A Night in the Bar [Abandoned]

[Edgewind]

The last light had faded from the sky in the port sector of Badon. The streets weren’t necessarily safe in the day, but at night you especially needed to mind your path in this area. To fall afoul of a blade would as like attract an opportunist to your coin purse here. In a way, the cutthroats, pirates, and various lowlifes were honest. Their motives were clearly discerned by their actions whereas others would shroud their intent with honeyed words and restraint. This brutal honesty made for a profound predictability and simplicity that Shane Edgewind appreciated. He could eke out his meager, carefree existence with little worries here. Those not well acclimated to the intricacies of what passed as unspoken rules on the streets mostly avoided them at night, as well they should. However even this chaos had a rhyme and reason to those attuned to it.

It was a poetic irony, that a career liar such as himself would feel so at home amongst such raw truth, where men acted more on base instinct than any expectation of society. It was fresh. Free from the intrigues of politics, espionage, and war – at least for the greater part. Those who sought such would still find it readily enough, though often it brought with it a swift end. The easiest way to avoid that was simple. You minded your own business and your business only. That was the only business Shane cared for tonight. His own. That business – spending his recent earnings on watered-down ale in the Broken Anchor and taking in gossip. It was a low end tavern – even for its location in the rundown slums near the shadier docks that played host to questionable merchants and blood-thirstier pirates. It wasn’t uncommon for Shane to grace such establishments with his presence and, sure, he could fit in well enough to be at home here but his reasons weren’t casual drinking tonight. He’d certainly not waste his time on such swill had that been the case. No, he needed an ear to the ground. Work had been drying up a bit lately, and he needed to supplement his income through alternate means.

The Broken Anchor was always packed at night, and tonight was no different. Raucous bands of pirates, sailors, and miscreants filled the ramshackle building to overflowing with middle-aged barmaids busily shuttling pitchers of various brews from table to table. None of them were anything to look at, but then again no woman of even questionable beauty would dare work such an establishment. The rogue had no interest in female companionship this eve. His focus lied in the latest pirate activities and arrivals in port. Oftentimes those who smuggled by sea needed another to smuggle by land. This was well within his abilities. The shiftless thugs of pirates that continuously funneled in and out of the doors throughout the night were frequently boastful of the exploits of their crew. That, of course, was the nature of such expressions as ‘Loose lips sink ships’ and a little alcohol or perhaps a great deal of it would nearly always validate the nature of that phrase.

For the greater part of the evening Shane, posing as Edward Meckanham as per the usual, listened and observed discreetly, avoiding drawing any attention to himself. What began with him merely nursing an ale progressed to downing several of them in succession as the first few hours provided no information beneficial to him. As his inebriation increased, so decreased his patience equally. As that patience dwindled closer to its end, an event unfolded that caught his attention. Someone, clearly out of place, entered the building. Well, this might be interesting. Perhaps this trip wouldn’t be a complete waste after all. As he observed, his fingers lightly drummed against the rough-hewn table in the dimly-lit far corner where he inconspicuously sat alone.

[Marina]

One day Marina was contacted by an old acquaintance who came to her to asking for a rather straightforward favor. She was to deliver a letter to a man she'd never heard before somewhere in Badon. For the sake of brevity she was merely given a name, place and the advise to try a clever disguise. Normally Marina would have refused but she was short on funds and the pay off was tempting enough.

She arrived at Badon three days later, having gotten rugged clothes and a worn out but durable enough cloak that could cover most of her figure. Finding a suitable stable to leave her mount was the next step in her plan and arguably the reason why she was running so late. Eventually she found an stable with just enough room for her white horse which she left at the care of the quartermaster that demanded to be paid before she left.

in order to blend in with the unsavory crowd she had to crawl on the dirty mud and even went as far as smearing ink all over her face to get herself a fake beard. Her hair too she tangled entirely on purpose to make it look as ugly as possible. Her friend had warned her of the kind of ruffians that frequented the Broken Anchor so she needed to make herself look as detestable as possible to avoid being spotted.

" The crap I have to put up with for a month worth of salary ... " Obviously, she didn't relish the idea of impersonating a homeless hag for one night, however she sort of owed this person a big favor and it wasn't like she was going home empty handed. She covered her head with the hood of the cloak and stumbled her way inside the run down, packed tavern. Approached the counter and paid for the cheapest drink of the house with a fake, hoarse sounding voice.

Th blond Bernese was so filthy she was able to slip by mostly unnoticed, then she saw a man sitting all alone that rather resembled the person she had heard about. It was too much of a coincidence so she approached, once again imitating an stumbling drunk as she swung the cup of bad quality ale, spilling some along the way. She sat next to the man and looked up at him with a gaze that made it painfuly obvious she was self aware of the ridicolous charade she was putting on display.

[Edgewind]

The spectacle continued to unfold before him as the strange person made a fool of himself at the counter. It was amusing to see someone trying so hard to slip into a crowd like this. His eyes followed as the man stumbled through the tavern. One misstep would leave the over-actor careening into one of the ‘patrons’ and the entire broken Anchor would erupt in a brawl that would cue his own exit. To Shane’s entertainment, the wobbly newcomer had avoided such calamity long enough to acquire what goat-piss passed as alcohol in this tavern. It was then that Shane realized he’d made a mistake. He had affixed his gaze to the stranger long enough to be noticed and locked eyes with him. Nearly instantly, a pulse of apprehensive anxiety shot through the rogue, putting him on alert. Under his breath, he began to mutter to himself repeatedly, “Please don’t come this way.. please don’t come this way..”

If Shane had been working with a partner here, this would be the kind of signal he would expect to be used to call him off or warn him wordlessly to make a quick exit. However, he was in this alone. There was no partner waiting in the wings running overwatch. Just this filthy fool of a stranger stumbling and staggering towards him. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Shane had picked this corner for a reason. One simply didn’t approach a stranger in the Broken Anchor from pure chance and he didn’t recognize the person at all. Silently sliding a small iron blade from a hidden sheath, he kept the weapon concealed as the person took a seat.

Up close, this person seemed even more absurd than the act he’d witnessed up to this point. There was no longer any possibility of doubt that something was very wrong here – among other things, the stranger lacked the stench that should have accompanied someone in such a state.. and was that.. perfume he faintly smelled in its place? This drew his attention to other details he should have picked up on sooner. The feminine eyes that peered at him from that hood, this was a woman! Why, though? That was the question of the hour. The animated expression on Shane's face likely gave away the sense of surprise he attempted to suppress, but he didn’t speak any further. He wanted answers, and he wanted them now. A dismal sigh escaped his lips as he tried to process this startling development into some form of explanation of his own. There was no explanation, nothing acceptable anyway. Without warning, the man who went by Edward Meckanham stood and disappeared into the crowd. A moment later, a flash of his figure could briefly be seen exiting the Broken Anchor

[Abandoned]