[Nexus] Trog's Tavern CCXLIV

[Reinholdt]

"Get me a standard human size mask and stuff and I'll be ok." Reinholdt says, drinking some more rum.

"On the other hand, more people slows us down and makes us easier to spot. What's down there?"

[Time for Never]

"Get me a standard human size mask and stuff and I'll be ok." Reinholdt says, drinking some more rum.

"On the other hand, more people slows us down and makes us easier to spot. What's down there?"

"You'd better hope it fits tight." said Deveric, bluntly.

He covered a yawn with his arm. The wine must have been stronger than he expected..

"To answer your question - only the remains of long deceased people for the most part. However, rumors of an especially bold necromancer experimenting there have surfaced in the last few years. I'm not sure whether she's evil per say, but she definitely likes to be left alone."

Deveric pulled out a few silver coins and placed them on the counter.

"Aside from her, there's the Revenant and Dharmaran to worry about. The Revenant are a sentient race of undead who have taken residence in the ruins. Last I heard, they had come into conflict with the aforementioned necromancer. Finally, the Dharmaran are a race not unlike humans. The difference is they are a cold, brutal group of talented fighters who fancy themselves the end of complacency and takers of the meek."

Deveric temporarily spaced out, thinking about somebody else who was most likely there. Reinholdt needn't worry about him, so he didn't mention it.

"How did I forget? There's also a large demigod who roams the ruins who eliminates perceived threats. It's an entire empire though, so the chances of us encountering it are very low." Deveric finished with a grin.

[Murkus]

For a moment, Ithuriel considers objecting. She is just doing her duty after all, however minor it might be. But, well, it would be rude to refuse an invitation like that. "My name is Ithuriel. I'll gladly join you at the bar. A little company and conversation is always welcome." She picks up her glass and heads over to the bar, her wings fading away as she goes. Not really all that comfortable sitting down with her wings out, she'd been about to dismiss them when the inventor had walked in. "And would perhaps favor me with your name as well?"

The tall man watches her wings disappear. "I'm called Sticks, milady." He never says anything about it being his name, however. When the tall man sits, it's beside Jacen, and he gestures at the two of them when the bartender passes by. "Their drinks are on me tonight." Sticks smiles pleasurably. "And a Merlot for me as well."

[Time for Never]

The tall man watches her wings disappear. "I'm called Sticks, milady." He never says anything about it being his name, however. When the tall man sits, it's beside Jacen, and he gestures at the two of them when the bartender passes by. "Their drinks are on me tonight." Sticks smiles pleasurably. "And a Merlot for me as well."

Sticks. Deveric had heard that name a long time ago. To be fair, he knew a lot of names seeing as how long he's been alive. Being ageless allows one to learn many things and names were no different. Still, this name in particular rang some bells within his head. Where had he heard it mentioned? He hadn't taken a good look at him when he walked in.

Deveric stole a curious glance out of the side of his eye. Tall, thin, and gangly was what described the man best. The ears were definitely that of an elf as well. And finally an observation of that odd, patch-worked cloak stirred up some vague descriptions in his head. Right, he knew now.

"I didn't realize you could taste wine with that silver tongue of yours" Deveric asserted.

[Murkus]

The tall man flicks his eyes over toward Deveric. Someone who'd heard of his shop, maybe? Or someone from his old travelling days? Since he'd gotten a college education, Sticks had travelled near and far. Not all his reputations have been... morally sound. Sideshow magician, mechanic, soul-snatching demon of the wastes in one special case. He would just hate for these people's view of him to be tarnished, especially if they were potential friends or customers.

"Do I know you, sir?" Sticks asks, polite tone never wavering.

[Time for Never]

The tall man flicks his eyes over toward Deveric. Someone who'd heard of his shop, maybe? Or someone from his old travelling days? Since he'd gotten a college education, Sticks had travelled near and far. Not all his reputations have been... morally sound. Sideshow magician, mechanic, soul-snatching demon of the wastes in one special case. He would just hate for these people's view of him to be tarnished, especially if they were potential friends or customers.

"Do I know you, sir?" Sticks asks, polite tone never wavering.

"I doubt it" stated Deveric casually. "But I know of you."

"I've heard merchant tales of you before. It seems more than a few have done business with you and more than a few happen to be superstitious and loose-tongued. I only know what I've been told - that you're a salesman, and a machine. An elf, and a wizard. .....Perhaps even a demon...?"

Deveric raised one of his eyebrows as he finished. There was a hint of suggestion in that question.

He emitted a short chuckle.

"Some people have the wildest imaginations."

[Reinholdt]

The cat seems unconcerned about the fit of the mask, despite the numerous blunt warnings he's getting.

