Baz in da Tarr-RARR-Racy
Log Info
- Title: Baz in da Tarr-RARR-Racy
- Emitter: Venom
- Characters: Baz da Ork, Venom, Paenitia, Sabina
- Place: A03: The TarRaCe
- Time: Wednesday, March 17, 2021, 11:07 PM
- Summary: Venom enters the TarRaCe in disguise as one of her alternate, speaking personas. She is not there long before Baz beats up a few things outside, and storms in looking for some food and a chair that will support him. He joins Vanessa, who avoids introducing herself, and they discuss battle and weapons. Paenitia arrives, convincing Ramirez to remain outside, even though her peacock-hippogryph knows there is another peacock around to challenge. She joins Baz and Vanessa(Venom) as Baz falls asleep. Sabina enters, with Lord Emp, who responds to Ramirez's challenge but then is silenced. A fight is avoided. Discussion continues around the unconscious ork, and Paenitia goes into detail about her recent activities, which have been numerous. Finally, Aimarra's pursuer is mentioned and they Fade to Wine.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* The TarRaCe *>--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Inside, this two-story structure has been almost completely opened up. Generous windows on both stories allow daytime sunlight and cooling night breezes to flow in as needed, while the brick walls have been whitewashed - contrasting with the dark-stained beams and supports, and the rich polish on the wooden floor. A broad strip of stone runs from the entrance to a framed doorway set into the opposite wall, with a sign above the lintel declaring that the baths are to be found that way.
The ground floor is sprinkled with tables and chairs of assorted sizes, offering welcome to guests both large and small. One whole corner of the building - into which guests are not permitted entry - has been given over to the kitchen, which serves as the domain of the famed monster chef Ligum Serforus. Mundane meals are available, but the chef delights in offering up obscure dishes made from the freshest of monster ingredients.
Opposite the kitchen a small bar runs in front of an array of shelves, displaying a broad selection of beverages (most of them alcoholic). The bar-top has been fashioned from what looks to have been old pieces of armor, fused and welded together before being polished to provide a near-smooth finish. Set above it, three human-sized statues have been built into an alcove in the wall: Tarien, Rada and Ceinara jointly keep benevolent watch over the room and its occupants.
To the right of the entrance, a small stage offers a platform for a handful of performers at a time. To the left of the door, a spiral staircase of wrought iron winds its way up to a balcony dining area, that is chiefly reserved for special events and parties.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Appearing, in Order -=-=-=-=-=-=-= Venom 5'6" 130 Lb Human Female A woman(?) about 5'6" in a ragged black veil and poncho. Baz da Ork 7'0" 320 Lb Orc Male 7' 320 pounds of metal, muscle and stupid. WAAAGH! Paenitia 3'0" 34 Lb Halfling Female A Lucht knight, dark skinned in bold feathery finery. Sabina 5'4" 130 Lb Human Female Tsuran woman of dark hair and green eyes -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
There's a bit of a lively scene, tonight, as the weather has been mild enough to allow more people to venture out for entertainment and good food.
Amongst the revelers, ink hair still damp, a fit Acanian woman of humble graces clad in the common peasant blouse/bodice combination, though with loose sailcloth trousers of mottled blues and folded halfboots, makes her way to a table. She glances about from a face slightly downcast, only to settle into a seat along the back wall.
Mild weather? Places to go? Food to eat? There is a commotion outside as the massive armored Ork has a mild disagreement. ~RAAWRR / THUD~ Is heard as Baz rears back and clocks an armored rider off his horse. Then a few moments later another ~RAAAWR / THUD~ Is repeated as the horse itself is slobernocked into the street. As the wide doors of the establishment are thrown open, the pair can be seen spasming on the cobbles behind while Baz strides within.
"Awww, I'm thirsty! Ale! Stew! Bread!" A thick black tongue runs along the protruding tusks. The massive Ork makes his way into the room proper and lifts up a chair to sniff at it. "Oy, feel like I'm gonna break dis! Where do da men sit?"
The shifting ambiance brings the woman's attention back over her shoulder to the door, dark eyes curious beneath an arched eyebrow. The large, spikey orc is certainly a sight, and the Acanian gives him an overt lookover, while the waitstaff( and the guests near the entrance) are momentarily at a loss for the spectacle. She leans to one side and looks to the chair opposite hers...
The chair is quickly handed to another patron and Baz looms over one of the occupied benches at a longer table. "Oy, youse, piss orf!" He bellows at trio of patrons on the bench, who hastily comply. Lifting the bench he caries towards one of the walls and slumps it down before a table there. One that just happens to have a simply garbed Venom on the other side. The huge Ork slumps down onto the bench and waits a moment as the wood groans in protest at the multi-hundreds of pounds of metal and Ork burden it.
