Ale and Rain

[Amaru]

Outside the rain has been falling for hours, blown by a cutting wind so it slants into the faces of any travelers approaching from the west. Outside it’s darkening, the sky a velvet expanse with no clouds and the first few stars winking into life. But the stars are impossible to see in the torrent of rain but for the very keen of eye. A chill is in the air out there, too, one that quickens the step of anyone heading to shelter and cursing if it’s not warm enough inside walls. The Peaceful Promenade stands in the midst of the wet weather, welcoming, with yellow light warm as butter in the windows. It looks warm inside.

And indeed, it is warm within. But the warmth makes the smells all the more thick: wet men in wet clothing, ale-soaked sweat, grime, muddy boots, food, perfume, and all the odors each traveler from different nations bring. The sound, too, is deafening, making the Peaceful Promenade aught but peaceful. There’s the rattle of dice, the occasion swift, fierce scuffle quickly broken apart, everyone trying to talk over everyone next to one another, the flow of ale and especially the men who’ve filled themselves with it. One such man—little more than a boy—is a prime example. He’s too thin if a bit tall to hold more than a few mugs of ale. And six empty pints sit next to him, leaving a brainless smile on his face and glazed look in his green eyes. He’s sitting near the fire with a buxom tavern wench, his hand on her knee in a very familiar way. And he’s bragging loudly, so loudly people near him cast looks of amusement and annoyance.

“I’ve slain ‘bout a hundred monsters, gal,” he boasts. “A hunnerd! All them harpies perished on my bow, when I was a helping in the siege of Flan...no, Flannel. Fallien!” He hiccups. “That’s the one. It was little to me, but I bet they’da given me some badge if they’da had the time.” This is punctuated with a long gulp from his half-full pint. The girl looks curious and amused as he speaks, but not too convinced of his tales. Few others are looking entertained anymore. He’s half shouting his story now, making it hard to hear any other words within a good range of him. Not that anyone is looking believable, except for some wide eyed drunk listening to all of Amaru’s fables with boggling eyes.

“Yup.” He burps. “Beg pardon to your ladyship’s pretty ears, but I met a pirate, saved him good. He took me in, we was tight as that.” He tries to cross his fingers, and gives up after a bit of clumsy fumbling. “Then, he was a telling me…he was a telling me, ‘Amaru, I’m a bloody pirate!’ So’s I knew I was in a pinch, see. But he was no match for Amaru, no he wasn’t, when I was a challenging him soon’s we got off the frying pan. Thrust my sword direct through his heart, see!” This is said in a naked shout, and so he continues, his wine-thick voice rising to a near shout. “A dozen, a hunnerd, a thousand pirates perished on my blade!” He continues, growing rowdier and bawdier with every second. Some men are glaring at him, to which he is oblivious. Others have moved away, leaving a few empty chairs near Amaru and a good spot near the fire.

[ OOC: Well, pose anything. There's not really any specific requirement =) ]

[The Glassmaker]

"Any drunkard can slay a thousand men."

A new voice, clear and low and thick with exotic accent, sounded from a nearby table. Sihiri rose, turning to the vociferous braggart and stretching his limbs. He was tired of the noise, the flippancy--

Yes, the man was drunk. But men truly died by the thousands in Fallien--and by the thousands, families cried.

"But has he the strength," he said, approaching the table, "to drag a slab of glass four miles on his own back through the blazing Blight as the sun beats down, and the searing white sands slur together all around, and his own legs feel charred to ash, with the sole assurance that he is protecting his people?"

He withdrew Mwiba from within his linen cloak, slapping it on the tabletop with a resonating thunk.

"Has he that strength, sir?"

((sorry if I killed the festive tone...experimenting with a new character ;) But this may end up lighthearted yet...))

[Amaru]

Beer slopped over Amaru’s unsteady hand when the Glassmaker turned his attention to him. The lad squinted up at the man through blurry eyes, as though he might need powerful spectacles to be able to focus on him at all. But trying to listen to anyone besides himself made Amaru’s head swim. He wiped his mouth as the tale came to the end, which left the girl beside Amaru far more impressed by the newcomer.

