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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Noth
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Pies and Pints (Open)

Tue Mar 13, 2018 5:06 pm

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There was little doubt that the hybrid could feel the pressure mounting in his hand as the savage woman drug him across the establishment to an open place where dancing of some sort might commence without interfering with the other guests; their sensibilities might be offended, but at least they wouldn’t be stricken by an off-beat kick of the foot, or an ill-timed lash of the hand. They came to a halt as they reached their desired destination, and he felt warmth begin to flourish across his chest as her hand pressed against the woolen shirt he donned. Admittedly, it wasn’t an altogether uncomfortable feeling, and whilst he didn’t feel terribly attracted to the savage, he could certainly do worse.

There was a touch of uncomfortableness which followed the eyes of the room looking toward him, but that didn’t bother the hybrid so much as the potential political implications. If he were seen dancing here, and was identified as the Prince of Eternal Mercies, would he face ridicule from his peers and subservient soldiers for the act? After all, he was a renowned serial killer and murderer, and the very thought of him engaging in something so… flowery, was anathema to that idea. Logic dictated, however, that it was an incredibly unlikely event that those persons in Etzos would ever learn of the events that occurred tonight in a Scalvoris tavern, especially with so many of the patrons drunken out of their minds, and so he decided to proceed with his original plan without reservation.

The woman seemed as though she had been created solely for the sake of exemplifying the most tribal and savage traits of society, and it came as little surprise when she began to dance to the beat of the drums. They reminded him vaguely of the loud thrumming sounds which played when a battle was about to commence, and his thoughts briefly flickered back to a war in which he had fought several skirmishes, first against the forces of Faldrun, and then against the warrior women of Augiery, and… finally against a squad of his own people, slaying them quietly in the chaos of the battle so that they could no longer plague him with their ridicule.

She began to dance as best she was able, and whilst the hybrid certainly couldn’t have competed even with the meagre skills she displayed, he recognized that she was not in any sense a professional. That said, he hadn’t assumed that she was, and so he wasn’t disappointed by the sight of the woman beginning to undulate herself to the best of her ability in order to showcase her prowess. Once she had begun to find her rhythm, her eyes opened once again to the world, and her hand was removed from its resting place upon his chest. Had he acted as a pillar for her, assisting her so that she would not stumble and fall whilst attempting her clumsy maneuvers?

He felt another pressure press against his gauntlet as she took hold of his hand. He was promptly informed that knowing all of the moves to the dance was not necessary; evidenced enough by her own attempts at it, and the gauntlet was allowed once more to fall limply at his side. He considered this for several moments before giving a subtle nod, as though he had accepted his fate. Being capable of different social interactions could prove useful in the future if he was ever required to attend a gala or social event for the sake of acquiring further political power, and he could see few downsides to actually engaging in the dance. Besides, his current objective relied heavily upon his ability to… groove.

Nevertheless, the mind wants what the body cannot perform, and he stood dumbfounded for several trills, calculating through the various movements that he could perform before finally just submitting himself entirely to the instinctual movements he wished. His talons began to rap against the wooden floor, at first, sounding somewhat discordant in relation to the beat of the drums, but quickly they began to find the rhythm of the beats, slashing against the wooden floor in time with the drums as he began to carefully stalk around the woman, not altogether unlike a predator encircling its prey. With each step, his talons would click in time with the music, moving faster as it went faster, slower as it slowed.

The song began to crescendo, and he encircled at ever-increasing speed, looking somewhat strange to outside observer, he imagined. When he had circled behind the woman once again and the song had begun to reach its triumphant climax, he allowed his wing to suddenly snap outwards, aiming to wrap around her, engulf her in its massive feathery mass, and re-direct her so that she would lay tightly against him, his hands taking hold of her sides.

He looked down towards her with a curious expression, as though questioning whether or not he had performed well enough with his escapade.
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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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Qit'ria
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Pies and Pints (Open)

Thu Mar 29, 2018 1:44 am

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QIt'ria continued to undulate her stomach, rotate her hips, shimmy her shoulders, her hungry eyes watching as the man considered her challenge. She could see his crimson eyes were deep in thought. He was a deep thinker. She'd have to get him to stop that, to just go with what he felt. She wasn't sure how, but she was fully intending on stopping the thoughts.

