The Red Sky Tavern

[Mystic]

Every night, down by the bay, drunks and vagabonds take up an old sea as they make their nightly run to their favorite watering hole. Comrades in drink, at least for the moment, they cry out their song:

Red sky at morning, sailors take warning. Red sky at night, sailors' delight!

For their alehouse of choice is the most prominent business in the Gut. ‘The Red Sky’, an infamous inn where all the seediest characters in Alyxandrya gathered for their nightly brew. Once, this tavern had been nothing more than a glorified shack, a rest stop for sailors onto more glamorous destinations, but under the iron fist of Silas Lescartes, it had expanded into a truly lucrative business.

The autumn brought the beginning of the chill to quaint Alyxandrya, but any who spent their time at the Red Sky would find themselves well shielded from the outside weather. For the Gut was kind to those it thrived off of, and even as they became further entangled in that web of lies, death, and seedy politics, they’d be comfortably seated at the Red Sky.

From the outside, it was easy to tell that this was no ordinary building in the Gut. A coat of red paint gave it a color the surrounding buildings lacked, and, firmly secured to a new hinge was a sign that declared the name of the building: The Red Sky. From within, a constant rhythmic noise could be heard, the beating of a pair of drums that went on through the night.

The only obvious entrance was a wooden door that leads into the tavern proper, a large room always swamped in an eerie half-light. While certain parts, like the bar, and the stage, were more than adequately visible, other parts, like the private walled tables and the door leading to the backrooms, were rather unusually dark. Any business there would be safe from prying eyes.

Prying ears, too, would have difficulty eavesdropping on any private conversations as loud, sometimes cacophonic, music issued from the stage that overlooked the tables. The musicians were specialists in Arakmatian music, it had a different flare to it, but the tavern goers were beginning to warm up to their style, plus it was loud enough that people could enjoy private words in peace.

The characters that frequented this place were mostly harmless drunks or out of work criminals, but the truly dark and unsavory could also be found here, for it was a den of iniquity the likes of which Alyxandrya had not seen before. They were the kings of the dark, the masters of the Gut, and this was their home. One always had to be careful when they talked to strangers here, one never knows what a stranger’s real occupation is, or how he might take offence to little slights.

Against the back wall, a crescent-shaped booth sat. The best seat in the house, and clearly occupied by the overseer of the Red Sky. If he sat alone, he might be hard to see in the dim light, but there could be no doubt he was present. Ankou, First Servant of House Lescartes, the recent prosperity of this place was due to his meddling.

A gaggle of uniformed women ran between the bar and the tables, dressed in scant outfits. The women were not so much waitresses as they were whores. They weren’t afraid of the hungry men who watched them. In fact, it was their job to hold their attention, as only lust could stifle the atmosphere of violence that followed the patrons.

Although indeed, it was a dangerous job, and more than one ‘waitress’ was found dead and raped, a dagger in her back. That was how this place worked, it was the personification of everything the Gut represented: Death, hopelessness, paid sex and profitable and deadly politics. Anyone could enter, and take any seat they wished, but if they survived the night was a different matter entirely.

This was the Red Sky, the den for the wicked and the mad. And those who entered were often both.

Kudos completely to Ankou for the write up

[Jacqueline Sommers]

The third brightening of Pontius, in the Season of Winter
Era I of the Celestine Mandate
Era XV Post Fractum
The Second Era of the Regency of Milo L'Evienne.

The woman walked past the gates into the city of Alyxandrya. She wandered around for two candlemarks, reorienting herself with the place she used to call home. Some buildings held an air of familiarity, while others were outright foreign. Her visa stated she was from here, and Jacques had no doubt in her mind whatever had happened to her, happened here. Her mindless wanderings ceased as she stumbled upon a red building, much the same color as the blood she'd shed earlier from her dagger. The tips of her right hand rubbed together, against the warmth of her own blood. A small smile crossed her ruby lips, the same color of her attire.

The feeling of a memory entered her mind, but nothing firm coalesced. The wooden door in the front of The Red Sky Tavern beckoned to her. She made a motion to enter, and after a few seconds of pause, she walked in, closing the door firmly shut after her.

At first glance, the tavern was full of local drunkards, and Jacques stared at them, revolted. They were all wasting their lives - and money - away on alcohol, a despicable past-time. Jacqueline wasn't entirely sure what she was looking for other than anything or anyone familiar. Nothing struck a bell. She sighed in disappointment, but ventured farther in. Woman, hardly dressed at all, walked amongst the men, looking for money. She raised her right eyebrow, hoping it had not been her profession in any lifetime. The scanning continued, until her eyes fell on a crescent-shaped booth against the back wall, a much more dimly-lit area of the tavern. Her instincts told her it felt right to walk over there, and with a quiet ease, she did.

[Ankou]

A child, no older than twelve or thirteen Ordinations, quickly got up from his seat in front of her and blocked her path with a crooked sportsman's bat, coated with dried blood. "You fething wench, are you daft? Do you know who sits there? Heh, nobody gets to walk up to the boss without him giving them clearance, especially no woman, understand?'' The child didn't seem phased by his own despicable corruption, and kept on.

