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Post by Bayushi Katsuro on Feb 10, 2014 15:12:38 GMT
Bayushi Katsuro descended the gangplank of the ship onto the docks of Broken Wave City. Following the unfortunate accident that befell Ikoma Katanubo, his masters had deemed it prudent to withdraw Katsuro and send him somewhere far away; and there were few postings more remote than this distant shore.
"Carefully," Katsuro admonished his manservant, who carried a huge bundle of his baggage, causing the gangplank to sway as he traversed it. The Scorpion diplomat turned back to the docks, where a crowd of young beggar boys cried out extolling the virtues of this inn or that inn, this teahouse or that, if only the honored master would follow him! He spent a moment trying to gauge which of these ragged urchins was least untrustworthy, before giving up on this idea and simply choosing the one that was least dirty. "You, boy!" the Scorpion commanded.
The boy began bowing and scraping. "This way, kind master!" he said eagerly, as the rest of the beggars dispersed with disappointed expressions. The Scorpion and his servant made to follow the boy into the hospitality district of Broken Wave City.
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Post by Bayushi Katsuro on Feb 11, 2014 15:54:59 GMT
The House of Silk Flowers proved to be an adequate-enough looking inn--prosperous enough, but not so luxurious as to be too ostentatious. Katsuro tossed a couple of zeni to the boy who had led him there, and the urchin bowed twice before running off with the coins. The Scorpion stepped inside.
"Irasshaimase," greeted the aproned woman tending the front.
"A room and a hot bath," Katsuro ordered, before removing his footwear. His manservant followed him in, carrying his heavy burden.
"Yes, at once!" the innkeeper said, bowing. She clapped her hands and servants of the inn hurried to carry out these orders. "Would you care for some tea while your room is prepared, samurai-sama?"
Nodding, Katsuro produced a cup and allowed the innkeeper to fill it with tea. Taking a seat, he sipped slowly and scanned the front room, studying the other patrons. Business seemed slow at this hour; a few Crane merchants eating soup, an old Mantis sailor, but nothing out of the ordinary. Yet.
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