The Tavern

[hopper]

She stepped into the muggy air of the tavern soon after the diseased man, the door swinging shut behind her. She sauntered behind the man, a content smile on her face as she made her way towards the bar counter. It wasn't until she'd sat down that she noticed the knife-flinger, his head pressed against the stained wood of the bar counter with a miserable countenance about him. Scooting a few stools over, she tapped him on his left shoulder, quickly retracting her hand around to his right side with an impish grin. 
"Hiya! Looks like you got started without me. Don't feel too bad, I didn't have to pay for my first round."
She plonked the almost-empty bottle of wine on the bar top beside the boy. 
"Hope you're not too deep in your cups just yet, otherwise I'm gonna have to play catchup."
She was already ogling the rows of bottles behind Hook, her eyes scanning the various liquors and brews with an all but rapturous look on her face. Retrieving a few grimy coins from her pouch she heaped them on the counter and slammed her palm a few times, when Hook glanced her way she pointed towards a large squarish bottle half-filled with a dark brown liquid. The bottle and a pair of shot glasses were promptly handed over, and Winnifred wasted no time in pouring a set of shots for the two. 

[relentless]

"Woah Woah Woah!"
Duval piped up behind them, sauntering behind with hands in pockets and movement anxious. Though the mans facial expression seemed to betray the anxious movement, a wide grin and twinkling eyes on his face. He could already smell a friendship coming his way, if he played his cards right.

"Oi Hook, 'nother shot glass mate!"
Duval said toward him with a loud voice, peaking over using his tiptoes before he slipped in on the left side of Wynne, pressing his hands against the hard, solid wood of the counter. His shot glass would arrive soon enough, being planted right in front of him with passing grace.

"Starting the celebration without me hmm?"
Duval drawled on with a lasting tease toward the two, finger waggling toward the bottle.
"Tis fine, would've done the same. Aye, aye... Alright! Fill us up, chum and chum!"
Duval waggled his finger toward the bottle, voicing out his opinion as he gripped onto his shot glass and extended it forward a tad, hoping one of then would be generous enough to comply.

[black379]

Jeanne Luc raised his head, blinking groggily at the girl in the stool beside him. A smile quickly formed on his face and his drunken haze cleared somewhat. Leaning his elbow on the counter, the jester rested his chin in his hand. "Whinny! I thought you was gone."

The man in the coat butted in, and Jeanne shrank further inside himself. Apparently he was a new friend of Winifred's, the question was: how friendly? Regardless, when the shots were poured, he promptly snatched it up to clink against Wynne's own glass. "Wwhat we drinkin to?"

With a slurred giggle, the boy looked Duval up and down. But the figure in the corner of her eye caught her attention.

-

Griswold sidled around them to stand behind the musician, seeing as she and Duval had already taken their place on either side of Jeanne Luc. It wasn't as though he expected to drink with them anyways. He wasn't keen on removing his mask, currently. "I will be around."

[hopper]

“Pfffft, I wouldn't just walk off without you, Jeanne!”
She assured the boy, picking up the large bottle and pouring the man on her left a shot, the smooth brown liquid brooding in the cup, smoky like a campfire. She poured another for herself and offered Duval a cheeky grin before holding the drink aloft
“Cheers! To not dying!”
She proceeded to pour the whole thing down her throat in one smooth motion. She slammed the cup back on the bar top with a jolly smile, reaching for the bottle again when she heard the leper’s discontented murmur from behind her. She sat straight up and then bended over backwards to stare at Griswold wide-eyed.
“What? No! We just went through a tonne of trouble to get you! There’s no way I’m gonna let you wander off again tinman.”

She smiled, sitting back up and spinning around on her stool to survey the bar for a table they could all occupy. Eventually she spied one, pressed into the corner, a booth. She pointed at it with one pale finger, which seemed especially pallid in the wavery light of the bar, even at noon.
“There, we should sit there!”
She tugged on Jeanne’s arm to get him to look towards the indicated booth. Standing from her stool, she began to coax Jeanne to do the same.

[relentless]

"Ay, Cheers to..."
Duval voice rose and faltered as the leper grew uncomfortable, detecting a mild amount of rejection. Of course, Duval didn't really mind if he left, since he'd rather not have his drink filled with leprosy shit if he were to sneeze. But for the sake of keeping things jovial...

"Oi, come on Faceless, we all fought and are... exhausted."
He let the comment hang dryly, pausing for a moment before clearing his throat and taking a couple steps toward the booth. But as he moved, he tapped the leper twice on the shoulder with a lone index finger.

"Hey, worst thing you could body do is brood over what's happened."
Duval whispered to Griswald, patting him on the shoulder with a manly pat before he looked back and nodded toward the booth, then downing his shotglass with a quick chug before smiling at Wynne and jeanne with both eyebrows raised.
"Come! Beat to not let your drink get warm, hm?"
Duval shot at then rhetorically, a click of his tongue permitting through before he sauntered off toward the booth she had pointed at.

[rumsztyk]

And it began.

Milo visibly shrunk at the verbal reprimand. It was almost instantaneous, as soon as Francois "tsk'd".

"Sorry!" He cried in hushed voice, wiping his hands into the closest available thing - a handkerchief on the table.

The next question got him off guard and only amplified his seemingly unjustified terror. For he had no idea what the word meant.

"D-don't know..."

[black379]

The boy swiftly tossed back the shot, and hopped up from his stool. Not so much for Winifred's urging, but to greet the leper before he could lumber away. Jeanne scurried up behind him and threw her arms around his barrel of a chest. "'Msorry Gris. Shouln'ta run off..."

