At the Ox

Tenebrae - Sunday, January 13, 2013, 8:55 AM

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-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* A06: 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.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-- Contents --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

Azog            A huge male orc with long black hair in a topknot.    3m   1h
Lash            Oruch woman, armored and carrying a drum.             2m   30m
Mikilos         Tall male dawn elf, rosey blonde and handsome.        0s   37s
Sandy           The HIPpest elf ever. Practically a HIPpy.            1m   4d

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Azog grunts at the mention of the Vrorag. He'd heard a bit about them, and didn't like what he'd heard. Apart from the grunt, he listens quietly as Sandy goes over parts of her exploits that didn't make the stageshow. He looks surprised to be offered Lash's mead, but nods gravely to her and accepts it, taking a sip as she asks the question, and glancing back to Sandy for the answer. His eyes widen as Sandy replies, and he wonders, "How do you fight enemies when they are so large? What strategies, what tactics?"

The Ox-Strength Tavern, as scummy and smelly as it has ever been, filled with those who only marginally fit into the category of "people", and even then only because if they didn't, the barkeep couldn't serve them alcohol. The place is fairly packed, every table home to at least one lowlife, usually more. There is a corner where there is less of a crush of stinking flesh however; Sandiel has a little bubble of space around her where even the cutthroats fear to tred.

The elf has company however, Lash and Azog having joined her at her table; the female Oruch sipping ale while the other two drink mead and discuss some foe or other. "Bigger." Lash sounds surprised or impressed, or maybe both. "Yes, how is that done?" she then echoes Azog's question.

Ah, the Ox, where the teeth are few, the braincells fewer, and the baths the most lacking of all. But even the dimmest thug can learn a painful lesson, and so the average elf is left alone. Far too much magic between those pointed ears. So it's with only mild caution that Mikilos strolls into the tavern, peering around a moment before heading towards the best smelling table. Which is to say, the one with the Adventurers. Geting caught in the rain is -like- a bath.

Azog nods a greeting to Mikilos as he arrives. The elf will note he has a new tower shield across his back, gleaming brightly enough to make the polished steel armor he wears look dull. He drinks mead and listens quietly as Sandy holds forth.

"Uh. The way I fight them is to not get hit," answrs Sandy, dryly. "That always helps. Truth be told, I was never to to toe with them so I can't help you there," she shakes her head. "But there's really only so much they can do. One, they're kind of slow. They're powerful, and they can *charge* hard. And they will. Their strategy tends to be to hit you with the bulk, then smash you into the ground once you're there. Truth is, though, you just want to not get hit. At all."

"Bait and range, then? I feel sorry for the bait," Lash remarks, taking another sip of the nasty ale, then glancing to Mikilos as he joins the group, briefly sizing him up before looking back to Sandy for more details.

Mikilos returns the brief accessment before taking a seat without asking, nodding polite greeting to those gathered. "Not getting hit is a good stragety all the time. What particular foe are you talking about?"

Azog nods gravely to Sandy. "A good strategy," he agrees, but nods at what Mikilos says. "I use it, myself," he allows. "Though I'm not always successful." He glances to Lash, and then adds, "Though this may be because I am generally the bait. Still, I can take a hit, or deflect it, better than many."

"Not always, no. Can't be. When there's more than one, especially, and there's almost alwyas more than one. Be glad you've never met them and that they're rare enough. The product of a demonic experiment on the blood of the Jotun is bad to start with." She slrps down the rest of her mead, Sandy does.

"And then make them regret it?" Lash prompts of Azog, then back to Sandy. "I will hope to never meet one, unless it is while I am surrounded by men and women of strength." Like the elf hero, her tone implies. Apparently bardic charm-school was good for /something/. Then, she takes another gulp of sour ale. Blech.

Mikilos murrs softly, glancing around for a member of the waitstaff. "Usually I'm in support of experiments. But not when demonic essence is involved."

Faraday has arrived.

Azog frowns at Sandy's comment. "I do not understand why people continue to do such things. It never ends well. Though I suppose not ending well -is- their intent." He snorts to Lash, and says, "I have considerable training to undergo before I can make that claim. Generally, /other/ people make them regret their choice of career. I simply hit them hard enough that they don't ignore me. Or try to. There was one fight, some months ago, where I wasn't able to draw the enemy's attention, and they almost killed an ally of mine. She was saved in the end, but it was a matter of concern. She fought wildly, with no thought to defense, and so she was defeated, though she wore him down enough that I could finish him."

