First drink, last bridge (Open)

Wilhelm Rochester · July 18, 2008, 12:42 PM

Timestamp: Melora, in the Season of Winter, Era I of the Celestine Mandate, Era XV Post Fractum.

Wilhelm walked into the establishment with his bright sapphire eyes scanning the barstools and tables. He moved beneath the doorway as he came in to the well maintained establishment. His hands dusted off his slightly dirty, white tunic. Old boots stomped over malt and ale as he found his way to the bar. His hands moved over one of the bar stools. Smooth clean hands, unstained by years of labor or a hard day’s work.

The bar was fairly occupied but he did not gravitate towards the crowds. Laughter, smoke, and the faint smell of ale clung to the air. Windows smeared by the frost that clung to the air in the late hour. Chilled breezes gusted through the door as it cracked open for each new occupant.

He tapped the table a couple times as he waited for the bartender to make there way over to him.

To say Wilhelm was any kind of drinker would have been a lie. He was naïve to most aspects of life. His throat had never even tasted ale. A foolish superstition brought on by the actions of his father. A family of drunkards, in steps he did not wish to soon follow. Tonight though the last of the bridges had been burned. Family, friends, love, had all been cast aside by him. Even as he tried to tell himself that he was not attached, that there was no home he needed, he found his doubts lingering.

I wonder if it could have worked.

He had often dreamed of the life of a normal man. Maybe he could have had a daily wage, a nice house, perhaps a good woman by his side. The house though was not his, to long had he lived on his parents prosperity. The wage was not to be, for he could not hold a job for longer then a season. Then there was the woman. He found his mind whispering her name.

Emily

She was not his. He had never made the effort. There was never time, that was what he always told himself. Even now as he forsaked his old life on nothing more then a wild whim, he found himself with more questions then answers. Still it was time to move on, the old life was gone. The last bridge burned by the choice to come to this tavern.
As he heard steps approach he pondered what to order. Perhaps something light to start, then again maybe he should just order strong and get it over with.

Bethel Beanhopper · July 24, 2008, 12:05 AM

She pushed open the door and stepped inside quickly so as not to let the cold air in and the warm air out. She was well rugged up against the weather, her black bonnet pulled tight against her head to keep the cold from her ears.

The bright green eyes scanned the crowds; not that she knew anyone mind but more looking for a place to make herself comfortable and sup on some fine dwarven ale.

She espyed a man sat at the bar or rather she caught sight of his red hair.

Now there was a man she could relate to she thought as she stroked her fine red beard. Moving with amazing speed she made her way to the bar and with a quick dust off with her hand (not to mention inspection of the same to see if there really was any dust) she climbed up and made herself comfortable.

"Can I be after gettin some service over 'ere... tis a sad day when a dwarf can enter a tavern and not be findin a good ale slapped down in front o'em before they even be seated." she called out to the bar tender as she tossed a few crown on the bar as she waited for service.

The bartender turned to look at the newcomers rolling his eyes a little as he caught sight of Bethel... all he needed tonight was an dwarf bent on causing trouble.

Pulling a tankard of dwarven ale he slapped it down in front of Bethel, picking up a few of the coins she had tossed down as he did so.

"Will that be all?" he enquired looking her in the eye.

Bethel turned to Wilhelm Ye best be speakin up laddie or ye won't be gettin much to drink tonight!" she said without so much as a hint of smile.

Wilhelm Rochester · July 24, 2008, 02:38 AM

The tall mug of frothy ale sloshed about in front of the small enthusiastic dwarf. It looked so thick that one wondered if you had to eat it with a spoon. Wilhelm seemed to have company, and company of a jovial sort at that. As frost crept in from each chilling door way opening, frosted windows peered at the two strangers. Candles flickered with the faint light that clung to the room thick with laughter and smoke.

Wilhelm shrugging his shoulders in a mixture of defeat and complacency chimed in to the bartender,

"I'll have one of those Mister."

Wilhelm's unworn hands laid the same amount of coins on the table as the dwarf had. He judged that the dwarf was a good judge of the value of ale.

His sapphire eyes looked like a lost sea as he peered curiously at the concoction placed before him. One hand steadily wrapped itself about the handle of the thick worn mug. He turned to the dwarf raising his glass politely,

"Bottoms up."

Almost half closing his eyes, and his nose he took a hefty swig of the liquid…

His hand slammed down the tankard on to the hard wooden table with a loud clap. He began to cough quite heavily, his eyes almost watering. Wilhelm held the table to steady him as he coughed some more, he seemed unable to rid himself of the strong stout. His eyes slowly lulled back from an unnatural green into there familiar blue color.

