Post by orby on Mar 24, 2019 13:43:31 GMT
Despite that one attempt to relieve him of it, Caim made it past sundown with his coinpurse still in his possession. Wonders never cease.
But in the quickly darkening evening, the issue of a place to stay for at least the night became a priority, especially with parts of the city beginning to shut down for the day. It was a shopkeeper just locking up that Caim finally approached to ask for advice on that particular dilemma, and after a wary exchange he was directed south towards the Dock Ward.
The air down here was cool and carried an unfamiliar scent -- a fresh, briny smell he'd read about but never experienced until now. It'd been a minor mystery, once upon a time, what that vague description was actually like with nothing he could really compare it to. The only salt he'd ever known was for food and carried no particular aroma on its own, so how could something smell salty?
Mystery solved, at least. But that little revelation was easily forgotten in the face of the sea itself, when he finally turned that last corner and came in sight of the docks proper.
It hadn't been visible for more that brief glimpses between trees and around the edge of the city walls on his way in. Certainly, he'd never been able to see it before then from the windows of the temple. The sun was already set, but in the light of the moon the sheer size of it was still recognizable, if almost impossible to comprehend. It stretched out far past the docks, a huge swath of gently roiling water until it met with a strip of land and walls that looked like they rose straight out of the bay in the dark, and in the openings between those there was yet more water reaching out as far as the horizon. It seemed endless, like everything he'd ever read had described and yet still more than he could have imagined. It wasn't what he'd come down this way to find, but Caim still paused a long while by the edge of the road where the cobblestone came to an sharp edge and dropped off into the black water below. There were still figures moving about in the dark, people hurrying through the road on their way to one place or another and silhouettes walking the docks on whatever business, but compared to the bustling streets from just hours earlier it was wondrously peaceful. Mostly quiet, but for the sound of gentle waves lapping up against wood and stone and the more distant noise of the city.
If he stood there longer than was perhaps wise, lingering alone in the dark, it was maybe understandable. And at least this time his luck held out and nothing bad came of it.
After too much time spent by the docks in the bracing sea air, Caim did eventually wander back up by the buildings, curiously looking over each storefront and warehouse and row house as he passed, most of them closed up for the night. He had to head back up away from the docks again a block or so before he finally managed to find the inn he'd been recommended. The Sailor's Corner, unlikely to turn away a paying customer and nothing too pricey. He was admittedly a poor judge of the latter, so a local's opinion was surely his best bet. Even he knew it wouldn't be wise to run through his limited funds too quickly, with no plans yet as to how he might make more.
Ducking inside, he found it was still a lively evening despite the fairly late hour (or perhaps because of it). The tables were heavily laden with drinks, ringed by groups of patrons jostling each other and shouting across the room. The air inside was thick with that same fishy smell from the bay, and between that and the locale (and the name alone, honestly) Caim guessed this was a popular spot for sailors and those working on the docks. He frowned as he felt a few of the nearest sets of eyes glance his way, and tugged his hood down a bit more securely before making his way over to the bar, waiting quietly for a rowdy-looking pair to finish their dealings with the bartender rather than trying to interrupt.
This, at least, he could manage. He'd already fumbled through such an exchange once before now.
And it was blessedly simple inquiring about a room and getting that set up. The price was just a few silver, and this time he knew he had that at least just in the change from the roadside inn last night. Paying in gold had drawn an odd look from that innkeep, but it'd seemed less suspicious at the time than blindly digging through a coinpurse whose contents he wasn't entirely sure of. Here, now, he could hand over the silver still sitting at the top of the pouch quickly and easily like a functional person who definitely knew what they were doing.
"Anythin' to drink? Eat?" The bartender cast a critical eye over Caim as if judging what extra coin could be scraped out of this transaction. "Anyone here'll tell you we've got the finest stew south of Virgin's Square, real nice this time of year..."
Caim hesitated just a moment too long, frowning down at the rough surface of the bar uncertainly. Food would be nice -- he'd never quite appreciated the simplicity and ease of having it provided at regular intervals until the last few days -- but he was less fond of the thought of sitting down here with it where he felt dreadfully out of place. Would it be stranger to ask to bring it to his room...?
As he mused over it, he became dimly aware of voice being raised even higher than what seemed to be the standard here, in the heads turning in their direction were any indication. Caim chanced a glance that way, curious despite a building sense of unease -- unease that only grew as the bartender leaned around him to shout a scolding sort of warning.
Off to the side of the main floor, a rough-looking man was out of his seat and leaning over a table, leaning heavily on the rickety-looking thing in a way that seemed dangerously close to unbalancing the whole thing. He loomed over a second man across from him, still seated but glaring up at the first with a sneer. Caim failed to catch the context of the yelling as he tuned in belatedly, other patrons drowning out what else was being said with shouts of their own, encouraging the scene for reasons Caim couldn't begin to fathom.
The innkeep had just abandoned Caim to step around the bar towards the commotion when whatever was going on seemed to come to a head: all at once, the seated man surged up to grab at the other. Tankards clattered as the table shook precariously, and several others leapt from their seats to grab at one man or the other. Caim would have thought it an attempt to break up the conflict, but the first punch getting thrown quickly snuffed out that optimistic thought. All around him were voices, egging the combatants on or cheering or snarling their own complaints. When the table finally upended, sending drinks splashing across the floor and other patrons, he could only press himself back against the bar and clench his eyes shut and send up a prayer for the first time in at least a year or two.
