Pies and Pints (Open)

Vega, Merces, Max, and anyone else interested

Almund is a thriving township with a dark side. With houses made from the wooden bodies of decommissioned ships, there are many opportunities here, coupled with many dangers.

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Qit'ria
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Sun Dec 10, 2017 4:06 am

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Timestamp: Zi'da 39th

Qit's cloak was wrapped tight about her shoulders, keeping the biting winter winds out as best she could. This winter was harsh, and Qit had been too careless to make proper preparations. Much of that was due to constantly being injured, but really that was just an excuse she told herself. She'd not expected such a cold winter, too many years in the south and traveling through the hot lands. She'd spent much of the day roaming around Almund, trying to figure out how to find out more about this curse. But she'd not found anything. Just a bunch of grumpy sailors and annoyed dock workers.

The wind howled, and Qit pulled her cloak tighter, flinching at the pain of her cursed marks. She hated this. She liked cooler weather over the sweltering heat of Saun, but this, this was a bit much. She needed warmth. Just for a little while. She looked around her, not particularly familiar with her surrounded in Almund, but knew she was on the eastern side. She saw a pleasing blue sign above a doorway. It had some words scribbled on it, in the common language. She couldn't read it, but she at least could recognize Common from Xanthean. But she really liked the color. It reminded her of this one hunt her mum took her on, the sky was really blue that day, as they chased down a pack of wolves.

She missed her mum. She missed Desnind, and with a sour grin, she made her way toward the door, hoping there was some warmth inside. She pushed it open and was blasted by warmth and the busy noise of many conversations. She almost turned away, really not wanting to be around a bunch of strangers. But the heavy heat enveloped around her. And she couldn't say no.

So she pushed her way in.

Being so wrapped in a cloak, a very unimposing figure, she didn't attract many stares. A few glances before they got bored and returned to their own conversations. Qit scanned the room, seeing so many people, but more importantly a bunch of fires lit. The room was terribly full, and Qit was able to recognize it was a tavern. Her mother never frequented such places, calling them pointless distractions for fools, idiots, and a word that didn't translate well into common, but basically meant dead while alive.

But her papa loved taverns. He said they were the best way to get to know people, truly know them. She sighed. She missed him. He actually took her to a tavern once when she was but a wee sapling. She remembered the food being good, and her father knew every person in the place. He even sang songs and let her eat as much as she wanted. It was a great time. She searched around for an empty table, but on a cold night like this, the tavern drew many patrons. She moved over toward a fireplace as a whole group got up and left, after much hugging, laughing, and cheering. As soon as they were out of the table, Qit moved in and sat down at the now empty table.

It was the perfect spot, not too close to the fire as to be sweltering, but close enough to be cozy. There were many mugs and dirty plates and the like strewn over the table, but Qit didn't mind. A woman with sunkissed skin bounced her way over to Qit's table, "'ello sweetie. All by your lonesome?" The woman leaned over the table, deepening the already excessively ample cleavage she had, "Wha' can I get ya? The meat pie is goo' an' hot soon. One just for ya, if ya ask me. Pairs well wit' mead."

Qit stared blankly at the woman, "Um, uh..."

Dunha seemed to know Qit's story immediately, "Oh you've not been in a tavern in years! Poor thing. Trust me on this, meat pie and mead is wha' ya wan' to star'. Will warm you up so goo' ya'll think you were crawlin' into my bed." The woman gently set a hand on Qit's shoulder, "Wan' me to hang yar cloak love? I promise its safe 'ere. No one steals from Mad O'rourke's. They'd regret it far too quickly."

Qit just nodded, and let the woman take her cloak and disappear to get her order. Qit crossed her arms in front of her chest, propping up her chin, so as to not show off her curse marks. No one needed to see her oozing sores, and she feared it might get her kicked out, for being disgusting to those eating. The barmaid brought Qit a large mug of mead, "There ya go, sweetie. Pie will be out soon."

