At the Sign of the Peaceful Promenade

[Sighter Tnailog]

((This is an open thread, no limitations on joining, no need to PM anyone. No need to have a whole plot, no need to submit for judging, no need for anything of that nature. If you would like, probably every 20 posts or so, to request that the thread be looked at and folks be given a small bit of EXP for participating and remove a bit of GP for drinks purchased, feel free, but be sure to mention that you DON'T want a judging, you don't want the thread closed, you just want a mod to flip in, dole out some EXP, and head out again. JUST HAVE FUN CHATTING AND INTERACTING. And please, try not to start barfights. Or do.))

It was nice to rest your feet after a long day. And it had been a long day, or a few of them. Findelfin had decided to come here on a lark. After getting to Radasanthia, he was going to go about his business, but at the last minute he saddled Pelektar and took them both here, to this place, to just rest before he did what had to be done.

Stepping through the tavern, he looked around...it smelled good somehow, despite the sweat and the smoke and the scent of mead mixed with something stronger. It smelled like a summer's day without any responsibility, wafting gently through life without a care. It smelled like rest.

Sitting down at the bar, he caught the bartender's eye and said, "I'm an elf, do what you can." And the bartender knew what he meant. He poured a glass of luscious red wine and prepared to send it Findelfin's way, but Findelfin shook his head. "No sir, not a glass. I'll need the bottle."

The bartender smiled as Findelfin slapped some gold on the table. Findelfin was not one to get drunk, but before he headed into the forest he needed to spend some quality time forgetting.

[Karuka]

Karuka Tida had had enough of monsters and slavers and boats for the time being. She'd also had enough of Romans, rags, and memories. There was honestly just so much that a girl could take at a time, even BEFORE being set onto a strange new world on some whim of fate.

So, in a move that would become stereotypical of her mother's people...she went to get a drink. Or three. Or five. Or however many she would take and still walk. It really depended on the mood, and the company, if there was any.

I'd ay drink less if there was comp'ny t' be ha'.

She didn't much heed the name of the establishment. What she did heed was the fact that it was well lit and relatively quiet. That meant that there was probably only little chance of people staggering about drunkenly and hitting people with furniture and bottles.

Thank th' gods fer small favers.

The red-head seated herself unceremoniously at the bar, fishing out a couple of coins and brushing a lock of hair away from her golden face.

"A good clear ale," she said to the barkeep. "Aon o' th' strong aons."

The barkeep looked at her strangely...had she been drinking already? But she could still walk well, so he served her her drink.

The Irish lass looked down into the glass before taking a sip, letting the thick and bitter liquid wash over her tongue and make its way down her throat.

It wasn't a bad ale. She'd had better, but it wasn't bad. She glanced cautiously at the bar's other occupant -- an Elf with a bottle of wine. He looked similar to the one that had attacked her a few months back, but seemed to be more interested in his drink than in randomly drawing his weapons.

So far, so good.

Translations

>>>I'd drink less if there was some company.<<<

>>>Thank the gods for small favors.<<<

"One of the strong ones."

[Atzar]

“It’s necessary,” Atzar mumbled to nobody in particular.

It was his escape, his flight from Tel’Han of which the mage spoke. Or was it? All he knew was that he couldn’t take the chaos anymore. Every direction he took seemed to lead to a greater predicament, a more complicated web from which he had to extricate himself. At that point, he just wanted to forget. He just wanted out.

The journey away from his blasted home had faded from his memory as soon as it was over. As far as the wizard was concerned now, he had just appeared in Radasanth. Numbly, painfully, he walked the streets until he wound up at the docks. The first boat Atzar had noticed had been bound for Scara Brae.

An idea formed itself vaguely in the mage’s mind. An hour later, he found himself on that boat, bound for Scara Brae. He didn’t even give a damn, at this point, where he was going. As long as he was headed away, he was going in the right direction.



But that was all recent history. What mattered now was the building that rose before him. The Peaceful Promenade, it was called. Whatever. The name didn’t matter. It was the anonymity, the opportunity to forget for awhile, that mattered. Atzar walked in.

The smell of ale, of smoke, of sweat immediately washed over him. The young, pure, innocent Atzar of a year ago would have blanched at the scent. The miserable, guilt-laden Atzar of the present didn’t care. Somewhere in the back of his mind, an inconsistency registered itself. It was evening, yet there were only two people there. One was an elf that sat at the bar with a bottle of wine. The other was young girl that sat some distance away, nursing a glass of amber liquid. The mage trudged up and sat at the far end of the bar. He didn’t want company. He wanted amnesia.

