Solo [Malfazar's Beer Hut] This Time, A Drunken Start

[Shane Wallsly]

Timestamp: 1st of Spring 518 AV

Syliras was a bust. What was he thinking? Stormhold Citadel had always been a bust. How was he to survive there with neither martial prowess or unwavering piety? He had been a fool to go back. Of course, Riverfall, while scenic, had not been the place for him either. There, it was bloodlines and, again, martial prowess. Shane was beginning to despair that all of Mizahar praised only the fit, the strong and the sycophantic.

Until he had heard about Ravok. Shane couldn’t quite remember where or when he had heard about it but he’d been packing his bag for a while now and before he’d even stopped to think it through, it felt like he was there already. He was passing through the lakeshore village idly stopping to scan and focus on various individual auras as he walked. It was a habit he’d begun to pick up. A quick focus didn’t really tell him much but it gave an impression. If the impression was interesting or unnerving he could look further but he didn’t much fancy stopping to stare at people in a foreign city. Such a thing could lead to many problems.

He’d been told to check in at the tower. Once he was done with that, he should be granted leave to the ferries. Aside from that, he didn’t know much else. He didn’t even know where the city was. Perhaps it was on the other side of the lake?

As he walked up the hill to the tower Shane couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy. Perhaps it was the foreboding nature of towers which Shane had always found unsettling ever since he had seen a horse thief peppered with arrows as he tried to make a getaway from Stormhold Citadel. Of course, those had been Gates… Well, it was all masonry in which archers could be covertly hiding waiting to pop out and…

Shane stopped suddenly. What on Mizahar was he doing here? This was a horrible idea. He was going to get shot, peppered, riddled, cheesed up (as in to be made like holy cheese). Shane decided to sit on the grass by the side of the path. It was his decision and not a by-product of his legs suddenly turning to jelly and his insides threatening to spew forth from his mouth.

Breathe, there was nothing to worry about. Breathe, people didn’t just kill people for no reason. Breathe, what if they had a reason? Brea- Wait, didn’t he here a rumour that the Gates of Stormhold Citadel had been blown up by the Ravokians!?!.

Shane jumped to his feet and started walking down the hill as fast as he could without breaking into a sprint. He needed to find a merchant caravan and go back to Stormhold Citadel, now. This was it. He wasn’t leaving the Citadel again; never again. He would lead a life of perfect normality if he had to. He would forsake magic, cynicism and even the book.

Shane had stopped again. This time, Shane was stopped outside a shack. Dimly, he was aware that he was panicking. In lesser days, he would not even have been aware of it. He decided to check out the hut. First, with the Sight. He no longer had to close his eyes to will the djed into his eyes. It took now a minor force of wall to bring it to bear and he did so opening his eyes up to the fundamental truths of the universe. He sorted delicately through the many auras all around him, not just in people but in things and plants, until he was securely focused on the shack in front of him. It was wooden, obviously, though there were trace amounts of iron which were perhaps nails. He switched his focus to the door. It was worn, well used, and carried all the trademarks of frequent public use. He could see now the individual dents, scratches, everyday wear and tear that was every bit more noticeable in a building of such crude construction. He let his focus switch to the floor. It was a lot more battered; covered in tiny nicks and dents; the tell-tale signs of frequent and careless human traffic. After a few moments he started to notice something else; remnants of spilled liquid that had soaked so thoroughly into the floor that they were part of it too. Was it ale..? Yes, it seemed so.

Shane blinked away the sight; musing on his findings letting rational thought and deduction ease his mental anxiety. Premise the first; the building was a gathering place. Premise the second; it was relatively empty now during the day. Premise the third; enough spilled ale to suggest that it was imbibed frequently within the building. Conclusion: Tavern. Shane nodded and strode into the tavern.

[Shane Wallsly]

“Ello, traveller. Mug o’ ale?” The gruff bartender offered in a friendly enough tone. Something about the way his eyes never shifted from the mug he was cleaning told Shane the phrase was an everyday ritual for the man.

“Um, yes.” Shane decided hesitantly. He hadn’t come in for an ale, in fact he’d only really came in to see if his deduction had been correct.

“Four coppers, traveller.” The barkeep replied matter-of-factly plonking down a full mug before Shane could decide if he wanted it or not.

“Well, I suppose it’s celebratory.” He muttered to himself putting the four coppers on the bar.

“Wha’s that, traveller?” The barkeep replied evidently as keen of hearing as he was at pouring ale.

Shane inwardly cursed himself. He did not feel like explaining to the barkeep the situation that had lead him here, more so to save himself embarrassment than anything else. “A celebration of my arrival here in Ravok!” Shane replied forcing perhaps too much cheer into his voice than was absolutely necessary. “The name is Shane, sir, and yours?”

“This ain’t Ravok.” The barkeep replied gruffly enough to set Shane to grimacing. “Name’s Malfazar. Nice to meet you.” The barkeep looked at him fully for the first time he had walked into the bar. His gaze was… unsettling.

“Uh, uh, s-so… One moment.” Shane stammered, picked up the mug of ale and began to drain the liquid in a series of gulping, choking motions. The liquid was, in fact, not as entirely toxic as he had expected. While bitter there was an overcurrent of something sweeter that tingled upon his tongue. The effect upon his usually sober body was also immediate. He felt… loose, warm around the cheeks and pleasantly unbothered. “Aaaaaah!” Shane smiled at Malfazar who’s expression softened just a touch.

“Southern Trading Post; ‘at’s where.” Malfazar replied to the unasked question. “Ravok’s ‘cross the lake. Couple ‘ours b’ ferry. Ale?”

