The Tavern [Fantasy ORP]

---

Lore was bored. Again. Hardly an unfamiliar state for the young thief to be in. He’d planted himself near the door to the tavern and was stretched halfway across the table, idly picking at a wood splinter. His journey to this point had been regrettably uneventful. He’d hoped for something fun to happen. A troll attack, someone rich that needed to lose a few bags of gold, anything. Unfortunately the little company he’d attached himself to had plodded happily along and had left him here, at this tavern, this morning.


Over by the fire, Erin Ursus had claimed the best table and had her feet up on her table, a half-eaten plate of roast chicken near her feet. She was chewing on one of the bones now and kept glancing over to the door, where she’d checked in her battle axe. Being without at hand was a mild irritant but she could deal with it, for the promise of a warm bath and bed later on tonight.

[Feel free to interact with either of my characters!]

Geis strolled into the tavern. The mercenary was bored, tired, and looking for a little fun. He had just been paid and needed a drink. As soon as he walked in he saw an attractive man stretched over a table idly picking at a wood splinter. (Lore) The dark haired man gave the blonde haired man a casual swat on the behind. "Why the long face handsome? You look bored. How about I buy us a round of drinks and try to liven things up?" said Geis to Lore.

[Your Character link and ooc link both go to the character thread.]

Even as a grin stretched across Lore's face, his hand twitched for the knife he'd already checked in at the door. He slowly slid back across the table and into his chair, hooking his arms behind his head. "Good idea. Why don't you get me some of those nice pastries they have too? I'm always more amendable after some food." He practically purred out the words. Lore had never turned down a free meal in his life and he wasn't about to start now. His gaze quickly flicked up and down the other. Attractive in a rugged sort of way, clearly a warrior of some sort and if he was willing to shout a round of drinks, he possibly had some extra coins that Lore could find a new home for.

"Get you drinks and food? Doesn't this place have servers like a proper tavern?" replies Geis. He takes a seat across from Lore. As the words were spoken some nondescript npc like woman appeared and asked what they wanted to order. "A round of ale for my friend here and me. As well as some pastries," replied the mercenary. He paid the woman a few coins. Once she stepped away to get the food he turns back to Lore and said "I am known as Geis, what do you go by?"

"Well, you did offer," Lore said with a shrug but his new companion was saved the trouble of a walk by the prompt arrival of the serving girl. "The cherry filled kind," he added as the girl turned to leave, "those are my favourite."

Once she was gone, his gaze shifted back to Geis and he flashed a toothy grin. "Nice to meet you, Gus. You can all me Alistair." Because he wasn't in the business of giving his real name out to strangers.

"Alistair? Well that is a fancy name. Are you a fancy lad?" asked Geis. He then looks around the tavern a moment, kind of unsure what to say next.

"Do I look like a fancy lad?" Lore laughed and leaned in, resting with his elbows on the table. "My mother had fancy thoughts but I'm from a farm and not a manor, unfortunately." All complete lies but he spun them easily. This was a story he'd told before. "And what of you? You look like you get into a lot of trouble."

"Aye, I tend get into trouble. Handy at getting out of it to. The mercenary life and such," replied Geis sheepishly. The waitress returned with drinks and pastries. Geis took swig to his ale than asked simply,"Speaking of trouble. You know where I can find a lad to bunk with? I'd like some R&R" Well he was as subtle as a sledge hammer.

"I always thought the mercenary life seemed so romantic. Always running around, fighting things, drinking in taverns and being overly familiar with the posteriors of simple farm boys," Lore grinned, grabbing one of the pastries and tearing off a piece. "A lad to bunk with, eh?" He shoved a big piece of the pastry in his mouth and took his time chewing and swallowing. Yeah, this guy deserved a bit of a run around before they got any further. "I'll help you find one. I'm sure there's someone in here who will find you charming."