Or would've, but after several long moments, he did it of his own accord and she smirked, satisfied. She heard the clicks to the beat of the music and looked down to see his talons at work. She clicked her tongue to match them, bouncing her head with the beat as he got into it as well. And then he began to move, eyes locked on her in their dance of predators. His talons carved light grooves in the wood, and Qit's smile opened up into a hissing snarl, baring her teeth at the man, eyes never wavering.

He circled around her as the music sped up, and she occasionally lunged her torso out at him, to see if he'd flinch or waver. But he didn't. His eyes didn't shake from her own. On one of these lunges, this man's wing snapped out in all of its glory, and wrapped itself around Qit, pulling her into his torso. Several people gasped and oohed around the bar, but Qit neither noticed nor cared. She could feel the power of his heart thudding against her hands, pinned between her breasts and his firm chest.

She looked up at him and broke into teasing, feral grin. She felt his touch on her sides, listened to his heart, and looked longingly into the bright, glowing eyes of his. She gave him a single nod, to affirm that he'd done well, better than even. She leaned into his chest, placing her cheek against the muscle, to feel better feel that power within it. She then reached down and grabbed his unarmored hand, and made to pull him back to the table. That's when she noticed that everyone was staring at them. But before she could snarl at the lot of them, the bard started into another song, a slower, softer one, reading the room well. And people went back to minding their own damn business.

Just as she got back, she noticed the others had left, and there was a single steaming meat pie there, right in the center of the table. She felt a flurry of butterflies in her stomach as she grew closer, knowing what she wanted, and what she wanted to do. She took a deep breath, and grabbed her stuff, threw some coins on the table, not bothering to count or care what kind they were, and grabbed the pie. Turning back to Noth, she didn't ask, didn't command, didn't say a single word. Rather, she just cast him a sly look, then shifted her eyes to the door.

Sauntering over, carrying the pie she bought him, she put on her cloak by the door, and turned toward him, a nervous smirk on her face. Her tent wasn't far. And she had every intention of bringing him back there. For pie. She'd never done anything like this before, with anyone. But she wasn't about to back down now. She wanted him, fiercely. And she had his dinner in hand. Tio had said all men want to be bought dinner first. And so there she waited, hoping he joined her. It was starting to get truly cold these nights. A warm body, particularly one as strong and intimidating as this one, would be most welcomed. She gulped nervously once more, waiting, hoping to not be stood up.

Her tent was only a few bits walking away from the tavern, just outside Almund proper, in a small copse, right near the graveyard, tucked into the only spot that seemed to not be being battered by wind. Her fire was mere coals, but the furs that acted as her bed were warmed by the strange logs she'd acquired the season prior. And there was more than enough space for two, should Noth decide to join her there.
Running Tab
2 Meads - 2 GN
2 Pie - 1 SN, 6 CN
Tip - 2gn, 6sn, 2 cn
Running Total: 4 GN, 7 SN
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Noth
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Pies and Pints (Open)

Tue Apr 03, 2018 3:17 pm

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Noth
Feathered Fiend


There seemed to be little that could possibly dissuade the woman before him from her dance. She seemed intent on continuing, and whilst he could recognize that she was certainly not an expert on technique, her enthusiasm more than made up for it. It seemed as if though every portion of her body was engaged in the act, as though each piece had determined what its function would be for the duration of the music, a perfect collaboration of flesh to create something at least somewhat akin to proper art. He, in contrast, displayed perhaps even less talent than the woman, and whilst she seemed to be satisfied with his performance, for the most part much of his dance consisted of simply moving in time.

Thankfully, that seemed to have worked well enough to meet her challenge, and he took heed of the way that her eyes never left his form, constantly watching him in much the same way that he would watch his own prey. He met the gaze with his own, understanding innately that it was always best to keep an eye on someone that considered him to potentially be prey, so that he might assert himself as the predator. The general aura of terror that resided alongside him at all times did wonder for such assertions of power, and he had been fully capable of frightening away even large predatory beasts with the simple extension of his wing and the deathly gaze he lay upon them.

He felt the slivers of wood begin to build up underneath his talons after each raking step, only to be dispelled outwards after they tapped downwards against the hard floor, though he paid them little mind, his attention placed almost entirely upon the young woman. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he could perceive the owner of the establishment considering complaining about the damage, but he must certainly have decided against it, because not a sound was uttered to either of the pair.

