View source for RP: asking about an expedition


-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* A05: Ox-Strength Tavern *>--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

The worst sailors, mercenaries, thugs and dock-workers frequent this place, making it one of the most dangerous bars in the city. Its wooden floors and sturdy furniture are scarred from brawls, and the plaster on the walls is broken away in places from the brick underneath. Tucked against the large, steel diamond-pained windows are a few narrow booths providing a view of the street and all its traffic while letting smoky sunlight stream in and preventing patrons being thrown out through them. Little lamps hang from the cieling beams to provide light when the sun goes down.

At the back is a long bar of pitted, much-polished oak sitting beneath a bay of cuboards. Its here that the owner of the bar can usually be found operating the taps and fiddling with the large copper samovar on one end against the wall when she isn't out serving drinks and basically running the whole bar. There's even a few potted violets behind the bar in the open case where bottles are stored. There's a sign in chalk listing the house specialities, along with whatever will be being served for dinner that night. 

The food and drink here is good, despite the clientele's rough and frankly undesirable nature and the smell of pipe tobacco and beer that never seems to come out of the wood; the most popular thing being the curries redolent with spices and the hard ciders, both of which she makes herself in the kitchen. Part of the bar itself, it should be noted, bears the marks of electric damage, with spidery black burn marks radiating out from a charred spot right near the inner edge, where the 'tender stool is located. 

Over against one wall is a pot-bellied wood stove, with two much-abused leather chairs facing it. Near to that is a locked door that appears to lead to the owner's apartment above the Ox, while a pair of swinging doors at the end of the bar leads to the kitchen.                                

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Even if Elisabeth had discovered the posting from the Tribune, she likely would have gotten in touch with people from the Guild to help figure out where exactly in the Warehouse District Jokul usually makes his roost in. And so the explanation from people who know the Aesir wielding the oversized sword is as such; If he's in the city at all, he's *usually* causing trouble of some form or another at the Ox Strength Tavern.

And this particular establishment? Very well personifies the entire district-- there's always sounds of some rowdy proceedings echoing from within, shady people gather within along with mercenaries and sailors taking time off from their respective words. Full to the brim with rowdy, boisterous folk with very little regard for public property.

So this probably makes it come as no surprise that, once Elisabeth actually opens the door leading into the tavern, a loud CRASH echoes over the clamoring of the patrons, along with the sound of wood tearing itself apart while fragments of what used to be a chair fly into various different directions.

It's probably not that unusual of a sight-- at least not ones of this nature. Namely, some poor - likely intoxicated and now unconscious - sailor has been suplexed into and through a table. And the one responsible? The Aesir clad in dark colors pushing himself back onto his feet, steadily, post-suplex.

The act of money exchanging hands between various inviduals might be visible on the sidelines, too. Bar fights are a common thing to bet money on, here.


	Elizabeth enters, her helmet hanging from her belt, her shield carried instead of worn. Other than that, she's dressed as usual - in her armor. Letting the door swing closed behind her, she eyes the man on the floor as she makes her way over to where Jokul's getting to his feet, calling his name to get his attention. When she's got it, continuing to approach, she adds, "I hear tell you are putting together an expedition to the north?"


"Mr?" The reaction of Jokul is to twitch his head to the side, first, to send the glint of one green eye over his shoulder to the way of Elisabeth, mid-rise.

Once on his feet proper, he swipes his hands over his legs, briefly, and then his brows rise upwards over the woman's words. "I suppose that note didn't go entirely unnoticed then," he murmurs, while he turns towards the bar... where his trademark sword has been propped against the counter, too, incidentally. He gestures for her to follow, too. "Feeling like braving the frozen north then, are you? It's even further north than even any Stormgardian would usually go. Cold enough to turn your piss to ice before it hits the ground. ... And what with the frost giants and all, too."


	"The Shining Lord will keep me warm. Also, there is one with whom I've worked recently, a paladin of my own order, who is of the north herself. She might, likely, be amenable to joining such an expedition", Elisabeth says as she follows Jokul to the bar. Turning to the barkeep, she asks, "Have you any stew prepared?" When the 'tender nods in the affirmative, she adds, "I shall have a bowl of stew, then, please, and a mug of ale with it", as she lays coin on the bar.


Jokul gives the knight a vaguely suspicious look when she orders stew. He elects not to say anything, however.

Her mention of another northerner, however, causes him to wince faintly. He tries to hide it, perhaps, but it's not hard to pick up on, still, if one tends to psy attention to such things. "They are from Stormgarde?", he asks, just for confirmation, while he hands over some coin to the barkeep for his own share of ale.