Wilhelm had never drank before, and he had certainly never drank with a dwarf before. Dwarves were known not only for there love of ale, but love of strong ale. It had hit him like a tidal wave. Very few people drank such liquid for the taste but rather for the sensation, and he had certainly had his first dose of that.

As he gathered himself back into his small stool, red hair above his bright blue eyes as he looked to the dwarf.

His voice a little weak, combined with a warm smile,

"It's a little strong."

Wilhelm supposed that vices all had there own oddities. He wasn't sure drinking was for him, but company did seem to ease his mind from the troubles of the day at least.

Bethel Beanhopper · July 24, 2008, 05:31 AM

Bethel was taking her second drink from the mug of ale as Wilhelm took his first. As luck would have it she had just set it back down and was wiping away the foam on her top lip with the back of her hand as the human began to cough and splutter.

Have ye not had the good ale before laddie?" she asked as he did his best to regain his breath.

Ye don't want t'be drinkin any o'that dish water those namby pamby pointy ears drink. This 'ere is guaranteed to be puttin hairs on yer chest! she said laughing as she took another drink of her ale.

It was a shame that someone had not taken the poor lad into training when it came to the fine qualities of tavern drinking. Perhaps if this had been another time and place she would have considered pointing out the finer aspects of how to consume a good dwarven ale.

If her brother or even the fine upstanding Mr. Dzrg had been here she was sure that they would have taken him in had and taught him a thing or two about the finer things in life. Mind you any thoughts of Mr. Dzrg and his canabalistic tendices made her think on that one a bit longer.

Wilhelm Rochester · July 27, 2008, 03:42 AM

As a few more patrons stumbled in through a veil of smoke and frost, the sound of a fiddler could be heard as it rose just above the grumbles and mumbles. A local bard chimed his pleasant trade, as it drifted off old glasses and dingy shelves. The tune was pleasant and even the Bartender found himself tapping his foot steadily to the rhythm.

The breeze that night was particularly cold. It left an almost glue like frost that clung to the windows. A roar erupted from the fireplace as a few more logs were tossed on it. Slowly the fire cackled with swats of ember as it took the wood into its blazing maw. Broken mugs and dishes were only muffled out by the loud thumping of patrons who had too much ale, or just not enough sleep.

Wilhelm rubbed his throat slowly as he recovered from his bout with the beasts of ale. The redness in his shimmering blue eyes had faded; his posture was back to its usual nonchalant stature. Both hands held the mug curiously as he took small sips, from that point on. In much smaller doses, he seemed to be able to at least swallow the liquid.

Though his stomach did grumble at the thought of food, he had not eaten all day much of anything. He tried calling to the bartender as he passed, once, twice, it did him no good. Finally with a mixture of fury and hunger the palm of his fast loudly pounded the table.

Glasses shook as the bartender turned a glaring eye to the young man,

Wilhelm had a mixture of dread and fear but chimed in anyway,

"Bread and cheese please, on a large plate."

Coins jingled as he fished some out of his tunic and sat them down for the bartender who all too eagerly gobbled them up in his meaty hands. As the plate came and Wilhelm began to enjoy his cheese and bread it was a very large plate and he gestured to his dwarven companion,

"Have some please miss, so you're not from Prime then?"

Wilhelm had never known any dwarves personally. He'd met one or two; they seemed polite at the very least. At least they were fun to drink with it seemed. As Wilhelm brushed a loose strand of bright red hair back he munched down on a slice of bread awaiting a reply.

Bethel Beanhopper · July 27, 2008, 11:34 PM

Bethel had been savouring the taste of the ale as it slid over her tongue and on it's way to that dark and mysterious world that was one's innards. She had never given much thought to what went on inside one's belly so long as it tasted good as it went down.

Bethel had eyed the bread and cheese on Wilhelms plate and was about to ask for some for herself when the lad offered her some of his....

"Aye don't mind if I do." she said taking a small portion of cheese and bread and biting into it.

"I'm from Zerdargia! Home of all dwarves or should be!" she replied as she took another drink of ale.

"What about yersel ye don't seem to be to familiar wi the goin's on yersel..." she asked as she fished in her pockets for a few more crowns to buy them both another ale. Twas only fair since he had provided the supper.

