MapTool Log 05/24

rsek: Zoa, citadel of the Bay, city of the Lighthouse. Really, during the day it could simply be called city of the light – many of the buildings are done in white stucco, which makes much of the place very bright even in the mild spring sun.

rsek: Said sun is low in the sky at the moment, throwing the city in to sharp relief – buildings are bright on one side and dark on the other. The inside of the Sheathed Sword Inn is a happy medium, and has decent-quality food and drink (as well as the security afforded by being a popular hangout for the Shields) to boot.

rsek: It’s a fairly large place, and cleaner than many inns. A few waitresses shuttle people’s food and drink, a muscular and somewhat grizzled fellow is tending bar, some nondescript minstrel playing a bouzouki and the evening crowd is just beginning to filter in.

rsek: ((Lee, it’s your inn, so feel free to elaborate as desired. The rest of you are either already situated or just coming in, up to you. this is more a setting of the scene than anything else, but feel free to do whatever))

rsek: ((BGM: http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/playlist/The+Sheathed+Sword/29651961))

rsek: ((wow fuck you formatting the link including the parentheses))

Lucky: (as this is a rhydin inn i will be brooding in the corner as befits my half-vampire half-werewolf half-angel prophesied god slayer heritage)

rsek: ((hahah))

Cyrnoyim: (rape alley is right outside, don’t forget)

Lucky: (at least it’s not the slave market)

Cyrnoyim: (or the suicide cliffs)

rsek: ((slave market is at the other end of the district))

Kevan: ( Hey, I didn’t buy an inn off of rape alley. That’s three streets over)

Lucky: (slave market was easy to derail though. protip: run through playing a small animal)

Lucky: (grimdark mcgothpants looking for his latest concubine will probably flip his shit when all of his latest concubines completely lose their minds over it)

rsek: ((also yes i recognize this is the cliche but i hope that it burning down soon is subversive enough ))

Lucky: (fuckin spoilers)

Kon-dron is sitting at one of the tables, surrounded by empty mugs and not looking like he’s going to stop any second..yeah, no, he just ordered another.

Kon-dron: ((fuck you huys I’m gonna play so many roles))

rsek: One very harried waitress seems to have been relegated to the job of serving both Kon-dron and a few other tables. Poor lass. She grimaces as she heads back to the bar to get another tray of drinks from Kevan, the proprieter.

rsek: “This fella better tip well. Ugh.”

Kevan: “He giving you problems?”

Lucky: As the long day slowly bleeds into the long night, patrons filter in and out – among them a young woman clad in greys and browns, wearing a long, well-worn cloak – covered in colorful patches and stitches from emergency repairs and looking more like an exceptionally sturdy and weather-resistant child’s quilt than a cloak. Sure, the day had been positively fruitless – how many hadn’t been? – but there was always time for respite. Besides, Fistbeard recommended this place, and everyone loved Fistbeard’s recommendations, right? She sidles up to the bar after a little surreptitious observation with a cheery smile.

Lucky: (:words

rsek: “Nah, but he’s gonna have problems getting up the stairs at this rate. Man drinks like a dwarf.”

Cal: Cal is sitting at a table full of locals, regaling them with stories from his trip here. “And that’s when the constable realized I was wearing his uniform! Oh boy, was he mad!” He laughs heartily, finishing off his drink and motioning for another when the barmaid comes by.

Lucky: (augh smilies where is the function to turn it off)

Kon-dron: (that is super kawaii)

Lucky: (aha, it’s in preferences. rad)

Kon-dron: (_)

rsek: ((uguuu))

Lucky: (yes. asian rogues abound)

Cal: (my waifu corsetbitch the rogue)

Lucky: (everyone loves fistbeard)

Lucky: (hit new reanaarian sitcom)

Lucky: (Kevan runs screaming around his inn it seems)

Cal: (practicing his bull rushes)

rsek: Cal has attracted a decently sized group of locals, including a few women (and at least one man) who seem… awfully friendly. “And how did you get out of that one?”

rsek: ((also lucky has come up to the bar. seals are terrible bartenders :| ))

Kevan: (I didn’t realize where the bar was. My bad!)

rsek: ((no worries))

Cyrnoyim Cyrnoyim, wearied by a full day of horrors and blood-curdling sights, enters the establishment with requistite aplomb, easing into the nearest chair – cleanest seat he can find – whichever is furthest from everyone and everything in the building. The brim of his hat shades his face – a sure sign of a desire to be left to his own devices.

