The port tavern is the shadiest of all the shady bars in the city. Every night, on its grimy stools at the wooden bar, you can find some of the slimiest sailors in the world. The walls are of peeling blue paint and are always dripping with condensation. Women of ill-repute line one wall, old men on the verge of passing out line another. The floor is littered with trash, barnacles, and bodily fluids. Tending the bar is a small, round man with a bushy mustache.
Port Tavern, Port
person
old men
I am an old man from nowhere. I have watched the world rip itself apart over my years. I love talking about the good old days with my men.
Ahh, this port reminds me of when I was a sailor. Was you boat as grimy and slimy as this one? Not quite, but it is quite hard to maintain a swabbed deck when you're out at sea. That is very true sir. Where do you live now? if not on a boat. See I am homeless and need to find a place to rest my head. I live about a quarter mile down into the nearest village, myself. Do you think that round man over there would mind if I take a rest on this littered and trashed floor? I don't think so, go right ahead. I am hoping that I will get some disease from all of the bodily fluid that are on the floor to put me out of my misery. See I am tired of looking for scraps to feed myself to survive. Well why would you want to do that? I have nothing to live for. I was disowned by my own family sir. Tell me your story before you decide to end it all. I refused to let my wife sleep around with other men, then come back home each night. So she kicked my out the house and got me fired from my job.