KOBOLDS ... in a pub. Open tavern thread.

[Philomel]

Philomel smiled over the rim of her own tankard, right back at Storm, her plump lips curving luciously. Eyebrows rose as she watched him staring at her, his eyes filled with desire and temptation.

Of course, he wanted more. Together, had they been once before. In another pub, in another time, but not so long ago that he had forgotten what she could give. Somehow again both of them had ended up in a strange city, in another strange street and another strange inn, sitting across from each other. Storm had some history in Alerar, she knew, but she did not. In fact, she had only been to the country once - in order to destroy a being messed around by science, which she deemed evil. Then she had met, and kidnapped, a man whose existence and powers had been defined by science, the same man who had changed her opinion to consider that indeed this industry could have its benefits despite what her entire life had taught her ...

But here she was again, in an alien world that was not fond of fauns, or priestesses of earth goddesses. Sitting across from a man who was as beautiful as her breasts were big. Slowly, not for the first time, she winked at him, words still not passing beyond her lips at this glorious happenstance of seeing him here. Watching in glee she saw how his body trembled with want for her smooth touch.

Somewhere else in the shadows a being lurked. Not of goat, or of human or dark elf, but of fox. He sniffed the air, raising his white snout high and tilted his head as he watched several small-bodied reptilian creatures lurk in. They bore (like most of the beings here) weaponry of some description, and some had it raised. The first, however, who was a rich emerald in colour and more a snout like a crocodile, lowered his cutlass as he walked in, eyes flashing a fiery gold.

"What do you serve?" the creature - a kobold - croaked. The fox, who himself was called Veridian and so happened to be Philomel's soul companion (quite literally) frowned a little before nudging his face forwards. A black nose pushing from under a bench.

The other lizard-like beasts queued into the bar, eyes flickering around and some tongues darting to taste the air. There was maybe five of them, but from the way they held themselves stiffly and seemed to stare around, Veridian considered they were part of a larger group. Plus one neared the emerald one and hissed, "Mister Gru'Hal, sir ... is this ... are we starting the invasion here?"

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

I wasn't sure quite what the fuck was going on, but I was certain that I had just seen a gathering of serpent like creatures mumble to each other in annoyed, warlike tones and then encroach upon the hallowed grounds of one of my favorite drinking spots. From the road, my eyes followed their bipedal forms filing through the door, one by one; an endless stream of reptilian ranks.

Surely, someone had to be taking the piss?

It wasn't the fact that they were lizards. Or armed. Or stomping around in large numbers. It was the fact that The Greyhound was, unlike the Silver Cup or the High Tap, a quiet place where I could be anonymous for a while and where the regular contingent consisted of a handful of old men with early onset memory issues. It was just the way I liked it, but now all of that had been spoiled.

I had half a mind to turn back down the road and find somewhere else; somewhere quiet. But options were few and far between. The Silver Cup was always rammed, and in any case I was staying there. Never shit where you eat. The High Tap still wanted to turn me over to the authorities after my last escapade there. Anywhere else was a substandard shithole that served poor quality ale and always ended up playing host to unscheduled bare knuckle boxing.

I sighed, flummoxed at my lack of choice. Pivoting, I frowned, and decided to bite the bullet. It would be noisy and surreal, but a pint was a pint and nothing was coming between me and a cold one today. As I reached the door, the noise level had already begun reaching irritating levels and I knew that it was only a matter of time before the drink would break down my already brittle filter.

Taking a deep, laboured breath, I pushed hard against the brass plate and strode in like I owned the place.