Open What will we do with the drunken sailor

It's late at night and a drunken voss is stumbling his way back home.

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Center of scholarly knowledge and shipwrighting, Zeltiva is a port city unlike any other in Mizahar. [Lore]

What will we do with the drunken sailor

Postby Voss on December 2nd, 2013, 5:11 pm

oocJust to keep the thread from overcrowding. I would like to keep the people in it limited to 4 total. Also if you're going to try to con him out of any money. Or try to pickpocket him or something. Feel free to do so if your char would. Just keep in mind, he's going home after a bender. So he has about 3 and a half lino still in his pocket.

2th of winter 513 late in the evening

Voss was stumbling through the street that seemed to stretch on and on to his addled mind. He felt slightly numb though. But he wasn't sure that was caused by the amount of kelp beer he drunk today. Or of the cold since he was still wasn't wearing real winter clothing. He shrugged it and just continued too stumble through the streets. Wathever the problem was, when he woke up in his bed tomorrow the problem would be solved whatever the cause was anyway. He continued singing off key and horribly out of tone.

"I'd take any beer then life
I'll take a good keg over strife
I'd prefer to confer with a pint of ale
then to live a long life till me private parts fail

For life without beer is to no avail
so bring me beer for life!

For riches bring thieves of great stealth.
The wealthy drink wine and on pheasant they dine,
But give me a keg and a fine turkey leg
And I'll eat"


Voss didn't manage to finish the last sentence of that verse, his stomach contracted, the street began to spin even worse then it had been just a few moments ago and he tasted bile. He grabbed the nearest wall to hold himself for support; But before he could even find a can, or some kind of barrel so that he didn't puke all over the street his stomach decided it couldn't wait anymore and he vomited. Splattering his own boots, part of his pants and a good part of the wall with vomit stinking of fish, kelp and lots of alcohol.

Voss sniffed as he narrowed his eyes and peered through the darkness at the puddle. "I don't remember eating any bread today." He drunkenly wondered as he pushed himself off the wall and promptly fell on his arse.
"By laviku, stop spinning you petching street!" He loudly yelled at the street.
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What will we do with the drunken sailor

Postby Cynnya on December 2nd, 2013, 5:34 pm

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After moving in with her new roommate, Cynnya needed to get out of the dormitory. She often took late night walks anyway, but tonight she was feeling especially irritated having to share her space and needed to get away. So, she had wrapped herself in her warm cloak and left the room to stroll the streets of Zeltiva, trying to calm her mind. She couldn't stop thinking about the girl invading her space, being around her things and intruding on her privacy. If she had her way, she would live in a room by herself far away from the other students where no one could step into her territory.

"Shyke the university," she muttered to herself, kicking a rock in the street. The street was mostly empty save for the few late night drinkers strolling in the shadows, and all was quiet except for the drunken singing of a man down the road. A breeze blew his alcohol-soaked scent her way and as the singing was replaced by a retching sound, she had to pull her cloak over her nose to prevent from gagging. Her sensitive nose could smell the contents of the vomit clearly even from more than 10 feet away and her sharp eyes took in the man's appearance. His yelling startled her a little, thinking that he was yelling at her before she realized her was just drunkenly yelling at the street.

Ordinarily, she would have just walked away. She would have kept on her late night stroll and ignored the drunken man. However, tonight she was desperate for something to get her mind off of her room situation.

Cynnya sighed and walked over to the man, holding her breath to avoid breathing in the scent of his vomit. "Do you need help getting home or do you want to spend the night freezing your arse off? You aren't exactly dressed for the weather, you know," she said, her tone civil but slightly annoyed.
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What will we do with the drunken sailor

Postby Neola on December 2nd, 2013, 6:50 pm



The darkness around her felt fairly comforting as the Caracal Kelvic made her way down one of the streets in Zeltiva, a gentle hum sounding from her throat as she walked. Her movements made hardly a sound as her feet lightly padded against the flooring beneath her. Night had always been her favourite time of day due to silence that seemed to welcome her with open arms and occasional curvy smile of the moon.

Neola’s attention soon got distracted from a horrific noise that instantly made her stop dead in her tracks and instinctively back into the shadows. Her eyebrows furrowed with confusion as she began to listen to the sound of someone singing, at a very off-key pitch. Her eyes squinted with distaste as she noticed a man stumble and suddenly lurch towards a wall. She didn’t have to look to know what was coming next. The Kelvic’s eyes moved away just as the violent sound entered her eardrum, the revolting smell of fish and alcohol beginning to also fill her nostrils. He was drunk.

