The Bastard’s Walk

[The Forgotten God]

Everything the Southern Sea is not, a tavern/brothel/den of sin for those of the poorer classes. Its location next to the Morass gives it a somewhat sinister repute but that seems more for advertising than any grounding in reality.

[Dr. Archimedes Steller]

The tiny old coot that was Dr. Archimedes made his way into the Bastard's Walk. He had a very sophisticated look to him, clad in his usual beige from head to toes and carrying a leather suitcase, making him stand out amid the less than savoy patrons of the Walk. From his cheery expression, however, the old fella seemed to be completely unaware of the potentially fatal stares he was getting.

"Well, hello there, old chap!" Archie asked the bartender in his high pitched voice, a broad smile on his lips. "I have scheduled a meeting in your most exquisite establishment with a fellow named Tehol.... Tehol Nookington that is. Fine chap, I think at least, seemed very polite in our letters. Last time I saw him he must have been smaller than a Thessalian Shepherd Cat... Well, of course, that is a pretty large breed of house cat, so there's not much sense in that saying. Suffices to say, he was very small, maybe four or five. I used to be great friends with his ma back in the day, you see, fine lady. When you are my age, you see, you get to meet a lot of interesting people, all kinds of them in fact, especially having been so long on the road."

"Anyhow, do you happen to have seen anyone with that name around?" He finally paused speaking, after his volley of words at the bartender. He scanned around trying to see if he could recognize the man that little Tehold had become.

[The Forgotten God]

The bartender has the look of a man who doesn’t get rewarded for knowing names. He burped into his hand and then scratched himself as he looked about. “Can’t say I know anyone goes by that moniker,” he offered. “My memory don’t work so good without the proper lubrication.” It was an inelegant demand for the old codger to spend some money.

[Dr. Archimedes Steller]

"Mental lubrication... Hmmm..." Archie scratched his chin for a bit, putting the old engine inside his head to work. After a couple moments he smiled and set his heavy suitcase on top of the bard with a thump. There were a bunch of clicks, clacks and brrrrrs as he undid its locks.

"Well, chap. I feel like this is your lucky day! I've got just what you need right here." The Doctor pulled a very small cloth bag from his suitcase. It had a very strong, floral smell. "As a man of science, of course, I often find myself with creative droughts. It's completely normal, there's no need to think of yourself lesser for it. The greatest of men have experienced such a... Need for mental lubrication."

"The Winter Jasmine tea, with just some hints oof lavender, is great for relaxing your cerebral network, reducing stress and helping ones memory." He sat the little bag in the counter before the bartender. "Two cups a day will do wonders, good chap!"

[The Forgotten God]

The bartender looked down at it. “Usually I’m the one serving drinks,” he grumbled. For some reason he had lost his earlier attitude. “Uh thanks I guess.” He took the tea. “That guy’s out back I think on account of his smelly beast.”

[Justine-Juliette de Vair]

The door opened. The door closed. Maybe no one was paying attention or maybe they didn’t care, but the number of people in the shitty little tavern increased by one.

And that was how Justine preferred it. Her clothes fit her well, but had been much mended. They were dark and nondescript and her thigh-length cape almost concealed the thin sword on her hip. Her face was fair enough, but not in a memorable way, and her skin was covered in freckles in spite of her dark hair.

She made her way to the bar, snagging a cup of wine from the elbow of a very distracted patron who seemed to have shifted his focus to the bare-breasted whore on his knee. She settled in with her drink at the bar and sipped it, noting the strange old man who looked a bit posh and unafraid of eyes on him to blend with the rest of the clientele. Curious, she sidled closer. The wine in her cup was not great, but she had had worse, she decided as she finished it and abandoned it on the bar. Close enough now, she claimed a seat near him and nodded a welcome. Her curiousity was piqued further by talk of a “smelly beast.”

[Damien Chevalier]

The lithe form of Damien Chevalier, the greatest thief in the world, entered the den of sin and instantly felt at home. He took in a deep breath, and said in a stage whisper, "It is good to be home again." He looked around the place and walked to the Barkeep. He pulled a pouch fat with coin and tossed the entire bag to the man behind the bar. He spoke to the bartender loudly and clearly so it would carry, "Comte-in-Exile Damien Chevalier has decided to grace your establishment with his eminent presence. And no one who is my friend pays for a drink this evening." He turned and held his hands out to include the entire bar. "And everyone is my friend, until proven otherwise." He smiled out at all the other patrons like a priest welcoming his congregation home. Then he calls over his shoulder to the barman, "A bottle of your finest for myself." He had a confident smile as he leaned back against the bar.

