Storytime at the Ox (Meetup)
MEETUP: STORYTIME AT THE OX Description: Shivani organizes a storytelling contest at the bar least suited for such an event, but everyone has grand fun anyway. Rules: Minor skill test game. Each Tall Tale needed three poses/sections and a roll of Perform (Oratory), Bluff, Diplomacy, or Intimidate following a section. At the end totals were tallied and the highest score wins. Rolling a 1 immediately ends your story with a disastrous reaction from the crowd:
Winner: LORIK! Honorable mentions: Preston for rolling the best 1 ever.
The crash of a chair, a punch thrown in (mostly) jest, and a song drunkenly sung for the sailors lost in the Bay of Beyond, half way around the world. Ale spills, and meat and cheese fly from the kitchen, and as the noise escalates in the room, there's a stomp of feet on a table at the end of the room, boots jumping up and down and arms waving, as a Mul'niessa girl of no great height shouts at the top of her lungs in accented tradespeak.
"OKAY OKAY HULLO NEW FRIENDS AND ESPECIALLY THUNOS SHUT THE FHUZE UP!!!"
The sudden turn of heads and growling of expletives in her direction brings a quiet of sorts, and then an empty bottle slams into the wall next to her, showering glass to the floor. "Ey! Tuffos! Don't make me tell your two wives about your three girlfriends!!"
This, indeed, quiets Tuffos.
"Alright then you salty dogs and dogly salts, today is a very important tradition among my people, it is about sharing stories and I know none of you can read too well so this is the best entertainment we can get." Of course, among this rowdy crew, tall tales are all the rave, and so while telling tales might not seem the most natural fit for a place like this, in an odd way it's a cultural intersection of sorts, at least between the Mul, the sailors, the dockworkers, and whoever else want's to join. Or rather, it might be one, as long as the story is tailored to the crowd.
"Alright alright, one round of drinks on me, CHEAP STUFF ONLY! And then whoever has the best story? They get their drinks paid through the night! Also since I am roping this all together I will go first with my story which is really great, just wait and see."
It's here that Shiv waits for those who are going to listen to settle in, and those who might turn away to drown in drink to do that too, but mostly, she's waiting for that look in everyone's eyes, that look that says they want to be transported to another place and another time through the power of word alone.
--
Braith was settled into a corner. The dwarf raises a brow and while she doesn't feel like telling a story, she doesn't mind listening. She gets a refill on her tankard of the cheap stuff and settles in to listen.
--
To say that Preston Bayweather seems out of place in the Ox-Strength would be to take an understatement, to feed it lots of spinach, to train it in weight lifting, and then to cast Enlarge Person upon it.
His head follows the mostly-thrown-in-jest chair. He swallows just a bit, and he puts a big old smile on his face like, sure, having a chair thrown in his vicinity, //anywhere near his vicinity//, is something that has happened to him before. But.
There are reasons to smile, after all. Being in the //vicinity// of a round of drinks that's being bought isn't the worst thing that could have happened to him all day either.
He sits in the back, in the put-your-back-against-the-wall back, in the I-can-keep-track-of-my-purse-better-here back. The this-is-my-life now, back. And while he doesn't exactly step forward to tell a story or anything, he looks intrigued enough to listen himself.
--
There are people who belong in the Ox-Strength. There are people who do not belong.
And then, there are the people who are neither, but nobody will ever tell them to not be where they want to be. So it happens, that among the stained and smoky rafters of Alexandria's most infamous dive, a masked Veyshanti woman lounges among what looks for all the world like a hammock made of some dark, fibrous material. The faceless ivory curve of her mask is oriented upon the floor, a carved, serrated fang turning over and over in her hands. Someone, it seems, is looking *forward* to storytime, and the resounding silence seems to be getting on her nerves.
--
Lorik has a pair of books tucked under one arm as he opens the door and pushes into the tavern in search of Shivani...and is imeadeatly assaulted by noise and shouting. For a moment he thinks that a second barfight must have broken out, but then he realizes that its only his cousin being...his cousin. There is a sigh, a amused one, as he shuts the door behind him. Weaving his way though the crowd with the grace of a man that has lived in his city most of his life.
There is a flash of a smile as he finds a table, slipping his book to lie against the wood and peering about at the patrons tonight.
The one with the mask stands out and he blinks a few times in her direction before shaking his head slightly and glancing up at Shivani. "Isn't this the extra-points-for-scary-stories month or is that later on?" He asks Shiv as he takes his chair.
There is of course no such thing, but of course making things like this up is entirely in the spirit of the moment.
--
Seated near the hearth a dawn elf seemingly exists beyond the cacophony or, at the very least, is simultaneously unbothered but also not a participant in the jubilation. A tankard sits at his right hand while in front of the immortal is a wooden bowl which appears to have been filled with a concoction of broth, meat, and day-old bread - this evening's stew. The sudden interjection harvest's his attention from his meal as he places the iron spoon upon the table and gives the commotion as bemused expression.
