A curious thing happened in the Gaj one night...
Mar 25, 2016 16:29:08 GMT -5
latrineswimmer, BitterFlashback, and 1 more like this
Post by grumble on Mar 25, 2016 16:29:08 GMT -5
You pass beneath the shadow of the red sandstone templar statue.
The Gladiator and the Gaj Tavern -- Main Room [N, E, S, Quit]
A wall here is designated as a message board.
The marred, dusky-toned male is standing at a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
The black-haired, green-eyed man is sitting at a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
A sharp-eyed female prostitute slouches in a corner.
The angular, silver-eyed man is here, leaning casually against a wall.
The brutally-scarred orange dwarf sits here at a table, drinking heavily.
A dark-skinned human barkeep stands behind the bar.
The lean, sun-reddened woman laughs as she talks at a large table here.
The hairy, dark-skinned woman watches the room from beside the bar here.
The towering, golden-haired half-giant is here, crouched beside a table.
Slipping onto a stool, you sit at a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
The black-haired, green-eyed man looks at you.
You get your pile of allanaki coins from your leather tool bag.
There were 1089 coins.
It is no problem.
Combining the pouches, you put your pile of allanaki coins into your leather tool bag.
You close your leather tool bag.
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, to you:
"I still you are still breathing air, longear."
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, to you:
"Everything been quiet?"
The marred, dusky-toned male shrugs a lazy shoulder.
At your table, you say in allundean, tilting his head:
"I h-have been for um, s-some time now. F-for the most p-part."
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, shaking his head:
"Stop speaking gibberish"
Sparing a once over, the marred, dusky-toned male looks down at you.
The figure in an inky-black, hooded sandcloth greatcloak shrugs slighty, then shakes his head.
The smell of bile and unwashed bodies permeates through the room.
You look at the black-haired, green-eyed man.
The tall human before you possesses a well-proportioned muscular body.
He has thick arms and legs which compliment his broad chest and shoulders.
His light olive skin is fairer in complexion than most but still bears the
roughness of prolonged exposure to strong winds and biting sands. Silky
strands of jet-black hair erupt from his head and flow down to his
shoulders. This man's past has clearly left its marks on his body, with a
large brutal scar running down the left side of his face and another
managing to get across his entire throat. Despite the disfiguring scars his
face still has rather sleek facial features. In sharp contrast to his black
hair, this man gazes upon the world with a brilliant pair of green eyes.
The black-haired, green-eyed man is in excellent condition.
The black-haired, green-eyed man is using:
<face> a massive, slash-marked scar
<neck> a long, jagged-looking scar
<about throat> a rough hide waterskin
<slung across back> a dusty heavy bone cleaver
<across back> a dusty bone-studded backpack
<on torso> a bloodied simple sandcloth shirt
<secondary hand> a dusty kite shield
<forearms> a pair of faint, crossed scars
<as belt> a heavy, bone-ringed leather swordbelt
<around body> a dusty hooded, drab yellow sandcloth dustcloak
<about waist> a shell-plated leather codpiece
<on legs> a pair of light-brown pants
<on feet> a dusty pair of chalton leather boots
He is carrying:
nothing obvious
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, sighing towards you:
"Why do you always have to have such a dumb look on your face, elf?"
The figure in an inky-black, hooded sandcloth greatcloak ignores the black-haired, green-eyed man and lets his eyes scan the crowd.
Covering his yawning pie-hole, the marred, dusky-toned male eases away from the counter.
The marred, dusky-toned male pushes away from a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
You contact the red-eyed, raven-haired woman with the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the red-eyed, raven-haired woman:
"Th-the black h-haired fucker's um, t-trying to b-boss me around a-and wondering a-aloud how I'm s-still breathing, it's uh, a-annoying."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
You send a telepathic message to the red-eyed, raven-haired woman:
"I'm g-going to ignore him..."
The red-eyed, raven-haired woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Ah, really? I'll come over in a moment, buy you a drink and maybe that'll shut him up."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the red-eyed, raven-haired woman:
"M-maybe, maybe he'll uh, s-say something dumb..."
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish:
"Well don't blame me for simply telling you the truth. I know it hurts but ain't my fault you look stupid with your long ears and goofy looking face."
The black-haired, green-eyed man shrugs idly as he sighs leaning against the bar counter.
talk (plainly) I n-needn't concern myself with um, y-you're babbling, i-it's worth less th-than the v-vomit and p-piss I tracked th-through on the way to my stool.
At your table, you say in sirihish, plainly:
"I n-needn't concern myself with um, y-you're babbling, i-it's worth less th-than the v-vomit and p-piss I tracked th-through on the way to my stool."
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, to you, with a raised brow:
"What? Whats your problem? YOu have a dumb look to your face today. More so then usual. You should thank me for telling you. OTher people would just let you walk around looking stupid."
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, shrugging:
"At least I'm being honest."
talk (with a light shrug) L-least it's um, j-just a today th-thing for me...
At your table, you say in sirihish, with a light shrug:
"L-least it's um, j-just a today th-thing for me..."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the red-eyed, raven-haired woman:
"N-now he's uh, t-trying to t-taunt me, b-but he's giving me o-openings."
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, shaking his head at you:
"Its one dumb thing after another coming out of your mouth. As I said, you should be thankful, longear. You ears are looking even longer today too. I keep telling you, the stupider you act, the longer they will get."
The red-eyed, raven-haired woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Exploit them. *mirth*"
.
At your table, you say in sirihish, with a grin:
"I-is a wonder y-yours don't graze the c-cieling."
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, to you:
"See its saying stupid stuff like that which will force you to cut your ears someday. Anyways stupid, anything interesting happen lately?"
talk (with a light shrug) O-other than the u-um, r-rudest roundear I've s-seen in a long t-time making an appearance, n-not really.
At your table, you say in sirihish, with a light shrug:
"O-other than the u-um, r-rudest roundear I've s-seen in a long t-time making an appearance, n-not really."
At your table, you say in sirihish, with a light shrug:
"M-more of the same, b-beatings, um, sillyness. N-not much remarkable."
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, looking thoughtful:
"Oh the blonde byner? I heard she really has a mouth on her. I want to meet her. "
The red-eyed, raven-haired woman has arrived from the north.
The red-eyed, raven-haired woman pushes apart the tarp, peering into the tavern.
Padding over and pulling out a seat, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman sits at a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in southern-accented sirihish, as she settles on her stool with a faint groan:
"Evening fellas."
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, looking over to the red-eyed, raven-haired woman:
"Hey corporal."
At your table, you say in sirihish, nodding once:
"E-evening. How a-are things, C-Corporal?"
The black-haired, green-eyed man looks at the red-eyed, raven-haired woman.
The rangy, red-haired young man has arrived from the north.
The long, sandy-brown man has arrived from the north.
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, to the red-eyed, raven-haired woman:
"You look more tired and beat up then usual."
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in southern-accented sirihish, tipping a nod down the bar before patting to the stool next to the red-eyed, raven-haired woman, looking to you:
"Come sit next to me, fella. Tell me if there's anything new?"
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
Taking a direct line towards it, the long, sandy-brown man sits at a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
Giving a quick wave to the red-eyed, raven-haired woman, the rangy, red-haired young man sits at a long, scarred bar of agafari wood, straddling an empty stool at the long, sandy-brown man's right.