"May Kor bless dis table, those at it, and the meal dey about to eat." The Big Ork says with a wide grin as his ale is quickly dumped before him, as well as a loaf of bread. The stew seemingly on the way. Sniffing the bread, and then the ale the Ork seems to decide to taste the later first, swilling back the contents before he eyes Venom. "Oy, yer hair is wet." He states.
While having to fight her food, or for it, isn't exactly one of her current ambitions, the woman bows her head with a smooth, "Thank you and be welcome." in response to his valediction. She still has a curious tinge to her expression, but probably not fearful, and her hands part to settle on the table. She turns her chin slightly and glances sidelong at her locks and nods, "A little. It feels nice." then her attention turns to the server, "Corned beef and ale, please?"
Server off to see to that, the woman notes, "You look like you've fought many hard battles."
There is a 'narrfmmf' as the massive Ork takes a mouthful of bread, chews and washes it down with ale. "Does it? Feel nice? I never had hair so I wouldn't know." The Ork grins and chuckles. Then he glances after the server. "Oh yeah, one of dem corn beef fings and more ale, and me stew." With a chortle the big Ork turns back towards the simply dressed woman.
"I have served Kor in many battles, yes." Baz says as he puffs up with pride, making the leather straps on his armor creak. "Yet Kor demands more, he has no seen fit tae let me die in glorious war!" The Ork takes a long pull on his ale and eyes Venom. He sniffs a few times and grins. "Smells like blood." He says simply with a grin.
The woman gets a sort of contemplative look in her eyes, perhaps trying to find a proper phrasing to properly convey the idea, and looks into his eyes, "Have you ever draped a cool, wet cloth on your head after a hard fight on a hot day?" She doesn't blink at the mention of blood, but simply rolls a shoulder but, her hands do have the subtle callouses of a fighter.
Baz goes quiet, or at least does not speak. The noises he makes as he attacks the stew when it arrives are probably loud on the other side of the building. Bread in stew, in mouth, repeat. Then slowly once whatever ravenous fury is calmed, he nods. Pushing the empty bowl away after dragging the last of the bread along the bottom. He glances left and right for the corned beef as he comments.
"I think I know what you mean. But I doubt yer heart is pounding. The blood in your ears, on your skin, in your nose, your mouth. You can feel the pain in your bones, the rents in the flesh. A hard fight burns the body from within and sometimes without. Hah!" The Big Ork chortles and continues. "Dem axes or swords or arrows that yer armor did not stop. Feel dem wounds leaking your life out, each pump of the heart spilling it on the ground. It almost peaceful." Baz grins and smiles wide. "Yeah, most little girls your size would have already run screaming from dis table. Ye gotz ice in yer veins or had iron in yer guts."
The woman aceepts her order with a little smile and a, "Thank you." to the server, then arranges them before her. Her head cants a little as the boisterous orc goes silent, then he returns an appraisal of her own bearing. She gives herself a quick glance, then, "You think so?" in genuine curiosity. She really doesn't seem to have an aswer for that.
The big Ork sniffs the corned beef when it arrives. He handles it with his gloved fingers and then carefully pulls out a wickedly curved knife. The kind of blade meant to get up between plates of armor and cut into flesh behind them. He carves off a strip of the beef and eats then nods slowly.
"Yeah, dats good. Good mix of fat and meat." Chortling the Ork takes a pull on his most recent ale, the other having been emptied. "Yeh, I think so." Baz adds, then belches. "I bets I could prove it too." His free hand drops to the strange sabre at his side. As his fingers touch the hilt of the blade there is an audible inhale as if the weapon comes alive under his touch. Then the big Ork chortles again. "But whats da point? You gots a reason for dis I finks." Baz says to plainly dressed Venom as the two sit at a table near the door. Venom with her back to the wall on one side, and Baz splayed across a stolen bench on the other.
The woman watches the play of the orc's knife, even as her own fingers deftly take the more modest knife provided by the house to her own meal, "For this?" she wonders in counter. Query made, she pops a cube of beef into her mouth and starts to chew. There's a faint note of satisfaction, and the woman swallows, chasing it with a swig of her tankard.
The door to the TarRaCe doesn't slam open in a dramatic entrance. Try as she might, the red garbed halfling Knight can't put enough oomph behind it. Also, she is not in the mood to challenge a whole tavern, although that has happened on occasion.