“What can I get yer?” the barkeep asked Atzar, startling him. He hadn’t heard him approach.

“Whatever,” the mage recovered himself and shrugged. “Something to get drunk with. It’s all the same to me.”

After a long look at the somber wizard, the bartender nodded and ducked under the bar. He came back up with a shot glass and a bottle of clear liquid. “Here, mate,” the man said, pouring him a glass and sliding it over to him. “And try to relax. Your worries don’t exist here, mate.”

Atzar shrugged again and accepted the drink, immediately gulping it down his throat. The liquor burned and didn’t taste particularly good, but the mage hardly noticed.

It was necessary.

[Karuka]

Karuka looked to her right, at the grumpy Elf sitting with his wine and trying to get drunk...and then to her left, at the gloomy boy sitting with his liquor and trying to get drunk.

They dinna ay know th' firs' thing abou' gettin' drunk th' righ' way.

She finished off her glass of ale, letting the warmth settle into her blood before she leaned back in the seat, looking at both of her companions at the same time.

"If y' want t' get drunk, yer ay goin' abou' i' th' wrong way. Y' canna ge' properly drunk wi' jus' a bottle, a glass, an' yer miseries. Then y' jus' get whiny an' weepy, an' th' hango'er isnae worth anythin'."

She looked at the two of them, trying to see if either of them were interested. Likely not...likely they didn't want their dark and moody reflections interrupted by some red-head who thought she could teach them how to drink.

Bu' wha' 'tis th' fun o' sittin' in a bar, downin' glass after glass o' a drink -- an' th' same drink, no less! -- wi' nae any comp'ny but'cher ain darkness? None a' 'tall...'tis ay better t' get drunk while singin' drinkin' songs an' laughin'. Then, a' th' leas'...th' hango'er has some good mem'ries attached t' i'.

She grinned, bouncing up out of her seat and gesturing to a nearby table.

"C'mon...le's all ge' bottles o' somethin', see who can mix drinks th' bes', an we'll figure ou' a few good drinkin' songs. An' if either o' y' get weepy drunk on me, I'll hitcha. 'Twill ay be a gran' time t' drink t'gether an' be cheerful than t' drink alone an' ha' nary a person t' hol' yer head o'er a bucket."

She gestured to the barkeep. "Gimme a pitcher o' an oak cured ale, aged b'tween dha...umm...two...an' five years. An' a good aon...thick, bu' nae too thick." She put some more gold coins on the table and then grinned at the two men whose solitudes she'd just disturbed.

"C'mon, an' dinna make me t' drag y'. Bein' Irish...I canna stan' th' thou' o' a gloomy drunk."

Translations!

>>>They don't know the first thing about getting drunk the right way.<<<

"If you want to get drunk, you're going about it the wrong way. You can't get properly drunk with just a bottle, a glass, and your miseries. Then you just get whiny and weepy, and the hangover isn't worth anything."

>>>But...what's the fun of sitting in a bar, downing glass after glass of a drink -- and the same drink, no less! -- with no company but your own darkness? None at all...it's better to get drunk while singing drinking songs and laughing. Then, at the least...the hangover has some good memories attached to it.<<<

"Come on. Let's all get bottles of something, see who can mix drinks the best, and we'll figure out a few good drinking songs. And if either of you gets weepy drunk on me, I'll hit you. It'll be a lot of furn to drink together and be cheerful than to drink alone and have no one to hold your head over a bucket."

"Give me a pither of an oak-cured ale, aged between dha...uh...two...and five years. And a good one -- thick, but not too thick."

"Come on, and don't make me drag you. Being Irish, I can't stand the thought of a gloomy drunk."

[Sighter Tnailog]

"Drunk?"

Findelfin hadn't heard the girl enter, nor speak to him -- he'd been concentrating on a very interesting pattern in the tabletop. It reminded him so much of when he had entered the forest ages ago and found...well, that was another story.

"No, my dear, you misjudge me." She had an odd accent, he wondered if he had heard her right, but he powered ahead anyway. "A bottle of wine from Coronian grapes is not enough to get me to that point. But it's enough for some relaxation."

But then she suddenly began ordering drinks, a variety of things, and he got worried....what was this?

"Ma'am, ma'am, no, no. I drink nothing but wine!"

He wondered if his protestations would be heard. It would be just as likely that she would force it all down him before this night was through.