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in southern-accented sirihish, looking over to the black-haired, green-eyed man:
"I always look tired and beat up."
The figure in an inky-black, hooded sandcloth greatcloak nods, walking down the bar to slip on the stool the red-eyed, raven-haired woman indicates.
Glancing up, the rangy, red-haired young man looks at you.
The red-eyed, raven-haired woman smiles and waves to the rangy, red-haired young man and the long, sandy-brown man.
The long, sandy-brown man returns a wave down a long, scarred bar of agafari wood to the red-eyed, raven-haired woman.
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in southern-accented sirihish, looking to you:
"Thanks for setting up Recruit Dannet there with that inix vest. Seems to be working out for him."
At your table, the rangy, red-haired young man says in southern-accented sirihish, contemplatively, after a glance over you:
"Should I get a kilt? I should get a kilt."
A heated game of kruth breaks out in violence, ending just as quick as blood is shed.
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in southern-accented sirihish, with a curl of her lips to the rangy, red-haired young man before looking to you:
"Can you make armored kilts?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, shaking his head:
"N-not much, s-same old, uh, stuff, j-just trying to um, m-make a little coin. O-oh? Is it now? T-that's good to uh, hear."
At your table, the long, sandy-brown man says in southern-accented sirihish, turning to speak to the rangy, red-haired young man:
"Would ye wear anythin' under the thing, is the serious question."
The rangy, red-haired young man turns his attention with interest to you.
At your table, the rangy, red-haired young man says in southern-accented sirihish, as if it should be obvious:
"Great big codpiece."
The red-eyed, raven-haired woman chortles amusedly to the rangy, red-haired young man.
At your table, you say in sirihish, shaking his head:
"I c-can't, b-but there's a um, n-nice um, s-skirt, r-red leather a-and chitin, i-in Salarr's armor shop."
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, chuckling:
"I just saw a byner wearing a kilt, it looked pretty good."
The long, sandy-brown man cracks a thin smile, followed by a yawn.
At your table, the rangy, red-haired young man says in southern-accented sirihish, stretching out one leg thoughtfully:
"Hmmn. I don't actually have any green, so th'red wouldn't stand out too bad."
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in southern-accented sirihish, looking to the rangy, red-haired young man then to you:
"No, he's going to need a kilt to look viscous."
The figure in an inky-black, hooded sandcloth greatcloak snickers softly.
The broad, thick-limbed man has arrived from the north.
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in southern-accented sirihish:
"Vicious, rather."
At your table, the rangy, red-haired young man says in southern-accented sirihish, raising his coppery eyebrows at the red-eyed, raven-haired woman:
"To look what now?"
The broad, thick-limbed man approaches you.
The rangy, red-haired young man nods with an 'ah' sound.
The red-eyed, raven-haired woman snickers amusedly to the rangy, red-haired young man.
The broad, thick-limbed man asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"You're a sort of merchant, right?"
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"I w-was wearing s-some cheap uh, s-sandcloth skirt u-until a um, f-friend bought this f-for me, but I try n-not to look um, v-vicious, myself."
Glancing up briefly, you look up at the broad, thick-limbed man.
This man looks somewhat like a half-giant in miniature, with thick limbs,
a broad, rotund torso, ruddy skin, coarse hair, and exaggerated facial
features. He is clean-shaven and has warm, curious brown eyes. His
naturally unruly black hair is drawn back into a short tail.
The broad, thick-limbed man is in excellent condition.
The broad, thick-limbed man is using:
<on head> a new sturdy inix-hide helmet
<around neck> a grey chitin neckband
<about throat> a small, padded leather coin pouch
<across back> a daraq shield
<on torso> a black, bone-plated jerkin
<on right shoulder> a black leather patch with a jade cross
<around right wrist> a thick, rope-bound leather bracer
<around left wrist> a thick, rope-bound leather bracer
<as belt> a black belt
<hung from belt> a sawtoothed bone broadsword
<hung from belt> an obsidian halfsword
<around body> a deep hooded, sandy brown longcloak
<about waist> a leather tool bag
<on legs> a pair of light-brown pants
<on feet> a pair of scrub-camouflaged, sandcloth-covered boots
He is carrying:
nothing obvious
The tomboyish, one-eyed young woman has arrived from the north, pushing the tarp aside.
The rangy, red-haired young man opens his double-layered sandcloth pack, rummaging around as he watches the broad, thick-limbed man.
The rangy, red-haired young man gets his crudely-stitched canvas pouch from his double-layered sandcloth pack.
The tomboyish, one-eyed young woman rolls her shoulder as she walks in, trodding along over to a rough sandstone table.
Tugging a seat out, the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman sits at a rough sandstone table.
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in southern-accented sirihish, grinning amusedly:
"Can't have my recruits becoming viscous."
The tomboyish, one-eyed young woman props her boots up on an empty seat, leaning back with an exhale.
After a moment, you say to the broad, thick-limbed man, in sirihish:
"I d-don't really uh, m-make much c-coin doing it and uh, t-tend to direct m-most business t-to the Merchant Houses."
The rangy, red-haired young man lifts his fist to his chest in salute to the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman, bringing along his crudely-stitched canvas pouch which squishes oddly against his black, bone-plated jerkin.
The broad, thick-limbed man asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Do you happen to have any bits of jade in store?"
Glancing idly, the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman looks up at the black-haired, green-eyed man.
The rangy, red-haired young man gets his shriveled mass of burned meat from his crudely-stitched canvas pouch.
The rangy, red-haired young man closes his double-layered sandcloth pack.
The tomboyish, one-eyed young woman glances to the rangy, red-haired young man, returning the salute lazily.
Shaking his head, you say, in sirihish:
"I w-wish I did, j-jade turns o-out nicely o-once you uh, w-work it."
The black-haired, green-eyed man looks up at the broad, thick-limbed man.
Listening to your conversation, the rangy, red-haired young man takes a bite of his shriveled mass of burned meat.
You ask, in sirihish:
"W-were you needing something i-in particular, i-if I find myself w-with some?"
The broad, thick-limbed man says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"I see. Well, if you come across a piece, I'll pay a small for it."
At your table, the rangy, red-haired young man says in southern-accented sirihish, once he's chewed, mostly to himself:
"Yeah, gahtle fixes -everything-."
The broad, thick-limbed man says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Just need a sample."
The broad, thick-limbed man sits at a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
The rangy, red-haired young man eats his half eaten shriveled mass of burned meat, contentedly gnawing away.
Nodding once, you say, in sirihish:
"A-alright, I'll um, t-try and find you i-if I get some."
The broad, thick-limbed man says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Thanks. My name's Vori."
His attention turning, the long, sandy-brown man looks at the black-haired, green-eyed man.
A sharp-eyed female prostitute walks north.
The rangy, red-haired young man opens his double-layered sandcloth pack.
The rangy, red-haired young man puts his crudely-stitched canvas pouch into his double-layered sandcloth pack.
The rangy, red-haired young man closes his double-layered sandcloth pack.
talk (with a faint smile) G-good to meet you, um, V-Vori, I'm Malrith.
At your table, you say in sirihish, with a faint smile:
"G-good to meet you, um, V-Vori, I'm Malrith."
The broad, thick-limbed man nods agreeably.
Eyeing him intently, humming softly, the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman looks up at the black-haired, green-eyed man.