"'Course it never ends well. It's not supposed to. Anyways," says Sandy, "I should get going. Work to do. I'm sure you'll all be just fine drinking yourselves into a stupor without me." She flashes a grin at Lash and Azog, then snorts.

Sandy goes OOC. Sandy has left.

The female Oruch lifts a fist in Sandy's direction - not a threat, a gesture of goodbye apparently. Then, she finishes draining her mug of sour ale and sits back, considering her next options. "What enemy was that?" she wonders of Azog.

Mikilos looks to Azog himself, curious the tale. And failing to find a waitstaff just yet.

Considering that it's best not to start a fight or get into trouble where you are staying, the little Artificer has decided to find a different tavern to haunt. Although her choice might be questionable, a quick glance within shows that perhaps some of the patrons might not mind her weird ways. Smiling brightly, Faraday slips in, letting the door swing closed behind her and meandering towards the table Azog and Lash are sitting at. Upon coming near enough for conversation, she asks lightly, "May I join you?"

Azog gives Sandy a /look/ at the mention of drinking into stupors. Well, she knows how he shares her opinion on that matter. Turning to Lash and Mikilos, he says, "I don't recall who they were. It was some mission from the Guild, and we had split up. We were looking for evildoers in some building or other, and I lost track of the group as they climbed up stairs. She and I wound up on one floor, and came on the enemy. She, I think it was Sonja, one of the giant-kin, huge woman, as tall as me, and nearly as strong. She tore into them, but they struck her down. Luckily, I was there and was enough of a nuisance that they couldn't finish her off."

With a hint of surprise, Lash's attention lifts to rest on Faraday. "I am not certain it is safe for you to be in here," she tells the artificer, though doesn't prevent her joining the table if she so chooses. Then, her gaze flicks back to Azog. "Defender of the fallen, indeed."

Mikilos shrugs to Faraday. "I've no objection." He nods to Azog. "Sometimes he who wins the fight is he who can hold out until backup arrives."

Faraday gives Lash a wry grin at her comment. "I'm an Artificer. It's not necessarily safe for me anywhere. At least no one will complain too terribly if things go awry here." She pulls up a seat, sitting herself down and immediately pulls out a few things: copper wire, some rather small gears and pins, and a few other bits of metal. A pair of pliers and a screwdriver later and the woman is set, listening to the conversation as she begins tinkering.

Azog offers a nod of greeting to Faraday, and pushes Sandy's chair out for her. He snorts at Lash's comment about being a defender. "My intent, and my training, are as Mikilos says: to be the last one standing. Many of my people will tell you that the greatest warrior goes out in a blaze of glory. But. The last one standing, he can fight again, and again, and again. And if his glory in one time is not as great, he has more chance to accumulate small glory, and learn the skills to become great."

Mikilos blinks mildly to Farday. "No no, they actually get quite annoyed if you set the place on fire. Less so if you help rebuild it again, but still annoyed. Explosions are right out. Setting patrons on fire however, is taken on a case by case basis." Listening a moment, he nods to Azog. "Going out in a blaze of glory is something of a family tradition. Rather why I'm the last of the family line. To stay standing in a blaze of glory is much prefered."

"The artificer can provide the blaze, I can tell stories of the glory while you stand aflame?" Lash offers to Mikilos with a note of humour, before rising from her seat. Time to go to the bar for a refill.

"Damn. Did that story get around already? Sheee-it." Wrinkling her nose, Faraday makes a face. "You set /one/ fire..." she mutters, shaking her head and sighing. Lash's comment does provoke a bit of a laugh from her though, and the woman smiles warmly. "I'll do my best not to cause trouble. But if it finds me it's not my fault. At least there will be someone here who can handle it." Her blue eyes flick to Azog as she grins.

Azog peers at Mikilos, and says, "I try not to stand in the fire. Of glory or whichever. It seems to make more sense." He offers a shrug for the bit about this bar - he's still not sure, himself. "I think it used to be more disreputable than it now is, but a few revel in being thought disreputable. I do not understand, myself." He takes another pull at his mead, but is not in need of a refill just yet. Lash's comment draws a puzzled look. "So, you are building some sort of portable hearth?" he asks Faraday. Her grin puzzles him, and he asks, "I am never sure how it works for others. If I were to fight in your place, I would steal your honor. And .... you are okay with this? This is one of the strange things that confuses me. I would generally let people fight the fights they get into. That is courtesy."

Mikilos's eyes twitches. "Thanks, but no thanks. If I'm going to be set on fire, I'll do it myself."

