South Dunes Tavern and Inn

[Anne]

Deep inside the Southern Housing District of Arakmat stood the newly rebuilt and refurbished South Dunes Tavern and Inn. It was more of a sprawling series of buildings, each of them used for a different purpose and each of them contributing to the overall usefulness of the structure. The main building, and the largest, was where the main bar was located. It was longer then it was deep and had many tables and chairs scattered around and even though it was an airy building it was almost homelike. At one end stood a stage where on many nights a band could be seen and heard playing various styles of music. The main bar itself ran for nearly the entire length of the building and was serviced by a few bartenders, the head bartender going by the name of Mikah. Several waiters and waitresses were always moving around including the cheetari girl, Tikel, and they were all ready to take orders when needed.

The building directly behind the main building held the kitchen and the office of the owner, Anastasia. Anastasia was a tallish human woman, obviously not Arakmatan in origin with her pale skin and black hair. She brooked no nonsense in her establishment but fully encouraged everyone to enjoy themselves. Rumour had it that she was also a great card player and teacher, which is where she gained enough money to buy the place from the original owner.
The next building was the bath house, and it was just to the right of the kitchens. It housed several large tubs that could be filled with hot or cold water and several smaller rooms where patrons could change and leave their possessions. Behind the bath house was the privy hut - and the less said about that the better.

To the left of the main building was a smaller structure that held a second bar. This one was much quieter then the main bar and in actuality specialised in the serving of coffee and various teas. It was more of an upscale socialising area and anyone who was drunk was not allowed in. The bouncer at the door saw to it that that rule was upheld. On the right of the main building, though slightly back from it, was the second largest building. This one was the sleeping quarters where paying customers could either rent a small room with two beds in it and a small cupboard or sleep in the common area on serviceable cots.

All the buildings were connected via covered walkways; The kitchen was only a few paces from the main building and the coffee room was not much more. The bath house and privy hut were connected to the sleeping quarters by a much longer walkway, heading around the back of the kitchens, though any patron could simply move through the main building to reach them.

Inside the main bar was a noticeboard above where Mikah customarily stood that listed the items available for purchase:


Quote:
Assorted Breads: 3gc
Camel Steaks: 4gc
Mutton Chops: 3gc
Beef Chops: 8gc
Stew of the Brightening: 2gc
Meat and Cheese Platter: 5gc

Ale: 2gc
Lager: 2gc
Cactus Wine: 3gc
Silrosian Wine: 5gc
Medonian Wine: 9gc
Naturan Wine: 10gc
Water: 4gc
Various Juices: 4gc

Standard Common Room: 2gc/night
Common Room plus Breakfast: 3gc/night
Standard Private Room: 4gc/night
Private Room plus Breakfast: 5gc/night
Special Rates apply for more then 5 nights


And in the coffee house was another notice board:


Quote:
Arakmatan Coffee: 2gc
Lauryllan Coffee: 4gc
Centripaxian Coffee: 7gc
Enamorian Coffee: 5gc
Sherian Coffee: 6gc

Arakmatan Tea: 1gc
Centripaxian Tea: 4gc
Eunesian Tea: 4gc
Primus Tea: 5gc

__________________

[Anora Eventide]

Anora didn't particularly care for taverns. They smelled of sweat, poverty and liquors of only middling quality. And that wasn't even taking into account the barrage of the patrons on her ears. This distaste was an odd vestige for a woman who had summered in a subterranean collegium guarded by somnambulistic undead, but Anora still enjoyed a touch of elegance.

It was with a peevish sort of apprehension that Anora entered the South Dunes.
Awaiting a gust of stale tavern air, she wrapped her partial veil tighter around her mouth and nose. But there was blessedly little smell. The sands and heat had scraped the structure clean, and to Anora's pleasure there was a suitable tea selection advertised above the bar.
However, there was no Larkson or Eventide vintage among the winelist, a rather upsetting fact. She couldn't expect too dreadfully much in the middle of a barren ocean of sand, though.

