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<blockquote data-quote="Unsung" data-source="post: 6564078" data-attributes="member: 6781406">The barmaid cracks a smile, and her hard face-- with cheekbones you could cut Styx ice on-- softens, as Eurid orders with facility. &quot;A Dustman with an appetite, is it, now? Well, we're not Comstock's, but I'll see what's in the pantry. Was Bix's turn to cook last night-- should be something good left over.&quot; She starts to turn on her several heels, then stops and looks back, recounting each item with a nod of her head. &quot;Stew, wheat-bread and butter, wine, mead. Coal, hold the arsenic...and something sweet. Did I get everything?&quot; She smiles again, a little wider. &quot;Well, we'll do what we can.&quot;She turns to go. Just then, another great whoop arises from the card game at the back table.[sblock=Picayune]This round seems to have been gone to a poker-faced TV set sitting in the very corner of the room. No-- the boxy creature, with the green, putty-like face set into its metal chassis, is one of those 'modrons' Eurid keeps mentioning, that Rusty is supposedly one of.The modron pulls the pot toward itself, and begins rapidly assembling the coins into small, neat stacks in front of it.[/sblock]To all: While you're waiting comfortably here in the relative safety of the bar, you may wish to consider your options. You find yourselves in one of the great cities of the multiverse-- apparently, at least, as not all you may have heard of it before now-- where do you go from here? Why did you come here? Where had you meant to go? How will you get back to where you belong, and how imperative is it that you do so?</blockquote>

[QUOTE="Unsung, post: 6564078, member: 6781406"] The barmaid cracks a smile, and her hard face-- with cheekbones you could cut Styx ice on-- softens, as Eurid orders with facility. "A Dustman with an appetite, is it, now? Well, we're not Comstock's, but I'll see what's in the pantry. Was Bix's turn to cook last night-- should be something good left over." She starts to turn on her several heels, then stops and looks back, recounting each item with a nod of her head. "Stew, wheat-bread and butter, wine, mead. Coal, hold the arsenic...and something sweet. Did I get everything?" She smiles again, a little wider. "Well, we'll do what we can." She turns to go. Just then, another great whoop arises from the card game at the back table. [sblock=Picayune]This round seems to have been gone to a poker-faced TV set sitting in the very corner of the room. No-- the boxy creature, with the green, putty-like face set into its metal chassis, is one of those 'modrons' Eurid keeps mentioning, that Rusty is supposedly one of. The modron pulls the pot toward itself, and begins rapidly assembling the coins into small, neat stacks in front of it.[/sblock] [B]To all: While you're waiting comfortably here in the relative safety of the bar, you may wish to consider your options. You find yourselves in one of the great cities of the multiverse-- apparently, at least, as not all you may have heard of it before now-- where do you go from here? Why did you come here? Where had you meant to go? How will you get back to where you belong, and how imperative is it that you do so?[/B] [/QUOTE]

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