Satiating One's Thirst at the Nether's Gate (Chyril 26th, TT

[Craghley]

Nether's Gate stands just across the way from the Provost Office, and is near enough to the portal and large enough compared with the other, scant dwellings to dominate the newly formed and mutable skyline somewhat. Though only a mere three stories tall this is more than enough to dwarf the other buildings in its shadow, and it is wider and more strongly built than many of the surrounding homes - built along similar lines to the Provost Office itself in choosing practicality over aesthetic appearance. Two large firepots sit on either side of the wide door and, lit at night, create a welcoming glow to tempt passersby into the interior.

Inside, the shabby tavern is surprisingly clean and well lit, the floor strewn with clean straw among the polished but worn wooden tables and chairs. There is a long, wooden bar that dominates one wall of the place, though it is the most basic of things and is as practical and wooden as most of the rest of the place.

Beyond the main room, the 'Gate, as it's fondly known by much of the Pax Honestus, hosts a number of more intimate delights than mere beverages can provide. For not only is Nether's Gate a tavern, entertainment hall and gathering place for all, it also serves as a brothel. Upstairs one could hear the sound of giggling and running feet. The girls of the Nether's Gate knew how to please a man, and keep his mind off the rough daily life of Pax.

Craghley followed Haalguard dutifully into the interior of the Gate, very much pleased with its' appearance. The mark of the day being what it was the place was relatively empty, but every bar has its' regulars. Craghley turned his head up to the strange sounds coming from upstairs, frowning a little while wondering what it was. Nonetheless his stride did not falter as he went to the bar. He continued to talk to Haalguard while on the move.
"How long has yer mine been here? Must be afore the town were founded... did they come here because of the proximity tae you folks?"

Catching the bartender's eye he asked for five tankards of house ale. He trusted Haalguard to find a table suitable for the dwarves and to help carry the drinks back.

[Keaira Morgandy]

Haalguard's stride betrayed that he might not be as tired as he had portrayed himself to be, though there could be little doubt that he was much appreciative of Craghley's "offer." A wide grin pervaded his features during the short trek to the 'Gate, though the other dwarves had grumbled much about securing their tools before they could even think of coming to join them -- yet it was obvious they intended to do so, in time.

Indeed the interior of the 'Gate was very sparsely populated, though soft laughter and patterings of feet could indeed be heard from upstairs. Tradetide was leisure time for the girls, most often, and they were no doubt playing games of some sort. Haalguard smiled knowingly and winked at Craghley as a giggle echoed down the stairs.

An older man snoozed discreetly in one corner of the room, a wide-brimmed hat tipped low over his nose. His chair, it seemed, was balanced at a very careful angle, rocking dangerously with each breath and yet somehow remaining upright. Two men sat discussing something quietly at another table, one casually picking at what seemed to be his lunch, though he didn't appear very interested in it. Only one figure occupied a barstool, slouching in an obvious drunken stupor. He was speaking -- or attempting to speak, his words slurred and almost indecipherable -- with a red-headed woman behind the bar. She appeared quite bored with him, leaning heavily on one elbow, until Craghley and the dwarf appeared.

"Good tide, Haalguard!" she said in cheerful tones, standing upright immediately and moving toward the center of the bar. Her eyes were a lovely green, bright and clear, and the smile on her lips suggested that she wasn't the hardest woman to please. Perhaps she was a bit simple..? "Who've you brought to my fine establishment today? I don't believe I've seen you before, sir, welcome to Nether's Gate!" The latter comment was directed at Craghley, and she beamed at him amiably, beginning to fetch two tankards. "Five's a right big number, yeah? I'll start you off with two for now, unless you wish otherwise..? Will you be having company?" Clearly she was hopeful.

"Good tide, Melissa," came Haalguard's reply as he carefully selected a table toward the center of the room, away from the two chattering men and a decent distance from the sleeper. "Craghley Donovan, he calls himself, offered to buy me an ale! Hospitable fellow, that, unlike his companions! Just come through with a bunch of trouble makers! One's about to fight Calavis bare fist, 'e is. Good luck to him, I say." Here he laughed heartily, then continued. "The others have gone to lock up their tools -- you know how that's been lately. Got to keep an eye on them, or else."

For a moment, Haalguard's countenance seemed to darken. But soon Melissa was at their table, and he immediately grew more cheerful, waving a grimy hand at Craghley's questions.

"Now now, I haven't got my vocal chords lubricated yet, leave off just a moment!"

As Haalguard dove happily into the depths of his tankard, Melissa turned her attention to Craghley. "Just come through, yeah? What brings you here, then? Seems lots of strange types have noticed our little town just recently!"

