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<blockquote data-quote="Trouvere" data-source="post: 5244920" data-attributes="member: 37250"><p>Gillin leads the party away from the docks along Pike Lane, which is nothing more than an alleyway between two warehouses. His nervousness subsides once back on the main thoroughfare that bears the name Merchant's Avenue only by courtesy.</p><p></p><p>"<strong>What a day, what a day,</strong>" he says. He heads on past the grandly named Carp Avenue, which is anything but, just another winding alleyway sloping down to the docks between tall warehouses. The lamps of Merchant's Avenue more or less light a wider central enclave, littered with fish-smelling trash.</p><p></p><p>Cod Street and Eel Row follow. Gillin takes Eel Row, which bends right and is open to the west so the north docks can be seen below a short drop. They're shabbier and less well lit than further south. Instead of stone, the quayside nearest the water is made of rough wooden beams supported on piles. The great wave would have drained away more quickly between these boards. Here, it has left behind some of the things it carried ashore - long fronds of seaweed, barnacle-encrusted fragments of wood, empty shells, confused crabs and other flotsam. The sea is calm again, and there's no one about.</p><p></p><p>Gillin cautiously descends a small flight of stone steps, bringing the party to the edge of the north docks near a scruffy building with a mossy clay tile roof. It lacks a name, but a ship's wheel hangs on the wall, with the designation 'BAR' written in Common, Dwarven and Gnome on the hub. Painted tankards are tied to the spokes. Hanging below is a simple wooden board that reads 'This Tavern Supports our Local City Watch - 20% discount for all Civil Servants.'</p><p></p><p>"<strong>Used to be a bad place, this,</strong>" Gillin comments. "<strong>Then a while back, there was a big fight, and a few of the worst crowd met their end. It's not so bad now. Still can't say I've ever seen a guard come here for a drink, though.</strong>"</p><p></p><p>In any case, it looks to be closed. Gillin looks disappointed.</p><p></p><p>Gillin leads you now into the real slums that have grown up beyond the dock district. Not far along a wider alley, he stops at a little shack - a wooden frame covered over with canvas sides, with a hatchway in front. There's a signboard here too, with a vaguely obscene drawing of a melted candle above affixed wooden lettering that reads 'Flopping Wi k' - the 'c' has fallen off at some point, leaving a mark.</p><p></p><p>"<strong>That's my local bottle store these days,</strong>" he says. "<strong>It's a sad comedown from the places I used to drink. Name's appropriate enough these days, though.</strong>"</p><p></p><p>He raps on the hatch, which is unbolted and pulled aside after a short delay. There's a dwarf inside, looking bleary.</p><p></p><p>"Eh? I was asleep!" he grumbles.</p><p></p><p>Gillin takes out the silver pieces that Midias gave him. "<strong>Not too sleepy to sell me more of your best rum?</strong>"</p><p></p><p>The dwarf brightens. Gillin hands him a flask and he fills it from a bottle, takes the coins, and closes the hatch without another word.</p><p></p><p>Gillin takes a long slug. "<strong>None of his rum's good, but it'll warm you after a soaking,</strong>" he says. He doesn't offer the flask around. "<strong>Almost there now.</strong>"</p><p></p><p>He drinks at intervals, and is weaving by the time the party at last escorts him home. Home turns out to be a single room building of slightly better quality than most in the area, at the near side of a cobbled courtyard that warrants a name continuing the fishy theme of the dock district, Crab Garth. He pulls a large wooden key from his pocket and fumbles with an equally crude lock.</p><p></p><p>"<strong>Wouldn't want anyone stealing away my Mildred,</strong>" he says. "<strong>But they wouldn't. They know what she means to me, even if she's worth more than this whole square, or near enough.</strong>"</p><p></p><p>"<strong>Well, lads, you've been kind to an old fellow, and maybe I didn't get to tell you my old stories, but I was a bit put off by the soaking we got. Maybe you'll come and visit again, and we can go to the Ship's Wheel, or I'll run into you on my excursion past Joe's, eh? I'd like that. I'd invite you in, but there's scarcely room for one, let alone six, 'specially as big as some of you are. G'night, boys.