Wilhelm Rochester · July 28, 2008, 08:24 AM

As the night grew later and the sky darker a moon beamed from behind it's hidden cloud cover. A lone ray of light that shined down through a series of windows sills. It peaked into alley ways and caused a few cat's, who slumbered lazily on a barrel, to scatter about. Bright gray's and oranges dashing with the dirtry cobblestone streets of the late hour.

Wilhelm munched on another piece of cheese as he pondered. He blew up some of his bright red hair as he thought. His hands carefully held his new mug of ale with a nod to his new dwarven friend in thanks. The plate of cheese was large enough that Wilhelm didn't have to worry about it running out any time soon as he ate a small bit of bread.

A small smile slowly crept along his lips,

"I've only recently lived here, I suppose I dwelt in Arconis mostly."

Physically of course he had dwelt in Prime for years. Trapped by chores and obligations. Rigidly kept his room focused on studies or his parents pursuits of politics and class societal struggles, it bored him to no end. He had only seen his grandfather in Arconis once a year before his passing. The old man had practically hated his Grandson, but Wilhelm loved the old man.

He had a way of telling you where you stood in the world, and the way in which the world stood. When Wilhelm looked into the old man's eyes and heard truth, he knew it was honesty. He longed for that, perhaps someday he would return there. For now he had new friends and a new life awaiting him.

Cray Dolcimay · July 28, 2008, 06:12 PM

(ooc: mind if I jump in?)
Cray sat in a wooden chair in the corner of the inn, engrossed by a hand of cards. He was so drunk that he was having trouble reading them however, as was the state of the other players around the table. The drinking game had entered its final trick, and Cray was having trouble calling his hand. As the cards swam in and out of focus, his bleary eyes centred around one in particular, and a grin spread across his face.

"Sorry boys," he said, and slapped down his pick.

Loud groans of dismay echoed from the corner, and all the men but him quaffed the rest of their mugs. With his winning grin, Cray tried to get up from his chair. It took him a few tries, but he finally managed to, and seized with a sudden desire for one of the pickled pig's feet at the bar, he stumbled slowly over. The world swam, but really Cray didn't feel all that drunk. He felt a bit clumsy was all, and in exchange the soreness of travel had left him. In the background a bard played, and Cray hummed along as he made his way over. Three times he bumped into a patron, and once into a serving wench who spilled some grog on him, but at long length he reached a stool next to a bearded dwarf whose gender he was having trouble discerning.

The kertsheema had an appropriate warmth to it, and in his inebriation Cray truly appreciated the friendly chatter, the bard's upbeat song. Gads the bard could play. The gaje were starting to catch on, and a small dancing circle had formed by the bard where young women were starting to tug dance-shy men in. It reminded Cray of nights in the Kumpania circle, and for that he was immediately endeared to the Crown. Further back where he was, the patrons were more engrossed in their own company, and having completely forgotten the pickled pigs feet, he bumped the dwarf on the shoulder.

"Story fer your cheese?" he said.

Wilhelm Rochester · August 4, 2008, 01:44 AM

As the small dance circle it formed it seemed to light up the small tavern. The guttural grunts and talk of the late evening was quickly replaced by hearty laughs and warm smiles. Even the bartender was forced to tap his foot slowly to the rather catchy pace. Fire casting warm shadows that danced and swung along the long wooden walls of the establishment. A faint smile of moonlight glimmered just through the frost of the window. The faint chill of the night chased away by the warmth of the festive
spirit with in.

As the bard wandered over it seemed the dwarf was to lost in her thoughts to offer a reply. At least a verbal reply in any form. Perhaps then again Wilhelm was just more aware of his surroundings at that particular moment. Wilhelm brushed some dust off of his white tunic and nodded,

"By all means, plenty to share."

The plate was still quite full, and Wilhelm set a few more coins on the table for another plate. Just to be on the safe side. Each plate was full of warm soft crusted bread and tasty good smelling cheese.

Not a true delicacy, but something that was a fine way to chase away the taste of the ale. Wilhelm's hands were still a bit nervous as he slowly took in his ale, still trying to grow accustomed to the strength of
a dwarven brew.

Wilhelm's sapphire eyes cast themselves over the man, perhaps a mixture of curousity and judgement. Of course compared to the dwarf and the bard Wilhelm seemed the least likely of any to be in a tavern.

Graced with the mannerisms and upbringing of those who never set foot in a tavern. Still he offered a hand politely for a shake,

"I'm Wilhelm."

