The Siren's Lament (Tavern) (#10/28; #41/365)
Named after a folk tale dating to the early days of Pellodian settlement, where a Caresepolitan sailor fell in love with the last of a shoal of Sirens who once dwelt among these rocky bays. This tragic story is recounted to gullible visitors to the tavern (Poor Quality), often while they are being silently relieved of their valuables by devious pickpocketing locals. For the Siren's Lament is a den of thieves and many other things besides; a sailor's tavern, a (covert) haunt for pirates and smugglers, a waystop for sea travellers and oceanic wanderers, who are all hopefully quick of wit and even quicker with their sword blades.
The tavernkeep is Candarul (one-eyed, rude), an ex-pirate with little time for fools and idiots, who professes mock-innocence at the many crimes that may occur on the premises of the Siren's Lament. With a quayside locale and a garish sign featuring a scantily-clad Siren howling at the moon, the tavern is packed most nights, and trouble is never far away. The local city watchmen usually give the tavern ten to twenty minutes to sort out any 'issues' before they make an appearance.
The bill of fare is cheap bad ale, seaman's grog and even Guursh at times, if a crew of Man-Orc corsairs are on shore leave. Food is limited to the basics; fried squid, roasted fish, Arantian groundnuts, and skewered live shrimp. Pinfinger is the most popular game by far, as weapons are allowed on the premises. Rumour states a backroom is used for Knifey-Knifey, but gaining admittance to these sessions requires an initiation ritual that is almost as deadly as the game itself.
The Gambling Pit of Ghudra (#11/28; #42/365)
This literal hole in the ground is the collapsed ruin of an old Carsepolitan villa, that started off as an illegal dice den, and, over time, became an acceptable gambling retreat. Stairs lead down from street level to a sunken pit, surrounded by shadowy alcoves, featuring a host of different gambling past-times, from Ten-Ten to Orc Eye. The entire operation is overseen by Quikul (dextrous, cheerful), and a team of club-wielding invigilators, rooting out troublemakers, cheats, and cash-shy voyeurs wherever they find them.
Drinks are cheap and plentiful to encourage more gambling; and generally consist of ales and spirits. Food is similarly simple, being roast squid, fried fish, burned tubers and other fire-grilled items. There is no house policy on winners and winnings; most participants being so drunk and/or spectacularly bad at judging the odds that the place turns a profit. Some of this profit is then turned over to the local Rogues' Guild as 'protection', and, as such, many of the guild-members are often in attendance, 'overseeing' the operation.
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