Moderator: Stix

Moderator: Stix

Bleak Cabal Headquarters. Part asylum, part almshouse, part orphanage, the Gatehouse has an ever-present line of sods waiting to cross the threshold. The Bleakers don't have the manpower to let in very many; some wait in line for weeks, and many die holding their places.

Moderator: Stix

Moderator: Stix

Moderator: Stix

Moderator: Stix

Moderator: Stix

Moderator: Stix

Moderator: Stix

Moderator: Stix

Moderator: Stix

Moderator: Stix

Tavern.
Clientéle: Bleaker factotums and middlemen, as well as the "high society" of the fashionably hopeless and tragically hip.
Atmosphere: A taproom full of flimsy wooden tables and chairs, irregularly decorated in dark colors. Most conversation is quiet, but regular patrons seldom begrudge any noisy visitors (performers are tolerated, but shouldn't expect to make any tips). No one seems to mind anything that gets carved into or painted on the walls.
Proprietor: Unknown. How the place stays in business is a mystery. The bar is always manned by one or more servers of various races (but most often humans or tieflings).
Bill of Fare: Patrons pay a 2 SP cover charge. Pitchers and glasses are always brought to a table, but the consistency ends there. Sometimes the pitchers are empty and the glasses are full of whatever bub is on hand for the day, or the pitchers are full of bub and the glasses full of holes, or the patrons receive no drink whatsoever. Staff argue that the erratic service is representative of "meaningful meaninglessness".

Moderator: Stix

Moderator: Stix

Moderator: Stix

Moderator: Stix

Moderator: Stix

Moderator: Stix

Private Residence.
Atmosphere: From the outside, the place is unmarked -- just an old patched cellar door on rusty hinges, around the corner from Orsmonder's Meats. Within, a steep stair descends two stories below the butcher shop, to the depth of the catacombs beneath the city streets. The single "room" is more of a hallway, oriented on a slant from the stairs, seven feet across and fifty feet wide with a ceiling barely six feet high. On the end furthest from the door is a pile of old rags opposite a mud puddle that smells of the rendered animal runoff from the slaughter room above.
Owner: Hilathic.

Moderator: Stix

Moderator: Stix

Moderator: Stix

Gladiatorial Arena.
Clientèle: Warriors looking to prove their worth in a fist fight, a duel to first blood, or a fight without rules. Mostly humans, tieflings, gith, fiends, and lower planar humanoids.
Atmosphere: An emptied-out warehouse with a large painted circle arena surrounded by standing spectators. Two 250-gallon kegs sit in one corner, along with a bartender standing behind a large crate, dispensing cheap bub in dented tin mugs.
Proprietor: Felgar, an ill-dressed rumormongering gnome.

Moderator: Stix