"Huh. Haven't killed any gods lately. Demigod might tide me over until the next big one." Reinholdt ponders out loud.

"Not that I suggest we go looking for a fight. Bloody undead."
Rein doesn't like them! Not one bit!

Reinholdt glances over at Sticks, feeling the vague tingly feeling of knowing him from somewhere.
Of course, Reinholdt wasn't conscious at the time, so he'll never ever figure it out.

[Deathkeeper]

The pair sit silently listening to their neighbors talk. Well, audibly silent at least.
Boss, this is getting weird. And when's the food coming?
It got weird quite some time ago. Angels and Demons, indeed. And give it a minute!
Jace starts a bit, as if just remembering something. Turning and extending a hand to Ithuriel, Pardon me, ma'am, I've neglected to give you our names. I'm Jacen, although friend and foe alike usually drop the "n." My hungry companion is Zebes. He says hello.
Zebes gives her a small wave with a foreclaw.

[Gnrlshrimp]

"Sticks, hmm?" Ithuriel finishes her glass of wine, and out or politeness to Sticks, orders another.

'twould be impolite to pretend to accept his kind offer and then simply not drink a thing, just as it would be impolite to start ordering various bottles of expensive things. A glass or two of wine serves adequately as a means of being polite.

Sticks' conversation with Deveric causes Ithuriel to raise an eyebrow. Seems he has a rather colourful past. Still, best not to jump to conclusions."Rumours and superstitions are dangerous things. They can soil the reputation of someone if allowed to go unchecked. So if all you've been told about him is superstitious nonsense, I would say you don't truly know of him at all."

It's unwise to jump to conclusions, but it's better to be safe than sorry as well. The angel focuses her gaze on Stick for a few moments. If he is indeed even partially demonic or infernal in some way, she should be aware of it. Similarly, her gaze should give her some idea of how stained Stick's past is. No details mind you, consider it detect evil, but instead of just giving a flat yes or no it gives a general idea of how evil someone is.

And then she turns round and shakes Jacen's hand, "A pleasure to meet the two of you. Have you been here long, or are you a recent arrival?"

[TechnoScrabble]

She takes his hand!

John's hand is taken, and he is presumably magic-apported somewhere!

Also, he shudders a little at being touched. He's never appreciated physical contact with people.

[Dark Elf Bard]

Teleport to Outside!

[Deathkeeper]

[COLOR="Indigo"]
And then she turns round and shakes Jacen's hand, "A pleasure to meet the two of you. Have you been here long, or are you a recent arrival?"

Recent. Quite recent.
Zebes' natural tendency for chatter gets the better of him, and he reaches out telepathically to Ithuriel
The ritual to bond someone to a familiar is an old and powerful one. Unfortunately, it doesn't make either party more geographically conscious. So we get lost often.

[Murkus]

Sticks listens to the lot of them talk, back and forth. He smiles or nods at the appropriate moments, but otherwise remains reticent until they've finished. He looks at his wineglass when it arrives, right before clutching it in one of his spidery claws. "This gentleman's got the right idea," Sticks says, glancing over the assembled company. "Though I'm not a demon - I'm not sure why any demon with half a brain would be chatting with an angel. The rest of it's... true to varying degrees." Sticks shrugs.

Ithuriel's scrutiny will turn up some definite stains on his soul, but he isn't so far gone as to be called 'evil'. He has no will or stomach for truly heinous activities.

[Time for Never]

Sticks listens to the lot of them talk, back and forth. He smiles or nods at the appropriate moments, but otherwise remains reticent until they've finished. He looks at his wineglass when it arrives, right before clutching it in one of his spidery claws. "This gentleman's got the right idea," Sticks says, glancing over the assembled company. "Though I'm not a demon - I'm not sure why any demon with half a brain would be chatting with an angel. The rest of it's... true to varying degrees." Sticks shrugs.

Ithuriel's scrutiny will turn up some definite stains on his soul, but he isn't so far gone as to be called 'evil'. He has no will or stomach for truly heinous activities.

Deveric nods as if he had anticipated Sticks's answer. Some of those who he talked to had seemed like tale-spinners who would exaggerate any story. Still, he didn't mention the part involving the cloak of souls. The capturing and bartering of souls usually wasn't something angels were fond of, regardless of whether he stole them or not. After a couple of moments Deveric turns to look at Sticks.

"In any case, you are a merchant, that much is certain. As such I'm confident that you'll seize most any opportunity to make yourself even just slightly richer, no? Well, I just so happen to be in need of a new arm."

Pulling off his right gauntlet, Deveric reveals a clockwork arm akin to Mr. Sticks's but more advanced.

"...This one is getting a tad dated."

[Gnrlshrimp]

Ithuriel nods, nothing beyond what she'd expect from Sticks then.

