Short Fernwood
Tenebrae - Saturday, March 03, 2018, 7:32 PM
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* A07: Fernwood Pub *>--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
The common room of the Fernwood Pub dominates the inn, spacious and airy because of the high, vaulted ceiling. Ornately carved beams of dark, polished wood form a lattice overhead, supporting the arched roof two storeys above the floor. To the right of the double-door entry is a spiral staircase, winding upwards to a balcony that rings and overlooks the main area. Large windows at this level grant an excellent view of the river to the west and colorful market stalls to the north and east. An air of coziness is salvaged by keeping the pub dimly lit; parchment-shrouded mana lanterns hang at intervals from the base of the balcony, nestled amongst lush, magically propagated ivy and ferns that grow over this false demi-ceiling and the struts that support it.
The bar is sleek and simple, comprised of meticulously polished black lacquer. Tables are set under the darker niches formed by the balcony floor as well as on the balcony itself. A few are deliberately sized to accommodate halflings and gnomes, but the majority are meant for human-sized individuals. A large common table is on the main floor, set before a semi-circular stage situated against the western wall. Beside it, with pipes mounted upon the wall and running up past the balcony and almost to the ceiling, is a refurbished pipe organ made to look like the one lost when the Fernwood was destroyed during the Merkabah Siege.
"Yes I carry a few items on Malfeasence." Arf Arf! "To store interesting items I come across." He bites his lower lip, fighting the urge to ride of and indulge in his gnome-fueled pasion. "Yes, many things to mix and play with." The armored gnome says as he sits across from Xasany. At their side, alongside the table is Soup's large Dire Corgi mount. Happily stretched out on the floor. "Well what he takes to face also tends to end up in his belly as well. Another useful trait for being able to mix up ingredients to sooth a poor canine tummy." There's a pause from Soup as he bites his lower lip. "Trying to still my hunger to have all the food to yourself? You should know, even if vomiting frogs were to render me no longer hungry. Nothing can stop Malfeasence." There's another Arf Arf! At the dog's name being mentioned. Then the Shark-Fin like up raising of the sniffing muzzle at the edge of the table. Looming upwards at the mention of food.
Xasany quickly reaches out to take a portion of the savoury soup, scooping into the bowl of hers that recently held stew. She grins and settles back in her chair once more. "Indeed, there are many different plants out in the wilds nearby, full of interesting and mysterious properties." She inhales the smell of the soup and tries a spoonful. "Mmmh, some of it leads to delicious soups like this. While others lead to poison, or healing. It is such a deep field, I totally understand your passion for it." Xasany chuckles and shakes her head. "I am not trying to spoil your appetite. Merely teasing, as always."
Selia grumbles, dishevled hair and squinted eyed peering over the blacony railing. Well, though really. It's barely sundown, the tiny dancer is still waking up. "Wot's the wot wot? 'o's barkin? Why? Why bark?"
"It's edible?" Soup says of the soup. He blinks a few times and then dishes out a bowl which he leans down and sets on the floor. It promptly vanishes into the dogs mouth, a few moments later the empty and now clean bowl returns with a potoooe. Spooning out for his own consumption, Soup chuckles and shrugs. "That it is, very useful. Though of course now I know whom to pester for high quality pottery when I get myself started. THere's always a never ending need to keep things in different containers." He grins. "Two Black Cats fighting?" He guesses again as to Xasany's Maker's Mark. Then turns his attention towards Selia with a chuckle. "What bark? Hark Hark? I do not think there is anything in here that would bark." The armored gnome says with a grining earnestness as he's sitting right next to a giant heart shaped dog arse.
Xasany is busy spooning soup into her mouth like someone might take the bowl from her. "Hmm? No, it's terrible. I'm simply sparing you and your dog the... agony of having to stomach it." She is not smiling, honest. It's just an upside-down frown. "Two cats fighting? As a maker's mark? Ye seem to think it's easy to just draw that on everything I make, hmm? Oh no. A maker's mark needs to be simple. Identifiable. It's an X." At the sound of a grumpy sounding voice, Xasany looks up to the balcony. "Dogs bark. It's a thing they do. We're awfully sorry to have woken you at the crack of dinner."
