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

[Yvonne]

Their fiendish tongue was challenging for Yvonne to make sense of, with the accent - such emphassiss on their Ss's. She concealed her interpreting difficulties with ease, smiling warmly and listening intently. They spoke words that were unmistakable nonetheless, words like 'starting invasion', 'rule Alerar' and a testy statement of 'I answer to none!'. Her mind rapid-fired filling in the blanks. Message received. This serpentine posse wasn't to be trusted, but beside the threat was a measure of confusion. They weren't hacking and stabbing, only talking about wanting to and waving their blades about.

What be keeping them? Fear? Inexperience? Usually when ye won't sheathe yer sword but ye don't use it yer compensating for something...

Her silver eyes descended reflexively to her line of thought, checked for the size of his extremity, and - to her surprise - he was deciding to put it away after all. He held the weapon with an awkward grip but surely enough it slid cleanly into its resting place. That settled the silent tempo of the room down substantially, the chief of the inhuman horde seemingly willing to calm down. The dwarven hybrid sighed in relief.

Inexperience. Definitely inexperience. If this one be their leader and he can barely handle a blade, this pack be in for a world o' hurt.

The last person Yvonne expected to intervene was the cavalier drinking alone at his own table - she supposed he preferred his distance - but here he was, stepping up. She eyed him with a smirking appreciation she'd not felt for him a moment ago, when he'd set his boots upon the table she was definitely going to have to wipe down later. Men will be men though and that's what we like about them.

"Well, now we've decided we're playing nice, come, come - the bar stools be free if yer most interested in drinks, or a table here will accommodate many of ye." The ebony-skinned bartender ushered them inside, inwardly crossing her mental fingers that they could mingle with the rest of her patrons, or at least keep to theirs. Deciding it would be best to keep them more or less under her watchful eye, the bar seemed appropriate. She managed to guide some of them to bar stools, but literally had to steer the last kobold onto his stool while he ogled that gorgeous faun. With a nimble step Yvonne returned to her station behind the bar, ready to serve.

"I've ale on tap of course or perhaps tha honey-sweetness of mead be yer flavour. I've cider and perry, wine and spirits. Perhaps dwarven firewater or an Aleran alky-bomb would tickle yer fancy. I also make a mean cocktail ye'll not soon forget!"

Yvonne whirled clear glasses in her hands like spinning revolvers, eager to begin pouring drinks and getting this monstrous lot knee-deep in booze. That way if they still wanted to put up a fight later they could do it dizzy and inebriated. Alcohol might set a few of their tempers off, true, but it might make them all very happy instead and we could all enjoy a good time, laughing and merry.

The door slammed open and the dwarven waitress nearly dropped a glass, setting them down softly in front of her. Yvonne flicked a dangerous look at the newcomer, squinting. What tha hell be with these boys and putting their boots ta things?!