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 Posted: Tue Apr 17, 2007 4:27 pm
“I never met her myself, actually,” Mal corrected. “I just know that Rem turns funny colors whenever she’s mentioned. It’s a fun game.”
“Hey, Mal, look! Iris left her drink unguarded!” Rem desperately tried to distract his friend by pointing out one of Mal’s favorite things: unwatched booze.
It worked too. For about five seconds, which is how long it took Mal to snag the drink and drain it. Luckily for Rem, this was enough time for the nobleman to explain his interactions with Nyhali. “She’s a friend of mine. We met a little while ago at a sort of gathering. It… didn’t end well..”
Mal snorted and pushed Iris’ empty glass away, a tad disappointed with the taste. Not that it was bad. It just simply wasn’t his type of drink. He took up his whiskey again soon enough. “Didn’t end well? Ha! Now there’s a euphemism for ya. It was a disaster. There was this… this… this thingie. It was like a giant black gryphon, only it exuded evil. It killed at least one gryphon, and hurt a few others...”
“Including Kedri and Mal’s gryphon, Aeron,” the blonde noble offered at this point.
Those words got a nod from Mal, a sort of sad and miserable nod. He gave his chair a half-hearted spin that failed to cheer him up. But, the thought of singing a few drinking songs did. “You know any good songs, Kaisa?” Hmm… just what kind of voice would Kaisa have anyway? Mal imagined it as a nice light tenor, much like himself. “And, trust me, you don’t want Rem to sing. I’ve heard him. It ain’t nice.”
“We can’t all be singers, Mal.”
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Posted: Fri Apr 20, 2007 4:41 am
Chade finished conversing with Trill, telling him of what he had seen an heard, though he had understood little of what the humans had said between them while conversing. Trill seemed contented by Chade's report and settled back on his haunches, relaxing. Chade was relieved. Sometimes Trill could be entirely too exciteable, the younger griffin had found.
His crimson gaze now turned to the other griffins around. One female, considerably larger than he, but not quite so large as Trill, it seemed, had regarded him briefly upon his arrival, but he knew better than to pay attention to the wishes of his adolescent mind, which quietly hoped that she was actually interested in him. Of course she wasn't. Likely, she was interested in Trill, who was the larger and stronger of the pair, and though not so clever as Chade, certainly intelligent enough.
He looked further and noticed a male, injured. What had passed, he wondered, that so many of the griffins present seemed battered? He almost asked, but he was no longer the youngster who had blithely run up to a racing griffin and practically compelled him to come to Silence's aid. Growing older had made him in some ways wiser, but it had inhibited him. He envied Trill's confidence and ease, and wished that he cut a more impressing figure, like Trill.
~+~+~+~
Trill, reassured of Silence's safety, followed Chade's example, studying their companions. Unlike Chade, who had become quite awkward around strangers of late, he held no reservations about approaching any of the other griffins present and inquiring as to the nature of their general condition of aching weariness. After looking about from a comfortable crouch he spotted one who looked as though she wished she could stop her ears with cotton or some such thing.
This may be a foolish question, he prefaced, but what has happened? Why do so many of you seem unwell? Is there plague?
In truth, he could see that it was not plague, but having spent most of his life in the Eyrie, where the plague was a nightmare and its effects were still visible, he was mildly phobic about contagion and illness. He knew he was lucky that his father had been born outside the Eyrie, where the plague had not struck, had never struck, and that his mother had survived the plague, for it seemed he would be more resistant to it, should that strain appear once more, but he dreaded the loss of his virility, particularly before he ever found a mate and fathered chicks of his own.
As he awaited her answer, he felt an urge to look over his shoulder, to where Chade and Meshach waited, but he resisted it. Chade may have been wiser when it came to dealing with humans, though Trill had no idea how he had grown so wise, having met so few humans, but it was Trill who was at ease among his own kind. Chade, when forced to interact with other griffins, was awkward at best, and his unusually feline grace abandoned him, leaving him looking like a large juvenile, rather than the small adolescent he was.
