The Alraeican Tavern - part VII
Part 7 of the great Tavern of Cythera, yet another chapter of Board history unfolds... So get drunk fast and enjoy yourself!
The tavern is bustling with activity as the sun starts to lower and people start coming to the tavern to spend the money they earned today. As the crowds of happy and sad people head to the tavern to quench their thirst, a stranger appears from behind a nearby hill and starts to approach the tavern. He is clad in a large black cloack with a hood that conceals his face in shadows, his shirt and pants are also black but his gloves are a very dark blue that is almost black and his boots are the plain brown skin boots but they're steel tipped. When he enters the tavern... nothing special happens, some of the patrons look at the newcomer and then return to their drinks. He goes over to the bar and orders some drinks and sits down at a corner table.
A man enters the tavern, looking rather confused. He's dressed rather strangly by Cytherian standard, however as the establishment is full of odd characters in dark robes and all sorts of bazzire atire, he draws few glances.
The man approaches a patron. He asks something in a strange language that the drunken person dosen't understand. Unsatisfied, he repeates his question to the crowd, but none of them can understand his speech.
Several persons seem to manifest interest in the unusual newcomer.
Pyrus was sitting at a table pondering Rogan's warning when he noticed a stranger at the bar to whom several patrons were paying attention. He made his way through the thickening crowd to get a better view. He quickly realized that this man was a foreigner, wearing strange clothing, and speaking in a strange tongue.
"Hello," Pyrus greeted the man, "Can you understand me?"
The confused man replied with some words that sounded friendly but were not Cytherian. He then reached for a notepad in one of his pockets and wrote on it with a strange instrument.
The characters he produced were unusual, and certainly not the common tongue of the city. He held the script up for Pyros to see, although what he intended to accomplish by this was uncertain. Perhaps the visitor thought that Pyros might be able to at least read his language.
_The wind howled outside the stone tower, rain lashed at the glass windows, and lightning cracked angrily around the small village. The little girl was pulled from her sleep by horrible cries coming from the streets. She sat up panting, and looking around the room. Her eyes fell upon the old wooden bed that had been her younger brothers, and she began to understand what was happening.
She leapt from under the covers, still holding her worn, brown teddy bear, her feet landing upon the cold stone floor, and sprinted down the stairwell, jumping three stairs at a time. She slipped on the bottom stair and fell hard upon the landing. Ignoring the pain in her arms and knees, she rose again and continued to run through the small, stone tower until she reached the bottom level where she found her parents.
The woman running with a small backpack in her arms stopped and looked with distressed, yet loving eyes at the little girl. ‘Nix, hurry, you have to get out. They haven’t come to us yet so it will be safe for you to leave through the back door.’
The little girl shook her head. ‘I want to help mummy! I don’t want to leave you and daddy!’
The woman rushed forward and flung her arms around the little girl. ‘There is nothing you can do now. Your father and I can take care of ourselves, but you have to get out! Here, I have packed food and extra blankets in here for you. There is also a message for the council in Olophas, you must make sure they get it.’
The girl looked up at her mother. ‘Is this because of me?’ she asked.
The woman looked down at her daughter. ‘No, Nixus. This would have happened eventually anyway; and it is more your father and my own fault than it is yours. You must get away from here, and remember that we both will always love you.’
The girl nodded, and without time to say goodbye to her father, who was casting protecting spells upon the door and readying himself for the invasion, she ran from the doomed tower and did not stop until the village was far behind her._
Nixus’ eyes suddenly shot open, and she lay panting under the ocean of night sky, her head still resting in Dusk’s lap. It was just a dream, she thought, it’s over now. You’re far away from that place, and they’ll never find you. It wasn’t your fault… She looked up; Dusk’s head was resting upon one of his hands and his eyes were closed. ‘Dusk?’ Nixus asked, but the man didn’t reply; he was asleep.
Nixus slipped away from Dusk. She stood and, being careful not to wake him, lowered Dusk to the ground and placed her cloak beneath his head. She sat beside him holding her knees and staring into the heart of the fire, completely consumed by the memories of her childhood.
