The Tavern

[Kidney]

Hugo plucked, and soon his voice kicked up again, the black and brown chorus settling as rowdiness took over for a mere moment. Hugo would have none of that mindless yelling, "They danced and they spun up to the fair!" He clicked his heels together again, ringing out his bells as he began to strut towards the person who so quickly latched to him. " 'Oh look my friend! There's a maiden here!' "
He plucked high, the tavern folks singing and moving, much to the dismay of the red-faced bartender. He came close now, towards the beaded and pleasant-voiced partner in this collection of note and word. His face was mostly obscured by the light blue mask, the mask of comedy hid his facial burns well, but now this close she would see his burned neck scarring.  He got quieter as he approached her, not wanting to hurt her ears. "He smelled the scent, in the maiden's hair, she was so sweet and pure and fair!" 
He spun now, back to back with the partner. "He sniffed the air and smelled it there, the maiden's here with honey in her hair"
He ran now, away from her, increasing his volume and jumping to the surface of a table slick with spilled ale. He kicked the liquid around, before suddenly snapping his legs together and slinging his lute across his shoulderblades. He brought his gloved hands together like a pious nun, and increased his pitch, bringing his voice to his head. "He is a hairy bear, he wants to come to the fair! I am a maiden fair, with honey in my hair and he is a hairy bear!" He raised his chin too high for seriousness, a comedic tone entering his voice, " And he is a dancing bear! And i'm a maid! I'm pure and fair! I'll never dance with a hairy bear."
He belted his voice out, a high singing voice made for a solo. He now lowered his shoulders, pulling his lute out again. He reached his head back, spitting the pick out, catching it in his hand. So, he brought his hand up, and began to strum with a wild vigor, the Tavern became even rowdier. "He lifted her high up into the air! She called for a knight but he's a bear, all black and brown and covered in hair! She kicked and wailed, the maid so fair! He licked the honey from her hair!"

[hopper]

What a performer he was! She grinned wide at his comical act, and for the brief moment when he drew near, she leaned forward and brushed her lips against the nose of the mask, shooting the man a devilish smile as he retreated. Then, without missing a beat, she turned and went the opposite way towards the bar. With dramatic flair she leaped up onto the wood ledge, nimbly navigating between the drinks of the tavern-goers and only spilling one or two on purpose. When she reached the edge of the bar she jumped from it to a nearby table, causing a shout to go up from the people sitting there. She crouched down low and with a mischievous tone whisper-sang
"He's a bear! A bear! All black and brown and covered with hair! I can't dance with him I'm a maiden fair!"
And as the next part of the song rose so did she, bounding upwards and off the table, and landing back down on the floor with a 'thump!' The tingling was now a great warmth spreading through the rest of her, like coming into a war house from a cold day, it was a feeling she would kill for. Surely the barman was more than displeased with their antics, that of the two jesters, but what was best in life if not to laugh and make merry? And if one could hamper a few stick-in-the-muds along the way then truly it was meant to be. Capering around the floor, she ceased her playing long enough to take what appeared to be a roast rabbit from someone's plate, with a triumphant  smile she thrust it into the air and cheered 
"This one's fah you, Jack!"
and took a large bite, savoring the warm rich flavors that coursed over her tongue. Drippings ran down her chin and she stopped long enough only to toss the rabbit back and wipe the mess away before continuing her playing, after all, fun was hungry work. 

[relentless]

Aug 11, 2017 16:39:55 GMT -8 rumsztyk said:

"Bloody hell, you devil! And here I thought I'd never hear anything more vile after my time in the army." George shook his head, laughing, taking another swig of alcohol. He scouted the Tavern, laid back and half-drunk. "Mmm, let's see... I'll let you know I got standards, pretty high. Unless I just wanna bed a wench." He snorted.

He half-winced as there weren't many women in the Tavern to rest his eyes on. Looks like they had to bide their time. Worst case, he'd just pay a visit to the Brothel.

"Pft, standards? What standard could you possibly have in a place of ghouls and cutthroats? Unless you're gunning for the more exotic kind? The dangerous sorts?"
Duval hummed in a teasing manner, scotching a bit to the left and near the murky window, watching with a curious eye as the injured adventurers waddled past.