The woman weaved between the tables and chairs with eldritch smoothness. Her body touched nothing, save where her feet met the floor, until she approached the main bar.
Patiently, the woman waited to be noticed before she articulated her requests.
"Serale, can you help me arrange getting a room and some Arakmatian tea?" A cool smile before she added, "And if you would be so kind to indulge my curiosity, where do you get your teas and other such spices for this establishment?"

[Darkmavrck]

On the tea side of the tavern things were even more relaxing then the normally mellow alcohol side. Here people lounged on large fluffy pillows sipping on tea and enjoying the soft melodies of the flute players. As Anora made her way to the bar counter a middle aged male walked to the bar and gave a soft bow. His dirty blonde hair was tied back into a tight ponytail and stood out against his darkly tanned flesh. Upon hearing her request he disappeared to the opposite end of the room without a word only returning once he had fetched a decorative tea pot. The vessel was ornately decorated with spiraling gold trim that outlined pictures meticulously detailed to show the scenes of some wordless love story. His elegant fingers slipped the lid off the top of the pot and presented it to Anora in a polite offering hoping she approved of the aroma. The gesture would be familiar to any upper class citizen as it was preformed much like one presented a fine wine in a glass.

The Tea carried a brisk rich aroma that tickled the nostrils with a tinge of spice. The steam rising from the pot enveloped anyone who took to such things and filled the mind with a sense of imaginary bliss. Upon her approval the gentleman behind the counter softly sat the pot beside her and presented what looked like a small bowl on a tiny cloth napkin before her. Then with a practiced ease swept up the teapot and filled it half way to the brim with a grin and returned the pot to its previous home across the room.

The tea carried a flavor very similar to it’s aroma plus a slightly sweet addition. The man came back to her side in little time and spoke in a soft alluring voice not incredibly deep for his age but well matured none the less. “I see it is your first trip to Arakmat. All the business and citizens for that matter purchase goods from the Bazaar, if one is looking for something it can usually be found there. As for a room, will you be staying in a private or common room and will you be partaking in our delightful food on the next brightening? Further if you decide to stay with us for more then five brightenings we have special rates.”

[Duncan Sythe]

Finly Rel'or now, the Kemite was gone, as was the white haired man from the caravan. He wore clothes good enough to be worn finery, although not so good as to be nobleman's garb. The well worn scholar Finly Rel'or would do well enough. A quiet, confident man with grey hair down to his neck. His horse was stabled and he dropped his saddlebags next to him as he approached the counter.

“Serale, I would desire a private room and breakfast for a cycle, with perhaps more time to follow...or not. I shall none the less pay for a cycle.”

He offered the appropriate number of crowns, plus a tenth again, brown eyes staring calmly. Once a key was provided he made his way to his room and stowed his belongings, then came down again in a loose black leather coat, white silken tunic and brown breeches to enter the more fashionable side of the bar.

“An Arakmatian coffee and some news if you would be so kind.” Duncan inquired quietly in the guise of the grey haired Finly. "What is happening in Arakmat?"

[Darkmavrck]

“25 Crowns then sir.” The man behind the counter quickly took up the money as soon as Duncan laid it before him, exchanging the coin for a key to the room. “Breakfast is served from dawn to five candlemarks past. If you prefer to eat in private your meal can be brought to your room at a time of your desire.” After hearing any further arrangements from the graying scholar, the clerk jotted any notes the staff may have needed and gave the directions to his room. Inside, the quarters were not spacious by any means; around the beds was just enough room to maneuver about with a chest at the foot of each resting area for clothing and personals. Between the beds rested a lockable cupboard for any other personal items a renter may have wanted to store.

