Almost two centuries have passed since the mysterious tragedy of the Poseidon's Fury left its entire crew slaughtered without a trace of the assailant. Only a single shred of evidence remains - a cursed scroll clutched in the captain's severed hand...
As Chrysomallo and Mnesarete went down, they paid close attention to every detail to stay immersed in their roles. They could hear the noise from the main room getting louder with each step.
Laughter and conversation mixed with the sound of moving chairs and clinking tankards. Musicians in the corner played their instruments while the crackling fireplace provided a rhythmic background.
As they got closer, the smell of ale and tobacco became stronger, blending with the scents of roasted meats and fresh-baked bread coming from the kitchen. There was also a hint of sweat and sea salt in the air, reflecting the diverse clientele.
The air became thicker and warmer as they descended the stairs, accompanied by a hazy fog of pipe smoke that teased their lungs. Lamplight shone through the cracks in the stairs, casting an orange glow on the rough walls.
Upon reaching the bottom, swinging lanterns created dancing shadows that played across the faces of those gathered. Mnesarete subtly adjusted her movements, imitating the manner of a sailor.
Finally, they stepped onto the wooden floor of the main room. The dim light reflected off polished tankards and weathered faces, creating a cosy atmosphere amidst the lively noise.
The warmth from the people in the room mixed with the smoke, completely surrounding Chrysomallo and Mnesarete. They were now fully prepared to immerse themselves in the tavern ambience.
The room was filled with sailors of all types - grumpy old sailors, young crew members, and weathered captains. Laughter and loud conversation echoed between the dimly lit beams.
In the background, the soft melody of a lyre drifted, playing a cheerful sailor's song. The musician sang sweetly, his voice weaving through the crowd. People tapped their feet and drummed their hands to keep the beat.
Smoke from pipes twisted and curled, carrying scents that reminded them of distant ports. Within its hazy embrace, one could catch a hint of spices from bustling markets and memories of tropical flowers from unknown islands.
But one melody caught Chrysomallo's attention. She recognised it, though it had been changed to a more scandalous version. It was the lament "Katolophuromai," which told the tragic story of Orestes. How strange that this song, known only in scholarly circles, had spread so widely among sailors
Mnesarete noticed her friend's surprise and leaned in, saying, "Even the works of the Muses find their way into people's conversations, whether they know where the words come from or not." Her smile showed that she found it amusing and understood their shared astonishment. Carefully, they joined back in with the lively rhythm of the common room.
Underneath it all, the strong smells of the place hung in the air - sizzling roasted meats, freshly baked bread, and the lingering smell of men who had spent time at sea. These earthy smells mixed with the faint traces of salt and the ocean on weathered skin.
In the background, faint sounds could be heard over the noise - the cries of seagulls flying outside and the calming sound of waves crashing against the rocky shore. The rhythm of the waves rose and fell in a familiar pattern, giving comfort to the sailors' spirits.
Lamps shone a light on shiny tankards and worn-out faces, covering the room in a flickering golden light. Throughout the space, stories were shared, bets were made, and memories of journeys beneath the ever-changing skies were brought back to life. In the middle of this bustling haven, Chrysomallo and Mnesarete entered, easily blending into the lively atmosphere of the sea-faring crowd.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