"May I pose a question? Why on earth did you take the warden job? Tons of gold to be made out on expeditions., not to mention the thrill of the hunt, no?"
Duval says without looking at him, swirling his drink within his glass briefly, before looking st George with a smirk. He waggled a finger at him, hunching over a little as he eyed him.

"It's one hell of a ride. If you know your cards, you can walk outta here free and.."
He paused, briefly, the same waft of momentary realisation kicked in, a lapse of bad memories shivered across his face, his smile quivering briefly before it faltered eventually.

"..You know..."
Duval mumbles thoughtfully, his tone less jokey now and more serious, to an extent. He leaned back against the booth, crossing his arms and staring blankly at the tabletop before glancing up at George.

"I never asked why you came here, or I forgot... but at any rate, why did you come here? You're a military man, no? I can see it in your eyes, I've seen it all before when I wasn't in this place. You're got a fire, despite being in your twenties. So, why would someone like you venture 'ere? You get wounded in a fight or something?"
Duval questioned as he took another sip, this time a lot slower as he felt his petals beginning to open up, revealing a more honest side to him.

[The Carrying Blade]

"Thanks! I don't take up much either so that's a plus." Ellie said cheerfully, removing her ring once again and setting it on the table. She then moved to lay down and face away from Courcy as well before trying to fall asleep.

[Kidney]

Hugo leaped from the table, landing hard. He shot up, strumming a chord on the higher notes, but continuing with another chord down. "She kicked and wailed! The maid so fair, he licked the honey from her hair!" He trotted around, playing faster and faster. "She sighed and squealed and kicked the air, My bear she sang! My bear so fair!"  
His bells rang, and his strings whined their tones, "And off they went, from here to there,  the bear and the maiden fair."
He fell to his knees, hoorays and encores coming from the crowd as Hugo breathed heavy. He looked down, his hands shaking, and now he slipped his pick into his glove. He got up, kicking his legs and yawning. Now, he walked towards the bar, waving his arm towards the lot of tavern-goers and sitting down. He reached behind his chestpeice, pulling forth a small pouch, pulling forth gold to purchase a drink. "Wine."
He rubbed his neck, coughing as he was brought his wine, which he now sipped. It was decent, and even then all Hugo needed was a drink. He slung his lute across his back, and grabbed his mask, pulling right and now to his half mask.

[hopper]

As the song came to an end, she bowed so low her nose brushed the floor, just as the ring leader had taught her. Winifred couldn't help but feel just the tiniest bit disappointed, then again, she always felt that way after the dancing and singing had ended, when people reverted to their dull, 'normal' selves instead of the rowdy and playful animals they had the ability to become. It was odd, too, how quickly the change occurred, from laughing and singing and stomping their feet one moment back to grumbling and drinking the next. It made her glad for the gifts of Jack, that for her the play never necessarily ended, it could continue on ad-nauseum, but what was a play with only one actor? Perhaps she could find a few more around, and the best place she could think to start would be with her fellow fool, a man she had yet to learn the name of and yet felt an immediate attraction. Sauntering over to the man, she took seat down next to him and reached into her sleeves, removing a roll, and offered it him with a grin.
"Yer quite the singer, had 'em eating from your hand you did."

[Kidney]

