The orc grins back. "Ah, see, it's not unusual to see a dapper orc." Continuing with the topic at hand, he speaks. "And, staring could also get you into a bare-fisted brawl fight, if you stare at the wrong person." He yawns."Stimulating conversation here, boy. Is this how you usually win over girls?"
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A flurry of light and some wild winds may be observed outside the tavern, and out of seemingly nothingness Sam and Sammy step out. Sam is dressed in his usual, khaki pants with a light blue dress shirt, the top few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up, his bag hanging off one shoulder and his staff in hand. His sister is beside him with an excited look on her cute face. She's wearing a beautiful skirt, slit up one side, that seems to reflect the colors of the Aurora Borealis, and a flattering top with long sleeves that goes down to just above her navel. Wedged sandals and numerous accessories, along with one of her many purses and her staff complete the ensemble.
Sam pushes his glasses up as he strolls casually into the tavern, where he finds a corner, sits down, and gives MHF a run for his money on the whole mysteriously-creepy observer bit. He orders a cup of hot tea, and sips it quietly while reading a book and casually observing the scene.
Sammy meanwhile bursts into the tavern aglow with energy, muttering things to no one in particular such as "Wonder what their races are like?" and "At least hope there's some cute guys, ought to be.". She walks up to the bar, orders some fruity beverage, and sips it while sitting cross-legged on a stool observing the tavern with the look of a curious child. Her gaze seems to linger on the dryad, reminded of her people but forcing herself to remember that she's not in Kansas anymore.
Sequoia chuckles. "I think there might be some merit to that. Your friend might have a point that it might cause some more unwanted situations, though." She tactfully doesn't comment on the orc's last statement.
"But speaking of sharing a drink with a group of people, I don't think I know the name of anyone in this particular group. Mine's Sequoia."
Sammy seems incapable of resisting. She goes to walk over to the throng of strangers and extend her hand to the dryad
"Samantha. Samantha Sapeinti.But everyone just calls me Sammy. Not Sam mind you, that's my twin over there (points to Sam). Pleasure to meet you mademoiselle. Sorry if I come off as rude, but I couldn't resist."
After the introduction, she continues to sip her drink through a straw, looking expectantly at the others in the group, smiling cutely.
Sam sees this, and does a face-palm before he resumes his observing, paying this group more attention now.
Calvin just shrugs at the Orc's comment. And responds to Sequoia instead
"I'm Calvin, a pleasure.
And if you really want to start a brawl it's all in the eye contact, you avoid that you can avoid a brawl."
Or do the opposite and start one, he thinks to himself. A good brawl can be a great distraction in any number of situations. You don't even have to fight in them after awhile they just kept going on their own. Of course he isn't going to go and be talking about that sort of stuff with strangers.
And speaking of strangers here comes Samantha offering her hand to Sequia. This is turning into an odd night, he glances over to the corner to see how Sam reacts to her introduction. And he starts to get a bit nervous. He normally kept a much lower profile then this, and not just because he was shy.
"Anywhere would be safer than this tavern!" Isla answers, smiling. "I'd love to look around too."
Huh. She must have missed the part where it's a 'crypt', then. Which, considering, is probably a good thing.
Which only raises the question as to why she's going at all. Maybe it's to escape the violent tavern. Maybe it's because she senses an adventure she'd never be allowed on any other way. Or maybe it's that Benjamin is one of the only two humans she's met here, and he's both armed and friendly.
...Whatever the reason is, she sounds just as excited as he looks.
The Cowboy's TableNear the Entrance
The cowboy, Benjamin, prefers Isla to take the (Un)Holy Water, because he has no use for it. Dipping guns in holy water just doesn't work as well as dipping crossbows in it.
Benjamin has forgotten how many bullets he has left on his body. Probably in the upper sixties.
"So, where can we find this adventure?" asks Benjamin, still really pleased.
