Elrath
" The Pan-Dreamonica "
or
how Elrath found the seedy underground of Cloudsbreak
Elrath stood at the bottom of the small flight of steps leading up to the unmarked structure. He studied the dreamers that faced him., although, perhaps 'dreamers' is not an altogether accurate term. One figure, on closer inspection , appeared to be a Mare. Twice the size of an average dreamer, and carved completely out of shadow. The other guard was only slightly smaller than the Mare, and could be distinguished as a living being only by it's raspy, labored breath. Both were heavily armored (quite redundant for a entity made of shadow.) and both wielded large black halberds. Neither of the guards was paying him much attention, so Elrath started up the steps.
"PASSWORD!" boomed the Mare guard. His arm shot out to bar Elrath's path, and his other hand tightened around his halberd.
The Mare remained motionless.
"You've got to be kidding. Nobody told me about a password."
"WRONG!" bellowed the Mare.
"Let me in or I'll gut you where you stand." spat Elrath.
"YOU MAY ENTER." said the guard as he lowered his arm. "WELCOME TO THE PAN-DREAMONICA."
Elrath continued upwards, and knocked on the heavy iron door at the top of the steps. The door opened inward, and Elrath's ears were assaulted with a familiar cacophony of sounds. He had never been to the Pan-Dreamonica before, but he recognized a pub when he heard one.
He stood on a large balcony, from which more steps lead down into a huge rectangular pit. The balcony was cloaked in shadow, but Elrath could tell that it went all the way around the inside edge of the building. The pit served as the main room of the pub, and several iron doors lead off into other areas. Elrath smiled, wondering what went on behind those doors. Huge Mares, even larger than the one outside, stood guard in each of the four corners of the pit.
<<Bouncers>> thought Elrath.
The bar, which was at floor level directly across from the main entrance, occupied the entire length of the wall. The floor area was crammed with sturdy wooden tables, chairs, stools, benches, and even a few couches. Nearly every one was occupied. Thieves, assassins, cut-throats, mercenaries, pickpockets, pimps, ... every conceivable criminal act was represented here. All were busily drinking, shouting, arguing, telling lies, and generally doing whatever underworld scum did when they weren't out...well...being scum. More than a few men, and women, had already passed out on the floor.
Very few of the patrons looked up to acknowledge Elrath's presence. Those who did, quickly went on with what they had been doing. Elrath took a deep breath. The air was smoky, with an almost imperceptible hint of brimstone. As he stood and enjoyed the ambiance, Elrath felt a sudden tingling vibration in the front pocket of his pants...where he kept his fateslayer.
"Damned arts." he mumbled. Elrath looked around, trying to find out who was scanning him for weapons, and almost jumped when he realized he had been standing so close to...something.
The thing was perched on a small pedestal about three feet off of the ground. It was shaped roughly like a small man, but that's as far as the comparison could be taken. It's bright red leathery skin and wings were coated in some kind of disgusting oil, and it's long, pointed teeth glistened with saliva. To Elrath, it looked like a shaved, winged, red-skinned baboon with fangs. The thing wore a tiny loincloth around it's waist. Elrath wondered if it was male or female.
Elrath's knife suddenly stopped vibrating.
"Just checking for weapons..." said a voice. A tall man stepped out of the darkness behind the creature.
"You can keep them, of course. We just like to know who has what."
"Who are you?"
"Leonardo." the man lowered himself in a over-dramatized bow.
"What is this thing?" Elrath jerked his head toward the creature, who as currently licking it's own underarms with great zeal.
"That's the Imp Mare. Ever been here before?"
"No."
"Be sure to read the rules." Leonardo pointed a bony arm at the wall above the bar. Hanging there were two impossibly large stone tablets. Into each tablet were carved five 'rules.' Together, they made up the '10 Commandments' of the Pan-Dreamonica. Elrath took several steps away from the creature, and read the tablets:
1. No Fighting - Take it outside.
2. No Offensive Arts
3. Pub closes at Dawn. No Exceptions
4. Stay Away from the Mares
5. No Spitting
6. Curiosity Kills - Mind Your Own Business.
7. Live Dreamers Only - Dead Dreamers, Stay Away!
8. Don't Stare At the IMP!
9. You Steal...You Die.
10. Teachers Welcome, But Keep Your High Sphere Arts to Yourself.
"No spitting?" said Elrath.
"None."
Elrath suddenly had the most uncanny urge to spit. He resisted it.
"I think I can deal with that." Elrath started down the steps and into the main pit, but he couldn't help looking back at the Imp. The ugly mini-mare was staring at him hungrily . Elrath looked quickly away and continued down into the pub.
He sidled up to the bar where the white-haired bartender greeted him with a blank stare. Elrath stared back, wondering if the man was alive. Maybe the pub's ban on the dead dreamers only applied to customers, not employees. The bartender looked like an older, undead version of the club's greeter, Leonardo.
"Lookit 'dat!" a rowdy patron pointed in Elrath's general direction, "ee's havin' a starin' contest wit' da 'tender. You're gonna loose, mate! Ole Slim's jus gonna look at ya 'til ya order sumpin'"
Elrath mumbled an oath. He obviously wasn't going to find out anything about this place from the bartender.
"Okay, barkeep, what do you got?"
The bartender simply stared back.
"They got everything, " offered another patron, "Everything you want and a lot of stuff you DON'T want. Heh."
"I thought one of the rules was to mind your own freakin' business!" Elrath jerked his thumb at the commandments on the wall.