“Lovely,” She grumbled to herself sarcastically, her face turning back to the man. Neola barely eye rolled before his angry yell echoed in the street, her eyebrows furrowing with confusion at his random reaction. Neola’s wasn’t exactly sure how to react to this and knew the best possible thing to do was walk away from here. Being around drunks wasn’t exactly a situation she wanted herself to be in; however she knew that she would help if she had too and this seemed like the opportunity to.

Ready to walk out of the shadows she had been hiding in and attempt at help him, the sight of another silhouette stopped her and made Neola hesitate. The figure of a girl began walking towards him and Neola knew she had heard the scene that had happened moments ago. Her feet stepped back and instead she watched the scenario unravel before her eyes.

Neola knew that she herself would react if anything happened that seemed it would need assistance so kept her posture in a relaxed state just in case. She would stay quiet for now.

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What will we do with the drunken sailor

Postby Marx Eisenstahl on December 2nd, 2013, 9:14 pm


It was quiet and dark. The clouds moved heavily over the moon, blanketing the world with a swathe of blackness. The ancient stones of Zeltiva stood warily against the bitter cold, shrugging off the misty air. Light blazed from closed windows, curtains closing them off from the public's eye. Vines and moss grew between cracks, sharp rivers of green grasping for life amid a sea of brick. Occasionally, people walked passed, shivering as they strode on into the night.

Marx walked slowly forwards, enjoying this brief time alone. He liked to collect his thoughts in the peace and quiet, to reflect upon the day's events. But all good things had to come to an end; he was tired and thirsty, and he wanted to get to his lodgings as quickly as possible. He blew into his hands, trying desperately to warm them up. He felt strange without his armour on- for one thing, it was considerably colder. But, people didn't look at him so oddly when he wore his normal clothes- although, he was beginning to wonder if it was worth forgoing his armour just so people stopped looking at him. He sighed, and pushed on.

After a few minutes, he began to notice a horrendous grating sound. He stopped sharp, trying to work out its meaning. After waiting a few seconds, he started again. He rounded a corner, and saw the source of the sound. A young drunkard- practically a boy- was singing, producing a sound not unlike a bedraggled cat's dying breath. He started towards him, when he walked into a young girl. He fell backward, rubbing his head in pain. As he recovered from his surprise, he noticed another girl standing across from him, bent over the fallen drunk. He stared out at the scene, and sighed inwardly.

"All right, all right, what's going on here?" he called, almost shuddering. He longed for his bed with a passion. He grimaced to himself; he had no other choice. By the looks of things, these women were taking advantage of a drunken lout to steal his money.
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Postby Voss on December 2nd, 2013, 9:39 pm

Voss stoped cursing and yelling at the road to behave itself when he heard somebody call out to him. Probably good for the street. He had some choice words about it's parentage and was about to do more then just puke on a few of it's cobblestones if it didn't behave.

Behaving the road still didn't. But now he had people around to talk to first. The road's chastisement could wait. Voss looked at the woman. Not bothering to stand up or hide the fact there were some small vomit stains on his boots and pants.

"Me help? Well if this petched street wasn't being a khur-va I wouldn't really need it. But it doesn't listen when I tell it to keep still!" As if to try and prove his point he tried to scramble to his feet. Only to fall over again. "See. A vagik this petching street is." The drunk sailor said in a happy tone letting out a drunk giggle. "How you're keeping upright anyway, I've been on deck with a few storms and I usually keep upright. Not now but you can. And you don't look like a sailor." He completely ignored her concern about the cold. The weather felt just fine, well he didn't really feel the weather at all. Which he guessed was a good part.

Once more Voss tried to get up on his feet and fell flat on his bottom. He slurred out some incomprehensible words. But judging from the tone they probably were insults aimed at the street. If you payed attention you could at least understand a few words pertaining too linage and parenthood.
"Looks like this khur-va ain't going to do shyke about it's attitude. Then the help could be good." He didn't wait for an answer from the woman. She already offered her help, so it would be good. He grabbed a hold of her and hoisted himself back on his feet. Well he was still leaning more on the woman then actually standing on his own two feet. But it was close enough.

Then another voice broke the silence. Demanding what was going on. He looked towards the source of the sound. Trying to ignore the lurching in his stomach when the world kept spinning.
"Dunno, exactly what it looks like I think. What else would it be?"
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What will we do with the drunken sailor

Postby Cynnya on December 3rd, 2013, 12:46 am

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Cynnya was not unaware of the other people on the street, however she had figured like all the rest they would move on quickly and not deal with the drunken man. She kept a tab on where the girl nearby was, her sensitive nose picking up her scent and that of another. Her acute hearing was also helpful in pinpointing where the people were despite her back being turned to them. She wrinkled her nose in disgust as her information gathering caused her to smell his putrid drunken scent once more.