Faraday looks a little confused for a moment. Talk about culture clash. "Umm... no. I'm building a spider that will walk according to commands fed to it on a strip of copper. That's the general idea, anyway. And I don't mind someone fighting for me. I'm not very good at it. I'd rather someone save my butt than me getting killed, if those are my options. I value my life and I'm not afraid to keep it that way." Tinker, tinker, tinker.

"Could it be the same as protecting a child?" Lash asks of Azog, once she returns to the table with a second mug of sour ale. "If she cannot protect herself, yes she should learn, but in the meanwhile.."

Azog sighs in what perhaps may be disappointment at Faraday's comment. The spider bit perhaps gets past him, though he allows, "I suppose that flies can be a problem when the weather is warm, and if it takes so long to build, it does to get an early start. Are normal spiders hard to train, then, that it's easier to build your own?" he wonders. To Lash, he says, "To call a grown person 'just a child' like that ... well, that's basically where the insult lies, just stating it out more clearly. But a person who is a child would not sit at a table and speak with elders on matters of import. And I have found that people, when grown, strongly dislike being treated as children."

Mikilos nods to Azog. "The occasional exception, but generally yes, people prefer ot be treated as adults." He glances to Faraday's device. "Pre-set commands, or altered on the fly?"

"I'm not a child. I can protect myself," she protests mildly. "I'm just not very good at it! I'm not the type to wage into battle, it's true, but that does not mean I am without resources." Faraday blinks several times, before catching on to what Azog refers to. "Oh, no, not like a regular spider. This one will be able to do things like crawl through holes to deliver small items or unlock doors and such. With preset commands."

"The city has many children," is Lash's casual reply to the other Oruch. "I have never tried to train a spider, though I have heard tell of giant ones that dark folk ride. Surely they would know how to train the smaller kind as well," she muses then, taking a sip from her fresh mug.

Azog frowns at what Faraday says, but reluctantly agrees, "Many have skills other than arms that serve well when facing enemies. But you see why it is a complicated issue of when to defend someone and when to let them defend themselves." Lash gets a puzzled look. "It does, yes." This is to Lash and Mikilos. "And a lot of young people, too. Mostly they are the same, but not always."

Mikilos nods, and shrugs. "Smaller spiders have smaller brains. This usually makes them harder to train. I use magical spiders on occasion, but have never really tried to train a mundane spider. Nor build a complex clockwork. Just simple wind up toys."

A soft sigh escapes the Artificer's lips as she sets her tinkering down for a moment to explain. "Let me put it to you this way... give me time and distance and I'll take care of myself. But if someone came in right now and wanted to brawl? I might be able to get off a hit or three and hopefully either deter them or drop them, but if that doesn't do it I'm out of spells and liable to get seriously hurt. At such a time as that I wouldn't say no to someone stepping in on my behalf." Pulling a small candle from her pouch, the woman slips from her seat to head to the fire to light it before returning.

"I have not found that to be true in the other direction," Lash muses at Mikilos. "Giants, for example. Not known for being trainable." She then slants a look across at Faraday. "I understand. The shame comes from running away without trying to defend yourself at all."

Azog blinks at Mikilos, but can only shrug in confusion. "You know many strange things." He nods slowly to Faraday. "Yes, I understand that now. Everyone has things they are good at, which is why many Guild groups have a mix of people rather than all within a certain skill set. I would be at a disadvantage if someone were casting spells at me. Particularly if he were up on a tower or something, as has happened." He peers at Lash, then back to Faraday, "The part that you do not seem to understand is that I must attempt the fight regardless of whether the situation is for or against me, and without asking for aid. If I die, then that is that, at least I have tried. In a group for the Guild, the aid is there, and it doesn't really count as asking, I think. But the honor is less for not doing it yourself even so. Honor," he concludes, "is not about succeeding in a fair situation. It's about facing the situation you're given."

Mikilos nods to Lash. "Showing yet again that size isn't everything. Though I do seem to recall some tales of very large spiders that are quite intelligent, if ill tempered. Though think they are actaully demons in a spider-like form. Not sure if that counts." He nods in agreement to Azog's words.

Returning with her lit candle, Faraday drips a little wax onto the table before sticking the bottom in to secure it in place. "I'm not saying I wouldn't try. Just that at the moment not much is like to come of it besides me getting beaten up or killed. I mean, if I know I'm going into a dangerous situation I'll put on my armor and give it a go. I really should test that out..." she muses, her train of thought suddenly detouring. Pulling out a few more small things out of her belt pouches, she warns, "You might want to look away a moment and close your eyes." Down go her goggles to cover her own eyes and a slightly familiar stylus gets dipped into a jar of white powder before being set alight in the candle flame like a miniature sun.