Back in the coffee house the blonde waiter was quick to serve the aging man. Bringing a finely crafted pot, decorated in the ancient fashions along with a cup and carefully poured the spiced brew. It was black as a moonless night, heavy with the odor of rich spice that bit at the tongue when consumed. Drifting away for only a moment, he returned with the last two issues of The Mirage, setting them before his customer with a slight bow. “If you have any questions I would be happy to elaborate, or if those do not suit you I can offer a bit of the street gossip.”

[Duncan Sythe]

Sitting down after settling his belongings and placing a small Imbuement on the lock of his chest Duncan headed downstairs and took his seat with coffee and The Mirage.

“My thanks Sir.” He offered the waiter as he spread the papers out and began to scan them, he presumed the man would go off and about his business whilst his guest studied the paper but didn't mind, he would call the man back later when he had questions. The coffee for its part was pleasant tart on his tongue, the spices energizing as he swirled the liquid around his mouth and swallowed, a moment's peace in the oasis of sandstorms.

Arakmat it seemed was a busy place with much going on. Whether the Necromancers were still an issue was something he might have to investigate and filed away in the back of his mind. For him most likely a side trip with some over-zealous Apprentice or Adept who had read the wrong books and gotten a bit of tutor ledge from a wandering troublemaker...but who knew when such things could lead to more? And only the likes of him, he considered wryly, could be so blasé about the dead walking.

As for crime...well, again, things could be done about that. Although he had to remind himself he hadn't come back west to solve the world's problems for it, had he? A memory struck him of a time long ago where he had fallen afoul one night of a Reverent in Nexus Prime and nearly died for the pleasure. Why he considered that these problems could be connected to a Vampiric presence he did not know...but something about it seemed wrong.

Reading the last few articles though popped out several names that took him away from musings on the Necromantic. Parreyon was a name he was familiar with Godah's, if only in passing. Perhaps he should make himself known? Or not, decisions on that could be made later...

That last name though. A clatter would no doubt bring the eyes of the waiter as he frowned at the final name and narrowed his eyes at it. Valenthia. Issues surrounded that particular name but she did not know he was here or who he was... although she might know what he was if they came within sight distance of each other. He frowned as he re-centered the cup on its saucer and tapped a finger against the edge.

How far did the crystal resonance reach? He didn't know...he'd just have to be careful, he had been able to mask it before in the midst of all of the Sanguine so he could do it here with just one. Finishing the coffee though he gestured to get the waiters attention.

“Another please good sir and one for yourself, I have a few questions of you and surely you can take a minute to tell an old man of his new home?”

He offered with a small, polite smile. Paying for the drinks then waiting for the man to presumably seat himself.

“Tell me of these rumours of corpses, I have heard of such things in other places caused by men with twisted minds but they are all so different, what are the problems that plague you?”

Duncan's persona inquired first. Once answers were given he gently prodded onto the next topic of interest.

“And her grace Miss L'Evienne is spoken of here, I had the fortune once to see the Regent in the capital, what is said of this relation of his and the new Vizer ?”

He continued, moving from necromancy to politics and happy to let the man elaborate on anything else he brought up in the process.

[Darkmavrck]

The young pale man, if one could really call his young and delicate features manly, gave one last final bow before retreating from his guest allowing him to savor his brew and read in peace. Tending to the pots, stirring the warming liquids and prepping other pots off to the side he watched the fellow carefully, occasionally passing by to give a glance of the eye to his cup, insuring it remained warm and full.

When the cup gently pinged against its porcelain saucer interrupting the normally soft and relaxing atmosphere of the small coffee bar Duncan felt more then just the waiter’s eyes upon him. The feeling of unease quickly faded however when the surrounding patrons that nothing dramatic had taken place, most simply marking the disruption up to a inexperienced patron of the delicate cups.