[Craghley]

For someone who needed their vocal chords 'lubricating', the dwarf was still doing an awful lot of talking. Craghley offered Melissa a smile and a nod, then scanned the humble interior as Haalguard prattled on. Though he still had an ear bent to Haalguard's words. Craghley winced when he mentioned Draydis still fighting the youth, having caught himself up in the company of the miners - he felt he should still be there, but the Adhiel could certainly take care of himself and besides, it would be rude to leave now. He'd promised these fine dwarves a drink, after all.

Craghley was not unhappy to be assaulted by the human woman's barrage of questions, for she had that friendly persona that made it more comfortable than a nuisance.

"Aye, m'lady. Just arrived this day but a tide ago, an' hae already managed tae upset the Provost. We cam in as a sort o' relief group, you could call it. Help refugees 'ere set up their lives here as best we can... if that sounds a strangely charitable notion, then ye hae but tae meet our captain Ulderon."

He still pulled out a few circlets, unsure as of yet how much the drinks would cost.

"I'll pay fer all five now if that's a'right, just tae save ye the hassle later. But wha' be this Ai keep hearing 'boot strange types? Tamerton said something of Oneists causing havoc in the town."

[Keaira Morgandy]

It seemed the drunken man at the bar had fallen asleep, for he was either snoring or murmuring at steady intervals, his head resting on the simple wooden surface.

Melissa chuckled when Craghley spoke of upsetting the Provost, the light laughter pleasing to the ear as it escaped her slender throat. "Don't you worry about such things, the Provost spends all his waking hours worrying lately." Clearly, Melissa was considerably less concerned about the occurrences that had stressed the man so much.

"It's true that plenty of havoc was caused, though not by Oneists. Not true ones, anyway. Word is they called themselves such, but things got violent when someone took offense to them speaking ill of other followings. Caused quite a commotion, it did." Melissa cocked her hip, placing a hand on it as a toss of her head willed a few wisps of hair away from her eyes. "Word is they weren't part of any official group, and now they've disappeared out of town. No tellin' where they are now."

"Mighty honorable intentions you've got, though, comin' here to help us," the redhead continued in softer tones. "You must be a brave lot." The way she was looking at Craghley almost suggested attraction, a winsome smile on her lips. One of her hands lifted as if she intended to stroke his cheek, but Haalguard had taken a breath between gulps and as he spoke again her hand changed trajectories and instead scooped up a few of Craghley's coins, leaving the rest.

"But are yeh all talk?" Haalguard challenged, eying Craghley suspiciously. "There's plenty what will say they'd like to help, but much fewer what'll do it."

[Craghley]

Craghley gratefully buried his head in the mug, however frustrated he felt at Haalguard's intervention twixt he and Melissa. Redheads were fine and rare to come by... and this one seemed to have seized the opportunity of distraction simply to ensure his ale was paid for. Ah, the attractions of a steady business mind.

He took a light mouthful first, just tasting. All the background notes coalesced, but not as to merge; the joy of tasting a good brew was not just in the quality of ingredients but how the ale was made. Each one had different flavours from the different environs; the different nectars, hops and barley, yeast cultures - the people of Pax had come here and by the Gods, someone knew how to make beer. He let his enjoyment show through his face for Melissa Le Rouge's satisfaction.

"Ane brew unsurpassed hae ye here, good Lady. Almost as welcome as yer words an' company, it is."

A further gulp preceded Craghley's alternatively sober reply to the dwarf's query.

"As far as Ai ken, an' frae all that Ai've seen, we'll act. Ye've already seen the splinters in oor group but we can only mend oorselves frae here; no further guid will come of discussing it when all hae bin sorted.
What we shall accomplish though, that I cannae say."

[Keaira Morgandy]

Indeed Haalguard had been speaking truthfully when he'd claimed there was no better ale to be found than that which was served at the 'Gate. The brew was rich in flavor and quite full-bodied, and somewhere beneath the hops' bitter familiarity there was a smoky, almost honeyed flavor. The two tastes, inhabiting completely different ends of the spectrum, combined in a heady flavor that danced on the tongue and in the throat long after the mouthful had been swallowed, leaving a warm sensation and, in most cases, a longing for more.

Melissa watched Craghley closely as he sampled the brew, by all appearances interested in more than just coin. A wide smile illuminated her pleasant features as Craghley showed his approval, and indeed she seemed to swell a bit with pride.

"Well I'm rightly pleased you enjoy it, my dear! I dare say we're both quite lucky that you happened upon my humble establishment." She was quite a contrast to Haalguard's grumpy little form, made all the more cheerful because she secretly quite enjoyed the highlander's way of speech. "If your companions are anything like yourself, I'm sure you will prove to be quite an asset to our little town." With a wink and a smile Melissa sauntered back toward the bar, and should he care to notice Craghley might note a generous and pleasing sway to her hips.

Haalguard grunted slightly as the redhead flirted openly with Craghley, though it was hard to tell if it was jealousy or disapproval -- or simply that he was the brooding, cranky type. Once Melissa seemed distracted behind the bar, he finally spoke up.