Occasionally as they danced, the woman would lunge her chest forward. The movement was sudden and quick, and the hybrid found it to be somewhat… interesting since it was at least vaguely different from the other forms of her dance. Nevertheless, he never shied away from her, unafraid of her making collision with him since it would result in him being essentially unharmed. It did, however, present an opportune time to utilize perhaps one of the few combat maneuvers he had practiced in the past as an impromptu dance move. The way that he grappled her with his wing, and drew her closer to him had previously only been used in order to subdue and eliminate targets, but simply refusing to carry through with the remainder of the attack; the parts that actually caused violence would be ignored, made the movement a decently entertaining affair. He could hear the gasps and excited exhalations of the crowd as he paused, feeling the woman pressed close against him.

He had missed this sort of physical intimacy, he realized as she grinned upwards at him, the heat emanating between them. It was something that he hadn’t had the opportunity to experience often in life, and so when rare occasions provided the chance for him to enjoy it, he took them. Perhaps… he wanted more than the simple holding and pressing of bodies, however, something that was innately wired into the minds of most persons, and yet something that had been denied to him for his terrible visage or else his awful conduct. Unconsciously, he felt his hands begin to drift downwards upon her form, managing to cover a distance of a couple of inches before he regained control over the exploring limbs and they snapped to a complete halt.

Thankfully, the situation was rectified when she led him back towards the table, taking hold of his hand and guiding him back. He noted once again that all of the others had abandoned her, and briefly uttered, “Nice friends.” It was a sarcastic comment, but he delivered it dryly, allowing her to make her own conclusions on whether it was a sincere message or not. The scent of something delightful tickled his nostrils, and he found himself gazing with increasing desire towards the meat pie, now gracefully being held by the woman who had rather quickly determined that she needed to be elsewhere. He caught the subtle shift of her eyes towards the door, the beckoning signals traveling easily through the air. He might not have been experienced with taking someone home from a tavern, but he was certainly not an idiot who couldn’t pick up on what was happening either.

His original plan did rely on him going back to her tent, he considered rapidly, crimson eyes locked onto her form, occasionally flickering towards the pie in her hand. He couldn’t really argue with getting a free meal out of it either, could he? It was not as if though anything would necessarily happen, either… he was just going to retrieve some food and a free shelter for the night.

The hybrid nodded, smirking at the woman as he strode towards her and the exit, fully intent on leaving with her, and following her back to wherever she resided.

Yes, he’d go have pie… and perhaps he’d even get to sleep. Perhaps.


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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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Qit'ria
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Pies and Pints (Open)

Sat Apr 14, 2018 8:10 pm

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Her eyes danced in excitement to see that he was coming toward her, accepting her subtle-yet-not-so subtle offer. She watched him stalking toward her, feeling the excitement stirring up within her. This feeling truly was a first for her, and she was loving every moment of it. She bit her lower lip as he came closer, and upon arriving at her side, she pulled open the door, letting the flurries of snow and biting cold wash over the heated huntress and her prey. She slipped her arm around his, feeling the hard muscle of his feathery bicep. She leaned into him a bit, much more affectionate than anyone might have ever expected of the huntress, especially those who knew her well enough to consider her almost a friend.

She walked slowly out into the bristling cold, not so much really pulling Noth, but she was steering them along. A cat call rang out from inside the bar just as the door was shut, but it went unheard by Qit. She was enjoying the feel of leaning into his warmth, juxtaposed with the refreshing chill of the wintry air. Qit'ria had no need to speak, she much rather preferred to not. Talk truly cheapened things, and this walk was the best thing that'd happened to her all season. The huntress was drunk enough to be relaxed, enough to not feel the pain of the curse marks upon her chest, and yet sober enough to keep her mind on the task at hand, to recognizing that warmth welling up within, increasing with each step they took toward her tent.

Qit'ria's gaze cast skyward, toward the halfway obscured moons. The clouds were heavy, scattered, but still let enough light through to give a glow to the town. This town truly was a mixed bag in Qit'ria's mind. It was where she'd arrived a few seasons back, having railroaded that pale, birthmarked man and his sister in letter her live with them for a tentrial. It was where she'd been spirited away to that damn graveyard to earn those curse marks in the first place. It was where she'd met that fisherman who spoke unintelligible Common, who for some reason couldn't kill an Irawaddie. He'd lost her harpoon too. She planned to make him pay her back for that too.