~+~+~+~
Meshach, observing that Trill was otherwise occupied, rose silently and slipped away, back into the tavern. He noticed that the establishment served mixed drinks and a slightly inhuman grin spread across his face. He seated himself at the bar a short distance from where two dizzy-looking young men seemed about to break into song.
Spare me, he thought with a quick glance skyward. He was hardly in the mood for the inebriated singers' efforts today.
That was all the attention he spared those three(?) before turning his mind to more important matters: when the bartender re-emerged from wherever he or she was, what would he order? His vast experience as a dragon had introduced him to a wide variety of drinks, both mixed and otherwise, but he had rarely been the one consuming them. As a dragon, there had been too much risk involved with drinking in a human form, for when he resumed his dragon form, the buzz would only intensify. Now, as a human being, he was free to indulge.
All the while, he kept what he thought was a discreet eye out for Silence.
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Posted: Sat Apr 21, 2007 7:17 pm
Iris sighed lightly and tossed her hair from her face as she returned to the Penguin. Or..well..she never really left, but once she saw a shadowy, familiar face peering through a window, she knew that it was time to excuse herself to the outside for a little while. After all - personal matters were best taken care of away from the presence of others, even if said matters really weren't all that secret. The idea of having Mal - or anyone, for that matter - question her for an hour over what she needed so many strange plants for wasn't too appealing. Sooo...she went outside, and now returned to the innards of the strangely-named bar with a smile.
...that is, until she saw her glass. Somehow, the fact that a new person had joined them at the bar, the random appearance of griffins inside the establishment, and any other new occurrences, didn't matter quite so much. Not now, anyway.
Those deep, dark eyes got just a biiit deeper and a biiit darker. Someone touched her drink. Lifting her chin a little, she peered at all of the possible suspects - Rem, Mal, and Kaisa. Nikki she wasn't concerned about. Hm. Kaisa she didn't know that well; he might have done it. Rem wouldn't have done it unless one of the others managed to trick him into doing so. Shane wasn't even there, so it wasn't her...
Her face calmed, and she put a smile on again.
The woman went to stand beside Mal, leaning on the bar with an exaggerated sigh. "Mal, I have a question," she started, smiling at him with eyes that purposefully betrayed her anger. Oh, she could have hid it completely, act as if she didn't even so much as notice (or care)...but Iris really didn't feel like letting that slide. She liked that particular drink quite a lot, and she wasn't in the mood to let someone else drink it.
Cocking her head a little, she let some of her irritation seep into that sweet, calm voice. "Where's my drink?"
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Elrok fluffed a little when Zephan said that Eranthe had mentioned him. So sweet, that one.
The male nodded, taking note out of the corner of his eye that new griffins had entered, and trilled lightly at the other griffin's response to his question about the monster. Tense? They all had been, it seemed. Iris didn't often let that be shown at any place other than her own home, but she tended to look around a bit more, look over her shoulder...ah, well. Such things came with threats that could not be ignored.
An ear flicked backwards as he heard someone inquire about their injuries. A plague? In this place? Not likely that such a thing would occur any time in the foreseeable future - birds could often sense the coming of illness, after all - so that was almost a silly question. Perhaps they were not from around this area, or maybe it really did seem (from the point of view of those who had neither been at nor heard of the events of that night) as if there was a plague of some sort. A good number of the griffins that Elrok saw since that night, after all, had been injured. Or he had at least seen them at the party. Oh well. The griffin who spoke the question had not been talking to him, so....
He turned his head to see Ma'at also watching the one who had asked the question. It seemed as if she would make an attempt to be social....perhaps she would. Lately, it had taken her just a little longer to decide that talking to others openly would be an ok thing to jump into. The female would do just that soon enough, probably. Maybe. Hopefully.
