Wisp4
Tenebrae - Wednesday, February 10, 2016, 8:12 AM
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* 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.
Mila is sauntering into the tavern with a look on her face. She's the sort of person that seems to have a chip on her shoulder, even though her movements are a bit clumsy and seem to shift from, "Wannabe thug" to, "Angry princess". As she approaches the bar, she pauses and then says, "...What here isn't going to taste like moose urine?" with a pause. Ooooh, disdainful AND scrappy. Not a good combination. "In my experience, there's two kinds of bars. Those that serve something that will make you get hammered in no time simply because their alcohol tastes good, and places that serve the aforementioned swill. Now, I don't want to judge right away so... Tell me what your patrons like?"
Hey! Hey look! Hey! Look! Oooo! Look! Hey!
The voice is tiny and high, chiming like a crystal bell, like some sort of fairy. Exactly like some sort of fairy. A snow fey, a little wisp of snowflakes, faintly blue, occasionally taking a humanoid form. The little fey hovers around Krom, trying to draw the northmans attention to... well, just about everything, really. It's quite excited.
The northman, for his part, sits at the bar proper, head in his hands, idly rubbing at his temples. Don't get mad at the fairy. Don't get mad at the fairy. Do NOT get mad at the fairy. Oh good, a distraction. He turns his focus towards Mila. "Neither. Doesn't taste good. IS no taste. Just the explosion inside you head. Well, also have swill, for the cowards."
It's then that the tap of wood can be heard, and the door of the tavern opens, and in walks something that is entirely not human. In fact, it's reptilian. Silver scaled and fairly tall, the reptile has a sling on it's front, but it's actually followed by a wolf pup, who seems to be rather content to follow the lizard into the bar, but it looks around warily with it's ears back, like it's not comfortable here at all.
The silver looks towards the woman being loud and he shakes his head. "Bowl of water, some foul water for myself, and two helpings of meat." The silver says as he looks for a table.
Pausing, Mila looks at the wolf pup. OMG PUPPY. And yet, she has to retain her composure as she has to look tough in her own mind. Glancing back at the tiny fairy, she then pauses. "...Hello?" she says at the fairy. "I didn't know any of you kept fae around here. But then... I'm new, so." and shrugs. Looking the northman up and down, she then extends a hand gingerly. "...Mila." she says.
Emmet Oxley, currently serving as bartender, which is to say he collects the money, has been staying at the far side of the bar, away from the scary little magic thing. He's an Oxley, and Oxley's don't fight anything that might actually be dangerous. But, there's a promise of money, and that sort of promise draws Oxleys like... like... like ooze towards moisture. "Uh... most of 'em like a good fight. But we got ale if ya got coin." He eyes the dog, but, well, money. So a bowl of foul water, a bowl of even fouler water, and two bowls of some sort of brown stuff that might be meat based.
Hey! Look! Hey! Hey! Look! Looook! The fae circles the cub, facinated for all of ten seconds, before flitters off towards an empty ale mug, just as excited.
Krom sighs, and clasps the offered hand in a firm grip. "Krom. Little Wisp not from here. Is from Mestnoor. Does not go home." The northman sighs deeply. "Many days. Still, not go home."
The bartender looks at the sith like he's grown a second head, before the silver speaks again. "Foul water is.....al....co....hol." The silver says slowly before the pup begins to growl and bark at the fae circling it. The larger lizard thumps it's tail, which gains the puppys attention immediately, and even a wag of it's tail. "It is familiar. Smell it's scent......" He then sniffs the air...which the pup imitates immediately....and it calms down. "Greetings, Krom. It isss rare I visit the city." he then peers at Mila.....and looks to her. "Shaman Durrankar, one of the keepers of Mictlan."
Dire Wolf has arrived.
Krom sits at the bar proper with Mila, Durrankar, and a wolf cub. The little fey flits around, circelign back to Krom. One of the Oxley (they're terrible people) is acting as bartender. Which is to say he's trying to get money for the least amount of effort possible.
"Mila." she says, to Durrankar. "Just a passing healer, maybe ne'er-do-well depending on who you ask. Doesn't matter to me much."
Krom mmmms. "Perception matters much, good or bad." He eyes the Oxley with a level stare. "Mug of ale for the Silver One. Good ale, not watered down. Two shots BlackPowder Whisky for lady and Krom." He frowns a moment as the fey hovers before his nose. "And bowl of snow for little wisp. CLEAN snow. Not more of yellow stuff." A fhandful of coins on the bartop sees the order being filled, more or less accurately, if not exactly with clean glasses.
GAME: Mila rolls Fortitude: (7)+0: 7
Picking up the whiskey, Mina swirls it about in the glass and sniffs it... Before downing the shot in one gulp. It's what you do with shots, plus she figures it'll help the nature of the heavy alcohol in a, "Bite the bullet" kind of way. And then the volatile feeling in her throat and the weight in her gut as she blinks and tears up a bit. "...Not... Not bad..." she says, and then coughs a bit though she does look fairly dizzy as well.
