The Duck and Spackle Bar Mk. II

[Llew2]

Llew strolls into the newly refurbished bar. Most of the scars from previous brawls and disagreements have been cleared up, and the freshly painted bust of Xerina sits lovingly in a corner; a fond reminiscence of olden times.

Llew props himself against the bar, and orders a pint of something. As he drinks a silent toast to fights past, he notices one or two other patrons, evidently reserving seats for the coming entertainment. He smiles lopsidedly. Entertainment. Hah.

 

[Lord Tim]

"Lovely", Tim mumbled while closing the door to the toilets behind him, as he saw Llew sit by the bar.
It's been a while since we had any decent fellows in here.
With that, he referred to the younglings who visited the tavern recently, but couldn't handle the drinks.
As he went to sit at the bar, just a few stools further from Llew, he raised his little finger to the barman, followed by his forefinger and the middle one. And so, the barman filled two jugs from the keg.

 

[RalliX]

On a weathered and nearly broken down chair sat a man in fine and in some places, engraved plate armour, his face obscured by the steel visage which he rarely took off. A flask of cow's milk he held steadily in is off hand, and he reclined on the back of the moaning chair.
He wondered if he might take a flagon of honey-wine also, and mix the two, but he rarely drank in the first place.

He was waiting for a certain Swede to come and accompany him to the castle. A crazed drunk of incredible ability. None could match him in a naked axe-fight or brawl, and he had acquired a taste for the distilled Slavic potato-water which felled many a man in the volume in which he consumed it regularly. Rallix considered heading to the castle without him, so late was the Swede.

 

[A_Mustang]

A cold, northern breeze blew into the tavern from the door as a cloaked figure entered. His dusty clothes of leather and deer-sinew were worn and traveled, his step light and fast. A long, slender knife rested at his side, and a powerful bow on his shoulders. His hair was clean shaven, bald scalp glinting in the light of the tavern. Quietly he stalked to the bar, leading a warhorse in tow.

The beast was large, black and shaggy, movements flowing gracefully through the cluttered tables and chairs of the tavern. The jet black mare was marked white only on her long face and rear legs, socks contrasting with the pure black on the rest of her. Her saddle was worn, saddlebags firmly strapped in, and a long, elegant Hand-and-a-half sword belted down over her withers. The blade itself was simple, aside from a indescribable crest on the pommel.

He sat down on at the bar, ordering himself a bottle of vod, and a barrel of ale for his steed. A strange set of orders, but his gold appeared readily and he was sated. With a tired, disinterested sigh, he popped the cork of the bottle and took a swig, swallowing slowly, enjoying the fire of the drink. His horse, on the other hand, drank greedily for the open top of the casket of ale, stopping only when it was about a half-dozen inches lower to raise her head and unleash a massive belch.

"****, Hethik..." He swore under his breath, as the smell reached him. "Seriously, we need to get you to a dental vet."

 

[Llew2]

Llew's eyes lite when he saw the newcomers, though with interest or mischief it would be hard to tell.

He sauntered down the length of the bar to where the man sat.

"A fine entourage you travel with, friend," he drawled, "and I don't think I've seen anyone stalk across a tavern with quite the same poise that you showed. Usually they stride, or saunter as I just did, or even stroll...but stalking in a crowded room is a new one." He grinned.

"Also," he added with a glance towards the horse, "nice sword. Dare I ask were you're from? I believe I detected a northern breeze when you wafted in, but I can't place it."

 

[A_Mustang]

The traveler sorted. "The wind is blowing to the north outside; what's to say I didn't double up and come from the south? I travel frequently, and have spent time in the north, south, east and west." He grimaced, and took another mouthful of alcohol.

"A good blade, it tis." He said, tilting his head towards the sword. "Pittance, I rarely find any use for it. Most work these days is by the long reach of yew and the small blade, not a lord's sword." Hethik, the mare, took another long drought from her keg. "It's hard to change a stride after practicing for so long."   

The traveler unshouldered his bow, dropping it and his quiver of arrows against the bar between him and his horse. "This place has changed since I last saw it. Then again, I didn't have the time to hang out at a bar back then. So, friend. You a regular here, or just another fellow coming through?"

 

[Llew2]

Llew chuckled. "Something of a fixture, I'm afraid. Someone's got to keep order in the chaos. But tell me, what is it like riding into battle on a drunk horse? The most exotic thing my horse ever ate was moldy hay."

