Poolside Bar
Log Info
- Title: Poolside Bar
- Emitter: Irshya
- Characters: Barclaiigh, Imane, Irshya
- Place: the TarRaCe
- Time: Monday, February 15, 2022, 6:00 PM
- Summary: Barclaiigh leaves the men's side of the private baths to find Irshya entertaining an unfamiliar face in the common pools. Imane is introduced while Bar struggles with his trademarked awkwardness. Imane describes her adventures and wonders about kobolds. The water-gobber is playful as ever and the Khazadi wildman reacts poorly. Irshya recognizes she took her play too far and both apologize. They discuss their respective pasts after Imane departs.
- OOC Warning: Barclaiigh is uncomfortable around certain sorts of physical contact and is RPed as such. Players were aware and consenting in the scene.
The TarRaCe bathhouse, evening
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= At a glance around The TarRaCe -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Barclaiigh 4'5" 202 Lb Mountain Dwarf Male A thick tree-trunk of a dwarf. Wavy auburn hair, loose traveling clothes Imane 5'6" 105 Lb Dawn Elf Female A blonde elf in a white tunic and black boots. Irshya 3'0" 35 Lb Goblin Female A small, blue-skinned Goblin in sea-green robes. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Imane smiles and pushes herself up off the ledge by her arms and with a motion pushes herself forward so she was back into the pool. "Good idea!"
Irshya giggles lightly, and begins to swim around the bath, slowly churning the water into movement.
She then simply floats, allowing the current to move her about the pool.
"So Irshya is pleased to meet you, miss..." The Gobbo eyes Imane expectantly.
Imane ohs and holds out her hand as if by habit, "I'm Imane, pleased to meet you!"
The Gobbo goes around the pool a couple of times before she manages to reach out and snag Imane's hand. She shakes firmly a couple of times, before releasing the Dawn Elf's hand.
"New to Alexandria?", Irshya wonders. "Irshya hopes you are getting on well."
Imane smiles and nods, "New-ish. I don't go far when in town. I spend a lot of time outside the walls..more familiar seeming." she pauses a moment, considering the second part, "Im not bad off, thank you for asking."
Barclaiigh was enjoying the men's baths but his idle relaxation was interrupted by a pair of arvek brothers who'd never outgrown their puerile feuding. The half-eased knot in his shoulder he'd named after his grumpy-bear companion was back in full force and was bringing a flock of grouse with it. Being the bigger fella, he'd stood up and headed out and is stopped with his back to the dividing curtain and his eyes closed for a ten-count.
The dwarf is big on any given day and even moreso with the extra mass put on for winter; something akin to an ambulatory tree trunk with a drooping mop of somewhat-wavy hair and beard sagging down and dripping madly after a good soaking. His pale shoulders are freckled and otherwise decorated with impressive bruises and claw welts drawn on by an adolescent ursine temper-tantrum or two.
He pats his barrel chest and issues a deliberate, calming sigh before padding his way over and into the communal baths. "'s why we need t'sort out them 'bolds, Truffles," he mutters (seemingly to a set of boar's tusks hanging from a simple leather necklace). "Ain't got no musclebrained 'nar playin' blasted pink-belly at quiet time..." he sloshes on in, not yet recognizing the familiar face.
"Irshya is from the sea, far to the south. She has lived here for a few years now. New-ish, as you say."
She floats around the pool in a lazy circle.
"Hope the city isn't too offensive to your nose."
As the Khazad arrives, and begins to settle himself into the main pool, Irshya grins and submerges, darting under the water quickly toward Barclaiigh. Surfacing right beside him, her expression cheerful. "ClayClay!"
Imane starts to reply but tilts her head slightly confused as her new acquaintance suddenly swims off only to reappear next to the dwarf. Imane smiles a little getting it finally and sinks lower in the water and tilts her head back to rewet her long hair.
Half-distracted by his own mutterings, Bar has a good start at the gobber's arrival. The "Yah!" might be an exclamatory cry of surprise, an enthusiastic, familiar, and abbreviated greeting, or a combination of the two. The way his arms come up in a defensive posture... it's probably the former.
"Oh-- hah, eh. H'lo, miss Irshya," grins the Khazadi man, easing his arms down and rolling the knotted shoulder. "Should maybe warn a fella afore... oh, fins... 'n a tail?" His little eyes narrow as he interest is piqued. Then he notices something else and the rafters above are veeeery interesting as his cheeks flush.