The young server wasted little time approaching his guest upon signal and carefully scooped up the delicate cup to inspect it for any flaws or chips from the mishap. He smiled softly and gave a gentle nod when invited to join and carefully placed the small handled bowl back on its resting place before fetching the pot and a second cup for himself. Pouring out two dishes of the brew, the ornamental vessel was returned to its heating slot as the youngster found a comfortable spot opposite Duncan. His blue eyes glimmered in the thin rays of desert light that snaked their way through the shears of the building, giving the youth a pleasant aura around him.

“I’ve been hearing less and less stories, but not because the problem is going away. At first the attacks were minor a few coming up from the sand and attacking, maybe causing a bit of havoc and then disappearing. There was even a lull at the end of Kalendryas, but then about a month and a cycle ago they started up in full force again, worse then last time. Small caravans are being slaughtered, the animals, the people, even their goods being sucked down into the strangle sands. I had a fellow come in about two cycles back, white as a virgin’s fresh linen he was. Was carrying on about eyes, dark eyes, and mumbling to himself, touched by the Aeternians he was.” The boys soft spoken voice drew to a pause as his eyes fell to the floor. “Killed himself that night in a fit of madness, made an awful mess of the room with his own blood.” The tender stopped short covering his mouth, gasping for a bit of air. “I don’t think I should have told ye that.”

He quickly moved on to the next subject trying to cover his bumble of words, that would likely cause him a bit of grief with the owner if she found out. “Consul L’Evienne, She is a kind enough lady, stopped in a time or two, always polite. I know she visits the sultan from time to time from the guards. Haven’t heard of any juicy rumors, but those fellows are so tight lipped you couldn’t pull a grain of sand off their tongues. She has the old consul building, and has been looking for help, that’s about all I know, rather secretive for a government official she is. As for her and the Vizer, I don’t know if they have formally met or not, if that’s what you mean? She has a liking for dogs as she has one the size of a horse that follows her about, but I’m unsure if the sentiment carries over to the dorin as well.” He paused taking a long sip from the cooling coffee, letting his tongue relax in the whirlpool of flavor while Duncan soaked up the wealth of information the young man was spewing out. “Vizer Godah though, he is a good man, honorable to no ends. Well respected and one of the sultan’s chief advisors. Commander Alric and he led our army to the east, but returned shortly because the war ended so quickly. Shame too, that was 15,000 men ready to kill every orc in their path or die trying. From what I understand the sultan keeps him rather busy though, lots of dignitaries passing through the city and the Vizer being the sultan’s right hand man, is always hanging about the palace.”

[Duncan Sythe]

Looking for help? There was an inroad there, not that he'd intended to get involved with Valanthia or any Sanguine on this trip. But he was far from Albrae and her thoughts on the subject and he could not hold off from interfering with those he knew about forever, could he? No, not really. He'd been being polite for Milo's sake and for Albrae's, but those brightenings were over and gone.

With thoughts of what benefit could be gained from meeting Valanthia swirling in his mind Duncan also considered the words regarding the other matter. It was certain worth investigation and probably needed it, but in some respects the matter of the Sanguine was more pressing...although equally a meeting with Godah could be placed on the cards as he knew the man from a search with Motito for hidden mines...a trip that had involved lots of giant scorpions.

Yes. There was a great deal to do in Arakmat. Settling back in his chair with another cup of coffee Finly Rel'or seemed emphatically...content.

“Who would I speak to regarding the stories of undead?” He inquired thoughtfully. “I have some knowledge of modern Necromantic rituals from study of the texts of the Master T'thun Brack, only a few Eras old. They speak of the rise of the undead as a tool to incite fear...which they certainly seem to be here, althoug what the long term goal is I have no idea.”

He shrugged, affecting the distracted, dismissing scholar and waited for an answer before inquiring about another matter.

“Anything else I should know of if I plan to live here a few months lad?”

Duncan inquired calmly, waiting to see what else, if anything, rolled from his tongue before perhaps finding somewhere with music and entertainment to enjoy the night in preparation for a solid cycle of...activity.