	Elisabeth sets her shield down, leaned against the bar counter next to Jokul's sword, then pulls her helmet from where its hanging from her belt, to set atop the bar. "She is Aesir, so I would assume so", she replies. "How would this affect her being part of the expedition?", she wonders aloud.


"... I was just curious," he claims after a few seconds of contemplative silence. There is, perhaps, a good chance there is more to it, still.

"I can offer very little motivation for the expedition, however," Jokul goes on then, in an attempt to switch the topic quickly. "Beyond that of shared spoils of whatever treasure is found at the ruins we are seeking. ... And distinguishment in battle, if you are into that. Will your order be accepting of this? I do not know how the knights of the Dragon conduct themselves."

Oddly... It might seem there is something else he is leaving unsaid, about the purpose of the whole expedition.


	Elisabeth nods to the barkeep as her stew is delivered, followed by the ale for both herself and Jokul. "I am on my own recognizance, per the orders of the seniors of the Templars of the Holy Sword. While my directive has brought me to Alexandria, it does not prevent me from taking journeys from here to other places; as I see it, my directive is to use Alexandria as a base of operations for all I do, until the directive is changed", she explains. "I am unsure, however, regarding Lysa's directives for her presence here. I suppose that would need to be ascertained."


	It's a place filled with sailors and tradesmen. There's a young, petite woman at the bar. She's getting looked at, definitely... but she's talking to Jokul, who's already (probably more than just this once) proven his prowess to the Ox's other patrons. Despite the glances her way, because of Elisabeth's current company, no one seems looking to go over and bother her, as they otherwise might.


Normally Jokul might be among those sending looks, too, truth be told. But considering the nature of their conversation - and perhaps something else more solemn gnawing at the back of his mind currently - any looks he sends towards her now are purely professional. Even when the ale is brought to him, the way he sips of the drink is... much more restrained than might be considered the norm here. Or the norm for him, for htat matter, but that's not as obvious if one has never been drinking with him before.

"If you say so," he murmurs then, in a low rumble of a sound. "All I am saying is, there's no greater good behind this trip. Just... trying to get to some ruins, find what's in them, and bring them back..." He pauses there, for whatever reason, and scowls faintly. "... for profit." Those tow words, though? They're added there without much actual *purpose* behind them. Like they're an afterthought.


	Elisabeth nods. She doesn't immediately reply only because she's eating stew now, as well as holding a conversation. When her mouth is clear, though, she says, "In order to pursue the directive given to me, I need to pursue a broad range of experiences... and, frankly, simple self-maintenance is also a concern. Should any relics of a divine nature be located in those ruins, also, the church may be willing to give reward for their return, and my presence as a part of the expedition would help make that happen, wouldn't it?"


"I... suppose it is possible," Jokul murmurs on the matter of divine artifacts, though... for whatever reason, he seems.. .doubtful about that particular prospect, regardless.

"Either way, you and your friend should invest in some heavy protective clothing, perhaps. Like I said... even for Stormgarde, where we are going, it is going to be hellishly cold."


	"I'll need to speak with Lysa to see if she's willing and available for the journey", is Elisabeth's reply, "but it shouldn't be an issue to acquire suitable cold weather garments." She continues to eat, as well, after speaking.

    
"You will be welcome, then," Jokul offers -- and for most likely the first time since Elisabeth saw him for the first time, he smiles in a small, genuine manner, even if it is only for a fraction of a second, though. ... Albeit, there is perhaps some telltale hint of sadness hidden somewhere behind his eyes, too. "Just inform me when you know of her, so I know how many people I must charter an airship trip for. And... well..." He casts his eyes over their immediate surroundings. "... You can ask people from the Guild to deliver a message, too, if you prefer not to be in a place like this."


	Elisabeth shrugs at the mention of a place 'like this'. "I'd avoided the area before, to be honest. Also, while I thought that meeting you in person for this conversation had more merit than a simple missive, I had another motive for coming to seek you here: I'd heard that the Ox had the best stew and ale in the city", she says, and lifts her mug of ale as if in salute, with a glance to the bartender. "The rumors were not merely rumors, I've discovered. They are truth!", she says, with a smile.


	The woman bedecked as a knight came just to check out the stew and ale...? And she complimented it and even saluted the barkeep...? This makes the barkeep smile. Certainly, were she to come here alone in the future, the favor of the barkeep might help to keep 'the rabble' in line, even if Jokul's towering presence isn't at her side. Did she plan that, or was it just her being honest with her feelings?