Another day in the Tavern

[Marksman]

Before the door could even close,a man wearing what appears to be the charred remains of Heironeous Vesments barges through the doorway,with a severely burnt hood still atop his head.

"WHO THREW THIS?" the man yelled,holding up the remains of a flask...

"Were it not for the rain,I might of burnt this establishment to the ground!UNINTENTIONALLY!!!!"

With his current noise level enough to wake the Tarrasque,the man's hood (or what's left of it...)falls off his head to the ground,revealing his distinctive heritage.His head was that of a Bronze Dragon,and he did not look very happy.

"Now I have to replace these darn things!"...He throws his vestmants to the ground,showing his semi-worn banded mail.It is filled with holes,apparently from arrows...His skin texture was also that of Bronze Dragon,it too filled with scars from many a battle...

 

[BarbedWings]

"Sorry! so sorry sir!"

Gets up and runs to damaged vestments.

"I can repair these! I think..."

Opens a pouch and produces a black vile with no top, but when turned upside none of the liquid fell untill the elf waved his hand.


"Now this concoction will repair any damaged IAAAAEEEE!"

Witnesses the deadly acid quickly burn through and disintegrate whats left of the charred vestments.

"So sorry, soo sorry, I know! I'll buy you a drink. Oh... was that gold? I'll buy you two then..."

Motions for the man to take a seat at the former table and motions for a round of drinks.

"So hows the weather?"

 

[Marksman]

With great restraint,the cleric takes a seat

"I don't want any fight here...I was coming in to relax,but got a little more than I bargained for..."

He sits down in the offered chair...

"It just started to rain,and some ale would feel nice right about now...and don't worry about the vestments,I was gonna get them replaced anyways..."

His pupilless eyes follow the BarGolem as it walks to the table.

"By the way,my name is Slithe...Bird-of-Prey...but you may call me Marksman"

 

[BarbedWings]

"Good to meet you Marksman, my name is Yuri Klevett; but all whom know me do so by Barbewings. This name means freedom, like that of a bird, does not come without an eternal price, the price I payed for my freedom from a prisoner of war was most of my sanity. But let us change from such dreary subjects."

BarGolem brings three drinks to the table.

"Have you noticed the strange company we get in here?"

 

[Marksman]

Slithe shoots Yuri a beeming look,putting his scaley head next to his,in order to speak in private.

"On second thought,I shouldn't of told you my nickname...I'm only just arriving,and don't want to make myself very known...yet.You see,some of these people are edgy around MY kind,especially those of us who are...well...a little more noticible in public.You may call me Slithe,Yuri."

He takes a swig of his ale,but feels all of a sudden weakened.His head hits the table,and his tail knocks out the chair on the table behind him.There was something in his drink,and he could taste it before it took effect.

 

[BarbedWings]

"Yeah man! That hot sauce was HOT HOT HOT wasn't it? Yeah, not even you guys can withstand its effects. Hwy because its made of.. ohh let me check the ingrediants.

Starts searching for the pouch with his home-brewed hot sauce in it.

"Hmm ok, its got, oh my. This hot sauce is... full? Oh my. I wonder what that was..."

Takes Slithe's second drink and starts to drink.

"Yep, definantly not hot sauce."

Yuri joins Slithe on the table, asleep.

 

[Gabriel_LeCreux]

He watches the other two in silent wonderment, confused by their ways. His puzzlement leaks into his features and contorts his brows. He soon looks away, reaching back to sratch at the first spike in the line down his back at the neck. He tries to ignore the other two and concentrate on his assimilations, but curiosity draws a glance from him every now and again.

He muses, I do not assimilate these people...

 

[Marksman]

After about 20 seconds,Slithe begins to get his senses back...shooting his head up,he realizes that he still can't see,but can feel his sight creeping to where it should be...

"Yuri?You there?Did you put something in my drink???"

No answer...he reaches for where Yuri was seated,feeling him still there,out cold on the table

"Elves never did have real good reactions to that stuff...what's this?"

...Picks up hot sauce...

"Full?Hmmm..."

Out of the corner of his eye,Slithe spots the grey figure staring at them from across the room.He hides his staring at the figure easily,for his eyes are a solid color.He finally fully regains his sight,seeing Gabriel in full spectrum.

"Yes?You look curious.Speak grey one!"

 

[BarbedWings]

Yuri awakes on the table, then straightens his back, and without even looking at the pouches on his chest takes out a blue vile and drops some in his drink, some in Slithe's, and then puts it back. He continues to slowly sip his ale, staring at nothing in particular, randomly ordering more drinks and writing down new formulas on a scratch sheet of paper.

Yuri withraws two tubes, opens both, and pours a miniscule amount into the other, producing a smoke that twists and turns. THis smoke takes the shape of a dragon, and flies around the room then back into the bottle upon which all the potion dissappears.

"Good, good, now all it needs to be is bigger..."
The words fall out of Yuri's mouth as he continues to mix and brew unknown liquids, keeping to himself, acting incredibly dosile.

 

[Gabriel_LeCreux]

Startles slightly at the sudden addressing towards himself, and snaps his attention to the other. He nods his head, peering at the others curiously.

"What you want me to say, sir? I ask to forgive me, mine common not that great. I try and assimilate it best I can," he smiles shyly, possessing a boyish innocense.