"Once," he asserts himself, "eons ago when the world was newly forged and the first of my kin walked the world the gods would oftentimes look down upon all that they had created and marvel upon the splendors of existence."
"This day it was Dana," he recalls, "and Ceinara whom watched a traveler as he ventured down the road."
The dawn elf shifts to stand sliding between chair and table without disturbing either, "Dana, mother of the Earth, boasted of her great strength. While her very daughter Ceinara, patron of the arts, stated that expression would evermore be greater than power."
"A contest," the elf begins forward, "they agreed; For in those times the gods did often test themselves against their new world." He pauses there lifting his chin, "Let us see, they decided, whom can remove the travelers coat."
"And so Dana summoned the winds which blew so hard the birds clung to the trees. The world was filled with dust and leaves but the harder the wind blew and the colder the world became," Kaelthilas mimes pulling a wrap snuggly across his frame, "the tighter he clung to his coat."
"At long last Dana relented."
"For the sun to then rise. Banishing the cold. Brighter and brighter the passion of Ceinara became until the traveler felt so hot that he began to unbutton his cold," the dawn elf's nimble fingers work at invisible buttons, "until soon he sought a shady spot and removed his jacket altogether."
"And so Dana looked to her daughter and asked: How did you do that?"
"To which Ceinara replied: It was easy. Patience. Gentleness and persuasion shall eventually always overcome violence and force." Hands falling to his side the elf gives them a wry smile and then returns to his seat. (Kaelthilas)
--
There is a long stare at Kael from literally everyone in the room. Really, Shiv is the sort who would normally revel in such a tale. But SHE SAID SHE WAS GOING FIRST! THe bag of slugs flies across the room, splattering at a table nearby Kael and flinging slimey little creatures in his direction. Bits of refuse and cheese and meat follow from all around, and shouts and laughs fill the room.
At the very least, Kael broke the ice.
"Right right! Time for a real story!"
The Mul slides down to perch on the edge of the table, angling her narrow behind so that her legs can dangle as she leans forward with a wild glimmer in her eyes. "Maybe you expect a story of my people, a story of the world where there is no sky, and only a cavern ceiling. The story of Quildanir the Unbroken? The story of Colfigor, Brute of Taara? These are all things, sure and true, that would drive you to gulp your drink and hope for dreamless sleep. But tonight I come to you with a different tale. This is a tale not of my people, but a tale from before my people made their home in the ground. Way back, to when the Khazad had no cities, but instead lived on great city ships that cut through rock and slithered through tunnels like great serpents of the ground always moving, always exploring. Forever it went on like this, with great underground ships and all Khazad living on them as they wound through the ground. At least, always like this until King Khazzul reached his five hundredth name day. For this day, his last he thought he might see, he wished only one thing. With crazy eyes he showed his scrawlings of the Ground Wyrm, Teuna Vor. He wanted the City Ships harpoons upon her, and to wear her scales on his mantle."
Her eyes go wide and her hands go up, and her voice strains with exasperation. "But even Korzhul, the King's first son and most trusted engineer, could not find a way to catch the great serpent. For all his father wanted before he passed to the great beyond was a scale of that great creature, he could not give it. But the King told his son to go into the vault, a vault he was told never to go to. He was told to get the Corestone, the heart of the demon who first set the Khazad on their nomadic path, burrowing through the world in every which direction. At this, Korzhul said, NO NO, we must not father! It is to dangerous, and all this, just to spear some great serpent? It is madness!"
Here Shiv leans back, giving some weight to the King's mad plan and the son's concern.
GAME: Shivani rolls intimidate: (6)+8: 14
--
Stories! Excellent. The hammock supporting the witch in the rafters writhes subtly, and the witch herself leans over the edge to listen more closely.
--
Braith finishes off the tankard she currently has and does settle back to listen to the tales being woven. The dwarf plays with a couple of her braids before she decides to get another tankard. Listening of course is very thirsty work.
--
Lorik sits back to listen, though Kael's story does draw his attention. The story is a fine one, and Lorik's eyes open wide. He follows it quite well and /would/ have complimented the bright elf lord by the fire...
...if everyone in the Tavern didn't disagree with his evaluation of the story.
He just slumps down in his chair as slugs and other missiles are flung in Kael's direction. Wincing slightly even as he turns his attention to Shiv and her story.
"I suppose I can take next? If no one objects?" The shadow elf says as he settles back to listen to Shiv's finish.
--
The poor dawn elf. The moment of smug satisfaction is taken from him by the onslaught of slugs and cheese. Lips purse and gloved hands gently dusts splatters of both from the front of his person. Stock still he eyes the crowd a moment his intimidate DC greater than the jeers which are thrown at him and seems to sigh before returning to his seat. He resumes his meal though does watch the rest of the storytellers with interest.