Cyrnoyim: (( whoops ))

Cyrnoyim: (( you get the idea ;D ))

Kon-dron: (brooding in the corner)

rsek: It’s not long before that same harried barmaid makes her way to his table, laden with several empty tankards and dishes. “What’ll it be, luv?”

Cyrnoyim ’s hands lift in a halting manner – no closer, please. In fact, he waves her away.

Kon-dron: ((fuck this tavern music im playing lubu’s theme))

Kevan: (( Stupid commands. How does you do the emotey thing?))

rsek: “Uh, alright.” She frowns, muttering under her breath as she leaves to attend to another table. “Bloody snooty elves…”

Cyrnoyim: (( /me ))

Kon-dron: ( impersonate yr token and then /me )

Kevan glances up from polishing glasses and notices thenewcomer in the haphazardly patched cloak standing at the bar. He attempts to restrain a smile at the patchwork repairs, but fails pretty miserably. “Something I can get for you?”

Cal: “Oh, you’ll love dis part! Me breda Red had been hanging around the constable the past few days by then, and he had told me about how he’d let people off if they managed to beat him at a game of cards! So, when he’s barreling up to me, I pull a deck from my pocket and hold it up. Next thing I know, we’re in his office playing poker!”

rsek: Queue laughter from the small crowd that has assembled. A young man with clasically Reanaarian features – olive skin, wavy dark hair – pipes up. “Well, was he any good?”

Cal: “Hell no! I’m amazed he even bothered trying, me n’ Red got off without a problem, and a bit of gold from our wager with the locals over it!”

Lucky: “Yeah! The.. um..” She rifles around in the cloak for a pocket, then pulls out a tattered and worn copy of ‘Fridays with Fistbeard’, poring over it for a moment. Glowing praise for something called the ‘Homewrecker’ sounded good, but the description of face-melting terror was a little off-putting.. “Um..” Another surreptitious glance – there was another sulking elf in a proper sulking corner opposite of Cyrn with a fruity looking drink – but hell, she had an excuse for fruity. ”.. One of those, please.”

rsek: ((ahaha))

Cyrnoyim: (( lol ))

Kevan: (( You realize, whatever fruity looking drink that is is going to have a kick like a warhorse on PCP, yes? ))

rsek: ((man, and it’s a bit off a walk to the rape alley, too.))

Lucky: (I know, which makes it funnier)

Lucky: (besides an elf is drinking it, you’d make the same assumption)

Lucky: (fkn elves)

rsek: ((the most grizzled elf in the world))

Kevan: (Remember, Lucky is NOT lucky. )

Lucky: (c’est la vie)

Kevan laughs and begins to mix the drink. “New around here?”

Lucky: “Sort of! I used to live nearby but I didn’t get out much.. I’ve been making up for lost time with Fistbeard’s help.” She tucks the worn parchment away carefully. “Still haven’t met him, though..”

rsek: A couple fellows, off-duty Shields by the uniforms, have joined the edges of Cal’s little fan-throng. The callow one laughs at the story. The old, hardbitten one gives the lad a hard stare, and he quiets abruptly.

Lucky: (ashel steals golby’s backstory elements.txt)

Lucky: (thievery 10 for a reason)

Kon-dron shouts over with a jovial grin toward the bar as he nearly falls out of his chair, waving a small sack of coin around. “Hey! Still waiting on that thirteenth homewrecker! I’ll never hear the end of it from the old man if I don’t beat his record today!”

rsek: ((i’m picturing some sort of bizarre fistbeard fan club forming))

Kevan: “Ah. He comes and goes. No doubt you’ll meet him eventually”

Lucky: (signs hung outside of inns ‘we welcome all followers of fistbeard, bring a copy of fridays with fistbeard for 10% off)

Kevan slides the fruity red concoction down the bar towards the woman in the patchwork cloak.

rsek: The overworked waitress scuttles back to Kon’dron’s table with the requested drink. At this point much of her consternation has been replaced with awe and some concern. “Careful, dear. Wouldn’t want ya to die before paying up, no?”

