It occurred to me

[Bertjammin]

Not sure how I'm going to use this yet, but it occurred to me so I thought I'd share:


Rain slashed down onto the muddy track that served as a road between buildings. The architecture itself was ramshackle and random, held together by proximity as much as design, as if the walls had agreed that if one stayed up they all had to. Lost souls who had no shelter, or had sampled too many of the delights available in the district, were huddled in corners and under makeshift covers. He stepped between or over and he moved further down the street, splashing in the waste and mud.

The broken neon sign glowed and fizzed in the wet and gloom, casting a rainbow of light around a dark stone archway below where it hung. The words were descriptive and succinct "Booze & Girlz"

He stepped inside the archway, following steps that led down into a dive of a place. The humid warmth hit him moments before the atmosphere infected his nose and stung his nostrils. A variety of different smokes and ingestible fumes blended and conspired to make a heady and unique brew. He stopped, steadying himself for a moment as he surveyed the scene.

A bar, tended by a single brute of a man extended along the wall to his left. In the far right hand corner on a small stage a lone musician sat playing some sort of wind instrument he didn't recognise. A haunting, melancholic tune that spoke wordlessly of love lost, hopes shattered and misery found. Fitting, he thought. Between the steps and the musician were a series of round topped tables, some with patrons, some without. The smoke hung heavily in the air but he could make out some faces, most he'd never met but could read as clearly as the neon sign outside.

To the far right, tucked against the wall he saw her, puffing on an elaborate enamelled hookah pipe.

He walked to the bar and ordered a drink. There was no way he was doing this without one. As if it caused him actual physical pain the solid slab of beef masquerading as a bar tender took his money and handed him a worn and scratched glass of what was known literally in the local lingua as "water of fire". He drank, was raw and burning but after the conditions outside it wasn't completely unwelcome. Glass in hand he moved across the room and sat before her.

She took a long drag at her pipe, never looking away from the musician on the stage. He broke the stand off, taking his scabbard and holster from his belt and placing them on the table.

"I hear you want someone ended. I'm your man."

"You are indeed sir," Her eyes flicked across to meet his, venom burning behind them. "and your end has come..."

The rest of the patrons in the bar stood, weapons drawn.

[Aurin]

Like this a lot!

[Bertjammin]

Thanks I might end up expanding it a little and send to my players as a prologue for a future adventure shard. For now I just needed to get it down on paper and thought I'd share.

[Angelman]

Nice and dramatic