In light of the recent killings, the regulars at Tigan's Rest are warier, and rarely leave the comparative safety of the tavern without company. Business is discussed in softer tones, and furtive glances are met with kind, as the regulars no longer feel safe. Perhaps with good reason, as another two pimps and an opium dealer were found sharing the same alleyway, all bludgeoned to death. Whispered tones share larger than life stories of vengeful angels, demons who relish in the deaths of honest men, a former streetwalker turned witch, a monstrous man in full iron armor, wererats who want to take over the corners themselves, a new criminal enterprise moving in, the likes of which nobody has ever seen before, a special group of assassins sanctioned by the burgermeister, a team of crusaders from the Morninglords, the Ezrites, or maybe some ladul outlander religion, and even Strahd himself cleaning up the streets, all of whom commit vengeful violence against the criminals of the slums. Some of the more active regulars of Tigan's Rest speak of striking back, in hushed tones, far from the other patrons.
