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Tavern Thread: The Hanged Man
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<blockquote data-quote="KenHood" data-source="post: 4470320" data-attributes="member: 4413"><p><strong>Palindrome...</strong></p><p></p><p>A non-descript, hopelessly average peasant enters the bar, wincing at the faint stench of sawdust mixed with old beer and dried vomit. He makes a pained attempt at a pleasant smile, perhaps muttering through his strained teeth. With mincing steps, he angles towards the bar, avoiding contact with ANYTHING, as if he were moving through a colony of lepers. </p><p></p><p>The bartender brightens at the boy's entry. "Greetings, young sir. How is the good Doddoddod?"</p><p></p><p><span style="color: SlateGray">"Fine,"</span> says the boy, with not a little disgust, <span style="color: slategray">"Just fine." </span></p><p></p><p>With a pained sigh, the boy opens his satchel and retrieves a piebald rabbit. To the barkeep, he presents the beast, holding the animal with two fingers by the scruff of the neck, as if it were a moldy sock. The animal speaks, "Greetings, fine sir. Please place three kegs of your best small beer in the cart of my young apprentice, who shall pay you from the coins in his pocket. Per our previous agreement, please seal the bungs of the kegs in wax, to ensure that no unfortunate tampering occur between your fine establishment and my home. Also, seal the change in an envelope, affixing your stamp in wax, so that my young apprentice can account in full for the monies."</p><p></p><p>The boy sneezes--though his sneeze sounds somewhat like a slang reference to the anal orifice. </p><p></p><p>"Right away!" says the bartender, rushing away.</p><p></p><p>The boy drops the rabbit (which bounces off the edge of bar and ricochets off a spitoon). Studies his fingers with a measure of distaste, then rubs his hand on his shirt. </p><p></p><p>He groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. <span style="color: slategray">"Gods, I hate taverns. I'm sure that in a few moments one of these melancholic wine-bibbers will break into song about how a significant other betrayed them or perhaps some antisocial alcoholic will engage in fisticuffs, shattering a nearby mirror in the midst of the hullabaloo. Why can't they do the rational thing and kill themselves quickly--say with a rusty knife--rather than dragging out the tedious moments of their wretched existence by-"</span></p><p></p><p>The door opens, as the bartender returns, leading three workers laden with kegs. As the sun of a sudden spears the earth with its radiance after a passing cloud, so does the rictus smile appear on the face of the boy.</p><p></p><p>"Here we go, good sir! And may the gods place a thousand blessings 'pon your fine master!"</p><p></p><p>"Here! Here!" seconds a nearby patron.</p><p></p><p>The boy waves in thanks, barely managing to suppress a roll of the eyes.</p><p></p><p>The boy hands coins to the bartender. As the gentleman counts change, the boy surveys the room, accidentally spilling a nearby mug of beer. With a hearty apology he sets about to clean it, but the barkeep waves him off, telling him it is a small matter. </p><p></p><p>In the hubbub, you note the boy pocketting several coins. </p><p></p><p>The bartender seals the envelope with the wax of a candle and hands it to the young man with a cheerful bow. The boy deigns to nod in return, turns, and exits--managing to kick the rabbit as he leaves.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="KenHood, post: 4470320, member: 4413"] [b]Palindrome...[/b] A non-descript, hopelessly average peasant enters the bar, wincing at the faint stench of sawdust mixed with old beer and dried vomit. He makes a pained attempt at a pleasant smile, perhaps muttering through his strained teeth. With mincing steps, he angles towards the bar, avoiding contact with ANYTHING, as if he were moving through a colony of lepers. The bartender brightens at the boy's entry. "Greetings, young sir. How is the good Doddoddod?" [COLOR="SlateGray"]"Fine,"[/COLOR] says the boy, with not a little disgust, [COLOR="slategray"]"Just fine." [/COLOR] With a pained sigh, the boy opens his satchel and retrieves a piebald rabbit. To the barkeep, he presents the beast, holding the animal with two fingers by the scruff of the neck, as if it were a moldy sock. The animal speaks, "Greetings, fine sir. Please place three kegs of your best small beer in the cart of my young apprentice, who shall pay you from the coins in his pocket. Per our previous agreement, please seal the bungs of the kegs in wax, to ensure that no unfortunate tampering occur between your fine establishment and my home. Also, seal the change in an envelope, affixing your stamp in wax, so that my young apprentice can account in full for the monies." The boy sneezes--though his sneeze sounds somewhat like a slang reference to the anal orifice. "Right away!" says the bartender, rushing away. The boy drops the rabbit (which bounces off the edge of bar and ricochets off a spitoon). Studies his fingers with a measure of distaste, then rubs his hand on his shirt. He groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. [COLOR="slategray"]"Gods, I hate taverns. I'm sure that in a few moments one of these melancholic wine-bibbers will break into song about how a significant other betrayed them or perhaps some antisocial alcoholic will engage in fisticuffs, shattering a nearby mirror in the midst of the hullabaloo. Why can't they do the rational thing and kill themselves quickly--say with a rusty knife--rather than dragging out the tedious moments of their wretched existence by-"[/COLOR] The door opens, as the bartender returns, leading three workers laden with kegs. As the sun of a sudden spears the earth with its radiance after a passing cloud, so does the rictus smile appear on the face of the boy. "Here we go, good sir! And may the gods place a thousand blessings 'pon your fine master!" "Here! Here!" seconds a nearby patron. The boy waves in thanks, barely managing to suppress a roll of the eyes. The boy hands coins to the bartender. As the gentleman counts change, the boy surveys the room, accidentally spilling a nearby mug of beer. With a hearty apology he sets about to clean it, but the barkeep waves him off, telling him it is a small matter. In the hubbub, you note the boy pocketting several coins. The bartender seals the envelope with the wax of a candle and hands it to the young man with a cheerful bow. The boy deigns to nod in return, turns, and exits--managing to kick the rabbit as he leaves. [/QUOTE]
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