Finishing her second ale, Lash pushes up to her feet. "I will go now," she tells the group, though not where or why so abruptly. A nod for the elf and artificer, a fist knocking the table for Azog, and she seems set to depart.

Azog is one of the people who, when told to look away, look more closley to see what it is they're supposed to look away from. "Argh," he growls as he finds out, looking away a bit late and blinking his eyes. Well, he was warned. As he blinks to clear his vision, he bids Lash farewell, fist knocking on the table in response, though he misses the first time since he'd turned away from the glare.

Mikilos also peers closer, but the elf knows just enough about chemicals to shy away at the last moment. "...that... probably isn't safe. In more ways then one." He nods to lash, raiseing a hand in parting. "That's likely the safest course of action."

Wincing a little as Lash walks away, Faraday calls after her, "Have fun!" Though that may not be something oruks are inclined to do. The dusky woman sighs, putting her goggles back on top of her head. "I'm just fusing pieces together. Until I can earn enough to afford my own work space I have to do it somewhere. And honestly, I like being around people. Too quiet otherwise." She does look a little disheartened though. It seems there's never an easy answer.

Azog shrugs about the choice of workplace, and says, "Can't be worse than what some people do here, I suppose." He sips his mead, finishing the glass and pushing it aside. He gives Mikilos a puzzled look about safety, though he still sees spots in his vision. "Well. Nothing here is really safe. Monsters could come up from underneath at any moment."

Mikilos frowns thoughfully. "Something wrong with the Engineering Enclave?" He shrugs to Azog. "Monsters can be hit with weapons and placed upon the menu. A fact they're starting to learn. Burning metal doesn't learn quite so well."

"I would hope we could avoid monsters bursting through the floor no matter where in Alexandria we go," Faraday mutters lightly. Pulling out another bit of metal, the base for her spider, it seems to already have more of its legs attached than the last time she was seen with it. "I haven't managed to find the Engineering Enclave yet. Honestly, I'd like to finish this first so that I have something interesting to present to them. And I'm being careful!" It's true. The artificer has yet to burn anything down in this town.

Lash goes home. Lash has left.

Azog hrms about the Engineering Enclave. "Maybe they don't serve food and drinks there?" He shakes his head to Faraday. "No, I don't think there's really a way to. If it's not monsters bursting through the floor, strange plants will take over a flower shop and start eating people. Or something else."

Mikilos frowns another moment, but shrugs. "I think they'd be content with the idea. But is you call to make. And yes, is fairly seldom anything bursts up thru the floor. Tend to lurk in basements until someone goes down for some reason."

"I'll be sure to stay out of the basement unless I'm prepared for a fight, then," Faraday offers with a grin. "I don't know if they serve food or drink there, but I'd like to find out at some point. I'd just rather have it made first so that I have a physical object in hand. I don't know about many other artificers, but I design new blue prints all the time. Not all of them come to fruition though. I'd rather have something solid to offer. Do other people not find it similar? Is it not better to offer something solid rather than something intangible?" Her head tilts, curiosity lilting in her voice.

Azog gives Mikilos a nod of agreement. "Normally like that, yes. But I wouldn't rely on it." To Faraday, he says, "I have no idea how those things work, so I cannot offer advice." He's almost got his eyes back to not all full of blotchy.

Mikilos grins, and shrugs once more. "Depends. But a solid thing is set. There's only so much you can do with it. But an idea! An idea can be altered and changed and mixed and matched and broken down into parts and mixed with other bits and put back together in new an intresting ways. Sometimes the idea is better."

"That's why all my ideas go into a secondary Binder. Little contraptions that can be altered as need be with minor alterations to the proper blue prints." Faraday smiles cheerfully, her face lighting up talking about her craft. Whether or not she can hold her own in a battle, the woman can hold her own when it comes to intellect and the subject of clockwork contraptions. It's a pleasant change to have someone who is actually interested rather than put off by it.

Azog considers what the two say, and decides, "There is merit in both opinions." To Faraday, he says, "You may not know until you go there and find out. But, even if a thing is made, it can generate ideas, and a new thing can be made, then, with the new ideas." He mises, "And the made thing that you have in hand, then, it will show them your skill /as well as/ the strength of your ideas. So perhaps it /is/ better to have a thing in hand than nothing more than a bag of ideas."

Mikilos makes a point of personal pride to know enough about any topic to bore to average listner. Not that he often gets to impart such info. Glancing towards the window, the elf sighs and rises. "I agree there is much merit to a physical object. But I place value on the ideas that come with it. Any case, I'd best be off. I hope to speak with you again later."

• • • TinyMUX Disconnected ***