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Posted: Mon Apr 30, 2007 7:20 am
He took a few minutes to mull over what they'd said about the evil black griffon. Kedri got hurt? Myyyy Nyhali can't have been happy about that. "I'll have to go pay her a visit later..."
Kaisa grinned and waggled his eyebrows slightly. "Well, what songs I know depends on how drunk both I and the crowd get."
He watched amusedly as Mal stole Iris' drink, and then tried not to laugh when the lady in question came back in and gave Mal the sweet version of the "I'm gonna kill you" voice. He felt it was best if he stayed out of this one...
The newly arrived gentleman was hard to miss, especially with the way he kept discreetly looking around as if expecting someone to appear out of the woodwork or some such. My, but the early crowd here just got more and more interesting.
It took Tiamat a moment to realize 1) that she had been spoken to and 2) that she was going to have to answer, since no one else seemed so inclined. She was irritated more at the fact that she'd been asked about something she knew little about and that none of those around who knew better than she would answer than at the fact she'd been spoken to at all. Not that she felt particularly like conversing with these others, but she was well-mannered enough to speak when spoken to unless she was particularly irritated with someone.
"Not plague. I would not be here if there was plague. No, there was some sort of an attack at a gathering of the well-to-do of the city, and many of the griffons also thus gathered were apparently harmed. I have only come into the city this very morning, I know little more." She motioned her head toward Elrok, having noticed his obviously more knowledgable condition and response to the question. "If my intuition serves me, he would be the better party at which to direct your queery."
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Posted: Tue May 01, 2007 6:11 pm
“Hm?” Mal tilted his head to one side and looked curiously at Iris with an expression best described as, ‘me? Why, I wasn’t anywhere near the once-full-but-now-conspicuously-empty-glass’. It was pretty clear that he had plenty of practice at that particular look. It was also clear that he had lots of experience with the tone that Iris was now using. Chances are, this didn’t surprise anyone.
“Well, I’m not exactly sure, but my guess would be right where you left it, Iris,” turning around, he pointed at the empty glass before he blinked in theatrical surprise as if he had expected it to be full. Why, glasses were always full! The grin slid away from his face, replaced by a far more dour expression. “Do you know what this means, Iris?” Putting his hands on her shoulders, he shook her lightly. “Do you know what this means?!” Now there was a definite tone of desperation in his voice.
“It means…” he lowered his voice and put his face nearby hers. “No doubt, your drink has evolved into a higher life form and is now roaming the tavern in search of lower drinks to consume. One day soon, all of the city will be under the heel of your drink! Oh, the horrors!” he let go of her and collapsed into his spinny bar stool once more, one arm thrown over his eyes.
He held this pose for several seconds before nodding over towards the new guy who had wandered in. “So, how’s your day been?”
Rem’s shoulders shook with the effort of not laughing at Mal’s theatrics. When he wasn’t teasing the blonde noble, Mal was actually pretty decent company, if only for moments like this where he attempted to back out of trouble he had already gotten into. Not that it would work. Somehow, Rem doubted that Iris would forgive Mal for stealing her drink. And, no doubt, she had already figured out that he was the drink-thief. It really didn’t take a genius to figure it out: if there was an empty glass and Mal within a five mile radius, chances are he was the culprit.
Speaking of culprits… Rem eyed the newcomer a bit suspiciously. Just how many people came into a bar at this hour anyway? It was a bit early to start drinking… unless, apparently, you were Kaisa, Mal, or Iris.
…
Alright, so maybe it wasn’t that odd for people to start drinking early in the morning. Still, the newcomer had a sort of suspicious look about him, as he kept looking around, as if waiting for someone. Huh. How odd.
