Dragon's Head Tavern. (Open to All!)

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Moderator note: For Time Stamp purposes, D.H.T. takes place after
Bandit Camp (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=19446) thank you very much.
Time: 10:00 A.M. Standard Althanas Time. Corone. (S.A.T.)
Date: Present Time. Tuesday, January 1st C.P. 1831.

The wee morning hours were a time of business in Radasanth. Business as usual. Runners from local agencies delivered courier packages from place to place, merchants offered their wares, and the city guard was on patrol. It was a symphony of activity and noise. Birds flew through the air, doves and pigeons, dogs barked out loud as they chased cats, it was a cycle. To the eyes of the mutant, it was a vicious cycle. Radasanth suffered under the weight of the villains who currently ran it. Lorenor was not irrevocably a part of the Empire. The Empire's escutcheon still felt extremely uncomfortable to the mutant. However, the gold piece he was earning for the job of working for the Empire was all worth it. Putting aside his own personal beliefs about the rotting apple that was Radasanth, the mutant wandered her streets like a visible infection upon the flesh. Sticking out like a sore thumb, the mutant wore a traditional Salvarn cloak made up of thick hides. He also wore the clothing of the Empire. It was a blue outfit, with the Empire's crest on his emblazoned on his breast.

Lorenor was off-duty now, but he'd grown used to wearing the uniform even off duty. Drawing strange stares from the gathered civilians, the mutant simply ignored and continued on his purpose. He was heading towards a particular Tavern in the market district of Radasanth. Once, his Power Group known as the Red Hand had taken over the Bazaar district and made a fortune when Ithermoss was its leader.

As Lorenor walked through the busy city streets, he checked a map of Radasanth to be certain he was on the right Avenue, Street, and Lane. He double-checked his current position and looked at the various shoppes that were marked on that map. Once he was certain that he was absolutely right in his current direction, the mutant continued forward. The Guard Captain was going to be meeting him for available work. He wanted to be sure that he was on time and ready to go.

With that, Lorenor finally found the building. It was a building constructed in the standard Radasanthian design. The basic architecture was dated post-the Demon War of antiquity. Lorenor saw that the markings on the building suggested that the structure was built roughly in the last century or two. It was a very young structure. Arched windows decorated its walls with the design of the local pagan religions on the window's surfaces. A double door was visible that was open to all. Lorenor observed that there were two sections to the building, an East and West wing. And the building had several visible floors, probably ten all together. These floors including the layers that were built underground. The building was a brownstone. There was an active mail and courier service that went to and from the structure to deliver messages of import to the various patrons within. The mutant noticed some of the couriers wearing the uniform of the Empire. He nodded to these young squirelings and decided it was time for business to go underway.

Walking towards the Tavern now, he noticed a sign overhead. It read: Dragon's Head Tavern. There was the picture of a red Dragon's skull painted in red. Along with two blades positioned so that they looked like an "x". Lorenor observed this for a moment, and walked inside. His advanced sensory array picked up the wards that were in place, and he could see the glowing conduits of energy all over the floor, the walls and on the ceiling. Immediately, his skin began to hurt. He noticed that the pain was not enough to cause permanent damage and that these wards were not the elemental property of choice to effectively harm the mutant.

Lorenor looked around the tavern, and saw that a group of the Empire's Knights errant were sitting a specific table next to one of the windows. They were laughing and talking amongst themselves. The mutant despised his comrades of the blade, but he had little choice in the matter when it had come to joining them. The Corone Ranger would have never accepted a member like he. Sighing, the mutant walked towards the table. He noticed that some of the patrons in the tavern were staring at him oddly. He ignored that matter as he walked confidently towards the Knights. One of the men looked up towards Lorenor.

"Ah. Yes. Squire Lorenor." The man said calmly. "Do you have the parcel on your person?" He then asked and without hesitation, the mutant removed the package from his person and handed it towards the Captain. "Good. Take this receipt back to Fort Augnish when you're ready. You have free time until tomorrow. Use it how you will." The Captain said. Lorenor nodded as he was handed the receipt and walked over to the bar to have a drink by himself.

