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
man
I am an old man who lives in the forest. I chop down trees and turn them in to lumber. I am often seen drinking with other men to ease my muscles.
Aye mate! How's the ale here? Best in the city! Care to join me? Of course! Oi! You got any food on ya? I've been trying to find my dinner in this place, but everyone's being stingy tonight! Well, after a long day in the forest, I could use a meal myself. Does this tavern serve anything worth while? I'm not sure I'd try eating any food from this kitchen... Not that I could afford it, if I tried. Well, Ale it is then. Don't worry, next round is on me! Aye... any chance you know where a man might find a job around here? I heard the King beheaded the cobbler this morning. You got any skill in footwear? Would that skill land me headless? Only if ya aint no good at it! Fair, fair... Tell me, what do you do to earn your gold?