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Posted: Sat May 19, 2007 3:51 pm
I am SO sorry. Life got out of hand, and will probably stay so until after June 6th (Graduation), but I'll try to be on more than I have been. Sorry!!!Trill inclined his head in thanks. He did not seek more of an answer than that. In truth, he had only wanted to broach a topic of conversation. Any topic. Chade was being strange, and he had no desire to speak to the younger griffin at the moment.~+~+~+~
Meshach was still no closer to deciding upon a drink, and his indecision irritated him.Also, in case you didn't notice, I'm a bit distracted. Again, I'm sorry.
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Posted: Mon Jun 18, 2007 5:39 am
It was really too bad, Meshach felt, that just as he had decided he was going to get a nice, simple vodka, trouble had to come in the door. In this case, trouble took the form of an enormous man, built roughly like a mountain and with muscles bigger than most people's torsos. His face was scarred, with one particularly unattractive scar zig-zagging across his forehead and below his eye. Meshach couldn't help wondering how he had gotten that.
It was not, however, the man's size which concerned Meshach. It was the marking on his ancient armor and shield. The armor had to be at least a century old, if not older. And the crest was that of the noble house of Hugriet, a family which had been barely noble when the armor was made, and who had come to prominence only by their ability to slay dragons, which did not put them in good favor with Meshach at all, his past being what it was.
For an instant Meshach actually considered trying to flee, as the Hugriets had been really quite good at their chosen profession back in the day, but then he remembered that he was in a human form (how had he forgotten?) and therefore of no interest to the warrior who had just stepped in. If the Hugriets still went after dragons. They might have given it up after a friend of Meshach's crunched the head of the family about two hundred years ago. He couldn't believe the line still existed. Surely they had died out by now?
He turned back to the bar and looked around for the bartender he had seen earlier, but she was nowhere to be found. It took a great deal of effort for him to turn his back on someone from the family which had hunted dragons for so long and so effectively. But he kept reminding himself that he was human now, and of no interest to the Hugriet at the door.
Wrong.
The warrior in out of date armor swaggered across the floor, Meshach saw from the corner of his eye, and stood just behind Meshach. Why did they all have to swagger? Meshach wondered, and why did they always stand directly behind him, where he couldn't see them no matter what? He hated that. And, because he was in a public place and the other man was wearing armor, it would be a very bad idea to get into an altercation. So why did the Hugriet seem to want one?
The beefy man put a hand on Meshach's shoulder and spun him around on his stool. Meshach decided he hated spinning stools.
"You killed my many-greats grandfather. For that, I will have to kill you, dragon."
Meshach blinked. "I'm certain you have me mistaken for someone else. You see, I'm not a dragon, and I haven't killed anyone, and even if I had, it wouldn't have been your many-greats grandfather, because I'm not that old."
"I know about you. Your kind can shape-shift, and my family has drawings in its archives of you. We would curse your name if we knew it."
Meshach nodded, trying to keep his eyes from darting around. "Right. I can shape-shift. I really think you ought to see someone about these delusions of yours, and maybe get a life. Even if, let's pretend, I did kill your many-greats grandfather, don't you think it's time to let it go? It's got to have been years and years."
"No. I don't think that at all. Besides, even if I did it would make no difference because my family needs me to do this. I'm engaged to a lovely girl from a family more noble than mine, but she won't set the date until I have slain a dragon and brought her its head."
"And you think killing me will accomplish this? If you cut off my head it'll be a human head you bring back to your lady-love. I don't think she'll like that. And, to be honest, I don't think much of your affianced if she wants dead things as wedding gifts. It bespeaks a certain coarseness, and certainly a little bit of oddness about the brain area, don't you think?"
He was rambling, and he knew it, but he would really like someone to notice his predicament and do something about it, as he was in no position to do anything except try not to cower. It was a lot harder to be brave when mostly unarmed facing someone who was not only armed but armored and seven kinds of crazy.
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Posted: Tue Jun 19, 2007 3:42 pm
Mal tilted his head to one side and leaned back, enjoying the little show. Sure, he was slightly miffed that the stranger---the supposed ‘dragon’----had ignored his polite question, but the guy had bigger problems to deal with now. Much bigger, actually. Inwardly, Mal wondered just what the new man was compensating for. He could certainly come up with a few things. It was a great temptation to interfere, but he was bored; for now, he was content to watch.