“Yes, please.” Shane said no longer having to fake the cheer in his voice. Another four coppers went on to the bar and Shane’s mug was full again. “I don’t usually drink.” He said taking a long drink of ale. Malfazar replied with a knowing look. “I’m a bit…” Shane took another pull from the mug wondering if he somehow liked ale now or if he’d never had an ale like this before. “What was I saying? Oh, yes, I’m nervous. Never been before.”

“T’ Ravok?” Malfazar enquired as he began to clean another mug. Shane nodded. “Fine place. Does good trade when it can be bothered.”

“What-d’you-mean?” Shane asked without noting the strange way in which his sentence had come together without tangible space between each word.

Malfazar gave him an appraising glance and then conspiratorially checked either side of the empty bar. He leaned across the bar until his face was inches away from Shane and spoke quietly “Take when I first came here; young buck with a cartload of goods. Didn’t give me leave t’ move my goods for weeks. Most of it spoiled ‘cept a few barrels o’ ale. How I started up this place. Now, what was the sense in all that, eh? Bloody big waste if you ask me.”

“Huh,” Shane said feeling quite desperately that he would prefer not to have Malfazar’s tobacco-rich breath quite so close to his face. He sat back a little and proffered his mug. “Real shame, more ale please.”

Malfazar gave him a look Shane was too preoccupied with the thought of more ale to notice and snatched the mug out of his hands. “’Course.”

[Shane Wallsly]

“So, there I was!” Shane shouted over the din of the now fully-packed Tavern. “A big, bloody, blue woman bearing down at me. She must have outweighed me by at least fifty, no a hundred pounds. Woman, eh serving wench, yeah three more drinks for my friends here!” The waitress seemed to glare for a brief moment as she passed but hurried to the bar to follow his instruction in any case.

Shane was now sat, side-straddling, a very long bench with three other men, two standing to his side. Fredrick, Rudolphis and J’Bren were there names and Shane had known them for about an hour and had kept them in drinks the whole time. Fredrick, known to Shane as Fred, was a short, fat man who laughed in short, powerful barks that set all his belly jiggling. Rudolphis was a tall, gaunt figure who seemed less interested in what Shane was saying and more so in the sway of the waitress’s hips. Finally, there was J’bren who was a massive specimen of humanity and laughed distractedly while he flexed his ample muscles in a rather good imitation of an Akalak.

“Good one, good one.” J’bren said continuing to flex and pirouetting slightly on the spot to display the most of his figure to… no-one in particular. “What happened next?”

“Can’t remember. She knocked me flat on my ass so fast I’m still falling.” Fredrick barked, Rudolphis leered and J’bren lifted his arms behind his head and began to flex his pecs.

“Twelve coppers, gentleman.” The waitress said carrying a tray of three mugs. Shane counted out a silver miza and two coppers unwittingly giving the waitress two silver miza and one copper. She thanked him with a blazingly seductive smile and bent forward to offer the tray to Fredrick who sat alongside Shane. As she did so Shane sensed something… He wasn’t quite sure what it was. A ping of lust? Barely had the thought entered his head before he heard a smack, a squeal and felt drops of liquid fall upon his trousers.

Rudolphis swayed where he stood a giant, self-satisfied grin spread across his face. The waitress was apologising profusely to Fredrick while picking up the emptied wooden mugs from the floor. Poor Fredrick, it seemed, had gotten most of the three mugs of ale spilled all over himself. Shane, however, was still wondering what exactly had actually happened. That was, until J’bran spoke up taking a threatening step toward Rudolphis “Hey, you made her spill our ales!” He accused flexing his muscles in a more aggressive fashion.

“What happened?” Shane asked dimwittedly, finishing his own mug of ale.

Rudolphis had straightened re-assuming his leer and focussing it on J’bran. “What? I didn’t do anything.” He replied petulantly.

“You slapped her arse.” Fredrick demanded joining the argument as he stood up patting himself dry as uselessly as Shane was.

“She’s right here!” The waitress demanded turning away from them, tray with empty mugs in hand, and marching off to the bar.

“What?” Shane was still trying to put two and two together.

“HE SLAPPED HER ARSE!” His three companions suddenly shouted in such random harmony that the entire tavern turned silent and turned to look at them.

“Out, ye’ bloody no-goods!” Malfazar shouted hurrying out from behind the bar with a thick, hard cudgel that he hadn’t had mere moments ago.

Shane began to rise. “I’m v-very sh-sh’rry.“ Shane said punctuating his apology with a hiccup and stumbling toward the door of the shack.

“Hey, I didn’t do nothing.” J’bran said squaring his shoulders and planting his feet.

Fredrick put his arm around J’bran’s shoulder in a gesture of drunken reassurance. “I’s alright J-bra, come’n.” He slurred ineffectually trying to leverage his arm to drag J’bran away but the man was just too strong. Shane rushed forward and put his arm around J’bran’s shoulder from the other side. “C’mon friend.” He said trying as ineffectually as Fredrick to move him.

“Get off.” J’bran said with a scowl pushing the two men as if they. “I ain’t going nowhere. Get off” He insisted and with a flash of movement both Shane and Fredrick were on their backs nursing their stomachs from an unexpectedly powerful elbow.

Shane noted, Rudolphis scurrying out of the hut in the corner of his eye as all this was going on. “Hey, he’s getting away.” Shane muttered meekly. No one seemed to hear him as, at the same time, there was a loud, resound crack and then a thump as J’bran fell to the floor. Shane looked up to find Malfazar glaring at him cudgel in hand. “Get out.” He whispered and Shane scrambled out of there faster than a Kelvic in a slavers net.