[Fia]

It had been quite sometime since Fia had been to a proper tavern, and even then her experience had been limited to quaint little country establishments where the greatest ruckus that occurred was a reel gone sour or a pushy beggar.
She looked wonderfully out of place, but behaved as if oblivious to the fact. Either she was incredibly willful or frighteningly naïve.

Three patrons were positioned near the barkeep and a boisterous redhead seemed intent on bringing a liveliness to the group. She struck Fia as the kind of woman who would get you soused enough to try something reckless and then sing about it afterward. The Elf she was directing her attentions to seemed aghast at the vats of alcohol she was slowly accruing. If memory served the Elves were rather selective about what they ingested.

Fia was out of practice when it came to being social. Not for lack of effort, but for the recent absence of a suitable crowd. Most sailors made for poor company if leering was not your preferred method of communication. After a week or so amongst them, Fia had decided they'd stare at anything with legs and a chest, and she even doubted the legs requirement. In response to them, she had perfected her vacant smile and often feigned seasickness.

Tonight she would ease into the rhythm of normal, scratch that, moderately normal company. She perched herself at the bar nearer the quiet fellow, and looked to the barkeep. He stared back at her with a mingled look of pity and amusement.
This one should be herding sheep somewhere.
"Good evening, could I get some bread and whatever seems to be the most popular drink tonight."
When a small glass and a warm roll were planted in front of her, Fia broke the bread in pieces and ate slowly. She eventually reached for the fateful glass and took a sip.
"Oh sweet mother-!" she whispered hotly. Her nose scrunched and her eyes pinched at the scorching, metallic taste.
That was foul enough to singe my nose-hairs, she thought to herself.
Her next request was far more appropriate, but further belied her provincial background.
"Do you have anything a little milder?"

[Cyrus the virus]

“Free,” Luc Kraus said. A small glass of an unknown liquor sat within his gloved hand, held out for the pretty lady to take. “My compliments to your beauty, miss.”

The woman, a blonde and nothing more as far as the mage cared, snatched the glass eagerly. A playful smile spawned on her face before she took a sip of it. Immediately upon tasting the liquid, her eyes beamed and her smile widened. “This is amazing!” she exclaimed. “What is it?”

“Liquor of another realm, actually another dimension entirely,” replied Luc. “The syrup of Razash Milanea. For me, it is a common dinner beverage.”

Visibly impressed, the blonde downed the rest of the glass in one gulp. She held out her glass to ask for more. Luc chuckled in response. “What next, darling? Do you have a favorite drink, or do you fancy something more… Adventurous?”

That playful grin appeared again, and Luc took the hint. He spoke three words of power, and in his empty hand appeared another, thinner glass with a green, glowing liquid within. “Malazdrewicz, this is called. It tastes of cucumber and celebration.”

The blonde, the idiot, took the glass in her hand and took a sip. Surely enough, it tasted vaguely of cucumber. As she took her second sip, she decided it was her favorite drink. It was Luc’s as well, no so much for the flavor, but for the deceptive way it put an obscene amount of alcohol in a woman without tasting much like it. His smile revealed his satisfaction.

As she drank, Luc took a quick glance around the Peaceful Promenade. Plenty of other prospects, but nobody quite as cute. His smile did not disappear.

[Rith]

Rith entered the fairly lit tavern, at the small group of fairly different beings which included an elf, a redhead, and a few other casual suspects. The redhead seemed to be trying to get the small crowd riled up to have a bit of fun. Completely ignoring everyone, as Rith was promptly strolled up to the bar where he began shouting a request for the strongest drink in the tavern, even before sitting down.

"I'd like a half dozen lined shots of your strongest drink! I'd like a bit of ham, a roll, and some honey to go with that too. I'd also like to see to it I'm on the floor before the hour's up." The bartender stared at Rith as he had yet to even sit down, or even have his presence extend beyond a minute after barking orders for drinks and food.

Laughing, "Well, at least we know who's going to be the first on the floor tonight," came the remark from the bartender as he went into the back bringing out a bottle of about one and a half feet with a rather large bottom and very, very slender top. "I bet you get through no more than three shots before you're on that back of yours passed out along the floor, and if you're not, everything's on me!"

Eagerly smiling at the bartender's challenge, he agreed to the bet. "And if I pass out before three shots", Rith looked around the bar seeing the few guests, "A round of drinks is on me, and make that two for the chatty girl, whatever to their liking."

