Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-3293219-20160421214950/@comment-5543592-20160425234437

Apollo42 wrote: "Are you doubting me, Scire?" Hawke retorted, with a determined grin.

Diana laughed, laying a hand on Crimson's arm. "I'm sorry, Scarlet." She teased. "More doubting your ability to cook an edible meal."

"Let's just get inside the tavern." He grumbled. "There are actual ugly people in there.  You two with your clean clothes and shapey bodies are gunna stick out sorer than a bad shoe in my shoe closest.  And my shoe style is implacable." He paused, as if considering if 'implacable was the right word, then nodded to himself. With that, he escorted them into the inn.

The inside was even scummier than the outside. The place was obviously popular as holes went, Crimson knew his stuff, and was packed full of characters that looked like they didn't have an honest bone in their body. Off duty hores, cutpurses, men with scarred faces and eye patches, groups of people huddled around tables in dark clothing. There even was a kid, sitting on a stool at a table with a group of whores, and he looked like the meanest fucking kid you'd ever seen. There was a certain layer of grim on everyone, as if they hadn't washed their clothes or themselves in days, perhaps weeks. The lighting was dim, there were suspicious speckles of brown on the rotten wood floor, and the barkeep, someone who would most likely be friendly, looked more like the kind of guy you would expect to corner you in the alley and beat your Spetims out of you.

A young women in a scandalous dress stood on a table, singing an upbeat, jumpy song that was even more scandalous than her dress, and that was pushing it.

"Doth propriety disappear In the courts and the ports of the Bay.

Drinking new beer,

Everybody feels queer,

And the Earls and the churls Go astray.

The bee and the bird

Don't have to tell us a word.

Our bodies for naughties,

Are prime.

If you haven't heard,

You can let yourself be lured

For the youth, for things uncouth,

It is time.

Oh, it's lovely to sit in a field, harvested into rows...

It's lovelier still to do the same not wearing any clothes!"

The tavern became an uproar of laughing at that last line, although they'd undoubtedly heard this same song sung a dozen times in the last week. The coversation was a loud hum, and no one seemed to notice the three new comers just yet.

Crimson inhaled deeply, as if drinking in a good scent. That was a direct contradiction to how it actually smelled. "Quaint, ain't it?"