The tavern door opened, and in came a man. He was wearing brown robes, and a hood that concealed most of his face. He stopped in the doorway and made a quick survey of the tavern, looking closely at all the patrons. He noticed the commotion near the bar, what with the outlander, but it wasn't him he was paying his attention to. His eyes - concealed by the hood - was fixed at the young newcomer, Pyrus.
Some of the patrons that were sitting near the door began to feel a draft and grunted at the man. He moved out of the way, the door slamming shut behind him. Hearing that sound, several patrons turned to see who had entered the tavern; it might just be one of the regulars, a drinking buddy, perhaps a beautiful young woman or another suspicous looking outlander. The man looked suspicious all right, protecting his identity so well, but this was nothing the patrons hadn't seen before. The tavern was always full of cloaked individuals.
The man proceeded, making his way through the crowd but avoiding the center of it, and towards a table in the corner, where another man wearing identical clothing was sitting.
This one had also been watching Pyrus for some time.
They sat there in silence for a few moments, before one of them spoke. "There he is".
"Was he alone?" answered the man that had just come in.
"No, he came in with some other men. Regretably, one of them noticed my presence. I think he warned the boy before he left."
The other man turned around and looked at Pyrus. "Nevertheless..."
Dusk was aware instantly something was different. He looked up, the sky was still dark and clouded. Nixus sat next to him, slightly shivering.
"Are you alright?"
Nixus jumped at the voice and smiled weakly "Sorry Dusk, I didn't realise you wre awake. Yes, I'm fine. Just a dream."
Dusk nodded and stretched. He poked at the fire, humming a tune softly to himself. Nixus warmed herself and tried to forget her dream.
"What tune is that?"
Dusk paused, and smiled, saying "Watlzing Matilda. Let's go, the sooner we set off the better."
The Pnyx rose from the prairie, an enormous pyramid of the purest white stone. The sun shone with glistening reform upon it's stepped surface striking a majestic sense of awe in Dusk. The doorway at the front had no obvious means of shutting, and was protected instead by two guards, standing stiffly at attention. It was an odd place, thought Dusk, for the center of magick in all of Cythera; seemingly built here for no reason at all, standing defiantly in waving grass with the sound of crashing shores beyond. Approaching the two men bearing long bladed pole arms brought a curtly spoken command "What is your name traveler, and what brings you here?"
Dusk removed his helmet and glanced up as he wiped his hands. "I am Dusk, from Cademia. I seek council with Head Mage Lindus. This is my companion, Nixus."
The guards eyed the man's strange attire and then motioned for him to enter. Dusk was rather surprised, no search for weapons, no pass required; what kind of castle is this?
But upon stepping through the carved doorway it fell on Dusk that this was not a fortification at all, but a school. Students milled up the enormous passage; books in hand, chatting and laughing, smiling and running, and their footsteps ripped Dusk's attention to the room itself. Giant pillars of stone towered upwards to ceilings lit without torch. No cobwebs marred the beautiful stone surface that shone, as if just polishing, still wet from a meticulous mop. The floor was simply tiled in polished granite, it's brownish surface gleaming with the same radience as the roof. Ahead of Dusk a stair case ascended, and in each direction the hallway continued, clearly following the base of the pyramid. Nixus gasped and whispered to Dusk, as if afraid to talk incase of echoes.
Dusk simply nodded and asked one of the students timidly where Head Mage Lindus, following his pointing hand down the left side of the Magisterium. A short walk brought the pair to solid metal door, inside revealing a great dining table; lined in seats with what was clearly the master chair, high backed and padded. In it sat Lindus, his beard flowing with the same natural look as King Alaric's did. Dusk knelt and Nixus awkwardly followed his lead. Lindus emitted the same power air as the King of Cythera, yet not quite as breath taking; less majestic and powerful, more scholarly.
"What brings you two to the Magesterium, do you wish to learn the ways of a mage?"
Dusk drew a chair out for Nixus and sat infront of Lindus.
