Here, Have Some

Log Info

• Title: Here, Have Some
• Emitter: Strike
• Characters: Strike, Jinks, Merek, Karelin
• Place: A03: Steel von IronBrew
• Time: Emblem of Ea - Sunday, September 19, 2021, 9:43 PM
• Summary: Strike is enjoying a beer, and the circle of 'leave me alone' she's managed to generate, when Merek arrives and seeks to join her. As they're getting caught up, Jinks arrives seeking some rotgut to punish brain and liver all at once. Merek shares the fate of little Lily. Jinks tries to run off with the responsibility for the Demon Archduke's actions. The others give chase to try and... sort things out. Merek puts a fresh one across Jinks's face and reassures him, yes it's all his fault, but the Seer is going to go off and kill Eclavdran. Karelin arrives just in time for Jinks to depart in haste, at the same time Merek asks Strike about getting a drink together, sometime. Being already in a tavern, the half-mul invites Merek, and Karelin to her original table and orders a round. Karelin calls in food. Merek tries to pay their tabs. Karelin drifts back into his thoughts and munchies, while Merek and Strike discuss lifepaths....

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=<* A03: Steel von IronBrew's *>-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

The tavern butts up against the Arena walls--at every score, every victory, its walls shake with the often thund'rous responses of the crowd. The tavern here is large and domed, though the windows are by wisdom, bricked in, and tables nailed to the floor. Or welded. The furniture is thick and heavy. The food, though, changes every week or so to something odd, unusual, or fickle, and the small stage here is the most oft-used outside of the theatre district.

This as much as anything is the tavern's calling-card, as well as the stories told that by tradition, only become grander with the retelling. An aged half-sildanyari, her shoulders scarred as much as her face, oversees the bar and it's said she's never cracked a smile in thirty years. Her partner, a smallish gnome in Tarien's brilliant hues (and often soaked by ale-spots), appears to do most of it for her. The bar itself is carved in the shape of some serpent that Tarien is said to have tricked ages past, and stolen the secret of flight from before gifting it to the birds. It lies there, its expression surprised as though not have expecting anyone to have been half so clever.

The beer and ale are modestly priced, though what's available changes with the menu and what merchants might bring in from various parts of the world. A drink known as the "Fire Bird's Brew," a dedication to Angoron's declared love for Ceinara, is always available, however, and is the one constant. The cuisine is, as always, unique and changing, a part of the greater world.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-- Appearing --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
 Jinks           A gnomish fellow in fancy garb and jewelry.
 Merek           A black-haired, dusky male with golden eyes. 
 Strike          A dusky grey half elf girl in grey and black clothes.
 Karelin         A grizzled veteran.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

The place is the usual run of rambuncious, with the typical suspects in play.

Meanwhile, sitting by the fire by herself with some bruises, a couple dark puddles sprinkled with teeth, and a tankard of a dark beer, is Strike. She idly flexes and relaxes her fingers in turns, perhaps to work the kinks out after presumably busting someone's chops, but her expression is untroubled.

Merek walks along and into the place, taking the time to check on some orders while he takes the time to look around. He has on that dark attire he often does while he takes a look along from that scarf which he wears, nodding a bit to Strike. The man seems to be a bit distant, a lot more than usual with him, taking the time to walk up to the flame and will wait for that shipment. "Strike."

Jinks is as lowkey as Jinks can possibly be, dressed down to only look moderately out of place in a rough-and-tumble place like Ironbrew's. He's been sharing an out-of-the-way corner table with the youngest Swadling, Djusco, but the half-Oruch quits their conversation and the bar entirely with some other duty at hand. It leaves the gnome frustrated and disappointed, his crimson suit with bronze-stitched trim glittering as he gives up the corner seat and heads towards the barman. A whole quarter of the place smells of his lavender perfumes, a trick of the draft coming off the wall where he'd been seated.

The half-mul looks up from her thoughts at the hail from, "Merek. It's been..." Months, "a while, how are you?" Recently back after 'family business' took her from Alexandria for some time. The doings of the rest of the tavern have been largely outside her concern until they brush up directly against her own.

Or, based on the teeth, her person.