Lucky: She catches it at the last second with lightning speed, the sort unexpected from random bar patrons. She then proceeds to make up for it by nearly knocking over the drink of the guy next to her, following it up with rapid-fire apologies.

Cyrnoyim is propping his walking staff up against the wall to his right, as the growing throng begins to laugh it up. And it curls his soft little toes in his soft suede boots. But Cyrnoyim was quite decided on not letting the noise levels, boisterous monkeys, or appalling musical selections get under his skin. “Deep breaths,” he told himself. This hostel was as good a place as he’d find before sundown, and if what he’d seen prior to it was any indication – the streets were the last place he wanted to be a night. Endure, he told himself, as he lifted a hand casually in the direction of the harried wench.

Kevan: (Really, if he kills himself on homewreckers, the note it gets in Fridays with Fistbeard will make this place the most popular place in town)

Cal: “And now I’m here in Zoa! It’s pretty nice, but I’ve only been here for a day or two.” He leans in to the closest lady at the table. “How’d you like to show me around tomorrow? I heard the view from the top of the inn is breathtaking.” He grins, then notices the officers. “Come, sit down!” He turns, stopping the barmaid as she scuttles off from Kon-dron’s table. “Let’s get a round for everybody at my table!” He slips a few gold coins into her palm and pats her on the shoulder before returning to his table. “What brings you to our fair table tonight, guys?”

Kon-dron slams down yet another mug, the act of which nearly knocks him out of his chair on its own. “Hey, hey! hic! I got th’ taaab right here if I bite it, so don’tcha worry yourself..”

Lucky cradles her drink carefully, taking a testing sip. It was colorful enough, but you know, poisonous insects were colorful too.

Lucky: (meanwhile in the rafters, bloodangel von hitler looks down upon the plebians in the bar. when he unlocked his heritage and retrieved Angel Slayer from Revolver Ocelot, he would have his revenge on them all)

Cal: (sepiroth goku the stampede will stop him with his buff wizard powers)

rsek: “If you say so.” The waitress catches Cyrn’s gesture, and heads over there. “What’ll it be, then?” Meanwhile, another waitress – this one a dwarf – attends to Cal’s table. The girl sitting next to Cal starts up – “Oh, well, I’d love t—” – but is then cut off by the younger of the two shields, who’s a freckly, callow, and excitable fellow. He looks elated to be here. “Oh, well, we’re just here for a break, you know, and and…” He trails off. The elder one gruffly continues. “Keep it on the level, aye? No funny business, and we get to stay off duty. It’s a nice night, hate to have to interrupt it, savvy?”

Cyrnoyim: (XxSSJ6HeeroZechsCloudxX destroys the bar from outside with a KAMERASENGAN. everybody dies, and if they don’t they’re MODERS)

Cal: “Oh aye, no problems here. Just having a good time with some new friends, right?” He looks to the rest of the table, grinning softly. “Now sit, I bet men such as yourselves work hard, and you deserve some relaxation!”

Lucky: (AND THEN EVERYTHING WAS ON FIRE OH NO)

rsek: The younger one nods vigorously and pulls up a chair. “Yes, we DO work awfully hard… but that’s nothing compared to some of your escapades! How exciting!” The older one frowns hard at the back of the other’s head, then heads back to his own table nearby.

rsek: ((Young Cop and Old Cop are every cop))

Cyrnoyim sat upright, back rigid as a board, chin lifted, while he waits expectantly on the barwench over at his empty table by the door, almost as if miffed by the fact he had to raise his hand at all. Through the fuschia shawl that wrapped ‘round much of his face and mask, he ordered – in Low Elven – “Water.” Then added, “In the most inoffensive glass your… ‘establishment’ has.”

Lucky: (beware axe cop)

Cyrnoyim: (and flute cop)

rsek: The waitress looks at Cyrn funny. “Oh, right. You’re one of those elves. Fine, I’ll send Jaia your way.” She hurries off, and in a few minutes there’s a perky half-elf woman with an unusually high-pitched voice. She speaks Low Elven, at least. “What are you having?”

