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inside of the Red Rooster Inn
evening, sun just set
Arnus, Slain (Verridith), Esme, Rem (Dark), Oinari, Balthazar (Fyfer), Kari, Raff (JPG), Cordella, Dorah (Nechesa)
Typical custom had bar patrons going to a tavern or inn to get drunk. So, to have a dragon arrive already tipsy might've been quite a sight to see, if the barkeep and common patrons weren't quite familiar with Oinari, and made way for the sinewy dragon to make his way to the bar without missing a beat.
The fox-like dragon made his way to the bar, swaying slightly, and found a barrel of fine ale already waiting for him. "Ya al'ays know wha' I'm after," he slurred, leaning against the bar and offering Baron a pleased smile. He took the barrel, and padded slowly to curl up near the fireplace. He took a long swallow from the barrel, downing half its contents, then sighed happily. Already another barel was being rolled towards him by a barmaid.
Cordella was a homebird - there was no denying it. Though the siren could be commissioned to go on long journeys find information, there was no place like home for her, and she would rarely leave her cave unless it was absolutely necessary. Even her way of working meant that she stayed put. Clients came to her.
Sometimes, though, she liked to come out and do something different. Occasional drinking typically provided a nice change. Already pleasantly tipsy, the siren's nose and cheeks were rosy pink, and she was humming a soft tune to herself a little dizzily. She rested her chin in her palm with a sleepy look on her face, gazing around at all the other tavern attendees, and it wasn't long before her lilac eyes were drawn to the door, pulled there by the sound of a dragon stumbling in. Quite curious it was to see a dragon in a place like this. Cordella's eyes idled on him as he curled up like a giant kitten, accompanied by a whole barrel of drink.
Across the tavern sat a much less graceful and much more loud patron. Having had a few drinks already and finding herself to be somewhat of a lightweight, Dorah was challenging a large, burly orc to a drinking contest.
"I could drink waaay more'n yoouu, Muscles!" she taunted, tripping over her own words a little as the alcohol addled her brain. The orc she had challenged snorted his amusement, and elbowed his friend, who grinned back at him.
"Y'reckon do yer, little lady?" he asked. "Alrigh' then. First round on me."
Unlike Dorah, the orc had the foresight (and sobriety) to know where the mimic's challenge was going.
The angel was exhausted. Every single other member of her little squad knew it. And so, two of the other members of the Vystrian Knights had essentially dragged her along to the bar in order to kick back and relax.
Of course, she never would allow herself to relax. Not without a little medicinal help from their little friend Mr. Alche Haw.
A burly man with a fiery orange beard had his arm around the petite angel's shoulders, who looked as cross as she could possibly be - brow furrowed, white wings drawn in tight, cloudy-gray blue eyes as calamitous as the worst of storms in Evylon.
Meanwhile, a tall, lanky, pale-skinned man in a heavy cloak entered shortly behind, eyes shifting about warily, before backing away and allowing for his own guest to enter. In contrast to the angel ahead of him, he seemed to enter with a certain fluid grace. The clock would tell if that grace would abandon him at the altar of the bottle known as the Red Rooster Inn.
Chimaera - Flesh Golem - Little Wordy Bastard of an Artificial Life Form
Icarath - N'Vaen Demon - High Fantasy Dr. Satan Frankenstein
Bikks and Wedgel - Orc and Goblin - The Dumbass Dynamic Duo
Sedna - Minotaur - Bull-Headed Gladiatrix
Kari - Avian - Savior-Complex Heroine Wannabe
"Oh c'mon kid, live a little! Haven't you ever had fun? C'mon, man!"
"Slain, I really don't th-"
"You're an elven prince, you're allowed to get drunk every once in a while. It's what princes do!"
"But... I-I don't-"
"Ayyy Baron, deliver the booze, bro! This kid needs a taste of life!"
The white dragon behind the counter smirked as Slain curled an arm around the young elf, waving a mug around with the other. The big half-dragon towered over his smaller friend, despite Arnus being nearly six feet tall himself. He was covered in silver scales, humanoid in stance, with long black horns and a mane of hueless white. His eyes, set in a draconic face - that was grinning widely, all of his sharp teeth exposed - were a deep crimson. Matching that, he wore a loose red trenchcoat and some well-worn black breeches, along with a necklace that held two small silver plates that glinted from his bare chest.
Arnus, looking entirely lost and rather embarrassed, was a young man of elven heritage. His skin was pale, but lightly tanned, and his eyes were a silvery blue. Light, almost imperceptible scars swirled around those eyes, only hinted at in certain lights; his hair was rather unkempt and a light, sandy blond. He wore ranger's clothes in greens and blacks, and a glimmering golden scale glittered from around his neck.
"I'll get the lad one, indeed," Baron said gleefully. He eyed the newcomers with a wide grin, and offered them seats with a swing of his tail. "Come one, come all! Drinks are on me tonight! Sit round the fire and share your tales - all are welcome in the Red Rooster tonight!"