Ox Dwarves

Tenebrae - Thursday, September 01, 2016, 8:57 PM

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* A05: Ox-Strength Tavern *>--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

The Ox-Strength Ale Tavern is known for being one of the most dangerous dives in the city. Frequented by the worst sailors, mercenaries, thugs and looters, the place is hardly the prettiest nor the tidiest of taverns, though--of late, that has been changing. Locals claim the once foul-tasting food "No longer burns the stomach--as much, anyways." Plates show signs of repair instead of cracks, though the still infamous odor of old beer and stale sweat insists on hanging about the place, and the smell of brine is near-constant.

What used to be bricked-up windows have been somewhat opened. Heavy bars let in a reluctant breeze and prevent the clanging of heads against glass (which seems nearly afraid to exist). Bloodstains adorn both the nearby walls and the bricks themselves from thrown patrons and fists.

The lights are dim, a few oil lamps hung from hooks in the splintered ceiling beams. A smattering of tables, scratched and carved into by many a blade, dot the expanse of the floor. Most of the tables are arranged in a wide circle to give plenty of room in the center of the bar for hasty escapes or the routine bar-brawl or fight. A worn-out steam piped stove sometimes provides warmth to the tavern. Occasionally an aging dog of some mangy breed or another can be seen sleeping near the stove or by the bar itself. Overhead the fireplace is a tribute to Rada, the patron of fishermen and rivermen everywhere.

Towards one side, there is also a bedraggled dart board. Type +view here/darts to begin a game.

Yelrona isn't exactly sure what's going on, but she's become accustomed to that since arriving in Alexandros. Whatever it is, apparently it doesn't involve summoned lions or invisible stalkers, so that's something. She steps out from behind the tree, juggling a collection of colored silks. "Well, that's the best introduction *I've* ever received! Thanks, Fahzie, your gold is in the mail." She hops lightly onto a chair, makes a whole involved prat-fallish production out of losing her balance, lands on the table and bounces off of it...

GAME: Yelrona rolls acrobatics: (7)+11: 18

GAME: Yelrona rolls perform/comedy: (1)+6: 7 (EPIC FAIL)

...and lands on her feet, gracefully, but not actually in the least bit funny.

For the most part, people are starting to move back to business as usual. Where business as usual is not-fighting, with discontent mumblings echoing through the tavern.

Jokul just stares in blank silence, continuing to stare with an equal blankness back at both Fazahd and Sandy in that same frozen-still position of pinning down someone with a fist in the air.

And then he drops the fist down into the other guy's face. And rolls his shoulders in a completely nonchalant manner.

"I'm done now."

Fazahd keeps the rifle trained for a moment longer before putting it away. "THANK YOU FOR YOUR COOPERATION." Welp, that's one way to go about it. Fazahd steps away fro the door, so that Sandy can come in and be properly grumpy.

"Just as lon as you don't break more of the furniture than usual by the end of the night," says Sandy with obvious annoyance in her tone as she takes a seat at the bar of her wife's establishment.

Yelrona looks around at the undeniably unamused audience. "Isn't it usual to break all the furniture?" she asks Sandy as she hops lightly onto a nearby barstool. "Glass of milk," she says loudly to the bartender. "Make it a double."

Mikilos exits from the kitchen, a minor cantrip setting his hands on fire for a few moments. Mere bleach won't stop the crud that lives aorund here. "Stove is in working order again. Just tell the Oxleys not to dry any more laundry in there, and it might last the week. Oh, hey Sandy, what's up?"

"You know, it used to be you could have a good honest bar fight here," grumbles Jokul with the most obvious amount of disappointment in his voice while he stands up from... whoever the poor sod that took up a pummeling from him is.

"Oh come *on*," the Aesir groans out towards Sandy then, with an actual pout. "I never break any of your furniture."

This said right at the same time his foot crunches a piece of wood formerly part of a table.