"No, thank you Head Mage. I have come to ask your advice, Mavris said I should talk to you, as did Rogan."
Lindus nodded knowingly and smiled "Ahhh, the great librarian of Cademia, never very good at runic magick if I remenber correctly. And Rogan you say? Now him I havn't seen in a great time." The old man chuckled and waved a glass of wine into existance infront of his two guests; both Nixus and Dusk were startled by the trick, but didn't pass up the opportunity for a drink.
"So what is it you seek help on, my children?"
Dusk took another gulp of the wine, its taste far too rich for him, and explained about the rock that sat upon Roughs Point.
When he had finished, Lindus took a deep breath and tugged at his beard, clearly a habbit of those with magick. "Sounds like some kind of record. But recording for what, I wonder. You say the sun on this 'rock' rose from over the sea, the bridge in particular?"
"Could be of the First Tyrants era; be weary, for magick in those days was not as refined as it is today, not nearly as civilized either. But let us not dwell on dark times. Visit the cook in the study hall, I'm sure she'll whip you up something, provided you can pay, of course."
Nixus shifted uncomfortably, and coughed. Dusk too, looked downwards. "About that, sir. On our journey here we were robbed, if we could have rooms to sleep in tonight and food for our stay I give my word I will repay you."
Lindus stroked his beard again and smiled, "You do not lie, tell dear Helen I sent you."
Dusk sat and watched Nixus ate, having already finished his bowl of rice.
"What's the matter Dusk?" She asked, a slightly worried look casting it's dark fingers along the delicate lines of her face.
"Nothing." he stired his water impatiently with the spoon "What Lindus said, it scares me Nixus."
Nixus cooed softly and took hold of Dusks rough hands across the small (but solid) wooden table. "Things will work out, he didn't sound too worried and he knew what he was talking about Dusk." She smiled and finished her soup.
Helen, the bubbling Study Hall cook smiled when they asked for some rooms for the night. She grinned, flashing her stained teeth and bustled them upstairs, happily showing them to a dark room. "Don't worry about bugs, the mages keep a very clean place."
Nixus smiled politly as Helen left. The room was small, the beds almost touching down the centre: clearly guest quarters. A dirty oil lamp stuttered in the corner. Nixus looked at Dusk for a moment before he caught on.
"Sorry." he murmered as he pulled the door closed behind himself, leaving Nixus to change in peace.
A few minutes later they both slept in darkness. Nixus rolled and mumbled in dream, and Dusk slept silently- silently, but with his sword close at hand.
Yesterday we bent our necks to emperors and kings. Today, we kneel only to truth. -Kahil Gibran
(This message has been edited by dusk (edited 06-15-2003).)
A young girl slowly and carefully walked through the tavern door. She was small and blonde and was wearing a tattered brown dress and a thin white overcoat. Her delicate nose rejected the initial smell of the tavern but she knew she must enter if she wanted to stay safe.
She didn’t know how safe this overwhelming building was but she knew in her heart that it must be safer than her life on the street. A thief she was yes, but morally she hated to steal from people who may very well be kind and gentle people. It helped her not to think of them but she could not help it.
She hitched the bag that rested on her shoulder up so it didn’t slide onto the floor. This bag contained her only possessions, her mother’s diary of her thoughts, her father’s letters and her teddy bear of which she was too old for.
Sighing she entered the tavern full of hope but yet cautious as all.
Pyrus looked at the writing on the scroll, unable to decipher the words on it. If only my master were here, thought Pyrus, He might be able to decipher this. He spoke once again in Cytheran, enunciating slowly, saying, "Hello. My name is Pyrus." He thumped his fist to his heart as he spoke his name in hopes that the stranger might understand.
As he did so, he saw a few cloaked strangers approaching him out of the corner of his eye.
Will the real God please stand up?
The foreigner seemed to get the message. He pointed to Pyrus and said, among some other strange words, "Pyrus". He then mimicked the gesture that the other person had performed, giving what was apparently his own name - Dana. He then pointed to the (Evidently) corresponding characters on the paper that represented his name. Dana seemed hopeful that a solution to the problem might be found at last.