The repackaged soul gives the place a once over, taking stock, then, "Not your usual haunt....?" she muses, while Jinks ventures toward the bar behind them.

Merek will think about it a moment, and looks then to Strike while he will nod to the woman, "Well, there was the whole, otyugh in the tree." With that, he will write a note about the shipment which is brought to him, then he will take the time to look towards the woman, "You are doing well? There's... A lot on my mind." A look then to Jinks along with a nod, while he thinks.

A place like this has a few advantages; a small handful of coins tinkles to rest on the bar in exchange for a recycled green glass bottle of rotgut. It's not the sort of thing at home in a decanter, sniffed, tasted, and spit into a bucket but it'll get you were you need to be. Jinks jumps up onto the brass rail for feet and reaches far enough to grab the neck of the bottle before bouncing off and turning away. His coat if fur-lined, a concession made for weather's sake, and his onyx-black eyes have dark, restless bags supporting them. "You're not wrong," he answers either. Both.

"Ran into Karelin here, a couple nights ago." Strike commends casually.

She shrugs, "Not a moment I felt much need to hold onto." the takes a swig of her beer.

Her dark eyes track the vector of, "Jinks" and inquires, "Are you alright?"

The flicks a glance to Merek and replies, "Doing better, thank you."

Merek looks to the drink which he is given to check, then he will take a drink from that mead, while he listens to everyone. "Karelin, he doing alright?" he asks, wondering what was probably meant by that, then he looks to Jinks. The man then will cough a little bit into a glove, blood marring upon the palm while he sighs, then he takes another drink. "Well. It's nice always to see people, and all."

Jinks pauses, considering the corner table and the empty seats around it. "I need to talk to someone. Don't want to talk to them." He tilts his head halfway through the explanation, turning then to consider Merek. He grunts as his pops the cork on the glass growler, flaring his fingers and rolling his wrists as the stopper seems to vanish into thin air. He reels a bit at the warrior's name, "Karelin. Huh." He draws from the neck, glugging as he flares his nostrils and turns to take in the room. As if expecting the fellow to manifest from thin air. He winces, choking down the drink, and furrows his brow at Merek. "When are your insides going to stop trying to jump out?" A quick cant of his chin at the bloody palm.

"I've found need and want aren't commonly aligned." Strike returns, gesturing to her table, "Still... we were comrades, maybe I can... help." she returns with a uncertain smile of optimism.

She considers Merek on his question and nods, "Much better, his... condition seems to have abated, though I'm... fuzzy on the particulars."

With a brow arched, she wonders, "How long has that cough been going on....?"

"No, it isn't going to get better. It's been like that since I was brought back," Merek will note along to the two. "It's a new body, although... There are things that even it can't manage likely. I've got enough in me for making sure that a few tasks are complete. Don't worry about me." The man looks along to Strike while he thinks about it, lifting a hand to pat the woman on the shoulder, then a nod to Jinks. "That would depend upon which. I talked to a sith for you. I know you asked me not to. While they aren't too happy with you, I think that there is a path for you forward. I would begin with Sey." The man takes a drink of mead.

Jinks stifles a rolling belch with the back of his hand, mounting a stool for someone twice his height with a practiced ease, and taking a seat across from Strike. "The silver sith has come around," he smirks at Merek, shaking his head and kicking his foot out in pantomime. "Crushed that unconscious tallman's face; a far cry from the bleeding heart that wanted to sit down to tea with the man-eating cult of kobolds." He rolls his fingers, the many rings making a sequential and descending sound as they plink against the glass bottle. "If the miserable, dumb mul wasn't her shadow that conversation would be easy." The gnome glances at Strike and gives a quick shake of his head, just for clarities sake. He doesn't mean her. "No...." a heavy sigh, "I need to find time with the white one. Cryosanthia. That will be a misery."

There is, despite her long period of adjustment, a slight flicker of expression on Merek's 'new body' turning out just like his old one.

Mostly.

Mileage may vary.

"You weren't this fond of enigma, before." Strike notes dryly as Merek describes going to that place to do that thing with that person this one time, but her attention turns to Jinks, as it was more directed his way in any case, so his response may be more informative.

Blink.

Or probably not.

"We've met....?" she notes quizzically.