[Darkmavrck]

“Well I would say the militia house, they are the ones in charge of bounties, real no nonsense group…” The waiter pause as if lost in a sudden thought that came to mind, masking it beneath the rim of his cup before slowly setting the porcelain cup gently back on his saucer and picking up a rag to wipe up a few droplets of the liquid that had been missed earlier from the counter. “What was it you did again Mr….” There was the briefest of pauses “… Well I don’t think I caught your name or your trade.” It was one of those simple statements that doubled as a question that had to be answered. Something put forward that helped ease the tension when someone suddenly brought up the matter of necromancy and having a decent amount of literature at their disposal.

“Not a lot going on really, spring festival is coming up, usually takes place right after the wet season. Rather fun, lots of musicians and performers.” The blonde haired boy paused once more, as if considering his next statement. Secrets ran deep in the desert and this young wealth of information seemed to have his fingers dabbling in everything. His voice was lowered a bit as he continued to wipe the counter. “Usually outsiders aren’t permitted but I bet I could get you a seat if you had the crowns to gamble. There is a place in the city called the Sanctum of the Open Hand; they are a group of warrior magi, proficient in all kinds of hand to hand combat and arcana. They weave them together like a dance and we aren’t talking your run of the mill forms either, they specialize in rare, little known arts. Anyway, they host these underground fights all over the city; pit their men up against anyone willing to throw in a challenge. Take bets and collect coin to help fund their little organization. Like I said, if your interested I could probly pull a few strings and get you in on one… for a price of coarse.”

[Duncan Sythe]

Finly Rel'or smiled. Through it Duncan allowed something a little harder than the old scholar to show, just a little.

“Finly, lad.” He offered with an incline of his head. “Finly Rel'or, I have been many things in my life and continue to be many. For now though I am just a scholar in search of curiosity.” A pondering moment of consideration. “And those monks of yours sound like a curiousity.”

An amusing diversion too. Duncan Sythe and Finly Rel'or both never usually looked like mages. Duncan always hid his ability beneath an Illusion the likes of which few would be able to see past and except for rare occasions any illusionary personas were also, to the majority of mages, magically inept.

Fingers dipped into a coin pouch and several crowns slid out, spread expertly along the table in a manner of a man well used to paying for information. In that moment a hint at the depths that lay behind the eyes of Finly Rel'or visible.

“Introduce me. I could do with some excitement to bet upon.”

Certainly bounty hunters and milita guards weren't the right thing, he needed to go and see Godah anyway so the man-in-charge could tell him the truth about undead and Necromancers without him having to invent more credentials to get past the militia's street patrols.

[Darkmavrck]

As quickly as the crowns appeared, the young blonde’s rag passed over them and in an instant had vanished without sound or sight, a simple enough slight of hand but still somewhat impressive for a young barkeep. With a smile he slipped off, tossing the rag back under the counter from which it had come. Picking up the pot from earlier, the young boy tended a couple of the other patrons before returning to Duncan and filling his cup once more with a smile.

“I’ll swing by your room after shift, just as the first sun is setting a few hours before pracenda. Dress down a bit if you would, simple leathers or streets will do fine, but bring your coin, I will take you by the Sanctum and you can meet a couple of the fighters.” His tone lightened slightly and casually rose a bit as he began to walk away, leaving any curious ears little reason to be suspicious of their quiet words. “Call if you would like anything else Mr. Rel’or, to go with that coffee or if you’d like a snack, we have a few nice pastries that blend with it well”

With that it seemed the transaction was complete, Duncan had a time and place to be and his requested services were paid for. If he chose to stay and continue enjoying the cup of coffee, or even one of the simple pastries he was left to himself for the most part to enjoy said dishes. In the corner a flutist filled the air with a soft melody, the tones soft and high, relaxing to the mind, they provided a subtle and pleasant ambiance to the atmosphere for all to enjoy with there afternoon drink.

Duncan, Go HERE