Mr. Willoughby's calm voice has an immediate effect; weapons, half-drawn, are sheathed, and the handful of adventurers sitting around the tavern return to their drinks now that it is clear that they don't need to defend the place from a marauding (if somewhat small) dragon.
The interior of the building is rather better maintained than the two mermaids' was; all of the furniture is serviceable and reasonably arranged.
In the shadows of the back right corner, carefully watching the entryway, is a man in a dark green hooded cloak of moderately fine weave.
The next table to the left is surrounded by a group of human soldiers wearing the colors of the local lord. They seem to have come here to relax, though, and their presence is only a minor stress on the joviality of the atmosphere.
Immediately to the left of the doorway is an odd pair; a human sorceress (wearing traditional adventuring sorceress garb, namely very little) chats with a hulking lizardman (or possibly lizardwoman, it's hard to tell); both are wearing pendants with the holy symbol of Artemis: a stylized claw. As you pass them, you hear a small snippet of their conversation - something about zombies.
By the far left wall, a dusty knight talks earnestly with his squire; his arms (a snake coiled into a knot) mark him as a small-time independant, probably on his way to a tournament somewhere in hopes of winning fame and fortune.
The innkeeper, a swarthy man with a long twirly mustache, bustles up.
"Welcome to the Nameless Inn; lodging will be six silver." He pauses apologetically, "The only private room left is the luxury suite, I'm afraid."