The broad, thick-limbed man gets his pile of allanaki coins from his small, padded leather coin pouch.
The broad, thick-limbed man gives the dark-skinned human barkeep some coins in exchange for a tall ceramic mug.
The broad, thick-limbed man puts his pile of allanaki coins into his small, padded leather coin pouch.
The broad, thick-limbed man gulps down some ale.
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"A-anything else you u-um, have n-need of?"
At your table, the long, sandy-brown man says in southern-accented sirihish, turning to the black-haired, green-eyed man:
"Oi, mate. You got a story on how you got those scars?"
Curiously, the rangy, red-haired young man looks at the black-haired, green-eyed man.
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, nodding:
"Yeah I slipped and fell on some branches...nasty cuts."
The broad, thick-limbed man seems to think for a moment.
Curiously, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman looks at the black-haired, green-eyed man.
At your table, the broad, thick-limbed man says in southern-accented sirihish:
"A black feather. Not the small sort though. I'll pay half a small for that."
At your table, the rangy, red-haired young man says in southern-accented sirihish, to the black-haired, green-eyed man, snorting:
"That also how y'got your shirt all bloody? Branches are dicks."
At your table, the long, sandy-brown man says in southern-accented sirihish, his eyebrows raised in surprise at the black-haired, green-eyed man:
"Come on, man! Ye can't just say them buggers 'r from /branches/ of all things."
talk (blinking) B-black feather, e-eh? A-all I've uh... let me uh, s-see, I do h-have a black f-feather, but I d-don't know if it's the um, r-right one... I'll be um, right back.
At your table, you say in sirihish, blinking:
"B-black feather, e-eh? A-all I've uh... let me uh, s-see, I do h-have a black f-feather, but I d-don't know if it's the um, r-right one... I'll be um, right back."
At your table, the broad, thick-limbed man says in southern-accented sirihish:
"I'll have to leave around dawn."
At your table, the rangy, red-haired young man says in southern-accented sirihish, to the long, sandy-brown man, nodding over to the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman:
"Sarge should say that whenever anyone asks about the eye. 'Oh, walked inta some branches.'"
Hastily slipping off his stool and making his way southwards., you stand up from a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
*Malrith exits to take a quick inventory of his massive sperg-hoarde*
The Gladiator and the Gaj Tavern -- Roasting Pits [N, U]
Some shriveled masses of burned meat are here.
A small portion of a shriveled mass of burned meat lies discarded here.
The Gladiator and the Gaj Tavern -- Main Room [N, E, S, Quit]
A wall here is designated as a message board.
The tomboyish, one-eyed young woman is sitting at a rough sandstone table.
The broad, thick-limbed man is sitting at a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
The long, sandy-brown man is sitting at a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
The rangy, red-haired young man is sitting at a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
The red-eyed, raven-haired woman is sitting at a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
The black-haired, green-eyed man is sitting at a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
The angular, silver-eyed man is here, leaning casually against a wall.
The brutally-scarred orange dwarf sits here at a table, drinking heavily.
A dark-skinned human barkeep stands behind the bar.
The lean, sun-reddened woman laughs as she talks at a large table here.
The hairy, dark-skinned woman watches the room from beside the bar here.
The towering, golden-haired half-giant is here, crouched beside a table.
Reclaiming his stool, you sit at a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
talk (frowning at the small size of ~feather) T-take it um, th-this isn't it?
At your table, you say in sirihish, frowning at the small size of your dusky-black feather:
"T-take it um, th-this isn't it?"
At your table, the long, sandy-brown man says in southern-accented sirihish, shrugging to the rangy, red-haired young man:
"If'n ye say so, mate. There's no branches down this far south to be a real nuisance, 'owever."
The tomboyish, one-eyed young woman just lets a sadistic grin loose towards the rangy, red-haired young man.
You give your dusky-black feather to the broad, thick-limbed man.
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in southern-accented sirihish, after clearing his throat:
"Not as far as some people would think. Usually take a stroll out the gates, take a tumble with scrabs now and then, call it a day"
The short figure in a crude hooded tarpaulin windcloak has arrived from the east.
The short figure in a crude hooded tarpaulin windcloak walks north.
The rangy, red-haired young man continues grimacing, looking put-out.
At your table, the broad, thick-limbed man says in southern-accented sirihish:
"Hrm. Not bad, but what is it from?"
The broad, thick-limbed man gives you his dusky-black feather.
At your table, the rangy, red-haired young man says in southern-accented sirihish, muttering it to himself again, decisively:
"It's funny. -Branches.-"
At your table, the long, sandy-brown man says in southern-accented sirihish, turning back to the black-haired, green-eyed man:
"Now, if'n he said /rocks/, then I'd believe 'im. Rocks 'r a bitch."
At your table, you say in sirihish, with a slight shrug:
"I-I'm not s-sure, but I could uh, a-ask a friend of ine."
At your table, the broad, thick-limbed man says in southern-accented sirihish:
"Guess I'm looking more for a typical white feather such as Kadius sells, dyed black."
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in southern-accented sirihish, nodding a couple of times, to the black-haired, green-eyed man:
"I see. You're a nakki born?"
Hooking one, the rangy, red-haired young man gets his tall ceramic mug from a long, scarred bar of agafari wood, turning it grumpily over in his hands.
At your table, you say in sirihish, lifting his brows:
"I th-think I, w-well, I t-tried to uh, d-do that once, b-but I'll see if I c-can figure it out, m-maybe didn't uh, t-try enough dye."
The long, sandy-brown man whispers something to the rangy, red-haired young man.
At your table, the broad, thick-limbed man says in southern-accented sirihish, nodding:
"Half a small if you come up with one."
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in southern-accented sirihish, to the red-eyed, raven-haired woman with a grin:
"Of course, but only when I'm in allanak, Corporal. I was born right on main street."
The rangy, red-haired young man rolls his eyes, but doesn't object to the long, sandy-brown man's leaning as he keeps toying with the empty mug.
talk (nodding once) Alright, I-I'll see if I c-can get it d-done and uh, t-try to find your m-mind if I can i-in the evening.
At your table, you say in sirihish, nodding once:
"Alright, I-I'll see if I c-can get it d-done and uh, t-try to find your m-mind if I can i-in the evening."
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in southern-accented sirihish, to the red-eyed, raven-haired woman:
"I got no funny tattoos though on my hands, and some people say I'm a bit of an asshole. I'd say I fit in around here I think more so then any other place"
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in southern-accented sirihish, crossing a leg over a knee as she smiles to the black-haired, green-eyed man:
"I won't accept that as an answer. Please try again and give me a better one."
At your table, the broad, thick-limbed man says in southern-accented sirihish:
"Good, thanks."
The broad, thick-limbed man drinks ale from his tall ceramic mug.
The rangy, red-haired young man shifts to waggle his coppery eyebrows at the long, sandy-brown man.
The long, sandy-brown man returns the rangy, red-haired young man's eyebrow waggle with a few of his own, his expression chiseled in stone.
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in southern-accented sirihish, to the red-eyed, raven-haired woman, chuckling:
"I'm nakki born. I travel up north to luirs where i picked up the accent, didn't even notice I was still talking with it. "
At your table, you say in sirihish, nodding once:
"Y-you're very um, w-welcome..."