"I thought it was romantic to until I joined. When you actually do those things they are less romantic, sadly. Except the last one, that is still fun," Geis said with a wink. He grabbed a pastry and ate on. He was surprised how good they were. "Really? Thank you Allistar," Replied Geis.

"I suppose killing things always does sound more fun when a poet is warbling on about it," Lore scanned the crowd around them as he tore small pieces off his pasty. "So then, tell me, what sort of lad are we looking for? Give me some specifics, looks, temperament. Give me your ideal fella."

There is the sounds of shouting and a commotion outside before Geis can reply to Lore. "Sadly, it looks like I have to get back to work instead," replied Geis. He slammed the rest of his ale down then put the empty tankard on the table. "Nice talking to you Al. I hope your night proves to be fun at least." With that the mercenary grabs his gear and exits the tavern to see what all the ruckus is.

D'joo walked into the Taverna, described to her as "Best taverna 'round. Perfect for resting and drinking." by another wayfarer. The mare looked inside; not the worst taver she've seen. Deal. D'joo closed the door behind her, goofily loosing grip with the handle causing the door to slam loudly, capturing everyone's attenction.

Gulping at the immediate feeling of having acted foolishly in front of those experienced eyes, eyes of what surely are warriors and smugglers, she approached the big fire that lot the Tavern's hall, enjoying the warmth that radiates over her caramel fur, almost shining in contrast with her green clothes. Her hooved feets heavily thumping on the floor sounding like she had hammers at the end of her legs, as she searched for a place to sit and rest. Maybe with a soup and a mug of... something stronger.

In the doorway of the tavern stood a sight that was enough to stop anybody in their tracks. He stands 5'5" and has long kangaroo-like ears and a kangaroo-like muzzle with a black animal nose. His body is covered in an orange-yellow fur (roughly the color of strained peaches), except for his tail. His tail is virtually fur-less and is segmented like a rat's. It's gray and long - 14 ½' to be exact. But instead of coming to a point, it comes to a flat end that's pink where it had been cut many years ago, indicating it either was or could've been much longer. His actual species is unrecognizable as he is a hybrid of some sort. He was wearing dark sunglasses, the lenses almost black set into red frames. He also wore an old black straw hat, the left side curling up due to his ear while his right ear was back. He had on cut off denim shorts which you could barely see due to the long robe he wore. It was torn and tattered and looked to be handmade out of burlap. It was tied closed in the front by an old piece of rope. He had on over-sized red and black boots. Around his neck hung a gold cross and on his right wrist was a black braided bracelet seeming to be made out of hair. But he still could've probably passed for someone's gardener - that is if he wasn't covered head to toe in blood.

He was stopped at the door and made to check his weapon. His weapon was a jagged scythe, the handle made out of what appeared to be a twisted tree branch. The blade part was bolted to it. Around the neck of it was a black leather collar with bone spikes. Blood dripped from the blade and onto the floor as well as down the grooves of the handle. As soon as the guard took it he nearly dropped it. It was heavy as all hell.

He was known to some - mostly from wanted posters in other towns - as the Dark Angel. It was not a name he gave himself but rather a name authorities and bounty hunters gave him for lack of a better name. He knew he was wanted dead or alive - preferably dead. He was dangerous in all aspects of the word. Or so everyone was warned. Armed and dangerous. Do not approach. The usual shit. Of course, it didn't help matters almost everyone he came into contact with died a brutal death.

Well, he certainly wasn't armed now. Not unless they counted his boots, teeth, and tail, all of which were deadly in itself. But he wasn't here to kill. Not this time. He was here to escape. He had heard about this place. It was equality for all. So here, he was safe. And at this point so was everyone else.

He made his way over to a table to sit, his boots coming down heavy on the floor as he walked. That was due largely by the fact they were weighted. His tail moved like a snake behind him, leaving a streak of blood on the floor. He got to a table he liked and took a seat. What he needed right now was a hot meal, a cold drink, and a warm bed. And a shower. He could definitely use a shower.