Merek looks then to Strike while he thinks about it, and will nod a little bit. "We saved all of the entire world, almost no one will ever know." With that, he will take a drink of mead, and look into the liquid, while he looks to Jinks. "You don't want to meet Cryosanthia. This is not the time to talk to her about Kobolds." Then he takes the time to watch the flame, "Lily was killed by that Duke of Demons."

The man seems to be a bit angrier than before, his rage cool and a little bit calm, even the flame seems to begin shifting while frost will frame the drinking mug which he keeps with him. Then he coughs a bit more into the palm while he waits, "Anyway. That's not a talk you want to really look for."

"Of course." Jinks tells Strike, shock-white eyebrows playing seesaw at her. He shifts in the seat, turning to address Merek at the man begins to speak but stops, flinching as if struck at the revelation of Lily's death. His mouth opens and closes, a fish exploring a new tank. "No. That's not right." He challenges Merek. His eyes narrow. Nostrils flare. "You're mistaken."

The news isn't as... devastating to Strike as it is to many, though, clearly she recognizes the name, "Give her my condolences, please." she says softly.

She considers the tankard in her hand for a moment, then seems to think better of it and sets it aside.

There's a glance between the men, ending on Jinks to guage his response, "I can't confirm or deny, I'm afraid." she comments, unable to offer her old comrade any comfort in that regard.

Merek looks between the two while he thinks about it. He will try to not really show his emotion, while he nods to Jinks. The man doesn't really try to answer. He doesn't try to tell him that it is a thing, and will not really tell him if that isn't. Sometimes, people need to process. Then he takes a drink of that mead while he nods to Strike, "I will." The man looks pretty withdrawn and distant, a lot different probably than the usual when it comes to him.

Jinks watches Merek. He just stares at the man trying to sort out the clues and hints of expression. He pushes away from the table and half-stumbles down to the ground. His scowl is tortured and ugly as he steadies against the tall chair. "That was me," he admits numbly, blinking. "I killed a child." He turns, pushing off the chair and moving towards the door out of the bar, leaving behind the bottle of rotgut for someone else to brave.

The Metal wrapped in Meat stands in the wake of Merek's acquiescence, her coached neutrality allowed to erode to unveiled concern as Jinks takes responsibility for the actions of a demon.

She glances at the Seer a moment, then neatly vaults the table to pursue, "Jinks!" trusting her diligent training and loftier stems will allow her to overtake the Gnome before he gets himself into mischief.

"You didn't," Merek will offer to Jinks, "The Duke did. You don't have anything to do with that crazy Duke of Demons." Then he watches the man while he walks to the door, standing up while he will walk that way. "Jinks, stay here please." The man nods along to Strike.

Jinks stops in his path, sidestepping away from Strike and turning. His legs won't carry him faster than the tallmen; he knows that. A bejewled hand goes inside his open coat, pressing to his left breast and rubbing idly. "I did." Another step back and to one side. The three of them describe a triangle on the bar floor. "He sent me here. He was going to drag me back... there. He wanted someone; Mikilos. Serene. The sith woman; I tried to warn her..."

The half-mul's head pivots slightly to the side Merek's at without drawing her eyes fully from Jinks as the hand goes into his coat, "I'm not you're enemy, Jinks, please... take your hand out of there..."

Her expression is thoughtful, brows knit in puzzled consternation, "They can move quickly... Jinks... please..."

<OOC> Merek ponders this moral dilemma.
<OOC> Merek says, "Would Jinks avoid being slapped?"
<OOC> Jinks says, "Probably reflexively but I think it's fair to say Merek can get the drop on him."
GAME: Merek rolls melee: (12)+12: 24

Merek will begin to watch Jinks when he begins to admit that. Then he takes the time to think about it, while he will look then to Strike. The man turns all of his attention to the gnome. The man then will draw back a hand and slap Jinks across the face. One might wonder if he was going to kill the gnome, he knew Lily well. Though something else would come from that general reflection in his mind. "SNAP OUT OF IT!" He then takes the man by the shirt which he wears.