One of the cloaked men had gotten up from his chair and was headed in Pyrus' direction as the other one stopped him.
The man sat down on his chair again.
"Right. We do not make contact until he is alone."
"What about the one that got away this morning?" the other one asked.
"We have no use of him. Not now, anyway. He will not pose a threat until perhaps later."
The other man looked at Pyrus again, while speaking to his companion, "he's all alone now. He will probably try to contact his friend that left this morning. Let us use that to our advantage."
Never underestimate the predictability of stupidity.
A cloaked man sat at a table lone, working with his distiller, throwing what seemed random ingredients in. BOOM There was an explosion over the distiller. "Whoops, too many black pearls," the man confessed, as he patted out the flames amongst his robes. "Perhaps some more garlic, nightshade, and a little less pearls," he commented to himself. BOOM A larger explosion engulfed the table. "Whoops..." he said again. "Hmm maybe some spiders silk, sulfur, obsidian and sulfurous ash." He tossed the ingredients into a new batch. An eerie purple glow surrounded the distiller this time. "Finally, I got a working potion, now the only problem is, its the wrong one...." he said, somewhat disturbed. The man made a brand new batch, and this time threw in some peppermint along with all the other ingredients. KABOOM There was a gargantuan large explosion. "Finally ! The right potion. Now to make more of it, he quickly bottled up the warm purple liquid into a large keg. He placed a few flasks and bottles onto the table next to the keg. The bartender finally arrived at the table, but before he delievered the drinks, he checked to make sure the cloaked man wasnt looking, and inched towards the keg and a bottle. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, you'll be missing an arm or two if you drop it. Most likely your whole body," commented the cloaked man, as if he could sense the bartender. "The bartender quickly read the label on the keg, it was marked,
'Ultimate Explosions: Property of Stephant the Archmage'. He decided not to touch it, it sounded quite too dangerous for his liking. Stephant, now uncloaked, began working on more potions, this time not explosion, as he had a fear he might blow the tavern up.
~"Never look back at your
past, but at the future that
Captain Nathaniel Stephant
Pippin walked into the bar drank a keg of beer stumbled out the door threw up came back inside and did the prosse again.
Ellie was now sitting in one of the spare tables the tavern offered. She smiled shyly to herself at the warmth the room provided her with and after years of living on the street she appreciated the small things a little shelter could provide.
She couldn’t drink but to Ellie this didn’t matter. She wasn’t used to the little luxuries that others abused and therefore it didn’t depress her. She sat and watched with increasing interest as the people of the inn went about their lives.
She intently watched people who gave her even the slightest sign of noticing her presence. It actually amazed her that she didn’t arouse more attention with her appearance. She was very easily younger than the rest and was so obviously not from around there. She wore tattered clothing and showed that she hadn’t bathed in quiet awhile. However Ellie didn’t truly desire to be the center of attention as the young girl knew the value of secrecy.
For now her plans were simply to observe and appreciate the safety this normally daunting place provided her with.
Rhemi moved round the fire, danceing and singing telling a story of the fire and the forest, enchanting every body near him in a trance.
When he finished Rhemi collapsed on the ground exhausted.
All the people of the clan clapping.
(This message has been edited by Rhemi (edited 06-20-2003).)
Pyrus was still in limited conversation with "Dana", when a few cloaked figures approached him.
"Good evening," one of them said.
"Good evening," Pyrus replied.
"May I ask your name?" the same one asked.
"The name's Pyrus, former student of Fanatic."
"Yes, well, nice to meet you, I'm sure. Weren't you with another man? Did you by any chance catch his name?"
"Yes, he--" Pyrus paused a moment. If you meet an overly curious elf... "Well, crap," he muttered to himself, and took off at a dead run, out the tavern, the cloaked figures following swiftly behind.
It was a mad dash to the north part of town, and at one point, he rounded a corner, and, seeing an outfitting shop, ducked inside.