Few people can claim to have an entirely clean past, not even her. And she's an angel.

Zebe's telepathy doesn't generate any sort of visible reaction from her. Once upon a time she'd probably have reacted quite violently to something so invasive, but such behaviour would not be appropriate for an angel. "As I said, infernal creatures are just as welcome here as celestial. Outside of this environment, a demon would be unwise to attempt such actions, yes. But here you can never be sure. Wherever possible I choose to withhold judgement until I see something unlawful."

Unlawful being the appropriate word here, though Ithuriel herself leans more towards the chaotic end of things. But within a place such as Inside where there is a governing body of some sorts laying down the law, she sticks to it.

"It would seem in this case that rumours have been a boon for you, Sticks." Ithuriel says with a smile, turning back to Jacen and Zebe. "Well, a word of advice then for you and your companion. It is generally considered impolite to poke at people with your mind without giving some warning or asking for permission first." Her eyes lock onto Zebe's, but there's no anger there, just a warning. "I appreciate it can be hard to give warning if you rely entirely on telepathy, but some people can be very paranoid about such things."

[Deathkeeper]

Jace blinks in surprise. He then sighs, running a hand through his hair.
You're right, of course. Which is why I normally talk for him, he says, shooting Zebes a look.
I-but...sorry...
His ears visibly droop.

[Hattish Thing]

A man strides into the tavern, as drunk as he is frightening. He walks with a crutch that used to be composed of sleek ebony wood. Now, there's a piece chipped off, the handle is slightly dented, and the crutch has odd brownish, rust-colored stains. He wears a long navy coat, now ripped up at the bottom, several bullet holes in the back of the long coat. He wears his wide-brimmed, ripped hat. He has a brown-grey messy beard, that matches his long grey hair. His left leg is wooden, and clunks as he walks. He wears ripped up gloves, and black trousers. He has some kind of leather armor underneath the coat. He takes yet another swig from the hip flask at his belt before moving over to the barkeep. You! Fill 'er up again! The hardest spirits you got! He stares at Sticks for a second. Wot the hell do you have for an arm?

[FireFox]

A young woman walks in, slender and with a fey appearance that distinguishes her from humans, if her vibrant purple hair and eyes didn't do that already. She's wearing a strikingly clean white duster coat and Stetson hat and carries two saddle bags. She hesitates in the doorway, looking around the room with the lost, confused look indicative of a newcomer to the Nexus, then walks over to an empty table and sits down.

[Reinholdt]

Reinholdt sees that, for the time being his conversation partner is interested in this merchant. Well until the hunting party gets going, that's no biggie.

In the meantime, the cat waves to the newcomer. And buys a drink to send, compliments of the kitty.

[Chaotic Bob]

Just as she has done every day for awhile now, the cloaked figure with the purple hair scrawls little notes, from her place off to the side.

"Oh, there's so many races. I'm not sure we've covered all the variables in the unification theory."
You worry about race, when there are more complicated variables. Calm yourself, Sparkle. The theory is correct.
The pencil is placed next to a packed-tight-with-scrawl journal and a little sigh released.
"Just need to start making the array now, then."
Quickly now. Your friends have an expectation we must uphold.
Day after day of observation and quite notation of the activities within the tavern, the central hub of this city's diversity.
Time to put that work to use.

A violet glow looms from under the table, and a single large symbol scrawls itself into its underbelly.

Just a short little job, before she can let herself leave the tavern for the last time.

[Zefir]

Tovpir, the stone/crystal skorpion, shakes of the deadtime he was caught in. He takes a sip of his drink before his attention goes around the Tavern. Maybe there is someone not frightend of his appereance, which is very rare.

[Murkus]

Spoiler

Show

A man strides into the tavern, as drunk as he is frightening. He walks with a crutch that used to be composed of sleek ebony wood. Now, there's a piece chipped off, the handle is slightly dented, and the crutch has odd brownish, rust-colored stains. He wears a long navy coat, now ripped up at the bottom, several bullet holes in the back of the long coat. He wears his wide-brimmed, ripped hat. He has a brown-grey messy beard, that matches his long grey hair. His left leg is wooden, and clunks as he walks. He wears ripped up gloves, and black trousers. He has some kind of leather armor underneath the coat. He takes yet another swig from the hip flask at his belt before moving over to the barkeep. You! Fill 'er up again! The hardest spirits you got! He stares at Sticks for a second. Wot the hell do you have for an arm?

Ithuriel nods, nothing beyond what she'd expect from Sticks then.

Few people can claim to have an entirely clean past, not even her. And she's an angel.