"The name's Ozder dar Iskandorr, the third. It's a pleasure to meet a beauty such as yourself, Sequoia." He takes her hand, to kiss. "And...Calvin? The name doesn't fit you, boy. You look more like a...George.
__________________ Dr, Bath's Dolly!
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The Far Chimera just sits there stubbornly, refusing to move. At least for now. By this time the Cruisader's voice should be coming back, though anything he says will probably be muffled due to the rather sizable volume of eldritch abomination sitting on top of him.
Awkward flailing probably isn't going to be amounting to all that much.
"I'm not moving until you calm down," K'rax announces to the armored holy-warrior. "And until you promise to stop harassing the customers. Then you can leave, where you'll be banished from this tavern! You and your children's children's children! For one week."
Geeze Zee.
That's pretty harsh.
At first he ignores Zee and just keeps swinging away, but after a while of blunting his sword with the same swings, he tires himself out, his arm is all tuckered out, and he isn't able to get much of a good breath thanks to the giant far-chimera on top of him. So he just gives into exhaustion and tries to draw a deep breath whilst vaguely nodding, I think, he could just be trying to headbutt the chimera and failing, you can never tell with a guy like this.
Sequoia is getting all kinds of attention today it seems. First, Samantha. "That's just fine. It's nice to meet you as well." She shakes the girl's hand firmly. "And of course you two as well." She favours the two men with a smile, especially Ozder when he kisses her hand.
Violence over, recovery can begin. The flumph woozily floats to the crusader, and gives him a soft poke to see if he's still alive. "Oh dear, are you alright, friend?" Well no, that's a silly question. He just went into a religious fury and was sat on by a completely normal Eldritch beastie. That is very far away from alright on the map of generic colloquialisms of personal status. It sails far past the ports of "Peachy," down the canals of "So-so," and into the ocean of "down in the dumps!" He would have to help his fellow as of yet unnamed comrade. "Eh, ma'am, would it be possible to get some tea and cucumber sandwiches."
Louis, meanwhile, is still deciding what he wants. He is leaning towards po boy sandwich.
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Chas enters the tavern from his VW van parked out front. From the looks of it, he probably slept in there. His long blonde hair is rather messy, and held up with a bandana headband, and his face is covered in an even layer of stubble, his eyes red and tired. He makes his way to the bar, and orders himself a coffee and begins to chain-smoke cigarettes - which he already reeks of. His clothes are wrinkled, adding to the dirtiness of his t-shirt and frayed vest with patches and slogans conveying peace and harmony, along with his beat up jeans and flip-flops.
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avvie by Sneak warning: I'm the harbinger of un-expected deadtime!
Meliaceae, or Meli as most have taken to nicknaming the mismatched Elf, is still following Tirin's lead through the wondrous tavern. Or dragging the poor Barghene along in investigating the strange things found around the strange room. From the sizzling, popping and hiccuping bottles behind the counter, to the stranger visitors and the often impossible architecture of Trog's common room.
As Louis ponders what to order, Meli turns to look in the costume-less hero's direction. Puzzled, Meli does not seem to recognise Young Star without the costume, but the Elf's mechanical eye seems to have.
A human male, and a rather handsome one too (though... this is news how? ) though he definitely looks like he's seen better days, with a cut on his lip and several bruises on his face and a slightly hollowed out look that says he probably hasn't eaten much for the past few days. He has dark skin and darker eyes, which seem curiously bright and alive, considering the state of the rest of him. His hair is dark too, and looks like it could be quite long, although how long exactly is unclear as it disappears down the back of his thick gray cloak, which covers the rest of his body.
He has a silver ring and a stud in his left ear, and is carrying a thin, straight sword with an ornate hilt and a rather ordinary leather sheathe.
He stands on the threshold, looking around wildly for a moment, eyes flicking back and forth across the clientčle, lingering for a moment on some of the more... interesting looking ones.
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Originally Posted by IronStylus (on boobplates)
I still consider myself a feminist despite having a biological attraction to certain parts of female anatomy and the desire to now and again see plate metal curvaceously wrapping around their sensual forms in a cradle of cold, sumptuous, steel.