[Gordie]

’Come here little mousey’ Bottlebrush thougt to himself as he spotted a nice juicy rat, gnawing on some half-rotted piece of cheese. He saw some people walk by it, nearly stepping on it, while he was hiding under a nearby table. With a flash he was gone, and the mouse new it, because it took off in the opposite direction. Bottlebrush was hot on the mouse’s heels. Fixated on the mouse, Bottlebrush didn’t see the mouse go into his little hole in the wall, and *Thump* Ran right into it. Shaking it off, he looks around to some muffled sounds, and starts stalking off, in search of another mouse. Trying to avoid getting stepped on, The furry feline wanders around to the back of the bar, and morphs into his humanoid form. Grabbing a bottle of scotch and pouring himself a couple, he watches the larger grey person amble over to the bar. ”What can I get’cha, bub?”. His own ears twitched a small bit, as if listening for that stupid mouse to come back out.

[Eric Vonterkine]

Heaped upon the four wooden legs was what appeared to be the ribs of a very large animal. Perhaps a cow, or- from the horribly slurping sounds- something particularly succulent and juicy. An elf, in other words.

Then there was a mighty crashing as a particularly hairy head emerged from the carcass, delicious seasoning covering a well-knotted beard. "Not the meatiest bastard, eh?" He asked apparently nobody, before once more submerging in the meaty depths in some sort of barbaric form of an underwater predator.

Another head surfaced from the ribs, one with well cared for hair that was meticulously groomed. "Aye, but what do you expect when you let a manling do the cooking?" A hefty mug of ale was brought before speaker, the contents pouring down his throat before the face dove back into the feast.

Tordek once more emerged from the feast as part of the great palisade of meat fell before his unyielding maw. His belly had become distended, a great round orb filled with meats. "Indeed! And these vessels! They break open like a goblin's skull!" He replied, followed by the crash of a breaking amphora of ale. "Their swill is as good as ogre's piss! Had I known the food this dreadful, I'd have brought something from m' garden!" He grumbled, continuing his banquet. "What say you we get some proper meat after this?" He asked, "I'm sure these weaklings know somewhere to get good meat!" He roared, banging a tankard against the table.

The other head tilted up from meat to look across the table. "Tordek, if they raise the prices again because of you, your paying for all of it." His eyes glanced around quickly, "I must agree though, this ale is barely fit for an orc..." He paused, "Damn your bloody meat, I'll eat what ya put before me. Get me a good drink and I might be satisfied!" The head turn back to the meal, huge hands cramming meat into the gaping maw while tendons and cartilage flew across the table and onto the floor.

The miner nodded, "Aye, but it ain't my fault their eatin' is so weak!" He grumbled back, washing down his meal with another drink of the poor-quality ale. "More drink!" He screamed behind him, his voice echoing off the walls. "And another amphora! They're damned weak, even for your weak craftsmanship!"

[Mutant_Lorenor]

"Welcome back Bottlebrush."

Came the greeting from Bottlebrush's superior. He was a big man, with a bulging belly and dark skin. Clearly, he was a man that originated from the tropical Concordia Forest region of Ruild. Lorenor noticed the big man serving drinks at the other end of the long bar. It rested some seven feet across from end to end. Made of an oak material that was dyed to a black finish, the bar smelled like alcoholic substances. Lorenor watched Bottlebrush walk up to his person and assumed that the strange humanoid was a Gnome, or a Halfling of some sort. Lorenor blinked for a moment, deep in thought, but decided to oblige the strange tavern employee. He looked at the man for a moment, and then considered his drink of choice. He was not in the mood for mead or any such hard liquor, instead, he wanted some hot tea. "Some Jadet Mint Tea would be fine right now. I don't desire a hard drink at the moment." The mutant nodded and was satisfied with his choice of drink. After that, he lowered his hood to reveal his appearance.

After a recent transformation, the mutant had dark-gray skin. From deeply inset eye sockets there manifested a deep purple glow of energy that reflected the darkness in the mutant's heart. Where eyeballs should have been was a glowing vortex of energy. Three sets of angular "v" like slits appeared on his face where a nose should have been. His face was sleek and angular depicting the physical anatomy of those who were Haidia-born.

