Broken Sword Tavern
A hole in the wall located in one of the outskirts of the Spaceport, the Broken Sword is a place where you can stay out of sight and grab a drink at the same time. Provided you can find it. Many of the patrons are criminals, bounty hunters, and those looking to avoid being found. The raucous group swells as the day goes on, imbibing in the local brews and the much loved illegal imports that the bar offers, and the somewhat questionable food that is made in the back. Reveling in each others company while they enjoy the knowledge that they won't be caught this day.
The OutskirtsMustering enough bravery and foolishness to enter the run down neighborhood the Broken Sword is located in, and either being strong enough to ward off those lurking in the shadows, or sneaky enough to avoid them, is only the first step to finding the elusive tavern. Leaving the relative safety of the main road, you'll have to navigate the labyrinth of alleyways and crumbling tunnels that make up the outskirts of the Spaceport's city. Deep inside the maze is a narrow opening, easily passed if one isn't looking hard enough. Slip through and you'll find yourself in a hidden thorough-way that stretches impossibly far before curving out of sight. The other end boasts only a small stone archway, it's wooden door half rotted away and hanging off it's hinges, and a small square courtyard on the other side.
The CourtyardRinged by doors and dirt covered windows blocked by heavy shades that look like they haven't been opened in years, the courtyard is a quiet and forlorn place. Empty, except for the short gnarled tree barely clinging to life in the center, with grass and weeds growing between the uneven cobblestones that jut out of the ground, large sections of stone missing entirely. The sun, hanging halfway in the sky, grazes the tops of the buildings and leaves the majority of the area in shadow. Directly across from the archway, in the far wall, is a stable that looks as if it were crammed in between two of the buildings as an afterthought. The stone and wood structure faded like the rest of the courtyard, yet on closer inspection has a sense of sturdiness to it, almost as if it were still in use. To the left of it on the adjacent wall, an overgrown wall about eight feet tall and ten feet long juts out, obscuring the corner from view and blending in with the rest of the scenery. Tucked behind the wall is an alcove, an old broken sword hanging from a metal bar over the dark opening the only indication you're in the right place. The single rusted chain still holding onto it looking like it could snap at any moment, the tip of the sword plunging down into an unsuspecting visitor. A thick and heavy door rests in the side of the alcove, and with a good shove it opens up into a long hallway.
The BarA sound proof door rests at the end of the hallway, stepping through it takes you from the dead quiet of the courtyard into the bustling roaring crowd of patrons. A long L-shaped bar takes up almost a fifth of the room, a vast array of bottles line the shelves on the wall behind it, along with cups of all sizes. A swinging door leads back into the kitchen and storage room, where the back up bottles of alcohol and mugs are kept. The rest of the main room is filled with tables, booths running along the sides, and a hearth set into the far right wall. Smaller tables, chairs, and stools ring the crackling fire, creating a space where those who like to tell stories and easily catch the eyes of the other patrons and captivate them. A ventilation system above the hearth pulls the smoke out of the room and disperses it out through the surrounding buildings, spreading it thin enough that it won't catch the eyes of unwelcome guests. Well loved by its owners, the Broken Sword has seen many repairs and updates over its long years of service, yet has managed to retain it's older interior style while also seamlessly integrating a more modern feel with every new addition. The worn down appliances and countertops boast their everyday use, the loving care they're polished with maintaining their luster for years to come. On the second floor is a handful of rooms the the owners rent out to travelers in need of a bed for a night or two, and on occasion those too inebriated to get themselves home at the end of the day. Small and cramped with little furniture, the rooms are a far cry from luxury, but it'll get you through the winter nights better than the streets.
The OwnersThe owners are gruff and standoffish, however they're always willing to share a drink or two with a regular when they have the time. More often than not grumbling about the younger generation, or how annoying the IGC has become under the command of the current Commandant. Trading information and updating each other in their day to day lives. Entrepreneurs of information, there's almost nothing they aren't willing to share. For the right price.
Pointing their customers in the right direction, giving a bit of advice, or sometimes just a kick in the ass when necessary. However some secrets are meant to be carried to the grave, and the owners fully intend to bare the weight of those secrets until the day they're committed to the earth. Many rumors have spread themselves among the patrons, whispers about their pasts and what exactly they did to earn their bounties, or what their bounties even are. Wild stories are passed around, each one more outlandish then the last, explaining their scars and how the tavern came to be. Though none of them have been confirmed, any attempts to do so have all ended in crippling glares from the older couple.