Lucky: (one of ~those fruity elves)

Cyrnoyim: (=3

Cyrnoyim: (... shit)

Cal: “The life of a travelling singer is quite the story, I suppose, but you do real good work for your people here! That’s what’s important, y’seen?” He nods to the young cop. “Be proud, mon! In fact!” He stands up and whistles loudly with one hand. “HEY, LADIES AND GENTLEMAN, CAN WE GET A ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR OUR FRIENDS FROM THE SHIELD, WHO WORK HARD EVERY DAY PROTECTING Y’ALL’S SORRY BUTTS FROM SCOUNDRELS LIKE I AND I!” He moves over to pat the younger one on the shoulder and motions the older one over.

Lucky: The patchwork rogue stares at the outburst, head tilted quizzically for a moment, before clapping anyway. Sure, they’d interfered before, but they were just doing their jobs, right? Just like it was the Mercata job to smuggle and kill and like it was her job to find that missing guard. It would have helped if she hadn’t lost the wanted poster, though..

Kevan rolls his eyes at the outburst. “This isn’t going to be pretty.”

Kon-dron blinks drunkely in the direction of the table where al the noise is going on as he orders his 14th homewrecker, nearly falling out of his seat as he applauds.

Cyrnoyim meets the half-human’s expresion with the slightest of squints, the corners of his eyes crinkling like paper. It was a few moments before he repeated his prior request, fingers drumming soundlessly on the table as a fellow from across the inn roars and hoots some obsencities from his herd of attendants. “Water, in a tall glass,” he managed. “And the glass will sparkle like crystal if I am to drink from it. Cannot be too careful, with the… ‘sorts’ that frequent this flophouse.”

Cyrnoyim adds, through a tight-lipped smile, “You understand, surely?”

Lucky: (jerkass elves)

Cyrnoyim: (haters gon hate)

rsek: The older Shield hesitates, but hey, free round. He takes a seat next to the younger shield, who enthusiastically starts to applaud before realizing clapping for himself is a bit gauche. Meanwhile, the half-elf waitress attending to Cyrn nods her head twice, continuing in Low Elven. “Of course, sir. I’ll be but a moment.” She either doesn’t noticed or is used to elven attitude, and seems unfased and continually cheery.

Cyrnoyim ’s skin crawls appropriately.

Cal: “DESE BOYS DON’T GET DE RESPECT DEY DESERVE, AND I’MA FIX THAT RIGHT NOW!” He waits for the older one to get situated, then gives meaningful looks to some of the other ladies at the table that he has yet to hit on, aiming one for the younger one and another for the older. Then he jogs over to the bar, grin plastered to his face. “Hey mon, what’s de best beer y’got in dis place?”

rsek: At the bar, the long-suffering waitress grimaces at Cal’s call for another round. “Jaia, you heard the man. Help Ser Snoot there real quick-like and get back here.”

Cal: (being huge charisma is more fun than I remember it being)

Lucky: (charismatic as FUCK)

Kevan sighs and places the polishing rag on the counter behind the bar.

Cyrnoyim: (GOD, jog over to the BAR already, you’re ruining my immersion)

Cal: (whoops)

Cal: (too busy being cha 20)

Kevan: “Eeehhhhh… Fistbeard prefers the dark, if I remember rightly, but they’re all good. I don’t serve bad beer.”

Cyrnoyim: (hahahaha)

rsek: ((i sort of wish it animated like… a slide from place to place when moving tokens))

Cal: “Alright mon, gimme two a’de dark den.” He slaps down far too much money for whatever the beer probably costs. Red probably forgot in-between making money hand over fist with him and pranking assholes in towns they’d visit to teach him how to conserve money.

Lucky: (but then i’d point all my sprites in the opposite direction i was moving)

Lucky: (and moonwalk across the map)

Cal: (backdash through everything, speedrunner)

Lucky: (exactly)

Cal: (so what you’re saying is this is actually a metroidvania)

Cal: (when do i get my whip)

Kevan sighs and draws up two mugs of beer and slides them across the bar.

Lucky: (4e is video games)

rsek: The half-elf barmaid returns with Cyrn’s water in an impressively clean glass. “Here you go!!” She’s not really shouting, just… cheery. So cheery. With that she scampers off to help her human counterpart.

