Rainoga

Once a disreputable haunt for dockworkers and petty criminals, Jopalin’s has undergone a remarkable transformation under the stewardship of its namesake proprietor. Jopalin, a shrewd and charismatic half-elf with ties to the city’s underbelly, inherited the rundown tavern from his father but chose to steer it in a new direction. Now an elegant teahouse nestled amid the rough sprawl of Baldur’s Gate’s Lower City docks, it offers refined teas, delicate sweets, and quiet alcoves perfect for whispered conversations. While its clientele includes merchant princes, Harborhands, and even the occasional Flaming Fist officer, Jopalin’s past associations haven’t entirely vanished. Rumors persist that deals—some steeped in spice and others in shadow—still pass over porcelain cups. But none can resist the lure of Jopalin’s signature blend, a heady brew rumored to contain more than just herbs.

Set against the soot-stained stone and brine-slick alleys of the harbor, Jopalin’s stands out like a polished gem among rusted chains. Its broad arched windows glow with amber light, casting a welcoming warmth onto the cobblestones outside. The scent of steeped spices and exotic blossoms wafts from the open doors, cutting through the usual stench of fish and salt. Inside, the air is hushed and perfumed, with lacquered wood panels, silk drapes in burgundy and gold, and low tables arranged for privacy. Fine porcelain clinks softly, accompanied by the rustle of robes and murmured conversations. A burly half-orc bouncer eyes patrons from the shadows, but Jopalin—slim, sharp-eyed, and always impeccably dressed—glides through the room with easy grace, ensuring every cup is full and every secret safe.