Wriggling their way throughout the south side of Bath, the alleyways and backstreets form natural bazaars; meeting places for the residents, boardrooms for the criminally minded, brothels for the inexperienced, hunting grounds for the predators. Allowing members of the lower classes to flit from area to area without crossing a main street, these hidden passages are often roofed with clotheslines and barricaded with wagons and carts. Some of the braver or more intimidating traders store their goods, others use their access as trash disposal. Urchins pick their way through the grime, looking for shiny pennies and rags for the wickmen who produce the cheap tallows for the stuttering gaslights of the slums.
by George Williamson » Thu May 26, 2016 2:54 pm
"Doorrrian?"
Maybe he was a cat. No, he'd use that one later incase he had to go north of the river. North! Oh, where was that little place Dorian took him too one time...
OC: Alex Redford
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by Storyteller » Thu May 26, 2016 4:00 pm
You recall that it was a leisure house or restaurant of a sort, not dissimilar from a Gentleman's Club and situated in the north: in Toreador territory.
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