Zebe's telepathy doesn't generate any sort of visible reaction from her. Once upon a time she'd probably have reacted quite violently to something so invasive, but such behaviour would not be appropriate for an angel. "As I said, infernal creatures are just as welcome here as celestial. Outside of this environment, a demon would be unwise to attempt such actions, yes. But here you can never be sure. Wherever possible I choose to withhold judgement until I see something unlawful."

Unlawful being the appropriate word here, though Ithuriel herself leans more towards the chaotic end of things. But within a place such as Inside where there is a governing body of some sorts laying down the law, she sticks to it.

"It would seem in this case that rumours have been a boon for you, Sticks." Ithuriel says with a smile, turning back to Jacen and Zebe. "Well, a word of advice then for you and your companion. It is generally considered impolite to poke at people with your mind without giving some warning or asking for permission first." Her eyes lock onto Zebe's, but there's no anger there, just a warning. "I appreciate it can be hard to give warning if you rely entirely on telepathy, but some people can be very paranoid about such things."

Deveric nods as if he had anticipated Sticks's answer. Some of those who he talked to had seemed like tale-spinners who would exaggerate any story. Still, he didn't mention the part involving the cloak of souls. The capturing and bartering of souls usually wasn't something angels were fond of, regardless of whether he stole them or not. After a couple of moments Deveric turns to look at Sticks.

"In any case, you are a merchant, that much is certain. As such I'm confident that you'll seize most any opportunity to make yourself even just slightly richer, no? Well, I just so happen to be in need of a new arm."

Pulling off his right gauntlet, Deveric reveals a clockwork arm akin to Mr. Sticks's but more advanced.

"...This one is getting a tad dated."

Sticks leaves Jacen and Ithuriel to talk for now. He replies only to the angel, and briefly at that, saying, "So it would seem." With that, the tall man returns his attention to Deveric. Upon the initial request, his expression may have been apprehensive, but it's all business now. There's an uncharacteristic gleam in his eye as he says, "I'd be happy to update your arm, sir. Though it will be quite an undertaking, for a humble tinkerer like myself."

At that, the grizzled old stranger interjects, gesturing crudely at Sticks' spindly limb. The tall man smiles his best smile and jumps right back into that polite talk of his. "Copper wire and gypsy magic, mostly." He flexes one set of needle-thin fingers. "Is there something I can do for you?"

[Hattish Thing]

Clegg Thenardier growld out his slurred words, resting his wooden leg. The wood reaches up to the grizzled man's thight, made of wood, and some copper. He has a strange left eye as well, it's glass. He sets his crutch to lean against the bar. Tha' depends, don't i'? Ah hah ha! What is it ye do? Fancy arm and such, I got a wooden leg...battle wound! A scorpion...giant. Fun in th' desert...Ye wouldn't 'appen t' know much about lost treasure...eh? Ye adventure? Hm? He takes another swig, his glass eye popping out, but Clegg catches it with lightning reflexes, even when drunk. He jams it backwars in his eye socket.

[Zefir]

The giant stone scorpion next to Thenardier replies as he mentions the scorpion. It's not directed at him, just spoken out in front.

"Your lucky your alife. A real giant scorpion wouldn't leave you halv done."

[Gnrlshrimp]

"No need to apologise to me. I don't mind at all." The angel's just trying to make sure Zebes is a little more cautious.

"If he wants to talk to me telepathically, that's fine. Just remember to ask first next time, alright?" she says with a smile. No hard feelings here.

[metakirb]

A young demon girl walks in, and, after a brief look around, sits down at an empty table, running a hand through her hair and sighing.

[Deathkeeper]

That made Jace feel better. The pair have had a history of Zebes getting them in trouble.
Alright, no big deal this time, but why'd you break from our system, buddy?
Sorry, Boss. I just really hate sitting around without being able to talk to anyone.
I know. I- oh look, food's here.
Zebes gleefully pounces on the plate, although manages to avoid making a mess.
Jace turns to Ithuriel. So anyway ma'am, what's your story for being here?

[metakirb]

After looking around for a while and determining that whoever she's looking for isn't there, the demon girl gets up and heads to leave.

[Gnrlshrimp]

"My story? It's quite a long one. But I suppose the short version is that as an angel I'm capable of going where I'm needed fairly quickly and easily. A place like the Nexus is always full of people in need of help anyway, so there's always something for me to do. And when there's no divine request for my service, this is a pretty good place to spend my free time anyway."

The long version features attempted murder, actual murder, and vampires.

And that's just to begin with.

[Deathkeeper]

Oh, good to know the wonky place we ended up is one we've never heard of. Great. Jace smiles.
Now you've got me jealous. He wasn't kidding; we get lost real often when we don't have specific destinations in mind. But it's not too bad. If there's one thing we do have, it's free time.
He picks up his glass and takes a sip.