The moment the double glass doors swung open, a wave of cool air washed over the waiting customers. Many stopped short, blinking at the strange sensation of a sweet, floral fragrance mixing with the chilled wind. A kobold sniffed the air so hard his snout whistled.
"Smells like flowers and meat at the same time," he muttered, utterly confused.
"Better than horse dung in the summer," a lupen quipped, earning a low growl from the ramari farmer behind him.
The first floor was alive with light and color. At the far end, a small, elevated stage rose, and on it, a band of pale-skinned beings plucked strings and tapped drums. Their hair was glossy black, their bodies completely devoid of fur, and their eyes were an unsettling, milky white.
"What are they?" someone whispered, immediately dismissing the idea.
"They're too pale. Too stiff."
"They got no fur," a frogkin croaked, wide-eyed in astonishment. "Not even whiskers! Spirits preserve me…"