Lorenor stood at a height of approximately five feet, and judging by his stocky physique, he appeared to weigh well around two hundred pounds. The mutant's hands were covered in gloved. Aside from his standard traveler's gear, Lorenor kept with him a large duffel-bag sized back pack which contained most of his valuables. The mutant also had a worker belt with several smaller pouches and packs attached to them. Judging by the air of darkness that the mutant gave off, it was clear that Lorenor appeared to be one tough customer. However, by the way that the other Knights had treated him, they clearly mentioned the rank of squire.

Nearby, Lorenor sensed a group of large and stocky Dwarves causing a scene. He sighed at that, but kept his eyes in front of him. He didn't have to stare at someone to hear and sense whatever it was they were talking about. He focused on the conversation his superior officers were having, and he was capable of focusing on the conversation that the Dwarves were having. This was all thanks to his advanced sensory grid which now had a twenty foot radius in every direction.

Lorenor looked at the strange halfling and then he looked at the large, rotund bar tender. Assuming that the halfling was a new employee, for Lorenor had never seen him before, the mutant kept his eyes upon the lad. "How long have you been working here?" Lorenor asked. One of the waiters moved to the Dwarves' table. The waiter had a stern expression on his face.

"I must ask you gentlemen to keep the noise level down. It is for the safety of the entire establishment and house rules. Please keep it down. Now with that aside, would you gentlemen like anything further to eat, or drink?" The man asked with a clearly distasteful look on his face. He was obviously displeased by the presence of the Dwarven folk in their establishment. Lorenor heard that encounter too. He shook his head. That waiter clearly doesn't know Dwarves... Instinctively, one of his hands went to a weapon hilt, but he did not draw it yet...

[Eric Vonterkine]

"How 'bout something good to eat?" Tordek yelled at the waiter, crashing a wooden tankard into the silverware underneath him. Silverware that was quickly becoming target practice for his flailing cup. In the future, he fully expected to be drinking out of a proper chalice. Like the big nobles back in the mountainhomes did, but that was the future: Right now, he just wanted a bloody skein of something better than the swill they served here. Yet he was mindful of his manners: To an extent. A dwarf can only be expected to be so polite when confronted with poor ale and even poorer food.

"And what problem are we causing, bub?" He asked with a wide smile, running a greasy hand through his beard to wipe away the flecks of seasoning. No need to look disrespectful in such a fine establishment as this! Well, perhaps not a fine establishment, but certainly one that was build to be a dwarf bar: Highly flammable, plenty of furniture within easy reach, and an abundance of weak-looking serving staff to use as makeshift shields! "We're just eatin', like any hard workin' dwarf does! It'd be nice if the food here was fit for one, though!" He roared, brandishing a drumstick at the man like some sort of deadly hand cannon. "Ain't that right, lad?" He asked his companion dwarf, the only reasonable person he had yet to find in his traveling from Boatmurdered.


The fellow dwarf stopped, hands frozen in place as though the internal engine had seized up. The head looked to his companion, nodding slowly, before slowly shifting his gaze over to the waiter. The dwarf's glare burrowed into the waiter like a team of miners at a gold vein, "We be hard working dwarves, trying to enjoy a meal, though it be a meal cooked by you manlings and your orc piss. 'What be this bout your bloody house rules? Is this not a bar? A tavern? If there be 'rules' against the volume of me voice, then why does I not seem 'em, manling?!" He bellowed, "And for safety, the only thing's safety that be at jeopardy at this here time be my meal and the brewer of this orc piss!"

The dwarf leaves his chair and plants himself in font of the waiter, grabbing ahold of the man's collar and pulling him down to eye level, "I be Zangrim Deepstorm, of Clan Ragefist. Tell me why you think your 'establishments safety' be at jeopardy manling!" The knuckles on his right hand cracked like the breaking arm of a catapult as it tightened into a fist, its owner waited for the man's responce.