Rith didn't bother sitting at the bar, but instead kicked out a sturdy looking pine chair at a nearby table and flopped himself down. He pulled out ten coins and stacked them neatly at the center of the table. Not a moment later, the bartender slid a clay plate with a leg of ham, two rolls, and a bit of honey to him. Next the bartender lined six clear glasses in front of Rith and began pouring a honey colored liquid into them. The smell was strong and sweet. Considerably there was no doubt it was smelled across the room, it would probably turn the heads of anyone that Rith already hadn't after his obtuse entrance, to see what he was bound to drink himself into oblivion with.

"I only ordered...", the bartender cut him off.

"It's on me", came a speedy reply from the bartender. "You're going to be out for awhile, can't have a customer hungry when he wakes", the bartender cracked.

"Aye! Cheers!" Rith downed the first shot and squirmed around his chair and gave off a long sigh. "Now that's a drink for yah there!" Rith grabbed his plate and jerked it towards him. He picked up each roll and poked a rather deep hole into each with his finger which created a chamber for the honey to settle into. He poured both rolls full with the jar of honey and promptly bit into one, where the honey dribbled down a corner of his mouth as he savagely ripped a chunk of ham off with his mouth.

The bartender shook his head and continued laughing at Rith from behind the bar. Rith smiled and raised the second shot in toast to him, where the bartender poured himself a shot of a different liquid and raised his back. They simultaneously downed their shots.

Rith noticed a fast approaching drunkenness coming on, and continued to eat. He decided maybe this stuff was that strong and he'd maybe only get another shot down before he was to blackout. He didn't care though because he was already drunk and enjoying himself.

[Slayer of the Rot]

"I've a great amount of business to attend to..." The monstrosity's voice rumbled deep in the back of his throat, the threat as apparent as the roar of a landslide bearing down on a village. "I'm not like you, Brendeth, a lawless cut-purse. I can't just go into a crowd and emerge with my business taken care of." Though the thief could see only the demon's dark eyes, he could tell he was irate. It was a simple matter to tell when the man was angered; it seemed to be the only mood he was ever in these days. One gloved hand reached up Dan Lagh'ratham's face, removing the veil that hid his face, while the other lifted the glass of auburn liquid to his lips. "I'm trying to get you the best craftsmanship, yeah? The quality you asked for is hard to come across these days." Brendeth's mousy brown eyes refused to meet the demon's gaze, instead moving down to his hand, ceaselessly rubbing across the rough grain of the table they were seated at.

Sighing, Dan turned his gaze toward the rest of the Promenade. As he predicted, it was crowded. Workers had migrated quickly to Underwood following the brutal attack of Kedx Fieldeth, all the world's empathy focused on this week's tragedy. Watching them carouse, it was barely believable that gallons of blood had been spilled on this ground. 'Let them frolic and have their fun, for the time being. They can rebuild, but their will always be another butcher sharpening his cleavers in haughty anticipation.'

"I thought I conveyed what a pressing matter this was when I pressed your arm into several broken sections," he said in a calm voice, indicating Brendeth's cast bound arm. "Then what of the other objects I asked you to acquire?" The thief brightened, fumbling with the sack at the foot of his chair with his single hand, and dropped a lacquered hardwood box on the table. "It's all there, sir! I found one of the best glassblowers in Fallien to craft these. He complained for a bit because the symbols were complex, but after I poisoned him he wordlessly followed the chart to a tee." Not even the slightest hint of pleasure stretched the demon's lips as he leaned forward and thumbed the clasp of the box, lifting it's lid to reveal what was inside. "Perfect." Pinched between thumb and forefinger was a small glass stud set in the middle of a thick gray steel band, colored a rich vermilion. In the center was a strange looking symbol, too complex to be a dwarven rune. "Gatun. In common, it means the beginning, or genesis." Slipping the ring over his left thumb, Dan snatched a second ring from the box before shutting the lid, settling back in his chair with a great sigh, turning the gem over and over in his fingers.

"That's mine, right?" A glimmer of excitement lit Brendeth's eyes, as bright as a child who's been instructed to pick any toy of his choosing. "No." Dan's hand snapped shut, removing the ring from line of sight, and instantly the thief deflated. "Don't feel bad, in any other case, I'd kill you now. However, I've grown somewhat fond of you, so you will remain alive as an agent, instead of dead and as offending strings between my teeth. No, this," he said, producing the ring in the flat of his other palm, a simple sleight of hand, "Is for another prospect." The stud flashed a yellow, the symbol in the middle as complex as the one resting on his own hand. "One that happens to be attending the festivities of this evening as we speak. And his shoulder happened to give me a bad case of heartburn."