Selia squits, grumbles, and disappears from the balcony. A few moments later the half sized halfer appears at the bottom of the steps, peering and scowling some more, not quite reeady to comment just yet.
Taking a spoonful Soup nods slowly. "Absolutely horrific." He manages to get out before shoving another mouthful in. "Mrrpghgh." He comments and then swallows. "Just an X? That's no fun." He coughs a few times and takes another spoonful as Xasany comments to Selia. There's a stiffled chortle as he starts to choke on his food, before pounding himself on the chest and finally managing to swallow. Then he blows off a low whistle and takes a sip of his ale. "Perhaps a glass of ale will make waking up a bit better?" The knight offers as he waves down a server. "A cup of ale for yon sleepy lady."
Xasany peers at the newcomer and quirks an eyebrow. "Is everything alright? Have you had breakfast? Or elevensies?" The Gnomish woman looks to Soup then, eyeing him as he mumbles over his soup. "It's not meant to be fun, it's a maker's mark." His coughing fit puzzles her, and she shakes her head. "Careful, if you eat it too fast, you'll get yourself on yourself."
Selia peers another moment, and silently stalks behind the bar counter, a couple of quiet thumps and clinks sounding soon after. The bemused bartender mearly stands aside; this is apparently not a unique event. Soon thereafter, a large steaming mug is et upon the bartop, swiftly followed by hand, arms, adn the rest of Selia, perching up on the countertop to take a quiet slurp of whatever steaming mess is in the mug. Likely coffee. Very thick and hot coffee. With honey.
"Everything is meant to be fun, if you come at it from the right way." Soup replies with a grin. "Why do you think I carry a lute everywhere?" He motions to the ornate and well cared for lute secured to the Dire Corgi's saddle. "Sometimes things need a song, even those things that shouldn't be spoken of." Then soup gives Selia an askance look as the halfling glowers over acrid chemicals at the bar. He leans towards Xasany and stage whispers. "You know, the steed can carry too. You just need to hold on tight."
Orenthal has connected.
Xasany watches the halfling climb aboard the bar with her frothing, hot drink of coffee. Yeah, sure, it is probably mostly vodka or rum, but we'll agree that it's coffee. The Gnomish woman shakes her head and says to the other woman, "Feeling better then?" Xasany grins then, and looks to Soup. Her eyes widen and she shakes her head. "Oh hells no.", she says in the same stage whisper. "I've got my frogs, I'll be good."
The Halfling woman crouches upon the bar sipping at something hot from a mug, while the two Gnomes are seated at a table befitting their size.
Selia blinks slowly. Or maybe she just closed her eyes for a moment. "Wait... frogs?" It's still to early for this.
Reaching off the table to stroke the fur of his Dire Corgi steed as it lays alongside of where Xasany and Soup sit, Soup chuckles and shakes his head. "Well never let it be said that I did not offer to carry you away with me." He grins and winks to Xasany before he takes a pull on his ale. Returning to his soup, Soup comments. "I'm going to dodge to the floor the moment it comes to violence however."
Xasany peers at Soup. "The knight is going to flop down to the floor at the first sign of violence? And leave me up here?" She snorts and chuckles. "Leaving the woman to do the man's job, is it?" The Gnomish woman glances to Selia a moment. "Frogs at fourty paces at dawn? Or perhaps dueling thrown non-sharp objects?"
Orenthal picks that moment to enter the Fernwood. Well-dressed, as befitting a well-to-do merchant or burgher, he enters with a bit of swagger, using a tall walking staff.
Selia considers a few moments, takes another slurp of her coffee, and flicks her fingers, sending a copper arching towards Xasany's bowl. For half awake, she's a rather good aim. "Ain't sure yet 'bout da frogs, but iffen is a duel ya want, reckon can deliver." Her accent nearly drips with Low Charn, with more than a little mix of assorted smatterings of other languages.