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in southern-accented sirihish, tilting her head curiously to the black-haired, green-eyed man:
"I see, so you kind of lied when I asked how far you've traveled, didn't you?"
The rangy, red-haired young man drops his gaze to his tall ceramic mug with a strangled cough.
At your table, the long, sandy-brown man says in southern-accented sirihish, rubbing at his neck:
"Must be some 'orrible branches up in Luir's."
The rangy, red-haired young man aims a swift kick at the long, sandy-brown man's barstool.
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in southern-accented sirihish, with a quirk of a grin:
"Last I heard, you didn't need to go up to Luirs to bag a scrab."
The long, sandy-brown man wobbles on his stool, steadying himself by grabbing on to a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in southern-accented sirihish, to the red-eyed, raven-haired woman:
"Hmmm. No not really lied, i gave you a more serious answer."
The rangy, red-haired young man innocently spins his tall ceramic mug around between his fingers.
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in southern-accented sirihish, raising her eyebrows, looking doubtful:
"You call that a serious answer?"
The broad, thick-limbed man puts his tall ceramic mug onto a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
The red-eyed, raven-haired woman scoffs in amusement.
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in southern-accented sirihish, to the red-eyed, raven-haired woman:
"You talk to anyone in luirs and they'll tell you they were born in the baileys. You talk to people in storm, they'll tell you their mother dropped them right outside the tavern"
The rangy, red-haired young man tosses his tall ceramic mug a couple inches from palm to palm as he listens with doubtful interest to the black-haired, green-eyed man's story.
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in southern-accented sirihish:
"In my case, I speak the talk, and got no tattoos in my hand. You got enough tribals around here anyways, you wouldn't even need to have spent some time in luirs to pick it up."
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in sirihish, nodding slightly to the black-haired, green-eyed man as she gestures to him:
"And what makes it right for you to say dubious things to a Corporal of His Arm. In the presence of her Recruits and Sergeant, from the very beginning?"
The figure in an inky-black, hooded sandcloth greatcloak sits quietly, frowning softly as his gaze scans the crowd.
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in sirihish, tapping the back of her palm:
"You don't need inks to be their spy."
Pushing up casually, the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman stands up from a rough sandstone table.
The sable-haired, jade-eyed soldier has arrived from the north.
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, to the red-eyed, raven-haired woman:
"Well I was chatting to you before and had a friendly chat, didn't think you were very serious this time."
The sable-haired, jade-eyed soldier walks east.
Idly walking over, the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman stands at a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
The long, sandy-brown man shifts in his seat, looking down a long, scarred bar of agafari wood to focus on the black-haired, green-eyed man.
Not salaciously this time, the rangy, red-haired young man lifts his eyebrows at the long, sandy-brown man and glances from him to the black-haired, green-eyed man and the red-eyed, raven-haired woman.
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in sirihish, cracking her knuckles:
"When a militia asks a question, it's always -safer- and -smarter- to answer their question seriously."
The sounds of a brawl echo through the room, fists thudding solidly against flesh until a victor is established.
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in sirihish, expelling a sigh as she looks over to the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman:
"What do you think, Sergeant?"
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish:
"Well but if you are asking me how far i travelled, when I was younger i used to head up to luirs with my family. Recently not so much, just head out the gate and play with scrab now and then."
At your table, the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman says in sirihish, moving along bar to stand near the black-haired, green-eyed man, speaking casually despite the situation:
"A pleasure t' meet you, asshat. Have we met? I'm Sergeant Crete, First a' th' Seventh, Jade Sabers Legion."
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, to the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman:
"No, don't think we've met, sergeant."
A dark-skinned human barkeep spits into a mug then begins to wipe it out with a dirty rag.
At your table, the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman says in sirihish, nodding lightly:
"Of course not, 'course not, because if we 'ad before y' wouldn't be walkin'. Lemme ask y' somethin', pal, do y' know exactly what th' purpose of th' Jade Sabers Legion is?"
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, shaking his head:
"I've no idea."
The red-eyed, raven-haired woman holds a thin smile as she casually bobs her leg, watching the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman and the black-haired, green-eyed man.
The rangy, red-haired young man slooowly turns his tall ceramic mug in a full vertical rotation between his fingers as he watches the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman and the black-haired, green-eyed man.
At your table, the long, sandy-brown man says in sirihish, turning to speak at the rangy, red-haired young man:
"Ah, he's got no idea."
At your table, the rangy, red-haired young man says in sirihish, to the long, sandy-brown man, conversationally:
"That's unfortunate."
At your table, the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman says in sirihish, leaning in on a long, scarred bar of agafari wood, speaking conversationally:
"We defend th' city from th' Northern Barbarians and their spies. And right now we're in a time of war, which means we're on higher alert than normal."
The figure in an inky-black, hooded sandcloth greatcloak lifts his eyebrows slightly, listening to the conversation in silence.
At your table, the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman says in sirihish, with a very grim smile:
"And righ' now, at this bar, I don' see anyone quite as spyish as you are, my friend."
At your table, the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman says in sirihish, licking her lips, glancing over to the red-eyed, raven-haired woman:
"Corporal, please grab this man's wrist."
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, sighing:
"That is unfortunate, though I'm poor as fuck and I don't even own a mount right now. You can check my stuff to see if I have anything a spy would have?"
At your table, the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman says in sirihish, nodding lightly:
"Oh, we will."
The black-haired, green-eyed man sighs as he raises his hands in complience.
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in sirihish, raising her eyebrows to the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman, though it's more played:
"We're -really- going to take a finger, Sergeant? "
The red-eyed, raven-haired woman reaches out and grabs wrist, nevertheless.
The long, sandy-brown man whispers something to the rangy, red-haired young man.
At your table, the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman says in sirihish, with a snort:
"Mmh, maybe. But fer now, we'll hold of. Grab him properly, le's take th' scum in fer a search."
At your table, the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman says in sirihish, glancing down the bar:
"Recruits, come along."
Shrugging, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman stands up from a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
The rangy, red-haired young man keeps passing his tall ceramic mug lightly back and forth between his hands, his body poised at the edge of his stool as he watches the red-eyed, raven-haired woman and the black-haired, green-eyed man.
Immediately, the long, sandy-brown man stands up from a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
The red-eyed, raven-haired woman subdues the black-haired, green-eyed man.
Promptly, the rangy, red-haired young man stands up from a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
Tossing it to the dark-skinned human barkeep, the rangy, red-haired young man discards his tall ceramic mug.
The tomboyish, one-eyed young woman pushes away from a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
The broad, thick-limbed man stands up from a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
The red-eyed, raven-haired woman says to the black-haired, green-eyed man, in sirihish:
"Don't fight and you might live."
The tomboyish, one-eyed young woman starts north with a stride, pushing through the gawking crowds.
Pushing the tarp away, the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman walks north.
The broad, thick-limbed man walks north.
The rangy, red-haired young man walks north.
The long, sandy-brown man walks north.
The red-eyed, raven-haired woman walks north, dragging the black-haired, green-eyed man behind her.
A dark-skinned human barkeep spits into a mug then begins to wipe it out with a dirty rag.
The figure in an inky-black, hooded sandcloth greatcloak blinks, looking northwards, then looses a cackle.
Slapping a gloved hand on a long, scarred bar of agafari wood, you say, in sirihish:
"W-welp, I got a feather to tend to."