Qit nodded, and the buxom barmaid left to attend to other tables, after clearing away the old dishes. Qit was alone at a large table, and staring down at the stein of mead. Her papa hadn't let her drink when he took her to taverns, and somehow Qit'ria had never ended up in one before now. She picked up the mug and sipped at the golden liquid, finding it surprisingly sweet. She mmm'd and sipped down some more, enjoying the warm feeling it gave in her throat and belly. She drained half the mug quickly, and her eyes began to scan the tavern, taking in the surroundings. So many people, a few barmaids, and a busy kitchen. And Qit with a table by a warm fire, with good food one the way, all to herself. Maybe taverns weren't so bad.
Last edited by Qit'ria on Tue Apr 17, 2018 7:03 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Tybalt
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Mon Dec 11, 2017 3:15 pm

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"Geez, why is that guy sleeping under a stall?"

Tybalt had to fight off every cell in his body not to jump out of his tattered blanket right then and there. Being a bum on the streets is one thing, manslaughtering maniac sharing a cell with a cuddlebear called Frank the Tank is a whole other ballgame. One he did NOT want to partake in. Gripping the edge of the blanket tighter with his stiff fingers, he ignored the duo nearby as much as he could, zoning their drunken debate out as much as he could. Why is it that drunk folk use their time of escapism and inebriation to discuss things they should talk and think about during their most conscious and coherent moments?

"Dude, I'm telling you. Fuck'm! It's their loss. Letting you go like that! I mean, who is ALWAYS on time, right? Yeah, I know, totally unfair! Okay yeah, you didn't come on time the last week b--Yeah okay true, you only came to work twice. BUT HEY! At least you came to work right? That's something dude. Man, I'm telling you. You're better off, your next job will be better, trust me!"

Tybalt smirked, very briefly though, the icy cold made his lips rip open with even the slightest movement. These guys were quite the pair. Apparently one was missing a goddamned brain, the other a spine. They should fuse and maybe then they'll have more chance to accomplish something, than this ant strolling casually over his blanket. But who was he to judge anyway...look at'm. Lying underneath a stall at the market, with a blanket that had more holes than fabric and as only remaining friend a derpy lill' pug dozing away in his arms, peacefully...and pressing his fucking icecold runny nose against him.

He was almost losing himself in a deep slumber, when the drowned out ramblings started to become louder and louder. Tybalt secretly hoped they would get in a fistfight and knock eachother out so he could finally get some rest. But when he heard other voices join the fray, he turned slowly and quietly in his blankey and saw what was really going on. The duo got company from another pair of numbnuts. He recognized the two, fellow men of the college of life and whatnot. Basically bums. He was on pretty decent terms with them and they had always came off as fairly good people, regardless of the situation they were in. But then again, Tybalt's people skills and expertise of the streetlife had yet to manifest. The two bums whipped out shanks and were about to mug the lads, if not worse.

Part of him wanted to stay out of it, letingt the sods take care of themselves but when he saw that they were barely of drinking age and clearly pissing themselves...His goddamned morals took over and he quickly got out of 'bed' and walked up to the party, mind and heart racing at high speed.

"Let'm be lads, they're my sister's kids! What are you doing? Come on!"

Tybalt swallowed an all too familiar sensation away when the muggers turned to face Tybalt, clearly still ready to throw down. But when they recognized Tybalt, they fortunately lowered their stabbyhands and tsk'ed with a frown before declaring they didn't know and bailing out fast, probably on to their next victims. Tybalt wished he could somehow stop them completely, but this was reality, you can't save everyone. The youngsters were completely blindsighted by this fortunate turn of events and had to take a few moments to count their blessings. Before sending them off to their homes, after vigorous handshaking and excessive thanking, one of'm pushed some coins into Tybalt's hand, enough for a hot meal and some drinks even!

Feeling quite chipper now, Tybalt quickly packed his belongings and woke up the sprawled out derp, before setting course to O'Rourkes for the night! He wasn't too far away and even the cold wind cutting deep through skin & bone couldn't blow out the happyhappyjoyjoy feeling he was having. When he finally made it to O'Rourke's, he was greeted by a blazing heat from the fire, deafening laughter and chatter and more importantly, a kind soul who was not quick to judge. Dunha smiled wide at the shivering homeless man as she approached greeted him hearthily and stashed away all he had on him, besides Derpal of course. He wasn't often seen in O'Rourke's anymore, mainly because of what happened to him & his current financial flow being in quite the rut. He used to frequent the place though, and even got invited by Dunha more than a few times now for a free meal too. An offer he hasn't accepted once, much to Dunha's annoyance. "FINALLY! You stubborn ol' man! You nee' to learn t'accept help sometime y'kno!! Making me worry li' that! Pfuh!!'

