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The World's End Tavern

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"Indeed, it has. The night has been... Oh, how shall I put this lightly?" Damien answered as he brought his hand under his chin and itched it in thought for a moment before grinning at Trygon once more with a devilish glint in his eyes. "Delightfully sinful." He said before chuckling a darkly entrenched laugh. "In the meantime, I'd like one of your finest whiskeys, my good man. I'm feeling rather festive this evening." The demon spoke once again before leaning back into the stool, propping an elbow on the backrest, smirking away as if he had not a care in the world.
 
"Sounds like a good time. Here, try this, you may like it."

Trygon passed him the bottle of honey whiskey, not bothering with a glass, and grinned around the cigar. He glanced briefly at the other two people in the bar, before opting to disregard them until they chose to make themselves known.
 
Looking at the bottle, Damien soon discerned that this was a bottle of Wild Turkey Honey as according to the label. "Hmm... Let's get a swig of this, eh?" He mused to himself before reopening the bottle and took a mighty swig of it, downing about half of the contents of the bottle in one shot then wiped the moisture onto the sleeve of his jacket, sighing rather loudly. "Hahhhh... Great stuff, if I say so. You may have to buy stock into these." The demon spoke with a fanged smile before wagging the bottle at Trygon for a moment then set it back down on the counter, emitting a rather loud belch that could be easily mistaken for a full grown grizzly bear lowing at potential prey.

"Hah! That definitely hit the spot." He said afterward before dipping into his jacket pocket for a moment and withdrew a pack of his own cigars - specifically Black Stone cherry ones - and withdrew one of them and stuck it the piped end to his lips for a moment. At first, he then to pat himself around for a lighter when he stopped and realized something as indicated by his widened eyes.

Ohhhh... What am I thinking...?! He castigated himself mentally and frowned disparagingly. Once he came to this conclusion, Damien snapped his fingers once, igniting a small flame on his thumbnail which he brought to the tip of the sweetened cigar, puffed a few times then shook his hand out once he was done then leaned back with a smirk as nightmarish blue hues of smoke swirled all around him.

"Hopefully this doesn't bother anyone that I smoke, eh?" Damien quipped with the same grin.
 
"I rather like it, myself. Suppose I should stock up."

Trygon's nose crinkled slightly as he scented the other cigar. He waved the yellow AyC Grenadiers package, drafting the smoke back towards Damien.

"Gotta stop smoking those chinese newspaper cigars, man. But as for anyone being bothered, I think they'll just have to get right the hell over it, won't they?"
 
A shrug was offered by Damien as he heard Trygon's response. "Some like it, some don't. That's about all I got about it, to be bluntly honest." The demon answered with a mouthful of the piped end. "As for anyone else, I'm inclined to agree wholeheartedly. They either have to deal with it their own way or get the hell out of the way. It's just that simple." He added.
 
"Mmmm."

Trygon laughed softly and turned to the assassin, topped off his glass and leaned on the bar in front of him. His tail switched back and forth slightly as he considered the color explosion in front of him. Finally, he spoke.

"I remember you. The ego with a body attached. I do hope you won't be encouraging any further embarrassments of yourself this time?"
 
Thinking back to when he first arrived here, he vaguely remembered the rather embarrassing run in between the rave-dressed assassin and the black dragon several months ago. However, he wasn't exactly there for most of it. What he did hear about was that the assassin got his ass beaten. Rather thoroughly, at that. This caused Damien to smirk and chuckle to himself as he also glanced over to the two of them, pondering over what could possibly come of this next.
 
The bone clad assassin downed his double-shot with a swift and fluid motion before setting the glass down upon the table. He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the honey tasting warmth that flowed from his mouth down to his gut. Red eyes open again he looked at the dragon, "Strange, I can't seem to find you within the confines of my memory." He paused for a moment, as if lost in thought. "Puff? the magic dragon? no... barney? no... damn, I got nothin'."

Vanslaz reached a hand into his pocket and set an object down on the bar, a pink toothbrush. "Here ya go dragonbreath, just like we agreed upon." A half-grin twitching into existence.
 
Trygon delicately picked up the toothbrush, pondered it for a moment, before setting the handle against a talon. He flicked his wrist, shearing off a chunk of plastic, and held up the pointed end between them.

"See this toothbrush? I could take your eyes with this toothbrush. Hell, I could take your eyes without even touching you, but I think the toothbrush would be more fun. Like little shishkabobs, except I've never seen a 'kabob with dangling optic nerves... Well, I'm up for a new experience, if you are."

He grinned again, without the tiniest fraction of humor, this time.
 
"Make sure you bring some pepper along. I heard eyeballs once removed were rather salty. Either that or dehydrate them since they'll be runny as a bastard." Damien piped up with a smirk as he took one long drag off of the pipe cigar then released it through his nostrils nice and slowly then turned his head to the side and released the rest of the brooding stormcloud of cigar smoke into the air above him.

