The Scarlet Knuckle

There is a foulness most establishments can only dream to attain, a richness of character that stains the most seasoned walls and brings to mind the worst representations of the lower strata of society. Depending on your point of view, Scarlet Knuckle is all the worst and all the best in quality for a proper tavern in the Admiral's Fen. Past the heavy, oaken doors of the 2-story establishment, the miasma of smells and filth can be overwhelming for those not from the area. But then again, the stench of the swamp is waiting just outside like a drunk collapsed on your doorstep in a puddle of his own vomit. Scattered amongst the round tables of the common room, the denizens are dock workers, most coming off a day-lighter and ready to drink or gamble their wages in one of the more notorious taverns in Admiral's Fen.

There are dice games, assorted card games ranging from Rook to a clutch of older men in a corner table with a Harrow deck for an ancient game of Towers. 

Amid the stink and the drink and the laughter and the curses there is no shortage of weaponry. Short-swords hang openly along with cudgels and daggers, a rusty cutlass or two on the hips of bravados, over in the corner a crossbow leans against one table where three men and a Halfling play a game of cards. Even the five serving girls carry knives with the history among them for taking a finger or two from those men unwilling to guard themselves from straying. So being unprepared for a fight is frowned upon.

The proprietor is a particularly foul-tempered dwarf, his hair and beard the deep colors of flame to match. Those outside his hearing call him Outhouse, not for the unfortunate face Torag had forged at his anvil, but for the rancid odors wafting from his curse-ridden mouth. His given name is Rivens Cogsetter and his best friend is the heavy Ash, iron-banded cudgel at his hip he calls Bruiser. That weapon receives all the affection the surly tavern owner can manage to squeeze out of his blackened heart. All his other emotions dwell within the till behind the bar. It’s not in the black, he makes sure there’s red on the floor.

Anything strike your fancy?  Well, if you survive the night, maybe we can talk business.