"(... good craftmanship... sturdy roof,)" he mutters.
The pool shark giggles at his reaction, and she nods somewhat sagely. "Yes, we commissioned several good wood workers to make the place interesting as well as well built." Her cheeks flush a pale lavender in colour. "Yes. Irshya has an... odd heritage that makes her part shark. Irshya doesn't talk about it too much, but could be convinced if Clay asks nicely."
The wee woman gestures to Imane. "This is Imane, new friend to Irshya. Imane, this is Barclaiigh, also new friend to Irshya." The Khazad's name is spoken with a slight burr, obviously an homage to Barclaiigh's accent.
Imane makes her way over and offers her hand again, "Well met good sir. She is very good and surprising people in would seem?"
Barclaiigh bobs his head in a nod, tilting his head and admiring the underside of a roof more than he's ever done a man-made creation. "Good beams... 'n th'... uh, struts? Hm." He curls his sausage fingers and pulls town down through his beard, continuing down into the water.
A glance is spared Imanewards and an awkward smile. "Jus' not used t'people bein' so, ah... friendly?" A moment to think and then a nod. "Friendly, yah. I'm Clayclay Stoutbrew. Of the Redridge Stoutclays and Brewstops, miss Imane."
Wait. Something wasn't right there. The Khazad-aul pauses and purses his lips, looking to one side. "Y'said Imane, right?"
Imane nods and tilts her head, "Aye, I did.... ?"
A wee hand tugs at Barclaiigh's arm. "It is okay to look at Irshya, you know. Irshya is perfectly comfortable in her own skin, in a baths." She giggles lightly and settles down beside the Khazad.
"Irshya notes that Barclaiigh called himself ClayClay, like Irshya did." Another giggle is had. "Yes, the lady's name is Imane."
"Dont know what y'mean," Barclaiigh responds for Irshya's benefit, wondering now how the masseur decided to go into his line of work. Was it a calling like his to the Word? The Khazadi wildman is sweating a little more than one would expect.
"OH!" Up comes a pointing finger at Imane, which he waggles before closing his fist and jerking a thumb back at his sternum. "Barclaiigh Stoutbrew. Of th'Redridge Stoutbrews. Fields, brewers, 'n waystop. Got a little, ah... twisted around there, s'pose." He plasters on a guileless smile. "Easy roads, miss Imane."
Imane blinks a bit confused but smiles and nods, "Well met."
The Gobbo laughs and sighs. "You're more of a gentleman than one might expect.", she says softly. "May Irshya sit in your lap?" Her grin is broad, once more showing of a spot where a tooth is missing.
"So have you run into miss Shilde recently, Clay? Irshya has not had a chance to pass on your message."
The pool shark glances to Imane. "So what brings you to the city this time around?"
Imane shrugs, "I don't care for the cold in the wood?" she almost asks then giggles, "I stay here and just venture out to make rounds to make sure all is well.."
Barclaiigh's expression goes from slackjawed and non-plussed to blinking, goony grin as Irshya switches between teasing the Khazadi shaman and mentioning his sometimes-partner in executing guild contracts. He can't seem to stop grinning as he looks down at the water and shakes his head. "Miss Shilde must be out with her boy, Rocky. Doin' important things'n bein' tough'n clever." Water cascades from his hand as he lifts it up and splashes his face as if that'll do something to clear away his smile.
"Took another job'n the sewers... since that was the last place we saw one'n other. Jus' got stinky'n had t'fight some stray little clock-work fellas," The dwarf's smile fades a bit and he does manage to look at Irshya. "That's what th'feykin called'm. 'Clock-work.' Like robuts."
There's a glance at Imane and his smile is less-awkward this time. The conversation going into his wheelhouse helping him to relax a little. "Know a springs out'n Alexandros... but some 'bolds aren't interested'n sharin' right now. Tryin' t'make peace but I don't speak th'language." A nod and a glance at Irshya, "--not that I don't like coming here, miss Irshya."
Imane nods, "Kobolds, eh? They can be most stubborn, but they can also usually be frightened off easy enough. For them to be laying claim in the face of opposition would imply they have something to loose by leaving?" she muses aloud as if walking through the info she has at hand.
"Kobolds are adorable little creatures.", Irshya says with a snort, "But they can be stubborn. Perhaps Irshya could speak to them for you, Barclaiigh?" The Gobbo takes the opportunity to attempt to slip into the Khazad's lap, and settle onto her stomach there.