He hadn't been to a tavern before and so the concept of hearing tales while drinking was rather new to Wilhelm. Still, it did sound like a good way to spend the evening as any. Anything to chase away the thoughts
of the family he had left behind.

Cray Dolcimay · August 4, 2008, 06:26 PM

Cray grinned, and gave the redheaded fella a gracious nod. What a gent, paying for more food like that.

"Mighty kind of ya sir."

He reached for a slice of cheese, Jaedaxian sharp by the look of it (not that he knew all too much about cheeses), and pressed it to a piece of bread. Taking a savoury bite, Cray searched his mind for a suitable story. He had heard a lot of them around the fire in his day, and lived a couple more himself. Stories were funny things. They all had their place. He had half a mind to tell of the sweet lass Jess, but even thinking of her made him sad, and this wasn't a place for such a miserable tale, beautiful and true as it may be. Then , the bard struck a chord, and Cray recalled the perfect story. It was so obvious, why didn't he think of it before. A tale of taverns and scoundrels, in a tavern filled with scoundrels.

Cray swallowed and began, intermittently pausing to take another bite, or select a different cheese.

"Right. So the name's Cray Dolcimay, and yeah I know it rhymes. Anyways, you might 'ave already guessed that I'm pikey (that's 'gypsy' in the west), and true as the blood in my veins, such was I born and bred. Been off on my own for a spell though, had some narky business with another lot of gypsies and after that figured I'd stretch me legs alone for awhile.

"Just so you know who I am, y'know.

"Anyways, awhile back in Taralon, right after I left the kumpania, I was in a tavern like this one when the most rinkeni little maiden in the place decides to share a drink with me. one thing leads to another, next thing you know I'm jumping out the window of an inn, nongo (that's naked) as a jay, with the captain of the town guard swearing to string me up 'cause that pretty little thing was his daughter."

Cray paused for a moment to chew and swallow, gazing off and trying to remember.

"So, of course, ev'ry guard knows in two seconds flat that there's a gypsy running 'round what slept with the captain's daughter. I don't imagine he mentioned that part, but it got out just the same. So I've left all my clothes back at the inn, right, and if I want to keep my head atop my shoulders I might have a mind to get out of town..."

Cray seemed to get distracted, eyeing the beer as he ate. The cheese was good and the bread fresh, but it was feeling a bit rich on his palate. He slid a coin onto the counter.

"Oy 'tender, mind if I get some grog? None of that dwarven ale mind you, just what we been having at the card table back there."

He considered Willhem for a second.

"Honestly mate, how do you drink that stuff? I I had a had it would be off to ya."

Wilhelm Rochester · August 9, 2008, 03:59 AM

A night chill caught on the air as the fire lulled into quiet cackles. Biting winds from a half opened door that sank into one to chill the bone. As the darkness grew heavier and the moon brighter the cold grew stronger. Faint murmurs could be hard amongst the various patrons, dancing, singing, or drinking all seemed in a good mood. None held the normal depressions of winter as they all gathered amongst the bright glow
of candlelight.

Wilhelm's eyes had gone half wide with shock at the tale. The young man had obviously never heard many bard tales, and certainly never heard any tales as risque as that one. As the tale came to a close and the shipwright brushed some of his long bright red hair he pondered a few moments as he glanced about. Hand half rested on his mug, but before he said anything the question of grog came up.

As Wilhelm looked at his cup, he seemed to be happy to change the subject,

"Well the lady here introduced me to it, bit strong but chases back the cold well enough."

Of course Wilhelm didn't order anything else cause he didn't know how to order anything else. He had never drank before, so he had no idea what any drinks were called, the bartender was to busy to ask, so Wilhelm just ordered what other people ordered. It seemed the simplest way to do it.
As he sat amongst the two strangers quickly becoming friends he was glad he had come here after all. Food, ale, and fine company was just the thing to chase memories of his past from his mind.

Cray Dolcimay · August 14, 2008, 04:18 PM

Cray raised an eyebrow. Aye, it certainly would chase away the cold wouldn't it? Would also chase away one's senses quick enough. That stuff was strong enough to be considered spirits. Cray was sticking to his own ale, a nice amber that wasn't particularly stellar but wasn't particularly spendy either. He sipped it, pensively, soaking in the warm atmosphere. A chilly draft gave him goosebumps for a moment as a patron stepped out for some air, but the music was playing and the air was lively. A serving wench, comely little lass with wavy brown hair and angel freckles, caught his eye. He shot her a smile and a wink, but she blushed and turned away.

