Utterly Mad

Duncan

You pass by some drunken lout pissing himself right next to the entrance, making sure you don't disturb the clearly "sober" man. You swing the bar doors open and are greeted by the sights and sounds of a dusty old bar that has clearly never seen any better days. The barman is working a full counter of saddened cowboys drinking their troubles away, the upstairs is filled with lonely guys looking for an eventful night, and finally the pianist in the far corner is slamming away on those keys like this were his last day to live.

Flynn

It started to cool down in town, you could see people beginning to light their oil lanterns outside their homes and stores. Clanking could be heard even from two blocks away, dark smoke poured out of the open barn doors like an evil gas pouring out of The Gates of Hell. You take one last breath of clean air and head inside. You see a large butch man hammering away at a long jagged stretch of glowing hot metal, chunks of burned mineral flying off in every direction. He looks up and spots you, without saying a word he points the hammer to two axles laying on the table, makes the 'OK' sign and then gestures for you to skedaddle after you grab the supplies.