The Outhouse

Tatercake · October 1, 2003, 04:32 AM

The Mariner's Box was famed for serving particularly strong ale with an edge to it, and if one was not careful that edge would go straight to one's stomach. Thus, situated about fifty feet from the pub was a low, squat building with a flat roof that jutted out over the sides as though it didn't fit properly. It was surrounded by long grasses and weeds, though a path of sorts had been hacked to the thin wooden door.

The smell emanating from inside was far from pleasing, though when needs must there wasn't a lot of choice for many people. The floor inside was a jumble of irregular stone tiles absorbing all sunlight that streaked in through a tiny window set into the far wall near the roof. The toilet itself was separated by a small barrier resembling some form of decency, but decency was far cry from civility. Ettiquete was a strange and meaningless term to the ruffians and sailors who frequented The Outhouse after a particularly long night drinking heavily and eating suspicious meals that sometimes crawled off the plates. Thus, it was not the most pleasant of places to visit, even when you needed to.

The one feature that set this particular facility apart from its equally-unclean brethren was the towel-man at the entrance. No-one knew how or when he had arrived at The Outhouse, or why he stayed to serve the 'patrons', though many knew him as Jenkins and often stopped to thoughtfully deposit a gold crown in the cup at his feet after they'd finished. He wore a suit that no-one knew where he aquired, and was always dressed and presented impeccably. He would hand towels to patrons after they had washed their hands in the small well outside, always freshly-laundered and clean. It was said that he knew more about life than anyone in the city, and people often stopped by just for a chat, albeit from a distance of a few feet as the smell was all-pervaiding. Jenkins never noticed it.

Celethor Tyran · January 27, 2005, 07:28 PM

Timestamp: Solaria, Brightening 11 of the Second Cycle of Ponutis
Spring of Era II of the Celestine Mandate
Era XI Post Fractum in the Age of the Darkening, the Mageocracy of Julos the Mad

Celethor ran to the outhouse after a drink at the Mariner's Box. That's it. That's the last time he fell for a drinking contest at the Mariner's. He always knew O'Mally at the Flounder's had much better ale. Never again would he have to resort to this. Ahh... The bubbling in his bladder was building up; the dracon was fearing he wouldn't make it. He dashed straight into the outhouse as quick as he could, and shut the door. Celethor tried to pull down his pants... Accursed Tail! His hands abruptly shot to the buttons on the backside of his pants, and he struggled to quickly undo them.

Phew... Just in time. Celethor was affraid for a second that he would be embarressed upon walking out of the outhouse, but that wasn't too much of a big deal. After all, everyone in this down was as dirty if not dirtier than that. Once one got to thinking about it, it seemed pretty disgusting. And once Celethor started thinking about it, he couldn't stop. His spawn of Jorel mind just wouldn't stop thinking it! In the end he had to switch positions and stick his face down the hole of the toilet. The nausiating fumes seemed to grab at his nostrils, pulling him into unconsciousness. At last he could take it no longer, he quickly pulled up his pants, buttoned them, and flung the door open.

The dracon ran as quick as his legs would carry him to the well. He grabbed the bucket full of water and thanked Diana for the blessing of such moisture. Celethor scrubbed and scrubbed his hands again and again, then swished the water in his mouth to wash away the filth. A couple splashes against his face and he gave a deep sigh. Relief...

Celethor strode up to old man Jenkins and gratefully took the offered towel and dried his face and hands. He tossed a crown into the cup at the proper man's feet and hesitated a second before deciding to speak to the man. "Thanks Jenkins. Don't know what I'd do without you. Hey, you hear of any rumours going about lately? Anything happening outside the city?"

Steve Lionhart Gil'dae · January 28, 2005, 04:32 PM

Ahhh... my head... not so good, I feel kinda funny. What they put in that stuff? The distorted thoughts echoed in his head. The Mariners Box wasn't usually his choice of tavern, in fact, he couldn't remember why he was here. He couldn't remember a few things. He knew he'd ended up here with Celethor, and they'd been challenged to a drinking game. Of course, he couldn't of said no. So he started to guzzle the rubbish they called alcohol. If it was slightly unpleasant, it certainly was potent. He didn't know how much he'd drank. Too much, he knew that. But he had won, so that was good. And now he was feeling a little sick, confused, and well, drunk. He also needed to urinate, and fast. He thought he'd seen Celethor dashing away a moment ago, and maybe it really wasn't such a bad idea...

As soon as Celethor came out, he dashed in, running in a kind of not completely co-ordinated drunken way. And then whilst in there, he quickly did what he needed to. He didn't want to stay in there any longer, it completely stank. Of very unpleasant things, too. So soon afterwards he was back out again. He washed his hands, he still knew how to be civil. He then walked up to Jenkins, where Celethor was, and accepted a towel, drying his hands and thanking the man. And chucking a coin into his cup (actually, it was 3 coins, but he wasn't in a state of mind to care). Steve turned to Celethor, and said "Hey." in greeting. He would have said more, but he suddenly felt quite ill, and had to stop himself from throwing up. What did they put in that stuff? He was never coming here again...