This Will fellow seemed downright shocked by Cray's tale. He was trying to coneal it, but it was written all over his face. It made Cray smile inwardly. Gajo must come from someplace sheltered. The temptation to con him flitted across Cray's mind, but he quickly dismissed it. There were enough angry, bitter people in the world. Cray wanted more innocent eyes, more smiles and hopes. He could save his cons for the folks who have already given up on the world.

"Right. So like I was saying, I gotta jass this town, or I'm not gonna see many more sunrises. Problem is the gates close at night, and I ain't wearin' a thread on top o' that. So I get out the window right, and take off at a dead run. Gajo Captain's still screamin' at me too, all this business about how we Air'riela ain't never gonna set foot in Taralon again, how he's gonna string me up and burn me body. Thing is, I got all of three streets before I run smack into this guard patrol round this blind corner. And, well, they ain't heard 'bout all that business with the captain's daughter yet, but they got some law against runnin' naked through the streets. So they take me in to the guardhouse, manacle me and the like, and since I don't have no papers they just throw me in the holding cell wrapped in a bedsheet.

"Now, I know what they say 'bout what goes on in prison, and yeah, I'm naked an' all, but turns out you walk near-nongo into a holdin' cell, and you wind up just scarin' everyone there. But as I'm lookin' around, in this crowd of drunks and lowlifes and beggars and the like, I hear some mush laughing in the corner. Turns out it's this old pikie named Gren. Now let me tell you something 'bout Gren, cause I known him since we was just old enough to race down to the creek. Best damn chor you ever seen. Could pick a lock just lookin' at it. Turns out he was just hanging out in the cell 'cause it meant three hots an' a cot. He'd run into some hard times, y'see. Anyhoo we figured it be devel kris that we meet up like that, and after we have a good laugh or two over my tale, he hatches a plan. That boy always got a plan, y'see. I'm much more of a make it up as you go sorta feller. Anyways, he agrees that I can't much stick around, but the guards set to watch the prisoners always wind up sitting there with this big cask of wine to pass the time. So some boys lent me their clothes, and then Gren starts makin' like he'll be sick. Guards, drunken yo-ha gaje don't give a damn. So Gren, bloody dilo starts speaking in tongues. That gets their attention. He's good too. All about hellfire and demons and bloody circles and whatnot. Thrashin' all over the place and whatnot. So while the two guards are scared to this side of the sea, I get slipped out, and they hide me in an empty bloody wine cask. Friggin' genius. The guards even wind up bringing in a tonpad to exorcise Gren, who promptly drops the act and says summat like 'thanks doc'. I could hear all of it, though that cask got hot as hades after a few hours."

Cray paused for a moment and took another drink of ale.

"Anyways, guards never even notice I'm missing till the captain comes storming in, looking for the naked boy he heard got picked up. Man, you shoulda heard them tear that palce apart. Never thought to check the wine cask though, and soon enough they just decided he escaped. Guards got fired on the spot. Captain was swearin' up a storm, throwing in words I had never even heard. He left after awhile though. Anyways, I got hauled off with the garbage the next morning, I remember getting lifted, then a cart, and then, you know what? They dumped me over the bloody parapets! I remember falling all the sudden, and screamin' bloody murder. Luckily I landed in the sea, and the cask fell apart when it hit the water. Wound up swimming to shore and hooking up with the kumpania in time to leave with 'em. Still owe gren a beer."

Wilhelm Rochester · September 6, 2008, 03:37 AM

At the end of the tale if Wilhelm had been peevish before he was now downright pale. Either he had never heard of such things, or he certainly didn't think they actually happened, other then in story books. For most young men talks of prisons, captain's daughters, and running around naked were quite common, espically amongst sea folk, but for all Wilhelm's trials to be a sea patron, he was still a city boy at heart.

He nodded as he took another heavy drink of his own ale, thick and dwarven with enough foam to be capable of eating it rather then drinking. It had a very earthy strong taste to it, and had little purpose other then stoutness of drink. His sapphire eyes bobbed up and down as he nodded,

"That's quite a ordeal."

He paused after another sip of his beer as he his hand danced across the table,

"So what brings you to prime then?"

Some men probably would have turned the bard in, or alert authorites, as there was probably some form of reward. Wilhelm though was not for the law, that wasn't to saw he wasn't law abiding, because he was in every respect of the word. He just didn't favor the establishment that was currently ruling, as far as he was concerned Aelyria would be better off without them. Still it was good to make a friend, even if it was a criminal, better then no friends at all.