"Yes, clock-works that keep the sewers clean? Going .. haywire? Irshya has heard. As for Shilde, Irshya will still keep an eye out for her, and pass on your message."
She grins then at Imane. "Irshya is not impressed with the dry cold. The seas and rivers are okay, but the dry cold is very unpleasant."
Imane stands to her full height and pulls her hair up as she turns a full circle, "I don't exactly have the wardrobe for it either. " she giggles then smiles, "But I must go. I need to go, but I will return soon enough!" she gives a wave and begins making her way to the edge of the pool.
Barclaiigh flinches a bit, unsure of how to react when the gobber makes her move. "Er-- I, uh... please?" He has something of a pained expression, his lips pulling back as he grinds his teeth. His hands shake in momentary indecision before calloused fingers come down and pluck up the gobber and pushes her back a bit more roughly than he intends, sending up little waves in the pool.
"Sorry! 'm sorry... y'just don't, I mean," he scoots in the opposite direction, missing Imane's farewell. The painfully-awkward wildman is trying to calm his nerves as he trembles subtly.
Irshya makes a little squeak of a noise as she's picked up and shoved across the pool. Submerging, she zips back to Barclaiigh's side. She pops up with a rawr! sound. "Again, again!", she says, holding up her arms expectantly, seemingly unfazed or bothered by him having tossed her off his lap.
Barclaiigh shies back a bit from the gobber, still working on catching his breath. "Miss Irshya," he's uncomfortable. "Please now, 've... I mean I'm-- I don't... I've never, hmm." He reaches across his own considerable chest and scratches his shoulder. There's another pause in the hopes of finding his equilibrium. "'m not used t'people touchin' me... like that," he mumbles, leaning into the last word. Even if yer jus' bein' friendly it's too much fer me. 'm sorry."
The wildman sinks down into the water, letting it come up to his jawline before he ducks his chin and sighs a stream of bubbles.
<OOC> Barclaiigh says, "I'm cool, btw. Even if Bar is a bit freaked out. Don't want to make you feel bad." <OOC> Irshya is all good.
She eyes him at length, absorbing his awkwardness with a small smile. Abruptly, she pulls herself from the pool. She pads along quietly on bare feet, disappearing into the lady's side of the baths.
Some short time later, she returns, a bathing suit covering her from shoulder to groin, a shade of blue closely matching her skin colour.
With a little splash, she hops back into the pool, circling nearby the Khazad. "Irshya is just used to being friendly. She... touches."
Barclaiigh's feeling more than a little sheepish, embarrassed by his continued sensitivity to things everyone else seems to be comfortable with. He still manages a relieved smile when Irshya returns and nods his head. "'m sorry, miss Irshya, truly. Jus'... we weren't like that growin' up'n 'm sure that sorta thing happened at th'Grove but not fer me."
The Khazad sits a little straighter, futzing with his mass of soaked hair before leaning back against the lip to look at the ceiling again. "'n it's been years on the road. Just me'n auntie'n Truffles. Then me'n auntie'n Porter-- mostly just me'n Porter cuz auntie is off doin' business. Y'get used t'just bein' on yer lonesome."
"'know lotsa critters're just friendly that way'n yer tryin' t'be nice... but it makes me wanna rabbit." He sighs, frustrated with himself. "Sorry."
"Irshya does enjoy teasing you. But sometimes Irshya goes on too much. Irshya is sorry." The wee face moves closer, til she is floating just before the Khazad's feet.
"Irshya understands about being alone. She travelled here by herself, from her home in the ocean. Clay, you don't need to apologize."
The pool shark begins to circle the pool, churning up the water, and soon the water begins to move about the center.
Barclaiigh is quickly himself again, or at least the version that isn't sputtering and choking and red-faced. He grins watching the gobber swim and leans away from the edge of the pool, pulling off his necklace and lightly tossing it into the swirling current. "Go've a swim, Truffles. Y'always loved a good splash..." The tusks float, bobbing on the leather thong as they get caught up in the lazy vortex. The Khazad flexes his head from one side to the other and then rolls his shoulders some.
When Irshya finds her way back up to the surface he asks, "So yer kin're all part shark? 'Don't claim t'know everythin' there is t'know but I never heard'a that. Well, th'forge-dwarves that're part fire from Roa's own realm but I always assumed they were jus', y'know, stories fer kids."