About five seconds later, he came to a decision and jumped into a conversation that he had absolutely no business jumping into. “Alright, I’m bored. Why does he get to be the dragon anyway? Why can’t I be the dragon?”
Rem bit his tongue and refrained himself from saying something about fairies. Now that would jut be rude… besides, he didn’t want to get into a barfight, even if Mal seemed to be gunning for on.
“Shut up, Mal, and just watch the show. It’s obviously some sort of cabaret.”
“…don’t those involve women wearin’ feathers?” Mal asked, since he was only familiar with two types of floorshows, neither of which could be given a name so fancy that it didn’t pronounce all the letters.
This brought another sigh from Rem. “Shut up, Mal.” No wonder people around here drank so early in the morning; they had to deal with Malcolm!
But, alas, Mal being Mal, the dark-haired man was not so eager to give up some fun. Come on… it didn’t get any better than this. A large beefy idiot of a testosterone-fueled man coming in and demanding dead things? Hilarious.
“Actually, come to think of it, women don’t usually appreciate dead things. Believe me. I’ve tried. They usually like flowers or chocolates. Or shiny things. They really love shiny things. Did you ever consider that she’s puttin’ off the wedding because you give her dead things? If a man gave me dead things, I wouldn’t want to marry him either. Especially if he carries grudges. Just imagine what would happen to her if she doesn’t cook dinner on time or something! What will you do then? Give her head to your next wife?” Mal tilted his head to one side, grinning his little half smirk. Alright, now things were getting interesting…
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Posted: Wed Jun 20, 2007 6:37 am
Oh, was Mal talking to Meshach before? Didn't see that.
Meshach glanced over at the other man, Mal, who had insinuated himself into the confrontation. He seriously considered kissing him when all this was done, though the male sex was not his gender of choice when it came to kissing. He was that appreciative. He did not want his face pounded through the bar and his head then removed from his neck, and at the moment, those did seem to be his only options.
"I agree about the dead things," he said softly. Hissed was more like it. The warrior's grip on his collar was really a bit tight for comfort. Every time he brought something dead back for Silence she came up with another reason to be angry at him. She praised her griffins for it, though.
The Hugriet now wore a frown which bespoke utter befuddlement. Clearly the young man's rhetoric was too much for his muscle-bound brain to handle. His grip had even relaxed in his confusion, but the moment Meshach spoke up to agree with Mal he had been once more on his guard. Damn.
And, angered by the implied, no, direct, insult to both himself and his affianced, he shoved Meshach hard backward into the bar - almost over it, to be honest - and wheeled to turn on Mal.
"Who are you, little man, that you think you can talk about Lindabell? That you are rude enough to involve yourself in a duel of honor?"
Meshach coughed in disbelief. Honor? Where was the honor in attacking an unarmed man who was about to get drunk? He would have raised this point, too, had he not been hoping that the Hugriet's attention would remain on Mal long enough for him to find something to hit him over the head with. The hilt of his knife might do it. If he could get the helmet off him.
"I am Bilibaub Hugriet of the Hugriets of Northportlandshire, and you are now a sworn enemy," the Hugriet, Bilibaub, continued, drawing a sword and brandishing it menacingly.
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Posted: Wed Jun 20, 2007 3:21 pm
Rem sighed and decided to pretend that he had absolutely nothing to do with Mal at all. He merely happened to be coincidentally sitting next to him. Yep. Didn’t know him at all. He had a feeling that he should have been worried about Mal since the other man---self-proclaimed to be Bilibaub Hugriet---outweighed the short Cambrian by at least a hundred pounds and could probably crush him without trying… but, in fact, he was more worried about the over-armored idiot. Hopefully, if a fight broke out, Mal wouldn’t harm him too much.