--
Ga'Elian wanders into the Ox, and looks around. Recognizing only Lorik and Shivani, he approaches them and quietly says, "Crowded this evening. Mind if I join you?"r
--
Of course, Shiv heard Lorik's question, and she throws him a wink, but is far to into the story to go back now. There's a slow lean and her white brows wiggle and rise, as her tale of the Dwarf King and his mad quest to capture a Serpent Wyrm continues. "In the end, the King's madness was matched by the Khazad Court's intrigue. You see, on these big underground city ship things these Khazad moved around in, there was nothing to do! It is well known as the reason that Khazad are all very grumpy and blame Mul like me for everything."
This draws another bottle in her direction, from an old Khazad who laughs at her absurd story! It smashes into the wall behind her and she points with accusation! "See!! They are so angry man it's freaky. But anyway, the son did what he had to, his voice drowned away by all these other Khazad who wanted to go fast and see this serpent thing and see the King happy. So he gets this Corestone thing and using his engineering know-how, he makes this new sort of engine. Not one that chews through the ground, but one that lets them pass through it as if they were PART of it. Soon they find the trail of the serpent, the winding pathways where it could be no other creature! Soon they'e on the trail, and the Khazad court is so happy man, like over the.. rock, or some shuzz. But then there is a problem, you know, the ship begins to slow down. So the King goes down to his son and demands to know: What has happened? They are so close! But it is not his fault, his Son points at the Corestone and tells his father it does not wish to work anymore. I mean just like that they could be sitting dead in the rocks, you know? So the King in his fury smacks his son across the mouth. BOOM!! Blood sprays and flys everywhere, and the son is shocked, but not because his dad hit him, because this is how Khazads sometimes say hello, but because the Corestone has flared to life when the blood hits it! Once again it is moving the ship, but only for a tiny little while."
Her eyes wide, she leans back a little, hands raising as if to quiet murmurs. "That is when the King told his son to do more unthinkable things. You see, to keep up the pace, they must give the Corestone blood. And you know, they have plenty of blood because they have plenty of Khazad. First, they start with the criminals because, well they are criminals so who cares. WOOSH, in they go, all kinds of grinding and bone sounds and blragharalahgag and yelling and screaming and such." Shiv, for her part, looks like the thought of such a thing would have her in stitches.
"Then of course, they throw in the lower engineers because, you know, they have a magical engine now, don't need none of those. Closer and closer they get until the spotters say they can see the serpent. They fire harpoons and try to get close enough to ram it, but they need MORE SPEED!"
GAME: Shivani rolls bluff: (19)+8: 27
--
An interesting story, to be certain! Still more interested, Alba leeeeans further over the side of her hammock, vastly farther than any rational person should be able to... and yet in all defiance of gravity, she manages to stay parallel to the ground, far up among the rafters. How will this story end?
--
Lorik is happy to sit back to listen to this story. He's heard this one before, but Shivani is telling it well. The pauses are perfect the gestures are just right. Shivani is on her game tonight.
However he sits back, to wait for the end of it all. Waiting patiently on his turn before he lets his eyes be drawn up towards the rafters and...
...and the lady floating there. He stares up at her in suprise for a moment as she defies gravity like she does. Eyes wide and staring as he does.
--
Preston has been listening closely. He rather liked the story about the cold wind versus the warm one, though his eyes had widened when things had been //thrown// in response. Gracious.
Judging by his look though, he's a little perplexed, or perhaps just a little //concerned//, by the content of this latest one. But he listens politely all the same. It's good entertainment all around, and he's starting to relax. He nurses that drink, his eyes casting over the rest of the patrons with his own brand of thoughtful curiosity.
--
Perhaps not so shockingly, the tale turning to bloodshed and madness seems to enthrall this log a little more than Kael's very nice, very proper story with it's morals and whatnot. Wherever this story is going, it seems to be more to the liking of some of the crowd, though a few Khazad seem quite skeptical of how true it all might be. Finally, Shivani leaps up onto the table, projecting her voice to the very back of the room.
"You see this makes the King even more angry, and he throws people in by the dozens. The hundreds. His son had all but given up on his father so he was not there as the King forced them in by troves. The Corestone swelled with power and finally the son returned to his father when he could not find his wife or children. In fact, he could almost find no one at all, other than the useless Court who surrounded the King and told him how worthy their quest was! It was then the King told them that the stone needed more, and so he had given it! Yes, his own daughter in law, his own grandchildren! Whatever it needed! He showed the pulsing Corestone to his son, who looked on in terror as their city ship flew through rock as if passing through air. The court had moved in to the engine room to be with the king, and they laughed and played and sang songs as all of the city was put to death in their cause. But the Son knew the truth of it, even in his anguish. No blood would satisfy the Corestone like the blood of the man who had torn it from the Demon's chest."