"Sorry," said the man, and he returned his attention to drinking.
Elrath turned to the bartender: "Spiced Ale!"
The stone-faced barkeep walked off, drew Elrath's ale, and then returned to place it in front of him. Elrath tossed the barkeep a chak. It bounced off the man's head and landed in a glass behind the bar.
Elrath turned and walked away, preferring to sit at a table instead of having to stare at the bartender as he drank. He noticed a few scantily clad waitresses making rounds, and was glad that he wouldn't have to return to the bar any time soon. Unfortunately, there were no empty tables, so he sat down next to a large, barrel-chested man with a neatly trimmed red beard. The man glanced at Elrath, as if appraising his worth.
"Problem?" said Elrath.
"No yet." The man turned away.
Elrath drank his ale in silence. As he turned the tankard up to drain it, his eye wandered up to the balcony, where the imp was looking directly at him.
"Gods! Is that freakin' thing ever gonna stop starin' at me?!?"
"Don't mind her," said his table-mate, "She likes to keep an eye on the newcomers."
"She?"
"He. She. It. Depends on the day of the week. It's a 'she' tonight, I think."
"Why is she staring at me, then?"
"Likes to watch the fresh meat, make sure you obey the rules and don't cause no trouble. It's okay as long as you don't stare back. She don't like that."
"What happens if I do?"
"You don't want to know." The stranger offered his hand to Elrath, "Name's Hars."
"Elrath." Elrath shook Hars's hand reluctantly
"Elrath as in 'El - Wrath'?"
"No. Elrath as in 'I'll slice your freakin' eyeballs out and feed 'em to that freakin' Imp.'" Elrath thought it he would blend in if he got cocky...
"Nice attitude."
"uh-huh."
The two sat in silence for a few moments, trying to ignore each other.
"So what's with the bartender?" asked Elrath after a while.
"Who, Slim?"
"Yeah, what's his story?"
"Don't really know. Haven't gotten around to askin' Leonardo about him yet. Ain't much for small talk, that's for sure."
"And Leonardo?"
"He works here. Greets people at the door. Walks around and mingles. Tells stories, answers questions. Pretty helpful fellow...for a PK'r."
"Play Killer," repeated Elrath.
"So he says. Retired, of course."
Elrath sat quietly, taking in the surroundings. He dis-liked the place more and more with every passing minute. But strangely it seemed to grow on him.
"Nice place." he said finally.
"You ain't seen half of it yet. See that door over there..." Hars turned around and pointed to a huge iron door set into the stone wall behind him. "That there's the Velvet Palace. Best dancin' girls in the city. All shapes, sizes and colors. Through there's the casino..." Hars pointed at another door. "It's closed right now. And up there..." The large man pointed to a guarded door off of the main balcony, "Are rooms you can rent."
"Rooms? Good, I was needin' a place to lay low for a while. How much-"
"Rooms are rented by the HOUR."
"Oh."
"You can get up there from the Velvet Palace, too. For your added convenience. You see Leonardo walkin' around, ask him to give ya the guided tour."
Elrath nodded.
"What about the big guy outside?"
"Who?"
"The guard. Asked me for a password."
Hars looked confused for a moment, then smiled.
"Ain't no guard. That was just the Imp playin' with ya. She senses somebody new comin' up the steps and she yanks their chain a little bit. Kind of like a test to see if you belong here. Had the entire Alliance of the Eclipse waitin' for me on my first time. I asked 'em if they wanted to fight me all at once or one at a time, then they all just disappeared. Just an illusion... all in fun."
"Hmmph."
"I ain't pryin' or nothing," said Hars, "but I ain't seen you around before. What brings you to the dark side of Cloudsbreak?"
"I...stumbled... upon it by mistake."
"Guess I could say the same." Hars smiled.
Elrath flagged down a waitress and ordered more beer.
"So, who runs this place?"
"Some old dreamer from way back, probably a Lyran gone astray, can't ever remember his name. Story is that he made some kind of deal with a Dark Mare. Got himself all big and powerful, and now that his time's almost up, he wants to do a little something for us thievin' bastards that helped make him what he is. "
"Can't remember the name, eh?"
"Nope. Nobody can. It's not a secret or anything, but it's the funniest thing... You hear somebody say it, and it's gone outta your head before the sentence is even finished."
"Damned arts..." mumbled Elrath.
"Exactly." replied Hars. " Mares of all types. The whole place runs off Dark Mare art. . See..." Hars pointed up to the high stone ceiling, where Elrath could just barely make out a large pointed crystal suspended by a short chain.
"What's that?"
"Don't know. But anybody tries to use the art of flame ruin, Hoo-Boy! You don't wanna be standin' next to
him when THAT thing goes off!"
Elrath smiled.
"Anybody gets outta hand and that Mare Imp'll cover 'em with a web of anti-art and teleport 'em straight into the sewers."
"Nice."
"Ain't no pansy-arse artsy dreamer gonna come in here throwin' their power around! Scum and cut-throats only! The law don't know or don't care, and if they did they couldn't get through the door in one piece! I've seen Leonardo and the Imp finish off a more than a few troublemakers."
"They serious about those rules?"
"Well, you know what they say... Rules is made to be broken. You can do whatever you want to, so long as you don't bother anyone else. You can whip out your fateslayer and start swinging it around like a lunatic, but as soon as ya touch somebody with it... BAM! You're up to you're neck in raw sewage. If you're lucky. Same goes for most of the arts. This is just a place to come to and relax and tell lies to each other."
"I think I'm gonna like this place."