"No! Ramirez. Wait out. Do not let what punched the horse punch you." The Red knight calls over her shoulder to something that responds with a loud sort of neigh-squawk, 'Rruuaaah!' A noise that is oddly peacock-like, but much deeper.
The Red Knight strides strongly in, bare feet quietly striking the floor. She is visible first as a wide brimmed red-hat, with a gigantic white feather with crimson eyes, moving at head-height. It's not clear what she's seeking, until she arrives near Venom and Baz's table.
"Ah ha!" The little Lucht sounds cheerful, whatever her real expression is, it's hidden behind a metal mask which has a stylized man's face, complete with mustache. Her exclamation is for the Ork.
Without warning, Baz faints backwards in his chair, head thrown back with his mouth wide open in a raucous snore. A long rattle that ends with an unexpected hork, then snort. Some silence, and it repeats again. Some people might be offended by this interrupting their meal. As even an unconscious Baz does not care about that, he farts proudly, long and trumpeting, ensuring that everyone is disturbed.
It's been a long day. He's tired. Are YOU gonna tell him he can't sleep there?
The dark haired woman's attention is once again pulled over her shoulder to the doorway behind her, another hunk of corned beef spearead on her fork. A brow stands high on her expression as the little woman and the.... bird(?) have a debate about occupancy. She doesn't seem terribly distressed by the mask, though the choice of design is certainly... not one she would have expected, still, "Hello." the Acanian says.
"Hola!" The little woman says, looking up at the Acanian in the humble clothes, her dark curls bouncing around her mask. "I am Sister Paenitia Snapdragon del Haranna, Knight of the Pillar and seeking those in need of Charity."
She laughs at herself, a bodyshaking chuckle, "To eat here, perhaps, none in need be found. I seek loud company, it remind me of taverns from home. Your friend, he is the loudest. I may join your table?"
There's a glance at the orc and a little smirk of amusement and she nods, "Call me Venessa. Come, sit and be welcome." she returns smoothly with a casual roll of her wrist toward another seat at the table.
After a moment, "Is your.... bird going to be alright?"
Paenitia chooses a tall seat that will let her participate more easily. She hops up with a clank, she's in her armour, making her more substantial. She nods vigorously, looking at the door. "He is a wild beast, but he will listen. He knows a rival lives here and wishes to challenge. I know to keep them apart, he will strut and squawk to call him out but will be fine. He know to call if there real trouble."
A gloved hand is extended, a well worn gauntlet with a rusted patina on the plates that matches the rest of her armour, "Well met Venessa. What is the best food here?"
Venessa accepts the hand and gives a shake, "It must have been interesting teaching him the difference." she notes. There's a momentary pause and she glances down at her plate, then across to one of Baz's, who seems to be in his own space, at the moment, "The stew smells good, but so far all I've tried is the corned beef, which is very nice."
Sabina steps down the circular stair from above, taking her time as well as taking in those gathered in the Tarrace. Her mithral halfmask on and peacock riding apon her shoulder. She offers waves at those she knows as well as warm smiles. Emp, the peacock, letting out a cry as well, but that being more of a 'notice me!' sort of thing.
A cry answers from outside! A much larger, deeper and powerful version of Lord Emp's 'notice me' noise. Ramirez's rival has answered! He calls again, a clear 'fight me!' challenge.
"No! Ramirez, stay!" Paenitia calls loudly at the door, then sighs in exasperation, "The men and their hot passions. Hola Sabina." The wave is returned.
The Acanian brunette looks up to the sound of the new entrant and her bird, noting, she too, is masked.
Clearly she's overlooked something important.
Venessa turns a curious eye to the door at the beefy reply the peacock warrants and asides, "Sometimes it's good." Then she looks to the shiny masked woman and lifts a hand to wave, "Hello."
There is a chuckle from Bina as well as a shake of her head. "Boys will be boys in that way. At least some of them. Usually the brighter the plumage the louder the voice to go with it. Alas.. it should have been the females that had the bright plumage." She reaches the bottom of the steps and leans in to have a word with a server before heading towards Paenitia. Emp opens his beak to let out another cry but a finger and thumb pinch the beack closed. "That's enough, Emp. If Ramirez bursts in here looking for you I'm blaming you, not him."
Paenitia laughs, in as good spirits as her mask implies. The little beak pinch, that enlivens her immensely. As the moments pass with no answer, Ramirez tries again with a huge squawk, muffled by the distance and doors.
"Ramirez! You prevail! He has fled." Paenitia calls out. Their little domestic exchange interrupts and occupies the attention of the TarRaCe patrons, but it seems the drama is over. For now.
Outside, a proud peacock-gypsy-andalusian struts about in triumph then does a little dance, which alas, cannot be appreciated from inside.