Tybalt smiled and waved his hand around in defense. After catching up a bit, she had to go back to work and he had to get his stomach filled! The place was stacked though, one of the few seats available was at a table near the fireplace, he nearly skipped a beat as he approached it fast in the hopes that nobody else would be taking it. Making his way through the groups of people scattered around the place, he failed to see the woman already sitting at the table. He plopped himself down with a loud and content 'Raaaaahhhhh', before becoming fully aware of his immediate surroundings. "Ah..Euhm..Sorry haha, didn't see you there. Is this seat taken?"
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Mon Dec 11, 2017 6:21 pm

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There was little doubt that the structure which stood before the twilight hybrid was a tavern. He could scent the familiar smell of alcohol drifting out of the building every time that someone opened the doors, feel the briefest wave of heat tickle his feathers as the fires within battled with the chilly air outside. The very thought of the freezing air outdoors made the Avriel shiver for a fraction of a trill, and promptly tighten his grip around the loose conglomeration of clothing attached to his feathered form. He had deigned it unnecessary to bring his full armament for a simple trip to the tavern out of fear that it would gain an undue amount of attention, and thus he had hidden it within the wilds under several layers of stone and snow where he doubted even a wild animal would be able to uncover it without first knowing its location.

He had chosen to take his longbow along with him for fear that the cold air could somehow affect the stringed implement and reduce its effectiveness, and the same could be said for the adamantite mace which bumped gently against his side. The Null Gauntlet made up the only piece of armor upon his form, its value far too great to simply leave it sitting in a pile of snow somewhere. If the absolute worst were to occur, he could simply repurchase another set of armor, or else relieve a foolhardy person of theirs, but the Null Gauntlet could not so easily be regained should it be taken from him.

The murderous Avriel approached the tavern, his talons slicing through wet snow as though it were nonexistent, though the bitter chills did sting at his bare feet to an extent. He glanced briefly at the woolen clothes upon him for a final instant before entering, briefly recalling how he had gained them in the first place, the triple homicide he had committed to earn them, the speckles of blood that still stained them, visible outwardly should one ever decide to look closely for them.

A monstrous being strode forth into the tavern, drawing a brief glance of attention from the gathered crowds. Crimson eyes the color of a vicious wildfire glared down menacingly at each one until they had returned to their drinks, a wicked grin casting itself upon his face as he recognized that that particular trick worked across borders. It was simply in the nature of most to avoid being targeted by beings that they found frightening, and whilst he recognized that he was not completely out of their attention, he also realized that they would not so blatantly glare whilst the threat of receiving his own stare remained.

He scoured the establishment for any suitable sitting arrangements, but quickly determined that available seats were few and far between. It became apparent that he could need to join someone at a table if he had any desire of eating in the establishment, and so he began to review his options. There were a group of lumberjacks sitting at a long table near the end of the structure, laughing raucously, and stinking of putrid odor and dubious hygiene. He didn’t doubt for an instant that he could take any of them in a straight fight, but in honesty he had no desire to provoke them by stealing one of their chairs away from them. Crimson orbs settled upon a figure wandering in from the outdoors, and observed as he strode over to one of the available tables, quickly… was he apologizing?

The Avriel considered his options, and promptly strode over to the table, deciding that the awkward opening was perfect for him to snatch up a chair. After all, she might be upset at he, or the man, but to be upset at both would warrant causing a bit of drama, and most people avoided that as if though it were a contagious illness that might suddenly snip their lives short.


“Greetings.”
He rumbled gently as he took hold of the top of the chair, sidling around it so as to rest upon it. “I hate to interrupt you pair, but there are few seats available here. Might I join you for a meal?”
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Credit to Pegasus


As a note: Noth is a Grandmaster in Intimidation. That means that he's at least as scary as the Count from Sesame Street. Beware.

