It was a little passed 5pm on a summer day in the town of Brookside. It was a town the size of a small city that's surrounded by a forest almost all the way around except for the two river openings on both the east and west sides. This river runs straight through the middle of town, dividing it into two halves, North Brookside and South Brookside. The southern half of Brookside was buzzing about as always, and Drake had the only bar and inn on the south side, so there were almost always people to be found inside. A fair amount of people should be coming in soon though, Drake's bar usually starts getting really busy around 5:30 - 6pm when all the adults were starting to get out of work and all the kids were heading out after finishing whatever kids did during the summer. Drake had just kicked the day time regulars out of the building about an hour or so earlier because two randoms had gotten into a drunken fight and it started to get messy. Drake was fairly silent as he wiped the last bit of blood off the bar counter, his once white rag was now redder than a firetruck and his fingers were just as stained. Most people would probably be more than just upset with this, but considering that not only was Drake's bar the only bar and inn on the south half of town, not to mention he has a steady flow of 'special' customers and patrons, he deals with this almost regularly so its just another day for him.