With a sudden motion she draws her sword, and with a spin, she gives a cut that lodges it into the table at her feet. "So the Son, in his grief, gave the Corestone exactly what it wanted. His axe was not much of an axe, but more like a great big wrench because he was an engineer, you know? And so it split the back of that fookin King's head like a melon and he tumbled into the Demonstone and WOOSH! Blood flying everywhere and screaming from the court, but not because their King was dead. No no no no, but because the Demoncore had sped up so much that they were suddenly EVERYWHERE! Bodies melded with stone and spirits torn from flesh and bone and stretched everywhere, forever and ever, unable to die or do anything but scream and scream and scream forever and ever!! And you know, its because of this thing that Khazad finally decided to settle down and have cities. But every once and awhile, the ground would rumble and shake, and the Khazad would know this was the old King's crazy ship and his court of screaming fools rumbling by on their forever-journey."
This done, she drops from the table, and leans in as the gathered crowd looks to one another. "So it just goes to show, no matter how tasty the Teuna, don't go overboard trying to catch it."
GAME: Shivani rolls bluff: (3)+8: 11
--
....Well *that* was a somewhat unexpected ending. From the rafters, the mask tilts to one side, then the other, considering this. Then, with the care and precision of an artificer placing cogs the size of a bit of gravel, Alba extends one hand, letting the carved, ink-stained fang fall to *thunk* into the tabletop, next to the sword.
Apparently the witch approves?
--
Truth is subjective in a story like this. Truth is entirely in the ear of the listener. Khazad can still enjoy the story and know entirely that it isn't to be trusted to be entirely truth.
Lorik though smiles as it comes to an end. A shake of his head as the story comes to its bloody end of madness and screams. The inquisitor simply sits back as he sees just what kind of response there is to a story such as this. It gives him a good idea of the type of story.
Though the thunk of the ink-marked fang into the table does cause him to jump again and he looks once more at the woman in the rafters. "...is...that normal around here?" He murmurs softly as he peers towards the witch.
--
The Mul who was telling the story seems to hold her breath as the crowd wavers, as if undecided. But really, it was the 'Teuna' joke that related the story to these, a bunch of men with salt in their blood. They laugh and carry on, and give a hearty call for another round.
With a spring in her step, Shivani whirls, reaching out for her weapon to pluck it from the table, only to find a fang dropping in just next to it. It makes her jump, forces her to look up with wide eyes, and finally she calls to the witch.
"Thank you but I am only accepting monies and drinks and maybe slugs for my tale!"
Then she skips past Lorik and tags him in, right on the sholder, before landing butt-first in a seat that skids wildly across the floor - and right next to Preston. Here she throws an arm around the young man, and beams over and up at him. "Oh hullo there new friend, wait until you hear this, my cousin is going to tell a story that is going to be so very great, you'll see! NO PRESSURE LORIK!!"
--
Astaren is making his way in, nose deep in a book and almost running into half a dozen patrons. He is reading a letter in his other other, "Wait.. I have to take an apprentice?" Squinting, "Madame Gelfure's orders... fine print." sighing as he puts it away and walks into another. Glancing up, "Pardon... err where am I?"
--
Shiv suddenly has an arm around his shoulders. Preston's blue eyes widen, and he says something eloquent. "Er!"
But he recovers quickly, and gives her an amiable smile. "Your own story was quite lively," he says, by way of compliment. "It is always a fine thing, to see the teller of a tale having so much fun. I shall look forward to hearing your cousin Lorik's follow-up, then. And. What a pleasure to meet you, Miss."
See? He can recover even here. It's fine.
--
Lorik just gives Shiv a /look/. Then sighs and shakes his head. He stands, tilting his head to one side to look towards the room judging the feel of the people, and twitching a smile up towards the rest of the room and Shiv's new friend.
"You're in the Ox," He calls towards Astaren at the door. "In the middle of a story contest! Come and join us!"
The young inquisitor clears his throat before he raises his voice.
He thankfully has a good voice. Which is a bonus.
"I bring you a story of Matheric and Valmiera! Not something as ancient as my cousin's, but still old. A story of love, betrayal, magic and mystery!" He warms up the crowd as he goes, smiling and looking around. His voice raising and falling as he sweeps his gaze around the room.
"It starts in ancient times deep in the primal caverns and forests of the world. Even then there were mighty kingdoms that raised their glories above the rest of the people. Great knights who lorded themselves over all and sundry, dressed in bright armor and keen lances. They went on quests that shook the world to its roots!"
He pauses for a moment.
"But, this story isn't about any of them. Because everyone has heard stories about them. No, this one is about Matheric the Bard. A simple man who made his own way in the world, who spun stories with his own hands and...when the occasion was upon him...made light of those brightly clad figures on horseback. Because lets face it, someone must. Right?"
A flash of a wicked grin.
"Humility /is/ supposed to be a virtue after all!"
