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
rat
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.
Hey! Hous yoo dewin, rat? heeelo you know iv'e been waiting you.  Waydin for me? Whys you waydin, rat? cough...cough. (ratnoise.ratnoise) Yoo gotta coff? Yoo been drinkin' too? (rub against your leg) come! to the coner Okay myz rat frrrrrrend. Whadth be ath the corner? woooo! good man , come to by the shade of the shipsin the key so we can find what you want or need? I just wanna sleepth off thith drink. ooooooo, bless, all i drink is cholera and rum so youve no smpathy from me? if you sleep now ill eat your face!  Go away, rat! I'm soberin' up. I'll beat you senseless! you think i'm one rat that can talk..... all the rats that go on allthe boats are mine. have noticed some times people go misseing on long voyages? boo hoo its the lonelyness, its its the endless sea "random" diease?