Through the pure snow they walked, in a town of vagabonds, thieves, and cutthroats, and yet it seemed none would interrupt them this night. Perhaps it was luck. Perhaps it was the aura around the mixed blood that attracted Qit to him in the first place. Soon, they left the edge of town, and it wasn't long until her camp came into view. The fire was mostly coals with the smallest spiral of smoke coming off of it. She pulled away from Noth for a moment, stooping down next to the firepit. Grabbing her coal stirring stick, she poked at the ashes, pleased to see the warm glow reveal itself. She quickly gathered some sticks and logs from her pile and built a warming fire. It didn't take long for the tinder to catch. She set the pie upon one of the outlying stones, to let it heat back up after the walk. As the fire began to grow, the reflector wall she built from logs with a hide draped over cast much of the heat back toward the tent.

Standing up now, she took Noth by the hand once more, looking up at him, "Let warm up." Then turning away from him, she pushed her way into her roomy tent, not even needing to duck beneath the ceiling, tugging him along behind her. Furs were scattered about the floor, of many differing beasts, all slain by her own hand. There were lumps along the sides of the tent under the furs from the magical logs she'd acquired that stay permanently warm. Her desire and nervousness were battling within her as she turned to face the man. She picked up his armored hand, holding it between them, and began to try and remove it. Her fingers were fumbling from nervousness, spurred on by her need. And the insistence would continue, she wanted to undress him herself, to see how strong his body truly was, though she already knew it to be. And all the while, casting him nervous glances with a furtive grin.
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Noth
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Tue Apr 17, 2018 3:03 pm

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Noth
Feathered Fiend


The excitement seemed to pour off of the young woman in waves as he accepted her offer to leave. He found himself observing her carefully for any sign as to her intention, although he had already made a pretty good assumption of what they would do when they had finally reached her home. She slipped her arm around his own, pressing against him ever-so-slightly and they began the trek out into the wintery chill. The way that her arm had snaked around his own called to mind a similar memory, one that he had shared with his beloved back in Etzos. He had decided to take her on a date to the local museum, they he had simultaneously desired to get an artifact appraised by one of his chief minions. When they had walked, they had walked not altogether so similarly to how they moved now. He supposed that some things were quite similar, even across an ocean of distance.

He sucked in a breath of the chilling and frigid air, feeling it run directly through his windpipe and into his lung, filling it with coldness before he exhaled, observing as the warmed air was released back outwards with visible exhalation. It would likely grow far colder as the night drew ever onward, he considered, and promptly began to question just how warm his sleeping conditions would be at the new destination. The Inn for all of his price had actually been quite comfortable in terms of sleeping conditions, and were it not for the fact that he was gradually running quite low on golden nels, he might have simply attempted to remain there again for the night. Thankfully, he had decided to visit the tavern to-trial, and had run into an alternative to that particular issue.

There was a brief flicker of alcohol which touched his nostrils as he faced the woman, and he considered just how drunk she must have been to be dragging him home with her. It was actually rather surprising that she would even bother given his physical appearance, and yet, she seemed entirely unbothered by it. He doubted it had anything to do with his personality, either, because he had spoken relatively little at the table, and had indulged few in little more than minor glances and glares. Besides, she had wanted to dance with him, not hold a conversation, and so he assumed that she must simply have been drawn to something about his physiology. Perhaps she was simply a deviant drawn to the things that others would consider repulsive. He supposed either the alcohol or her own natural impulses had guided her to this point, and in truth, he didn’t particularly care which was responsible.

He allowed the woman to guide him towards their destination, recognizing that he had absolutely no idea where they were going, and that as a local she was likely aware of the safer pathways to travel in the dark anyways. It was not as if though the hybrid could not handle themselves if they were assailed by anyone, but it would be somewhat unfortunate if she were killed in the ensuing conflict and he was forced to slink back to the Inn. He chided himself briefly over how melancholic and heartless his thoughts had become, but promptly reasoned that his actions often relied on it. Eventually, they managed to maneuver their way through the town without any issue, the hybrid aware that his own presence coupled with the woman’s guidance likely prevented any conflict from arising.