Her cheeks flush a light purple in colour, and she turns to float upon her back, letting the current she generated move around in a lazy circle once more.
"Irshya's father was a plain old Goblin. Irshya's mother, on the other hand, is a sea hag." She looks away at this point, seemingly deeply embarrassed. "So Irshya is part Gobbo, part hag, and that expresses itself in her tail and fin, teeth and gills." She holds up a foot, and spreads her toes, showing off a delicate webbing that joins them together. "Irshya is... unsure of how people would react. Her robes obscure her heritage, for the most part. Hard to do that here. Irshya lived most of her life unclothed. It is just... natural to her."
GAME: Barclaiigh rolls Knowledge/Nature: (2)+9: 11 (identify Monstrous Humanoids) <OOC> Barclaiigh says, "durrr" <OOC> Irshya giggles.
Barclaiigh's lips make a little 'o' as the revelation is offered, blushing again and inspecting the callouses on his palms while the gobber floats on her back. "Can't blame folks fer their parents'n plenty'a times folks comin' from 'good' races aren't so much." He shrugs and looks up to see the webbed toes, smiling. "But folks usually have t'get pretty good at magics t'come up with th'handy extra bits you've got built-in. 'n y'swim better'n an otter goin' downstream, miss Irshya."
"M'sister didn't feel like waitin' fer m'folks t'kick off'n join Roa'n His Halls. She married this schemin', no good bastard'n try t'kill m'auntie. Got poor Truffles killed," he nods at the necklace swirling around with Irshya. "Ceara... she snuck me m'first drink'n use t'make sure m'bigger cousins didn't pick on us younger kin."
"Maybe folks react wrong if they hear what kinda thing yer mama is. But if they come'n meet you'r just spend some time'n yer nice place here they'll know you ain't any kinda monster, miss Irshya."
"Hmmm, Irshya is comfortable in her own skin. Just.. she learned that not everyone is willing to wait and see if she is a monster or not. Irshya has... deep wounds. Ill-healed ones, despite being an adherent of Rada." Her voice is small and distant, though she regards him curiously. "It sounds as though your life started well, but went poorly after sister married. Have you left that life behind, then? Without looking back?"
Barclaiigh laughs in spite of himself, little eyes squinting. "Y've never meet a dwarf afore, then? Nah," he sighs, some of the good humor fading. "Auntie'n I run 'tween yer city here'n the family holdings at th'Redridge up north'a ways. She does her business'n I try t'keep'r safe. I still see m'kin a few times a year... jus' also tryin' t'keep to th'Word'n that sort of thing."
There's another pause. "Sister'n'r husband'r doin' mine work. No Khazad died so their schemes ain't th'sort of thing yer sent off permanent fer. Maybe after a few decades they see a way t'come back to th'family'n we can make it all right." He reaches out to snag his necklace, kissing a tusk before pulling it back over his head. "'n Truffles's still with me'n a way. Nothin'a sorry can't fix, I think."
"Irshya admits she does not know Khazad nearly well enough. Perhaps then, Clay will help her with this? It is good that you have resolved it such that you may still return home, and that your sister and her husband are still with the living." She glances over her shoulders a moment, before looking to Barclaiigh. "Could Irshya sit, again?", she wonders softly, her glance not quite looking the Khazad in the eye.
"Y'keep up miss Sabina's agreement t'serve Stoutbrew drinks'n I promse y'all'll get sick'a seein' me." Barclaiigh smiles easily. The expression only twitches subtly into a frown at the request and he takes a steadying breath and nods. "Alright, miss Irshya. Jus'... careful, Porter's been ornery'n a prickhog spooked outta his ruttin'."
"... what about you'n yer kin? Sounds like it's a long swim off'a ways. Too much paddlin' fer yer likin'?"
The pool shark grins beatifically, and carefully moves to occupy the Khazad's lap.
Her eyes widen. "OH! You're that Stoutbrew?!", the Gobbo says, her tone full of honest surprise. "Of course, Irshya will keep Sabina's word. Her word is Irshya's word, when it comes to the Tarrace."
She yawns lightly, and nods slowly. "It is a long journey. Irshya kind of cheated, she used the floating houses to move along faster than she could swim." She pauses, her expression thoughtful. Her head then droops, as her eyes flicker shut.
A moment later, there's a tiny snoring sound as her cheek plants itself onto Barclaiigh's chest.