 

[A_Mustang]

The ranger chuckled. "Its.. exciting. Most of the time you get pinned under her after her tripping on something." He glanced over, noticing that his steed had indeed made a sizable dent in the ale. Feeling challenged by his horse, he threw his head back and took to great long gulps. "Then again, after that point, I'm usually not too good on my feet either, after all the vod I've had. It usually ends with us falling asleep were we lay."

 

[Llew2]

Llew clapped him resoundingly on the shoulder, with a chuckle. "And after that, living or dying doesn't make much difference I suppose." He slapped the horse on the withers, companionably.
"Best get back to my drink then."

 

[Lord Tim]

"I know who you are", Tim said nonchalantly while turning on his stool to face the others.
"You're Therian, Last of the Windriders, Ranger of Swadia, Horse-Whisperer. And that's your mare Hethik."

For a second, his old wound near the stomach lived up again, as if it started burning spontaneously.

"I know it, because I saw him fight in Tihr. This man is a hero, 'keep' offer this man something to eat and your best ale, or wine, if he prefers it. It's on me."


((Mustang don't you say that isn't Therian, it was way too obvious ))

 

[A_Mustang]

Therian rolled his eyes and snickered. "Well, someone here recognized me. Memories still last awhile I suppose." He took a long swig again. "In any case, I have come here simply to get drunk, for one night, if you know what I mean..."

 

[Llew2]

"That's all fine for you, but nobody recognized me. A few pals and I use to make quite a splash hereabouts. I even married the Queen of Swadia once." Llew looked into his drink. "She was such a hottie. A pity. All good things come to an end though. Now I keep the peace in the bar, and spend most of my time throwing pre-pubescent boys out the door when they think a big sword makes up for everything."

He eyed his mug again, and looked somewhat surprised to see it empty. "Dammit! I swore I would never get this maudlin when I drank. I need a good brawl to lighten things up. Anyone got a grudge to settle? Come on, Therian! A well-used chap like you has got to have a few enemies lying around."

 

[A_Mustang]

Therian gave a good look at his bottle; it was alittle more then half empty now, and the buzz of alcohol was thick. For her part, Hethik seemed to have half emptied the keg at her feet, a slight sway to her standing. "Not really," He replied to Llew. "They tend to end up dead.... Somehow... Odd enough it seems... verily. Hei!"

 

[Llew2]

"A pity." Llew examined his mug again, but found that it was still empty. He turned to signal the bartender when the door banged open. Three river pirates obscured the light, casting sinister shadows onto the floor. The other patrons looked up. Someone sniggered.

The three raggedly clad men moved in a group to the bar, where they ordered watered down ale. Typical. Llew perked up somewhat, and winked at Therian.

"Oiy, you lot, hasn't river pirattry gone out of fashion lately? I thought that with all the kingdoms hereabouts that you blokes would be out of a job."

"What d'you think we're 'ear for? Sod off and bugger someone else." 

"No, but really. I use to make a living off you guys. What went wrong?"

"The bloody Dark Knights 'appened, that's what. Or rather, they stopped 'appenin, if you know what I mean. We was never in business on our own. We use to hand them small share of the profits, slimy little though there was, and they'd make sure only bloody bleeding idiots got the contracts to hunt us down. It were a sweet system, 'till them laws and civilizations came bloody messing things up. Can't peepole just leave well enough bloody alone?"

Llew looked somewhat bemused at this. "Man, I feel you're pain. Here, bartender, give these fine chaps a round on me."

He slid back down the bar next to Therian.

"Never had a chat with them before now. Changes things, you know, once you got the other half of the story. That still doesn't help the tedium. Dammit man, I've never seen the bar this quiet. You should really learn restraint, and leave some of your mortal enemies to run around out there. Otherwise you'll have nothing to do when you retire. Just look what I've got to deal with; absolutely nothing."

 

[Suspicious Fish]

(I have no idea if there is something I should know before I join in so I'm going to let myself in.)

A man walks through the front door of the bar. Slung across his shoulders is a 5 foot oak stuff, polished by many years of fighting and dueling. At his side is a small falchion with some names carved into the steel blade and a family insignia on the hilt and the scabbard. He pulls his hood of his forest brown cloak away from his face as he closes the door, revealing his short brown hair and a callused face. Pausing for a moment, he surveys the room, his hazel eyes going from Therian to finally resting on the three river pirates. He walks up to the bar, still eyeing the trio. "I'll take some mead, but if you don't have that I'll just take some ale." He says, his deep voice resounding around the bar. He finds a small table without any people and takes his staff off his back and rests it on the table. He relieves himself of his cloak and drapes it around his chair, making sure to place all his valuables in his sight.