"The only man's job here is to escape alive." Soup remarks with a grin. He watches the arc of the tossed coin and gives a low whistle. Then reaches over and plucks up his lute, struming it once. "Oh, across many tables the pair did glare, one gnomish woman with green shiney hair. Across from her, all daggers and dance, a halfling with an throwing hand as fast as a lance." He chuckles and pats on the lute as if playing a drum. "Hidely-Hey-Hidely-Ho, in the Fenwood there was going to be a show. Hidely-Hey-Hidely-Ho."
Xasany's eyes follow the coin in its arc, and a long, thin finger nudges her bowl enough. The copper bounces off the table and skitters off onto the floor. Likely more than one person goes for it, and there's momentary chaos. She eyes the halfling. "You do sound..." The Gnomish woman pauses, her mouth open as she turns to glare at the lute-drumming Soup. "Hey. We're tryin' to talk here. And what happened to the daring do, hmm? You don't mention hitting the floor and making for the door... in any of your songs so for..." Sorry, it rhymed!
The green-haired Gnome looks back to Selia. "Well, you seem'd grumpy. And that's a well traveled accent you have. I sniff a hint of Draconian and even some Goblin-talk. I'd say you've had an interesting life so far?" Xasany catches a chair with a stocking'd foot, and pulls it out from her table. "Care to sit and talk a while afore we throw things at each other?" The arrival of Orenthal gives her some pause. "Man, the legs go all the way up.", she says quietly of him.
Orenthal has arrived in time for the entertainment, then. He'll take a seat at thr bar and watch for the moment. His legs indeed go all the way up to his hips. Walking would be really hard if they didn't.
Selia considers a moment and grins. "I's Selia. Selia Shadowkin. Dat's Issa." The little lutch gestures vaugely behind her, and drops to the floor, mug in hand, starting towards the table with the gnomes. She pauses however, spying the dog again. It's much bigger at eye level. Taking a sharp left, the halfer makes a wide circle, approaching the table from the far side of the massive corgi. Well, massive by some standards. "Down. Legs go down. Usually to da floor."
"Ogres, Gnolls, Dragon Knights, Undead Wights. All of those are foes worthy of tale. Not getting stomped on by angry fe-males." Soup grins and chuckles, plucking at his lute. Behind him the dog leans over the edge of the table and sucks Soup's bowl of soup into it's maw and then spits it back out upside down on the table scoured of all possible food molecules. It then looms over Soup's shoulder watching Selia with that patent look that all animals reserve for people uncomfortable with them. The long raspy tongue of the Corgi lolling out like a wind-less pennant. "Ah well no more violence?" With a shrug Soup lowers his lute and lifts up his glass of ale, taking a pull on it.
Xasany grins as Selia comes over, even though through circuitous means. "I'm Xasany. And this is Soup and Malfeasance." The perk of the dog's ears at the name gives away which is which. "So you obviously have some pull here, what with mixing your own drink at the bar. Do you live here? Or are you part owner or something?" She glances to Soup. "Gosh, here I am threatening to duel the Pub's owner!" The Gnomish woman snorts then. "So now womenfolk are worse than ogres. Goodness. I have so much work to do with you, Sir Soup."
Looking back to the halfling as she settles into the seat. "Well, you see things from our point of view. Generally, we look up. Thusly, legs go up. For tall people."
Orenthal chuckles as he watches the entertainment, sipping his ale and chuckling here and there.
GAME: Beaglefinder has awarded you 450 XP for being in character!
GAME: RPG - Staff gives you 21000 copper.
<OOC> Soup just got an rp award? 3150 copper, I could see Soup mid sentence getting just bowled over by a shower of coins. Vanishing into a cold metalic doom under a mountain of pennies.
Selia snorts, but grins. "Nah, I jus sleep 'ere sumtimes. Did da place a favor time 'r two, reckon dey let stuff slide now 'n'gain. Anyways, legs always go down. Don't matter 'ow long dey do it, still da same direction. Iffer yer legs ain't going down, yer facing da wrong way. which i reckon ain't always a bad thing, but ain't da standard." She looks over at Soup and the canine. "....which one's which?"