"There's lots of to-do about all that nonsense with the grey robes. Irritates me a right bit, it does. No one cares about what's been happening in the mines. That collapse today, it weren't the first by far."

[Craghley]

Craghley's mug was up against his lips but none of the ale was he downing while he watched Melissa's hypnotic sway. The reverie was marred only by the irksome dwarf's noises of disapproval.
Finally turning his head from the becoming woman, he got back to business with his drinking buddy. And, of course, his drink.

"Tell me, then," Craghley said after another welcome mouthful. "Ai've big pointy lugs tae fill, so I'll spier ye - what hae bin occurin' doon yer mines? Wha' could be the cause o' all this?"

Understandable that people here rated the troubles in the mines second to what had occurred within the city - it hardly affected them, didn't it? And they had their own problems to concern themselves here (such as Ulder's sortie).

Perhaps yon townsfolk would also care fer the miners a wee bit more if'n they worked on their social graces.

[Keaira Morgandy]

"Well," Haalguard began, wasting little time in seizing upon Craghley's attention, "after them grey-whatsits left, there's been strange goin's on. Rumors of spirits and demons and what have you. But the trouble at the mine started afore they even set foot through that portal!"

The dwarf brooded darkly, staring hard at his ale, as if it might explain the occurrences to him. He seemed almost uncomfortable with the topic, glancing around before leaning closer. For someone who wanted people to pay attention to the mines, he was sure keeping quiet.

"Them collapses, some are due to lack of safety, yes. If I didn't know better I'd say Madtooth were tryin' to kill us. But some happen in old, secure areas. Ones what should never have collapsed, not for another hundred years or more." His bushy eyebrows raised at the highlander, as if he were telling a scary story. "On top o' that, equipment's been goin' missing, and we hear scratchings and growling in the dark. There's somethin' foul down there, somethin' that might be the cause of all this chaos lately. Why, it may have even summoned the grey robes!"

An involuntary shudder ran down Haalguard's spine. "I believe I've been a might bit close to the creature a few times m'self. Horrid, I felt. Somethin' just isn't right down there."

The tense dwarf quickly dove back into his ale and, though the lower half of his face couldn't be seen, his eyebrows continued to frown.

[Craghley]

Attentive ears took in all of Haalguartd's worries, the mind betwixt them dutifully churning through the words. Craghley had noticed something amiss about this place - what of that tree he'd seen when he had called on Draydis earlier at the campsite? If whatever that was spread as far and deep as the mines, then it was likely a problem independant of those supposed Grey Robes. If it had begun afore they had come through, indeed. If it was the same thing. Why wouldn't it be?

And the heid bummer has turned a cracked nut, eh? Didn't used to be like that, so what in the name of the Mother could affect one so?

Craghley followed his new friend in chugging down some ale, allowing him to finish afore he asked the dwarf some more questions. It was actually difficult to slow down and enjoy Melissa's ale, as he often caught his hand and tankard rising to his lips as though of their own accord. Once Haalguard had settled the drink down he waited for a second, then asked:

"So, which cam first? Madtooth's change, or this... thing - and those collapses in yer auld secure areas and such?"

[Keaira Morgandy]

Haalguard's eyebrows furrowed, as if he had not considered before that the two could be connected -- Madtooth's press for more work and the strange occurrences down in the mines. He stared thoughtfully into his tankard, not yet noticing that his brew was almost gone.

"They happened almost one'n the same, if I remember rightly," he remarked after a few thoughtful flickers. "Might'a been that Madtooth started actin' funny first, just before the first collapse."

He didn't have time to say much else, for two of the other dwarves entered the 'Gate, joining Craghley and the other dwarf at their table. Without hesitation they seized upon their respective tankards and, having noticed he was almost out, Haalguard discreetly claimed the fifth, extra tankard as his own.

Melissa seized on the opportunity to approach their table once again, appearing suddenly at Craghley's side with a wide smile on her lips. "Good tide! Have you found anything yet?" Her question was directed at the darker-bearded of the two dwarves, but she shot a glance at Craghley out of the corner of her eye, her smile growing a bit more mischievous. Discreetly, her hand snuck its way to the back of the highlander's neck, fingertips gingerly brushing over his skin. The others didn't seem to notice -- not even Haalguard, who had pushed his empty tankard aside and began on his second.

"Bah, nothing yet. Just rock and troubles." Quite a bit less long-winded than Haalguard, the dwarf began drinking his ale with a mix of greed and gratefulness, much as his companions had already done.

OOC: Edited to fix a glaring grammatical error..

[Craghley]

In truth, Craghley had unknowingly struck gold - and seemingly given something for Haalguard to mull over. It pained Craghley to see the brooding expressions pass over the craggy face of the dwarf. Made him a little angry that the best he could seem to do was just buy this one a few drinks and then make him relive the troubles that had plagued his kin of late. It did do Craghley good to remember that his company was still welcomed, even after his questions. But then these dwarves deserved attention, did they not?
Craghley watched with amusement the single-mindedness of the returning pair of dwarves as they headed for the table and their beers without a word of greeting. Concentrating on the dwarves as he was Melissa's arrival took him by surprise. Not nearly as much surprise as her toying fingers, though.