Kevan: “There you go”

Kevan slides the coins off of the bar and places them into a pocket

Cyrnoyim halts her, arresting her with a hand. “Attend, rellisheinnaluma.” He was not done with her yet.

Cal: “Tanks mon!” He snatches up the beer and actually walks back to his table, can’t spill his honored guest’s drinks after all! “Here mon, drink up!” He sets one down in front of both guards, then sits back down at the table.

Lucky: (Kevan doesn’t care about black people)

Cal: (goddamn darkies buying all my beer)

rsek: A small cheer goes up from the small crowd. “Oh! You shouldn’t have.” Young cop raises his mug to those assembled, then drinks deeply. “It’s my favorite, how did you know?” Even old cop nods his assent. “You alright, lad.”

Cal: “Me Da always said to treat people right, y’seen? I might’ve forgotten how to do that sometimes, but I figure it all works out in the end!”

rsek: Young cop nods vigorously. “So true, so true.” A pause. “Oh, but you simply must give us another story!”

rsek: ((ah shit, sorry cyrn, getting to you now))

Cyrnoyim: (s’cool)

rsek: Jaia the waitress raises both eyebrows. “Is something the matter sir?”

Cyrnoyim sizes up the glass as if appraising a slab of marble or some fine trinket of great arcane worth. Just how clean is this glass, exactly? Surely not very, if it had been in a half-human’s hands. The fact that his throat was as parched as the eastern wastes mattered little in the face of this not-insubstantial fact. “Who cleaned this?” he asked, quietly as ever.

Lucky has somehow made it halfway through her colorful drink, quietly (but no longer soberly) watching the mayhem that is city life. It almost made her a bit philosophical, if she could keep any of the thoughts in her head before the taste of fruit chased by fire cleansed them.

rsek: She smiles – well, actually she never stopped, really. “Kevan, sir! He’s the proprieter, and is tending bar as we speak. We have another lad to handle the tankards and other dishes, but the glassware is always done by Kevan. Takes cleanliness very seriously, and his glassware moreso.”

Kon-dron is on his 15th by now, leaning in over at Cal’s table to better listen in. ...Leaning in so far his seat just fell over, not that he seems too fazed by it.

Cal: “Well…just de one! Let’s see…” He pauses, hand on his chin. “Oh, here we go! De day we left port for Zoa! Now dat’s a hell of a story. Y’see, that was the day we got attacked by pirates!” He laughs. “We set off early morning, sailing from…shit, I don’t even remember where! But we were sailin’ along a coast, right as we pass some small little cove, cannon fire rings out! Me n’ Red were on deck, passin’ a bottle of rum ‘tween us and a few of the deckhands, and the shot knocked the bottle right out of Red’s hand!”

Cyrnoyim leans in his seat a bit to get a good, long look at said proprieter, a burly and altogether indelicate looking sir that towered from behind his admittedly well-kept bar. Oh, the poor dear! She knew not her ignorance! The grey elf’s half-charred eyebrows lilted up in the tiniest of expressions of pity. “Dear,” he remarked, “there is no such thing as a cleanly monkey.”

Cyrnoyim: “Take it back. Have the dwarf clean it.”

Cyrnoyim then dismissed the half-human with a wave.

rsek: “But… she’s on shift…” She trails off, then heads back to the bar. “Kevan, he says he doesn’t want a glass cleaned by a… a.. a monkey. That’s what he said. Said he wanted it done by the dwa – er, Fenya.”

Cal: “So we all leap up, ‘errybody’s shoutin’ and den, de ship comes out of de cove, pirate flags wavin! I’ve nevah been dat scared in me life, an’ I hope I never am again!” He pauses to take a long drink. “We were ridin’ a merchant vessel tanks to Red’s old friend de captain, so alls we had were a few men wit’ cutlasses and little shields. But de pirate ship weren’t firin, dey were readyin’ to board.” His grin has slowly disappeared

Cyrnoyim: ( muwahahaha )

Cal: (fuckin periods how do they work)

rsek: Young cop is entranced, his eyes wide. “Oh no! What happened then!?”