She listened to him rant drunkenly, only half-paying attention to the in-cohesive words dribbling out of his mouth like the vomit that spattered his clothes had dribbled out earlier. She used one of her arms to steady him as he giggled drunkenly and she sighed again. She couldn't in good conscience leave him in the street to possibly freeze to death in his drunken state. Although it was still early winter, the overnight chill could easily bring about a man's death even if it meant he just caught a cold that led to his death. "I am not a sailor, but it isn't the street that is moving, it's your perception because of the drink you have in you," she stated, her expression only betraying mild annoyance.

Cynnya was not able to prevent him from falling again as he struggled to get up on his own, scowling at his stubbornness. Why were males always so keen to do things on their own? When he finally agreed that he needed that help and accepted her hand, she planted her feet firmly and helped him stand up, trying to concentrate on the other scents of the night in order to keep from vomiting herself. The smell affected her more than a normal human since she maintained the senses of her feline form, but she had decided to be helpful and she had to accept the consequences of her actions.

She was stronger than she looked and since he wasn't too much taller than her, he was able to lean on her and she took the weight easily, helping his arm around her neck so that it was more comfortable for her. When she heard the booming male voice, she groaned inwardly. She had hoped to just help this poor fellow to his home and be on her way, but with other people to interfere it was sure to become a spectacle. And she hated spectacles. And dealing with too many people.

"He's drunk and going to catch his death in this weather. I was merely going to help him home before he passes out in his own waste," she said factually, turning with the drunk on her shoulder to look at the taller man. Her gaze was steady and strong as was her stance even with the man weighing her down. She was telling the truth and something about her facial expression dared the man to challenge her honesty.
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What will we do with the drunken sailor

Postby Neola on December 3rd, 2013, 8:42 pm



Neola stayed silent like she had been for some moments, her eyes and ears only interested on the drunk and the girl standing before her. Her body positioned itself to slouch slightly on the nearby wall, but before touching it, her body staggered forward, Neola’s eyes widening like saucers and her body at the peak of falling.

'What the...'

Quickly regaining her balance, Neola’s hair whipped in her face harshly as she spun around to see the imposter who had momentarily made her life flash across her eyes. Neola’s irises narrowed into tight slits of anger and almost shut when his voice bellowed loudly in her ear.

“Do you mind not pushing me over and yelling in my ear-hole?” She snapped with a growl, unable to hold back the venom coating her words and the cat like hiss lingering behind it, “You scared me half to death!”

Neola took a long, shaky breath as she attempted to control the pulse of rage flowing through her, hands shaking and heart drumming a fast beat. She felt guilty as soon as the words had flown effortlessly out of her mouth, her eyes looking away from the figure with remorse, the rage gone as soon as it had started.

“I’m sorry...” Neola grumbled to him, her voice muffled by the sound of the others voices as she moved out of his way, keeping her gaze low and transfixed on the 'oh so interesting' shadowed path below her. She didn’t dare look up at him as she hastily moved her stare back to the other two people. Neola didn’t like this feeling of shame filling her stomach and knew, regrettably, it would be there for a while.


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What will we do with the drunken sailor

Postby Marx Eisenstahl on December 4th, 2013, 9:49 pm

Marx chewed his lip pensively. He was being shouted at by two young girls; a situation that he hadn't been in for some time. The taller of the two was screaming at him in startled indignation, like a frightened cat. She stared at him, mouth snarled back in fury. After a few seconds, she quickly turned away, and looked down at the pavement sheepishly. She walked back, warily keeping her distance. He grimaced again, and turned his gaze back to the smaller woman. She was staring at him, trying to make him doubt her honesty. She was burning in righteous fire, he knew, but he couldn't let this drunkard go on a girl's word. He took a few steps towards her, holding his hands out to show that he didn't mean any harm.

Marx slowly approached the boy. Up close, he saw how ragged the boy was; he'd clearly drunk a lot. As Marx reached out to the youngster, the boy violently retched on him. The lout tried, with impressive determination and care, to vomit on as much of Marx's clothing as possible. After the drunkard finished, Marx carefully withdrew his hand, nodding to himself. He patted him on the back, and resolved to keep behind him from now on.

He braced himself and pushed his shoulder into the boy, supporting his weight. He hardly weighed a thing; he was a young lad, barely a man. He looked sideways at the girl to his left. He wasn't going to let these people take this poor boy out of his sight. He shouted over to the girls.

