Drink More
Tenebrae - Wednesday, June 22, 2016, 1:48 AM
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=<* 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.
Nicolai is at the bar at the edge of a small knot of giantborn, each drinking from huge steins and bellowing laughter. If there was a joke it's long been forgotten, and several of the huge figures seem ready to forget everything else as well and pass out.
Krom threads his way though the tables with practiced ease, heading towards the bar proper to speak with the barkeep. The large laughter brings casual attention, and the northman nods politely as he make eye contact, before turning his attention back to the task of aquireing a drink. a bit difficult, sicne the menu has changed since last he checked.
Nicolai and his friends finally break up their party. Two of the larger giantborn finish their drinks and stumble out of the door, helping each other stand. A grey-bearded giant of a man collapses into a chair in a darkened corner, and immediately falls asleep. Nico wavers a bit and then heads for the bar. "I'd like to close out the tab," he says with the elaborate care of someone trying not to slur.
Krom sighs, eyeing the scrawled slate, and shrugs. "Krom will try the 'Myrrish Gold Spiced Stout', and then the 'Jade Ice Ale'. Both hold promise, but Krom has been mistaken before." He nods to Nicolai. "Good eve. Reason to celebrate, or celebrate as it's own reason?"
Nicolai practically crosses his eyes as he tried to think. "The latter I think," he finally replies. "I'm Nicolai." He thumps his pitcher-sized stein down on the bar. "Ale!" he howls. Then he lowers his voice to a conspiratory whisper, "Like to keep it simple," he confides.
Krom nods, and lightly thumps his own chest. "Krom Linnbane, grandchild of Boadic." Spoken as if you should know who that is. "Typically, yes, ale is ale. But when the tavern is dedicated to a trickster, Krom think is wise to know exactly what is being served."
Nicolai laughs uproariously. He picks up his stein and takes a long drink. "True enough!" he bellows. "But then, Coyote's followers aren't known for our wisdom!" He raises his stein and bellows, "To Tarienites - may they never learn!!" Voices raise from arounf the tavern in agreement, along with a smattering of yips and howls. "Well met, Krom Linnbbane grandchild of Boadic! Where do you hail from!"
Krom laughs, and raises his mug a little belatedly as it arrives, before taking a long pull. Krom blinks, and eyes the contents a moment before taking a second swig, and nodding in approval. "Krom hails from the Great Valley of Mestnorr, north of all things. Which whom does Krom have the honor of drinking?"
Nicolai says, "Nicolai! Tarienite! Explorer! Adventurer!" He takes another long drink. "I've just returned from Rune. The long way!" He bellows a laugh as if making a joke. Who knows, maybe he is. "Mestnorr, Mestnorr...can't say I've ever been."
Krom nods. "Few have. Far north, beyond the lands of Drani, beyond the ice fields, well into the mountains at the top of the world. Remote, secluded, but it is home."
Nicolai whistles softly. "Sounds like a wondrous place. Perhaps I'll visit one day. How many days journey, by horse?"
Krom grins, and shakes his head. "Don't know, never tried by horse. The craigs of the ice field are too brken for horse, took three days to cross. The tundra fields are easier, but not as direct. Merchants make the trip in spring, not sure how long they take."
Nicolai scratches at his chin. "Crags? Ice fields?? That does it - now I have to make the trip!" he finishes his drink and drops a few more coins on the bar. "Fare well, Krom!" He takes a few unsteady steps towards the door. Pausing in the doorway he assures the room that "I'm okay!" before he steps out and stumbles off down the street.