<div class="floatright">(https://i.pinimg.com/736x/d7/02/e9/d702e959ba7267de915e379cb870b3a3--animation-photo-animation-background.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><strong>With Friends Like These</strong></span><br/><strong>Tagging: Oloven, Dahlya<br/>Location: Precinct Two: Outskirts of the Merchant Quarter</strong><br/><br/>Often called the “Black Row”, it was the work of minutes and a flight of stairs that separated the Orzhov duo from “friendly society”. There was no judgement amongst the vendors of Precinct Two, even those who had seen the direction they came from. At the end of the day, to a merchant the Orzhov’s reputation for the unsavory was less of a concern than their reputation for having coins to spend. Each shouted over the other, offering steeper discounts on their refreshments to lure them to the stools. Little did they realize the destination was already chosen by necessity.<br/><br/>There were only a few of stands that overlooked the brothels and only one had the permit to serve ale. A pudgy little goblin was behind the counter, clicking and clacking with every step. Hidden behind the canvas table dressing, it was only as they came to the counter itself that it became apparent he was shambling about on wee stilts to reach their height. He did so with practiced ease and spoke relatively clearly for a gobbie, betraying the fact he had been in polite society for sometime!<br/><br/>“You two look thirsty and hollow! One on his tab and yours on mine, miss! I’ll spot you a drink for every one your boyo has! Brown or red sandwich?” As far as street food went in Ravnica, meat and it’s origins could be a tender subject. The general consensus was that if it was hot and tasty, it didn’t really matter, did it? Brown was typically savory pork or mutton or something close while Red was usually reptile or fowl or rodent in a sauce so spicy it was hard to tell which... with a dwarven coleslaw of cucumbers, peppers, carrots and soft cheese.<br/><br/>Regardless of where they landed, the ale was cold and proper bitter and like the other businesses the brothels had begun showcasing their wares early today. Holiday hours were a beautiful thing apparently as they were treated to free dinner theater across the street, an elven contortionist assuming all manner of positions, suggesting much while saying little.<br/><br/><div class="floatleft">(http://pre01.deviantart.net/fa1c/th/pre/f/2008/333/4/1/41aab8cd00fc430af076974236a9e06b.jpg)</div>The sound of a jaunty ragtime being played inside could be heard faintly. It was a shame the night had been designated a “working holiday”. The afternoon sun was warm while the air was crisp and fresh and thanks to the diligence of the merchants in preparing for the evening, it smelled considerably less like a sewer! It put a spring in everyone’s step, even the giant doorman of the brothel had only half a scowl while he scrubbed at graffiti on the second floor window.<br/><br/>What was left of the black symbol looked vaguely like a little bottle. Or maybe a mushroom. Or perhaps... an apple? It was hard to say exactly what it was given that the giant had been scrubbing at it for a few minutes before they arrived. Also given that neither one of them was likely paying close attention to the monster doing janitorial work while an elf girl was suckling on her own toes. Why is the narrator wasting time on the graffiti in this scene when she’s just introduced an elf girl that can literally kiss her own ass?<br/><br/>(Please roll a perception and athletics or acrobatics check, which ever is higher)