“Mal doesn’t have any honor,” he pointed out helpfully, wondering if this would dissuade a fight at all.
Mal nodded, apparently not at all offended by this. “’S true. Lost that a long time ago. In a real fight, honor is a bit like a chocolate helmet: sticky, delicious, and distracting. By the way, the name’s Mal. ‘S always nice to know your sworn enemy’s name…”
Leaning back, he lifted his hands in the universal gesture for ‘hey, I’m not carrying a weapon’. “You know, I’m a tad allergic to sharp bits of metal next to my face…” actually, he privately thought that
Hugriet’s sword was more saw than sword. “Look, I don’t even know you; from where I come from, it’s considered rude to wave one’s sword in another man’s face unless they’re really close friends, if you catch my drift.” A few winks were in place at this point. He doubted that Hugriet would really get it, but it was fun anyway.
Actually… he probably ought to be worried about a fight. He hadn’t brought his rapier today because it seemed rude to bring a weapon like that to a bar. At least he had his daggers. Idiots in armor always thought they were invulnerable without considering the little spaces in between armor plates.
Turning to Mescach, Mal said conversationally, “Is it just me or is this guy tryin’ to compensate for something with that sword?”
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Posted: Thu Jun 21, 2007 5:17 am
Meshach decided to rethink his decision to kiss Mal. He had just drawn Bilibaub's attention back to Meshach. Though he found that he liked this Mal's sense of humor. Even if Bilibaub did not understand Mal's winking gibe, Meshach did and he couldn't repress a grin. Better, the situation seemed to be more under control now. He pretended to consider the question Mal posed as he sat on the bar.
"Definitely compensating," he decided. "Though whether it's a physical or mental deficiency is yet to be determined. Probably both."
Personally, he felt it was ridiculous that the Hugriet had declared Mal a sworn enemy without knowing his name, and ridiculous that the Hugriet had declared Mal a sworn enemy at all. He hardly seemed to be a resonable sort of person. But then, heavily armored, heavily armed people were rarely reasonable. That's why they tended to carry weapons. So they wouldn't have to reason.
He suggested this to Mal. In a polite voice which made it seem as though he were remarking upon the weather. Meanwhile, he took his long knive from its sheath at his hip and concealed it with the hilt in his hand and the blade flat against the bottom of his forearm. He had no intention of spilling blood in a public place, but he also had no intention of getting himself killed. He had lived for a very long time, and he had found that he was rather fond of the activity.
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Posted: Thu Jun 21, 2007 11:26 am
If Mal knew that he just lost a kiss, he… well, probably wouldn’t have cared that much. He might have bitched to Rem in private though, just because he liked seeing the noble blush. Blissfully unaware of what he had just lost, he listened to Meshach’s words and nodded in agreement. “Clearly, he’s got more metal than brains and reasonin’ capacity.”
He looked back over the bar quickly, just once, to see if the nice bar-woman was coming back yet; he wanted more free booze. But, alas, she was still gone with that other miss. Damn. Fighting was all very well, but there was no need to start a fight inside the bar; there was too much expensive glass and he rather liked the nice bar-woman, for she gave him free booze. Giving Mal alcohol was one of the best ways to win his friendship.
“Look, Sir Whatsyerface, if you wanna fight, go ahead outside; let’s settle this like men and not involve the nice bar-woman’s booze, I mean bar,” he said to the over-armored fool, waving one hand towards the door. By ‘settle this like men’, of course, Mal meant ‘one smart men fooling an idiot’. This involved getting the idiot to stand outside and stay there while the smart man stayed inside and drank happily.
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Posted: Thu Jun 21, 2007 12:00 pm
Bilibaub's face had turned an attractive shade of violet between Mal's gibes and Meshach's. This could be discerned through the open places in his helmet. Now he turned it in the direction of the door, following Mal's hand with his eyes. His eyes were both an unimpressive shade of blue.