Hugo was pleasantly sipping, when suddenly the beaded woman sat beside him. He snickered, taking the roll and holding it up to his nose. "Eggs, milk, flour." He took a peice off with his fingers, placing it into his mouth and nodding, it was good.
His neck ruffle was jostled as he looked towards the woman, brown eyes staring. "You are very good, at singing, I mean. The Bear and Maiden Fair is better for your tone and vocal structure. I don't think it's meant for me." He looked again at the roll, "Thank you."
He sipped again, savoring the wine in his mouth. He breathed through his nose, swallowing it with an audible gulp before taking another bite. "If you would allow me, i'll tell you something about this." He took another sip, wetting his throat. "Bread is simple, eggs, milk and flour. But, it's done in many ways. Such is song, words and notes, but it is the collection of these, 'the recipe if you will. You add things, remove others, eventually you are left with a song for the ages. Such is why I shortened The Bear, I could see them, they wanted to finish it. Fill it with the words Ser Martin had originally made it with. I change the notes, I shorten the song. Perhaps the full melody is for you to sing, not I. So, no, I did not dazzle the crowd. Perhaps they will eat from your hand when you sing it." He had been pointing to the patrons, now back to their activities, but he knew they wanted more. He took a much larger drink of the wine, washing down the roll, only half eaten. "But, I am only a fool. How could my opinions apply to another's?"
He winked now, "Unfortunately I have only prepared two songs for those of tavern, my others are of a different genre." He now finished his wine, setting the cup down and complimenting the bartender's specific way of cleaning the chalice. "Oo, you twist around the cup without moving your hand? That's a very lazy, yet ingenious way of cleaning."
He now looked back at the woman, pointing, giggling, "He's a smart one, although the iron hand doesn't exactly help his case."
He now put his chin in his hands, leaning over the bar, but head turned at the woman.  

[hopper]

She hummed thoughtfully, studying the man, his mannerisms. He was an odd one to be sure, but all the best sort of people were she supposed. Her fingers itched to pull up his mask, to reveal what his beneath, but she knew it would likely ruin her reputation with the man as so her hands stayed clasped around the ill-gotten roll.
"But a metal hand must be good in a fight, if not for much else, eh Hooky?"
She gave the barman a cheeky grin who only glared in response. Winifred snorted in amusement before turning back to her erstwhile companion.
"You have a named, mystery man?"

[Kidney]

Hugo took another bite of the roll, chewing it thoroughly, to the consistency of applesauce before swallowing it. He tapped his fingers against the wood, and set the roll down in front of the woman. He rose to straighten his back, rubbing his lower half of his face with the back of his hand. "It depends, the man who arrived in this Hamlet is one different than the one who lived before learning of it." He chuckled, shaking his head as he slapped his palms against the wood in fast succession. "Hugo lived before the mask, before the lute training. Smoke lived after, he's the one who sings. But then again I guess we both lived." He looked down now, before chuckling and getting up. "A man cannot remember his past, for the horrid things that happened there jeopardize his fragile future, all I have is song. The songs I know build a facade, some rile the crowd, and others are odes to a man's past. For I will not return there."
He turned now, smiling, "You're good, you know, at singing."
He moved slowly, pulling his lute to his hands, plucking a low string, pulling a stool alongside him. He moved to the front of the room, sitting upon it, slinging his leg over his other.  He plucked further strings, light notes, strong, but sad.
"I am the last of the giants. My people are gone from the earth."
The song was new, written by Hugo Smonk, and unfamiliar to anyone. But not done with only two lines, no no no, it had to be finished. "The last of the great smoke giants, who ruled o'er the world at my birth."

[Kidney]

A boot to the head, a club to the ankle. A dagger to the back, a club to the same ankle. Pain, in the heel. 
Clance jolted awake, sweat covered his brow and his brace strung like a swarm of bees. He yelped as he pulled his leg from beneath the warm embrace of his blankets, and the heel hit the wood. A growl came from him, the sound of cog grinding with another as he hobbled to his briefs. Soon, with another growl and suppressed scream, he had successfully put on pants and boots. Now, he slung on his shirt, grabbing the stiff jacket he carried with him, buttoning it up and grabbing his tools. Two in the sleeves, two in the boots, two in the pockets. One sheathed in the groin.
He rushed to the door, unlocking it after relatively four hours sleep, and stumbled downstairs. The thin pole of a thief stumbled to a table, thankfully filled with asleep drunkards. He sat down in one of the two open seats, scratching his stubble before surveying the Tavern. Music now played in the front of the room, and it helped divert attention from himself, being the tallest person in the room. He looked, for anyone worth looking at.