The destination became visible when the hybrid took notice of the firelight. It seemed that it had grown very near to smoldering in her absence, and she seemed intent on rectifying the issue, finally abandoning her vice upon his arm and moving to assist the fire in its consumption. The heat radiating out of the fire began to grow exponentially as it lapped away with vicious thirst at the logs she placed upon it, and the hybrid made a mental note that the fire would likely last a fair while throughout the night given the amount that she’d granted it.

Once more, the woman approached him, taking hold of his hand and leading him towards the nearby tent. She didn’t seem at all averse to all of the touching she was inflicting, though it was impossible to tell whether that was simply the way she was, or whether the alcohol had utterly annihilated any inhibitions she had in regards to space. Nevertheless, he didn’t particularly mind all of the physical sensation, especially since he received so little of it that wasn’t tainted with violence. He was led into the tent, talons running across the furs upon the floor with a sound not dissimilar to a blade escaping from a sheath; it seemed that she was a more than capable hunter, or else that she had learned how to entrap and snare the wild creatures of the forest. Briefly, he glanced about her person for any weapons, his own natural caution ensuring that this wasn’t an elaborate plan to skin him like the beasts below. He found himself staring directly at her, captivated suddenly by the scenario he had found himself in. He had never thought that he’d be wanted in a way such as this, even by Nightshade, because he recognized that he was not… an appealing sort.

In truth, it worried him somewhat, because he wasn’t entirely certain of what he was meant to be doing, though he kept his face steely and serious, crimson eyes locked wholly on the woman, the deceptive mask attained after arcs of practice. Some part of him deep within rumbled ever so slightly, yearning for something that he had not yet possessed, desiring something new and fresh and different than the bloodshed and the agony. That animalistic portion of himself that derived from his Avriel blood was kept restrained except for when he fought, and then allowed to display its savagery, and yet, as he felt her fingers dance across the gauntlet he wore, making contact with his flesh in the process, there was a request from the inner animal that requested to be let free from its mental prison.

He didn’t love her. In fact, he wasn’t even particularly sure that he liked her all that much. She spoke poorly in a way that made him think that she was foreign and likely somewhat incompetent in the common speech that made up much of communication. Beyond that, something about her screamed of illiteracy and the unintelligible grumblings of persons who shun themselves from society and become little more than bipedal beasts. She wasn’t ugly, but she certainly wasn’t the most captivating woman he’d ever met either, and crimson eyes briefly glanced towards her chest where he thought he could perceive a rather irritated wound of some manner. Yet, the want didn’t subside because of the mediocrity, and he felt as the gauntlet slipped from his hand and onto the floor below.

And he realized with a sigh that it wasn’t the only thing he wanted to be on the floor.

The freed hand took hold of her arm, pulling her closer to him, its companion raising up to hook around her hip and keep her close. He leaned in nearer to her, their relative statures making it easy to whisper into her ear, and he indulged himself in two simple words.

“Clothes. Off.”
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Last edited by Noth on Wed Apr 18, 2018 2:33 am, edited 1 time in total.
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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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Qit'ria
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Pies and Pints (Open)

Tue Apr 17, 2018 6:20 pm

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The butterflies in Qit'ria's stomach kicked up a storm as the man pulled her close into him. There was no turning back now, and she most certainly didn't want to. Something within her was turning feral in her desire for this man, and when he ordered her to strip, it came forth. She shoved into his chest, pushing him back from her, forcefully, accompanied with a snarling his. The predator had returned to her eyes. And with it, her fingers worked quickly, removing her blouse, with no small clothes beneath.

Her fingers hooked into her trousers, dragging them down with the loin cloth she wore beneath it, kicking them off to the side of the tent. Qit'ria now stood before him, baring all, the hungry predator look back in her eyes. He could see her small breasts, her exposed ribs from being a bit too skinny, and the wide variety of scars all over her person. Her hips flared, the only truly feminine feature to her slight form, her sex obscured by a thick patch of hair.

She nodded down toward his trousers to indicate that he was to follow suit. And once he had, she admired his body, its strength and solid nature. And she could see what he wanted, and had no desire to deny herself to him. She slowly knelt down to the furs, keeping her eyes on him as she did. She then sat down, and slowly rolled backwards to lying down. A single finger of hers was pointed up to him, before it curled toward her and began gesturing him to follow her down to her bed, a wicked smile upon her face.

