This is by far the most rawdy inn in town: situated on the pillory square, it draws the finest lot of rabble one could ever imagine: scarred thugs full of ale, toothless old skeletons eyeballing the serving wenches, hired assassins in hooded cloaks whispering in the back, whores, beggars, jugglers, ill-tempered dwarves, the crimp, off-duty guards waiting to be bribed (and arrest you tomorrow), smugglers exchanging contracts, noblemen showing of their slaves, tourists at the wrong place at the wrong time, and many more. The crowd mills out into the street, or onto one of the many balconies of the stretch-neck tavern overlooking the pillory.
The town guards delight in bringing up new pillory victims at exactly the right time, around mid-afternoon, when the crowd is amazingly drunk and ill-tempered from lost bets and lost fights. Needles to say what happens next.
Whether you need information, ale, women, or stolen goods, the stretch-neck tavern has it all. Especially when all of it is yours. Watch out for backstabbers here.