Cal: “We had to fight de bastards off!” He mimes pulling a sword from a scabbard and kind of waving it wildly without much skill. “Dey outnumbered us three to one, but we had an advantage: Anybody care to guess what dat be?”

Kevan closes his eyes and tilts his head back in thought.

rsek: There’s a few shouts from the audience. “The rum!” “Favour of the Raconteur!” From some wiseacre in the back – “The power of love!”

Kon-dron: “BEARS.”

Kevan ducks his head down and leans in close to speak quietly to Jaia. “Ah, well. If he wants to be that way… Ask Fenya, nicely, to clean the glass for him. Carefully. Spit shine it even. She can be… creative.”

Cal: Cal points to the man who shouted ‘the power of love’. “Love of me damn hide is more like it! But no, t’was me n’ Red! I’ma let you in on a secret, ladies and gentlemen! Me? I’m an adventurer! Red taught me everyting I know! T’gether, we kicked dose pirate asses across de bay and right off our boat! But! One problem! N’ whadda tink dat might be, friends?”

rsek: “The rum!” “The ire of Ill-Luck!” “Bad rations!”

Lucky: “I bet he’ll say bears again.”

Cyrnoyim seems to be looking to and fro the tavern veraciously, as if wondering where on earth his glass of water could possibly be. How hard could it be to provide a clean glass of aqua vitae? It was not as if he’d asked to drink the tears of the Creator, fresh from her wondrous eyelids. This was not hard.

Kon-dron tries to pull himself back into his seat as he shouts over. “STORMS.”

Cal: “De lack of rum was definitely a problem afterward, I’ll tell you dat!” He laughs. “No, t’was the pirate captain!” He points to Kon-Dron. “Say it wit me mon, what d’ye think he had wit him?!”

Lucky: “Aw..”

Kon-dron picks up his 16th mug, looks down, and then looks over at Cal, giving another hic in the process.

Kon-dron: ”...”

Cal: Cal motions with his hands. “C’mon den!”

Kon-dron: “Wuzzit…”

Kon-dron: “SHARKS?”

rsek: Jaia nods twice. “Of course sir!!” She heads off to intercept Fenya as the dwarf is moving across the floor. They exchange words, Fenya rolls her eyes but then takes the glass and heads off the the back.

Cal: Cal throws up his hands. “MON, HE HAD A BEAR! WE HAD TO FIGHT A TAMED BEAR ON A BOAT!”

Lucky: “Should have gone with bears again!”

Kon-dron nearly falls over laughing. “Y’ave t’be..hic..kiddin’ me!”

Cal: “I never lie in me stories, friend! Dat bear knocked Red out cold, lef’ me and a few deckhands with piddly little knives t’fight it with! You wanna know what i did?” He pauses.

Kon-dron: ”...”

Kon-dron: ”....Y’thrw th’oney..overburrd..hic..”

Cyrnoyim can’t help, at this point, stealing a glance over shoulder at the no doubt rousing tale being told by the dreadlocked… “fellow” who seemed to be the source of all the tavern’s noise – whether he was or not. What a crass creature, ululating like some exotic jungle beast. Whatever he ‘did,’ he certainly didn’t close his trap, that was for certain.

Cal: “I sang. I got up in dat bear’s face and sang my feckin’ heart out! And y’know what happened? DAT FUCKIN BEAR RAN LIKE A LITTLE GIRL RIGHT OFF DE BOAT, STARTED SWIMMINFOR THE COAST! DER PIRATE CAPTAIN DOVE IN AFTER IT, AND WE STARTED SAILIN THE HELL OFF!” He laughs, drinking the last of his ale and slamming it down on the table.

Cal: “I tink I need a bit more work on me singin, I guess!”

rsek: Fenya emerges from the back with the glass and makes a show of taking it behind the bar herself and filling it, so as not to offend this delicate flower of an elf. She then waddles over to Cyrn, with the glass on the proverbial silver platter instead of one of the regular trays. From her expression she’s either immune to irony or very good at keeping a straight face.

Cyrnoyim rises from his chair, vindicated, thinking that at this point he might do anything to be ANY distance further from the raconteur and all his noise when at last he sees the dwarf approach with a platter and his long awaited glass. Seeing her expression, he smiles faintly himself, for all that it could be seen, and reseats himself. Again, in low elven, he remarked, “As fast as you are fastidious, I see.”