You stand up from a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
The Gladiator and the Gaj Tavern -- Main Room [N, E, S, Quit]
A wall here is designated as a message board.
The marred, dusky-toned male is standing at a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
The black-haired, green-eyed man is sitting at a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
A sharp-eyed female prostitute slouches in a corner.
The angular, silver-eyed man is here, leaning casually against a wall.
The brutally-scarred orange dwarf sits here at a table, drinking heavily.
A dark-skinned human barkeep stands behind the bar.
The lean, sun-reddened woman laughs as she talks at a large table here.
The hairy, dark-skinned woman watches the room from beside the bar here.
The towering, golden-haired half-giant is here, crouched beside a table.
Slipping onto a stool, you sit at a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
The black-haired, green-eyed man looks at you.
You get your pile of allanaki coins from your leather tool bag.
There were 1089 coins.
It is no problem.
Combining the pouches, you put your pile of allanaki coins into your leather tool bag.
You close your leather tool bag.
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, to you:
"I still you are still breathing air, longear."
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, to you:
"Everything been quiet?"
The marred, dusky-toned male shrugs a lazy shoulder.
At your table, you say in allundean, tilting his head:
"I h-have been for um, s-some time now. F-for the most p-part."
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, shaking his head:
"Stop speaking gibberish"
Sparing a once over, the marred, dusky-toned male looks down at you.
The figure in an inky-black, hooded sandcloth greatcloak shrugs slighty, then shakes his head.
The smell of bile and unwashed bodies permeates through the room.
You look at the black-haired, green-eyed man.
The tall human before you possesses a well-proportioned muscular body.
He has thick arms and legs which compliment his broad chest and shoulders.
His light olive skin is fairer in complexion than most but still bears the
roughness of prolonged exposure to strong winds and biting sands. Silky
strands of jet-black hair erupt from his head and flow down to his
shoulders. This man's past has clearly left its marks on his body, with a
large brutal scar running down the left side of his face and another
managing to get across his entire throat. Despite the disfiguring scars his
face still has rather sleek facial features. In sharp contrast to his black
hair, this man gazes upon the world with a brilliant pair of green eyes.
The black-haired, green-eyed man is in excellent condition.
The black-haired, green-eyed man is using:
<face> a massive, slash-marked scar
<neck> a long, jagged-looking scar
<about throat> a rough hide waterskin
<slung across back> a dusty heavy bone cleaver
<across back> a dusty bone-studded backpack
<on torso> a bloodied simple sandcloth shirt
<secondary hand> a dusty kite shield
<forearms> a pair of faint, crossed scars
<as belt> a heavy, bone-ringed leather swordbelt
<around body> a dusty hooded, drab yellow sandcloth dustcloak
<about waist> a shell-plated leather codpiece
<on legs> a pair of light-brown pants
<on feet> a dusty pair of chalton leather boots
He is carrying:
nothing obvious
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, sighing towards you:
"Why do you always have to have such a dumb look on your face, elf?"
The figure in an inky-black, hooded sandcloth greatcloak ignores the black-haired, green-eyed man and lets his eyes scan the crowd.
Covering his yawning pie-hole, the marred, dusky-toned male eases away from the counter.
The marred, dusky-toned male pushes away from a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
You contact the red-eyed, raven-haired woman with the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the red-eyed, raven-haired woman:
"Th-the black h-haired fucker's um, t-trying to b-boss me around a-and wondering a-aloud how I'm s-still breathing, it's uh, a-annoying."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
You send a telepathic message to the red-eyed, raven-haired woman:
"I'm g-going to ignore him..."
The red-eyed, raven-haired woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Ah, really? I'll come over in a moment, buy you a drink and maybe that'll shut him up."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the red-eyed, raven-haired woman:
"M-maybe, maybe he'll uh, s-say something dumb..."
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish:
"Well don't blame me for simply telling you the truth. I know it hurts but ain't my fault you look stupid with your long ears and goofy looking face."
The black-haired, green-eyed man shrugs idly as he sighs leaning against the bar counter.
talk (plainly) I n-needn't concern myself with um, y-you're babbling, i-it's worth less th-than the v-vomit and p-piss I tracked th-through on the way to my stool.
At your table, you say in sirihish, plainly:
"I n-needn't concern myself with um, y-you're babbling, i-it's worth less th-than the v-vomit and p-piss I tracked th-through on the way to my stool."
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, to you, with a raised brow:
"What? Whats your problem? YOu have a dumb look to your face today. More so then usual. You should thank me for telling you. OTher people would just let you walk around looking stupid."
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, shrugging:
"At least I'm being honest."
talk (with a light shrug) L-least it's um, j-just a today th-thing for me...
At your table, you say in sirihish, with a light shrug:
"L-least it's um, j-just a today th-thing for me..."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the red-eyed, raven-haired woman:
"N-now he's uh, t-trying to t-taunt me, b-but he's giving me o-openings."
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, shaking his head at you:
"Its one dumb thing after another coming out of your mouth. As I said, you should be thankful, longear. You ears are looking even longer today too. I keep telling you, the stupider you act, the longer they will get."
The red-eyed, raven-haired woman sends you a telepathic message:
"Exploit them. *mirth*"
.
At your table, you say in sirihish, with a grin:
"I-is a wonder y-yours don't graze the c-cieling."
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, to you:
"See its saying stupid stuff like that which will force you to cut your ears someday. Anyways stupid, anything interesting happen lately?"
talk (with a light shrug) O-other than the u-um, r-rudest roundear I've s-seen in a long t-time making an appearance, n-not really.
At your table, you say in sirihish, with a light shrug:
"O-other than the u-um, r-rudest roundear I've s-seen in a long t-time making an appearance, n-not really."
At your table, you say in sirihish, with a light shrug:
"M-more of the same, b-beatings, um, sillyness. N-not much remarkable."
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, looking thoughtful:
"Oh the blonde byner? I heard she really has a mouth on her. I want to meet her. "
The red-eyed, raven-haired woman has arrived from the north.
The red-eyed, raven-haired woman pushes apart the tarp, peering into the tavern.
Padding over and pulling out a seat, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman sits at a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in southern-accented sirihish, as she settles on her stool with a faint groan:
"Evening fellas."
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, looking over to the red-eyed, raven-haired woman:
"Hey corporal."
At your table, you say in sirihish, nodding once:
"E-evening. How a-are things, C-Corporal?"
The black-haired, green-eyed man looks at the red-eyed, raven-haired woman.
The rangy, red-haired young man has arrived from the north.
The long, sandy-brown man has arrived from the north.
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, to the red-eyed, raven-haired woman:
"You look more tired and beat up then usual."
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in southern-accented sirihish, tipping a nod down the bar before patting to the stool next to the red-eyed, raven-haired woman, looking to you:
"Come sit next to me, fella. Tell me if there's anything new?"
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
Taking a direct line towards it, the long, sandy-brown man sits at a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
Giving a quick wave to the red-eyed, raven-haired woman, the rangy, red-haired young man sits at a long, scarred bar of agafari wood, straddling an empty stool at the long, sandy-brown man's right.
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in southern-accented sirihish, looking over to the black-haired, green-eyed man:
"I always look tired and beat up."
The figure in an inky-black, hooded sandcloth greatcloak nods, walking down the bar to slip on the stool the red-eyed, raven-haired woman indicates.