The girl leaned forward, but not towards Amaru. She looked interested in the man sitting near them, impressed by his near-eloquent words, and compared to the intoxicated Amaru... well, you try to figure it out. Amaru noticed this, and his brow furrowed in annoyance. How dare she switch interest so quickly! he raged. Notwithstanding that the two only met an hour ago. Desperate to get the attention back to himself, Amaru blabbed, “A drunk…ard?” He sounded sincerely confused as to why the Glassmaker would bring a drunkard into his tale. “Slaying men, no, I dunno…” He scratched his shaggy hair.

“But only a fool would carry glass all ‘round a desert!” Amaru said in a slurred but raised voice, emphasizing that with a slap on his knee, so hard it made him wince in pain. He didn’t quite realize what an ass he was being, so he continued, “A fool, aye, a fool! I’m nodda fool, I’ll tell ye that. And strength... what can be done with strength? Strength en’t food, nor a roof over the head, nor a mother or bride, nor a…a…a…pet. What use has strength?”

Amaru blinked blearily, staring down into the last inch of ale sloshing in the bottom of the mug. The whole vein of the other man’s speech had nearly slid past him, but Amaru glared up at the Glassmaker as though challenging anyone to speak on.

[The Glassmaker]

Sihiri smiled. It wasn't like him to talk this much. Perhaps the few sips of beer he'd downed were going to his head after all--or maybe someone just had to put this man in his place.

"A question for the wise," he said, his voice hinting of mockery. He turned to the girl. "Perhaps you can tell us, when you look at a man who has lost his mind to ale, and beside him a man of strong body and will, what is the use of strength?"

[Amaru]

Amaru is too lost to even hear the undertone of mockery aimed at him. Nor does he comprehend the slight at him, of drinking ale—he’s too busy drinking ale. Clearly, his reaction to getting drunk is to get drunker till he passes out. Amaru seems well pleased with it for the time being. The girl sitting beside him seems taken aback that she is asked such a question. She blushes, and mumbles a few words before coming up with a more coherent response.

“Well…right now I think being friendly and interesting is more important than strength.” She looks at Amaru to see if he heard the compliment, and when she sees him staring at his ale rather than her, she wrinkles her face in annoyance. “But all in all, a man of strength is far better than a dumb drunkard who lost his mind. If he had a mind in the first place. A strong man can protect a woman, and work hard to make money, and other things…are you paying any attention?”

Amaru blinks at her, and then looks around. “You sound like you was a talking about two guys in real life. Are they here?”

He turns to Sihiri and frowns. “So you think you are a man of strength, is that the way of it?” Amaru is yet to realize he himself is the drunkard.

[Blackwhisker]

Talkie talkie’s all well and good but lets bring some more life back in again.

Outside; wet, rainy, mucky.. The sort of weather most self respecting so and so’s keep out of. But then Blackwhisker isn’t really one of those, sure she’s rather self respecting but she’s not a so and so. She’s a Skuugra, a youngin’ one but still, that makes her a kind of water dragon and so the water pelting down on her hard scales isn’t really a bother. Nah, the weather’s fine, she’s not really noticing the cold and the rain’s more a comfort than anything else. No it’s the owners to the voices that are shouting after her down the laneway that are a bother.

“Come back ya thievin’ mongrel!”

Skiiiiid, splash, splash, splash!
More splashes and a hiss as Blackwhisker finds herself skidding about in a puddle much deeper than she’d thought with an irate human fumbling after her. Rain slicked scales are near on impossible for the man to get a hold of, even with the Skuugra being as big as she is and it’s with much fancy foot work and a lucky stroke of her tail that she manages to get herself free of the tangle. Loot still in her grasp!
With the loud splash there’s much cursing as the human finds himself planted quite firmly in the mud from the Skuugra’s efforts of escape. Really, what’s the big deal? It’s not like he didn’t have more of the things. He can’t possibly really miss this one that much!
Ah well, onwards!

She needs to find a means of escape, a hidey hole where she can get away from the human’s attentions and eat her meal in peace. Now where to do that? Continuing to splash down short lanes between closed and shuttered building fronts Blackwhisker finds herself approaching somewhere that looks like it could possibly have life in it.. a lot if the amount of sound outpouring from it is any indication. A small slip of claws on mud and she nearly face plants the ground in a moment of distracted thought. Is it really worth risking the danger of a large crowd of two footers to escape one? The Skuugra doesn’t find herself with enough time to really think the problem out much past the one line as not far behind she hears the ever increasingly annoyed human continuing after her. Guess we’ll just have to see wont we!