"The tyrant confuses those he can't convince, corrupts those he can't confuse, and crushes those he can't corrupt." - Anonymous
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Vega
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Fri Dec 15, 2017 11:19 pm

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Location: O'Rourkes
By Xiur's perky nipples, it was bloody cold. Vega was wrapped up against it and very well wrapped up. She was wearing a pair of loose, light trousers over her thick wool tights. Those were both tucked into her high boots and she had on an underdress and dress, then coat and cloak, gloves, scarf and a thick wool hat with ear-flaps which tied under her chin. It was fair to say that she did not like the cold. Arlo didn't mind it so much, but she didn't like it and she was much happier in the heat of Saun.

With a couple of breaks to spare, there was the tavern they'd agreed to meet in and Vega couldn't quite help herself. She'd heard that they did good mead here and she and Arlo could share a bottle. It had been too long since they'd done that and the redhaired woman's mind was made up. Opening the door, the heat hit her and she was more than delighted at it. Throwing back her hood and pulling off her hat, Vega looked around. They'd split up to go and do some shopping.

The next trial, the 40th, marked the beginning of a tradition on Scalvoris which Arlo had decided they were going to fully embrace. Three trials of gift giving and it had been all his idea, and Vega would maintain that no matter who asked her different. In truth, she'd been planning it since she heard about it, but that wasn't the point. It was his idea, and that was that. So, three gifts, starting the next trial with a gift of knowledge. Then, the trial after was a gift of laughter and the one after of love. That would lead to the Zi'da feast, on the 43rd. So, they'd been to a number of places on the island and this was their last stop.

He wasn't here yet, but that didn't bother Vega. She looked around the room, briefly, searching for the familiar figure of Arlo and then she walked up to the bar. She wasn't going to eat, not until he was here, too, but she was more than happy to order. "Beer, please?" The woman was more than happy to help her and Vega made sure that she paid the correct amount. Then, she sat at the bar, perching on one of the stools and enjoying the warmth. Looking around at the patrons, the red haired biqaj-looking woman with currently vivid green eyes caught sight of the small group.

"Knickers," she muttered to herself. Qit'ria. Arlo's not-so-secret admirer who evidently had a major crush on her boyfriend. But equally, for all that Vega was a foul tempered, difficult to live with, argumentative woman, she was fundamentally also quite kind. Though she'd kill anyone who accused her of it. So, after the nice bar woman had taken her coat and cloak, revealing that Vega wore a longsword strapped to her waist and a bow at her back, she moved over to the table where Qit'ria was. Because the Sev'ryn looked awkward, and uncomfortable and Vega couldn't sit there and just let that happen.

So, she moved over and, when she walked, she did so with the kind of casual grace that told a lot to anyone who knew such things. She wore the sword with ease, and she was comfortable with it. Pulling a chair, unceremoniously, the redhaired woman sat next to Qit'ria. "Evenin'. Who're you new friend, Qit'ria? I'm Vega, by the way. Nice to meet ya." Eyes which now swirled in shades of purple and orange looked around at the strange folks with Qit'ria and Vega gave a brief smile.
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Arlo Creede
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Sat Dec 16, 2017 2:24 pm

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The longer he was out in the cold, going from place to place, merchant to seller in pursuit of the perfect gift, Arlo wondered more and more just whose bright idea it had been to go out in the freezing weather. Out, rather than remaining back at camp, bundled up inside the tent he shared with Vega. They could have found plenty to do that was much more appealing than slogging through the snow and ice. The idea might have originated with him, but somewhere along the way Arlo had decided that it was very much Vega's idea. And as soon as he got to tavern where they were to meet up again, he was going to remind her of that.

He wore layers upon layers in addition to his hat pulled down over his ears and somehow the cold managed to cut through him. It was only going to get worse he knew by the time next season rolled around and the sun disappeared behind one of the moons. He had a sword at his hip, his short bow at his back and another smaller one concealed behind the front panel of his coat. U'frek's blessing wasn't so easy to conceal, had he cared to try. There was a aura surrounding the young man which would be easier to see, was it dark outside. But still there, trial or night. Like a faint mist or the traces of steam that shifted from one color to another, or several at once, bringing to mind an aurora. It would take a very sharp eye to spot it however during the light of the trial, and maybe one that was looking for it.