Glancing up, the rangy, red-haired young man looks at you.
The red-eyed, raven-haired woman smiles and waves to the rangy, red-haired young man and the long, sandy-brown man.
The long, sandy-brown man returns a wave down a long, scarred bar of agafari wood to the red-eyed, raven-haired woman.
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in southern-accented sirihish, looking to you:
"Thanks for setting up Recruit Dannet there with that inix vest. Seems to be working out for him."
At your table, the rangy, red-haired young man says in southern-accented sirihish, contemplatively, after a glance over you:
"Should I get a kilt? I should get a kilt."
A heated game of kruth breaks out in violence, ending just as quick as blood is shed.
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in southern-accented sirihish, with a curl of her lips to the rangy, red-haired young man before looking to you:
"Can you make armored kilts?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, shaking his head:
"N-not much, s-same old, uh, stuff, j-just trying to um, m-make a little coin. O-oh? Is it now? T-that's good to uh, hear."
At your table, the long, sandy-brown man says in southern-accented sirihish, turning to speak to the rangy, red-haired young man:
"Would ye wear anythin' under the thing, is the serious question."
The rangy, red-haired young man turns his attention with interest to you.
At your table, the rangy, red-haired young man says in southern-accented sirihish, as if it should be obvious:
"Great big codpiece."
The red-eyed, raven-haired woman chortles amusedly to the rangy, red-haired young man.
At your table, you say in sirihish, shaking his head:
"I c-can't, b-but there's a um, n-nice um, s-skirt, r-red leather a-and chitin, i-in Salarr's armor shop."
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, chuckling:
"I just saw a byner wearing a kilt, it looked pretty good."
The long, sandy-brown man cracks a thin smile, followed by a yawn.
At your table, the rangy, red-haired young man says in southern-accented sirihish, stretching out one leg thoughtfully:
"Hmmn. I don't actually have any green, so th'red wouldn't stand out too bad."
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in southern-accented sirihish, looking to the rangy, red-haired young man then to you:
"No, he's going to need a kilt to look viscous."
The figure in an inky-black, hooded sandcloth greatcloak snickers softly.
The broad, thick-limbed man has arrived from the north.
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in southern-accented sirihish:
"Vicious, rather."
At your table, the rangy, red-haired young man says in southern-accented sirihish, raising his coppery eyebrows at the red-eyed, raven-haired woman:
"To look what now?"
The broad, thick-limbed man approaches you.
The rangy, red-haired young man nods with an 'ah' sound.
The red-eyed, raven-haired woman snickers amusedly to the rangy, red-haired young man.
The broad, thick-limbed man asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"You're a sort of merchant, right?"
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"I w-was wearing s-some cheap uh, s-sandcloth skirt u-until a um, f-friend bought this f-for me, but I try n-not to look um, v-vicious, myself."
Glancing up briefly, you look up at the broad, thick-limbed man.
This man looks somewhat like a half-giant in miniature, with thick limbs,
a broad, rotund torso, ruddy skin, coarse hair, and exaggerated facial
features. He is clean-shaven and has warm, curious brown eyes. His
naturally unruly black hair is drawn back into a short tail.
The broad, thick-limbed man is in excellent condition.
The broad, thick-limbed man is using:
<on head> a new sturdy inix-hide helmet
<around neck> a grey chitin neckband
<about throat> a small, padded leather coin pouch
<across back> a daraq shield
<on torso> a black, bone-plated jerkin
<on right shoulder> a black leather patch with a jade cross
<around right wrist> a thick, rope-bound leather bracer
<around left wrist> a thick, rope-bound leather bracer
<as belt> a black belt
<hung from belt> a sawtoothed bone broadsword
<hung from belt> an obsidian halfsword
<around body> a deep hooded, sandy brown longcloak
<about waist> a leather tool bag
<on legs> a pair of light-brown pants
<on feet> a pair of scrub-camouflaged, sandcloth-covered boots
He is carrying:
nothing obvious
The tomboyish, one-eyed young woman has arrived from the north, pushing the tarp aside.
The rangy, red-haired young man opens his double-layered sandcloth pack, rummaging around as he watches the broad, thick-limbed man.
The rangy, red-haired young man gets his crudely-stitched canvas pouch from his double-layered sandcloth pack.
The tomboyish, one-eyed young woman rolls her shoulder as she walks in, trodding along over to a rough sandstone table.
Tugging a seat out, the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman sits at a rough sandstone table.
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in southern-accented sirihish, grinning amusedly:
"Can't have my recruits becoming viscous."
The tomboyish, one-eyed young woman props her boots up on an empty seat, leaning back with an exhale.
After a moment, you say to the broad, thick-limbed man, in sirihish:
"I d-don't really uh, m-make much c-coin doing it and uh, t-tend to direct m-most business t-to the Merchant Houses."
The rangy, red-haired young man lifts his fist to his chest in salute to the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman, bringing along his crudely-stitched canvas pouch which squishes oddly against his black, bone-plated jerkin.
The broad, thick-limbed man asks you, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Do you happen to have any bits of jade in store?"
Glancing idly, the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman looks up at the black-haired, green-eyed man.
The rangy, red-haired young man gets his shriveled mass of burned meat from his crudely-stitched canvas pouch.
The rangy, red-haired young man closes his double-layered sandcloth pack.
The tomboyish, one-eyed young woman glances to the rangy, red-haired young man, returning the salute lazily.
Shaking his head, you say, in sirihish:
"I w-wish I did, j-jade turns o-out nicely o-once you uh, w-work it."
The black-haired, green-eyed man looks up at the broad, thick-limbed man.
Listening to your conversation, the rangy, red-haired young man takes a bite of his shriveled mass of burned meat.
You ask, in sirihish:
"W-were you needing something i-in particular, i-if I find myself w-with some?"
The broad, thick-limbed man says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"I see. Well, if you come across a piece, I'll pay a small for it."
At your table, the rangy, red-haired young man says in southern-accented sirihish, once he's chewed, mostly to himself:
"Yeah, gahtle fixes -everything-."
The broad, thick-limbed man says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Just need a sample."
The broad, thick-limbed man sits at a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
The rangy, red-haired young man eats his half eaten shriveled mass of burned meat, contentedly gnawing away.
Nodding once, you say, in sirihish:
"A-alright, I'll um, t-try and find you i-if I get some."
The broad, thick-limbed man says, in southern-accented sirihish:
"Thanks. My name's Vori."
His attention turning, the long, sandy-brown man looks at the black-haired, green-eyed man.
A sharp-eyed female prostitute walks north.
The rangy, red-haired young man opens his double-layered sandcloth pack.
The rangy, red-haired young man puts his crudely-stitched canvas pouch into his double-layered sandcloth pack.
The rangy, red-haired young man closes his double-layered sandcloth pack.
talk (with a faint smile) G-good to meet you, um, V-Vori, I'm Malrith.
At your table, you say in sirihish, with a faint smile:
"G-good to meet you, um, V-Vori, I'm Malrith."
The broad, thick-limbed man nods agreeably.
Eyeing him intently, humming softly, the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman looks up at the black-haired, green-eyed man.
The broad, thick-limbed man gets his pile of allanaki coins from his small, padded leather coin pouch.
The broad, thick-limbed man gives the dark-skinned human barkeep some coins in exchange for a tall ceramic mug.