So Blackwhisker bolts on down the way towards the noise and lights of the big ol’ friendly tavern at the end. Lucky for her there’s enough traffic passing back and forth that the fact she doesn’t actually know how to open doors properly doesn’t come into effect. Adjusting her pace she watches for an opening.
A couple of noisy two footers reeking of the funny stale water stumble out of the main entrance, another body comes from the opposite direction, having just come off a horse they’re attempting to bypass the drunks before they can get much wetter without much luck. Well that works, both parties are distracted with each other and Blackwhisker takes such things to her advantage and bounds through between them at knee height upon all fours. Now there isn’t quite enough room and claws scrabble against cheap material, slashing through and coming into contact with flesh by accident. There’s pained yelps, cut off and regained as a long tail follows after the rest of the Skuugra and whips legs, causing the different bodies to fall over into each other around the tavern entrance way.

Well at least this way there’s a bit of blockage to keep her pursuer back as the three two foots go about trying to work themselves out from being entangled with each other. There’s some quite distinct voices of complaint, one yelling at having his leg slashed, another to having his pockets pinched and the third helping his mate who’d been slashed. Yes, most definitely a hassle for the merchant who’d been chasing the Skuugra to give the thieving monster her comeuppance.

Inside though presents a problem. With the bit of commotion and the sudden appearance of the small dragonish creature with a large rooster hanging by it’s neck in her maw, well Blackwhisker’s brought some attention to herself. And of course it’s not the best kind that can be found in the world. What is it with tavern goers and the assumption that everything that’s not perfectly people like must be evil and killed? Okay, fine, she’s not exactly the most lovable looking thing. All scales, claws and sharp teeth in a very definite spiky reptilian manner she’s not one to win a cuddle contest but come on. She’s not that big! She doesn’t kill people! Uh.. well, not intentionally.. Okay, so perhaps she did accidentally kill those scoundrels that invaded her previous human’s home but that was self defense.. sort of. Anyway, she hasn’t done anything of the sort recently and she doesn’t eat people unless they’re dead already! Too much of a hassle to be honest. Maybe when she’s bigger.. but right now she’s not a threat so stop automatically assuming she’s out to kill ya all!

Okay.. so the dead chicken and the blood dripping down her chin doesn’t help either. But still!

Anywho.
The Skuugra’s sorta cornered here, she can’t go backwards, the three she’d bumped into to get into the tavern are still squabbling and over their voices she can hear the merchant farmer she stole the chicken from and two of his friends. Then in here after a quick glance we’re seeing less than friendly faces. Wonderful.
A quick scan over what’s available tells her she’s not seeing any good way out either.. sooo what to do.
With water dripping off her hide, claws skitter against the hard wood floor trying to keep purchase as she sidles a bit to the side so as to at least get out of the direct line with the tavern entrance. No point keeping herself in the line of fire with the first known protagonist while she tries to figure her current situation out.

[Amaru]

At the sight of Blackwhisker, the tavern wench sitting beside Amaru gave a little squeak and hurried off to find a more agreeable spot in the Promenade. Amaru seemed startled by the sudden departural of his better companion, and stood up to go after her, only to stumble a step and sway dangerously. He sat back down with a defeated thump on the bench, and leaned against the wall as though it was the only thing holding him up. The boy stared after her, mournful as a puppy, but soon lost all interest in her as she sat close to a man and put her arm around him. He turned back to his current company and found a very startling sight.

It wasn’t human that was for sure. “Not a dwarf nor a dog…” he mumbled, as he squinted at Blackwhisker with a most unintelligent look on his face. “Elf? Ogre…no, they’re larger. I might be drunk.” He finally acknowledged this, mostly because a dragon had been set right before him. He made a face at the blood on her chin though, and squinted down at the chicken in her arms.

“D’you want me to buy some food for you that’s not alive?” he inquired wearily of Blackwhisker, though with a small belch. He squeezed his eyes shut, but whether from being drunk or seeing Blackwhisker was hard to tell. “Being a man of strength, it’d be a...strength…I mean, strong thing, doncha think? Um...” He gave Blackwhisker a bleary inspection. “...lady.”

[Taskmienster]

This thread has been siting for over a month and a half. Since no response has been made to create activity I am going to be moving this. If you would like it to be reopened please feel free to PM myself or another admin and they will be able to move it for you back to the Peaceful Promenade.