He stomped the snow off his boots in the threshold of O'Rourke's and as soon as he stepped inside, Arlo's feet got tangled up with a cat that was casually strolling by. One that he'd swear had done it on purpose. And yet some rough looking fellow at the bar shouted at him to watch his step. Shaking his head, he took a quick look around the place, found it crowded in the extreme, and weaved his way between tables and bodies in order to reach the bar. "Whiskey," he said, and put down his coins on the bar.

Picking up his glass, he turned around and scanned the place again, wondering if Vega had got there before him. At first he didn't spot her but then there she was, impossible to miss after all. It was the hair, that was nearly a match for the flames in the hearth. As he headed that way, he spotted another familiar face at the table. Qit'ria. And he hoped against hope that it was an amiable conversation, considering some that he and Vega had engaged in lately on that particular topic.

Arlo paused though as he spotted two other figures there. One of them, ordinary except that the man looked like he'd been put through the ringer and lived in it for a spell. And the other? Well Arlo had never seen an Avriel before, much less a half one. Weird, Arlo thought as he made way towards their table, drink in hand. As luck had it, another table was emptying out as he passed by, and he grabbed a chair from it to drag with him. "How'd you get here before me?" he said to Vega as he put the chair in beside her and sat down. "Hello Qit'ria. Haven't seen you in a while," he said and then glanced at the two men across the table. "I'm Arlo," he said, and wondered how Vega had ended up with this oddball crew.
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Max
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Sat Dec 16, 2017 8:16 pm

The Buckle and Chain Tavern had certainly become one of Maxine's most regular haunts. There was something liberating about entrenching oneself within a rough, unapologetic crowd. No useless small talk, limited pretentiousness, and stiff drinks. It was the bare minimum the orphan could've asked for. The occasional scrap always provided ample entertainment, too. This trial, however, Max was content to avoid familiar faces in favor of enjoying total anonymity. Salvation came in the form of Mad O'Rouke's.

The tavern was a sure change of pace. Fires roared about in every which direction, warming the frozen bodies of all the poor sods that arrived in desperate search of heat. The chairs and tables scattered about were an absolute clusterfuck of mismatched colors and designs. Upon entering, Max nearly paused to make sure she hadn't tossed back a handful of Bug Berries at the sight of the place. The smell ready food took her nose hostage, however, and her hunger goaded her to seat herself at the bar.

Max was sopping up the last of her soup with bread when she felt a change in the air. Her head snapped up from her meal only to notice the eyes of her fellow tavern-goers were possessed by the creature that wandered through the door. The Mixed Blood slowly peered over her shoulder to spy him: the tall, feathered menace. Her attention was practically forced back to her soup the trill his red eyes glanced toward the bar. She blinked her wide eyes and ripped a chunk of bread free from the larger piece with more force than necessary, internally scolding herself.

You pussy! You know someone that has burned men alive in front of your face, and now you turn away at a pair of red eyes?

Curse all she wanted, there was no denying the utterly uncomfortable sensation that there was palpable danger in the room unlike any other she'd encountered. Even the bartender, all sweet tongue as he was, had averted his stare from the feathered man when Max's reaction had piqued his curiosity. She'd never seen an Avriel before. At least, not someone whose phenotype so strongly resembled a full-blooded one. Self-preservation dictated she vacate his domain if she knew what was good for her. Curiosity was the stronger drive for reasons she either couldn't admit or didn't quite understand herself.

Before common sense took the wheel again, Max finished her soup, snagged her bottle, and wandered toward the filling table. There were two women, one with unmistakable red hair and the other more suited to the wild than the city. The three men in their company were just as different from one another. It was a wonder they'd all elected to gathered together at one table like old friends. Her eyes tried to gather as much information about each occupant before she dared claim a seat.