GAME: Lorik rolls bluff: (15)+8: 23
--
Astaren has a deer in headlights like look at the story contest, "Uhh..." glancing around and finding a table he can sit down at and hide behind.
--
"Oh no, my name is not Miss. It is 'Shiv'. Also WOOOO! Tell it like you mean it, Lorik! Humiliation is a great virtue!" Wait, what?
Shivani waves over a pair of ales for herself and Preston, her very new best friend, and then she clanks her own against his drink and begins to down it. "Oh shuzz it tastes of stale everything, it is glorious!"
Then her feet go up on the table and she sinks into her chair, buddy buddy with this, a total stranger. Sure, this is fine!
--
Oh, second drink. Okay. Preston is good with this. He clinks this drink with her and lets her get buddy buddy, because every drink he's bought is not making a dent in his dwindling //purse//, and he's good with that. He'd thank her, and maybe he even did. His mouth moves a little bit, but the crowd is roaring, she is roaring, stories are being told. It gets a little lost.
"Come now it can't be that bad," he begins, when she says it tastes of stale everything. And then he actually tastes this one, not the same one he had before at all, and he gets a startled look on his face.
"Oh. Goodness me. No. No it definitely tastes like stale everything. What a singular talent."
But then...free ale is free ale. He actually ventures another quick sip.
--
Astaren orders himself a cup of hot water, which gets him a odd look. Once he gets his water he finds out it is nearly ice gold and sighs. A few snaps of his fingers and he starts to magically heat up the water. Glancing around as he pulls out some tea packets, "So... stories?"
--
"Ohm Shuzz, that is crazy." This, Shivani remarks, to the man who ordered water, and is now heating it up. "Ey! Get that man a whiskey, and also for me and my friend. Wait.. what is your name?" This she says to the man she has an arm around, shaking him a little as she finishes off her ale and lets out a belch for the century.
The whiskey arrives in shor torder. One for Astaren, one for Shivani, one for Preston. Hell, even one for Lorik, you know. So he doesn't get a dry throat while telling his story!
--
"Preston Bayweather, at your service," Preston says to Shiv. Oh. Oh my. Now she's getting whiskey. He hesitates. What does the whiskey taste like if the ale is that bad? Then again, it might burn the taste of the ale out of his mouth. Also. Free. Also. Things to drown. He has some. So he knocks it back, full stop, just like any seasoned drinker here at the bar.
"Oh! Now that one was rather good. My thanks for the drinks, my new friend."
With his red-tipped nose and flushed cheeks, he is definitely getting far more gregarious than when he came in here and found his table at the very back. Slipping right into the atmosphere! Fitting in more by the moment! Huzzah!
--
Astaren peers at the Whiskey, then lights up, "Oh thank you!" Pulling out a small metal bowl, pouring the whiskey in it, the ligthning it on fire. "That will help me heat up my water for my tea much easier, how thoughtful." Offering a smile over to Shivani. "Astaren, the Dreamer, at your service."
--
Lorik lets the laughter die down before his voice drops into a cadence as he continues his story.
"Now Matheric was a traveler far and wide. From kingdom to kingdom he went plying his trade. In his travels he heard of a kingdom in distress! Its king sad and in dispair. Heroes from miles around traveled to the rescue of this king. Shinging knights on horseback. Mighty wizards holding uncomprehend able magics. They all passed Matheric in his simple clothes with his lute on the way. They looked down on him, even though he smiled as he traveled. Whistling a tuneless tune as he went."
There is a flash of a smile.
"The heroes gathered, Matheric among them to hear the tale of the king. A mighty drake had stolen his queen years ago and sobbingly the king begged for assistance. They stepped forwards to make their proclimations. How they would slay the dragon and bring home his queen."
There is a slight smirk from Lorik.
"Matheric's vow was less grandiose than others. He had seen though the kings words," His voice lowers, telling his audience a secret. "The king was hiding something. A light of greed was in the king's eyes and none but Matheric saw it. The rest too blinded by thoughts of their own glories."
A flash of a grin. "So the party rode out for the dragon's castle. Matheric's mind wondering just what the king was hiding, so in the dead of night he rode ahead to the dragon's castle."
He falls silent for a moment, waitiing a heartbeat.
"There the dragon /appeared/!" And with a twist of a hand light bursts into being around his fist. Shining bright in the tavern. A simple cantrip to add to the story.
"Mighty and beautiful and terrible all at once! It caught Matheric in one massive claw. Demanding to know why he was tresspassing."
And a flash of a grin.
"And the bard, having few other options, told them."
GAME: Lorik rolls bluff: (18)+8: 26
--
Kaydin enters the bar and moves around a little, ordering some food, and he looks around for any familiar faces. He brings his plate of ribs down over towards Shivani and Lorik and Preston, smiling. "Hey folks." He says as he watches the group. "Is it story time?"
