The Sailors Mast

Although he hadn't been in Greyhawk for very long, Epilo'josia knew the sound of giggling was unusual. Adult giggling, in the daylight, heard in the middle of the street was even more provocative, he came to realize, and he let his ears guide him. Before long it was his eyes that brought him closer to the source of the noise, as a handful of whores stood outside a manor-house and called to the passers-by.

"If you're a sailor, show me your mast!" one called out, to a trio of merchant-men who strode by on The Strip. Indeed, the trio turned toward the manor; the women giggled and flashed bare legs at the men, whose footsteps came a little quicker.

Epilo noted the sign above the doorway to the building read, 'The Sailor's Mast,' and included an illustration of a boatsman lying on his back and sporting a flesh-colored mast from his groin. One of the ladies noticed him.

"What about you, woodsie?" she said, taking a few steps forward and dropping the shawl from her bare shoulders. "Got a big quarter staff ta show me? What's the matter, been a while since you's used yer weapon?"<blue>

The woman took another step forward, and Epilo realized he'd stopped completely. Another harlot joined the first, and they each reached out for an arm. <blue>"First time in Greyhawk?" the new one asked. "'Cause, we do somethin' special fer the first-timers." His feet were moving forward, as if he had no control over them at all.

The manor doors opened to admit the trio of merchants; inside there were small braziers behind panels of dyed sheer fabrics, creating a mixture of colors and shady spaces. The harlots inside were clad in almost nothing, and they eagerly took the three sailors in before closing the doors again, leaving the original group of women on the stoop to bark up business.

Soft breasts were pushed against his arm. "Here's a secret," a silky voice whispered, close to his ear. Her perfume was intoxicating. Her hair tickled his face. "You can get good fer a single gold, but what you wants is the Manor Special. Two golds it is, an' worth every copper of it. You'll do things you ain't even thought of yet. A life memory, is what we calls it." She sniffled, loudly and most unattractively. A hand touched his thigh, near to where his belt pouch rode.

"But I have no gold," Epilo lied, in a weak voice, intentionally slowing his pace. "I'm here to find work and earn-"

His sentence went unfinished as he was shoved aside. "Piss on yourself, then. Get on!" the harlot spat, shoving him again, this time toward the road. "A waste 'a my time an' good works. Get back ta th' woods an' stick it in a squirrel." The other whores gathered at the door laughed and urged him to move on in an unkind manner.

"Come back when you get some money," came a voice from an upstairs window. A familiar voice. The flirty one from the caravan, Epilo recognized. She waved at him, and he found himself waving back. With enthusiasm.

He turned his back to the manor and walked slowly toward The Strip. The druid reached for the symbol of Elhonna that hung at his neck at all times.

River Quarter