"...That was like this when I got here."

Fazahd takes the seat next to Sandy. His helmet comes off and hangs on his hip, waiting for someone to dare to come up and club him with a bottle or something. Possibly this is done on purpose. The priest sits at the bar and...looks grim.

Fineous Oxley, one of the many Oxelys running this place hands Sandy a beer. Fazahd too. He is also not surreptiously collecting on the bets that went on over the fighting. He's less sneaky than he thinks he is.

Sandy snorts, "Plenty of fights. Just not when Fazahd is around."

"At least, not counting the ones he's _in_," Rona agrees.

Mikilos tsks mildly, rounding the bar to what's left of the poor wooden table. "I still think it'd be less damage in the long run if this place just used stone tables attached to the floor." With a murmur and a gesture, the various pieces quiver and shake with magic, before jumping back together, sealing in place to form a soild table again. Well, as soild as can be expected.

Fazahd gives Oxley a dark look as he delivers the beer - they have an understanding, likely involving body dissolution as well. He sips from the mug, saying nothing.

"Great, why don't we just put up a new law that declares fun ILLEGAL," grumbles Jokul on his way back to the spot on the bar that's been declared as his. You can tell by the fact that his trademark SWORD! is there.

And the Aesir gives a look to the Oxley on othe other side, and tells the man in a lower tone, "Just so we're clear, I won that one."

"Fun is a bloody parasite," says Sandy, darkly, under her breath. Then she has herself a drink. She eyes Yelrona.

"There is a reason why he have arenas." Fazahd wrinkles his nose and takes a drink, frowning all the way. He adds, as an aside to Sandy, "I'm waiting for someone to try and kill me, you know. It will be interesting to see if it will happen. I am almost...anticipating it."

Yelrona addresses Jokul's rhetorical question with one of her own. "If it were legal, would it be as much fun?" She returns Sandy's gaze as she gets her milk, in a dirty mug, with a dirtier look that leaves her wondering what else was in the mug. "And THAT is just about the most depressing thing I've heard anyone say today," she replies to Sandy, returning her gaze. "What have you got against fun?"

Mikilos tsks to Fazahd, as he grabs a seat himself. "No no, arenas are for showing off the skills you've already aquired. Bar brawls and back alleys are for aquiring them in the first place."

"Quite possibly," says SAndy, with a sigh. "Everything," she addresses Yelrona. And then she gets up to head up the stairs. Presumably to check on Myrana.

Sandy has left.

Dubtle has arrived.

Khogh Dorahl has arrived.

"She just generally doesn't like people being happy," Jokul offers a potential explanation for Yelrona while a coin is brought out over for the Oxley bartender in exchange for drink. "I'm getting that same sense from plenty more people lately." He totally does not side-eye Fazahd when he says that. TOTALLY.

Yelrona shrugs. "Well, in _that_case, she should have stuck around!"

"Then perhaps I should found a combat academy." Fazahd frowns from his place at the bar, mailed up as he is like some kind of mana-powered combat machine - but with a mug of ale in his hand, at the very least. He looks back to find that Sandy has disappeared, and looks somewhat disappointed. Back to the beer, then.

"...this is the place?" someone asks. Knogh pushes open the door to the Ox and stops. Comes to a halt. It's the typical reaction when a first-time patron encounters the place. The slowing, then speeding of the heart. The slow, creeping feeling of abject terror. "Dubtle. Who did y'get those directions from?" she asks.

Mikilos blinks and calls after Sandy. "I think she's busy. You shouldn't inter-...wait, you don't care. Carry on." Of course, Sandy was gone before the mage started talking, but at least he tried.

Gimring has arrived.

Following Khogh is another Khazadi. "Uh, a fellow up the street," he says, "He was quite frendly and helpful, so I have to thinkw e're in the right space. Unless he lied. If he did, I'm going right back up thre and having Imni peck his eyes out."

