Old July 21, 2018, 12:10 PM   #1 (permalink)
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[PA] Dropping by the gut

Timestamp: Summer, Ulyris Era XXV PF

The irregular door frame featured a makeshift hook over it that presumably had held a sign with the name of the tavern or an easily recognizable symbol for the illiterate. Beyond the threshold, several scattered tables hosted more or less noisy groups of people, being the noisiest one a dozen of drunken deckhands with a sudden interest in becoming tenors. No wonder they had earned bloodshot stares from the neighbouring tables.

It was when Belacrem crossed the threshold that he realized the kind of people this placed had managed to attract: most of them had scars or missing teeth; there was even a one-eyed bald man, wearing no patch to cover the hollow. The scum of The City of Queens.

Cursing the woman who had told him the best taverns were in The Gut, Belacrem looked around for a free spot and finally headed to a table in the corner, currently occupied by a lonely cat.

"Waitress?", he politely called a passing-by dark elfin in an apron.
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Old July 23, 2018, 06:47 PM   #2 (permalink)
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Moss wasn't supposed to be in The Gut. It was a part of the city that he would usually keep clear of. In fact, only one season earlier, he had gone to great lengths to ensure his friend Calanon didn't stray into the district.

And yet he was there regardless. Perhaps he could blame taking a wrong turn after leaving the docks, but whatever the actual reason, he was standing outside an unnamed tavern and he was thirsty. He wouldn't encounter too much trouble if he was a paying patron, surely?

Following a silent shrug of his broad shoulders in response to his own internal query, the human pushed the door open with a gloved hand and stepped inside, his large form blocking much of the sunslight that attempted to claw its way inside. With the door closed behind him, he sent a dark grey gaze around the space, his attention immediately caught by the rowdy group of budding singers. He approached the bar, then, brief glances along the way identifying all manner of unsavoury individuals.

This was a mistake...

The former militiaman knew he should leave, but to do so without ordering a drink would be rude, and there was no telling how the local clientele would respond to such an obvious snub.

And so he decided to lean against the bar, one hand cautiously close to the hilt of one of his longswords without - he hoped - appearing too obvious.

"A tankard of your finest," his gravelly voice asked of the barkeep, before sending another careful glance around the room as he waited for his drink.
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Old July 28, 2018, 09:24 AM   #3 (permalink)
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"Waitress?"

The dark elfin dashed beside Belacrem while single-handedly taking a couple of empty beer glasses from the neighbouring table - with a loud CLINK! - and stealing an empty dish from under an asleep drunkard's cheek on the next table.

Several seconds later, she was back with a couple of bowls, sliding among the tables.

"Excuse me?", Belacrem called. Ignoring him, the waitress delivered the bowls and dashed back to the bar with four empty bottles.

It was then that a broadshouldered man entered the tavern and walked towards the bar. He was wearing gloves... a misfit piece of clothing in such a tavern.

And then he leaned against the bar, asked for a tankard... and the waitress served a heavy tankard of golden ale, covered on an inch of foam. Immediately!

Removing the cat hairs from his light brown leather jacket, Belacrem stood up and approached the bar.

"And a beer for me!", he ordered the waitress as she was taking off with a dish covered on cheese slices and bread.

"You'll have to tell me what's the trick", he told Moss, slightly raising his eyebrows and twisting his mouth in what might be the hint of a smile. "I've been here for eras trying to get a drink..."
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Old August 2, 2018, 07:35 PM   #4 (permalink)
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Moss sent a polite smile of gratitude to the barmaid as she pushed forward a tankard of ale, the froth swishing against the top as she hurriedly went about her duties, pausing only to wait for her bearded customer to slide a coin across the bar.

His hand, having left the relative comfort of the hilt of his longsword, threatened to flinch when he heard another man yell, but the faintest hint of familiarity made his movements much more restrained as he turned towards the sound. Dark grey eyes settled on a familiar figure, and the bearded mystic looked down at the man, a gentle smile slowly spreading across his features.

"Belacrem," he nodded in greeting. "Serale."

The mystic couldn't help but wonder why his new companion was in a tavern in The Gut. The man's slender form was far less imposing than his own, and that would make him an easier target in the eyes of would be pickpockets and thugs. Perhaps Belacrem would be safer if the pair stuck together...

Moss pulled at each gloved finger, before he was able to ease the articles off his hands and stash them away safely on his person, before a bare palm wrapped itself around the handle of the tankard and lifted the drink to his mouth. A slow swig followed, and blond follicles were covered in foam only until the back of his opposite sleeve wiped them away. His gaze was still warm by the time the request for advice reached his ears.

"It's all in the voice," he intoned, letting out a deep but gentle chuckle that rumbled from within. "You are well?"
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Old August 10, 2018, 05:17 PM   #5 (permalink)
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The voice. Of course, it was not only a matter of calling her louder so that she could hear him all over the noise - and that horrible song! -, but also of competing for the attention of an extremely busy waitress flying to and fro.

"Waitress: a beer", Belacrem ordered with a graver voice, similar to how Moss had asked for a tankard before.

"Coming!", she gasped, dashing towards another table with a couple of salad bowls.

"I do my best", Belacrem replied when Moss asked him about how he was faring. "How about you?", he asked him with a friendly smile.
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Old September 10, 2018, 07:31 PM   #6 (permalink)
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Moss chuckled gently as Belacrem adopted a deeper tone when he chased the rushing barmaid for a drink.

"I am well," he nodded quietly, before casting a cursory glance towards the rest of the room, "though I doubt either of us truly belongs in such a place as this."

The comment didn't appear to make him drink any faster, however. A good ale was worth savouring, and Gut or no Gut, the barmaid had poured a fine quality drink.

"It seems to me," the human continued between slow sips, foam caressing the tip of his upper lip, "that whenever we meet, you are decidedly thirsty."

The polite jest was accompanied by an equally friendly grin, as he recalled the pair's introduction.

"So," he added, dropping his voice as he placed a half full tankard onto the wooden bar top, "what is it that has brought you to The Gut after dark?"
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