"Again with the assault upon my words and honor. Were that I confident of victory I would challenge you to a duel!" Soup remarks to Xasany. "However, I retain my valor for another day. My sense for today." He grins and chuckles. Reaching up and back to pet the dog looming above him. "Hopefully you won't get thrown out. I like this spot a bit better then the Ox, would hate for you not to be albe to share it." He grins and smirks. Then inclines his head towards Selia. "I am Sir Silsoup Llameni! Knight of the Order of the Cockatrice, Hero of Martisdale, Savior of Lenis, slayer of the Ogre of Argisfarm. This is my trusty steed Malfesance!" Arf, Arf! Goes the Dire Corgi at the mention of it's name. "A pleasure to meet you fair Lady Selia of Shadowkin." He manages a flourishing bow from his seat. The Corgi leaning forward to clasp teeth to the collar of his shirt so he doesn't fall over. Straitening back up the armoed gnome grins. "Most call me Soup, because ... something to do with being thick and filling. But I'm
too tired and this ale has gone a bit to my head."
"Indeed, I suppose you are right. However, sometimes my feet are ... not on the ground. Not a pleasing experience the first time, but you get used to it." Xasany nods to Selia. She looks to Soup while he works himself up to an honourable fervor introducing himself, and looks back to the Halfling. "While he's working his way to a stroke, the Ghnome is Soup, the dog is Malfeasance. The knight and his trusty rider." The little woman glances back to Soup. "Thick and filling? Are we talking about your stories or your penis, man? Are you bragging or flirting?" Xasany shakes her head and giggles. She pauses then, and looks to Orenthal chuckling. Her eyes narrow slightly. "Are you having a laugh, then, at our conversation?"
Orenthal says to Xasany, "I am. Are you not the entertainers here?" he asks earnestly.
Selia nods sagely to Soup. "Most blokes just talk about der length, nay consider da whole volume. Good on you." Glancing to Orenthal, the little lutch touches her brow. "Can't say fer dem, but I am. Nay 'ere, usual like. Dance at Rosie's sumtime, JailHouse Bar when it ain't burned down, threaters now an' again."
There's a cough from the armored gnome. "Not that I'd be so crass, but I'm not sure I should make a choice there. Cannot I simply be commenting to both?" He grins, takes a sip of his ale and then sets the cup down. Above him the Dire Corgi arf-arfs again as it's name is said by Xasany. He grins and inclines his head towards Selia. "Well, you know, experience teaches whats important." Then he pauses and lifts the ale and looks down into the bottom of the cup. "Hrmm, either this isn't ale or I took a bit harder of a shot to the temple earlier. Damn Dragon, always aiming for the skull." He blinks a few times and shakes his head.
Xasany blinks at Orenthal a few times. "No. If I were providin' the entertainment, you'd be vomiting frogs by now. But luckily, I have enough for the moment, so I won't be needin' your assistance." She gestures with her hand, and looks back to Selia, her eyes widening as she laughs. "Well, you're giving him the right of it. If he can't reach the bottom, bang the heck out of the sides!" She slaps the table and laughs a little longer before looking to Soup. "Oho, now you understand. They keep feeding and watering us with human sized glasses. And you're finding ale hits like a hammer when you drink eight times the amount in one go."
Orenthal makes a mental note - find out where this Rosie's place and never go anywhere near it ever again. He blinks at Xasany and says, "But you're all acting so silly. Like clowns. You do know that, yes?"
Selia squits at Xasany. "Okay, wot's with da frogs? Ya mentioned 'em too many times ta let slide." She glances to Orentahl again. "Dis ain't actin. Is da real thing."
There's a side glance towards Xasany as Soup sets his cup aside. "If I do remember, you ordered the drinks. I ordered the food. This of course was your plan then?" He thumps a leather clad fist on his armor. "Here I am beset, my honor impuned all part of an evil plan to lay me low with spirits?" There's a pause from Soup then and he turns his eyes on Orenthal with a long slow gaze. "There is a point where comments aren't taken as jest." Then he glances to how Selia replies and shifts on his seat. "Perhaps it's time I call it an evening, I'm starting to take offense. Never a good thing with liquor about."