</strong>"</p><p></p><p>Spontaneously, he hugs Peladus awkwardly with his one free arm, enveloping him in the smell of rum, old breadcrumbs and wet wool.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Trouvere, post: 5244920, member: 37250"] Gillin leads the party away from the docks along Pike Lane, which is nothing more than an alleyway between two warehouses. His nervousness subsides once back on the main thoroughfare that bears the name Merchant's Avenue only by courtesy. "[B]What a day, what a day,[/B]" he says. He heads on past the grandly named Carp Avenue, which is anything but, just another winding alleyway sloping down to the docks between tall warehouses. The lamps of Merchant's Avenue more or less light a wider central enclave, littered with fish-smelling trash. Cod Street and Eel Row follow. Gillin takes Eel Row, which bends right and is open to the west so the north docks can be seen below a short drop. They're shabbier and less well lit than further south. Instead of stone, the quayside nearest the water is made of rough wooden beams supported on piles. The great wave would have drained away more quickly between these boards. Here, it has left behind some of the things it carried ashore - long fronds of seaweed, barnacle-encrusted fragments of wood, empty shells, confused crabs and other flotsam. The sea is calm again, and there's no one about. Gillin cautiously descends a small flight of stone steps, bringing the party to the edge of the north docks near a scruffy building with a mossy clay tile roof. It lacks a name, but a ship's wheel hangs on the wall, with the designation 'BAR' written in Common, Dwarven and Gnome on the hub. Painted tankards are tied to the spokes. Hanging below is a simple wooden board that reads 'This Tavern Supports our Local City Watch - 20% discount for all Civil Servants.' "[B]Used to be a bad place, this,[/B]" Gillin comments. "[B]Then a while back, there was a big fight, and a few of the worst crowd met their end. It's not so bad now. Still can't say I've ever seen a guard come here for a drink, though.[/B]" In any case, it looks to be closed. Gillin looks disappointed. Gillin leads you now into the real slums that have grown up beyond the dock district. Not far along a wider alley, he stops at a little shack - a wooden frame covered over with canvas sides, with a hatchway in front. There's a signboard here too, with a vaguely obscene drawing of a melted candle above affixed wooden lettering that reads 'Flopping Wi k' - the 'c' has fallen off at some point, leaving a mark. "[B]That's my local bottle store these days,[/B]" he says. "[B]It's a sad comedown from the places I used to drink. Name's appropriate enough these days, though.[/B]" He raps on the hatch, which is unbolted and pulled aside after a short delay. There's a dwarf inside, looking bleary. "Eh? I was asleep!" he grumbles. Gillin takes out the silver pieces that Midias gave him. "[B]Not too sleepy to sell me more of your best rum?[/B]" The dwarf brightens. Gillin hands him a flask and he fills it from a bottle, takes the coins, and closes the hatch without another word. Gillin takes a long slug. "[B]None of his rum's good, but it'll warm you after a soaking,[/B]" he says. He doesn't offer the flask around. "[B]Almost there now.[/B]" He drinks at intervals, and is weaving by the time the party at last escorts him home. Home turns out to be a single room building of slightly better quality than most in the area, at the near side of a cobbled courtyard that warrants a name continuing the fishy theme of the dock district, Crab Garth. He pulls a large wooden key from his pocket and fumbles with an equally crude lock. "[B]Wouldn't want anyone stealing away my Mildred,[/B]" he says. "[B]But they wouldn't. They know what she means to me, even if she's worth more than this whole square, or near enough.[/B]" "[B]Well, lads, you've been kind to an old fellow, and maybe I didn't get to tell you my old stories, but I was a bit put off by the soaking we got. Maybe you'll come and visit again, and we can go to the Ship's Wheel, or I'll run into you on my excursion past Joe's, eh? I'd like that. I'd invite you in, but there's scarcely room for one, let alone six, 'specially as big as some of you are. G'night, boys.[/B]" Spontaneously, he hugs Peladus awkwardly with his one free arm, enveloping him in the smell of rum, old breadcrumbs and wet wool. [/QUOTE]
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