An Adventurer's Tale/The Undead Part 5

Roleplay from Baldhart (6 hours, 37 minutes ago)
Message sent to all adventurers in the vicinity of Athol Margos (11 recipients)
The roaring din of the city was deafening, a cacophony of sounds and voices that caused Baldhart to wince, thousands of peasants milling about in the crowded street, haggling and arguing with the street vendors manning the hundreds of sprawling wooden stalls lining the street.

"I hate cities," he said as they pushed their way through the crowd, "Too many people, too much noise, too much hassle." A woman, slender and young and firm, brushed up against his body. He felt a tug at his belt, caught her wrist as she passed, pulled her close and plucked his leather purse from her fingers. She looked at him, wide eyed, shocked, and then broke into a quick walk, melting into the crowd. "Bitch," he murmured, sliding the leather thongs back between his belt and knotting them. "Townslands're 'bout as big as I like."

"You're a simple man," Danost said, moving his eyes slowly over the market's stalls, his mind working, cataloging which stand sold what, listing the items they needed and what would simply be nice to have.

"And it's how I damned well like it, too! Simple life is the best life. To hell with-" he waved his hand around, "-all this nonsense."

Danost stopped suddenly at a stall manned by a tall, thin merchant with a broad and inviting grin on his face, his wares laid out before him on a red-dyed blanket. Trinkets, mainly. Little carved wooden statues, cheap bolts of material. Nothing really of any use or value.

"I disagree with you, Baldhart. You can't find trash of this quality in a Townsland."

The Merchant puffed up suddenly, his smile turning into an angry sneer. Danost simply looked at him, smiled, nodded, and walked off with Baldhart en towe.

Soon the crowd began to thin, the stalls grew cheaper and less frequent. Stopping momentarily at a stall, Danost talked quietly with the merchant, and then motioned Baldhart to follow down a steep sideroad.

"Where're we going?"

"To the wharf. Cheapest inns, food, and women in the whole city. Fishermen coming in all the time to sell their catch, little money, willing to spend it all on some minor comforts."

Baldhart (Freeman)

Roleplay from Danost
Message sent to all adventurers in the vicinity of Athol Margos (12 recipients)
Danost led Baldhart down the side alley. As they passed between various seedy looking buildings, things began to get more rundown. Trash started to accumulate in the corners. Finally they started to smell the salt air of the ocean. A few minutes later they emerged from the back alleys into the rough and tumble section of the the city known as the Docks.

Every city with a waterfront had a district known to all as "the docks". This was the area of the city where the sailors spent the coin they earned on their long sea voyages. They spent it in rough and tumble bars on cheap ale and cheaper whores. There were drunken brawls almost every hour, in bars that were little more than a crude counter in the basement of a warehouse. Rare was the morning that didn't reveal at least one body floating in the harbour with a slit throat.

The two men traveled through the milling throng of sailors looking for a drink and a woman, and hawkers selling things to fulfill every imaginable vice, including some you were better off not imagining at all. Shortly, and without incident, they arrived at their destination.

There was nothing immediately distinguishable about the building in front of them. Nothing that set it off from any other building on the street. Baldhart looked puzzled.

"Why are we stopping here?"

Danost pointed to the lantern hanging on one corner of the building. "See that lantern, the one with the blue-tinged shutter? That last shopkeeper told me that the place we wanted was marked by a blue lantern. Apparently this place doesn't really have a name. Everyone just calls it the Blue Light. The shopkeeper said the entrance was about halfway down the side of the building, so let's go look."

As the walked down the street toward the only door on this side of the building, Danost's foot caught on something laying in the street. It clinked across the paving stones, glinting in the light from the lantern. Danost bent down and picked it up. It was a small mirror, covered in filth from the streets, but otherwise in good condition.

Danost wiped it off on the leg of his pants, then held it up. Angling it to catch the light of the lantern, he looked at himself in the mirror. The long journey and lack of bathing facilities had taken their toll. His face was dirty and his hair a mess. He reached up and ran his hand through his hair, trying to undo the worst of the tangles.

Baldhart reached over and punched Danost in the shoulder. "Come on pretty-boy. The ladies here won't care what you look like. Now quit admiring yourself and let's get moving. I'm tired, hungry, and thirsty. I need a good drink, a good meal, and a good woman."

Danost chuckled and dropped the mirror into a tunic pocket. Maybe he could trade it to one of the ladies for a bit of extra attention. When they reached the door Danost knocked. The door was almost immediately opened by a large man with a rather simple looking expression on his face. "Yeah? Whadda you want?"

Danost smiled up at the very tall man. "Hello, good sir. My companion and I are here for a drink, and a bit of company."

The big bruiser scowled at the unfamiliar men. "The rules are easy: You don't cause no trouble, you don't get no trouble. Be nice to the ladies, and don't order nothin' you can't pay for, or I'll make you pay. Unnerstand?"

Danost nodded amiably. "Completely."

The bruiser scowled, then stood aside and opened the surprisingly thick and sturdy door all the way. The sounds of minstrels, laughter, and loud conversation drifted out the door. With wide grins plastered on their faces, the two stepped through the door and into the Blue Lantern. Within a few steps they had already attracted the welcome attentions of some of the brothels more delightful attractions.

Danost (Freeman)