[Atzar]

The Peaceful Promenade, as it was called, was quickly growing too crowded for his liking. No matter. He hoped to be long gone before the night had progressed too much.

But that was when she showed up. Golden skin, dark red hair, shapely figure - she would have been eye-catching, had Atzar been interested at that particular time.

It didn't matter, though. She immediately accosted him in an accent so thick that he couldn't understand it. All the mage knew was that, at the end of it, his shot glass had been taken away from him, replaced with a mug of rich brown ale. He made a face. Atzar had never been a fan of ale.

He apparently wasn't alone, either. This perky newcomer had disturbed the sanctity of another client - an elf. After listening to a few completely-ignored protests by the pale-skinned elf, Atzar quickly got the message.

They weren't getting out of this one.

Reluctantly, the mage picked up his mug and moved closer to where the golden-skinned girl was sitting. If it was going to happen anyway, there was no point in fighting it.

Perhaps this was necessary, too.

[Cyrus the virus]

Malazdrewicz, as harmless as it tasted, had within it a liquor so potent it often knocked people unconscious if they had too much of it. The liquor, however, was like water in flavor, so it only added to the mild cucumber taste.

Luc didn’t want an unconscious woman, though, just a drunk one. So after two, he motivated the blonde to head upstairs with him with promises of more drink and as much chocolate as she could eat. Idiotic and inebriated, the bitch followed. Her clothes seemed to fall from her body as soon as she entered the room. Luc was an attractive man on the outside, after all.

She was easy to please, not that Luc was focused on pleasuring her. Their time was over after a few minutes, and Luc found himself getting dressed as the blonde passed out. She was a fun romp but not much more, and he briefly considered killing her. Considering she would probably remember the night’s events when she awoke, he thought that fitting enough to his humor.

And with that, he was back downstairs once more, though not so focused on chatting up a woman. A flash of light in his hand revealed a red liquid in a bottleneck flask, a cinnamon ale from some dimension he sensed. He didn’t feel like leaving yet, so he hung about the bar area and sipped from it.

[Karuka]

The Elf denied he drank anything but wine. And that he was trying to get drunk. And maybe that was true, wine was a sissy sort of drink. Wines and cheeses...for the Franks. Brew and bread for the Celts! Even a Frank had to experience what it was like to be a Celt once or twice.

The human boy, on the other hand, looked at the ale like it was something vile, and didn't even bother trying to look enthusiastic about getting properly drunk. This was perhaps the worst one. He needed to get his mind off of whatever was dragging him down and have some cheer for a wee bit.

That settled everything, at least in Karuka's mind, and as the bar started livening up, she handed the Elf his bottle of wine, the boy his bottle of liquor, and slid her arms about their shoulders, grabbing the pitcher of ale over the Elf's shoulder.

"Y' dinna drink anythin' bu' wine is a lie, a' leas' fer t'nigh'. If y' canna drink like a man, then pr'ten' t'. An' y', lad...yer face'll ay get stuck like tha', an' no'un'll ay wan' t' be yer frien'. So, we're all ay goin' t' get good n' drunk, an' we're ay gonna sing drinkin' songs, an' 'twill ay be fun."

She grinned over at the barkeep as she settled her two new, albeit unwilling, friends into chairs at the table.

"Tri glasses, we're gonna ay ha' fun t'nigh'."

The glasses were brought, and Karuka poured a little liquor into each, then a good bit of ale, and some wine to top it off, before handing the drinks out to the men.

"Here, try i'. Oh...an' I'm Karuka. C'mon. It'll nae kill y' t' try somethin' new aon time in yer life."

Discussed the general idea with the two of you...if either of you want me to change something, hit me up on AIM or via PM, and I'll fix it.
Translations that I almost forgot...

"That you don't drink anything but wine is a lie, at least for tonight. If you can't drink like a man, then pretend to. And you, lad...your face will get stuck like that, and no one'll want to be your friend. So, we're all going to get good and drunk, and we're going to sing drinking songs, and it's gonna be fun."

"Three glasses...we're gonna have fun tonight."

"Here, try it. Oh, and I'm Karuka. Come on. It won't kill you to try something new just once in your life."

[Skylar]

So weary.