D'joo was sat on a table, still thinking about her potential goof of few minutes before, when one of the kitchen girls carried a bowl of vegetable soup and a mug of fermented wheat. She gulped in anticipation, for so long she craved for a properly cooked meal, without dirt and ashes floating around or even something else crawling on it.

D'joo grabbed the mug, taking a sip. She closed her eyes, drinking ale felt so good. So wonderfully away from the water in her hip flask, warmed by her body and seemingly loosing any drenching power. But this ale was fresh, with sparkles tingling in her throat and tongue; she smiled, deciding to enjoy her stay in the Taver as much as possible.

She heard the door opening, turning her head to give a quick glance of the newcomer. She saw it: red and black boots, kangaroo like peachy furred with a mouse tail. "A circus" she thought "A sad circus strutting itself thinking being cool...". she then returned to her soup and titillating, tantalizing mug o' ale in front of her.

As he sat down, the Dark Angel curled his blood-soaked tail around the chair legs to keep it from being stepped on. His tail was the second sensitive part on his body. The first would be his eyes. Without his sunglasses, even the dull tavern light would appear as blinding to him as staring directly into the sun. He felt someone looking and met eyes with a horse woman for but a second just as she turned away and went on about her business.

One of the bar maids rushed over to him, seeming to think that he must be near death with all the blood. But she stopped dead in her tracks once she was close enough to see that none of the blood appeared to be his. Other than the tip of his tail he didn't appear injured in any way, and that seemed to be an old injury.

He tried to be friendly. After all, it was a friendly place. He offered her a smile. But, alas, it seemed even his toothy grin was enough to off-put people. The bar maid gasped and visibly shuddered, probably trying to keep herself from pissing on the floor. His smile faded. She inched closer, offering him her best 'remember this is a friendly peaceful place' smile.

He saved her the trouble of asking him if he'd like anything. "Biscuits and gravy, a side of bacon, and a mug of ale." His voice was deep with a bit of a country twang to it, like someone from an old western romance.

As the barmaid left to get his order he got up to head to the washroom to at least try to clean up a bit, his heavy boots once more thundering on the hard floor with each step.

It looked like it was going to be an interesting night. Erin Ursus was using a chicken bone to pick food out her teeth as she watched the hooved woman enter, followed with, well, she wasn’t sure what he was. Definitely not human. She could easily imagine fighting him one stormy night, following a bounty and battling to the death.

She raised her mug of drink in salute to the strange beast that had entered covered in someone else’s blood.

“Welcome,” she called to both him and the equine woman, because if everyone else was going to sit there liked stunned mullets just because two beastlike folks wandered in, then she’d be the one to show a little bit of hospitality.

D'joo was loosing herself in her own little feast if tastes, as she heard a welcoming female voice. She turner her head and saw the bear framed woman raising the mug in salute. Not knowing to whom the salite was aimed to, she grabbed her own mug and raised it to the large warrior woman <<Cheers!>> sporting a friendly smile. In the worst occasion, nobody will just care for her, thought D'joo.

<<Cheers to everyone!>> said her in merry.

Oul walked in to the tavern. Well, stumbled in, to be exact.

Oul stood about 5' even normally, when she wasn't weaving back and forth. Gnomes had not the constitution for liquor and it looked as if it was even worse for half-gnomes. Her brown eyes were wide and red-rimmed as she focused on two people who she thought worked here?

"Pleesh direk me to the bar madum."

Right then and right there she fell over in front of the bewildered serving girl that was still standing before Oul. Oul's nut brown hair was semi-matted and her clothes wrinkled and dirty. She raised a single finger and proclaimed in blurred speech that she was still celebrating her mother's remarriage a week ago. The patrons heard ,"blurbleblurblemurrrhurrrze."

Oul remained on the floor, the tan of her skin just a shade lighter than the floor. Her small and wiry frame had most likely reached its hourly alcohol limit, but damned if she wasn't determined to beat her body at its own game.