Craghley gave a choking little cough as he stifled down a strange hybrid laugh of incredulity and rampant glee. Were it not for a flush of blood to his face one might question whether the lad even registered Melissa's hand. However...
Daring a somewhat cheeky smile he looked up into Melissa's face.
"My thanks again for yer hospitality. It's been the brightest point o' this hectic day by far."
Well, that was the truth. He spoke and his hand moved, hidden below the ledge of the table and behind the woman's back, to rest atop the fine curve of her far hip. The woman was quite gorgeous, with a maturity of both manner and body that the young lad found very much attractive.
Too much? He waited for either another warm smile from Melissa, a frigid stillness of disapproval, or an outright - and likely very painful - slap across his face...

[Keaira Morgandy]

A soft giggle escaped Melissa's throat as Craghley sputtered, but she was obviously pleased when he responded to her advances. Before she could respond, however, the third dwarf spoke up.

"Aye, and thank ye for the drink, sir. It's too rare now we've the time to enjoy an ale. Likely we'll have to return to work as soon as we're done, 'ey Haalguard? Madtooth'll have a fit if he catches wind of us taking a break." He mumbled something that sounded akin to "slave driver" as Haalguard nodded mournfully. "A pity you have to go so soon," Melissa said in friendly tones, though Craghley would be able to recognize mischief in her eyes.

It was then that a man emerged at the bottom of the stairs, a pretty young girl at his side. His hair was slightly disheveled and he grinned rather foolishly at Melissa, who turned toward them as soon as they appeared. A soft "excuse me" took her away from Craghley's side and she approached the pair, speaking in low tones. The young girl giggled softly and wiggled her fingers at Craghley in a wave.

"At least Mel's business is goin' about well," Haalguard remarked passingly, squinting at the lingering swallows of ale in his tankard. "With all this stress and worryin' of late, there's plenty what need such services."

[Craghley]

"Aye, and thank ye for the drink, sir. It's too rare now we've the time to enjoy an ale. Likely we'll have to return to work as soon as we're done, 'ey Haalguard? Madtooth'll have a fit if he catches wind of us taking a break." He mumbled something that sounded akin to "slave driver" as Haalguard nodded mournfully. "A pity you have to go so soon," Melissa said in friendly tones, though Craghley would be able to recognize mischief in her eyes.

"You're welcome," Craghley said to the dwarf. "Truth be told, I appreciate ye speaking tae me about yer worries as weel. As fer hae'ing tae haste ye back tae work, well... dinnae hurry yer ale. And when you're near done, allow me tae drink yer health afore ye leave."

"At least Mel's business is goin' about well," Haalguard remarked passingly, squinting at the lingering swallows of ale in his tankard. "With all this stress and worryin' of late, there's plenty what need such services."

Once again, Craghley watched Melissa depart. The naive lad wondered who exactly the two newcomers were, politely returning the girls' wave while he replied to Haalguard's remark.
"Aye. Seems a good wuiman. Decent. Honest..." Well, quite forward anyway. "Seems you lads be needin' tae come here more often than ye do already."

Craghley turned back to the table, punctuating his words with a draught of ale.

"Why do ye hae it sae rough anyway? Soonds as though this Madtooth be in need of laldie of late. Do ye know wha's caused this change?"


[hr][/hr]
OOC: concerning Ophelia's post below: I'm cool with it, if that's fine by you Keaira?

[Ophelia da Yrsa]

Ophelia wandered from portal to tavern, and it wasn't that unusual of a travel route thanks to it's proximatey. If nothing else, a bar was a bar no matter the town, and she was in need of refreshment and food. She'd nearly upturned the contents of her stomach (consisting mostly of the Den's renowned pancakes and a recently imbibed mead) directly beyond the portal itself, perhaps even on the Provost if he'd made the mistake of getting too close to her. Thankfully, he hadn't. That would have been remarkably embarassing.

Currently, she was only dealing with the minor embarassment of her achy belly and overwhelming hunger. Shaking off the distress of the magickal travel, the buxom blonde sauntered through the door and surveyed the occupants, before sliding up to the bar where she deposited her large pack (off which hung several instruments) on the ground beside her. The thud of her morningstar's heavy head resounded against the floor before the clinking of it's chains followed. "Good day," she said with as much cheer as could be mustered by someone who looked so green around the gills. "Portal... do you have anything to make the stomach rumbles go away? I feel like I haven't eaten for days, but that anything I put in there is just going to make a sooner-than-anticipated re-appearance," she was a joker and certainly no lady by the way she was dressed or by her casual air.