[Gordie]

Bottlebrush flushed as the dwarves proceeded to insult the other waiter, but went about his business making the tea for his current patron. “I’ve been here a while.” Bottlebrush said while keeping his attention on the Dwarves. He absentmindedly handed the grey-skinned person the tea, with the teabag still in, pushing it toward him with the scrape of glass against wood. He watched as the dwarf grabbed, the waiter and pulled him down to the Dwarf’s level.
Bottlebrush closed his eyes momentarily, willing his mental energy to form a material bond and felt as though an iron weight were now in his hand. Glancing down, he saw the blue green translucent energy of the blade sparkle with some new weight to it, as he flung it into the Carcass of meat, just beside the Dwarf’s head. Jumping on the bar, he watched as the energy had already started to dissapate, and decided that support was necessary. “I Suggest you stop manhandling the wait staff, and go back to your meal. Otherwise we will have to have security ‘escort’ you out of this establishment. Understand?” Standing on the bar beside Lorenar, the four-foot-three human looked no bigger than a dwarf, but definitely skinnier. But that was a strength belied all its own. ”So what will it be, Dwarf”

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Thing rapidly went downhill. Lorenor saw the bartender jump up on the bar and moved to the next chair. He wasn't about to involve himself in matters that weren't his business. He just wanted a good drink! Then, one of the Dwarves grabbed a man by the collar. Uh oh. Big mistake there fella. Lorenor thought to himself as he drank his tea.

Seeing the potential for violence that was about to ensue, someone sitting at a nearby table yelled in a drunken stupor. "Yeah! By those bastard Thayne, that's what I'm talking about!" Lorenor sensed that the man smashed a glass bottle against the table. People used to say that violence often begets more violence. Once Lorenor saw that the other man broke the bottle, he sighed. Here we fucking go. The mutant thought to himself as he the drunk patron yelled in a wild roar. Lorenor turned his chair around to observe the ensuing chaos that would most certainly erupt after that point. The mutant kept his eyes on the actions of the drunk lad who went for a nearby waitress with rather large cleavage. Grinning to himself, the mutant took a long pull of his tea and continued to observe. He was a Cadet of the Corone Armed Forces and could land himself some serious trouble from the superior officers who were gathered in the room. So far, Lorenor saw no involvement from any of the troop. The Captain seemed to be smoking from a pipe as far as Lorenor could tell.

Then, the girl was grabbed and the fellow with the glass bottle held her against her well. He began to suckle upon her neck. Lorenor sent a worried gaze from his position to that of the unfolding situation, and then back to the Guard Captain. Lorenor subtly saw the Captain raising a fist, which meant halt in layman's terms. Catching the hint, the mutant drew his Prevalida Dagger but made no movements to defend or support either of the parties. Then, it began.

A man that was sitting at one of the tables yelled an abrupt yell. "I want my fucking order!" Revealing a steel rapier, the man attacked a nearby waiter sending the blade through the unsuspecting man's chest. The man died instantly, on duty. Lorenor looked at the Guard Captain and the man pointed. Lorenor nodded. The men of the Corone Armed Forces stood up. "This area is now under the jurisdiction of the Corone Armed Forces." The Captain boasted. Someone else reacted to that. "Like The Pyre it is!" Lorenor was already moving on the nearest patron when the fight started. He could see the rapier man removing the sword from the chest of the man that fell, and several other fights began to break out. Lorenor kept his dagger in one hand, and drew the steel Blade of N'Jal in the other. He walked towards the nearest ruffian before they could accost another waiter. Lorenor then proceeded to slash in the general direction of the man's hand. A scream later, the mutant had completely removed the man's hand with his dagger. He then pointed at the man's chest with his sword.

"I wouldn't do it if I were you." Lorenor suggested. He then turned towards the Dwarves to see what they were doing. If things got too out of hand, he would step in on all of their behalf.

[LiquidCore]

A bar fight, how very un-ladylike.

But then, Brunhilda was no mere lady. She was a dwarven lady. Casually, she continued eating the slop they had given her and dared to call meat, when suddenly she realised that the meat on her plate had been replaced by the body of a dead man.
This didn't please Brunhilda in the slightest. She was a diva, she DESERVED respect!

