"Thiago, we have a problem," Natanyl Anaki muttered with a grimace to the scowling barkeep at the opposite side of the counter. "You do this every time I come in."
The middle-aged Adelan wasn't in the mood for nonsense. Thankfully, neither was Natanyl. He leaned his thick sausage hands on the counter and pursed his lips at the dark elf. "What is it this time, Ashboy?"
"The brandy is watered down again," Nataynl explained. "Taste it! I paid for alcohol, not water."
Thiago snatched Nat's glass and downed the whole shot. "Hmph! Tastes fine to me. Must be something wrong with your tongue."
Natanyl glared at him while Thiago poured him another. "You know there's a reason everyone goes to the Randy Peach, you old bastard. I tell you the day Elendra and the girls close their legs, this whole place is going under. Mark my words." It was almost like a curse and Natanyl snatched his glass away from the old man, marching up the stairs.
Although no one in this establishment was as old as he was, he was sure of it. The Gold Candelabra wasn't exactly rife with excitement. But it was a quieter brothel than the Peach and it was just what he needed to get away from the long, hard road.
There were few carriages these days, not exactly an upturn in business prospects for a highway robber such as he. Natanyl would have to get more creative if he didn't want to starve to death. He was hungry for a decent night's rest, a warm meal, and a hot bed. It'd been ages since he allowed himself to stay in one place for long. And he seemed to be coming back to Ketra.
He rapped his knuckles across the door to Elendra's room. She was an old friend that was one of those 'keep 'em coming back for more' types. She did well enough for herself that she could just about buy out the Candelabra from under Thiago, who held many debts to the wrong people. But it was those debts exactly that Elendra wanted nothing to do with. She was going to open up her own shop elsewhere, or so she said.
Natanyl made sure to stay in contact so she'd let him know.
"Come in," a woman's voice called from the other side of the door. "The door's unlocked Nat."
He smiled and pushed his way inside, clicking it softly behind him. The room was softly lit, dim candles flickering in the far corners of the room. Candelabras, like the business' namesake, stood erect beside the four-poster bed on the far end, flared with gold candles and a woman appeared out from behind the partition next to it.
"Hello, darling," she greeted Natanyl.
He took another sip of the brandy, feeling the faint burn, but again, mostly just tasting water. "How are you, dear?"
"Oh much better now that you're here," she murmured. "Well don't just stand there. Come over."
She was draped in a flowy white gown that clung to her every curve. She didn't have to tell him twice. Natanyl closed the distance between them and felt her arms sweep around his shoulders. He grinned, leaning down to kiss her, slipping his arms around her waist. But when his lips made contact with hers he paused, pulling away after a few seconds.
"Wait...you don't kiss like Elendra," he said, pulling his face away, staring at what was supposed to be a familiar friend.
The middle-aged Adelan wasn't in the mood for nonsense. Thankfully, neither was Natanyl. He leaned his thick sausage hands on the counter and pursed his lips at the dark elf. "What is it this time, Ashboy?"
"The brandy is watered down again," Nataynl explained. "Taste it! I paid for alcohol, not water."
Thiago snatched Nat's glass and downed the whole shot. "Hmph! Tastes fine to me. Must be something wrong with your tongue."
Natanyl glared at him while Thiago poured him another. "You know there's a reason everyone goes to the Randy Peach, you old bastard. I tell you the day Elendra and the girls close their legs, this whole place is going under. Mark my words." It was almost like a curse and Natanyl snatched his glass away from the old man, marching up the stairs.
Although no one in this establishment was as old as he was, he was sure of it. The Gold Candelabra wasn't exactly rife with excitement. But it was a quieter brothel than the Peach and it was just what he needed to get away from the long, hard road.
There were few carriages these days, not exactly an upturn in business prospects for a highway robber such as he. Natanyl would have to get more creative if he didn't want to starve to death. He was hungry for a decent night's rest, a warm meal, and a hot bed. It'd been ages since he allowed himself to stay in one place for long. And he seemed to be coming back to Ketra.
He rapped his knuckles across the door to Elendra's room. She was an old friend that was one of those 'keep 'em coming back for more' types. She did well enough for herself that she could just about buy out the Candelabra from under Thiago, who held many debts to the wrong people. But it was those debts exactly that Elendra wanted nothing to do with. She was going to open up her own shop elsewhere, or so she said.
Natanyl made sure to stay in contact so she'd let him know.
"Come in," a woman's voice called from the other side of the door. "The door's unlocked Nat."
He smiled and pushed his way inside, clicking it softly behind him. The room was softly lit, dim candles flickering in the far corners of the room. Candelabras, like the business' namesake, stood erect beside the four-poster bed on the far end, flared with gold candles and a woman appeared out from behind the partition next to it.
"Hello, darling," she greeted Natanyl.
He took another sip of the brandy, feeling the faint burn, but again, mostly just tasting water. "How are you, dear?"
"Oh much better now that you're here," she murmured. "Well don't just stand there. Come over."
She was draped in a flowy white gown that clung to her every curve. She didn't have to tell him twice. Natanyl closed the distance between them and felt her arms sweep around his shoulders. He grinned, leaning down to kiss her, slipping his arms around her waist. But when his lips made contact with hers he paused, pulling away after a few seconds.
"Wait...you don't kiss like Elendra," he said, pulling his face away, staring at what was supposed to be a familiar friend.