"Your call, really." He added with a shrug as he continued to sit there with one elbow propped up on the stool and the other just free to dangle there.
 
He blinked a few times, sighed once, and looked back towards Try. "As much of a new experience as it might be for you, I've already had dealings with dragons who talk too much. It seems to be a chronic disease among your kind." He looked at the demon next to him and the dragon in front of him, with their cigars. Feeling the urge to smoke as well he reached into a pouch on his side and pulled out a small case, pressing the button it popped open with a small 'click'. Inside was what appeared to be your ordinary hand-rolled cigarette, but the aroma that drafted from them made the herbal substance more than obvious.

"Turns out this planet isn't the only one with cannabinols. So dragon, we can chill out for a bit and resume resume trying to threaten each other at some other time. Or... we can talk some more angry words, get around to trying to kill each other, destroy half the tavern and maybe some of the other occupants as well."

He put an end of the alien joint in his mouth and puffed on it a few times until it started to burn slowly on it's own. Getting a nice even slow burn going he inhaled long and deep, held it for a moment, and blew out a few thick 'O's.
 
"Oldschool hashishan, eh? Whatever works for you, I suppose. You're one to talk about 'talking too much', though. Lord knows I had to shut you up with a half-ton of dirt last time."

Trygon laughed softly, and swiped the tin, collecting a smoke of his own. He sets the cigar aside, flicks the small cylinder skyward, and catches it in his mouth. He blows fire between his teeth, looking like an overheated furnace grate, before he inhales deeply. He puffs the nearly opaque cloud at Van, and blinks twice.

"I knew a psychic with an inane fondness for this stuff. Said it was his 'off' switch. Me, I just think it's fun."
 
"OH YES" He nearly dropped the rolled herb from his mouth. "I remember now, Trygon, did the bit with the pit and shit." He grinned and was idly smoking now, in and out. "Seemed to have forgotten for a moment there." He looked at the dragon again, studying and trying to gather what he could. "Well, I'm fairly sure you are at least some class of deity. I'm also fairly sure that this particular area is your domain. So as fantastically karmatic as it may be to put you underfoot I'm sure my chances of doing that here are fairly non-existent. Come visit Shadoria sometime, we'll see what happens then."

"On a slightly more positive note, I'm feeling a bit bourbon-y at the moment. Line up some shots of Makers Mark and grab a few bottles of Bluemoon and we'll have us a nice strike-out." Van said, smiling ear-to-ear and rubbing his hands.
 
"...You don't do things halfway, I see. Right, well, coming up."

The dragon capped the wild turkey sitting on the counter, put it away, then collected a sixpack of the namesake beer and a bottle of Maker's Mark. He set out six shotglasses, and put the six beers behind them, before he uncapped the maker's mark and filled the glasses to brimming. He set down the bottle, and hopped the bar, grabbing the stool opposite Damien.

"First to three? Ready, set... Go."
 
An arched eyebrow was Damien's reaction when he heard this remark from the assassin as well as getting a whiff of that rather acrid scent of his alien weed from both him and now the dragon. Oh well, he figured with a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head. When in Rome, do as the Romans did.

With a grin at the challenge being offered, Damien set his cigar off to the side then leaned forward in the seat. "As a demon, I'm all for a friendly game of chance. Let's play." He said with a chuckle.
 
Van looked at Damien and shrugged. "If you think you can play with the grown-ups go for it. We'll make it two each then." He took another spliff from his 'cigarette' case and placed it in front of the demon. "It's called a strike-out. You take a drag of the joint, drink the beer, take the shot, and exhale." He waited for a moment to see if this was agreeable with Trygon, or rather to see if he would object before getting on the with the game.
 
"Right. You're on."

He blew a faint flame over the joint to light it, opened both beers, then popped the joint between his lips, inhaling deeply, before he followed up with the first beer, chasing it down with the first shot. He exhaled explosively, spraying dragonfuel across the floor behind the bar. He shook his head and went back for the second round.
 
"Hmph. I've never been one to back down from a challenge before, and tonight this will be no exception. So I hope the two of you have brought your A-game boys, because this night is going to be a night for all to remember." Damien stated before looking between the assassin and the dragon with a grin before taking the spliff offered to him the lit it the same way he done before with a snap of his fingers, releasing a small flame hovering above his fingernail, taking the joint, lighting it once it was in his lips and then took a long, mighty inhale then held it in.

Once it was in, Damien followed suit with taking a bottle of the namesake brew, uncapping it then drank it down steadily, one gulp at a time until it was finally emptied then slid it back. Once it was out of the way, the next task was a shot of the bourbon. With the same smirk, he reached for the small glass and chased the beer down in one gulp before sliding that back next.

Once it was done, the demon exhaled powerfully, releasing a storm cloud of the hashish out of his lungs as well as a thunderous belch of sorts, shaking the glasses and things on the bar behind the counter slightly with the vibrations it brought. "BLEH!" Damien exclaimed then chuckled before looking at the assassin next.
 