Several breaks later....

Qit'ria was breathing heavily as she laid her head atop the man's chest, listening to his pounding heart, rising and falling with his own breaths. She purred, as one of her fingers teased at the claw mark she'd left in his chest, amused by the feathers there. She was sore, but immensely satisfied. She was smiling as she adjusted a bit, to get more comfortable, pulling a halfrein hide blanket over top them. She still hadn't caught his name, but she didn't need it. She'd remember him from this moment, she'd remember him by his eyes. She'd remember every moment of their lovemaking, her first lovemaking. And Qit'ria's smile grew, as she drifted asleep atop this stranger, one of the best nights of sleep she'd had since she'd acquired her curse marks.
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Alistair
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Pies and Pints (Open)

Mon May 07, 2018 12:06 pm

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Qit'ria


Knowledge
Skill
Resistance: The warm fuzzy feelings from your first beer
Etiquette: A bottle of rum is meant to be shared
Resistance: Rum is a lot stronger than mead
Discipline: Choosing to not attack someone in a bar
Dancing: Matching the movements of your hips to the drums
Dancing: Shuffle your hips forward and back
Dancing: Undulating your bare stomach
Dancing: Rotating your hips
Dancing: Shimmying your shoulders
Seduction: Challenging the other to match your own seduction
Seduction: Use lots of eye contact
Seduction: Give what they want, take what you want

Loot: 2 Meads -2 GN
2 Pie -1 SN, 6 CN
Tip -2gn, 6sn, 2 cn
Running Total: -4 GN, 7 SN
Injuries: Pregnancy isn't an injury! Well... I mean. Kind of.
Renown: Small (+10)

Points 15

Max


Knowledge
Skill
Etiquette: Sharing a Bottle with Strangers
Detection: A Force to be Reckoned with
Discipline: Facing an Intimidating Entity
Discipline: Remaining Despite Fear
Deception: Lie of Omission
Investigation: Asking About Origin
Resistance: Using Liquor to Keep Warm
Seduction: Simple, Suggestive Commands

Non-Skill
Location: Mad O'Rourke's
Arlo: Vega's Man
Vega: The Tough Red-Head
Qit: Reckless in Choice of Suitor

Loot: Rum Bottle: -10GN
Soup: -5CN
Injuries: N/A
Renown: Small (+10)

Points 15

Arlo


Knowledge
Skill
None requested

Non-Skill
None requested

Loot: -2 GN
Injuries: N/A
Renown: Small (+10)

Points 15

Vega


Knowledge
Detection: Spotting Arlo in a bar
Discipline: Showing fear through being a brat
Resistance: Whiskey

Loot: -3 sn
Injuries: N/A
Renown: Small (+10)

Points 15

Noth


Knowledge
Skill
Resistance: Drinking Some Booze
Dance: Combat Moves Are Easily Adapted.
Dancing: Keeping a Rhythm.
Dancing: A Way of Getting Close.
Endurance: Not Tiring Out Whilst Dancing
Endurance: Performing A Strenuous Activity for 'Several Breaks'
Seduction: Eye-Contact.
Etiquette: Accepting Gifts.
Etiquette: Polite Conversation
Intimidation: Questioning Fiercely
Business Management: Why Spend Money When There's a Free Alternative
Business Management: Musicians Draw Business

Loot: N/A
Injuries: N/A
Renown: Small (+10)

Points 15

Comments: Erm... well. That was a lot. Scalv threads are too big, breh. Won't really comment individually because I'd go grey in the face from death, but I appreciated the wildness that went down here lol, also RIP Max used to be able to have opinions and freely do things but then she had to go cray cray. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

All I can really say is - I'm really totally not glad I found the thread where Noth impregnated Qit'ria, but I'll use this knowledge along with Nightshade to plot your mutual downfall. Yer done, kid. Ya finished.

Not a lot of renown to go around; this was a fairly contained bar thread so I couldn't really justify anything over small. Some of the PCs I was gonna give slight, but I dunno. It was a long thread and these big open ones scarcely get finished, so I think you all deserve a bit!
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