Wearing the accoutrements of a rogue, she seemed comfortable in a soft off-white long sleeved shirt and a faded blue corset paired with dark brown leggings and her usual soft brown boots coming just below the knee. Ophelia's hair was worn loose and long, it's tendrils reaching long below her shoulders, almost so that she might sit on the ends were she not careful. Woven amidst the thick locks were beads and braids as well as hemp and dreads creating a myriad of earthtones and occasionally thunks of wood against metal, or clinks of glass against stone, could be heard.

OOC: Care for some company? I don't mind starting my own thread, but I'd rather meet some PCs in the area if you don't mind my barging in.

[Keaira Morgandy]

OOC: Sho' nuff! Welcome to the show, Ophelia. ;)

"It were nice to have someone who'd listen, fer once," Haalguard replied to Craghley's thanks, the other two dwarves nodding their agreement. The girl, meanwhile, winked flirtatiously at the highlander and blew him a kiss, and all three dwarves raised their eyebrows at Craghley's description of Melissa. "Mel's a good woman, aright, but those are uncommon good things to say about a lady runnin' a bar and brothel at once, eh?" They all had a good laugh at that, chortling their 'that's right's and their 'here here's. They had mistaken Craghley's naivety for attraction, and busied themselves about being amused by it.

Ophelia entered amidst the laughter, which made the plain establishment seem more warm and bar-like than it had a few burns ago. Two men in one corner largely ignored the others in the room, and a third slept tipped back in his chair, looking as if he might fall at any second. A redheaded woman was speaking quietly with a disheveled looking man and a giggling girl back by the staircase; the easiest thing to notice would obviously be the table toward the center of the room, where a young Achadhiel was conversing with three dwarves who were obviously very amused by something.

Melissa was turning away from the "couple," her hand slipping what was most likely money into her pocket as the girl disappeared upstairs again and the man sheepishly exited the establishment. For all intents and purposes the redheaded woman looked as if she were ready to start a chat with Ophelia, but she never got that far.

The man whom had been snoozing on the precariously tipped chair found his rest (and subsequently his balance) disrupted by the loud thud of Ophelia's weapon upon the floor. With a sudden jerk he woke, just in time to tip his chair backwards. His feet met the table as his legs extended in shock, and with a loud crash he was on the floor in seconds, flat on his back, the table kicked over, a half-empty tankard of ale spilled upon the floor. He looked quite the fool, standing quickly, and the flush of color on his cheeks showed that he felt the fool as well.

His gaze first went to the dwarves, whom had been laughing before and now continued to do so, with a new source to direct their much-needed mirth at. Obviously, the man didn't appreciate it. "Shut up, you lot! What are you playing at, making such a ruckus? I ought to teach you a lesson," he threatened, his dark blue eyes narrowing in anger. His voice was hardly deep at all, and his lanky frame made him look as if he posed little threat.

"Oh, well then! Yer welcome to try!" Haalguard laughed heartily, slapping his knee. Even Melissa couldn't keep a straight face, a soft snrk sound escaping her lips as she covered her mouth with her hand.

[Craghley]

The girl, meanwhile, winked flirtatiously at the highlander and blew him a kiss, and all three dwarves raised their eyebrows at Craghley's description of Melissa. "Mel's a good woman, aright, but those are uncommon good things to say about a lady runnin' a bar and brothel at once, eh?"

The height of Craghley's brow and width of his eyes raised with each of Haalguard's words. Surprised, he spun back to face the brothel girl and she blew him a kiss.
Tomatoes envied Craghley's face.
The lad tried to douse his scalding blush with a mouthful of his ale, or at least hide it behind the tankard. But all it took was another handful of flickers before even he snorted into his drink and joined the dwarves with a hearty chuckle of his own.
He looked up abrubtly at the crash, taking in the new arrival Ophelia and the man now lying on the beer-dampened straw. Craghley was half wondering whether to get out of his seat and help the man, the other half wondering if he'd just be insulted all the more for it, but the unknown fellow's sour demeanour clarified things with Craghley's conscience for him.

His gaze first went to the dwarves, whom had been laughing before and now continued to do so, with a new source to direct their much-needed mirth at. Obviously, the man didn't appreciate it. "Shut up, you lot! What are you playing at, making such a ruckus? I ought to teach you a lesson," he threatened, his dark blue eyes narrowing in anger. His voice was hardly deep at all, and his lanky frame made him look as if he posed little threat.

"Oh, well then! Yer welcome to try!" Haalguard laughed heartily, slapping his knee. Even Melissa couldn't keep a straight face, a soft snrk sound escaping her lips as she covered her mouth with her hand.

Lanky though the other man was, Craghley knew his own (lack of) capabilities in a brawl, and always preferred a more peaceful solution in any case. If Haalguard wanted to vent some anger though, then the other man was certainly welcoming it.
"If ye must," he remarked to Haalguard. "At the very least, better tak it outside. I'm sure Melissa wouldn't appreciate it if ye imprint this mans' face on half the tables here."

