During the day, the quay is bustling with typical activity of a port: burly longshoremen carry crates and roll barrels away from ships for storage and sailors who still have their sea-legs saunter past on their way to drink and more adventures. By night, the quay is teeming with unsavory characters: men who are hardly men any more after losing their way through drink and gambling hunker amongst coils of rope stiffened by the salt water while rats scramble from box to box gnawing their way into the goods contained inside.
Quay, Port
sailor
drunkard
I am the local drunkard. I spend my time consuming alcohol at the local pub. I am often seen stumbling through the streets of the village in a drunken haze.
Tis a fiiiine fair day... to drink the day awaaaay!  Ay 'tis a fine day but ye should watch yerself drunk. I've had ta club me share of drunkards tryna git at me gold. Ach that's no way to treat a matey...matey *hic*  I'll not be needing yer shiny sparkles t'day! Will gud, cuz ye won't be gittin 'em either. Say matey, have ye seen the Crescent Wench in the Quay this eve? The Scented Wrench?  Aye, I see her last night... har, and this morn', too! Harumph, theys musta scooted outta here before I cud git me hands on 'em. Scoot... shoot... loot... could do with a pile o'loot... Heeey there, matey, good ta see ya!  Arg, yer the best mate a fella ev'r clapped eyes on. Git yer filthy mits off me ye crazy ole loon. I'll git ye a saltwater bath quicker than ya can spit! Nooo don't hurt a fella, I t'aint done no harm ta nobody!  I just... I just love ya so much.  Yer sucha good friend ta me. Will I's no friend of yers matey, that's the spirits talkin'. I just... I be so lonely.  Even ma girl left me fer some stuck up lordling.   Well just look at ya! Git yerself cleaned up matey, opportunity abounds in the Quay or the sea fer those who seek it out.