"My thanks and my apologies. Ramirez does not like to live all day in the stables. I hoped a ride here would be enough, but it warms him." The Red Knight dips her head.
Venessa gives a laugh, herself, a hand coming up to her mouth. Hmm, "Boys will be boys, but the girls know how to steer it." She toasts with her tankard and, "This is a nice place." she notes.
Emp gives an indignat sound and feathers poof and ruffle about. 'Flee?! Poppycock!' is the general emotion behind the motions. He pecks at Bina's head once for the beak squeeze and then settles in, secure in the knowledge that the Tarrace is his roost.
Bina turns towards Venessa and gives a nod of her head in greeting. "Thank you. My friends and I have tried hard to make it so. Let me know if there is something that could make it better."
"The chairs, they are right sized. I do not complain." Paenitia adds. She gazes around, the TarRaCe is excellent, there's very little she could suggest. "The cantinas of Isobar, have the smoking rooms where the cards are played. I do not think it would improve. It is the only thing I do not see."
"The baths are very nice." Venessa replies, considering the place once more again, but doesn't seem to have any particular critiques to add. She doesn't have a lot of room, but she scoots over some in her seat so if Sabina wishes the join, there's some room.
Bina chuckle as she takes the offered spot that Venessa makes. "Thank you.", she says to the woman. Then to Paenitia she smiles. "Ahh.. They are the right size because I was first taught the priesthood by my mentor who was a Lucht. Bless him but he complained so everywhere we went that the big folk made the world to large for right sized peoples."
"Your mentor, he speaks the truth." Paenitia says with a happy lilt to her voice, gesturing wildly around at the room. "So extravagant, the ceilings so tall. It is fine, it is like living in the paintings where everything is grand. I am glad of the right sized chairs. I shall visit more."
She turns her body to face Sabina as she seats herself, "Since we last see each other, Ramirez and I have great success."
Sometimes it takes a reminder that reasonable size is a relative thing.
Venessa, settled into her new spot makes another foray into her meal and smile, "You're welcome." But, as the two friends start catching up, she seems content to settle into the background to let them do that.
"I will need the ale, the big one, there is much to tell." Paenitia says to Sabina, lokoing around for a server. Her order is made, with the Red Knight adding, "And wine."
Turning to show her mask to the table, she leans eagerly towards Sabina, then Venessa, and then decides to direct her story at the proprietor and nudges closer to Sabina again.
"I do not see the small goblin we meet at Tarien's Temple. I hope to, and assist her on her quest. There is a great meeting of the Knightly Orders. I meet and drink with a good number of them. They hold back, even without armour they are move tight, keep the distance. Cool embers, not the warmth."
She raps the knuckles of her gauntlets together, "My friend, Dame Betrys, I assist her with the armor plating. She is much better with the blood washed out."
The large mug of ale arrives, and Paenitia takes a long sip. Her shoulders slump slightly, her next piece of news has some unpleasantness to it. "Next I join comrades from the Explorer's Guild. We go against Ceilia the Serpent. The battle is hard, Ramirez does well, but the arguments happen after. The banditos surrender to me, and there is dispute if we let them go or turn them to the guard to be executed. One woman is hard. The other two, their stories pulls the heart strings, stir the tears. I try help them to change their ways."
She rouses, "After, more banditos. They hold goblins as slaves, make them work the fields. I ride with my friend, Dame Betrys, and others. We free them. It is like I am back in Isobar. This, I am proud of."
Her mask is always smiling, so it's impossible to tell her expression, but Paenitia sounds like she is grinning, "Next, we search for lost livestock for Dratir Bjornson. We find! They are eaten by the giant rosebush. It is a strange fight, many vines lashing. Ramirez, he is the loyal steed again, taking the injuries and inflicting many."
Another long swig of ale, "After that, I do acts of Charity in the Temple, helping with the healing. I meet the comrade from the battles with Celia's Highwaywomen, Aimarra. She is very injured from a fight with a manticore, and speaks of a strange man after her."
Paenitia leans towards Venessa now, winking behind her mask, "Not the dark stranger we all wish for, ha ha!"
Venessa listens to the the Lucht's tale, puzzling over certain snippets of dialogue, and processing them as best she can. 'Washed out?' hmm.
She pauses in her dining, switching for her ale as the stories continue, but as Paenitia turns things toward her, the comment of the dark stranger prompts a thoughtful, "To the Right One..." this annoited with a toast of her tankard....
"Ha ha! Yes! To the right one!" Paenitia raises her tankard in a toast. "Now, you must tell me your tales..."
Fade to Wine.