Monday, June 4, 2012

Day Two-Twenty-One: Welcome to Bottomless

Another weekend squared away, and when I woke up this morning I was not, as predicted, in my own bed! Nope, we're still camped outside of Bottomless, city of merchants, about a billion miles away from home. Time for a new adventure!

I kinda glossed over our arrival last week, what with the fistfight between kin 'n all, so I'll address the city now. Bottomless is the biggest place I've seen so far, bigger even than Goblinoster: it's a giant cluster of neighbourhoods, packed together around two huge avenues that stretch from one side of the city to the other. Most of the buildings are made of wood, though you occasionally come across the more successful merchants who can afford big stone outlets.

In short, it's a massive version of our residential bailey back home. Not TERRIBLY remarkable, I guess, but the scope is worth notin'.

Once you get inside, the diversity of the place is obvious. People 'n races of every creed 'n culture wander among hundreds of shops and homes, swapping stories and plying their wares all day long. There're some peacekeepers mixed into the bunch to maintain order, but from what I've seen so far they don't haveta do much - petty thieves are the only big problem in Bottomless, 'n not much else.

(Doesn't mean it's got a small security force, of course. I've heard the merchant guild that runs this city has a biiiiiig army, stashed away 'n ready to deal with invaders. Good on them.)

You might wonder, diary, why the place is called Bottomless. I did, too, until I asked one of the merchants travellin' with us:

"The money never stops here," he said. "Them vendors in there, they'll buy every bit of product you own, bar none. Hell, last time I was here, I sold a pair o' old socks to a little girl sellin' lemonade, 'long with three sets of armour and a buncha bawdy artwork. She bought the lot, no muss about it. And her lemonade only costs ten copper a cup! Gods knows where she gets all that cash. Or why she'd want bawdy artwork."

I… guess that explains it. The merchants never run outta money. And, from what I hear, they never leave their posts. If a dude owns a store, he's there all the time. Don't they have to use the washroom every now and then? Or are the rumours true, and they have nothing below the waist from which to pee and/or poo? I will have to investigate this some day.

Maybe not TOO closely, mind. I don't need too much pee and poo in my life.

Anyway. As one of Evangelina's escorts… kinda… I had to go with her and the rest of her men into the depths of the city, leavin' the rest of the caravan behind. She led us to the guild headquarters, a huge fortress complex (shaped like a dollar sign, of course) at the intersection of the two major avenues, and she signed herself in as the ambassador for Castle Bonvoyage.

(Though it probably has a new name by now. Castle BallnChainisGone, maybe? Ha haaaaa, I totally just denigrated my queen. Go ME.)

Once she was all squared away, Evangelina took us to the conference room where she'd be meeting the ambassadors for the trade mission she's negotiating. I recognized a couple of 'em from our… uh… unhappy meeting the week before, when I dumped octopus on their heads, though there were also a bunch I didn't recognize. Most of 'em old men, and most surprisingly scruffy-lookin'. Tattoos and worn clothes and the like. They don't look too ambassadorial, but meh. I have NO idea where they come from, 'n I don't much care, either.

Evangelina's staying somewhere in town, in one of the inns, and she ordered the rest of us guards to do the same. 'cept me. She told me to go back to the caravan and stay with the queen. When I asked why, she ignored me and wandered off with her little entourage. What a jerk. Guess it runs in the relationship.


'cause Driscol's a jerk.

Is there a dating equivalent to heredity stuff? Like, if you're going out with someone, does that mean they rub off on you like, say, hair colour rubs off on kids? I'm sure there's science packed into this somewhere.

After I'd been ditched by EVERYBODY else, I wandered back to the eastern entrance of Bottomless by the main avenue, making sure not to stray onto the side streets. Don't wanna get lost and have somebody pick my pocket, or somethin'. I brought my savings with me, and I'd just as soon SPEND it rather than donate it to the locals.

And I did spend it. A little. Bought me an ice cream. Tiger Tail. Gotta say, meat chunks don’t taste that good with cream.

I'm back with Libby, now. (She's looking much better today, by the way.) We're gonna splurge and find a place to stay in town, despite what Evangelina said, and I'll go meet her royal pain-in-the-ass-ness tomorrow. I'm gonna try and coax Eve into staying WITH us, buuuuut I doubt that'll happen.

Eeee! I get to explore somewhere NEW! This isn't NEARLY as frightening as that stupid trip to Goblinoster. Which probably means something bad is going to happen and I just can't see it yet, but until that happens, eeee!


Dragomir the Tourist


  1. Oh screw you, Bird.

    Way to remind me that NOBODY sells Tiger Tail anymore. It's literally the most orgasmic of dairy products, yet you have to climb the highest mountains and spelunk the deepest caves to find someone willing to put it on a cone for you.

    They sell these little bitty containers of it at my grocery store for ridiculous prices. And it's not even good ice cream.

    1. Would it be blasphemous for me to admit that I don't actually like Tiger Tail?