The Duck and Spackle Bar Mk. II

Users who are viewing this thread

At this point, Therian had well given himself over to the alcohol. The bottle of vod was near empty, but there was more then enough for a few more good gulps. The world was swimming pleasantly, his thoughts were not the turbulent, and all in all Therian was just enjoying the feel of alcohol in his system.

The sound of something being knocked over next to him attracted his attention. Hethik had knocked over her keg of beer in a bout of stumbling to stay standing. Fortunately, or so Therian mused, the mare had managed to drain the oaken keg before knocking it across the tavern, otherwise there would be quite the mess to clean up. He glanced up to admonish the black horse, but she gave a drunken whinny before tipping in his direction.

"GodsdamneditHethik." He said, grasping for his bottle as a half ton of horseflesh fell, knocking him off his seat and pinning him slightly above his waist.

Somehow, his bottle remained in hand and intact.

"Ow." Therian muttered from his new place on the ground. "Oh well. Sleep will, dear Hethik." He glanced at his almost empty bottle. "I do believe I will be joining you soon." So, with little aplomb, he drained the bottle, and passed out.
 
Miclee walks into the bar, wondering where everybody went. A thick layer of dust covers the counter. It's almost as if everybody vanished without a trace. Walking behind the counter he grabs an unknown bottle, pops the top, and begins to drink in solace.
 
Cornelius almost passed by the bar, almost, but the allure proved too much and he slowly pushed open the door.

It was a lot like he recalled it to be. Many old familiar paintings hung on the wall, covered in a thin layer of dust. A good number of them brought a shiver down his spine as he remembered their creation. He'd learned, that was for sure, but the memories remained. Ignoring the lone man for a moment, he peeked around the corner of another room to see a few in-progress creations. He smirked at their presence and muttered to himself.

"Looks like some new memories to be made."

Turning back to the wasteland of a bar, Cornelius made his way to a seat across from the only other man in the place who was, evidently, the impromptu bartender. He smiled a friendly smile at the man.

"It's been a long while since I've been in this place. Mind passing me a drink, friend?"
 
Hethik stumbled into the room, her rider haphazardly holding onto the saddle. What had happened last night, where they had been and what madness had occurred was unknown to the pair. All they knew is that they had all their kit and needed water. And currently were not being chased by the guard. And needed water.

Lots of water.

The horse stumbled over to the bar, whence the rider toppled out of the saddle, and lay on the floor unmoving. The mare, for her own part, sat down and face-planted into the bar, a strained nicker emanating from her throat.

Therian, after a few minutes of pain, pulled himself to the bar. "I need water. So does Hethik. Lots of it."
 
I can,t believe you lot!
The scar-faced, raven haired Khergit woman slapped the doorframe with the scabbard of her sheathed sabre.
How by the Afterlife did you all end up back here, moaning about the good old days?

by the way, Robin of Swadia was nothing more than a padded shift and expensive face paint.
but a nice girl, when all was said and done.

I hope you are in good health, you bastards, and taking care of your horses?
 
Therian shrugged. "As well as can be. Water, pleaseeeeee....." He moaned. He then proceeded to lay there like a dead fish, hoping the world would get better.
 
The tired and thirsty nomad that had wandered into this bar on his travels elsewhere proceeded to the exit mumbling under his breath..

"The service here is terrible can't even get the attention of any staff for a drink"
 
The door opens once again. The hinges squeal in protest, and it seems as though a thick layer of dust covers everything. Still, a cursory glance tells the newcomer that there is still booze in the back. Good drinks too, though it might take a bit of looking to get the best ones. An eyebrow raises as he sees new bottles, relatively speaking, that he's never noticed before, alongside the old favorites of his former years. The dust lays thick on them as well, and his shoulders slump as he realizes that he's been gone for far too long. Might be best to stick around a while and see what else is new, what's been changed.

Seeing no bartender, he pulls himself an old bottle and blows the dust off. This is a familiar label, and he smiles. "It's been a long time" he muttered to no one in particular.
 
All of sudden, a man comes from the shadows and startled the visitor who thought he was all alone. "Thid place is haunted, you shouldn't be here"
 
A certain someone walks inside, gazed by the surprise of such place, he walks to a chair close the wall were everything meets a crash.
That someone was Louis, he who words come out when the talk is about future. He who call himself "The last bretón" the old celt nation. His flag, old, has been on fire and water, has been left has been right
Wind blows. His mind is cold, throat however is hot.
Wind blows. Burning branches steals Louis attention for a while
Wind blows. Shivers
Shiver
Shiver
He then says: "Where I am, everybody was! But twas long ago now"
So long
So long
Its empty.
 
He leaned on the seemingly fragile and old wooden door, using his strength to open the entrance. It took a quite bit of force but they finally moved and he nipped in, closing the door behind him. It was a bar, as he thought, in quite desolated condition, but some people still sat behind tables. They all seemed... quiet at the very least. He moved towards the tap and sat on a high chair.
"A beer perhaps?" he said and moved a hand with a small coin - dome - as you'd call it in his land - towards innkeeper.
"Just a second, and yes, I'll take that coin. said innkeeper and threw that coin into a small mug behind the tap. Here you go, the beer.

 
Back
Top Bottom