Durrankar looks towards Oxley and sniffs at him. "Mmmmm....the scent of a person who wishes to sit and not work. Lazy." he says as the food gets there, as well as the drinks......the water looks a little....different, but it's clean, apparently. he takes it all to a table and sets the water down on the ground, which the puppy comes over and laps it all up. Durrankar drinks the ale...then belches out flames. "Spicy." he says before he starts to eat....and the puppy seems to be watching.....as the silver takes out a bit of the meat...and holds it in his hand to the pup.
Krom eyes Mila with a small measure of respect. She's still upright. Raising his own shot in a casual toast, the northman tosses it back, and blinks, hard. "Mmmmm. Strong drink." Remembering to breath again, he picks a rock out of the bowl of mostly fresh snow, setting it upon the bartop. It takes a few moments, but soon enough the little wisp flits over, diving into the snow with joy.
Oooooo! Hey! Look! Ooooo! Hey!
"Y-Yeah..." Mila chokes out between tears. "I think I'm... Not so hardened as I probably thought. Maybe." she says, laughing nervously before she rocks a bit on her stool and then falls backwards onto the floor with a cry of surprise. "I'm OK!" she says, holding her hand up in a thumbs-up gesture.
Perhaps the smell of meat is stronger than the stink of laziness, fermentation, and refuse. Another lupine enters the tavern, though this one is no pup. The white-pelted dire may barely fit through the doorway she lumbers through.
Durrankar hrfs at Mila as she thunks on the floor. "When you are disoriented, the floor is the best place to be, so you cannot hurt yourself." he says as the pup licks his hand clean. Then the door opens and a familiar scent brings Durrankar's snout up......and the pups. the pup immediately barks and bounds for the wolf, wagging it's tail frantically, while Durrankar thumps his tail. "Greetings Uneth. I don't suppose you're here looking for your pup?" he then raises a claw. "More meat.....and the better quality it is...the more I'll pay."
'Pay', the magic word for an Oxley.
The little wisp darts towards the big wolf, chiming cheerfully. Though it does that to just aobut anything, really. The bowl of snow is mostly empty, a fair big having melted. The rest? Eaten? Drunk? Who knows.
Krom looks towards the ne arrival, raising a hand in greeting, the other quickly grabbing the barr to keep himself from going over as well. "...cider. Krom think cider sound good about now."
"Wh-What's with the /wolf/?!" Mila asks, standing up as she takes a step in an odd direction apparently a bit dizzy. "Easy, easy... Nobody's here to hurt you..." she says towards the wolf, slowly approaching. "We're not food..." she explains, apparently thinking that the wolf is on the edge of attacking.
Dire Wolf turns her snout towards the one least familiar and offering platitudes. She snorts. "I know you are not food," she growls, albeit intelligibly. "Why do humanoids assume they are some treat, that all can't wait to tear a piece from their flank?" She turns towards the silver Sith. "I was curious where she and her mentor had gone, and surprised when your scents led here." The wave and flitting fey receive a dip of muzzle in acknowledgement.
Durrankar says, "The little one had to experience people. The rowdy and the quiet." He says plainly as his attention goes to the wisp. "Apparently that wisp likes snow." He says before offering a bit more chewed meat to the pup, which should bring her running. "Let her explore things, mark new territory, say she was here, and more." he then hrfs. "She kept up reasonably well......for a runt." He then hrfs and thumps his tail."
Krom mmmms. "Big wuff is good wuff. No worries." The northern man blinks hard again, the whisky still taking it's toll. "People is soft and meaty. No fangs. No claws. Prey species." He frowns, and silvery blades flash in the dim light. "Or so dumb monsters think."
Blink. Blinkblink. "...There's something I'm missing here, because I don't usually hear wolves talk." she observes, then looks back to Krom. "Wait." she says, "Were there drugs in that shot? Am I hallucinating? There'd better not be flying polka-dot horses next."
"Only the weak or foolish become prey," the wolf shares her opinion on people. One which is not so terrible. She then watches the pup gnaw upon meat and/or explore with eyes, ears, and nose. "She should explore and learn... so long as she is past bonding. She must trust family, but be wary of others." For the moment, it appears to the moth wolf that that period for the pup did, indeed, already pass.
Krom hesitates, and eyes his empty shot glass suspiciously. "Krom pretty sure no hallucinogens. Just booze. Pretty sure."
Durrankar says, "yesss....She knows family...and she is already wary of others." he then tears off another large hunk of meat for himself. "She has already learned how to eat, even without teeth." he then looks to Mila and hrfs. "She is right. only the foolish become prey. The weak will die, one way or another." and Uneth knows Durrankar has a very narrow outlook on 'weak'."
"Hey!" Mila says, frowning. "I'm NOT weak, don't try to call me that." she notes, folding her arms in a defensive posture. "Besides, /I/ have practical skills. Healing, skullduggery, even some arts of persuasion. Which one of you has anything worthwhile like that?" she asks. Seems like she's getting competitive.
Krom wobbles, and snorts softly. "Krom wonder how many pieces you like to be in before hit the floor. If run out of fingers, use toes. Krom count good." The northman wobbles once more, then faceplants into the bartop. The tiny fey settles to strike a victory stance upon his head.