People of all sorts can be found in the docks, and people that can find all sorts of things can be found in the docks as well.
A tendril of smoke wafted through the air, dancing along the wind. Avoiding people, it made its way to through the dock side, stopping in front of a stone door cut into a stone wall. The smoke materialized and the shape of a drow took form, a blurry form at best. In a few moments, CaelMal was clearly visible. Staring at the door, he folded his arms and smiled, saying "I am home."
The building is nondescript from the outside, appearing to be a hole in the wall. The door is arched, twin statues flanking it. One is a dragon in flight, the other is a drow elf, both arms folded over his chest, hood pulled low. Over the door, words are carved, reading "L' ust d'lil vaen." A small stone box is off to the left of the door, a slot for messages and notes on the top of it.
Pushing open the door, Cael stepped inside and shrugged, saying "It has not changed as much as I would have thought." There are stone stools spread about the room, and along one side there is a stone table with stone chairs. A large, circular fire pit lies in the middle, the flames coming from it are black and dark blue. Moss and lichen hang from the wall, bathing the room in a pale, yellow light. A stream runs out of the wall, chortling softly behind the large stone bar on the backwall. Behind it are bottles, drinks and potions. Stone shelves are cut into the walls, odds and ends spread on them. On the right hand side of the door, there are two mannequins, wearing twin sets of adamantium chain mail and dark robes, a red hand adorning the robes. The red hand is shot through with black veins, appearing to be cracked and weathered. Blades of all types hang from random spots on the walls and a large bow is leaned against one corner. A stone desk is cut out of the wall, a stone chair in front of it. On the desk are maps and stacks of books, a pad of paper and a quill pen.
The place is a gathering place for those looking for things, or wishing to hide things. The drow can be seen there often, sitting at the bar and staring at maps, reading dusty tomes and unfurling ancient scrolls. Come here to listen to tales of the underdark and the many places, listen to stories of Faerun. Here, the secrets unfold, The stones talk to those who would listen, and the drow listens to all, storing information and waiting for the right chance.
The drow moved across the room, running a hand over the lichen and smiling faintly to himself. Taking a seat at the chair, he swiveled it towards the desk and opened a book, a finger running through the layers of dust. "I am truly home once more."
A tendril of smoke wafted through the air, dancing along the wind. Avoiding people, it made its way to through the dock side, stopping in front of a stone door cut into a stone wall. The smoke materialized and the shape of a drow took form, a blurry form at best. In a few moments, CaelMal was clearly visible. Staring at the door, he folded his arms and smiled, saying "I am home."
The building is nondescript from the outside, appearing to be a hole in the wall. The door is arched, twin statues flanking it. One is a dragon in flight, the other is a drow elf, both arms folded over his chest, hood pulled low. Over the door, words are carved, reading "L' ust d'lil vaen." A small stone box is off to the left of the door, a slot for messages and notes on the top of it.
Pushing open the door, Cael stepped inside and shrugged, saying "It has not changed as much as I would have thought." There are stone stools spread about the room, and along one side there is a stone table with stone chairs. A large, circular fire pit lies in the middle, the flames coming from it are black and dark blue. Moss and lichen hang from the wall, bathing the room in a pale, yellow light. A stream runs out of the wall, chortling softly behind the large stone bar on the backwall. Behind it are bottles, drinks and potions. Stone shelves are cut into the walls, odds and ends spread on them. On the right hand side of the door, there are two mannequins, wearing twin sets of adamantium chain mail and dark robes, a red hand adorning the robes. The red hand is shot through with black veins, appearing to be cracked and weathered. Blades of all types hang from random spots on the walls and a large bow is leaned against one corner. A stone desk is cut out of the wall, a stone chair in front of it. On the desk are maps and stacks of books, a pad of paper and a quill pen.
The place is a gathering place for those looking for things, or wishing to hide things. The drow can be seen there often, sitting at the bar and staring at maps, reading dusty tomes and unfurling ancient scrolls. Come here to listen to tales of the underdark and the many places, listen to stories of Faerun. Here, the secrets unfold, The stones talk to those who would listen, and the drow listens to all, storing information and waiting for the right chance.
The drow moved across the room, running a hand over the lichen and smiling faintly to himself. Taking a seat at the chair, he swiveled it towards the desk and opened a book, a finger running through the layers of dust. "I am truly home once more."