--
"WAS HE TRESSPASSING BECAUSE HE LOST SOMETHING?" Her hands cup her mouth, and of course Shiv taunts her cousin as she begins to drink and drink. "WAS IT HIS UNDERWEAR?!"
Yep.
Then she sees that whiskey burning, eyes going wide and her head shaking. "OH MY SHUZZ. You know Preston it is very good to meet you and I am glad you are hanging out with me because some of these people are so weird."
When Kaydin asks if it's storytime her wide eyes slowly tick over to him, and she raises her voice. "WHAT YOU THINK LORIK IS DOING, HE IS SHIT AT MAGIC!! HE ISNT UP THERE FOR MAGIC!! SIT AND DRINK FIRST ONE IS ON ME!"
Of course, chastising someone for interrupting when she's happy to interrupt is hypocrisy of the highest order.
So she makes the drink she orders for Kaydin a double.
--
Astaren has his hot water and puts in a tea packet. A few minutes later as Lorik finishes up his section he takes a sip of his tea, "Ahh there we go." pushing the remaining whiskey aside. "You know dragons stealing queens and maidens is all myth right?" tilting his head to the side, "I mean if the queen had some jewelery sure, but then the queen would be nothing more then a snack right?" clearly confused by the story so far.
--
Kaydin sits with Shivani and offers her a rib. He then turns to look to Astaren. "Have you ever seen a dragon?" Kaydin asks curiously before turning his attention back to Lorik and the story, nibbling on a rib as he watches the man.
--
Astaren eyes Kaydin and smiles, "oh actually yes, three. Though the most interesting to date was the ancient bronze dragon that had us do a illusion dance party."
--
Karelin comes in through the door, wrapped in a coat and looking a little older, worn. He closes the door behind him, and scans the room. Smiling at something or another, he crosses to order a whiskey.
--
"I have," says a sullen voice behind and between Kaydin and Shivani. The witch in the rafters, now dangling upside-down by her hair -- black, fibrous, and twitching on its own, apparently her hair was the hammock she was lazing in before. Lovely -- and for a moment at least well within both spectators' personal bubbles.
Then the hair lets go of the rafters, and the witch turns a lazy half-somersault, drifting toward a stool nearby that hadn't been empty before she started moving for it, but certainly is now.
"Dragons are an irritation of the highest order; bow and scrape to thm as you would a king, else the last thing you see be the inside off its gullet. Tchah. One day I will learn what makes a dragon quake in terror."
--
Karelin sips his whiskey, and murmurs "I do," to Alba's promise. Leaning back with a wince and a sigh, he enjoys the burn and settles in.
--
Astaren glances up to the witch and smiles, "long time no see my friend, any good dreams lately? As for dragons, depends on which ones you meet. some can be very cordial and friendly, only expected to be shown respect. I would love to meet the bronze again someday, but I suspect he doesn't like me. The whole dance thing threw me for a loop and made me very grumpy."
--
Of course the Creepy Hair Trick draws Shivani's attention, wide eyes cast upward to listen to her blurb about dragons. It makes her think, makes her draw inward. She might even miss a little of Lorik's story.
"Oh I KNOW. A dragon would be afraid of like a really big slug, maybe one twice it's size, you know?"
For Shivani, slugs hold the truth in everything.
--
Lorik soldiers on despite the heckling. He's used to it from Shiv really. The shadow elf grins as the light fades from his hand, eyes flickering across the people there as the crowd seems to hang on his every word. Those golden eyes flicker towards Alba as she decends from the rafters, eyes wide for a moment before he tries to focus once more on his story.
"Then and there the bard thought he was at the end of his days. The dragon glowered as the story of the sad king spewed forth and the dragon began to look more and more irate. It was then that the good Bard noticed the color of the sunlight coming from the the scales of the great beast was silver, not red as the king had said."
Lorik shakes his head.
"The king had told them to attack at sunset, thinking to trick the heroes into slaying a dragon of bright silver instead of fearsome red. So now curious, and fairly sure the dragon was going to let him live, the Bard asked the great wyrm just what had happened to make the king play false to so many."
There is a great sigh from the shadow elf as he shakes his head.
"Greed played the king false, he coveted the dragon's lands, the dragon's treasure and schemed to take them by force when he could not convince the wyrm to give them freely. Matheric frowned as he was told this, but then and there he hit upon a plan and the dragon, Valmiera by name, threw her own powers in to make fools of the false king and his lackies."
A flash of a grin.
"When the other heroes arrived arrayed for battle the Bard took the lead, having snuck back into the encampment at night. He touted the power of his enchanted bow and arrow to slay the dragon in a single shot and all the others scoffed at him. After all, what Bard could be so powerful. To proof himself he asked to be allowed the first attack, and when the dragon appeared in all her fury he struck."
There is a pantomime of a bow being drawn and fired.
