Trailman's Taphouse | The Sparrows' "Acquisitions"
You ain’t certain how ya heard 'bout us. No, really.
You ain’t certain. You ain’t heard nothin' 'bout us at all.
Good. Let's get this over with.
This world is full 'a chaos. I really gotta tell ya that?
Sorry suckers ‘cross Tyria are realizin' the councils,
queens, ‘n moots are too busy with the big problems.
Most 'a those sorry suckers’ve been bleedin' the
rest of us dry—bandits and the like. The Mantle.
I’ll tell ya a secret. I’m good at 'em, like that.
Those arses're realizin' somethin’ the poor suckers ain’t
ever gonna find out: you want somethin’ in this world,
it’s your job to take it.
You want coin? Go get it, however ya can.
You want safety? Survival? Time t'fight for it.
We’ve been left behind—the ‘Guard’s grown thin,
the Pact’s leavin’ the bloody continent. Don’t even
mention the Seraph.
So here we are havin’ to do somethin’ 'bout it. No
one’s stickin' up for the alleys or the hamlets.
No one’s stickin’ up for the sorry suckers who still
think followin' society's gonna help 'em out.
So we come in.
We’re businessmen, simple as that. No one’ll know
our names and no one’ll know we work together,
‘cause our line ‘a business ain’t appreciated by
the 'man.' If y’know which 'man' I’m
talkin’ about, then keep on listenin’.
Spoiler: Music (is required, yo)Show
As the days of 1331AE darken, a not-so-unassuming group returns to
Ebonhawke with deed in hand and charter in mind. The "Trailman’s Taphouse" is opened in
a dirty part of a dirty city: with even more dirt behind closed doors. Who says dirt’s gotta be bad
for the remnants of Ascalon? What if the dirt helped more folk than it hurt?
The Trailmen operate independent of the Taphouse they upkeep. They watch the fields, scout
the forests, and trail the roads. Y'know, for business opportunities... sometimes for those that need
'em more than the Taphouse does.
The Sparrows operate behind the Trailmen. The whole Taphouse exists so no one
catches a Sparrow in their hands. The Sparrows are the smallfolk who decided you don’t gotta
be big to do good. They’re the outcasts who know just ‘cause one person calls it bad,
don’t mean it ain’t good for all the rest. They ain’t separatists or rebels. Nobody's gonna know
their names or their cause. The “nobodies” of the world are why they're doin’ this. It's more
selfish than it sounds, but y'know how this works.
Business is business, even if it's fake. The Trailmen may trail the fields or run the
Taphouse, but it’s up to the Sparrows to keep 'em all funded, fed, and functionin’ with the real
goods. Crate runnin’, tonic mixin’, blackmail dealin’, you name it. They ain’t criminals—they’re
at the cloud-fiddlin’ manors... not yet, 'least.
So now ya know way more than ya should. Guess it’s up to you to leave your safe, little
bubble in the city. Here's a hint: bubbles ain’t helpin' anywhere but your own mind. So you’ve
heard 'a the Taphouse, and you’d better already heard 'a the ‘Hawkes—now good luck gettin'
here without signing your cover away for some A-Gate papers. The Rats are in on it, I'm
tellin' ya. 'Bout time to be "in on" somethin’ of our own, yeah?
You wanna survive as a nobody in this world, 'n help other nobodies do the same? The
Taphouse is waitin' for ya, babe. Bring somethin’ useful—best be your wits.