"This is an outrage!" She bellowed, adjusting the rings in her beard. "I demand an immediate apology!"
Instead of said apology, she got a broken bottle shoved in her face. "Shaddap man." The obviously drunk patron slurred at her.

"What did you just call me?" Brunhilda demanded of the man. "You are almost not worthy, but I'll let you enjoy my art for once!" She shouted, before inhaling deeply and releasing a high-pitched sound, that sounded like an 'Eee', but stretched out, and about two octaves higher than anyone with a beard should be allowed to go.

The drunken man with the bottle placed his hands on his ears. "Shaddap, shappap!" he tried to shout, but nobody was able to hear him over the sound of the dwarven opera. The man fell to the ground, the pain which he probably already had from too much alcohol, only amplified by the high-pitched whine of the Dwarven Diva.

After a few moments, she stopped singing, and sat back down. "Damned ruffians, I'd stab them all a new one, but these are new clothes damnit!"

[Eric Vonterkine]

Tordek stared at the knife that whizzed by his head, the slab of meat rocking backwards as he fell silent. So silent, in fact, that it was deafening. "Did he jus' try t' stick me?" He asked, a note of disbelief in his voice.

Zangrim rotated his great head to peer at the quivering blade before popping out, "I think he tried to stick one of us. Too bad he's a poor shot."

"Poor shot indeed!" He replied, "You were jus' informin' 'im of who ya were!" He said aghast, turning to the knife thrower. "Think he wants t' fight?" He inquired, "'Cuz I ain't familiar with how these manlings go about their drinkin' places. Like this noise level bus'ness!" He snorted at last, drawing his pickaxe from the hip holster.

Zangrim grinned before looking back to the waiter and then the barhopping aggressor. "You made a mistake." the dwarf shook his head before bursting into movement

"Aye." Tordek agreed, stepping up onto the table. "Ready?" He asked, looking down to Zangrim with his pickaxe in both hands. Oh, this was a maneuver them took him back quite a few years.

He yelled out 'A,' as his free hand slammed into the waiter's crotch, setting him as rigid as a board. 'BIG,' as he hauled the stunned waiter off his feet and held him over his head like a whaler throwing a harpoon. 'MISTAKE!' As he casted, aiming the waiter for the catch of the day, namely a orange topped fish that threw knives at peaceful dwarves.

Tordek attacked from above at that same time, pickaxe overhead as he aimed for the psion's skull. Obviously the man had tried to kill Tordek, and the distant sounds of shrill screaming were a nice backdrop to what he was about to do to this pathetic human.

[Gordie]

Bottlebrush watched as the Dwarf pitched the hapless waiter toward the him. 'A minor adjustment will send him safely behind the bar. He may be safe, but I'll need to ride him down to maintian my balance.' He took the poor waiter into the shoulder, redirecting himself and the poor man onto the hardwood floor as bottlebrush heard the crunch of a pickaxe burying itself into the bar. He'd landed a little harder on the waiter, but stood up, mentally calling forth the energy to form another dagger. Fully standing, he held the dagger, business end pointed at the dwarf, the blue-green energy lighting the feline features of the small humanoid. Glancing around, he saw the grey-skinned humanoid slice off another humanoid's hand. "Dwarf, Now that you have sufficiently caused damage to the bar," speaking slowly and making sure the Dwarf knew he was being insulted, "do you think, you can leave your axe in the bar, and go with the nice men with the bigger pointy sticks than mine? If not, well, then my pointy stick will have to go through your skull in recompense."

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Chaos reared its ugly head within the confines of the bar. Lorenor moved quickly against individuals who attempted to take advantage of the situation at hand, as the altercation was none of their business. Lorenor stole a glance at his superior officers and saw that they were busily apprehending several individuals who were causing trouble. The dwarves and the bartender fellow were largely ignored. Lorenor saw that as an opportunity to trouble shoot the situation at hand and attempt to win kudos with his superiors. The mutant had recently put down several more individuals and placed binders around their wrists so that the ranking officers could deal with them and make sure they rightfully spend time up in Terrinore Isle. Lorenor kept his steel sword in hand, and dagger in the other knowing he had better equipment than that. This situation however, did not call for such expertise. Instead, it called for finesse and self control. A fist quickly moved into his sensory grid, and the mutant felt as though a brick had impacted the side of his skull. Furious, Lorenor turned to face his attacker.