Xasany squints at Orenthal once more. "Oh, so we can't enjoy ourselves except to be your entertainment? Clowns? Are we painted like clowns too?" The Gnomish woman looks to Selia and shakes her head. "I'm a witch. It's a thing." She shrugs, and turns to look at Soup. "Remember that you ordered more ale on top of that, as well as the food. I thought perhaps you could hold a bit of alcohol. If you feel you must, then go. I only wanted to buy you a drink, yes? And have a laugh. Hopefully with you laughing along with me." Xasany looks back to Orenthal, and then to Soup. "Probably for the best. It's not worth getting worked up over. We'll see you around, hmm?"
The green-haired witch fetches her cloak from the one empty chair at their table, and pulls it over her shoulders. From the rafters, a small grey owl drops, fluttering about and landing upon her shoulder. Squirming in its beak is a sizable mouse. "Gah, you always do that. You know I don't eat them." "Whooooo.", the bird replies, letting the mouse bounce off Xasany's shoulder. "Eewwh!", she says as the mouse skitters off across the floor. To Selia, she winks. "Thanks for that, see you around, yes?" From her sleeve, she pulls a small coin. She flicks the copper in Selia's direction before the Gnomish woman heads for the door.
"For the dog." The Armored Gnome says sheepishly, he deposits a few coins in an empty bowl and then pats his dog on the muzzle. "Tis time to leave Mal. We return home to rest off another day." The Dog for it's part pants and shifts to allow Soup to climb on board. Then trots of to the door, which once opened leads the pair out into the evening air. A cloud of lightly falling shed hair in their heroic wake.
Soup has left.
Orenthal looks puzzled at Selia, and wonders, "How do you all live such silly lives? Doesn't it get old, every line is a punch-line, every walk has a pratfall?" He shrugs to Soup, and says, "Well, you're being funny very seriously, sir. Well done. You're spot on as the straight man, if it's any consolation?" To Xasani, he says, "I was under the impression that most entertainers quite enjoyed their jobs as they worked."
Orenthal has disconnected.
Selia grins and rolls her eyes, but nods to Xasany. "Witch. Fair enough." Glancing sidelong, the little lutch watches the mouse try to escape. It's not too clear what happens, but it seems the shadow of the barcounter intercepts, leaving no mouse behind.
Though there is an exodus of people leaving the Pub, there too is an influx of others. And despite the flow of humanity, the green-haired Gnome is still standing there near the door. She turns back and slowly settles back down into her chair, her cloak casually tossed over another. The owl hoots mournfully and disappears into the rafters once more, hopefully chasing mice. "I ought to charge a fee for his clearing of mice.", she comments, before grinning at the Halfling. "So ye dance for your dinners? Or is there something... more profitable hiding beneath those loose, yet tight, folds of yours?"
Selia barks a laugh, and settles back into her own seat. "I dance fer fun. And 'abit. Been dancin near long as can remember, feels wrong iffen don't continue. Anyways, do a bit o dis, bit o dat. Most coin from the Guild. Ain't often, but don't take a lot o dragon fighting or wot ta set ya up fer years."
"Were you ever made to dance?", the witch wonders. "You speak of having done so for as long as you can remember. Did you do so once because you had to?" Her eyebrows quirk at the talk of dragons. "Ye have fought a dragon, then?" Xasany's eyes widen. "That IS a feat worthy of respect and coin."
Selia mmmms, and turns slightly, adjusting her top to let the back shoulder slip. On the shoulder blade is a Charnish Slave Mark. "Weren't born a slave, but were pretty young when got caught. Well, more set up, but end were da same. Short version, got free, came ta Sendor durin da war, slipped sides, followed da crowd back 'ere when da war ended. Been pretty content. Couple o' dragons, technically, though were mostly runnin 'round tryin nay ta get killed."
