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

[Storm Veritas]

The rabble coming from Shinsou, Philomel, and the scruffy blonde that had begun sauntering about the bar was quite distracting from Storm's efforts at diplomacy. He looked as the three of them bragged about their Crystal Swords, while he had found the Rat he owned to be generally little more useful than a sturdy crow-bar in a pinch where a stone door might be jammed shut. Of course, the hilt was metal-trimmed, which made it a fine projectile in a pinch. Overall, the usefulness of the alleged mystical item could be synopsized by its position; still tied snugly to his loyal steed out front of the bar.

"Much obliged, m'dear." The wizard's focus was now directed at the sharp little barkeep that had produced more honey whiskey for Storm and the diminutive lizard people that his favorite faun had for some reason convinced him to play nice with. With a bright, white smile, Veritas raised his glass and poured it down his throat, proving to the small creatures that he had not just poisoned them. They reluctantly bobbed about, sipping and sneering at the sweetness of his drink, all the while greedily devouring anything free.

"Changes nothing! Ettermire still belongs to the Kobold!" one of the little scaly things offered, a gurgle in his voice from the fire water that hadn't fully passed his gullet.

Of course, but you poor bastards are still trying to conquer for SOMETHING, right? Nothing enough coin can't chase.

Leaning in to the barkeep, he smiled again as he spoke in hushed tones, while the kobolds about him paid him no attention.

"I know they don't have two crowns to rub together, but I'm sort of counting on that. I've got to balance flashing enough money to get their interest as a venture capitalist without convincing them to try to jump me. After all, our foxy friend over there wants to play nice, and I'd bet their insides would do a number on your hardwoods."

Tapping the floor with his metal soled shoes, the -tamming- strum of the thing amused yet another grin from him. He was half hoping for a fight to break out from the whole damned ordeal anyway, but in the interim offered his best efforts at mirth. Again, a handful of crowns seemed to appear from the ether, this time as double the stack jingled on the bar.

"Let's try another round for the house; keep the tip sweetheart! I want to see if any of our little guests have livers as big as their balls!"

The liquor would flow freely, although as a third drink passed his lips, it occurred to Storm that the little creatures may be completely unaffected by the wonderful ride that alcohol so frequently took him for.

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

I felt like my mind had been split into fragments and put into small bags, which people then repeatedly stamped on.

As I had gotten up to leave, I felt a subtle pinch of resistance at the edge of my coat. The faun who had just called me an asshole for levelling the playing field with the Kobolds suddenly reacted to my getting up, reaching out under the table to clamp on to the drakescale plated fabric. Her serious eyes betrayed her firm body language, and without saying a word I could see her telling me not to go. There couldn't have been more than a thumb and a forefinger holding that corner, but I was anchored to the spot, such was the power of her hold over my feelings. My golden eyes swung to her and I took a moment to consider my position. I could have made a point by sulking like a child and storming off, but all that would have done was put distance between me and my best friend whilst utterly degrading my own character.

Quietly, I sat down again, pulling the chair back in. I went to great lengths to ensure that it only looked to Jake as if I were adjusting my seat for comfort; the last thing I needed was everyone to see Shinsou Vaan Osiris and Philomel van der Aart having a public tiff shortly after the rucus.

Turning my attention back to the elf, Jake, I took a sip of my ale and indulged the possibility of the crystal swords having called us together. At first it seemed plausible, with four of the sword's owners present and accounted for in once place, but after a while I dismissed it as a co-incidence. I didn't even carry The Goat with me anymore, such was its obseletion, and in any case what possible reason would their collective higher power have for "getting the gang back together?".

"I doubt it," I eventually piped up, "But you look like a man with something on your mind. If you want to share, then by all means..."

I gestured to one of the chairs that Philomel's man hoard had vacated earlier.