"I see most of us here aren't pirates," Max pointed out as she approached the table with a mirthful gleam in her eye. "But...a bottle of rum is meant to be shared regardless." The Rusalka placed said bottle in the center of the large table before she took a seat among its occupants. She raised her brow and brought her cup to toward her lips to take the quick shot before continuing. "Besides, it's cold as tits out, and nothing warms a body like a stiff drink. I'd be willing to overlook the blasphemy if anyone's into the burn."
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Sun Dec 17, 2017 9:48 pm

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“Lively as usual.” Mercy spoke as he entered the Tavern only to be struck with the acrid scent of food. He wondered why the general population hardly seemed to pay the aroma any attention. With a shrug of his cloaked shoulders, The sorcerer carried on and walked across the Tavern in search of familiar faces. He almost expected Maxine to be present; as this seemed to be an area she used frequently to seek unconventional methods of stress relief. Merces had never been the protective type, but he did not want to leave Max alone. After the series of unfortunate events she could easily become a target for the Merchants Guild. The sorcerer never understood why she insisted upon being in a public space with a multitude of personalities.

As his flaming eyes conducted an assessment of those present in the area; one odd individual forced a vicious chill up the length of his spine. Red eyes, a body composition incomparable to anything he had ever encountered in the past. Why did he appear so horrifying although there had truly been nothing to fear about someone in an open setting?

What the hell is wrong with you? Why the fuck am I even staring at you? I've seen things twice your size, and far more horrifying but you scare me the most..


A series of consecutive thoughts ran rampant in his mind for a moment, and came to a halt. The moment his cerulean flaming irises set sight upon Maxine all was well. The momentary panic ended, but that did not stop every hair on the back of his neck from standing at attention. Merces hesitantly approached, and slowly made his way across the Tavern in a beeline toward his lover. The sound of his boots as they made contact with the ground, removed all thought of him making a quiet entrance.

As he entered, Max shifted locations and he watched as she came to rest at a table filled with people he assumed she did not know. A red head, The strange male, The not so Strange male, and The Wild Woman. This had been a strange place for a somewhat peaceful gathering to occur, but he did not care about the location. Mercy had been far more interested to know who the rest of these people were, and why Max chose to join them. The multitude of feathers ruffled as he completed the final three steps and found himself directly behind Max. The sorcerer raised his right hand, and brushed it across the surface of his visage as to move his indefinitely damp hair out of the line of sight. He knew that Max sparked up a conversation, but chose not to participate as he heard none of it.

Rather than stand and awkwardly hover over everyone who rested comfortably, he took a seat directly beside Max. He did not enjoy the social setting, and thus his heart raced; Not only did he sit beside his social butterfly of a lover. Mercy plunged himself into the company of the unknown, and as a result of his increased pulse rate his irises increased in luminescence momentarily. With a deep inhalation, and exhalation he spoke to the group.

“Hello, Everyone.”


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Qit'ria
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Sun Jan 07, 2018 2:20 am

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Apologies on the lateness, I was on vacation for a long time but I'm back now. That said, I'd like to recommend that this thread not have a set post order going forward. Its a social thread in a bar. Have fun with it, run away with the conversations. Here to drink, eat, and be merry :D
Qit looked up as the first person sat down at her table. The first thing that the huntress noticed was the man's smell. Her nose twinged, which was saying something, because Qit surely didn't smell like a bed of roses. The next was that he just looked... tired. She could understand that. She was tired as well. The wounds hurt so bad, and sleep was hard when you could literally feel liquid seeping out of you. She didn't say anything to him, he could sit wherever he pleased. This wasn't her table, just her seat.

"A thirsty one I see darlin'. No worries, I'll keep pourin', you keep drinkin' easiest business in the world." The barmaid poured Qit'ria another round of mead, and Qit'ria smiled. Just a little bit. And she took another sip.

That's when he walked in, and Qit stared at him with childlike wonder. She'd seen Avriel before, though not often, but something about this one was... chilling. Scary even. And that excited something inside Qit. She knew she was looking at a dangerous being, a hunter like herself. But her gut said he didn't hunt beasts. She watched as he glared at many of the patrons in the establishment, as if to make sure they knew he was the biggest threat. She could understand that, she often displayed her dominance, usual through feral screams and vicious displays of her weapons. The way this one did it was so... perfect.

She was fascinated by him. A predator walking into a buffet, not hiding his malice, daring the sheep to make him eat them. And when he asked for a seat, she turned to look at him, the awe on her face, bolstered by the first effects of alcohol that was quickly taking hold on her, "Please. Sit. Big Busty be soon here."