[Silvia Raizer]

Silvia strode into the bar. She wore a blue satin shirt that had seen better days, a wide leather belt, and breeches that clung to her legs. She wore her favourite fawn-coloured hat, with a blue feather sticking out jauntily and carried her lute slung across her back.  She looked with interest at the garrulous comte then bestowed a devastating smile upon him.  

"I never turn down a free drink, and I have a thirst today."

[The Forgotten God]

The bartender seemed a bit surprised to see the bag of coins and the sudden arrival of people who didn’t seem at all interested in the normal services of a brothel but he motioned to the servers and then sent a boy back to get a bottle of plum wine. “Your lordship,” he said with a suddenly quiet voice, “hail to the king.”

A man bumped into Justine and apologized profusely as the crowded establishment filled up. Damien could see card sharps and musicians and all the normal insanity that kept him in high spirits while Silvia notes a strange skeleton hanging over the main entrance. It doesn’t look human, but it also doesn’t look not human either somehow.

[Damien Chevalier]

Damien saluted the barkeep like he was referring to himself, "Thank you my boy." He then turned around and faced the bard. The Comte weighed and measured her in a single glance. Pretty flower but of a wild variety he decided. "Well I never turn down a new friend." He then bowed deeply to her, with the glass in his hand not losing a single drop. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Comte-in-Exile Damien Chevalier. And I am exactly where I want to be, right now. How about yourself?" He took a sip of the wine and laughed, "Wonderful. It has sweet bonnet, and you can tell the plums come from Awillindon stock. They have the finest plums in Awillindon, it is because their bees are so unusually large." He smiled knowing at her and his finger played with the dark hair below his lip.

[Silvia Raizer]

"Silvia Raizer, from Arden Hall, near Vittoria. Some call me the Skylark of Bastion." She flipped her hair behind her shoulder as she spoke and wondered whether to mention the skeleton.

"I find that good wine is a fine accompaniment to good conversation. I regret that I have never visited Awillindon. Perhaps you could tell me what they have besides plums and bees, my lord."

[Ceutinde]

A vision glid down the stairs into the bar. Fully six and a half feet tall, impossibly slender, with dark curled hair down to the small of her back, the inhuman beauty of Ceutinde the Widow had a knack for turning heads, even in a simple linen blouse and long skirt. She and her healers made regular visits to the city's other brothels (not that the House of Peace and Respite for Our Heroes was a brothel, but outside observers did tend to lump them into one pot) to check up on the workers. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, Ceutinde appraised the crowd and drummed her fingers on the banister. She chose to stay for a drink. It had been a long day, and a bit of slumming helped to keep one grounded.

She approached the bar and waited in silence.

[Dr. Archimedes Steller]

"Thank you, good sir!" Archie nodded to the barkeep. He was about to turn leave the counter in favor of the not-as-glamurous back of the establishment, when a young woman took a sit near him and nodded.

"Good afternoon, ma'am!" He said, politely tipping his loyal pith helmet. "You are too kind to acknowledge an old man like me with this most polite of greetings. In fact, you were the only Patron in here to provide Old Archie such courtesy."

"Here..." He fumbled inside his suitcase, once again pulling out a small permfumed bag. "A rose for a rose, as they say... Well, of course, you might have noticed this is not a rose proper. It's Royal Rose tea, much more useful than an actual rose, if you ask me. I picked and prepared that batch myself. It's quite an easy recipe, if you ask me. But here I am, rambling again... I must apologise, a friend awaits me in the back and thus I must leave your company. Farewell, fair lady!"

As he more often than not did, Archimedes had just had a whole conversation without his interlocutor ever uttering a single word. To him, that seemed completely normal.

[Tehol Nookington]

A small and apparently smelly beast, though it washed more then it's master and even smelled faintly of vanilla. Jumped up onto the bar and threw down some coins for another ale, presumably for it's missing master. After acquiring a mug to much chattering and and mumbling, it hugs the mug and starts waddling it out the door towards the back.

[Justine-Juliette de Vair]

Justine narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the man who had bumped her and quickly checked her pockets and things to make sure he wasn’t a pickpocket. Places like these...one could never be to careful.

She paused in checking her pockets to accept the old man’s strange gift. Tea? “Thank you, sir,” she said. But he was gone before she could continue. Hmph. People were always busy in the cities. That’s how she and her comrade could drift about so well. No one paid attention to anything unless it was screaming in front of their face. She spared a thought for her sister with a shudder and checked the room again for a face that looked like hers. Nothing. She was safe, for now.

And it would be the Comte’s free drink that would take her mind from it. “Please, night I have a glass? She asked the bartender sweetly, nodding toward the merry man and his pile of coin. Her attention was captured by the strange small beast as it hopped up onto the bar and swiftly fled. She barely bat an eyelash. She was used to stranger.