"Why'da wanna see the boss, anyway? You got some business for him? You don't look like one of his whores, since your eyes are glazed over. (Here the man he was sitting with, a huge tattoo'd man wearing only pants, gave a laugh before returning to his drink.) And you certainly ain't smart enough to be one of his... oy! You can't be that dracon can you?!"

Here there was a concerned look to the huge man, who seemed to look for her shadow, lying on the ground behind her, the man gave a shake of his head to the young kid, who looked visibly relieved. "Listen, basically what I'm saying is you don't go up, savvy?"

[Jacqueline Sommers]

Jacqueline looked neither startled or afraid, quite surprisingly. Despite this, neither the child or the "huge tattoo'd man wearing only pants" looked familiar to her. This did not come as a shock because as she had walked throughout Port Alyxandrya Jacqueline had come to terms with the memory loss, whether it be temporary or permanent. What did remain of her was her personality, and it certainly wasn't kind.

A small laugh rung from her lips, at the child. "You honestly think you can speak to me that way? I don't care who sits anywhere either, for that matter. What, is your boss afraid of women?" Her red lips turned into a mischievous smile, eying the interesting child, clearly having learned no matters.

"Dracon?! Are you insane? You must be if you're asking me questions like that..." she ran her hand through her straight auburn hair, conceitedly, "what is your name, inconsiderate child?" Even though she had barely woken up from some sort of attack, the guards at the gate had helped her regain all her confidence. She placed a hand on her right hip, exasperated with dealing with the child, an immature slob, at best.

[Ankou]

"The boss ain't afraid of a thing." The kid said, smirking back. "He just doesn't have time to waste on every jane who gives lip to subordinates. It's polite to tell me your name first, but they call me Slugger, loud 'n proud member of the Morte Corpus! Hoo-rah!" The tattooed man grinned, showing his teeth.

"This here's Karl, he can break bitches like you in half. You come in here without showing respect to the Boss or His, heh, where do you think you're gonna end up?"

[Jacqueline Sommers]

The woman paused at mention of her name. She stuttered, almost afraid of saying it aloud for the first time, "J-J-Jacques," she said, and repeated more strongly, "Jacques." She smiled, very much interested in the irregularities of their speaking, as though they had never attended Schola, and was very likely the story of the poor child. Jacqueline took sympathy on them, but dared not show it. If she was to ask for a favor, she would have to force herself to be polite.

"You expect me to respect a man who can't even speak to the opposite sex?" She rolled her eyes casually, and continued, "You see this here cut?" Jacqueline lifted the bangs covering the left part of her forehead. "Someone did this to me. I don't know who or why, but I'm in search of the bastard that did it."

The woman made a look of disgust, as if tainted by a mark. She quickly hid the cut again, bitter that she had let herself be hurt by anyone. An eyebrow went up in mock expectation, though really doubting they would have any information.

[Roslynn Kaldres]

One eventful darkening during the first cycle of Immanis,
Spring of Era II of the Celestine Mandate, Era XIV PF

It had not been hard for the usually perfumed, polished Roslynn Kaldres to transform herself into the bedraggled, pitiable young woman who trudged now into the infamous Red Sky Tavern. After all, before the strange series of events that had brought her to Port Alyxandrya and a new life, she had often adopted a contrived persona while 'earning' her living, a role different from night to night or city to city. This would not be the first time she played a woman of beggarly means in a den of depravity such as this.

Nevertheless, it had been a while and the normally attractive brunette couldn't help but feel she might be a little rusty. She had heard enough stories of the Gut and the Red Sky in particular to inspire caution; it would be best not to draw too much attention to herself. Roslynn had no desire to be someone's potential punching bag or the warm, yielding sheath for their dagger. Yet she could not ignore her desire to brave the menacing streets of the Gut so that she might arrive here, at this forsaken tavern, where the Thane of yesteryear might have a chance to unearth information regarding the recently unseated slave ring -- those who were her former captors. Only the festering seed of righteous revenge would give her motive enough to risk her life again so soon.

So it was that the well-worn wooden door of the Red Sky swung open, admitting the incognito Roslynn, who wore a tattered, stained dress of cheap brown linen. Her hair was sooty and unwashed, the unkempt waves pulled back in the half-hearted bun of a working woman. The pale oval of her face appeared to be equally neglected -- smudges of grime served as low class substitutes for rouge. With the haggard, unraveling hem of her dress brushing against the dirt-caked floor as she walked, the guttersnipe pretender headed straight for an empty table without taking so much as a single glance at her surroundings, careful as she was to give the impression of familiarity with her environment.

Now what? the slovenly lass asked herself, permitting her gaze to follow one of the scantily clad "waitresses" for a moment. Well, -now- you get yourself a drink and go from there...

(( OOC: Dear Dan -- this post sucks ... royally. I apologize! ))

[Jacqueline Sommers]

Leaving no time for the small child to answer Jacqueline heaved a sad sigh as she came to the sudden realization she was going to get nowhere with these people. She was better off jumping right on the next ship she could instead of standing here making a fool of herself all while placing her life in danger.