"You didn't kill anyone. The Duke did, he would've taken you and Lily. He would do anything. When he took me for all those months to torture me, he still took the person that I was trying to protect. You have the power to make it right. You will not let yourself come to what he wants you to be. You are not a murderer." The man watches the gnome, "Do you understand? You're doing what the Duke, wants you to do. We don't do that. We don't follow that path. Like I told everyone else. We don't travel that path."

Jinks gives a yawp of surprise at the slap, lifting his hands to grab at Merek's wrists when the tallman looms over him, grabbing at his coat and shirt. "I have his mark on me, dream of his court every night, Merek. He comes to me when I sleep. He finds me alone, awake. He wanted Cryosanthia and I gave him the little pink kobold so he wouldn't take me back. I didn't slaughter the cow, tallman, but I brought her to the butcher's."

Strike wasn't in the mode to bodyguard Jinks.

She considered Merek's somewhat dispassionate standing as he laid things out to reduce him to a non-combatant in regards to the Gnome.

Clearly the Meat is making her careless.

Remediation required.

She looks to Merek in the wake of the slap, brow arching, then swivels her gaze back to Jinks, "You weren't the hand that did the deed." she says softly.

"You're responsible, Jinks. You are, that does not mean you can just run off and not deal with it," Merek will explain to him, while he places the gnome on the ground. "And, from what you said before, you clearly didn't think he would try to take Lily. I know the way the Duke works." Then he takes the time to sigh while he thinks about it, "Lily can be brought back. If you follow a god, I would suggest you talk to them, and a cleric, about what you can do to make amends. Meanwhile, I've got a Duke that I need to kill."

Jinks tugs at his shirt, then his coat; pulling it all down and back into place. "Braggadocio aside, tallman, this creature has thwarted Seldan and seeks a weakness to vanquish Serene. You might as well aim to kill Mulria." He sighs, shaking his head at Merek and Strike. "He knew the kobolds 'aunt.' Aya. How many other agents does he have in this city?" The gnome doesn't argue his culpability. His relationship with morality being what it is he still understands the vile nature of his actions.

"Even Gods can die." Strike replies smoothly, looking between the pair, trying to determine if she's going to put palmprints on anyone just yet.

She gives that a second to percolate, then, "I haven't met this demon, I had business to take care of that have kept me out of the city for a few months."

Merek looks then to Jinks, while he nods a bit. "Well, we will still be able to, I know a way." The man then will shift that attention to Strike, "I wouldn't think about it. We're working to keep him from doing things with the nobility." The man takes a cigarette from a pack with him, then places that in his mouth to light. "I apologize. You were a bit well." The man nods a little bit along to Jinks.

"Good luck with that." Jinks offers flatly, lifting a hand to rub again at his chest beneath the coat. "Look. I appreciate the... words of encouragement." He doesn't sound like his does. "I just need some time." The gnome already looked tired and tonight's revelations have taken the wind entirely from his sails. He glances at the floor and then just shakes his head, weaving between the tables and heading for the door; not to be stopped this time.

Karelin pushes in through the door, looking a little hollow-eyed and sweaty -- the kind of look that makes one fear for the Coliseum's less grizzled participants. He dodges the outgoing Jinks, then looks back into the room, an eyebrow raised.

Strike shrugs, "The nobility will always have some... naughty peers."

She waves after Jinks as he heads out with new purpose, but, doesn't feel a 'good night' to be.... warranted.

Instead, as Karelin 'olay's the departing Gnome, she turns his way, "Oh, Karelin, I was just talking about you..."

New subject-go!

Merek looks to the cigarette while he thinks about it, watching Jinks go. Then he turns that attention to Karelin, and nods along to Strike while he thinks about it. He seems to be mentally tired while he thinks about what to really mention in the conversation. "Strike, would you like to get a drink sometime, now that you are back?" he asks, then to the guy, "It's been a while, you are doing alright and all?" he asks.

Karelin's head comes up, and he lifts his hand. "Hey, Strike!" He pauses for a beat "Was that why my ears were burning in my last bout?" He swipes his hand through his sweaty hair, and waves at the bar for a drink. He then follows in his wave to pay, A glance back towards Merek. "How's your new body treating you?"

Strike turns to Merek as he asks his question, a brow peaking slightly before she gestures back toward the table she'd vacated in her... pursuit...(?) of Jinks.