 

[Llew2]

Llew eyed the newcomer as he unlimbered his tools and sat. Motioning to the bartender that he would deliver the man's mead, he took the mug and ambled over to the now singly-occupied table.

"Traveled far, stranger? You've the look of the road about you."

He set the mead on the table before him, taking a chair opposite without being asked.

"You've found a small corner of Calradia here. This place use to much busier, back when Zendar was a major sea-port. The scum of the earth could be found here, as well as the brave and true. Now though," he gestured around broadly, "it's peaceful most of the time."

The trivia out of the way, he stuck out his hand.

"The name is Llew."

 

[yulgar]

Gurrand meandered down the road, his horse's back swayed low.  The poor beast finally stopped in front of a tavern, a newly rebuilt tavern by the looks of it.  Gurrand swung out of the saddle, jumping down to the ground and as his feet touched the ground his mail rang out loudly in the night time air. 

Gurrand sighed heavily as he looked over the horse, shaking his head all the while.  Unstrapping his shield and sword, Gurrand set them to the side as he fished the rest of his belongings off of the horse's back.  Gurrand unstrapped the saddle, tossing it with the rest of his belongings.  Next, he peeled the saddle blanket off the horse's back wiping him down for the last time.  Taking the bit out of the horse's mouth, and unstrapping the reins, Gurrand pushed the horse away.

"Go.  You're free now." He said, his voice low.  Giving the horse a light rap on it's rump, he smiled at the best silently thanking him for his service.  The horse turned back to look at him, but Gurrand pushed the beast away again, slapping it a little harder.  This time the horse took the hint and trotted away.

After bundling his belongings together, Gurrand strapped his sword to his belt and adjusted the weight before going into the tavern.  As he walked through the door, Gurrand gave a passing glance to each man in the room before walking to the bar.

"I'll have a bottle of your best, bar keep." he said, making his coin purse jingle.

((   Heya!))

 

[Suspicious Fish]

The man looked up from counting the days he's been traveling on his fingers. "I'm Lerian the Wanderer. You might have heard of me." He shakes Llews hand. "I've wandered around Calradia for so long and done so many things I have to keep a reminder why I started in the first place," He unsheathes the falchion on the table, the lantern light shining off the steel blade. "This is my reminder." He slides it back into the sheath and takes another drink of his mead "You see, I'm a blacksmith. My father was a master blacksmith back in Yalen. He taught me all he knew and with that gave me this sword." Lerian sighs and leans back "But you probably don't want to hear my rambling on about swords and history."

 

[Llew2]

"Nice blade," Llew smiled, though somewhat lopsidedly. After all, the family heirloom story was a fairly old one which he had heard before. However, never judge a man until you've seen him action.

"I'm afraid I haven't heard of you, but that's hardly a surprise. I've been out of commission for some while. Likewise, I doubt you've heard of me..." He trailed off on a somewhat wistful note, but whatever reply was forthcoming was cut short as a newcomer entered the bar.

The man clinked with each step, obviously heavily armed. Though from the look of it, he carried all of his worldly possessions in addition to the usual hardware - in this case, a sword and board.

"Well Lerian the Wanderer, I'll let you get back to your mead. If you've an apatite, the cook has a mean roast spitted in the kitchens. Bread is fresh too." With that he turned and headed towards the bar, where the newcomer was ordering himself a bottle of the tavern's best, which happened to be a fairly pricey vintage from somewhere in Swadia.

Propping himself up beside the fellow, Llew gestured towards the man's belongings.

"Going far, friend? I could swear I heard a horse wander off before you came in. There are stables around back, if it's feeding he needs."

 

[yulgar]

Gurrand accepted the bottle graciously and paid the bar keep, giving him more than the bottle was worth.  Turning to the new face, Gurrand gave him a once over, trying to keep a steady gaze. 

"Reckon I'll be stayin' a day, maybe two.  And I had to set the ole boy free." he said, unstopping the bottle and taking a long drought. "Almost shed a tear for the dumb horse!"

Taking another long drought of mead, Gurrand looked around the room once again.  He did not see the man he was looking for, but knew the man would surface eventually.  The fool couldn't resist a place like this.

"So, what's the news?" Gurrand asked, "Any new folks around?  I'm called Gurrand.  And you?"