She struggled to spill herself from floor to chair.

D'joo was still with her mug raised in the air to call a collective cheer when the last customer arrived in a clear and advanced state of drunkness. Noticing her dirty clothes she fell several times in the dusty and muddy road, out there.

D'joo closed her eyes while watching the chocolatey drunky falling again on the floor after having attempted to state something. The petite managed to crawl on a chair. Hoping to not fall again.

D'joo was preoccupied; maybe the little one has been poisoned... or intoxicated. She checked her sash, searching for a potion to use in case of need.

Sharub said:

D'joo was still with her mug raised in the air to call a collective cheer when the last customer arrived in a clear and advanced state of drunkness. Noticing her dirty clothes she fell several times in the dusty and muddy road, out there.

D'joo closed her eyes while watching the chocolatey drunky falling again on the floor after having attempted to state something. The petite managed to crawl on a chair. Hoping to not fall again.

D'joo was preoccupied; maybe the little one has been poisoned... or intoxicated. She checked her sash, searching for a potion to use in case of need.

Click to expand...

Oul looked up. She looked again. One more time, just to be sure she was seeing correctly.

"You hassh hoovsss..."

This is new, she thought to herself. When she saw the horse reach for something in her cloak, she motioned nevermind.

"I can affoorsh my own drinks...madam? Sir? In between?"

With that, Oul's head slumped onto the table and into the set of dirty dishes the serving girl had been carrying.

<<uhm... yeah...>> Sas the only thing that D'joo said to the choco-praline woman as shenoticed her hooves, pointing them. "uhm...maybe an alcool-detoxicating brew?" mumbled her to herself "Yes. Definitely would help this drunken pouf to at least stay afloat.

She rolled her eyes hearing that her search in the sash was in order to get a medicine were understood as a pityful search of dimes.

<<uhm... madam...please>> Answered D'joo approaching Oul <<And you are...?>>. As she finishes to speak, the female slumps on the table, getting covered in dish-grease and foods. Eventually D'joo wondered about how long that one was under the fumes of alcool, helping the girl to sat properly.

D'joo coughed, clearing her voice, presenting an handkerchief to the fallen grease-covered customer. <<I am D'joo.>> calmly said to her <<i...uhm... noticed your .... well... unstability...>> at thise words, D'joo presented her a little flask with a greenish fluid floating inside <<This might help you to... remove this effect from your body. If is not ynpolote from me...>>

Oul felt her head being raised as if by a magical force. In her befuddled mind she reasoned that this was some great witchy horse that could lift things by magic.

With potatoes and bread crumbs sticking to the side of her face, she looked at the mare with wide eyes. "S'magics." Oul took the handkerchief and looked at the green bottle of liquid with admiration and nodded. "S'more magics."

She unstopped the bottle, nodded with wide eyed thanks and drank it down. For the first time in a week, it finally dawned on Oul what she had gotten up to.

"Shit."

The caramel-furred mare smiled as she saw the choco-praline female accepting her cures without opposing. The little choco-praline of a girl chugged the potion and with eyes as wide as a potato, seemed to have witnessed the apparition of a God or a spirit.

The brownish girl retourned from her trip with a <<shit>>.

<<Welcome back, miss>> said D'joo in a satisfied tone << That potion is very popular in the lands of S'mhyr Noph.>> D'joo giggled seeing the praline girl regaining her control. <<Feeling better?>>

"Hullo! Hullo! Yes, thank you, I'm quite well now, thank you."

Oul looked down at her shambled clothes and wiped grease from her cheek.

"A mess! I am quite a mess. Gods bodkins my hair."

She looked up at the kindly mare and grinned from ear to ear, showing rows of teeth that looked as if too many to fit in such a small place.

"Oul! Pleased to make your acquaintance!"

She grabbed the mare's hoof and shook it vigorously.