Then he saw something familiar, very familiar. The man had a square jawline and a thick nose. His hair was black and slicked so that it reflected the light visibly. Lorenor saw that the man wore a black tuxedo uniform, with black sun glasses covering his eyes. "You're the one they call Lorenor are you not?" The man spoke with a heavy Radasanth accent. The mutant immediately moved into a fighting stance. "Yeah so what!? Whose asking?" Lorenor saw that the man nodded.

When suddenly, there was a high pitched scream in the air. The mutant's hyper-sensitive grid caught the sound and he groaned agony, as did the man before him. Within a certain radius of the female dwarf's sudden attack, everybody was clutching at their skulls! Lorenor went down on one knee as his brain felt like it was literally scrambled with a fork and knife combination. Clutching the side of his head in pain, he felt as though his skull were going to explode.

Lorenor gritted his teeth and felt the Living Dark take over. He blanked out for a split second, and finally, reality set back in a full minute later. He was on the floor at that point, and someone was dragging him. "Fuck!" Lorenor yelled as he finally came to. He'd managed to keep an instinctive grip on both of his weapons and prepared to move against the man with the suit. He turned quickly and pivoted, so that he faced the floor, did a push-up movement and broke free from the man's grip. "You shouldn't have done that!" The man in the suit said. Lorenor shook his head. "You get one shot at this friend, then you're going down!" Lorenor yelled as he prepared to fight back against the member of the organization. "Boss Rodriguez wants to speak to you Lorenor. You're coming with us!" Then, Lorenor felt the presence of two Knights brush up against his sensory array and he grinned. "Like hell he is!" Lorenor could see the look of frustration on the Syndicate Agent's face. He saw as the Agent reacted by suddenly whistling, and several more men with uniforms showed up. "Looks like you're doing this the hard way then."

"The Syndicate can kiss my ghoul ass!" Lorenor yelled...

***

Meanwhile, the waiter reacted as he ate floor. What the hell is this, I'm just trying to do my job and those arrogant pieces of turd attacked me?! Oh yeah, management is gonna have a field day with this one... He thought to himself as he stood up and evaded the Dwarves' incoming attack. Drawing a steel rapier, the waiter prepared himself for the defense when suddenly, the bartender placed a big, meaty hand upon the man's shoulder. "Back down son, this is getting out of control." The bartender said. Let them Coronian Officers deal with this. Syndicate people are here." The bartender turned to look at the Dwarves. There will be another day. He thought to himself, and left with the waiter and other members of the staff, leaving bottlebrush behind.

Syndicate members arrived, at least thirty of them of various levels of power. Several of the Syndicate members drew flintlock weapons imported from Alerar and prepared to attack the gathered crowd. "Sir! We got incoming!" Yelled one of the Knights. And the Guard Captain cursed loudly as he stared at the unfolding situation. "Shit! You two, get back up!" The man yelled and two of his Knights jumped through nearby windows. The Guard Captain drew a weapon made of Mythril, masterwork in quality and walked towards the nearest Syndicate member. Within a matter of seconds, the real battle began. Several Syndicate Agents moved in on the group of Dwarves drawing various implements of death. Swords, Crossbows, and other weapons were drawn. A certain Agent made it up to Bottlebrush's position and sent a powerful fist strike in the general direction of cat-boy's face. There were four-five Syndicate Agents moving against the group of Dwarves. One of the closed prepared to attack Zangrim and Tordek.

One agent sent a sword-slash, with a weapon made of green-plynt against the female Dwarf's head in an attempt to end the battle quickly...

Boys, feel free to interpret the Agent attacks as you see fit. Keep in mind the Agents are stronger than you all and are meant to be a distraction. Just go with everything and have fun!