Curse Of The Crimson Throne Pathfinder

Another Sunday evening.

Who can I trust?

It is another Sunday evening. More of the regulars shuffle in. I have served here at 'Jeggy's Jug' for two months. At least it is better than 'The Tilted Elbow'.  Sixteen years it has been since I lost my Papa at the hand of Lamm. Living on the streets has taught me self reliance. Jonn, an  acquaintance in the Cerulean Society helped me get this job. Barmaid! What would Papa think of me. Papa taught me how to make locks and keys. But no-one trusts a girl that can fix locks. I am stuck waitressing and pulling ales.  Maybe than tall Halfling will come back and show me how to mix that brew we shared the other night…….

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[It has been a couple of days since I “encouraged” some rats to seek food and shelter in the cellar of Jeggy’s Jugs. About now they should be eating and shitting everywhere in the tavern.]

My growling stomach reminded me that I should drop in at the taverns and ‘earn’ some food and pinch for removing the rats that infest there. It is also time to see if any new leads on Lamm have floated to the top of this city of filth.

After some hours of eating and ‘shooing’ rats away I have returned to my favourite Sunday drinking place, Jeggy’s. A well earned ale and to watch the feeding of the city otuygh’s.

Patrons keep a wide berth of me, due to my unwashed state I think, and the growing rep as a ‘rat catcher’. I care not. This may look bad, but after a year in Korvosan prison this is nothing, and it reminds me of what Lamm did to my life and how much he owes me.

Looking around the room I hope to see some new faces or connections to Lamm that will help me find justice soon. I force a closed lip smile at the halfling barmaid that I shared a drink with some time ago.

I think back to my mothers words on my past relationships with females from other races, father was furious that I was not attracted to other halflings and often beat me. He never understood, because he didn’t know what secrets mother and I shared when he was at sea.

Anyway, the barmaid seemed pleasant enough to talk with and may know some news about Lamm. I raised my burnt hand, in a poor wave to her, before going to back to watch the feeding.

Another Sunday evening.
 

[Some hours later, when the tavern becomes busier with the after dinner drinks flowing]

The table near the window where the dishevelled mage was sitting is now vacant. No one saw the Halfling leave or even noticed him casually walking around the tavern tables as if he belonged there.

While patrons were talking and enjoying their meals this unassuming ‘waiter’ helped clear their tables while helping himself to a few loose coins here and there.

Head bowed and hood pulled tight Bamil stepped into the darkness outside and seemed to just disappear into the night, leaving a fat brown rat to scurry behind the outside water barrel.

Another Sunday evening.
gerard_obrien

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