Imni must refer to the large raven sitting on his shoulder.

Yelrona hops off her stool and approaches the new arrivals, figuring that they look like they need a friendly greeting, and this being the Ox-Strength, they're very unlikely to get one. "Excuse me," she says to the nearest, "but what is it you're looking for?"

"...y'may just do that. Okay." And the khazad near him has the look of someone warding onesself in armor. Armor, because well, it is the Ox. "Okay, we can--we would like to eat. Something good and hardy. Someone sent us here, said it was the best food in town," she says, changing tracks mid-sentence when Yelrona comes up. There's a sack over her shoulder, then. A sack filled with goods purchased in the city. However, her garb is Alexandrian-village. Khazad influenced, to be sure. But, plain, rugged.

Yelrona shrugs. "Well, um... you _can_ get food here, yes. And, if what I hear about Khazad constitutions is accurate, you'll probably make out just fine," she adds encouragingly.

A wild sound of laughter immediately follows the words 'best food in town', rumbling loudly throughout the entire tavern.

And immediately after, Jokul clears his throat and knocks his fist against his chest. "...Sorry. I must have a cold."

Mikilos says, "Food will be a bit. Stove broke, only got it working again a little bit ago. Plenty to drink though, and think is some stew left from lunch if you don't mind it cold."

It's at this time that Fazahd comes to life again. "Serve them some of the duhz loaf that your mistress makes, with the owlbear pancetta." He gives Oxley a strong look, and then looks to the newly arriving dwarves. "Cousin. Mistress." Fazahd looks at Mikilos then. "What has happened with the stove? I built the thing, my son, it should -not- break."

Fazahd gives the Oxley behind the bar a look that borders sudden, electric fury. It was YOU.

Yelrona adds to Jokul "Start a fight with the guy behind the bar and Fozzie might not stop you."

And Jokul shakes his head at Yelrona. "Not a lot of rules with barfights, but one of the most important ones is not to fight with the bartender, don't ya know?"

Mikilos eyes Fazahd. "You've seen the kitchen here. How much of it can be accurately described as 'things which should not happen'?"

The oxley looks innocent. HE DID NOTHING. "I DID NOT AT ALL BREAK THE STOVE." He flees.

The bar is left unattended.

Khogh is turned back towards and then Dubtle clears his throat, "Well... this place looks full of local life and color."

Knogh looks sharply over towards the laughter. Then, towards Yelrona and Mikilos, considering. "...I hear you," she says. Then, "Cousin! I see you finally got some sense!" she says. "How long do you think it'll be until--" A pause, where she goes through several words, and discards most of them, "--it grows back?" She ignores Dubtle for now. Uncle always said that was the best course.

"HEY!" Jokul immediately yells after the Oxley. "YOU DIDN'T EVEN BRING ME MY ALE YET! GET BACK HERE YOU--" Aaaaand Jokul is climbing over the bar.

"SELF SERVE," yells Fineous!

"Dubtle, did th' man who told you about this place look like one of his cousins?" Knogh says suddenly, indicating Fineous.

"That triple chin looks awfully suspicious."

"OH REALLY," retorts Jokul, and stops mid-climb to stand up on the bar instead and turn to face the rest of the tavern. "YOU HEAR THAT GUYS? DRINKS ON FINEOUS!"

Oh god no.

There is a loud *THUD* that can be heard from somewhere down below, followed by a mumbled curse in Khazadi. There is a ruffle, and the sound of scuffling leather and cloth on the floor, when from beneath a table a haphazard looking Gimring clambers. His calloused palm nurses a bruised head, cheeks flushed and eyes adorned with deep bags. "'Lot here certainly are loud. A good dwarf can't get any sleep!" He doesn't seem to have noticed his fellow Khazadi yet, using the nearby wood to support himself.