"The arrow struck true, and the rest of the company were flabergasted as the arrow felled the mighty dragon in one shot. As promised." A wicked grin. "Now the Bard was a hero, the company having witnessed it and vouched for him when he recieved his reward. Greedily the King emptied his own coffers to the Bard, knowing that the dragon's horde would be enough to refill it. Generously he gave to the company of warriors as well, to compensate them for their vallor. Then, he set out for the dragon's lair. Eyes dancing with visions of gold."
There is a shake of his head.
"When he arrived there was no horde, no dragon, and no treasure. The trickster and the dragon having wove a web of illusion to deceive the watching eyes. Valmiera and the Bard had deprived the king of his own treasures, and gotten paid for it, as well as a reward for the valiant company that came with."
The smile is bright on the shadow elf's face.
"And Valmira and the Bard became traveling companions, and perhaps something more. But that is of course. Another tale entirely."
A laugh.
"The moral of the story? Of course it would be to always pay your debts, and never, ever, try to trick a trickster."
GAME: Lorik rolls bluff: (9)+8: 17
--
"Ah! Bravo, well done," Preston says, clapping to Lorik's story. He rather liked this one. And he is now drunk enough, see, to start being demonstrative in his appreciation instead of offering quiet smiles in corners. Maybe Shiv is rubbing off on him too, baffling as he finds this entire affair with the slugs.
--
Raethon claps as well, chuckling a bit. "Well done. Not all stories need to have a moral, but that one was well done."
--
As Lorik's story comes to a frenzied crescendo, he will have payment in the form of the look on her face, eyes lighting up, her cheeks turning a bit darker as the trick is revealed.
Shiv claps in a giddy bounce, pointing to CreepyHair and then to Lorik, and then shaking Preston again, before she rises to lead a cheer of those regulars who have hung on every word!
"LORIK THE LORESPINNER!! Buy him ale! Give to him your leftovers but only if they are good!!"
Then she scoops Preston up under his arms and gives him a flinging push towards the table turned stage.
"NEXT UP, PRESTON THE PRES..PRESS...SOMETHING! Tell us the tale of your people, and remember, don't mess up!"
Really though, no pressure.
--
Nim makes his way into the tavern, for once not making a loud entrance when he realizes that people actually telling stories! Almost like a little kid, his expression lights up with excitement at the prospect. He makes his way to the bar, ducking in and out of the crowd as necessary to keep disturbing anybody's enjoyment. It isn't very hard when you are as small and nimble as he is. Even though he just caught the end of the story, he claps his hands and shouts, "Hurray for Lorithithonk!" What? It's a difficult name. When he hears Shiv, he tries to catch her eye and offer an enthusiastic wave.
--
Karelin claps for Lorik, putting down his glass to do so. He gives it a good belting, then picks up his drink again, then gestures and has a drink sent over to Lorik, before settling in to listen some more.
--
Kaydin claps for Lorik and offers the man some of his ribs. He then turns his attention to preston and waits for the man to begin his story. For now he remains silent and eager to hear the tale.
--
"So and so and just so," Alba murmurs, bobbing her faceless face Raethon's way. "A story pleasantly told. Well met, Dreamer," she says after, leaning back and nodding Astaren's way. "The girl was shaken deeply by our adventures, but she now rests with her parents."
Drawing in a breath, she turns to stab a Look at the bartender. "Meat. Water." And none of your nonsense, the Look says. And as Alba waits for her order to be filled, she watches the half-sozzled Preston, curious to see what tale he intends to stumble through.
--
"Wait...what?"
Preston Bayweather's eyes go very wide as he's shoved towards the table. Oh. Oh my. That's quite the crowd. Um. Hello! Everyone!"
They're all staring at him. He draws himself up. Well he's up here now. Stiff upper lip and all! He can do this!
He strikes a pose. One arm up, with his hand out. He pauses. Adjusts. This is how theatrical people do it right? Storytellers? Lorik did not do this, nor anyone else, but...it seems to bolster him. He takes the stance of a True Thespian and Talespinner. And nods sharply.
"Right then! Once upon a time...well not really. This three years ago, but! His name was George and he was a student at the Academy where I studied my craft. This, my friends, is a story about alchemy, a gripping tail of numbers which were not carried properly, notes which scattered and! Unexpected results."
Gripping.
REALLY GRIPPING.
GAME: Preston rolls bluff: (1)+2: 3 (EPIC FAIL)
--
Poor, poor, poor Preston Bayweather. He doesn't get any farther in his story. No, not one bit. First comes a tomato, well, half of one. It powers right into poor Preston's face the moment he mentions numbers.
"Try carryin' this, ye tosser!"
More food comes his way, followed by bottles and all sorts of things. Shiv blinks slowly as the onslaught continues, and then she holds out her hand and completely envelops the poor man in a globe of darkness.