Celethor Tyran · January 28, 2005, 05:15 PM

Jenkins prudently nodded to both Celethor and Steve as they took their towels. He didn't seem to mind the smell at all. Celethor was starting to get nausious again, and stood a good 5 or 6 feet away from the old man just to relieve himself. Jenkins wasn't a bit surprised at Celethor's question, and promptly answered in a deep bass voice. "Eras ago there were two evil twin mages, who hid in the Castellum of Narim. They drove out the military, and cast a spell on the castle, that it would be invisible to anyone who didn't come within 100 yards of it.

"A group of heros eventually killed the two twins and their daemon master, but the Castellum was lost once they travelled away from it. Few ever saw it again. Since those days, it has become a haven for evil spirits, a sactuary of the dead. It is now a damned place, set aside for those who wish to spend their lives in eternal pain." Well that was very nice. Jenkins and his crackpot stories, eh? Or perhaps they weren't as much fables as people thought them to be. Celethor didn't think so. He could tell from the look in Jenkin's eyes that he knew it to be true.

"So, Jenkins, what's this Narim Castellum like? I mean, besides the ghosts and stuff. Is it very big?" Celethor was starting to formulate an idea in his head. An idea that would possibly become a great adventure. Break the silence that had surrounded Narim lately.

"Big? Well, yes. It used to hold the armies of Narim, after all. Was used as an outpost. It's actually a quite grand estate. It wouldn't be half bad without the monsters and evil spirits." Not half bad, eh? Well, we'll see for ourselves how bad it is. Celethor had never really believed in ghosts anyways. His only contact with an evil spirit was a Yid, and he got away alive from that, didn't he? How could he pass this up? The dracon eyed Steve and gave him a knowing look. "Hmm... You wouldn't by chance know where this Castellum is, would you Jenkins?"

"Well, sure I do. Got a map to it right here. My granddad used to be in the army, and he kept a map of the place. No idea why, but it sort of became a family heirloom." Jenkins reached into his coatpocket and pulled out a haggard-looking map. It was a simple-looking map of the Sherian, with all the major cities, the Khardran mountains, the Great Sea. Everything. But there were black dotted lines and a pink "X" a couple miles east of Narim. That must be where it is... thought Celethor. He wondered what Steve was thinking.

Steve Lionhart Gil'dae · January 28, 2005, 05:42 PM

Jenkins began to tell them a story. A quite irrelevant and random story, in truth. Actually, he wondered why the man had brought it up at all. But actually, even to a intoxicated mind, it all seemed quite interesting. A military fortress, invisible, filled with evil things. It sounded like a silly story, but there were plenty of strange things in Alleria, and he couldn't dismiss the story. In fact, it interested him. His intoxicated mind conjured up images of a grand keep, all empty, with gold piled up in the corners. With him and Celethor standing in the doorway, hoards of zombies dead before them. Dead as in slain. They were already dead. It was quite confusing to think about. It sounded like quite a adventure, going to find a invisible military fort, killing a bunch of dead people and living there in secret without paying a penny for it.

At least, it was a good concept. He didn't really think about the threat a hoard or two of ravenous zombies and malicious spirits could present. Having a military base was very interesting, and he knew Celethor was thinking the same thing, since Celethor then asked about it. Which indicated that he had to be interested. What happened next was very convenient. The man reached for a map, and pulled it out. He just happened to own it, and just happened to have it with him. Strange, really. It was a map of Sherian, basically, but what drew his eye was the 'X' on the parchment. A pink X. He pondered this for a moment. A pink X didn't seem very appropriate. The military supplied maps with pink X's on? He giggled for a moment, before coughing dramatically and silencing himself. "Celethor, I'm thinking this could be a nice adventure. Jenkins, would you mind if we... borrowed, the map?" He asked, wanting to know if Jenkins would be willing to give his family heirloom over to a drunken pair of young men.

Celethor Tyran · January 28, 2005, 05:57 PM

Jenkins took a good look at Steve and brought a hand up to his chin. "Hmm... Let you borrow it. I don't think I really want to hand over my family heirloom just like that. You two seem like nice boys..." The old man looked over the two. Who was he kidding? These whippersnappers were ferschnikkered all the way to Trelore. No way was he giving his treasure map to them. "But I just don't want this map to fall into the wrong hands. Maybe you two should just..."