A small range of emotions can be seen in turn on Xasany's face. The first is pity, but that is squashed right quick. Anger follows, but she settles on resignation. "I had a feeling, was hoping I was wrong. It explains the flavour of your accent and choice of words. Did you get revenge? In spades?" She leans forward, resting her chin upon her hand. "It is good that you have found contentment here." Sitting up again, she shakes her head with a grin. "Two dragons, you say? Uhm, I was pretty destined to be on the losing end of that duel, hmm?"
Selia hehs. "Did nay fight dragon alone. Ain't many could do dat. Though da one, Boshter took out pretty straight by 'is lonesome. Tacked it right outa da sky. Fer revenge.... eh. Few blokes would slit da throat given a chance, but ain't gonna serach fer 'em. Charn grinds up da guilty near fast as da innocent, reckon most is dead already. Got me way out clean. Ain't all bad blokes down der, sum work fer good. Group 'elped me out, save up coin, buy out me own contract, free and legal like. Done wot I could ta pay 'em back, but ain't 'erd from 'em since da Mists. Lotat troubles, even by Charn standards."
Xasany nods a little as the Halfling speaks, obviously enthralled now by her story. "That is one way to beat them at their own game, buying out the contract. We don't hardly hear about such things back where I am from. Our own problems in our own little corner of the world. But they seem small, paler, in comparison to what you speak of." She stretches a little, and pulls her feet from her boots, and stretches out, crossing her ankles as she rests her feet on another chair. "And even still, from what I have read and heard, facing a dragon isn't a small feat, even with help. You look up courage and bravery in the dictionary, and you'll find heroes beating dragons listed under them."
Selia shrugs. "Every place got it's problems. Just pick da ones ya wanna deal with. Might be one thing iffen went lookin fer a dragon ta pick a fight, but can't say ever went seearch fer one... wait, no, dat ain't right. Were one time did go lookin, but dat was fer a Silver ta ask fer 'elp, nay ta fight it. Didn't find it, so near forgot. Most times just pop up when ain't expectin it."
"Yeah, I suppose every place does have its problems. Even here. And it doesn't matter which ones you choose, just pick a fight you can fight, yes?" The Gnomish woman rubs a cheek and waves at a serving girl to get herself an ale. "I honestly hope I never run into any dragons, either good or evil. It'll be quite the day, I think."
Selia nods. "'ope fer da best, prepare fer da worst. Good dragons ain't so bad. Too many fangs 'n claws, but usually friendly enough. Many is old and grumpy, but dat sort usually keep ta demselves, so see much 'o 'em. Sorta dat comes 'round 'ere tend ta be more social like."
Xasany nods and stretches once more. "Hmm, just like any sort of violent situation, hope for the best, prepare for the worst. Have your armored folks up front. I think I would be terrified if one was looking for me." She chuckles and shakes her head. "Still. Dragons can make even giants look small."
Selia nods. "Some. Is tiny ones about. Dragon-kin, I guess. Fey sort. Couple over wit da wizards, perch around like cats. Likely couple magiced up like people, learnin wizardly stuff."
"Oh? Catsized dragonkin?" Xasany grins. "That doesn't sound so bad. So you've seen them then? Where?" The green-haired Gnome yawns then and shakes her head. "Oh. I'm sorry. Had quite a bit of ale today and I am feeling quite sleepy. Have to say, this has been a pretty fun end to the day. I am glad to have met you, Selia. Bit of a kindred spirit feeling here."
Selia grins. "Wizard tower, over at da College. Or 'Society' I guess it is now. Dey got all sorts of stuff. Just don't venture nta da cafiteria if ya ain't feeling adventurous." She grins. "Glad ta be met. Always good meetin new people."
Xasany nods and slowly stands. Slipping her feet back into her boots, and pulling her cloak over herself lazily, she clears her throat. Her owl returns a moment later, perching on her left shoulder. "Be well, and see you again soon. Rosie's place, you said? I think I would watch you dance and cheer you on, some time." The green-haired witch heads towards the exit for a second time.
Selia nods. "No set schedule, but ask around da Low Market, most blokes know me. See ya 'round!"
Xasany has left.