"I was assured that it would remain cleaner," Fazahd says, keeping his voice stiff and neutral and his gaze held on the man behind the bar even as he flees. It's meant to look composed, but it looks more like barely restrained violence - but it is gone as the man vanishes, as there are kinsmen here. "Good evening, cousins...and honorable elder." Fazahd actually /gets to his feet/ and claps a fist against his breast as he bows very low in Dubtle's direction. "The rumors are true. The current owner of this establishment is an -excellent- cook. I have been sharing our cuisine with her --" He turns to roar at Jokul, "NO. GET DOWN OR I AM GETTING THE RIFLE OUT AGAIN!"

Mikilos fehs. "'Drinks on Fineous'? He doesn't even pay for his -own- drinks."

Yelrona shrugs. "I suppose it doesn't stop him from owing for them."

"WHAT." Bellows Jokul, and raises his finger upwards. "I MIGHT NOT BE A LEARNED MAN BUT I AM PRETTY DAMN SURE I AM IN MY LAWFUL RIGHT TO--"

And that's when the counter disagrees with the amount of weight that a fully-armored Jokul is putting on it. And with a loud *CRASH*, one of Jokul's feet sinks through the wood breaking underneath it.

"...I THINK I AM STUCK. PLEASE HELP."

"Hey, cousin! Uncle said we'd find you ...in Alexandria. ...so the drink's edible," Kno says, guessing by the fact that 1. He's standing, 2. He is somehow still alive. "And hey, it looks like there's entertainment," she says, brightening.

"Oh!" Dubtle pauses and then beams at Gimring. "It's good to meet you!" And then he turns towards Yelrona and says, "Help me with him," and then he moves to assist Jokul because he's nice like that.

...which means he's totally out of place in this bar.

"Just a moment." Fazahd frowns, and his armor lets out a great humming sound - thin, ozone-scented vapor gushes from the pipes, and the priest crosses the counter and grabs the big man by the proverbial shirt and pulls him free and onto the floor. And not really all that gently. "Behave yourself," he barks at the man, and goes to fix the damned counter.

Yelrona hesitates briefly at Dubtle's request... "Help you do _WHAT_ with him?" But apparently Dubtle has something reasonable in mind, and she goes along.

Cesran has arrived.

"...get his boot free?" says Dubtle to Yelrona, confused for a moment. He flashes a smile to Gimring, though, and to Khogh. Fazahd is given an odd look. There is something weird about him!

Gimring winces visibly at the racket made by Jokul, a deep scowl etched onto his broad, noble features. Shuffling over toward the bar, he watches the retrieval operation with passing interest, the dwarf gripping a forgotten cup of swill ale and kicking back a swig of the stuff. He wipes his beard clean with the back of a hairy hand, still seeming disoriented upon just waking.

Yelrona nods. "Easier without his foot in it," she decides, and begins unlacing Jokul's boot. Then she pauses, ties one of her silks around the lower half of her face, puts on her gloves, and continues.

Mikilos sighs, and steps behind the counter again. "You want drinks, you pay for them. Or get someone else to do so. Don't just say they will, they have to say it and mean it."

"Hey, cousin. So how IS the--" Knogh leans on the wall, next to Gimring. Then breaks off, midsentence.

"...why does it suddenly smell like rotten cheese?"

Yelrona tilts her head curiously to one side. " 'Suddenly'?"

Well, one of Jokul's boots remain embedded in the counter, sans foot. Perhaps that is the source?

Knogh looks pointedly to Jokul's boots.

The khazad then looks to Gimring, "You survived th' beer here, huh?" Kno says.

Mikilos mutters a quick cantrips, and twirls his fingers. A small gust of air swirls around the boot, gather up the scent into a small ball, before hovering over to a hole in the floor, and disappearing inside, taking the stench with it. A few moments later, a rat scrambels out, gagging.