Celethor had had quite enough of this. All the time Jenkins was giving his reply, he had been shaking his head partly in dismay, partly because of the massive headache from that damnable ale. He had decided to resort to drastic measures. He wasn't thinking straight. He just had to have that map. It was his now. His and Steve's. If the old man didn't want to give it up willingly, they would relieve it of him. So Celethor reached out towards the map Jenkins was holding up and snatched it right out of his hands. "Thanks alot, Jenkins, old buddy. We'll be sure to get it back to you after we're through with it. Have a good afternoon." And with that, Celethor pushed the old man over, rather harshly, and motioned for Steve to follow him. He ran and ran, leaving the old man behind in the dust.

Eventually he got to the junction to go towards the Military District. He then stopped and turned to Steve. "Well now, let's go find that hidden castle then, shall we. I'll go get some of my extra gear and we'll head off. What do you think?" Celethor was drunk as could be. Curse that foul man and his drinking contest. Never again would he accept a stupid offer such as that. It most definately wasn't worth the headache.

Steve Lionhart Gil'dae · January 28, 2005, 06:09 PM

He could tell that the old man wasn't going to give them that map. He sighed, it was a shame. But what could you do, really? Stealing it came into his mind, but he wasn't really going to do that. Not to a old man anyway. Or maybe he should have just stolen it? Either way, he was quite impatient with this old man, and being drunk, he didn't hide his annoyance at all. He looked annoyed to a point of rudeness. Celethor decided to be bold in a way that Steve could not. Celethor stole the map, in fact, and pushed the old man over, quite strongly, actually.

Running time... And Steve did just that. When Celethor ran, he ran, quite happy to leave the old man lying on the floor. Sure, the guy was nice and didn't deserve it, but he didn't care too much. And when Celethor stopped, Steve stopped. Steve nodded at the question, but then decided to say something to Celethor. "I don't think ya needed to shove him like that... I suppose... it was pretty funny." He was trying very hard to keep a straight face, but despite the harsh circumstances and the fact that his best friend had just robbed and pushed over a old man, he couldn't.

Instead he cracked up into insane laughter, giving Celethor a pat on the back. He would have never done that, and had he not been drunk, probably wouldn't have found it so funny. But he was drunk, and could imagine Jenkins shouting "Damn youths!" and attempting to chase them. It just showed another side of him, and he couldn't always be the good guy. "Lets head off, then." He said, nodding certainly.

Celethor Tyran · February 1, 2005, 04:58 PM

Celethor busted into a truly drunk laughter with Steve. Oh man, it feels like I've totally lost it, said his normal mind. Yeehah! Let's go off and get ourselves them there castle, said his less-than-normal mind. But, being stoned to the max, his normal mind was completely silenced, and he could only do the bidding of the other. Therefore, Celethor jollily made his way up to the military district. Confident that old Jenkins would never find them up here, he took his sweet time packing up his stuff and getting ready. I mean, what else could he do? For some reason or another, he just was having a fit of the giggles, and couldn't seem to stop. Dang, the wonders of alcohol.

Getting together his traveling equipment and rounding up some extra food he had left over from previous trips, the dracon turned to Steve. "Well, what do you think, then? Just follow this treasure map to the castle?" It was so much like a fairy tale adventure that the desensitized Celethor howled into laughter once again. He could tell this was going to be a long day.

Being fully equiped and ready for anything, the two headed off to the city gates, where they passed through the guards and headed off into the wilderness. Celethor pulled out the map and took a look at it. He turned it this way and that, trying to get his bearings, but was obviously stoned cold, as he couldn't even tell which way was north. At last he finally handed the map to Steve and said, "Lead the way, buddy." It was quite apparent this wasn't your ordinary group of adventurers, but, they were a team. The ring on Celethor's finger said so.

Steve Lionhart Gil'dae · February 5, 2005, 03:35 PM

Steve merrily followed Celethor up to the military district to collect together their gear. He was quite confident that Jenkins wouldn't be looking for them, and Steve doubted he would have been able to run fast enough to catch them if the guy did spot them! So the drunken Juggernaut walked on without a care in the world, occasionally breaking into a very poorly sung random song and annoying people with his drunkenness. He thought about the journey ahead. Castles, money! Beer! BEER! Yay! His thinking wasn't very complicated, to be honest, and 'evil spirits' and other such downers were forgotten.

Steve gathered together his travelling equipment, along with his longsword, which his drunkenly swung around a few times despite the danger of it. He had no food, which, didn't actually bother him at the time, although everything else he needed was there. He looked carefully at the map, although he wasn't actually being careful at all because not too much was being registered.

"Yeah, if we walk around for a while, we should find a huge pink X on the ground. Should be a few hundred meters across at least by the looks of this map..." What he had just said was absolute rubbish, but he really didn't know what he was saying. Neither did he care all that much. It was in such a mood that he departed Narim through the city gates, and after being asked by Celethor, took up the map and attempted to point them in the right direction. "This way?" He half stated half asked, pointing in a direction that could have been north east, although he wasn't completely sure.