The broad, thick-limbed man puts his pile of allanaki coins into his small, padded leather coin pouch.
The broad, thick-limbed man gulps down some ale.
At your table, you say in sirihish:
"A-anything else you u-um, have n-need of?"
At your table, the long, sandy-brown man says in southern-accented sirihish, turning to the black-haired, green-eyed man:
"Oi, mate. You got a story on how you got those scars?"
Curiously, the rangy, red-haired young man looks at the black-haired, green-eyed man.
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, nodding:
"Yeah I slipped and fell on some branches...nasty cuts."
The broad, thick-limbed man seems to think for a moment.
Curiously, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman looks at the black-haired, green-eyed man.
At your table, the broad, thick-limbed man says in southern-accented sirihish:
"A black feather. Not the small sort though. I'll pay half a small for that."
At your table, the rangy, red-haired young man says in southern-accented sirihish, to the black-haired, green-eyed man, snorting:
"That also how y'got your shirt all bloody? Branches are dicks."
At your table, the long, sandy-brown man says in southern-accented sirihish, his eyebrows raised in surprise at the black-haired, green-eyed man:
"Come on, man! Ye can't just say them buggers 'r from /branches/ of all things."
talk (blinking) B-black feather, e-eh? A-all I've uh... let me uh, s-see, I do h-have a black f-feather, but I d-don't know if it's the um, r-right one... I'll be um, right back.
At your table, you say in sirihish, blinking:
"B-black feather, e-eh? A-all I've uh... let me uh, s-see, I do h-have a black f-feather, but I d-don't know if it's the um, r-right one... I'll be um, right back."
At your table, the broad, thick-limbed man says in southern-accented sirihish:
"I'll have to leave around dawn."
At your table, the rangy, red-haired young man says in southern-accented sirihish, to the long, sandy-brown man, nodding over to the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman:
"Sarge should say that whenever anyone asks about the eye. 'Oh, walked inta some branches.'"
Hastily slipping off his stool and making his way southwards., you stand up from a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
*Malrith exits to take a quick inventory of his massive sperg-hoarde*
The Gladiator and the Gaj Tavern -- Roasting Pits [N, U]
Some shriveled masses of burned meat are here.
A small portion of a shriveled mass of burned meat lies discarded here.
The Gladiator and the Gaj Tavern -- Main Room [N, E, S, Quit]
A wall here is designated as a message board.
The tomboyish, one-eyed young woman is sitting at a rough sandstone table.
The broad, thick-limbed man is sitting at a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
The long, sandy-brown man is sitting at a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
The rangy, red-haired young man is sitting at a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
The red-eyed, raven-haired woman is sitting at a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
The black-haired, green-eyed man is sitting at a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
The angular, silver-eyed man is here, leaning casually against a wall.
The brutally-scarred orange dwarf sits here at a table, drinking heavily.
A dark-skinned human barkeep stands behind the bar.
The lean, sun-reddened woman laughs as she talks at a large table here.
The hairy, dark-skinned woman watches the room from beside the bar here.
The towering, golden-haired half-giant is here, crouched beside a table.
Reclaiming his stool, you sit at a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
talk (frowning at the small size of ~feather) T-take it um, th-this isn't it?
At your table, you say in sirihish, frowning at the small size of your dusky-black feather:
"T-take it um, th-this isn't it?"
At your table, the long, sandy-brown man says in southern-accented sirihish, shrugging to the rangy, red-haired young man:
"If'n ye say so, mate. There's no branches down this far south to be a real nuisance, 'owever."
The tomboyish, one-eyed young woman just lets a sadistic grin loose towards the rangy, red-haired young man.
You give your dusky-black feather to the broad, thick-limbed man.
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in southern-accented sirihish, after clearing his throat:
"Not as far as some people would think. Usually take a stroll out the gates, take a tumble with scrabs now and then, call it a day"
The short figure in a crude hooded tarpaulin windcloak has arrived from the east.
The short figure in a crude hooded tarpaulin windcloak walks north.
The rangy, red-haired young man continues grimacing, looking put-out.
At your table, the broad, thick-limbed man says in southern-accented sirihish:
"Hrm. Not bad, but what is it from?"
The broad, thick-limbed man gives you his dusky-black feather.
At your table, the rangy, red-haired young man says in southern-accented sirihish, muttering it to himself again, decisively:
"It's funny. -Branches.-"
At your table, the long, sandy-brown man says in southern-accented sirihish, turning back to the black-haired, green-eyed man:
"Now, if'n he said /rocks/, then I'd believe 'im. Rocks 'r a bitch."
At your table, you say in sirihish, with a slight shrug:
"I-I'm not s-sure, but I could uh, a-ask a friend of ine."
At your table, the broad, thick-limbed man says in southern-accented sirihish:
"Guess I'm looking more for a typical white feather such as Kadius sells, dyed black."
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in southern-accented sirihish, nodding a couple of times, to the black-haired, green-eyed man:
"I see. You're a nakki born?"
Hooking one, the rangy, red-haired young man gets his tall ceramic mug from a long, scarred bar of agafari wood, turning it grumpily over in his hands.
At your table, you say in sirihish, lifting his brows:
"I th-think I, w-well, I t-tried to uh, d-do that once, b-but I'll see if I c-can figure it out, m-maybe didn't uh, t-try enough dye."
The long, sandy-brown man whispers something to the rangy, red-haired young man.
At your table, the broad, thick-limbed man says in southern-accented sirihish, nodding:
"Half a small if you come up with one."
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in southern-accented sirihish, to the red-eyed, raven-haired woman with a grin:
"Of course, but only when I'm in allanak, Corporal. I was born right on main street."
The rangy, red-haired young man rolls his eyes, but doesn't object to the long, sandy-brown man's leaning as he keeps toying with the empty mug.
talk (nodding once) Alright, I-I'll see if I c-can get it d-done and uh, t-try to find your m-mind if I can i-in the evening.
At your table, you say in sirihish, nodding once:
"Alright, I-I'll see if I c-can get it d-done and uh, t-try to find your m-mind if I can i-in the evening."
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in southern-accented sirihish, to the red-eyed, raven-haired woman:
"I got no funny tattoos though on my hands, and some people say I'm a bit of an asshole. I'd say I fit in around here I think more so then any other place"
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in southern-accented sirihish, crossing a leg over a knee as she smiles to the black-haired, green-eyed man:
"I won't accept that as an answer. Please try again and give me a better one."
At your table, the broad, thick-limbed man says in southern-accented sirihish:
"Good, thanks."
The broad, thick-limbed man drinks ale from his tall ceramic mug.
The rangy, red-haired young man shifts to waggle his coppery eyebrows at the long, sandy-brown man.
The long, sandy-brown man returns the rangy, red-haired young man's eyebrow waggle with a few of his own, his expression chiseled in stone.
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in southern-accented sirihish, to the red-eyed, raven-haired woman, chuckling:
"I'm nakki born. I travel up north to luirs where i picked up the accent, didn't even notice I was still talking with it. "
At your table, you say in sirihish, nodding once:
"Y-you're very um, w-welcome..."
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in southern-accented sirihish, tilting her head curiously to the black-haired, green-eyed man:
"I see, so you kind of lied when I asked how far you've traveled, didn't you?"
The rangy, red-haired young man drops his gaze to his tall ceramic mug with a strangled cough.