"I think not. I have yet a score to settle with the dragon."
And it was going so well, Meshach thought regretfully.
"Could you settle it outside, maybe?" Meshach asked. "The bartender will not appreciate if we make a mess in here. She might even make you wash dishes if you get blood anywhere. Think how demeaning that might be to person of your stature. Particularly if you were to rust."
Remarkably, the second time it was suggested, the armored man nodded. Perhaps it was the threat of rusting.
"Fine. You go first." He nodded to Meshach.
"No way am I letting you walk behind me. You're carrying too much metal."
"I am a man of honor."
"That's really too bad. Honor is dreadfully overrated." This was a sentiment he had always felt deeply, both as a dragon and as a human.
"You go first."
"But, as you can see, I'm unarmed," Meshach said plaintively, turning his hands palms-up and spreading them wide. His knife, of course, was readily visible thus. He winced. "Except for that, of course."
"You...You...Crusty a**l pore! You lousy saddle-sniffer! You festering scrotum!" Bilibaub roared, raising his sword to decapitate Meshach.
Privately, Meshach found these all very interesting terms and added them mentally to his repertoire. He also readied himself to drop backwards over the bar to avoid Bilibaub's sword, which really was too long to be just a sword. He probably was compensating.
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Posted: Thu Jun 21, 2007 3:38 pm
Just at the point when Bilibaub's sword reached the highest point of its arc, a shiny gold chain was slung through the air to wrap around the base of the blade near the hilt. The chain might be recognizable as part of Kaisa's ensemble, and it was only covered in gold leaf; it was actually made of high-quality steel. He never liked to be unprepared, after all. Just as the chain finished looping around the sword he shifted sideways, braced himself, and pulled.
Slight though Kaisa might appear, he did wrestle with full-grown griffons on a regular basis and he could hold his own. It would have been more than a surprise to a burly brute like Bilibaub to see someone who looked vaguely on the feminine side pull with such a savage strength. It was either drop the weapon, drop Meshach, or be dropped.
Kaisa smiled in a friendly sort of way, but his eyes were hard. Dragon or no dragon - and he personally thought that if the dragon had killed this idiot's anscestor it was probably in self-defense - this horrible waste of food and oxygen was getting on his nerves. "Honorable men don't sneak up on people looking for a drink, try to kill them without giving them a chance to defend themselves, or try to start fights in a bar before lunchtime. Now just because you have man-envy issues and are afraid of being the one mounted in the bed-chamber is no reason to take it out on someone you've obviously mistaken for someone else who probably showed you up in a pissing contest."
These jibes, though spoken in the same tone, were much less playful than the ones he'd used on Rem earlier. Seems Mal and the others got to see a little of both sides of Kaisa today. ...And he hadn't even started getting tipsy yet. This might ruin his chances with Mal, but eh... he wasn't keen on changing himself for someone he just met.
((Sorry if that was unexpected, but... I gotta keep him in character, right? XD))
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Posted: Fri Jun 22, 2007 5:46 am
Total pwnage, Hai. And I do apologize for breaking up what would have made a lovely brawl by bringing Silence in, but I can't imaging that Shane wouldn't hear the goings-on and do something about it. Even just send her new employee out to see what was happening.
Meshach, pleasantly surprised that he had not been forced to put a bar between himself and Bilibaub, glanced around for his second champion. This was actually getting to be a little humiliating. Surely he didn't need so many protectors? He had once been a dragon, after all, and in his human form he was not feeble. However, he was also not towering and muscle-bound. He had been fit as a dragon, and so he was fit as a human. Had he been otherwise, he supposed he would now be otherwise, but tht was thinking in the subjunctive, and now was hardly the time for that.
The effeminate man with the gold chain seemed well into his tirade as Bilibaub clearly wondered how things had gone so horribly wrong, and so Meshach, with the casual lightness of movement which characterizes pick pockets, thieves, and cats, lunged forward and swept Bilibaub's helmet from his head in a graceful motion. He didn't bother to keep ahold of it, instead opting to let it fly across the barroom.