Then Vega arrived. One of the few people Qit could halfway, sort of, kind of, maybe trust, that fiery redhead. Probably because she was one of the few people that knew her name, didn't try to run her off, and was a huntress. They'd shared a hunt together. They'd shared food together. They were practically friends. Not that Qit'ria would admit it. But she suspected that Vega could be relied upon in a pinch. Peeling her eyes fully away from the scary birdman, she looked at the redhead, shrugging, "No names. Smelly guy and Av.. Avi.. Avileriel. Why so north? Earlo with?"

She took several more long swigs of the mead. She looked up at the bar, and saw the barmaid carrying a large, steaming pie that she was sure belonged to her. Her mouth salivated immediately, and her mouth pulled into a large, genuine smile. She never even noticed Arlo standing there ordering as the barmaid walked past. The pie was set in front of her, and Qit'ria's eyes were the size of saucers. It was big, bulging with sauce and steam. The creamy sauce was leaking out of cracks in the top of the crust. And it smelled divine.

Then she heard Arlo speaking to her, she looked up at him, still smiling. Then back down to her pie, so excited to finally eat it. But then back to Arlo, and in a slight stammer, "Yes, while. Too long." The last bit wasn't actually directed at Arlo, but rather at the pie in front of her, and the grumble in her stomach. And just as she grabbed her fork, and was about to dive it into that succulent pie, yet another person was at her table, since apparently it was her table now.

Looking over at the woman, Qit just stared, trying to make out the words she'd heard. What was a pirates? Rum? Tits? Blasphemy? She had no idea. Rum was the easy one to figure out. She said drink, something about sharing. Qit'ria decided that whatever rum was, it couldn't be so bad. But she only had the one cup. So she drained the rest of her mead, and offered it out to the woman to pour her some of this 'rum'. "Sit. Share. The more, the hairier."

Anyone paying enough attention could see Qit's cheeks darkening as the mead took hold. She no longer noticed the pain in her chest from her wounds, but she also didn't notice that she didn't notice them. She relaxed a bit, setting her other arm off to the side, so her wounds were now visible. Qit's eyes were focused on the bottle of this rum, she didn't even see the Wind Whisperer walk in and sit behind the woman who so generously offered up her rum.
RunningTab
2 Meads - 2 GN
1 Pie - 8 CN

Running Total: 2 GN, 8 CN
Last edited by Qit'ria on Tue Feb 20, 2018 1:39 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Noth
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Pies and Pints (Open)

Mon Jan 15, 2018 5:08 pm

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People were more like moths than they likely believed, considered the twilight hybrid as he observed another person join their gradually growing entourage. There was some innate tendency in the minds of mortals that compelled them to gather together around sources of figurative light; a calm conversation between friends, laughter, or in more dire cases, simply someone who wasn’t constantly scowling and giving off accusatory glances. It was as if though some internal portion of their minds compensated for the inevitable sensation of loneliness by forcing them into social interaction with one another. Even he wasn’t entirely immune to that particular convention of unconscious thought, or else he wouldn’t have sat at the table in the first place, and would instead have chosen to simply stand near the door whilst he enjoyed his drink.

In short, people were interesting, albeit predictable, and the coming events certainly shouldn’t have come as a shock to anyone.

Noth observed as the redheaded woman approached their table, apparently at ease in her approach. Perhaps she had not noticed him, because she did not seem entirely afraid to draw near, or perhaps she was simply aware of his presence and did not matter. Strange, most persons found themselves somewhat shocked even by his mere appearance. The slight glint of metal caught his crimson eye, and he honed in on the presence of a sword, narrowing the orbs as he considered. She did not possess the look of an Element, nor did he think she was necessarily a warrior. Perhaps it was a ceremonial weapon? A deterrent against unwanted suitors? No, that seemed unlikely, after all, who would chase after her?

She took a seat besides the original woman, and introduced both herself and the table’s owner. He considered the names for several moments, rolling them silently over his tongue until he believed that he had gotten them correct. Soon, another personage approached, this one notably a male who appeared somewhat shocked that his redheaded companion had managed to beat him to the table. The twilight hybrid remained absolutely silent, satisfied with simply observing the social interaction between the newcomers. It was apparent that they were friends of some venue, or else they would not have so heartily joined the table. After all, he could have been a business contact, or-… not that did seem the most reasonable possibility.