Van raised his eyebrows as he took a generous puff and raised the first alcoholic beverage to his lips, taking the auburn liquid smoothly and following up with the shot of Maker's Mark before exhaling slowly. "You know guys-" he was interrupted by a long and baritone belch. "You know guys, Narwhals have horns. Like unicorns, of the sea." He was again interrupted by a fit of chuckling before righting himself and paying attention to round two.
 
"Thought I saw a narwhal around here not too long ago..."

The dragon's mutter seemed more directed to himself then the others, and was interrupted by a sharp inhalation on the joint, before he went back in for the second beer. He completely forgot to remove the joint from his mouth, and it bounced off his shoulder to the floor as he drained the beer. Trygon muttered "Shit!" into the bottleneck and made an abortive effort to snatch it out of the air, before slapping the empty bottle down and mumbling "Fuckit." He dropped back the shot, swallowing hard, before closing his eyes and calmly exhaling the smoke. He reached down and grabbed the joint, popping it back into his lip, before he rose, moderately unsteadily, and laughed.

"Well, that was fun. H'ever, I have pursuits to attend to... I think I need to punch something in the face until it dies. Have a good night, gennelmen..."

With that, Trygon loped out the door and took flight.
 
Ironically, that same fit of laughter was slowly beginning to betray Damien as he then followed suit next, inhaling another long drag of the joint next, then locked it in as best as he could despite sounds that threatened to release the smoke was made from him, causing the demon to jerk around a bit in his seat for a moment before he balled a fist and struck himself in the chest a few times. "Jeezuz Chriss...!!!" Damien groaned out for a moment as he then made the reach for the second bottle, uncapped it next then leaned it back once the mouth of the bottle was in his mouth, gulping the contents down a little more steadily this time around.

After that and while trying to hang onto the inhaled breath, Damien gripped the shot glass next and brought it back to himself before killing the shot in one gulp once again, considering there was a heavy burning sensation beginning to build within the stomach of the demon.

Once done, the second storm cloud was show out of the demon again, bringing forth both the smell of the hash but also a scent of brimstone, as well before coughing raggedly.

"Have a good trip...!" Damien called out to Trygon as he heard him make his exit before coughing once more.
 
"Hmmm... not a bad idea really." Van said through THC induced chuckles. He finished his last strike-out with a small shiver from the substances. Standing up he stretched, shook himself out, and slowly faded into his darker form. Grey-eyed and shrouded in his light-devouring cloak he was the mirror opposite from how he looked just moments ago. "Well demon, seems the dragon has taken off. And I must agree, under the influence the destruction of faces is highly enjoyable. I'm sure I'll see you in the near-future. Until then..." He reached his hand into a small black slit in the air and pulled out a black staff. He nodded to Damien, and slowly started to meld in with the shadows of the tavern, fading into them.

With that Vanslaz was off, going to punch things in the face until they died as well.
 
"Ah good. Shumho', I sink... I think, I mean. That sounds like a great fuggin' idea." Damien slurred before snorting with laughter a bit as he slowly rose next, spliff in hand and stuck it in between his lips before slowly reverting into his more demonic form as a set of wings shot out from the hidden slits in his back. "Shee you on da flipshide, hoomboi." Damien added as he staggered a bit before eventually making his way outside even thought he was talking to himself by now.

Once he made it outside, he took off, cackling like an idiot.
 
Flutterby watched the three of them at the bar for a bit then standing to her full height of a mere five feet walked slowly towards the bar carrying a small bag just large enough for a book.Her eyes still on the dragon tending the bar as he left. " Well if you boys are done showing off now..happen to have any drow blood wine here ?" She would ask walking purposefully towards the bar and sliding onto a stool her silver eyes never leaving his form reaching into the pouch on her hip , extracting a rather unique looking silver toned coin.
 
Softly, the tavern door opened. Around the edge, a head hidden by a grey good slowly emerged. From under the hood a pair of almond brown eyes could be seen along with a lock of shockingly white hair. Deciding that the tavern seemed ok, he stepped around the door, revealing a long and polished mahogany staff and a grey cloak that compleatly covered him past his feet. Setting his staff agianst the wall, he gazed around as he walked to the bar.

Never before had he seen such a strange collection of beings. His homeland, a place inaccessable to no one other than his kind, had no contact with the outside world ever since the anchients decided to cut them off from the world.

So busy was he, taking in all the new sights, he almost failed to notice the dragon who seemed deep in conversation with 2 men, one dressed in what he thought was a very stylish purple suit, and a very strange looking woman.

Wondering what they were doing, he tried to make his way around them, seeking a seat at the bar when suddenly his unaware foot caught floor.

Eating floor, he laid there for a moment, wondering what in the nine hells he had done to deserve whatever treatment he was about to get at the hands of the patrons of the bar. Deciding it would be best to lie there and collect his thoughts, he softly started to chant the spell to summon his staff. Just in case of course.
 
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