[Shinzon]

Slowly going down the stairs, Maria felt like she was older, and by *years*. She had found a semi-efficient method to deal with the humiliation, the shame and the pain of her predicament; focusing every point of her mind on something absolutely different, detaching herself from reality. Most clients were not going to let it pass however, and were prompt enough to bring her back to reality. Still, it worked when they were too careless to focus on her lack of reaction, and it was good enough for her.

Collecting her pay, she stuffed the pouch in her robes, whom she hurriedly put back on, giving back the "piece" with one last glance at the the harlots, some of them going to collapse on their beds elsewhere, most of the others getting their orders of alcohol ready. Refusing a glass of absinthe, she knew the backdoor to be locked by now, and so she had to go through the main part of the tavern, looking down at the floor, striding past the people rapidly, her cheeks reddened by shame.

As soon as she stepped out of the building, she inhaled deeply, closed her eyes, and turned her gaze toward the Abbey. She needed peace, she needed a familiar environment - and so she went.

[Maria leaves the Tavern for the Abbey.]

[hopper]

She didn't know the song, but she could get the gist. Silently she watched the man, brow furrowed as he played. She never liked sad songs, they made her belly feel strange and jittery, like she'd eaten something she disagreed with. She just managed to keep a grimace from her face as the singing continued on, but surely her face couldn't be taken as any other but one of discomfort. Gripping the roll harder, she brought it to her mouth and took a bite, if only to give herself a distraction. The man, Hugo, or smoke, or whoever he really was, surely took a less devil-may-care attitude than she. Perhaps he wasn't fit for service in Jack's name, if all his songs were this sad. Music was meant for joy, for entertainment or at least to dance to, not this somber dirge the man produced. It was a somewhat disconcerting change, from joy to solemnity, she wasn't use to the shift. Deciding that maybe she'd best in at least trying to talk to the man she cleared her throat and spoke
"So bardship isn't your native trade then?"
She asked.

[Kidney]

He brought his hand to his face, pulling it to the side, to the mask of tragedy. "Oh. The smallfolk have stolen my forests, they've stolen my rivers and my hills." 
His hands grazed the strings, his fingers plucked at the strings, it was masterful. A self-taught man showing up every bard he had ever encounter, whether the others listening agreed, well, that was up to them. "And they've built a great wall through my valleys, and fished all the fish from my rills." His fingers graced the neck of the lute, and now, she could see. The tears of a man, streaming down the cheeks of a deep blue porcelain mask. "In stone halls they burn their great fires, in stone halls they forge their sharp spears." 
He pulled his strings down, low notes, deep. "Whilst I walk alone in the knolls, with no true companion but tears."

[hopper]

Winifred grit her teeth, gripping the roll so hard it was crushed in her hand she turned her head away to stare rigidly at the bar. Anyone could tell the woman was not nearly as relaxed as she was mere moments again. Where was the laughter from this? Where was the frenetic thrill that made one's abdomen hum and trill with energy, with excitement? How could anyone bear this awful, slow tone? She gripped the head of her mandolin, and fought the impulse to burst out with her own song, something, anything else to counter this trudging tune. Distantly, memories sat heavily in her brain, of another world too keenly reminiscent of this one. She could see herself as a child, sitting on a small stool in the cold corners of an old, musty bar. Another man, much the same in posture as the one before her current self, mournfully plucking at a guitar as a wailing song of some lost love drifted from his frowning lips. Suddenly, back in the present she stood up and backed away, unable to take her eyes from Smoke, clutching at the bar.
"Ma-maybe give that a rest, eh?"
She almost pleaded.

[Kidney]

Hugo continued, his fingers plucking, slow, and spread wide. He had nothing but vocals to rely on, and his tone brought forth a tone, one that some patrons had drawn their eyes to. "They hunt me with dogs in the daylight, they hunt me with torches by night." He was slow, methodical, morose. The wood near his belled feet grew darker, and now his mask grew damp. "For these men who are small can never stand tall,
whilst giants still walk in the light."
He strummed his strings with his ring finger,  " I am the last of the giants,
 so learn well the words of my song. For when I am gone, the singing will fade and the silence will last long and long."
With that, he strummed all of his strings again, bringing the song to a close.