Work for the Hidden One was toiling, but a pleasure once the final prayers were said and done. After a particular assignment involving the capture of a particularly devilish demon attempting to deface a sect of the Church of the Etherial Sway located in Corone, Skylar found himself traveling through the town of Underwood as the sun began to fall below the treeline. The need to sleep began to creep up on him, little by little, and the Peaceful Promenade was the place to go.

~~~~~~

"Room 22," the barman pointed up the stairs as he spokely loudly over the rustle and bustle that was developing as the sun was setting. Drowning themselves in gluttony thought Skylar as his eyes ran across a particular table with a golden-skinned girl and two men, one an elf, eying her as they consumed their liquid sin. No different here than at one of his father's parties, the ones where ravenous men would group around a woman bestowed with more than just a sweet smile, she being already thoroughly liquored, and attempt their little contest to fulfill their wicked desires. Civilization was most certainly falling far from grace.

As the heretic hunter approached the top of the stairs, he could see two figures, one of them tumbling around a bit behind the other, enter a door and close it with overdone force. Skylar shrugs off the scene as he continues down the hallway, room 22 being right next to the door the scene had involved, and with his key he unlocks it, anticipating a joyful pray and a well-earned sleep for the next day of work for the Hidden One. Closing the door behind him, he threw his back pack on the bed and brought himself to his knees, making a circle upon the ground around him. Once done, he held his arms out in front of him, palms facing him, balled up his fists and brought them together side by side. He bowed his head reverently, opening his mind and his heart to the Hidden One. A ritual he practiced every morning and every night. His mouth opened, beginning his prayer.

"Oh Thou Whom Shrouds Adorn, Oh He Whom Grasps But Never Holds, I...."

A grunt. He continues.

"...Pledge my Life to Thee. For in You..."

A moan now. Feminine.

".....There is Peace. In You, there is Tranquility. In You...."

Another moan. Sliding of wood against floor, in slowly increasing succession.

"......There is Safety. With your arms around me, I am free of Temptation...."

The sounds amplify. Skylar lifts his head, facing the wall to the next room. A frustrated frown grows on his face.

"......And when I am with you, you become my Armor, my Shield against the dark."

It continues. Skylar grits his teeth. He bows his head again, trying to block out the beastial dance happening in the next room.

"For with you, the ..."

Images enter Skylar's head, impure thoughts of flesh flood his mind. He shakes his head, as if to dilute them away from his prayers.

"The world..."

The sounds get louder and louder, escalating and continuing its rapid acceleration.

"The world shall not .....not ...."

The female almost is at a yelling level. Skylar covers his ears, rising to his feet as he averts his head from the origin of the cocaphony. Rage begins to boil in him.

"Shall not...!!!"

Louder, louder, unable to escape the sound, unable to avoid the sinful concerto. Skylar begins to shake, and he holds a hand against a chair, leaning against it to try to control himself. His eyes fall to the table, as the sounds began to reach a climax. Suddenly, something overcomes him, and his eyes fierce dart to the wall as his grip tightens on the chair.

"THE WORLD SHALL NOT PENETRATE ME!!"

With both hands now, Skylar lifts teh chair up and with a swift spin it gets heaved into the wall seperating him and the terrible sounds. Splinters fly everywhere, over the bed, on the floor, even some panging against his breastplate and falling to the floor like the sweat that was dripping from his forehead now. The rest of the chair's pieces lay at the wall. He pants for a second, catching himself to keep from doing something more rash than throwing a chair at a wall. He collapses on the bed, and it was then he realized something.

The sounds had stopped.

Looking up to the ceiling, Skylar sends praises to the Hidden One. Never had he been so desperate for an answer to his woes than just now, and He had not disappointed Skylar. Finally, he could finish his prayer and head to bed. But first.....he needed a drink.

Skylar heads back into the hallway, seeing a man start heading down stairs before him. A man.....recalling the figure, he could see the resemblance. From the same room. He seemed sweaty. It had to be him. A fit of anger started to rise from his chest and reddening Skylar's face, but with a deep breath he calmed down the storm that was arising. Every person deserved a chance at redemption. This stranger was no different. As the man, with his brown hair glistening from the toil and green eyes watching the room, sat down at the bar, Skylar decided to join him. He found a seat next to the man and called the bartender for a glass of water. He turns to the man who had a flask of crimson alcohol in his hand.

"What a night, I say. Good evening to you, sir. How does salvation sound to you?"





"

[Larien]

Larien enters the tavern, shakes off her cloak, and looks around. She notices that the place is almost full, and heads for one of few empty tables. As she takes a seat, she leans her staff against the table and waves at one of the barmaids. She orders a drink, sits back and casually looks around the place.

[Taskmienster]

This thread has been sitting since before the beginning of this year (2009). 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.