The Drowned Hag

 The following is a dissertation of sorts as written by Mochrie Collach (who is inexperienced with this particular subject matter but was instructed to write a report on it nonetheless).

 The bath houses of Faline are both numerous and well-loved by many; some may argue that these places are a dime-a-dozen, but there are a number of which I am told stand out above the rest. Of all these seemingly renowned locations, it is the Drowned Hag that garners the most praise and attention (from what I have seen and heard, despite its godawful name). 

 The Drowned Hag sits just aside the center of Faline, in a busy enough area that there is plenty of foot traffic, and thus new customers, but far enough away from the heart of it all that there is at least the most vague of attempts to create a calming air within the bath house itself. It is near enough to the sea that even climbing up the Hag’s steps, the air often smells of seaweed, and other equally pleasant, oceanic things. The street before it is crooked and narrow, with a collection of luxurious shops sitting just across the way, including that of a lucky vintner whose pockets may very well be as fat as he is.

 The Hag’s exterior is marble, as are its walls— black marble, to be more explicit, with silver veining, and the occasional sea-green accent here or there, sometimes copper or bronze. The ceiling is flat, but broken with domed windows here or there, through which the sun can filter in, resulting in areas of focused heat within the building. The floor is soapstone, which retains said heat to keep the customers’ feet from freezing, and conveniently looks exactly like black marble, so the common man could never tell the difference (myself included; I just asked). Potted plants adorn the odd corner or two, sometimes rather planted in hanging fixtures made of glass; light for the bath house is trapped in magical lanterns that burn out or ignite by a single touch.

 The pools themselves are admittedly stunning in the black stone, and the material they are lined with varies from pool to pool based on the desired temperature. The Hag has its own workings, mechanical or magical, to ensure that hot water is available at any time and in any amount (as it is in most of Faline anyways, but I’ve been assured the Hag’s methods of procuring it are much, much more special). Pools vary in size, heat, and build to provide ideal bathing experiences; some have built-in fountain features, others have eternally-bubbling water, and some are simply pools. The back of the bath house includes both public and private saunas, as well as a wonderfully musky smoking parlor for the interested.

 Food and drink are served at the Drowned Hag, brought out from below by waiters in (what I would consider atypical) uniform; the meals are often placed atop platters that are buoyed underneath, providing a floating surface off which to eat and drink. Of course, this only occurs in certain, designated pools, as many people dislike the idea of breadcrumbs or a loose piece of cheese joining them in their bath.

 The clientele are the most interesting aspect of the Drowned Hag, and by far. There is a significant amount of scrutiny from the local guard at the Hag, as much as there is corruption within them; the city’s protectors seem to be at eternal odds with themselves on whether or not the Hag is safe or scheming. As far as I have seen, every suspicious guard who has entered has left with only the best of perspectives, which of course must mean that the Drowned Hag is veritably safe and should not be investigated any further, now or ever.

 Historically, the Drowned Hag has been a source of privacy and anonymity for only the most devious of Faline’s upper class; it was often a chosen location to trade information, make deals, supply goods, plan events, or offer bribes. Harun the Lionsclaw, the infamous duke of Faline himself from ages past, was a regular visitor of the Drowned Hag, and it is said that it was there that he confirmed the assassination of his father the archduke in the year 1015; it was in the Hag’s very halls that the coin traded hands from noble to executioner. It was in the Hag as well that the Emerald Envoy was first formed, all of its members present, before they eventually began their campaign to infiltrate Namarast and overthrow the Order in the year 993— which, quite evidently, did not work, as breaching Namarast is nigh impossible, and the Order still stands, of which we are all very much aware. (It’s a shame; it would have been interesting had the Emerald Envoy succeeded. I would have lots more to write about.)

 Nowadays the Drowned Hag is a breeding ground for gossip, secrets, rivalries, alliances, and other less savory (or particularly savory) and more elusive topics (oftentimes with the wait staff). Coin is needed to take part in the Hag’s activities, which does, in fact, include bathing; I myself did not elect to participate, as I, unlike the Hag’s current customers, need the coin to live, and, were I able to afford it, would not be particularly inclined to enter the pools, considering my nature (which you are very well aware of, and thus cannot dock my grade for not engaging, as you have been my professor for a majority of my years at this college, and hopefully know what I look like by now; also, I would have gone bankrupt). The simplicity in keeping the cost so high ensures that the scum of the earth like myself— the common man, the critical consumer— should be kept out. It seems as though the Hag’s employees do not expect academics to wander into their halls and start asking questions, as that’s usually work of the city guard, not spindly cripples; additionally, there is no hypothetical moral code for a non-guard to follow, meaning that an enticing coinpurse would have much less weight in the hands of a commoner, and that its purpose may not ever be fulfilled.

 In sum, the Drowned Hag is a handsome place, a stunning exhibit that every visitor of Faline worth more in coin than ten hardworking men combined should absolutely visit; if only the standards of the rest of the city were more like the Drowned Hag’s, Faline would be a much better place.