She meant to help give him some cover but really it just means he gets to be in the dark while he's pelted with food.
"Alright! Alright, Lorik got us all pretty good, better than my Teuna story. All his drinks are on me! One more round for the house, and all of you shipping out tomorrow make sure you go kiss Mother Magda on the cheek on your way out, she will be serving some breakfast up down the street."
With that Shiv rushes over to where Preston is.. maybe. The darkness will fall away, and she seeks to assess the condition of the man.
--
The condition of one Preston Bayweather is that he rather looks like he walked into the wrong bar, started to tell a terrible story, and then got himself pelted with rotten tomatoes, which is to say like a very poncy soup gone bad. In the dark, he ends up stumbling back, under a table, where he lays there with one arm flung up in front of his eyes and face. And another curled uselessly over his formerly-very-nice clothes.
He looks up at Shiv mournfully and takes a deep breath.
In true stiff upper lip fashion, "I take it...I lost. Unless I have wandered into a part of the world where that was just an expression of utter and complete, truly riveted excitement, in which case...I forfeit."
--
Lorik hops down, vacacating the stage to Preston as he grins at the applause and weaves his way though the crowd to take a seat near Shiv. Snagging one of Kaydin's offered ribs along the way. "Kaydin! Did you hear anything else about the lady that raises spiders?" He calls out towards the ranger as he takes a seat, waving to Nim as well as he thumps down.
His eyes scan the assembly there, curious just who is left after his long-winded story. At least most people enjoyed it. Even if the moral was predictible.
But then Preston is starting his story and he settles down to listen...
...until he winces.
"Oh dear."
A longer pause.
"Oh. Dear."
Shiv rushes over to help him up and Lorik calls up. "Lets go with forfit, it sounds better?"
-
Raethon takes a deep breath and sighs. "It was a good effort apparently." he says before he stands up, just after the last piece of rotten fruit had been thrown and walks over towards Preston. "Come on. Up you get." He says gently lifting the beleagered Preston to his feet.....with a glare out to the rest of the room....almost daring them to throw another piece of fruit....or anything else his way.
--
Karelin sips his whiskey, turning away from the stage. He orders another, and informs the bartender. "He is, at least, good for business." Then he turns, "Or you could just keep going! Nothing good ever came from stopping at the first sign of adversity!" He might be underplaying this a little.
--
Offered a hand by Raethon, and a little bit of face saving in the form of Lorik's 'forfeit' agreement, Preston offers a self-depricating smile. He takes the hand, and then Karelin is suggesting that he shouldn't stop at the first sign of adversity.
Well. Now he loses face if he doesn't...
"Quite right! And really, there was this truly fascinating moment where George crumbled up dried mugwort powder instead of dried mushroom powder...the results were simply..."
Someone stop this kid while he's ahead.
--
Nim's eyes Went wide and he hoppeds up onto a barstool. "No, stop he was...I mean it was...no! that's not...." Well might as well tell the tide not to roll in. Oh well. He tried, his expression seemed to say as he just watched the pelting happen. as long as there was no serious risk of injury! Oh! But there is the bartender and he has to order some ale. So while the situation is being better handled, he just sits back down and tries to get a drink. but when Preston continues, his attention goes back and forth between the storyteller and the crowd, trying to gauge whether there will be a new outbreak of a rotten food barrage.
--
With Raethon helping out (really, doing most of the work), Shiv helps Preston up, even reaching out to brush part of a tomato off of the young man before she reaches out to suddenly jam her hand over Preston's mouth, forcefully silencing him in the face of a renewed onslaught.
"WHAT HE MEANS TO SAY IS BLESSED LADY OF THE SEA BE WITH YOU ALL!"
This earns a round of cheers, and then she shakes her head slowly at Preston. While one would never say Shivani is a high thinking individual, low cunning and all the ways of the locals are her bread and butter.
She leans in close, whispering with wide eyes. "Do not lick my hand."
What?
"Then her hand drops away. Now be quiet pretty boy, or they will start throwing bottles. Drink more now, talk later!"
With Nim trying to paly the roll of distraction, or at least advocate for Preston, Shiv nods. And then to Lorik, a wince. Ah well.
"Alright, we will get some drinks to be going now... and very good night everyone!"
--
Karelin picks up his whiskey, and heads for the stage, sitting on the edge of it. "If anyone still wants a story while you drink your winnings away. I have one, even if it is more of a cautionary tale than entertainment."
--
Nim looks a touch disappointed that the storytelling is over. But he has a nice mug of ale and so he just takes a sip and settles in. When Karelin gets up, he offers a brief cheer, "Yes, more stories! Tell us one that doesn't result in throwing maybe..."
--
What began as a contest of stories in one of the roughest bars in town ended in a night filled with tall tales that went on into the early morning. New friends were made, new and interesting fruit projectiles discovered, and Lorik won the day with his tale of a bard and a dragon!