Tales From The Old Bald One-Eyed Salty Red Dog Tavern! (chapter 1, now closed)

[Wystan]

I whisper to the seamstress::

[sblock]"Now my dear you see why it is such a rush job. These are the interminable louts that I will be associating with and I need to at least make them look presentable if not good....[/sblock]

When the Lutefisk arrives I turn slightly green and back away a bit.

 

[Gray Shade]

Berserker Bill, too, turns a bit green at the Lutefisk. He meant the house specials to [highlight]drink[/highlight] (OOC: my bad!). "Hey, Sunderkeg, how 'bout a couple specials to drink to go with the specials to eat here? Thanks!" Noticing that she seems to be digging his hat, he gives it a tap of salute, then remembers his manners and removes it mumbling, "Oh, pardon."

Trying not to offend Sunderkeg, Bill subtely pushes the jellied fish away from the lady (OOC: he'll have that later). "Er, so you're going to be assisting our master tailor here, eh? That's great." He looks her up and down, purposefully not paying attention to any particular parts because he knows the chicks dig it when you don't moon-eye their goodies."You seem to have great taste in clothing yerself." He touches the hem of her sleeve (unless she pulls away) and offers it to Desert, "Check this out, Desert, that's soft. She knows her work."
Bill looks at his fingertips and rubs them together, "Yeah, my hands are all rough. Probably from killing people . . . carrying my bucket," he indicates the high-quality bucket hanging from his belt with his eyes. He looks back up at her deep, beautiful eyes and adds, "Oh, I'm sorry, where are my manners?" He sticks his hand toward her, "I'm Sheriff Berserker Bill. You can call me Bill." Before she can take his hand, he waves it around and continues, "Me and this brave band of adventurers are going to storm over the local forces of evil and crush them like . . ." He looks at Desert for help and repeats (without stuttering) whatever words Desert suggests--if Desert says nothing, then he continues anyway, "Yeah, we're pretty much heroes and all. I love your accent. It's gorgeous! What's your name again?"

 

[Lazlow]

"My wonderful lady, this could be the first gentleman that you size and then Mr. Sheriff Bill here, and then we will see if K. returns and then the gentleman that appears to have just woken from his book and K.'s sidekick Richard....I will of course give you my measurments as well, but I would be making my own uniform. Did I miss anyone...."

"Yes... Yes, I zee..." She snaps out of her trance-like state and stands up straight. "Ahem. Let's get on viz it, shall ve?" She starts rummaging through a satin bag.

 

[Lazlow]

I whisper to the seamstress::

She tsks an affirmative, nodding to you.

 

[Gray Shade]

Berserker Bill frowns and furrows his considerable brow. "Woman! How can I beseech the gods to bless thee without thine name?" He sighs and then drums his fingers on the bar waiting for the drinks. After a few listless drumrolls, he says, "Yes. Measurements." He removes his traveling cloak and drapes it over the seat next to him. He then starts unbuckling his breastplate. Just before he lifts it off, he gives Desert a wink and sucks in his gut and puffs up his chest.
"Mostly, madam I was looking for just a kilt and a cape, and I actually gave Ranti my measurements, but if you must . . ." he then begins to unbutton his shirt, the pits dark with what he would surely call "trail squeezins", his chest hair abundant and sproingy, seeming to reach out for her womanhood as the top few buttons give way between his thick fingers . . .

 

[Lazlow]

"Hey, Sunderkeg, how 'bout a couple specials to drink to go with the specials to eat here? Thanks!"

"O' coorse, o' coorse! Comin' right oop!" He moves further down the bar and sets about making the pyrotechnic potables.

Noticing that she seems to be digging his hat, he gives it a tap of salute, then remembers his manners and removes it mumbling, "Oh, pardon."

At this she stops rummaging through her bag and fixes you with her eyes again. She smiles to herself, seemingly satisfied with something, then continues her rummaging.

"Er, so you're going to be assisting our master tailor here, eh? That's great." He looks her up and down, purposefully not paying attention to any particular parts because he knows the chicks dig it when you don't moon-eye their goodies."You seem to have great taste in clothing yerself." He touches the hem of her sleeve (unless she pulls away) and offers it to Desert, "Check this out, Desert, that's soft. She knows her work."

At this she freezes and glares at you with an icy stare. You get the feeling that this is most definitely unwanted physical contact. [sblock]As you feel the material, it seems to be pulsating with life - it feels warm to the touch, warmer than a robe should be, but you can feel streams of cold shooting through it, almost like veins of ice water.[/sblock] As you let go, she loosens a bit, but only slightly. She continues rummaging through her bag, but she keeps one eye on you.

