In the lowestmost levels of Thule the canopy of buildings and walkways blocked out almost all natural light. A sea of candles and lamps burned night and indistinguishable day, providing needed light and occasionally starting a fire that incinerated everything not made of stone.
One of the wooden buildings destined to be burned to cinders the next time a knocked over oil lamp got out of hand was an ugly little tavern called The Unpainted Dog. The Unpainted Dog was owned and operated by the unlikely pair of Ellaire Strozzi and Simon Underworth, two self-styled "venturers" who slept in the attic.
The Strozzi were vassals of House Baal, and this position of subservience never sat well with Ellaire. At 16 she ran away from home to become a witch. She was eventually excommunicated from her coven because "all the other witches were jealous" and after a few weeks of homelessness became desperate enough to partner with one Simon Underworth.
Simon himself was raised by the streets, and the streets taught him all kinds of unspeakable things. Simon was a professional thief and an amateur murderer until he met Ellaire, at which point he became a professional murderer as well.
The Unpainted Dog was originally owned by a homely couple who Ellaire and Simon were almost certain were Orcs. Therefore the pair killed them and took their bar. To date, this has been the only successful venture of their unregistered illegal venture company Avarice Incorporated (they were not actually incorporated).
It had been a little over a year since the emotional highs of the siege of The Unpainted Dog. In the intervening time it would have been less accurate to describe Ellaire and Simon as "venturers" and more accurate to describe them as "unsuccessful tavernkeepers".
In that time the Unpainted Dog had become something of the unofficial tavern for the venturing community in Thule's South Pits district. This was a devastating blow to business, since venturers liked to run up huge tabs before engaging in suicidal acts of bravery and they drove away all the hypothetical "respectable folk" that Ellaire was eternally attempting to pander to.
Simon had successfully slept off his hangover by 3 in the afternoon. He pulled his only pair of pants back on and walked down the rickety stairs to the tavern.
The interior of the Unpainted Dog was just as unpleasant as the exterior. It was a dark little hole of unpainted wood with a long bar and a number of questionable chairs. The Dog's barmaid Alys, and indentured servant purchased from a local debtor's prison, was behind the bar.
Ellaire was sitting at the bar speaking to a tall man in a dark hooded cloak. They finished before Simon could get close enough to eavesdrop, and the man nodded and left. Simon walked over.
"What's the skilamalink?" asked Simon.
"I beg your pardon?" asked Ellaire.
"You really need to learn how people talk," said Simon.
"I refuse," Ellaire replied "The day I understand any of this gutterspeak is the day I have taken another step closer to becoming one of you. A wise demonologist once said: when you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back at you. Now, if you would like to address me in proper Lemurian which I happen to know you speak-"
"Fine," said Simon "Just... stop. I don't even care, I was being polite."
"On an entirely unrelated matter," said Ellaire "I have been discussing business with my new shady acquaintance. We have a job, one outside the service industry."
"Aren't you in a good mood," said Simon "This job must be worthwhile."
"2,500 marks, in specie," Ellaire said.
YOU ARE READING
City of Sinister Angles
FantasyThese are the tales of decadence, cronyism and long knives from Thule, the city of sinister angles. A dark city-state that ate the island that houses it and now gnaws at the rest of the world. It's gibbous towers and jutting spires grow ever taller...