[Ophelia da Yrsa]

The loud, boisterous laughter of her neighbors was a welcome sign as she stepped through the door. She appraised those around with the hungry eyes of a storyteller, quickly making her own assumptions about who and what each person was, and what they were doing in the rebel city, Pax. No doubt the dwarves were sent there, due to their racial difference and the assumed fact that they just couldn't be followers of Dominicus. With the mines nearby, they atleast had a chance to profit from the ordeal. The achadhiel with them was a bit of a conundrum, but it was probably his heritage that ended him here. Pointed ears were enough to send you packing, eh? It was such a shame. Then there was the couple, an exchange of money made their relationship clear. It also established Melissa's profession.

It was the overturning chair (as well as it's occupant), however, that recieved the most outward attention from the beautiful blond as she turned, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, looking at the man as he angrily pushed himself from the ground and started shouting at the company of dwarves. A hand went immediately to her mouth, hoping to cover the small giggle that followed, though it hardly did. Not wanting to get the rest of his wrath, she turned quickly back to the bar, losing herself in the backdrop, but listening carefully to what happened over her shoulder.

[Keaira Morgandy]

The man grew even angrier when he heard Craghley's comment, his fists clenching for a moment before he seized a nearby chair and hurled it at another table. There was obviously more strength to him than his frame suggested. The dwarves stopped laughing as he advanced a few more steps.

"You think this is funny, do ya? You think you can just make a fool out of Cecil and get away with it?" Cecil was obviously a little bit drunk, for there was a noticeable sway in his movements and he didn't seem to notice that his hat was askew, but this didn't slow him much. The man who'd fallen asleep at the bar had woken up now and was turned slightly on his stool, staring hazily at the angry Cecil with his mouth agape. Melissa had stopped laughing and looked nervously at Ophelia.

Searching for another easy target, Cecil turned suddenly and seized the man at the bar by the neck of his shirt, throwing the drunken form easily from the stool. Melissa cried out an alarmed "Harmon!," but he only curled up in a fearful ball on the floor and tried not to move, obviously expecting Cecil to strike again. For all intents and purposes, Cecil looked as if he intended to do so.

It was Haalguard who moved first, standing on his chair and launching himself at Cecil like an oversized and bearded cannon ball. He hit him from behind, square in the middle of his back, and both of them went toppling to the floor. What happened next was a blur of movement and shouted curses, Cecil righting himself enough to grab Haalguard round the neck before finding himself assailed by his two companions. Harmon had crawled under a table but was obviously cheering for the dwarves, and above the ruckus Melissa could be heard shouting.

"Dammit Cecil you'd better hope those dwarves finish you off because otherwise you'll wish you'd never set foot in my establishment! I'll hit you so hard your mother will feel it in her grave! You'll find my boot embedded so far up your ass you'll taste leather on your tongue!" Her threats grew increasingly violent and impressively vulgar as the three dwarves and Cecil rolled around on the floor, knocking over chairs and tables while doing their best to inflict as much harm as possible.

Within burns the place had gone straight to the Nether.

[Craghley]

Craghley wasn't slow to respond, even if Haalguard outstripped him. Having stood up fast enough to knock his chair back, Craghley could only stop and gawp as the three dwarves viciously slugged it out with Cecil amongst the straws, matched in violence by the landlady's decidedly unlady-like threats. He only realised he'd grabbed his drink again once he felt his hands press the tankard against his lips.
Well, no use standing about like a stunned mullet.
Craghley righted his chair and, doing his best not to get tangled up with the melee underfoot, made his way to check on the man that Cecil had thrown to the ground - Harmon, did Melissa yell? - and see that he was alright. That egotistical bastard could have saved his grace by laughing along with the rest of the tavern, but oh no, he had to be the big man, didn't he? Well, seemed Cecil was finding it more than difficult to deal with the little man, as it were. Perhaps this was just what the dwarves needed. A beer, a bitch, and a brawl. Let it all out, lads. Good to see you dumping it on that glaikit douce.
He reached the table which was the current place of residence of the drunk, leaning down to peer underneath. He hadn't been able to tell, but he could have jarred a wrist or cracked his head. Unlikely, but possible, even more so in a stupor.
"You a'right there, sir?"

[Ophelia da Yrsa]

Ophelia's eyes widened dramatically. My life has just begun, and look at the stories I'm watching already! To have only left home so soon and already be faced with so much in so little time, well, it was phenomenal. She was loving every flicker. As the word exchange turned violent, Ophy did one thing she knew how to do well, and that was get out of the way - particularly of flying furniture. The last time her oldest brother's wife got pregnant she'd seen furniture fly just like that. She'd also heard much more vulgar language than that which Melissa displayed with her threats. Infact, it made the madam's mouth seem smooth and versed in etiquette.