The metal-faced man simply sighed and waved his hand dismissively. It would've been unwise to dismiss any sort of courtesy, lest they remain unwanted and outcast. So he began towards the booth table as well, dragging Jeanne Luc with him as her arms were tied about his chest.

"Wait... A fight? What's 'appened?" The juggler cocked his head, eyes widening as he spotted the wounds on Winifred's legs and arm. His drunkenness had blinded him to their injury until now.

[rumsztyk]

In comes Jowita, two seemingly heavy bundles of various bags, backpacks and suitcases dragged in with her. The woman scans the room briefly before moving straight towards Hook. Two loud thuds reverberate loudly enough to pierce the ambient Tavern noise.

Her hands, now free, rub against each other. "Show me your best room." Jowita demanded from the bartender, raising her head high.

[Kidney]

Hugo moved again, landing into a chair, strumming the lute quietly. He turned away from the entering of the many people, some injured. He looked down, realizing he had not played in a bit, and strummed into a quicker tune. 
He began a folk song, Smoke's influence guiding his nervous fingers. He began to hum, this time more to himself, but still the strings' sounds still made their way around. His foot tapped for some ringing effect, and he continued, being very bad at being inconspicuous.

[Unter]

Dec 14, 2017 15:48:33 GMT -8 rumsztyk said:

And it began.

Milo visibly shrunk at the verbal reprimand. It was almost instantaneous, as soon as Francois "tsk'd".

"Sorry!" He cried in hushed voice, wiping his hands into the closest available thing - a handkerchief on the table.

The next question got him off guard and only amplified his seemingly unjustified terror. For he had no idea what the word meant.

"D-don't know..."

Francois wasn't really pleased by the answer.
"You... you don't know? You really haven't heard of the deeds of Arthur, Percival or even the brave knight Roland ?"
He shook his head. Maybe this whole squire thing wasn't his best idea after all. 
The boy was all shaky now, as if he thought Francois might hit him.
"Maybe... maybe I ask too much of you."

[Outisakanobody]

Tazia had been keeping a low profile for a while now, mostly keeping to herself and tending to her personal business. But now she was craving some company and excitement, so she entered the tavern and looked around, before moving to the bar to have a seat.

[hopper]

Winnifred followed the boy’s gaze down to her cuts and winced upon noticing them again. Up until then they had resided comfortably in the back of her head as a dull ache she could reliably ignore, but now looking at them again, still oozing dark blood into her pants, the dull ache came roaring forward and she bit her lip hard to stop from gasping. She forced her hands not to curl into tight balls, a certain look of shock and embarrassment as if she’d been caught fighting again by her mother. The shame came in quickly on its heels and she tuned so the wounds were not so easily visible.
“Pfffft, n-nothing big. Just a, uh, well a scuffle outside you see. That’s all.”
She forced a smile and prayed that Jeanne was drunk enough that he wouldn't notice how forced it looked, and that the rest of their party would back up her story. The last thing she needed was Jeanne panicking over a few cuts and scrapes. To be fair, those cuts and scrapes did hurt rather a lot. It was with relief that she took a seat at the booth, pressing herself into the far corner and reclining, she let out a small sigh of relief under her breath.

[relentless]

"Oh aye, aye. Few cultist bastards and all that, though we're all fine and dandy."
Duval voiced outward Jeanne with a wave of his hand, before he seated himself beside Wynne with a gentle slick movement as he moved in and sat down beside her, right elbow pressing into the elbow whilst his left hand moved against the wooden grain of the table. The bottle that had been held in his right hand, made a steady descent to the middle of the table.
"But listen boys and girls.."
Duval paused for a moment, tipping the bottle over his own shot glass and filling it up, before moving it toward the other half of the table where Jeanne and Griswald would most likely sit, holding the shotglass against the table with index finger tapping along the rim.

"Time for celebration, no? Fought the good fight, came out on top since the bastards didn't get a chance to nail us. So!"
Duval took his drink with a quiver in his voice occuring halfway through the sentence, tapping the base of his shot glass twice against the table, cocking his head at Wynne and shrugging.
"Tis time for my own little toast, no?"
Duval said toward her with jestful intent, raising his eyebrows toward her before motioning toward the rest of their drinks.

"Glad we all, made it to the drink in the end. Oh, but a bit of steak would be absolutely dashing! Hehe, cheers!"
Duval piped up with potent, yet shaky vibrations in his tone of speech, directing his voice toward those closest to him. He slammed the drink down his throat as if he were attending a rather brash and bombastic noble party, placing the shotglass back down and shaking his head from side to side performing raspberries with his mouth.
"Phew! That kicks hard, lights arsehole!"
Duval exclaimed as he patted himself on the chest lightly with a free hand.

[Kidney]

Hugo quietly strummed, listening in on the conversation these people were having. He stood up, letting out an intentionally loud harrumph. 

He strummed, a giggle building as Hugo sighed deep inside his own head. 

Smoke began to strum a little faster, leaping towards the front of the room. He realized he could not have caught their attention very long, so perhaps a song would allow interest to build. So, he began to pluck a few high strings in a set pattern.

1 2, 123, 12, 1 1 2, 123.

He added onto this another layer, his fingers masterfully plucking and in-between the beginning noises, he strummed across the strings, the low tones blending into the high plucks.

He did not accompany this with words, but instead laughed and giggled to himself quietly, allowing the slowish melody to pick up pace to Smoke's idea of what background music for this place would be.

[Outisakanobody]

Tazia turned to the minstrel plucking away and frowned. Jesters like him were what gave respectable musicians like herself a bad name. Even if his performance was fine, he was still laughing like a fool. "Wind up in a padded room at that rate." she mutters as she looks around the room the gauge the reaction of the meager crowd.