Location & Atmosphere
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The Sizzler's tucked away in a rougher part of Rhy’Din, where the crooked streets twist and coil like serpents, leadin' you deeper into the shadows of the city. It's down where the lampposts flicker like they ain't sure they wanna stay on, and the distant howl of somethin’ wild reminds you that this part of town don’t follow the rules. Ain't fancy, but honey, it don’t need to be. It's rugged, gritty, and raw—just like the woman who owns it.· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
The moment you step inside, it’s like walkin’ into a battlefield where the wars are fought with whiskey bottles and broken hearts. The air's thick with the scent of cheap cigars, spilled liquor, and the ever-present musk of sweat and leather. The walls, draped in shadows, are made of worn brick—each one soakin’ up stories of the bruised and battered souls that walk through the door. A low hum of conversation hovers, broken only by the sudden crack of pool balls collidin’ or a glass slamming down a little too hard. There ain’t no jukebox here, darlin’. The music comes from the crackle of fists meetin' jaws or the flame ignitin' in someone's eyes right before they throw down.
Decor & Theme
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The Sizzler’s decor is a shrine to survival, a relic of battles fought both on and off the battlefield. Behind the bar, an old, tarnished sword hangs, once held by a Sacremian general who didn't walk away from a fight with Lydia. Dusty, shattered shields line the walls—reminders of her past victories, each one tellin' a story of conquest. But the crown jewels? Oh, those are replicas of her twin Desert Eagles, Pride and Extreme Prejudice, crossed like some dark, dangerous coat of arms. Those guns hang like a warning—ain’t no mercy here, and there damn sure ain’t no second chances.· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
The shelves beneath ‘em are lined with glass bottles, all neat as soldiers in formation. Each one holds a story, a liquid testament to the kind of hard lives that get drowned in places like this. The mirror behind the bar? Cracked, worn, and faded—it reflects more than just the folks sittin' at the counter. It's a window to the ghosts Lydia carries with her, shattered into a thousand pieces just like the lives she couldn’t save.
Staff & Clientele
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Ain't no full-time staff here. The only constant is Lydia herself, movin’ behind the bar with the grace of a predator, slingin’ drinks like she’s been doin' it since birth. She don’t hire no help because she don’t trust easily. Instead, she’s got a handful of regulars who know how to pour a drink and break up a fight when needed. On any given night, you might find a merc or two servin' up drinks if she ain’t feelin' like playin' hostess.· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
The patrons? This ain’t no place for the faint of heart, sweetheart. The Sizzler attracts the kind of crowd that’s seen too much and lived too hard. Mercenaries with blood still on their hands, mages with secrets darker than the void, and fighters nursin' wounds both seen and unseen. And they all know—ain't nobody quicker on the draw than Lydia, and if she pulls out Shank McShanker, well, you better hope you weren’t the one who pissed her off.
Rules & Reputation
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Lydia don’t have many rules, but the ones she does have are ironclad:· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
1. No cowards allowed. You wanna run from a fight? Do it outside. You got problems? Settle 'em here, but be ready to face the consequences.
2. No whinin’. If you're gonna cry about your lot in life, go find another bar. The Sizzler ain’t got time for sob stories—only survivors.
3. Respect the bar. You can bust up the stools, throw glasses, or fight in the corner, but you damn well better not touch the bottles or mess with the guns on the wall.
4. Keep your eyes up. Don’t stare at Lydia's or any other gal behind the bar's chest. You do, and you’ll be walkin' out with somethin’ a lot worse than a drink thrown in your face.
5. Unless you’re throwin’ a punch, keep your hands to yourself. No one’s here for unwanted advances, so if your hands ain’t on your drink, they better be nowhere near anyone else.
Reputation? Folks round here know The Sizzler as a last refuge for those who got nowhere else to go. If you make it out in one piece, Lydia might even let that smirk of hers curl into something that resembles a smile. But cross her? Ain't no one even gonna bother scrapin' what's left of you off the floor.
Drinks & Specials
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Ain’t no fancy drinks in The Sizzler. Lydia pours the strong stuff—whiskey, vodka, rum—and if it don’t burn on the way down, you ain’t drinkin’ right. But for those who know what to ask for, she’s got a secret menu, and those drinks? Well, they’ll either kill you or make you wish they had. Hellfire Whiskey? Now that’s somethin' special, infused with a touch of void magic that’ll burn you from the inside out and leave your soul screamin’. The taste? Like fire dancin' on your tongue, followed by an explosion in your gut.· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
The house special is The Helena, a dark, smoky drink that bites like regret and lingers like a lost love. It’s a drink that’ll make you remember what it means to feel somethin’, even if it’s just pain.
Fights & Entertainment
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Entertainment here don’t come from music or stage shows—it comes from fists, fury, and fire. The Sizzler ain’t the kind of place where you sit back and relax. Fights break out like clockwork, and Lydia don’t lift a finger to stop ‘em. She leans back, cigarette between her lips, eyes narrowin' as she watches the chaos unfold. If you survive the brawl, you might just earn yourself a drink on the house and a rare nod of respect from the lady herself.· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
Legacy of The Sizzler
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This place ain’t just a bar—it’s a fortress, a reminder of the fire that’s still burnin’ inside Lydia, and the scars that’ll never fade. The Sizzler is her battlefield, her sanctuary, and her home all rolled into one. Every drop of liquor that hits the bar, every broken glass, every fight that ends in blood—all of it is part of the legacy she’s buildin', one night at a time.· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
The Sizzler ain’t just a place to drink. It’s a testament to survival, to defiance, and to the fierce will of a woman who’s got fire in her veins and shadows in her soul.