But in the quickly darkening evening, the issue of a place to stay for at least the night became a priority, especially with parts of the city beginning to shut down for the day. It was a shopkeeper just locking up that Caim finally approached to ask for advice on that particular dilemma, and after a wary exchange he was directed south towards the Dock Ward.
The air down here was cool and carried an unfamiliar scent -- a fresh, briny smell he'd read about but never experienced until now. It'd been a minor mystery, once upon a time, what that vague description was actually like with nothing he could really compare it to. The only salt he'd ever known was for food and carried no particular aroma on its own, so how could something smell salty?
Mystery solved, at least. But that little revelation was easily forgotten in the face of the sea itself, when he finally turned that last corner and came in sight of the docks proper.
It hadn't been visible for more that brief glimpses between trees and around the edge of the city walls on his way in. Certainly, he'd never been able to see it before then from the windows of the temple. The sun was already set, but in the light of the moon the sheer size of it was still recognizable, if almost impossible to comprehend. It stretched out far past the docks, a huge swath of gently roiling water until it met with a strip of land and walls that looked like they rose straight out of the bay in the dark, and in the openings between those there was yet more water reaching out as far as the horizon. It seemed endless, like everything he'd ever read had described and yet still more than he could have imagined. It wasn't what he'd come down this way to find, but Caim still paused a long while by the edge of the road where the cobblestone came to an sharp edge and dropped off into the black water below. There were still figures moving about in the dark, people hurrying through the road on their way to one place or another and silhouettes walking the docks on whatever business, but compared to the bustling streets from just hours earlier it was wondrously peaceful. Mostly quiet, but for the sound of gentle waves lapping up against wood and stone and the more distant noise of the city.
If he stood there longer than was perhaps wise, lingering alone in the dark, it was maybe understandable. And at least this time his luck held out and nothing bad came of it.
After too much time spent by the docks in the bracing sea air, Caim did eventually wander back up by the buildings, curiously looking over each storefront and warehouse and row house as he passed, most of them closed up for the night. He had to head back up away from the docks again a block or so before he finally managed to find the inn he'd been recommended. The Sailor's Corner, unlikely to turn away a paying customer and nothing too pricey. He was admittedly a poor judge of the latter, so a local's opinion was surely his best bet. Even he knew it wouldn't be wise to run through his limited funds too quickly, with no plans yet as to how he might make more.
Ducking inside, he found it was still a lively evening despite the fairly late hour (or perhaps because of it). The tables were heavily laden with drinks, ringed by groups of patrons jostling each other and shouting across the room. The air inside was thick with that same fishy smell from the bay, and between that and the locale (and the name alone, honestly) Caim guessed this was a popular spot for sailors and those working on the docks. He frowned as he felt a few of the nearest sets of eyes glance his way, and tugged his hood down a bit more securely before making his way over to the bar, waiting quietly for a rowdy-looking pair to finish their dealings with the bartender rather than trying to interrupt.
This, at least, he could manage. He'd already fumbled through such an exchange once before now.
And it was blessedly simple inquiring about a room and getting that set up. The price was just a few silver, and this time he knew he had that at least just in the change from the roadside inn last night. Paying in gold had drawn an odd look from that innkeep, but it'd seemed less suspicious at the time than blindly digging through a coinpurse whose contents he wasn't entirely sure of. Here, now, he could hand over the silver still sitting at the top of the pouch quickly and easily like a functional person who definitely knew what they were doing.
"Anythin' to drink? Eat?" The bartender cast a critical eye over Caim as if judging what extra coin could be scraped out of this transaction. "Anyone here'll tell you we've got the finest stew south of Virgin's Square, real nice this time of year..."
Caim hesitated just a moment too long, frowning down at the rough surface of the bar uncertainly. Food would be nice -- he'd never quite appreciated the simplicity and ease of having it provided at regular intervals until the last few days -- but he was less fond of the thought of sitting down here with it where he felt dreadfully out of place. Would it be stranger to ask to bring it to his room...?
As he mused over it, he became dimly aware of voice being raised even higher than what seemed to be the standard here, in the heads turning in their direction were any indication. Caim chanced a glance that way, curious despite a building sense of unease -- unease that only grew as the bartender leaned around him to shout a scolding sort of warning.
Off to the side of the main floor, a rough-looking man was out of his seat and leaning over a table, leaning heavily on the rickety-looking thing in a way that seemed dangerously close to unbalancing the whole thing. He loomed over a second man across from him, still seated but glaring up at the first with a sneer. Caim failed to catch the context of the yelling as he tuned in belatedly, other patrons drowning out what else was being said with shouts of their own, encouraging the scene for reasons Caim couldn't begin to fathom.
The innkeep had just abandoned Caim to step around the bar towards the commotion when whatever was going on seemed to come to a head: all at once, the seated man surged up to grab at the other. Tankards clattered as the table shook precariously, and several others leapt from their seats to grab at one man or the other. Caim would have thought it an attempt to break up the conflict, but the first punch getting thrown quickly snuffed out that optimistic thought. All around him were voices, egging the combatants on or cheering or snarling their own complaints. When the table finally upended, sending drinks splashing across the floor and other patrons, he could only press himself back against the bar and clench his eyes shut and send up a prayer for the first time in at least a year or two.
