Stinkin' Airts Building / Landmark in Toy Soldier Saga | World Anvil
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Stinkin' Airts

There was one seedy inn she found rather comforting that was away from the docks and closer to the fancier parts of the city. As she walked into the smoky and dimly lit Stinkin' Airts, that knife-edge awareness and trickster thinking of her true rogue self returned. And it felt ... good.
— Dazzle Kat after an eventful voyage

Tucked Away

On Caer'thun there is the port city of Symmerin with a little alley in the Merchant Square.
by Tama66
In a corner of this alley is the almost respectable seedy tavern called the Stinkin' Airts.
The doors swung open and Evik Glitterleaf stepped in. It had taken him five days to find the time to cast for his lost watch. His eyes blinked against the smoke before locking onto his timepiece on the table before Dazz. His pointed ears twitched. Squaring his shoulders, he strode on over.   "I do believe you have something of mine," he said once he stood across the table from her.   "Dearest Evik, be a good boy and be on time," Dazz said, repeating the inscription on the watch. She looked up at him with a small smile and raised a brow. "Are you often a bad boy, Evik?"   His bright gold-tinged skin took on a ruby glow. She waved for him to sit at the seat across from her. His lips pursed into a firm line, but he sat down.   "You have very slow magic, dearest Evik," Dazz continued. "Five days to find your precious timepiece?"   "This was the earliest I could get away from my studies." He huffed. "Since you were ... kind enough not to sell it, would you please give it back?"
  It is here the boldest and more experienced of the magical students from the Symmerin University go when they are looking for more ... excitement. Confident in their magic, they often rub elbows with cleaned-up ne'er-do-wells of all sorts. Things can often go awry for these students.   More than magic students visit the tavern. It is here where discreet contacts can be made with the less law-abiding sorts. For a price, private dealings can be conducted in one of the two backrooms.  


Before the Stinkin' Airts was ever a tavern, it had been Weelmil Watches.   Weelmil Spindlemeister was a clever gnome who fancied herself a master of clockworks.   She made a living making fancy pocket watches, but her heart was into the crafting of a greater purpose for clockworks.   For three hundred years she worked on her masterpiece in between making watches to support her endeavor.
Her masterpiece was a gnome-sized clockwork servant. Try as she might, she could not find a way to make it function for any length of time to be as useful as she dreamed. Then, one fateful day while she was browsing the racks of ingots at the foundry, there was a terrible accident. One of the racks somehow broke and a ton of ingots fell on Weelmil, crushing her to death.
Fortunately, Weelmil had had the foresight to will her shop to a distant cousin three times removed, Walkyck Spindlemeister. When Walkyck arrived at the shop, there were no signs of her great masterpiece and any of her notes. It is a mystery that has remained unsolved and forgotten, for the last one hundred fifty years.


Walkyck Spindlemeister is not a crafting gnome, but he is certainly crafty.   He spent his vigorous years as a master burglar, carrying out heists that, even now, have remained unsolved.   He turned the shop into the Stinkin' Airts, a tavern catering to the thirsty who shop the Merchant Square and run by hired barkeeps.   Having decided to retire fifty years ago, he goes by the name of Iovin Torchbrew and spends his days at the Stinking' Airts with his deadly wife, Thornve Vinter.   The couple is seen as beloved wealthy patrons of the tavern, a deception they amuse themselves keeping up.
  Pretending to be the owner while secretly merely the manager, is an older human named John Short, who, unlike his name, is far from short.   Ten years ago, John Short was a privateer captain.   He gave up his ship during a mutiny when he was forced to make a bitter choice: leave with his life or die.   Iovin offered him the position to spend his retirement running the Stinkin Airts, and he took it.   He spends most of his days at his favorite table in the taproom chatting with Iovin and Thornve when he is not seeing to things.
John insists the patrons of the Stinkin' Airts look presentable, and he will toss out anyone who comes in looking scruffy, unkempt, or lacking in civility. He is not averse to gambling, underhanded dealings, or the making of illicit contacts within the Stinkin' Airts but they must be tastefully conducted.   Those who request the use of a backroom do so knowing that their business will indeed stay private. The prices in the Stinkin' Airts are at the higher end of low, and customers can expect to get the quality they pay for. For an added price, finer drinks served with fresh fruits, cheeses, flavored biscuits, and cold cuts can be had in the backrooms.
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Pub / Tavern / Restaurant

Weelmil's Masterpiece


What Happened At Weelmil Watches

  Weelmil browsed the Foundry's lastest stock of ingots, looking for that something special. As she was inspecting a new batch of brass, the shelves above suddenly gave way. A ton of ingots came crashing down, filling the aisle. With nowhere to escape them, Weelmil was crushed to death. But her dedication to her masterpiece was so determined, her soul could not let it go.   She awoke feeling nothing and ... she was standing? She looked around with eyes that saw things in shades of ... blue? Blinking, she shook her head. Why didn't her eyes blink? She rubbed her eyes then gasped when there was a metallic clink. Her gasp sounded ... tinny.   Weelmil stared at her hands. They were metal and familiar. Very familiar. She had spent a month making each one for her masterpiece. Suddenly, there was a rush of terror and remembered agony before everything had gone dark. Oh no! The accident at the foundry! But ... she was here now. How ...?   She stared down at her body. It was her masterpiece! Somehow she was inside it ... and it was moving! But ... did this mean she was dead?   I have to be dead, she thought with a shudder. That much metal, of course it killed me!   Her mind whirled and her metal body went very still. Then, a spark of hope grew and started to fill her with joy. She was alive ... sort of! She could continue her work! Not here, though, but, somewhere. Filled with a new purpose, Weelmil began to gather her precious notes.   I can't forget my coffer! she reminded herself. Oh, and oil! I won't need food but all this metal needs oil to stay fit.   Plans formed and were tossed away in her mind as she worked. She could not go to her family or friends. Who would believe it was really her? She would need to start over, beginning with a new name. Suddenly, she smiled ... but only on the inside.   Calamine will do just fine. Oh, and I will need clothes ... a disguise to hide all this lovely workmanship.   Her mind happily whirling with plans for her future, Calamine left Weelmil Watches forever.  

Calamine's Disguise

Cover image: by noupload


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