The Blue Triangle
131 West Thorn Road

Beneath the flickering neon sign, behind the crumbling and grimy brick façade and the nearly blackened windows, the Blue Triangle is pretty much exactly what it seems: a cramped, seedy hole-in-the-wall with a bar filled with rotgut liquor, bathrooms that have long since been surrendered to new and rapidly evolving species of mold, and a back room with a stained floor and walls that have undoubtedly seen more than their share of shady dealings. The Triangle is the bottom of the barrel, and most of those who choose to scrape it do so because they have nowhere else to go. Some of the patrons couldn't show their faces in reputable bars even if they had the cash to spend. Many of the patrons aren't even human.

The Blue Triangle is unabashedly a demon bar, and just about anyone who comes in is supernatural in origin, already aware of the occult world or simply too drunk and jaded to care. For all of that, the Triangle is fairly neutral territory. Whether human or demon, the patrons come in here to drink and conduct business, not to feed, not to kill. It doesn't matter if the blood of the junkie in the corner is the sweetest thing you've ever smelled, it doesn't matter if your whole clan has sworn a blood oath to torture and murder the guy at the bar. The Triangle is where opposing factions come to meet in peace, where drugs and artifacts are bought and sold without fear of violence. That's not to say that there isn't danger here -- once you've stepped out the door, you're fair game to anyone who wants you enough to wait or follow you out. But the Triangle itself is, in its way, sacred.

This policy of nonviolence is enforced by the bartender, a squat, greasy, balding toadlike man known universally as Louie. No one knows his last name, no one calls him Lou or Louis. Outwardly, he seems perfectly human -- no one, no matter how keen their perception, has been able to smell anything demonic about him, nor does he appear to be a warlock or psychic of any kind. And yet a palpable aura of respect and perhaps even fear surrounds him. The older patrons know not to get on his bad side, and the younger patrons learn quickly. It may be that he has friends in high places, ties to organized crime or various demon clans. Whatever the source of his power and influence, thus far, no one in recent memory has been particularly inclined to test his patience, and in the end, that's probably for the best.