The bard scurried out of the way of flailing arms and launching dwarves, and gave Melissa a sympathetic eye that lacked the true concern of an insider. Scanning across the room she took in Craghley chatting with a gentleman under the table, who she guessed to be Harmon, but couldn't tell for sure due to the contuing ruckus in the center of the room. Her first instinct was to grab her pack, mindful of her instruments, and be ready to stash them on the opposite side of the bar should it be necessary to keep them out of harm's way. It was with this in mind she dropped down and wiggled her way into the straps before standing up only a flicker and a half after.

Ice Queen.. I just wanted something to settle my stomach. It could've been said that she visibily paled in that flicker, but it would only be one paying very close attention to notice, due to her already fair skin. It wasn't so much in her face that it happened, but her eyes in a sallowing distance akin to overshadowing of clouds. Perhaps it was the reminder of having been feeling queasy not moments before, or maybe it was the sudden movement as she pushed herself off the chair, dodged, bent over and picked up her bag, only to stand up again quickly, that caused the feeling. At this point, it didn't matter as an unsteady hand sought out the rim of the bar, only to lose sensation briefly and have attention diverted to eyes that closed to complete blackness only to have them open and watch the world swim.

Forearms slipped along the bartop, her weight falling againt the right-angles that her elbows provided as hips slammed against the upright portion of the serving counter. Don't.. pass.. out. You're not that nauseous. Incoherant mumbling passed over her lips as she blinked away the feeling of spins. "Headrush," she said as the flurry of stars passed in a time that felt like ages, but was barely the length of ten heartbeats.

[Keaira Morgandy]

Poor drunk Harmon hadn't been expecting Craghley's approach and, whether out of shock, because of adrenaline, or both, he didn't even give the highlander a chance to ask him if he was alright. Instead he leapt at the pair of legs he saw approaching his table, fearing another hit and deciding that he would strike first. Like a madman he hurled himself forward, and promptly sunk his teeth into Craghley's left leg.

The dwarves continued to duke it out with Cecil, though it was apparent that the lanky man, however strong, had to chance against three rowdy miners -- four feet tall or no. Obviously they were just sporting with him now, kicking and jabbing at him as he continued to shout curses and insult their mothers in colorful ways.

Melissa noticed instantly, of course, when Ophelia stooped to fetch her pack. Before she was a heckler she was a business woman, and to her eyes it looked as if the woman fully intended to leave -- and Melissa would be damned before she let Cecil's idiocy lose her a customer. Suddenly she completely lost interest in the fight, not even noticing when Harmon attached himself to Craghley's leg. There was money to be made!

Her cursing stopped immediately, Melissa instead instantly producing a glass and smiling. "Is there anything I can get for y--" She began, but did not finish, as she watched Ophelia's pale countenance somehow lose whatever color it had, and her eyebrows raised in alarm as she suddenly slumped against the bar. Melissa knew quite well what it looked like when someone was about to pass out, and from below the bar she fetched a cold wet rag, offering it toward the nearly-fainting woman.

"Woah now girly, steady yourself. It'll pass." Please don't puke on my floor.

[Craghley]

At least, Craghley meant to enquire after Harmon's well-being. In his limited experience, it was uncommon for ones' legs to be tackled by agitated drunks hiding beneath tables, and so it was with considerable puzzlement that Craghley watched as the ground rose up to greet him. Had he stopped and wondered how Harmon would have actually reacted, he might have seen it coming, might have avoided it. No such luck for him now.
He flung his arms out on the way down, wildly, which mildly impeded the force with which his forehead smacked the flat of the table. It was but a moment later that a real pain shot through his haze of vertigo, a red, 'AAAARGH!' kind of stabbing pain. Not the pain of a wickedly sharp cut-throat razor which has just treacherously slipped, but the much more lamentable tearing pain of, say, foul teeth sinking into flesh.
Which Craghley saw, as he gazed down in shock, it was.
The first thing he did was roar. Reflexively he tried to kick at Harmon's head to dislodge the offending teeth, but this was intercepted by more consciously-derived orders to refrain from harming this poor drunken idiot. The two conflicting messages bickered, called for lunch, negotiated, and agreed upon a compromise in which someone would indeed be hurt, but not Harmon. The kick jerked away and Craghley stubbed his toe painfully against a chair leg.
He yelled again, quieter this time and with a venemous curse-word. The matter of peacefully removing the monstrous muncher was a difficult one to contemplate when it felt as though one had stepped into a bear trap with an appetite. Yet... the hurt was useful in dislodging a very useful memory, one of the precious few he held of his mother. It was one of his earliest...
Craghley leant over and grabbed Harmon by the ear firmly and pulled upward away from the savaged limb. There was no mercy in his pincer grip.

"If'n ye don't cut that oot noo, ye'll git yer heid in yer hands tae play with!"