Gimring forces a smile, his thin lips parting to bare nigh-perfect teeth. "That I did." The smile fades quickly. "Tasted better things from a sewer drain though, I'll tell you that much. With the crowd this place attracts, I might be thinking they bathe in the stuff." When the smell of Jokul's boots reaches him, the khazad fights off the urge to wretch, bemoaning the man, "Gods, someone throw him in the sea."

"Hup!" Goes Jokul when his boot leaves the depths of the counter and he lands on the floor. "Better," he declares and casually swipes his hands over his thighs.

"Pfft. I'm behaving *fine* for here. You need to *relax*, Priest. Get some drink, have som--" His words get cut off when he notices the *looks* sent to his boot. And he snaps his hand through the air to snatch it back after Mikilos is done with it. "I'll have you KNOW, I had a bath this morn--" Pause on the rat. "... I AM SURE THAT WAS UNRELATED."

Yelrona pulls down the silk from over her nose and mouth to hang bandanna-like around her neck. "I'm honestly surprised anyone can tell the difference."

Mikilos glances towards the dwarven arrivals. "The food and drink here are very very. Very -what- is something of a luck of the draw. If the owner, Miss Myrana, is here, things tend to be very good. If not... well, sometimes she leaves leftovers we can use."

"...stuff'll put hair on your chin, that's for sure." Knogh replies. She shoots a look Fazhad's way. MAYBE IT HAS GROWN JUST BY INHALING THE AIR. Nope.

High hopes.

"You think this stuff is bathe-worthy? Dubtle found us directions," she says then, clarifying how they'd gotten here. "We'll be lookin for a place for th' night, and headed out in th' morning." He'd recognize the bag across her back--now on the floor next to her. Supplies for the restaurant.

"The drink is better than the food!" Yelrona offers brightly. "Or at least, you think it is after you've drunk enough of it."

Fazahd says nothing after that. Because cripes, what CAN one say? He instead mutters a prayer to Reos in Khazdul and walks away from Jokul and approaches the trio of dwarves. His people. Proper people. "Good evening, again. As I was about to say, the proprietor of this place is actually a most excellent cook - and, thanks to me, is working very hard to introduce a number of our own meals to the public." He looks to Dubtle and bows deeply again. "I am Fazahd Masterbuilder, honorable grandfather. I am honored to meet you." Because nobody does elder worship like dwarves, and they're all going to outlive Fazahd anyway.

"Wow." Dubtle sniffs again.

"I haven't smelled anything ike that since back in Khaz-," and then Fazahd is talking and he just staaaaaares. A human from Masterbuilder? "Oh waaaait. I think I've heard of you!"

"Maybe next time. I made a promise I'd get back with these, rain or shine," Knogh returns to Yelrona. Then seems to think of something. "I'm Knogh. This is my cousin, Gimring. The bookish one over there's Dubtle."

Gimring leans against the bar more comfortably now, seeming to recover from whatever ailment the local fare gave him earlier. His cool eyes affix themselves on the interaction between Dubtle and Fazahd, buishy brows lifted in question before the older dwarf voices his recognition. To Yelrona, the stern brow of the dwarf dips in quiet greeting. "Pleased."

Mikilos turns his focus towards fixing the bartop. Which when you're a master wizard isn't that hard. But it does take focus on concentration, you don't want to accidentally turn the bartop into soft cheese. Myrana was mad enough the last time.

Yelrona nods a return greeting to Gimring. "The same. I'm glad to see you recovered."

"I'm sure that you have, honorable grandfather." He keeps bent for a moment longer, then straightens. "May I have your name?"

Yelrona looks puzzled. "If you have his name, how would we tell you apart?"

GAME: Yelrona rolls perform/comedy: (1)+6: 7 (EPIC FAIL)

"..oh yes! I ermember you for sure! I think you were in Khazad Duin for a long time, weren't you! And I don't e evn HAVE a book on me."

The raven perched on his shoulder squawks once and adds, "You have one in your backpack."

"SHH!"

Mikilos blinks mildly. "Just one?"