Another person came, though this one had clearly been present within the establishment when he had first entered. He distinctly remembered her, and crimson eyes once again gazed upon her, attempting to discern why she would have chosen to abandon her simple meal for the company of others. Of course, that was the reason in and of itself, but Noth couldn’t envision why anyone with full mental faculty would ever choose it. In truthfulness, as yet another joined them, he began to wonder how many chairs were typical of these tables, and whether or not the entire event had been planned. Was he intruding upon a party of some manner, or could it simply be happenstance that so many people who knew one another would suddenly stumble into the same building at the same time, happen to see each other, and then decide that it would be a grandiose idea to all engage with one another at the same table.

“A pirate? So open about your profession? That seems… risky.” He uttered at last, finally breaking his silence as the young woman included her profession. He outstretched a gauntleted hand towards an empty cup, and slid it down the table towards the pirate who offered rum, questioning whether or not it was simply a social identity as opposed to a real indicator of employment. For example, was she only a pirate in name, or did she actually pillage and rob? Would an admission of that not be entirely illegal?

He found himself drawn back to the original occupant, the girl that had accepted everyone into her table without a seeming second thought. Was she gullible, or simply trusting of the others? If it was simply a friendship with everyone involved, then why would she allow his presence? Her logic, or potentially even lack-thereof confused him, and he found himself staring for several trills, attempting to discern anything that he could of her personality through her appearance. Eventually, he simply smiled at the girl, a warm facial gesticulation meant to put her at ease in regards to his presence, and went back to sitting silently as the others conversed.

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Credit to Pegasus


As a note: Noth is a Grandmaster in Intimidation. That means that he's at least as scary as the Count from Sesame Street. Beware.

"The tyrant confuses those he can't convince, corrupts those he can't confuse, and crushes those he can't corrupt." - Anonymous
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Vega
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Pies and Pints (Open)

Tue Jan 16, 2018 12:06 am

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Location: O'Rourkes
The bird had glowing red eyes. That was unnerving, ew. Qit'ria asked her where Arlo was and why they were so far this way and she shrugged slightly. "There's a tradition, on Scalvoris. Startin' tomorrow, three trials of givin' gifts. So we're givin' each other gifts." She nodded though, yes, Arlo was with her. Should she tell Qit'ria, Vega wondered and then, thoughts about what she should or should not disappeared from her head as Arlo arrived and Vega grinned at him. "No messin' about, me. Speedy. No lollygaggin', see?" She was pleased to see him, there was no doubt. Her eyes swirled in colours which he'd know, but she said nothing about it, just keeping quiet and waiting to see there. Then, a woman and a man joined the group and Vega watched with interest. What in the name of Moseke's pert butt was Qit'ria doing? Did she have some kind of sign up? Vega didn't like the avriel, he made her nervous. The woman didn't, she was overconfident and brash. Vega considered that, if it was a game of poker and the stakes were overconfident and brash? Well, she'd see her five and raise her twenty.

The man who joined them sat with her and Vega considered him, briefly. Now those were eyes and old soulful eyes stinky cheese man, or Friel in the Spirit of Adventure, he'd be hard pressed to beat them. The redhead watched him, as he joined, raised her ale to the two of them, the man and the woman, "Nice to meet ya. Vega. " She didn't introduce Arlo or Qit'ria at this point, it was starting to get like the inside of the local knocking shop when there was a half price sale on. Busy. Glancing at Qit, she looked half cut, Vega thought and she caught sight of the oozing sores on her chest.

But still, the Avriel unnerved her and she didn't like it. "Alrigh', so I don't think she said she was a pirate, chill yer beans." That was to Noth, not that she knew his name, come to think of it. Big Bird. Big Scary Bird. Big Scary Bird With One Wing "So, anyone actually live 'ere?" Glancing at Qit, Vega couldn't help but smile. "That good pie, Qit?" It looked it and she glanced at Arlo with a raised eyebrow. "Want some pie?" Vega wondered and then, because she was who she was, she turned to the others at the table. "Anyone? You brought the rum, I'll shout for pies if anyone wants one."
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