Well, this human male's eyes could linger on an interesting character - a dapper, hulking orc! Specifically, Ozder dar Iskandorr. He's currently fiddling with his orange ascot, trying to center it on his shirt. Something of equal interest would probably be the large rifle on his back. Probably best not to threaten him, if the human male is the threatening type.
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Not particularly. He's on the run, don't you know, so picking fights isn't particularly high on his list of priorities. The man tries to look away, but his eyes are drawn, despite himself, to the rifle on the orc's back. Gunpowder tech is still new to his lands, and the orc's rifle no doubt looks far more advanced than the primitive matchlock muskets back home.
He makes his way to the bar, taking a rather circuitous route to avoid the the more inhuman patrons, watching them with a mixed expression of curiosity and distaste, and drawing his cloak protectively around himself as he draws near.
...
He's barefoot, by the way. Maybe should have mentioned that before, though it's not particularly important.
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Quote:
Originally Posted by IronStylus (on boobplates)
I still consider myself a feminist despite having a biological attraction to certain parts of female anatomy and the desire to now and again see plate metal curvaceously wrapping around their sensual forms in a cradle of cold, sumptuous, steel.
It is certainly a more advanced weapon - it's a pepperbox rifle, probably early-to-mid 19th Century in origin. Not that barefooted guy would know, of course.
The orc happens to glance up from his ascot for a moment -only to see a barefooted human doing a strange dance involving a cloak around the bar. Needless to say, he's perplexed.
__________________ Dr, Bath's Dolly!
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"Really a George? I don't know what to think about that."
Calvin sneaks his book of the table tucking it into a pocket in his coat on his chair. He doubts he is going to get back to reading tonight, not that he minds, he doesn't talk to many people beyond his uncle and his associates, this was a nice change of pace.
As the Tavern gets busier Calvin doesn't check out everyone as they come in. But anyone that comes to close or pays to much attention to his table will get a closer scrutiny. Like this fellow in the cloak. Unshod looks like he has been in a fight, and is staring at one of the most visible weapons in the room. Seems like the kind that could be dangerous so Calvin keeps an eye on him discreetly.
The MHF, whose avatar has been abused repeatedly now so I won't do it again, seems to... sort of glide over towards the human male. Doesn't make a sound though.
"Excuse me." It says quietly. Very politely even.
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The MHF, whose avatar has been abused repeatedly now so I won't do it again, seems to... sort of glide over towards the human male. Doesn't make a sound though.
"Excuse me." It says quietly. Very politely even.
In most cases, a character might look around frantically in order to locate the direction of the voice before thinking to look down, thus being surprised by the MHF in a comical fashion. Thankfully, Male Human has two functioning ears, and we get to dodge that whole rigmarole as he uses his stunning ability to tell what direction a sound is coming from to locate MHF pretty much immediately.
...
And now I need to think of a text color. I know! Let's steal Phoenix's! It's not like he's around to use it anymore. "Yes?" Says the Human Male rather guardedly. Short people is odd, but not alien, and so he gives the MHF the same look one might give any other mysterious stranger.
__________________
Quote:
Originally Posted by IronStylus (on boobplates)
I still consider myself a feminist despite having a biological attraction to certain parts of female anatomy and the desire to now and again see plate metal curvaceously wrapping around their sensual forms in a cradle of cold, sumptuous, steel.
"Who... who is your master?"
Male Human tightens his grip on his sword. This is kinda weird. He doesn't like it.
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Quote:
Originally Posted by IronStylus (on boobplates)
I still consider myself a feminist despite having a biological attraction to certain parts of female anatomy and the desire to now and again see plate metal curvaceously wrapping around their sensual forms in a cradle of cold, sumptuous, steel.
"Master is..."
Oh. Hmmm... Master never told MHF how to answer that question.
"Master."
There! MHF did well coming up with such a response all on its own.