She nods to Karelin, "Possibly.. is that really a thing that happens?" she returns with some puzzlement before turning to return to the abandoned furniture, and her beer, waving the warrior along for he trip as well.

Merek will think about that, and will nod to Karelin. "It's about as well as you would expect," the man notes. Then he walks along and to that table. He does brush a hand along his cheek and the thick stubble there, while he tries to be a bit mindful of the place. Then he picks up his mead to drink from that. He does try to keep the palm with blood upon it from notice by the man. And looks a little bit distant about it all.

Karelin actually laughs. "No, I just got caught with a nice counter on the ear." He reaches up and touches it absently, as he escorts his own beer back to a chair. "What was it? Can't have been that interesting, though." I mean, he's happy to follow, though. Whether Karelin sees the blood or not, he gives little sign of commenting, though.

Strike shrugs, "Decisions were made with unpleasant consequences that..." a glance to Merek, "Were recently relayed to the involved parties." She doesn't seem unfazed by the affair, so much as not close enough to it to be openly troubled, even for one as emotive as she can be when she isn't paying attention.

Slipping back into her seat, she picks up her beer and flags down a bargirl for a round for the table.

Merek looks to the cigarette, and will nod to Karelin a little bit. Then he settles along next to Strike while he takes a drink. "Ya, that's about right." The man of course is a bit, well. It is clear that it's affected him more than he will care to share. And with what they learned tonight, it looks like he has been distantly in his memories. "More alcohol please," he offers to the bargirl.

Karelin's eyes flick to the cigarette distastefully, but settles in, stretching his legs out. He sips on his beer, and nods. "Another here, too." He shrugs and nods. "Well, consequences happen." Then he looks around. "Sorry, I'm famished -- anybody hungry?"

"I could eat." Strike replies, then looks to the bargirl, "The round is on me. Another beer, here." She glances at Merek, then, "I could eat. How about you?"

Merek puts out the cigarette, then he takes a look along to Strike, when he finally notices what was asked by Karelin only asked by the half-elf. "I would like... Well, a little. I don't need to eat anymore. Although, I wouldn't mind you know, doing it for the taste," he will admit. "Maybe hash browns."

Karelin nods, and looks to the bargirl. "Plate of meat, some sausages, some bread, the hashbrowns Merek wants, and whatever Strike wants. I'll pay." He takes another long pull on his beer, and sits back, smiling.

The half-mul gives the men a quick betwixt glance as the round of 'on my tab' starts, but she shrugs and leaves the matter lie.

"That does sound good."

Merek nods a bit along to Karelin, he doesn't mind really who will pay, while he takes the time to drink from the next mead which comes to him, then he's speaking. "What have you been up to since our most recent thing?" he asks. Then a look to Strike, "You been doing alright after keeping busy?" he asks.

Karelin takes another sip. "Soaking it out. Fucking magic got /everywhere/." A shrug. "Otherwise? Training. Sucks being rusty." He glances over at Strike, and nods. "Yup."

"I'm thinking about the next stage of my life." Strike replies, reaching for her beer, swirling it in the tankard, then taking a swig.

She sighs, then, "Perhaps explore the world? There are still corners I haven't seen."

Merek looks then to Strike, and will nod a little bit, "I... Don't know what to do. I have a task to complete, then that will be all for me. It's... Well, you know. Different, to know that kind of thing. After all of this though, when we finally win. Maybe, that's my reward. I will get to take a break from it all, and never need to deal with it again." The hand lifts the mead to his mouth to take a drink.

Nodding once at that, she reaches out for a sausage as the tray arrives, and she works on that for a spell in contemplative silence.

"What did you want to do before all this started?" she asks, finally.

"I don't know. I would've liked to fish, make artifice, and keep a whole family of aquarium fish," Merek will admit, while he takes a look to Strike, then back to the drink, "Did you have anything in mind before all of this?" the man asks.

Strike shrugs, "I'm between preoccupations." she replies, setting her drink down.

"Perhaps, I could try to teach languages at the Guild... so adventurers can relay messages without alerting their enemies."

Merek will nod a little bit along to Strike, while he thinks about it, "Well, I think that would be wonderful." The man tries to offer a smile, though, that doesn't show all that well while he takes a drink...