Lucky: (man at this rate the inn will burn down because of Kevan trying to light cyrn on fire)

rsek: ((ahahah))

rsek: Cal’s crowd laughs uproariously, and follow up with a round of applause. Meanwhile, Fenya nods curtly and waddles off.

Cyrnoyim takes the glass without haste, despite the dryness of his throat. He wanted to savor his well-earned glass – his well-earned platter. Those eyes crinkled in mock-appreciation, as he nodded in the direction of the gorilla behind the bar. With this, the elf pulls down his shawl, revealing his seared-white flesh – and has his well-earned drink.

Cyrnoyim: (should i expect what i expect i should expect?)

rsek: Back at the bar – “Dunno ‘ow ‘e still thinks ‘e kin put on airs like that,” grumbles Fenya. “He ain’t even pretty anymore.”

Cyrnoyim: (does he realize something is off?)

rsek: ((things seem to be petering out, and it’s about time to stop anyways – so i guess we should wrap up soon. and uh good question))

rsek: ((honestly, it’s up to you :V it doesn’t matter too much in the end))

rsek: The night rolls on, and the room gradually fills as more people have their evening meal or drink, and empties as people finish and head to bed. ((anything before we call it a night happens now. people staggering off to their rooms, whatever ))

Cyrnoyim ’s tongue catches the hint of something… off. Quite off, very off, indeed – something he did not like at all. Far too dignified to spit the liquid out, his wrecked face contorts at the edges as he… swallows the liquid, rather than his pride. But this insult… would not stand. The grey elf retrieves his staff from the nook at his side, and rises surreptitiously to his feet. Until now, he hadn’t been decided on whether he would take his chances with the Zoan nightlife or remain here – this quite settled it.

Kevan grins as he notices the elf’s reaction

rsek: ((ahahah. the best part is if he pushes it too far he could make himself a suspect in the eyes of the Shields :V ))

Lucky finally (finally) sets the glass down on the bar, swooning slightly. Apparently, the colorful drink was a precursor to the colors that would later be flashing across her vision.

rsek: ((elf with burns is pissed, and next thing you know the place is on fire?))

Cyrnoyim: ( shit, shit, SHUT UP )

Cal: At this point Cal is thoroughly drunk, leaning on the lady he had hit on earlier in the night for support as he hobbles his way towards his room.

Kon-dron is stumbling over back to his table, reaching for his god-knows-which-th homewrecker. He’d have to pass out eventually…hopefully.

Cyrnoyim tipped the glass significantly towards the human at the bar before heading off to his room, composed and proud as ever. There was no question that he was aware of what had been done, but… let him think that he had won this exchange – the night would bring interesting things. Of that, Cyrn was certain.

Lucky: (interesting things like FIRE)

Cyrnoyim: (SPOILER ALART)

rsek: From the back emerges Gark, the hulking half-orc dishboy. “Oi, boss. Need some drunks hauled to them’s rooms agin?”

Cyrnoyim: (oh lawd, thank god Cyrn didn’t see him)

rsek: ((hahah))

rsek: ((also, dang, dude is an equal oppurtunity employer. :V though, this is zoa, so i mean, there’s a pretty good mix))

Kevan: (( Insulting his half-orc dishboy can be dangerous, though. Kevan will let him throw the offender out, and the “throwing” is literal. ))

rsek: ((doing dishes AND hauling drunks probably makes him the single most valuable employee. dual purpose be the way to go))

Cyrnoyim: (( if Cyrn knew that the person who regularly did the dishes was a half-orc, he probably would have flipped. ))

Cyrnoyim: (( in his way ))

rsek: ((okay, drunks hauled off, people sleep, BUT WHAT HORRORS AWAIT? TUNE IN NEXT WEEK))

Cyrnoyim: (( NEXT TIME ON DRAGON BALL Z ))

Cyrnoyim: (( fire ))

rsek: ((i really hope the log auto saves haaah))

rsek: ((ok shutting her down~))

MapTool Log 05/24

Bones of the Dead Eleven rsek