Bill looks at his fingertips and rubs them together, "Yeah, my hands are all rough. Probably from killing people . . . carrying my bucket," he indicates the high-quality bucket hanging from his belt with his eyes. He looks back up at her deep, beautiful eyes and adds, "Oh, I'm sorry, where are my manners?" He sticks his hand toward her, "I'm Sheriff Berserker Bill. You can call me Bill." Before she can take his hand, he waves it around and continues, "Me and this brave band of adventurers are going to storm over the local forces of evil and crush them like . . ." He looks at Desert for help and repeats (without stuttering) whatever words Desert suggests--if Desert says nothing, then he continues anyway, "Yeah, we're pretty much heroes and all. I love your accent. It's gorgeous! What's your name again?"

"My name... Iz not to be spoken by you."
"Hey, Carlotta! Good to see you."
"Ah, hello Muirna my dahlink!" <makes kissy motions>

Her head snaps back to face you and she fixes you with the same steely glare as before. "Tut-tut-tut! No zpeaking. Pleaze, be ztill." She finally pulls out a long, silvery ribbon out of her bag, then puts the bag away.

 

[Lazlow]

Berserker Bill frowns and furrows his considerable brow. "Woman! How can I beseech the gods to bless thee without thine name?" He sighs and then drums his fingers on the bar waiting for the drinks. After a few listless drumrolls, he says, "Yes. Measurements." He removes his traveling cloak and drapes it over the seat next to him. He then starts unbuckling his breastplate. Just before he lifts it off, he gives Desert a wink and sucks in his gut and puffs up his chest.
"Mostly, madam I was looking for just a kilt and a cape, and I actually gave Ranti my measurements, but if you must . . ." he then begins to unbutton his shirt, the pits dark with what he would surely call "trail squeezins", his chest hair abundant and sproingy, seeming to reach out for her womanhood as the top few buttons give way between his thick fingers . . .

Various screams, cries for mercy, and general shouts of displeasure from the patrons erupt all around the room. Muirna, surprisingly, faints, but luckily Sunderkeg catches her in his arms without spilling the two specials in his hands.

"OH DEAR GODS IN HEAVEN"
"I think I'm going to be sick..."
"PLEASE, SOMEBODY MAKE HIM STOP"
"PUT THAT THING AWAY!! THERE ARE LADIES HERE!!"

...And so on.

Carlotta grabs your hands and forcibly rips them from your shirt. "PLEAZE! Hands to your zides. There. Slightly out a bit, pleaze. Thank you. Now: BE ZTILL."

The silver ribbon she pulled out of her bag earlier begins to wind it's way around you of it's own accord, slithering smoothly around your arms, legs, and chest, burrowing fervently into the abundantly sproingy man-foliage thereon. In a few moments, it has traversed most of your frame, and it leaps back to Carlotta's hands, whereupon she holds it gingerly between two fingers and wipes it thoroughly (VERY thoroughly) with a damp rag. As she does this, it seems as if she's having trouble swallowing...

"Zank you. Zat is all." She glances over to Desert. "Are you next?"

 

[Gray Shade]

Beserker Bill seems totally unaffected by the reaction of the patrons and Muirna, but gives the woman an outright angry look that could (metaphorically) turn a red dragon white, then looks past her to Ranti and says, "Like I said before: Cape and kilt. 38 waist." He stands, gathers his armor, cloak and lutefisk, but puts the lutefisk back down to tell Ranti, "And I would request that you personally do my work, or that it not be done at all. I don't trust this stuck-up she-troll further than I trust the bastard son of Loki and Vecna."

 

[Ranger Rick]

.... She glances over to Desert. "Are you next?"

Yes I am. I was told to get my measurements.

 

[Wystan]

"Lets see, kilt....kilt, he really has the wrong legs for a kilt....Hmmmm....maybe have an intergral pair of short pants that attach the kilt to them so that he can wear either...Maybe even long pants legs that can attach to the short pants so we don't have to see his legs....And Desert needs a nice loose fitting outfit that will not get snagged on too much when his attention is distracted. K. Will definately want an outfit that would make an elven dancer blush. Richard would most likely like a dark but sensible version of the same uniform...and that 'The Speaker' fellow....hmmm he looks like a robe and cloak type person. So since cut is out as a distinguishing characteristic we must needs go for colors. I see a dark Blue and Black for the legs area with a crimson red and black torso area. The cloak should be a dark black and purple.
I start to doodle again after this and watch as the measurments are taken.
I then whisper to Carlotta
[sblock]With your wonderous abilities....and I really must learn how you enchanted that measuring ribbon...how long do you think the uniforms will take?[/sblock]