Stumbling around the corner, the cloaked figures stopped to find that Pyrus was nowhere in sight.
"He's fast," one of them said.
"He probably just took a different turn and hid somewhere," the other speculated.
"Then let's split up and find him."
"Right. We meet back here in five minutes."
Four minutes later, Pyrus stepped out of the shop with a new leather armor, boots, and gloves, and a comb for his unruly hair. He looked around to see if the cloaked strangers were anywhere near, and, not seeing them, set off for the Ratlizard Pub and Eatery. It seemed his search for his master's friends would have to be postponed.
Will the real God please stand up?
Troyen last edited by
"What was that all about?" Avatara asked Dana, who didn't seem to understand. "Right, I'll be with you in a minute." Avatara continued onward, balancing the tray of drinks and serving out orders to those that requested them. He kept an eye on Stephant, explosions didn't bother him, but others could get hurt - though Stephant seemed to have moved on to mixing other things.
Someone was singing and dancing around the fire, others were regretting drinking too much, and that smell he thought he'd gotten rid of was still lingering. On the bright side, business seemed to be picking up, Talos would be pleased - he should be back any day now.
Avatara stopped at the table of a young girl, in somewhat outdated clothing, who was watching the tavern with detatched interest. "Can I get you something?"
"What we do not know, we cannot begin to understand."
Ooc: i am new to this so...could use some help... oh and have any of you read The Saga of Recluce? Bic:
Another stranger walked through the door. He was in a black cloak(very common here) but did not have the hood on. The black cloaked figure seemed to have sliver hair. He walked to one of the very few remaining tables and sat, and pulled out a book that looked to be old. He began reading untill a bartender came over and asked what he wanted to drink.
"Water if you have any, if not then nothing."
"Okay." replied the bartender.
The bartender quickly came back and handed the young man a glass of water. The figure pays with his small amount of oboloi, then contiunes reading the gray covered book....
(This message has been edited by Dark Jet (edited 06-22-2003).)
(This message has been edited by Dark Jet (edited 06-22-2003).)
Dug Rockbottom was short for a dwarf. However, with one foot of very short, butt-kicking force, he slammed open the door, and this heftily small miner stomped in and pulled himself up on a barstool. The elves in the tavern were now chuckling, as they were six times his height. When the dwarf's companion entered, all chuckling stopped. Ghorrtens were large, lanky cave beasts. This Ghorrten was especially tall, reaching an awesome nine feet, eight inches, and was especially lanky. It walked as most Ghorrtens did while not mining, its feet and hands retracted into its clothes-like, pale, seldane-colored skin. Its cones where its hands and feet would have been clanked on the floor in the silent tavern. It sat down on a bar stool, next to Dug. "Sunrise Hell." She ordered. Dug thought in contemplation for a moment, and settled on a Undine Whiskey. Seeing that the pair was here to drink, rather than cause trouble or start some hair-brained quest, the tavern erupted back into conversation.
"Will we be safe here, Dug?"
"Naytia, must I remind you that we were fine in Dhârkaln. We left because the mines were getting close to the magma flow. Only you have senses that could detect that, and no one cares. Mining is their life."
"Dug, I meant the flow. When they tap it, it will come surging out in a great force. If it blasts, who knows how far it will fly or flow or fall? I don't want to be burnt to a crisp. Heat is bad for us Ghorrtens."
"Don't worry, Naytia. There'll be no more mining for us. We worked long enough to have the treasure to stay here for an eternity." Now thinking of economics, the clever dwarf did some calcualtions. "Apparently, they are far from the motherlode, and gain most of their money from trade. As long as we're safe about it, we have sufficient funds for quite a while. Gold has much more value here. Tomorrow, I suggest that we go to the mint and trade the gold, so as not to rise suspicion, and I also suggest that you carry all the valubles in your skin. No one mugs a ten foot tall Ghorrten and lives." They chuckled over their drinks, and their conversations carried off into the night.
He who will not reason, is a bigot; he who cannot is a fool; and he who dares not, is a slave. -William Drummond
Ambrosia Beta Tester!