Dornoch - The Painted Lady
Not the nicest tavern in the world, The Painted lady had always held a sort of charm to it. Never quiet, never overwhelming. A constant stream of miscreants, thieves, dock-workers, and dozens of other slices of life roamed through the tavern at all times. No one could ever really explain why the place was so damned popular. The Ale wasn't that good, the food was rotten half the time, and the Innkeep?
She was a surly hag that most people would have avoided on her best days.
Yet every time one ventured to Dornoch it was almost an assurance that The Painted Lady would be filled to the brim.
It was a fact that Kala had found to be true for most of her life. She had been to this city near a dozen times, each one for a different job. Invariably she had always come here, though she knew the truth of the place. At least the truth of it's basement anyway. The Painted Lady was a front, of sorts. Operating as a business on top of what most would have considered a sort of thieves guild.
They were the ones that ensured the place remained busy, kept a constant traffic. A tavern with lots of people made it easy for thieves to slip in and out of. Many faces made for easy minds, and thus it was a simple task for someone like her to slip in without one of the cities many Retainers ever catching a glimpse of her. She'd once asked Mistress Hathor how the Guild kept everyone moving through the tavern, and the only answer she'd received had been a short shrug and a pittance about how cheap ale always drew a crowd.
The Tiefling doubted it was really that simple.
Kala shook her head as she watched one man push another over the attentions of a tavern wench. A shout was raised, a fist was thrown, but before it could go any further the man was practically tackled onto the ground.
Such things were a common sight within the Lady, and most of the customers did not even turn around as the fight quickly began and ended. The Tiefling glanced down at her mug, gauging the time that had passed by the depth of ale still remaining. Her head cocked to the side, and then she pulled herself to her feet, throwing a coin of silver onto the table.
The meeting would be starting soon, and she was eager to find out why she'd been called here in the first place.
Not the nicest tavern in the world, The Painted lady had always held a sort of charm to it. Never quiet, never overwhelming. A constant stream of miscreants, thieves, dock-workers, and dozens of other slices of life roamed through the tavern at all times. No one could ever really explain why the place was so damned popular. The Ale wasn't that good, the food was rotten half the time, and the Innkeep?
She was a surly hag that most people would have avoided on her best days.
Yet every time one ventured to Dornoch it was almost an assurance that The Painted Lady would be filled to the brim.
It was a fact that Kala had found to be true for most of her life. She had been to this city near a dozen times, each one for a different job. Invariably she had always come here, though she knew the truth of the place. At least the truth of it's basement anyway. The Painted Lady was a front, of sorts. Operating as a business on top of what most would have considered a sort of thieves guild.
They were the ones that ensured the place remained busy, kept a constant traffic. A tavern with lots of people made it easy for thieves to slip in and out of. Many faces made for easy minds, and thus it was a simple task for someone like her to slip in without one of the cities many Retainers ever catching a glimpse of her. She'd once asked Mistress Hathor how the Guild kept everyone moving through the tavern, and the only answer she'd received had been a short shrug and a pittance about how cheap ale always drew a crowd.
The Tiefling doubted it was really that simple.
Kala shook her head as she watched one man push another over the attentions of a tavern wench. A shout was raised, a fist was thrown, but before it could go any further the man was practically tackled onto the ground.
Such things were a common sight within the Lady, and most of the customers did not even turn around as the fight quickly began and ended. The Tiefling glanced down at her mug, gauging the time that had passed by the depth of ale still remaining. Her head cocked to the side, and then she pulled herself to her feet, throwing a coin of silver onto the table.
The meeting would be starting soon, and she was eager to find out why she'd been called here in the first place.