"He is in a room upstairs."
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There is happiness for those who accept their fate.
There is glory for those who resist their fate.
Hmm... following a random short person into a room upstairs where no one can see you? Sounds totally safe! "Take me."
Um... that was meant to be sarcasm, Male Human.
__________________
Quote:
Originally Posted by IronStylus (on boobplates)
I still consider myself a feminist despite having a biological attraction to certain parts of female anatomy and the desire to now and again see plate metal curvaceously wrapping around their sensual forms in a cradle of cold, sumptuous, steel.
The jellyfish-like creature will find that it has already acquired tea and cucumber sammiches. How did this happen? Temporal shenanigans no doubt. One of the upsides to having a completely unnatural terrorhorror working in one's bar. They can often times get people's orders to them before the order is actually placed.
Hard to get service much faster than that.
Aside from that Zee is...
Well...
It looks like she's mixing up a batch of brownies.
And humming.
How very nefarious.
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Warning! Random Encounter™ detected!
Spoiler
Zee is a perfectly normal human female. You suspect nothing!
Winifred 'Freddie' Fredrick
Souls Nommed: 657
Days Since Last Nomming: 0
Meliaceae, or Meli as most have taken to nicknaming the mismatched Elf, is still following Tirin's lead through the wondrous tavern. Or dragging the poor Barghene along in investigating the strange things found around the strange room. From the sizzling, popping and hiccuping bottles behind the counter, to the stranger visitors and the often impossible architecture of Trog's common room.
As Louis ponders what to order, Meli turns to look in the costume-less hero's direction. Puzzled, Meli does not seem to recognise Young Star without the costume, but the Elf's mechanical eye seems to have.
Spotting Meli across the way, Louis waves to the chimeric elf. He even beckons her over. He has to share the good news after all. Or maybe he wants to see if she can recognize him? Super heroes act quite silly when it comes to their secret identity.
The flumph, meanwhile, eats a few sammiches in a way that sounds half like chewing and half like slurping. He then pours both himself and the crusader a cup, and continues to wait for his friend to rise.
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The cowboy, Benjamin, prefers Isla to take the (Un)Holy Water, because he has no use for it. Dipping guns in holy water just doesn't work as well as dipping crossbows in it.
Benjamin has forgotten how many bullets he has left on his body. Probably in the upper sixties.
"So, where can we find this adventure?" asks Benjamin, still really pleased.
Isla doesn't even carry a weapon!
And yet, she takes the vial of unholy water anyways, with a grateful smile and a quiet: "thank-you, Madame." Maybe she can... uh... splash the undead with it?
Well, she'll think of something less wasteful eventually.
Let's see... no weapons, no magic, no proper footwear...
She's all set! Hopefully the vial, the amulet, her luck, and the presence of Benjamin will be enough to see her through anything.
For now, she sits quietly and listens to the cowboy and the cleric speak.
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Last edited by orb_of_blood : 08-08-2012 at 01:04 PM.
A newcomer pokes her head into the tavern. She is a pretty, young looking woman with a shock of orange-red hair. She sniffs the air a little before stepping inside the tavern fully. She looks like a normal human for the most part, with a fairly slender, athletic build and wearing a pink tank top and sturdy shorts. The three fox tails poking out from behind her tell another story, however.
Kitty heads right for the bar and takes a seat. She contents herself with looking around curiously for the time being. Until she catches someone taking an interest in her tails. He receives a glare and Kitty pulls the tails in front of herself as much as possible.
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Dr, Bath's Dolly!
Re: [Nexus] Trog's Tavern CCXLIII
) though he definitely looks like he's seen better days, with a cut on his lip and several bruises on his face and a slightly hollowed out look that says he probably hasn't eaten much for the past few days. He has dark skin and darker eyes, which seem curiously bright and alive, considering the state of the rest of him. His hair is dark too, and looks like it could be quite long, although how long exactly is unclear as it disappears down the back of his thick gray cloak, which covers the rest of his body.
