❊Frost 47 4621❊
The Creaky Window was a ramshackle metal warehouse from a bygone Age which had been converted to a tavern out in the Badlands. In this desert it was a common respite to see small outposts like Creaky Window. To no surprise, with a revolving door of clientele nothing was stopping anyone from robbing or pillaging. And yet these places were sometimes safe havens for gossip and exaltation. It was large inside and the latter half was collapsed, exposed to the elements. For the most part it was a bar but on the upper level you could see a mess hall of beds and storage compartments.
It was still early and yet the sun shone the last rays of light for the day on the tavern goers. The laughter coming from the closest table to the bar was the loudest in the room. They were playing party games, drinking beer and flipping dice while betting sums of gold. They appeared closed off despite the merry making, avoiding others in the bar and not making conversation with anyone other than their group. On the other side of the bar a man played darts alone. His battlements made him that of an elite but what really set him apart was the metal claw he used to throw the darts at the target. Bothering no one, simply playing his game, there he stayed. The bar is attended by a Rathor desert mouse who busies himself with the task of counting money. There are three unmarked barrels and few glasses along with bottles of liquor and cigars on the shelves. The mouse seems amicable and is quiet. For the most part while the bar is inhabited there is still plenty of seating. The smell of food will waft, something meaty and dark orange is served, juicy and oozing on a platter.
Vassillios can strike up a conversation with any of the people detailed in the bar. Those mentioned all have a place in the story but he can only talk to one in the next reply. Choose wisely and good luck!