"Hey! You two! We're taking this poor foysha to the World's End Grotto." He gritted his teeth; he knew he didn't have enough money to buy the drunkard a room for the night. He couldn't leave him out here in the cold to freeze to death, either. "I'll pay for it. It's only two silvers." He tried to make it appear as if this was nothing to him, his heart sinking. He strode forward, heading towards the inn. At least he was heading towards his bed, he thought mirthlessly.
Last edited by Marx Eisenstahl on December 5th, 2013, 12:29 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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What will we do with the drunken sailor

Postby Voss on December 4th, 2013, 10:16 pm

Voss blinked dumbly at the screaming and talking between the new man, a new woman and the woman he was using as a support. He didn't really pick up everything what was being said. But he did sense some hostility there. Or at least a bit of misunderstandings. He fiddled around his pockets, not noticing the man coming closer until he had pulled out the few spare change that was still in his pocket after the night of heavy drinking. Hostilities were always solved easily with a bit of alcohol. He might even squeeze some beer out of them after he paid the first round.

"Come on, let's be friendl...." his stomach churned again. And before he could turn his head, or try to take a step backwards it was already to late and he was throwing up. To bad that the larger man stood right in the line of fire. It was a rather morbid sight to see the taller man get splattered with vomit that smelt of rotten fish and strong alcohol. Voss giggled at the sight. "Sorry bout that, It'll clean out, the smell might stick a bit to your clothes. But nobody'll notice it witha ll the fishing that goes on around here! Or the'll just think you visited the kelp bar. Doesn't smell that different coming out then going in!" He apologized with a wide smile on his face. His earlier plan to go back to the kelp bar and see if he couldn't get shitfaced even more forgotten already.

Voss aimlessly giggled at nothing and everything when the man carefully stepped around him and let him lean on him as well. But when he mentioned the world's end grotto he spoke up.
"Oi I got a home you know. No need to spend money to let me sleep there! It's just..." He paused as exactly where his home was escaped him for the moment. He was sure it wasn't to far away from here. he knew that he had to go down the street at least. He shrugged, he'll figure it out from there.

"It's just down the street and then a bit further. Unless it managed to grow legs and walk away. But that hasn't happenend before!" He gestured wildely with his arm. Noticing the few coins he was holding in his hand and widely grinned
"Before that though. Anybody up for a fur another pint? Seems I'm not broke yet! I'm paying the first round." He tried to turn around. Which was rather hard since two people where holding him up. So in the end he just wiggled a bit and then went limp. Giving the lot of them what he hoped was a winning smile.

"It'll be fun!"
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What will we do with the drunken sailor

Postby Cynnya on December 6th, 2013, 1:07 am

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Cynnya smirked slightly as the girl who was bumped by the interfering man turned around and gave him an earful. That was what he got for not watching his step and for getting into business that had nothing to do with him. What did he think they were doing, robbing the poor man? Was it really his place to stop them if they were doing something of the sort anyway? She really should have just kept going, but now she was stuck in this situation and she just had to deal with whatever happened.

Her smirk vanished as the girl apparently immediately regretted her outburst and stared at the street, letting the man by her to interfere more with Cynnya's good deed. She was not in fact, burning with righteous fire, she was just trying to get this man home safely and this man was slowing her down by questioning that. Just then, the drunk retched again and she hid her second smirk by turning her head away from the smell. The other man was not having good luck tonight by bothering other people. She coughed twice to clear her throat of the distasteful smell and waited to breathe again until the scent had been wafted away by the wind.

He alleviated some of the weight by taking the other side of the drunk's body, but she still was not showing gratitude for his help. She could have gotten this man home just fine without the other's interference. Cynnya grimaced as the taller man yelled at her and the other girl, even though she was separated from him only by the space of the man's body. "First of all why are you shouting?" she hissed, turning her head to the right to glare around the drunk at the 'helping' man. "I'm right here and I'm not deaf. Secondly, the man says he doesn't live too far from here why would you waste your money putting him up in an expensive inn for the night?"

With her scolding of the taller man done, she turned her attention back to the drunk. "No, no more drinks for you or you will end up dead from more than frostbite," she said with a gentler tone to the drunk man. She had dealt with several drunk and disoriented students before at the university and had learned early on that yelling at them only aggravated the situation. He wouldn't remember her kindness to him in the morning, but at least she could try to keep him from become agitated at her now. She kept a firm hold on his arm as he tried to turn towards the tavern again and started walking in the direction that he had gestured his home was. It was the same direction the taller man was pulling the three of them anyway, but she was not going to cough up precious money for a room when the man had a home nearby.
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