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[LANAI] The Rod of Seven Parts: Into the Crucible

pallandrome

First Post
"Well, there's an old saying friend. When life gives you crap, make crap...ade. Um. Seriously though, if your troubles are anything you care to share, sometimes doing so can lighten the load," Wyleck offers, while doing his best to quaff an ale. He's new to quaffing, so most of the booze actually goes down his throat.
 

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As Rhys enters the Cockatrice, Traven averts his gaze and makes a study of Rancid Crabtree, one of the Cockatrice's regulars approaching from half a block distant. Rhys enters through the doors, his random comment that "The bird knows something" causing the large yellow dog standing guard by the outer statue to look up and track Rhys with intelligent brown eyes as the human passes. When Rhys steps over the threshhold, the labrador lifts its head and watches as Rancid approaches.

Smiling at both Frane and Vaja, Rhys orders ale. Vaja breaks off her discussion with Lowel and grabs a glass tankard. Slipping the mug under a spigot and filling the cup past the brim, Vaja places the ale in front of Rhys with a smile of her own. Vaja opens her mouth to offer the day's greeting to Rhys but is cut off as Rowan, accompanied by his booming hobbit voice, enters and plunks himself down at the bar. Filling a smaller half-pint tankard with golden ale, Vaja deposits the drink in front of Rowan with nary a comment other than an arched blonde eyebrow. With her arms crossed in a hint of disapproval, Vaja silently watches Rowan and Wyleck toss back their drink.

Engrossed in serving Rhys and the two halflings at the bar, Vaja misses Baliss's nod of greeting, but Lowel sees and returns the half-orc's nod. Adjusting leather bracers that cover his forearm from wrist to elbow, Lowel strides over to Baliss's table after Luce, one of the Cockatrice's serving maids, fetches whiskey for Baliss. Pulling up a chair and sitting down uninvited, as is Lowel's custom, the human addresses Baliss in low tones. The lilt of Lowel's chin at the elf reading the billets suggests that what he says is about her. "Come in today, askin' ferr work. Vaja took one look at 'er an' pointed at the corkboard, sayin' there warn't work 'ere. Gave 'er name as Lynnya, said she knew the forest well an' sommat 'bout magic." Lowel scratches his head. "Whole conversation in elvish, too. What wit me short trainin' in the fey tongue, can't help but feel it were a miracle o' the Maiden that I understood what them two said." The human has a second appraising look at Lynnya. "Could be prettier, 'specially fer an elf."

Arden enters, her sound effects trailing behind her like a waft of perfume. Traven openly stares at the barkskinned gnome, then with a shake of his head turns to greet Rancid. Bird, however, beats Traven to it and calls out, "There's plenty of space at the bar. The courtyard is open today, too; just walk through those doors there. But stay clear of the birds." Bird punctuates his memorized speech with a raucus caw, then pecks at Phud's earlobe. Traven scowls at Bird and, his voice full of ire, addresses Phud. "Your pet would look good on a spit." Rubbing his stomach, the lanky human grins a smile of crooked teeth and continues obnoxiously, "I'm feeling hungry. Vaja, what's cook fixin' for supper? Roast crow?"

Rancid Crabtree follows Arden into the Cockatrice in short order. Overdressed, and impeccably neat, Rancid is slender with thin mustaches and long hair plaited into a lone braid that falls, corded, down his back. Looking around the room and avoiding Vaja's stare, Rancid seats himself next to Wyleck. With an uncertain smile, Rancid offers up, "'Evening to you, little one. The powers that be have seen fit to grant me the talent of curing wounds, but not the ability to win at the tables." Rancid's breath reeks of absinthe and Wyleck soon finds himself in a veritable fog of the anise smell. "If you're wounded or sick and have a few coins to spare, perhaps we can reach a mutually beneficial arrangement?"

Vaja mutters a quick, "Gods be!" to Wyleck, Rowan, and Rhys as she shoves away from the bar and walks over to where Rancid sits at the bar. With a curt, "Rancid, where's Frane's money? You owe us 8 gold and since ye been gone the last tenday, we're wanting payment right short."

Rancid looks up in horror at Vaja's approach, then clams up as she demands payment. Smiling unctuously at Wyleck, Rancid weakly offers, "So, you see, Wyleck. I'm in a bind. And Mistress here wants her gold crowns."
 