The woman shrugged. With a sly smile she casually said, "No, nevermind. You have no information that is of any use to me. I'll be on my way now. Thanks... for nothing."

With a small wave to the two she been speaking with she walked comfortably out of The Red Sky Tavern. As her inkling had told her before, she need not have entered. Thinking mainly to herself she wondered where she would go now, having little to no memories of her past. A city came to mind, though she didn't know why. Imperia. Jacques nodded to herself, knowing this to be where she would travel next.

[Hazudar]

OOC You thought YOUR post sucked? HAHAHA check this stuff

She sat at the bar, and most eyes weren't on her. She may have been the talk of the town once, but now people were more interested in the new generation. Who knew which one of these half-naked wenches would win Season 2 of Alyxandrya's Next Top Model?! Only time would tell, only time...

mmm, yeah...

hehe...

Sorry, aite, so she sits down at a bar, next to a rabbi, a priest, and a horse, and the bartender looks at her and says: "What is this, a joke?!" There's a few chuckles and the man next to her stabs a dagger into the gruff oak in front of her. He was one of the ugliest men Roslynn had ever had the misfortune of laying her eyes on: Eyepatched, unshaven, breath like an ox, a glint of kemite features (^_^) somewhere about him, his rough, unshowered stench rolling off him in pleasant, almost airing waves.

"Konnichiwa," He said, smirking. "Not often we get ladies in here. Lots of girls, but not a lot of ladies. My name is Steve Illmeter, but everybody just calls me... Dan. You here to spend a night with Hazudar, then? Or on some other business?" He gave a grin and the stench of his breath spoiled some nearby milk.

[Lagart]

First Brightening of Ponutis, Era XIV Post Factum
Late Afternoon

"Well, I should be ready for that kind of port city taverns" - Lagart spoked to himself entering this noisy and unpleasant place for him. He went to the free table as soon as he noticed one.

[Fog]

The arakmatan noise filled the tavern as usual and people pushed their bodies in their seats to have a better view of the chaotic scene the Red Sky was offering. It might be still clear brightening in the outside but within the walls of the red building it was already down, a darkness only lit by the red flames at the corners and from the roof.

Lagart didn't have much time to ease his seat when a barely clothed woman-a human-stood at his table. She was by far not what we could call a beauty, with a square face and a flat nose, but she had a very well proportioned body and it was certainly the reason why she was still a 'waitress' at the tavern.

"Whacha want th'darknin' darling?", she spoke with a high-pitched voice, useful to be heard in the noisy tavern. She gave the stranger a wink while another large man at the bar was calling her and describing how he would 'please' her.

[Lagart]

"I would like something... fresh to drink," - said Lagart. He didn't feel comfortable here and of cause he didn't want to eat - "And be hurry, it seems everybody here want your attention. Like that biig guy there. He is really big, isn't he? I could have been mistaken, tell me." - Lagart smiled afterwards.

[Fog]

The girl nodded with a smile and gave a look at the large man. She was still sanding next to Lagart while she shouted something the stranger could not clearly distinguish-probably a proper tongue to the gut. She then turned again to the seated man.

"Large? His belly perhaps but don'be mistaken suga' size isn't enough", she gave him a wink and left waving her body in a way that seemed to strengthen the pleads of the surrounding men. But even if their throats were strong, none seemed to try to act in any way; the tavern was ruled with an iron fist and those who made trouble were often found in the dark alleys of the city.

Soon she reappeared with a fresh ale in her hand that she put on the table.

"Here you are. Take your pleasure with this best fresh ale you'll find around."

She paused a moment, looked around with trailing eyes, then added.

"I bet you find pleasure no'only in fresh ales."

Her voice was low enough he could only hear her. She bend a bit giving him a better view of her charms.

[Lagart]

"So... what is your name, pretty one?" - asked Lagart with a smile. He actually didn't care, but it's good to find some friends in that completely unknown town, so he decided to be nice with that funny girl. - "I bet you've got long beautiful charming name like mermaids have, haven't you?" - Then he made a big swig from ale cup. That was fresh, yes. Lagart smiled again - his mood was becoming more pleasant.

[Lyr Tlansson]

Early Ponutis, dawn, Winter of Era XV PF

The sun was just beginning to push itself off from the horizon when Lyr heard the sounds of drunken carousing in front of him and, following the sounds, pushed his way into the Red Sky Tavern. Only the most drunken of customers were still there, but this was the famous Gut of Port Alyxandrya, after all - all customers were drunk around here, and dawn was just an excuse to start the brightening off with another drink... if one needed an excuse for that at all.

Lyr was still soggy from swimming from the pirate ship to the docks, and his shoes made loud squeaks as he crossed the floor to the bar. Fishing inside his wet purse, he fingered the coins he had left: twenty crowns. Not good... it would hardly get him a few brightenings solid rest and food, much less back to Secyclion.

"Serale," he nodded to the barkeep, trying to appear as non-challant about his appearance as possible. Heck, this place probably saw much more suspicious characters than a young vagaran with soppy clothes and hair falling down in matted clots to his shoulders. Pirates weren't very good about hair care, either. "Got a whiskey?"