#Finally got this story narrowed down to a short verion

[ask-typhon-blog]

A waving sign and a jazz singer

Or, how Typhon started working at the Rotten Rat.

The first day I came into the city was a bit of culture shock. After slipping out from under the ship I had caught a ride from, I started to swim under the piers and walkways through the murk. I had no plan, no heading, and quite honestly no clue as to if the people here spoke the same languages I did. I saw some of the crew on the ship, and they lacked the fins for proper inflection of merspeak, but there was one guy with a pair of flags that might have worked. Perhaps he was an interpreter? I did hear a lot of landwalker speak on the ship, and I remember being taught it as ‘common” for them, but many of the words and phrases passed over my head. How can you blow someone down when there is no wind? It made no sense.

My journey led me to an area where the lights in the boards above peeked through more often, and the water was more bitter, as if many things had died (this was indeed the case as I later discovered.) Waving through pilings, I happened upon a hand waving under the floor of a building, holding a sign. It read: “Help Wanted! Come Here Post-Haste!” I assumed someone was in trouble, and as such swam up to the hole and looked up, and was introduced to the first landwalker I ever met and colored my impression of them immediately. He was a dwarf of average stature, with his head shaven and beard to his belt, braided into three strands interwoven with some silvery metal I had never seen before. Upon seeing me, he promptly lifted me out of the water (no small feat, pun not intended) and told me I was hired.

“Pardon me, you said I was hired? For what? I thought you were asking for help!” I deviated back to Aquan, confused and admittedly somewhat frightened of this man who was shaking my hand, and thus me, rather vigorously.

“Ehh, what’s that you’re saying? Sorry, can’t understand a word you said, but the horoscope didn’t say anything about languages, only that my savior would come from the sea, be smelling of fish, and have green eyes. I just put the sign down there as a lark, seeing if it did any better than posting a normal notice, and here you are! Robert! Come meet the new bartender!” He carried me up the stairs and out of the cellar, to meet the man who would become against all odds my confidant and best friend. He was also passed out on the floor clutching a beer stein against his head like a narwhal. “Ehh, nevermind, he’ll be fine, never was the same after, well... anyway, welcome to the Rotten Rat! Just bought it last week from a lounge singer, goes by the name of Dean Ratman. Moved up to the merchant district you know!”

“Excuse me,” I interrupted, “But could I make a request that you let me down, and what’s this about a job?” At this point I had both regained a bit of composure, while simultaneously becoming further bewildered.

“Ehh, you speak common, marvelous!” He dropped me behind the bar before sweeping his hands across the room. “I got it for a great price, and in the best part of the dock district. Only one or two murders a month, wonderful location ehh? The pay is 5 gold a day. I know, its a bit more than the going rate, but it’ll be just you for a while. Here’s the key, Robert can fill you in on the details, he knows everything and everyone in this town. Shame he stays here now... Good luck! My horoscope says tomorrow will be a bright day with great opportunities, but only if I dance in a wheat-field tonight! Toodles!” And with a slap and a wave he was off. I looked at the sign: The Rotten Rat, Bar and Lounge. How wonderful. And thus, four hours into the city, I had a job with no clue how to do it, responsibilities not told to me, a new friend who was currently scratching his buttocks, and a key for a door while two windows were broken leading to the backstreet. I only had one option. I poured myself a drink.