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Guest 11456

Guest
Phud : Male Half-Orc Sorcerer 1

Scowling at Traven, Phud replies with his usual level of wit. "Huh!? Don go spittin' ad Bird. He not like peoplez spittin' ad hem."
 

pallandrome

First Post
Wyleck looks about himself, patting himself down. "How about this, fella-me-lad: You'll pay me in favor, not in kind. I ask for something, be it healing or be it other, you'll do as you can to provide. Agree, and I'll settle your debt." The little halfling holds out a hand, eight coins arranged upon it in a stack. "And quit antagonizing Bird wouldja? he's got Phuds ear yanno, and that's none you want to be crossing, man or avian."
 

Malvoisin

First Post
CanadienneBacon said:
Adjusting leather bracers that cover his forearm from wrist to elbow, Lowel strides over to Baliss's table after Luce, one of the Cockatrice's serving maids, fetches whiskey for Baliss. Pulling up a chair and sitting down uninvited, as is Lowel's custom, the human addresses Baliss in low tones. The lilt of Lowel's chin at the elf reading the billets suggests that what he says is about her. "Come in today, askin' ferr work. Vaja took one look at 'er an' pointed at the corkboard, sayin' there warn't work 'ere. Gave 'er name as Lynnya, said she knew the forest well an' sommat 'bout magic." Lowel scratches his head. "Whole conversation in elvish, too. What wit me short trainin' in the fey tongue, can't help but feel it were a miracle o' the Maiden that I understood what them two said." The human has a second appraising look at Lynnya. "Could be prettier, 'specially fer an elf."
"Hrm...did better'n I coulda, Lowel. Don'speak a worda elvish. Mebbe I'll talk with'er after I drink breakfast, see what's posted that's new." Baliss casts an eye about looking for Luce to bring back his whiskey. "Need a job," Baliss adds, almost as an afterthought.

"Whuzzis, now..." Baliss looks over at the exchange between Rancid, Vaja, and Wyleck. "Rancid...name fits. Somebody oughta sort him out, pesterin' people like that." The half-orc shakes his head, disgusted by Rancid's shameless behavior.

Then looking back over at Traven, Baliss mutters, "Say, Lowel, y'ever take a close look at Traven? Looks like he's wearin' a wig t'me."
 

Rhun

First Post
Rowan sits quietly, watching the exchange take place between Wyleck and Rancid. He sips at his ale as he watches and listens.
 

hafrogman

Adventurer
Rhys nods his thanks to Vaja and shyly returns the smile of the beautfil bar owner. However, as her attention is torn away by the arriving halflings, he quickly finds himself smiling into thin air as she whisks away. He wipes the grin off his face with a quick glance towards Frane, and then quietly sips at his ale.

He turns his head slowly, taking a look around the room. The panhandler next to Wyleck, the elven lass, the man chatting with Baliss, the dog. . . something strikes him suddenly and he looks back to the dog. Had the dog been. . . watching him earlier? No, no, no. Stop. They're just animals. The bird doesn't know anything, the dog wasn't watching him. Just animals. He shakes his head savagely and knuckles his forehead in an attempt to clear his mind. He's been seeing things again lately, and not sleeping well. Some trouble is brewing. He cannot afford to be distracted by idle fancies. He must be ready. His hand unconciously goes to the metal disc concealed beneath his clothing.

Seeing Wyleck distracted, Rhys offers his own comfort to Rowan. He turns slightly towards the halfling and nods a greeting.

"I am sorry to hear of your troubles friend. I cannot say whether it will be for your improvement or not, but mark my words. Change is in the air."
 

G

Guest 11456

Guest
Phud : Male Half-Orc Sorcerer 1

Phud grabs his pecked earlobe with his hand. "Ow!" This was most amusing since Bird had stopped pecking his ear several minutes ago.
 

Brain

First Post
Not deterred by the lack of response to her arrival, Arden hops back down to the floor and approaches the elven woman. In Elven, she speaks. "Anything interesting up on the board today? It's kinda high up there for me."
 

Traven's disdain of Phud knoweth no limit. Disgusted at not being able to get more of a rise out of the giant of a half-orc, Traven resorts to ignoring Phud in favor of scowling at the yellow dog that sits outside the Cockatrice's front doors. Launching a kick at the dog, Traven barks out, "Scat! Shoo! Get outta here!" The dog, completely at ease, turns its yellow head to regard Traven but never budges an inch from its spot in front of the gold-leafed statue out front.

Growing more frustrated by the second at not being able to assert mastery over a mere mongrel, Traven kicks at a pile of dirt and instead misses, stubbing the toe of his soft leather booted feet on a stone pillar that supports the Cockatrice's roof overhang. With a loud cry of pain, Traven begins to curse. "Son of whore's cuny. Mother's milk, that bloody..." The skinny, ill-tempered bouncer counterpart to Phud hops in a circle, clutching his right foot and shooting a daggered look at Phud and Bird.
 
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