At your table, the long, sandy-brown man says in southern-accented sirihish, rubbing at his neck:
"Must be some 'orrible branches up in Luir's."
The rangy, red-haired young man aims a swift kick at the long, sandy-brown man's barstool.
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in southern-accented sirihish, with a quirk of a grin:
"Last I heard, you didn't need to go up to Luirs to bag a scrab."
The long, sandy-brown man wobbles on his stool, steadying himself by grabbing on to a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in southern-accented sirihish, to the red-eyed, raven-haired woman:
"Hmmm. No not really lied, i gave you a more serious answer."
The rangy, red-haired young man innocently spins his tall ceramic mug around between his fingers.
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in southern-accented sirihish, raising her eyebrows, looking doubtful:
"You call that a serious answer?"
The broad, thick-limbed man puts his tall ceramic mug onto a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
The red-eyed, raven-haired woman scoffs in amusement.
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in southern-accented sirihish, to the red-eyed, raven-haired woman:
"You talk to anyone in luirs and they'll tell you they were born in the baileys. You talk to people in storm, they'll tell you their mother dropped them right outside the tavern"
The rangy, red-haired young man tosses his tall ceramic mug a couple inches from palm to palm as he listens with doubtful interest to the black-haired, green-eyed man's story.
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in southern-accented sirihish:
"In my case, I speak the talk, and got no tattoos in my hand. You got enough tribals around here anyways, you wouldn't even need to have spent some time in luirs to pick it up."
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in sirihish, nodding slightly to the black-haired, green-eyed man as she gestures to him:
"And what makes it right for you to say dubious things to a Corporal of His Arm. In the presence of her Recruits and Sergeant, from the very beginning?"
The figure in an inky-black, hooded sandcloth greatcloak sits quietly, frowning softly as his gaze scans the crowd.
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in sirihish, tapping the back of her palm:
"You don't need inks to be their spy."
Pushing up casually, the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman stands up from a rough sandstone table.
The sable-haired, jade-eyed soldier has arrived from the north.
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, to the red-eyed, raven-haired woman:
"Well I was chatting to you before and had a friendly chat, didn't think you were very serious this time."
The sable-haired, jade-eyed soldier walks east.
Idly walking over, the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman stands at a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
The long, sandy-brown man shifts in his seat, looking down a long, scarred bar of agafari wood to focus on the black-haired, green-eyed man.
Not salaciously this time, the rangy, red-haired young man lifts his eyebrows at the long, sandy-brown man and glances from him to the black-haired, green-eyed man and the red-eyed, raven-haired woman.
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in sirihish, cracking her knuckles:
"When a militia asks a question, it's always -safer- and -smarter- to answer their question seriously."
The sounds of a brawl echo through the room, fists thudding solidly against flesh until a victor is established.
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in sirihish, expelling a sigh as she looks over to the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman:
"What do you think, Sergeant?"
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish:
"Well but if you are asking me how far i travelled, when I was younger i used to head up to luirs with my family. Recently not so much, just head out the gate and play with scrab now and then."
At your table, the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman says in sirihish, moving along bar to stand near the black-haired, green-eyed man, speaking casually despite the situation:
"A pleasure t' meet you, asshat. Have we met? I'm Sergeant Crete, First a' th' Seventh, Jade Sabers Legion."
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, to the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman:
"No, don't think we've met, sergeant."
A dark-skinned human barkeep spits into a mug then begins to wipe it out with a dirty rag.
At your table, the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman says in sirihish, nodding lightly:
"Of course not, 'course not, because if we 'ad before y' wouldn't be walkin'. Lemme ask y' somethin', pal, do y' know exactly what th' purpose of th' Jade Sabers Legion is?"
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, shaking his head:
"I've no idea."
The red-eyed, raven-haired woman holds a thin smile as she casually bobs her leg, watching the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman and the black-haired, green-eyed man.
The rangy, red-haired young man slooowly turns his tall ceramic mug in a full vertical rotation between his fingers as he watches the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman and the black-haired, green-eyed man.
At your table, the long, sandy-brown man says in sirihish, turning to speak at the rangy, red-haired young man:
"Ah, he's got no idea."
At your table, the rangy, red-haired young man says in sirihish, to the long, sandy-brown man, conversationally:
"That's unfortunate."
At your table, the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman says in sirihish, leaning in on a long, scarred bar of agafari wood, speaking conversationally:
"We defend th' city from th' Northern Barbarians and their spies. And right now we're in a time of war, which means we're on higher alert than normal."
The figure in an inky-black, hooded sandcloth greatcloak lifts his eyebrows slightly, listening to the conversation in silence.
At your table, the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman says in sirihish, with a very grim smile:
"And righ' now, at this bar, I don' see anyone quite as spyish as you are, my friend."
At your table, the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman says in sirihish, licking her lips, glancing over to the red-eyed, raven-haired woman:
"Corporal, please grab this man's wrist."
At your table, the black-haired, green-eyed man says in sirihish, sighing:
"That is unfortunate, though I'm poor as fuck and I don't even own a mount right now. You can check my stuff to see if I have anything a spy would have?"
At your table, the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman says in sirihish, nodding lightly:
"Oh, we will."
The black-haired, green-eyed man sighs as he raises his hands in complience.
At your table, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman says in sirihish, raising her eyebrows to the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman, though it's more played:
"We're -really- going to take a finger, Sergeant? "
The red-eyed, raven-haired woman reaches out and grabs wrist, nevertheless.
The long, sandy-brown man whispers something to the rangy, red-haired young man.
At your table, the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman says in sirihish, with a snort:
"Mmh, maybe. But fer now, we'll hold of. Grab him properly, le's take th' scum in fer a search."
At your table, the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman says in sirihish, glancing down the bar:
"Recruits, come along."
Shrugging, the red-eyed, raven-haired woman stands up from a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
The rangy, red-haired young man keeps passing his tall ceramic mug lightly back and forth between his hands, his body poised at the edge of his stool as he watches the red-eyed, raven-haired woman and the black-haired, green-eyed man.
Immediately, the long, sandy-brown man stands up from a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
The red-eyed, raven-haired woman subdues the black-haired, green-eyed man.
Promptly, the rangy, red-haired young man stands up from a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
Tossing it to the dark-skinned human barkeep, the rangy, red-haired young man discards his tall ceramic mug.
The tomboyish, one-eyed young woman pushes away from a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
The broad, thick-limbed man stands up from a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
The red-eyed, raven-haired woman says to the black-haired, green-eyed man, in sirihish:
"Don't fight and you might live."
The tomboyish, one-eyed young woman starts north with a stride, pushing through the gawking crowds.
Pushing the tarp away, the tomboyish, one-eyed young woman walks north.
The broad, thick-limbed man walks north.
The rangy, red-haired young man walks north.
The long, sandy-brown man walks north.
The red-eyed, raven-haired woman walks north, dragging the black-haired, green-eyed man behind her.
A dark-skinned human barkeep spits into a mug then begins to wipe it out with a dirty rag.
The figure in an inky-black, hooded sandcloth greatcloak blinks, looking northwards, then looses a cackle.
Slapping a gloved hand on a long, scarred bar of agafari wood, you say, in sirihish:
"W-welp, I got a feather to tend to."
You stand up from a long, scarred bar of agafari wood.