With his sword distressingly captured and his helm unexpectedly removed, Bilibaub decided to recoup his losses. He dropped the sword and dropped to his knees just in time to avoid the downward arc of the hilt of Meshach's knife, which was aimed at the base of his skull. When he rose he had in his hand the ax which he wore at his belt. He could think of no rejoinder to make to this new queer who had assaulted him - he was certain the man was a queer, they probably all were - and so he continued in the vein he'd started before.
"Defilers of the dead and small children. Gutless guttersnipes. Yeasty codpieces. Lock-jawed lackwits. Hare-lipped atrocities. Oedipal wankers. Eaters of excrement. Self-sucking sluts. Queers." Etcetera and so fourth. Bilibaub had quite the creative streak when it came to combining words to make them insulting. Meshach took careful note of the most interesting of these epithets for future use, now that he felt more certain that he would have a future in which to use them.
Meshach, listening to the effeminate young man speak, decided that he liked him, too. Perhaps after this he might have some people to spend time with besides Silence. Not that he didn't like Silence, but they had seen quite enough of each other with barely any respite since meeting with Laura and the others when Silence broke her arm. That had been some time ago. She would probably be glad to be rid of him, too, at least for short periods of time.
As if summoned by Meshach's thoughts. Silence came out of the back room. Meshach let out a small groan. Bar fights were all well and good, but they were notably less so when one had to explain oneself afterward. Even more less so when one had to explain oneself to Silence, who, despite her extensive training in the use of weaponry, was not one given to fighting if there were any other option. Fortunately, it didn't look as though he would have to.
Shane had told Silence to go look in the bar to see what was going on. She said it sounded like the beginnings of a battle. So Silence had obediently gone onto the main floor to have a look-see. She looked around, noted the weapons and furious expressions, and then went to one of the barrels behind the counter and pulled two mugs of dark beer. She put on a sweet smile as she turned back toward the beginnings of the brawl.
"Excuse me, gentlemen," she said, pitching her voice where she hoped it would be heard over whatever else was being said, "and I am currently using the term loosely. There's absolutely no need for this."
She walked around the counter and handed a mug of beer to the warrior whom she was very glad she couldn't hear. She could guess from his facial expression and the expressions of the rest of the bar's patrons that whatever he was saying was not meant for female ears. Which made her wonder why he was saying it in a bar where there were females present.
"The first drink," she said, making it up as she went along, "is on the house."
As she said this, she stepped up to the bare-headed warrior and traded one of the mugs of beer for the ax in his hands. The knight looked dumbfounded. Then she walked through what she knew to be the beginnings of a brawl with lots of sharp objects, stepping over a gold chain which was wrapped around a broadsword of a very old make and between one of the men she had seen getting shirtless earlier and the armored man toward Meshach.
"I believe this is your first drink today?" she asked, handing him the second mug of beer and deftly relieving him of his knife at the same time. In an undertone she added, "Why do I get the feeling this is your fault?"
Returning to a cheerful tone meant for everyone's ears Silence said, "Now that we've all got something to hold besides weapons, I suggest we all find seats and enjoy the fine provisions offered by Shane Tespia at the Charming Penguin."
If anyone was going to complain about what she had done, she didn't want to know about it. If it was necessary, she'd pay for the two drinks out of her own pocket. It seemed a small price to prevent the over-armored man from getting butchered by those clearly more clever than he, if less thoroughly armed. She put both the ax and the knife under the counter on the server's side and considered going back for the sword, but decided against it.
Instead, she braced herself on her forearms and began to whistle somewhat tunelessly, which was hardly surprising, really.
Fey's note concerning weaponry: Bilibaub's ax is about 22" long and his sword is about 39" long (counting the hilt and the blade). Or, so say the sites I stole the pictures from.
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