[Ophelia da Yrsa]

Ophelia needed air, or atleast that's what she was telling herself as she forelornly looked toward the door while Melissa yammered on about something. Thankfully, it didn't take the woman long to realize that the girl wasn't in the best sorts, and even went so far as to procur a rag. Not thinking (as she normally would have) of where the cloth had come from, she only realized the potential relief as steely fingers attached with a vice-grip to the damp fabric and pressed it to her forhead and covered her eyes for a few flickers, before sighing. Don't vomit. You will not vomit. "I'm not going to vomit," she allowed her mantra to spill out verbally, and looked up at Melissa with embarassment from under the rag. "Thanks, I'm n-"

Craghley's outburst pulled her attention, but she quickly looked back at the madam. "Is it always like this here?" she asked as she dropped the cloth onto the counter. Already she was passing from naseau to the calm clamminess that follows. It was hardly comfortable, but atleast she didn't feel like she was prone to passing out or emptying her stomach. Cautiously she lifted herself off the bartop and slid onto the closest stool with the grace of a sack of potatoes. "I just fell out of that forsaken portal, do you think you have something for that?" She asked, looking at the empty tankard Melissa had initially offered, but still giving over the shoulder glances to the violence of the men around her.

[Graves]

D'arcy enters the Nether's Gate, blinking a few times to adjust her eyes to the change in lighting. She smiles wanly, enjoying the warmth of the inn's interior. Not to suggest that the young Miss Graves is sickly, though the pale woman certainly gives every apperance thereof.

Her clothing is severely dark in contrast to the lightness of her complexion and hair, her hair wrapped up in a confection of dark-colored ribbons and pins not for appearances sake but to ensure that it remains out of the way. Her dress, slightly shorter than custom demands, will doubtless not seem out of place in a locale that functions as a brothel. Her bag, slung casually across her form, seems to make D'arcy wobble unsteadily. If anything, this unbalancing stagger serves to make her even closer to illness.

No sooner has she entered than D'arcy notices the commotion near the bar. It is always this way with dwarves and alcohol, though, the woman thinks chidingly, though her exterior remains calm and collected. A single eyebrow lofts itself into an an uneasy arc as she slides toward the bar, taking great care to avoid the commotion and tumult involving the curiously-accented achadhiel and his apparent dwarven companions.

No sooner does the young woman reach the bar than she notices Ophelia's condition and her gushing mantra involving wholly disgusting bodily functions. "Ginger," D'arcy begins smoothly and evenly, looking at the Trothgardian with pale concern. "Ginger tea, with some cinnamon and chamomile... anything carminative, really," the words slip out almost unbidden-- her gushing nature and desire to help commingling in what almost certainly is intended to be a helpful gesture.

"I have some in my bag, if you think it'd help you from... relieving yourself in an untimely manner." Courteous and trained in manners, D'arcy flashes a smile which might only serve to appear patronizing, although the intention behind it is anything but.

((OOC: If posting here is inappropriate, let me know; I have been struggling with an entrance for a few weeks now, and don't want to mess up what may be my one chance to properly begin playing.))

[Keaira Morgandy]

OOC: Apologies for the delay! Midterms and all that... Welcome D'arcy!

The dwarves, having soundly beaten Cecil into a whimpering and complacent husk of an angry drunkard, stopped their assault in surprise as Craghley shouted in pain, their fuzzy eyebrows raising questioningly. One of them moved forward a step as if to help, before all at once they suddenly realized his predicament.

And they laughed.

Howling and slapping their knees with mirth, the dwarves nearly fell all over themselves with laughter, tears in their eyes from the effort of it. They snorted and doubled over, obviously still in great spirits despite the fight. Haalguard gasped for breath between bellows. "Bit! Bit by a drunk!"

Harmon seemed at first quite determined to hold on, oblivious to Craghley's tumble. The smack on the head caused sparks to dance in the highlander's eyes, but for the most part he found his pride more injured than even his leg. When Ophelia drew Melissa's attention to the new fuss, her eyes opened wide in shock, before another soft snrk threatened to betray her amusement. Even Cecil had looked up and grinned half-heartedly at the spectacle.

As soon as Craghley's vice grip found his ear, however, Harmon let go immediately, wincing and sitting up to follow the pull of those merciless fingers. "Ow! Ow! 'M sorry! Ow!!"

Amidst all the ruckus D'arcy entered the 'Gate, in time to see a redheaded woman turning away from the spectacle to address the blond at the bar who looked as if she were about to lose her lunch. "Nay, but it does happen once a week or so." Obvious pity tinged Melissa's green eyes as Ophelia dragged herself back onto a stool. "We've got stew and bread in the kitchen, if'n you want it. I'm afraid I don't have much else, sweetheart."

Melissa lifted her eyebrows at the newcomer when she sat down and spoke to Ophelia of ginger tea, but she said nothing more, only wondering at her appearance. Why she looks as if she's just come back from the dead! A pretty corpse, but deathly nonetheless. Girl's these days, they never went out into the sun!