Closed Finding Gods at the Bottom of a Flagon (Omid)

[Leila]

Timestamp: Spring 37, 513 AV Leila had just finished cleaning the last flagon when her replacement for the night shift came in. "Hey there Sharley, it's looking like it will be an average night. Nothing too crazy." Sharley barely managed a smile, and sluggishly made her way around the bar. Leila gave her a once over and quickly realized that the woman was extremely hungover. She'd been on the night shift the previous evening, and it looked like she'd used it more to drink than work. Leila shrugged, that was her fault though, so she could deal with it on her own. Leila grabbed a plate of food from the kitchen, and made her way around to the customer side of the bar, to eat and go home. There were several customers in there that night, but none of them had gotten out of hand. However, now that she was on this side of the bar, one man, an ugly, tall and gangly fellow decided to try his luck. "So, can I buy you a drink darlin?" Leila smiled politely, "Sure, honey mead please." The man actually seemed surprise that she accepted his offer, and tentatively sat down next to her, "So... uh... what do you.. uh.. do when you're not... uh... bartending?" She chuckled, noticing how he'd failed to exchange names, "I like to work with plants, gardening herbs and the like, and I go exploring the town with my dog. I love to cook too. How about yourself?" Her honey mead arrived, and the man paid, when the door was kicked open with a loud bang. "REGINALD! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!" A large, scary looking woman stood in the door, practically radiating anger. She stomped over to her companion, then looked at Leila, who quickly spoke up, "I'm a bartender here, making sure Reggie here didn't get into any trouble." That answer seemed to satisfy the woman, who Leila wondered if was his wife or mother. She then grabbed Reginald by the ear, and dragged him out of the bar howling, much to the amusement of most of the bar. Even Leila smiled a bit, took a sip of her mead, and bit gingerly into her bread, wondering what she'd do with the rest of her night.

[Omid Shepsen]

Omid stood to one side as a very angry woman stomped past, dragging a howling man in her train. As this was not totally uncharacteristic of the Grotto, he merely shrugged and ducked inside, pressing his thumb briefly against his palm to ward off liminal spirits. Omid came to the tavern because he loved the people and the spirit and the horrible beer, but because he knew the Professor would never have approved, he came to the tavern with a book. The last thing he needed was for the Professor to return as a ghost to lecture him about his studies. Taking an empty seat at the bar, he polished the counter with his sleeve before laying the book on it. It wasn't his, technically. It had belonged to the Professor and since Omid still had the key to the apartment he saw nothing wrong with borrowing it for the night. "What can I do for ya, love?" Omid glanced up at the bartender, a woman who smiled like she had a toothache (or, he realized, more likely a raging hangover) and set a couple of coppers on the bar-top. "A mug of ale, please." She nodded, dropping the coins in the tin beneath the bar with a clanking noise that made her wince. It was the most carefully poured mug of ale he'd ever seen, and he couldn't help but feel impressed that she'd still managed to slop it all over the counter. He nodded his thanks at her retreating back and gazed doubtfully into the cloudy golden liquid. Welp, bottoms up. Worst to worst, I heave it up on the way home. "Skerr of the Bountiful Wheat," he muttered, tracing the rim of the mug with a finger. "Thanks be." He took a sip and found it thick enough to chew, which was quite all right by him, and slightly fruity, which was not. Mug in one hand, he took the opportunity to properly survey the room, and noticed for the first time that he'd sat down next to a remarkably pretty woman. Avoid eye-contact, avoid--don't stare-- he gave up. Worst to worst . . . "Hello," he offered, blush creeping up his neck. "Sorry, I should have asked whether you minded me sitting here . . . ?" EDITRemoved reference to Kelp Beer, April 2

[Leila]

OOCI don't think the World's End Grotto sells Kelp Beer, I believe that's only the Kelp Bar. Sort of what makes the Kelp Bar unique Leila chewed slowly as a man sat down next to her, clearing the bar for a rather large, and boring looking book. She shook her head smiling as she watched her replacement spill the golden ale everywhere. This girl was just awful, but what can you expect? It's a bar, and not even the most popular one. The man had an odd look about him, he looked as if he belonged in the University, and yet, he gave off this vibe of a foreigner. She continued to eat, watching him out of the corner of her eye, enjoying the crunch of the beer being washed down by the delightfully smooth ale. Then he spoke. And she realized that he was yet another bumbling fool, most definitely from the University. She was tempted to just ignore him and keep eating, but her manners instilled by her mother overrode her displeasure. Turning her mind to the golden delicacy she drank, she turned to her new neighbor, "Of course not hun, every seat in the house is open. Besides, I just ended my shift, so some company would be nice." Her fork fiddled with her food, until the bartender walked away, "Poor thing is ill, I think she may have had a few too many last night. But she has been on a lot of shifts under Leth light." Finishing the last of her meal, she turn bodily on her stool to face the man, one elbow on the bar, holding her half finished mead. "So what brings you to Zeltiva? The book makes me think the University, but you're no Zeltiva born." She then continued to sip at her drink, til it was empty, and set it down, waiting for a reply, and a refill.

[Omid Shepsen]

Omid nodded gratefully as she daintily skirted his clumsy attempt at polite conversation and sat tongue tied as she whispered some pitying words regarding her coworker. He wondered for a moment whether his amusement earlier had shown on his face, though if it had, she did not seem to have taken it so badly . . . Ye gods, but she must think you're a fool, some inner voice chimed in, sounding uncannily like the late Professor. And why not? You certainly act like one. He drank as she continued to pick at her meal and smiled uneasily at her inquiry, rubbing the thumb of his free hand against its palm as she spoke. "Ah, well sussed," he said, moving his fidgety hand to the spine of the book, fingering the slight indent of the title. "I'm from Nyka originally--you know, ahah, with the fighting monks, and the-ah, crazy superstitions . . . I'm here studying history, actually." He paused, and tried desperately to look as though he'd meant to. To cover his uncertainty, he took another draft of ale, glancing sidelong at her face as he tried to register her response. Mostly he worried his poor sense of humor (usually hovering somewhere between dry, sarcastic and nonexistent) had failed him again. Still she hadn't gotten up to leave yet, so he decided to blunder on in hopes of stumbling upon some common grounds for conversation, or at least something they could both laugh about. "Actually, I was sort of, um, adopted by one of the professors . . ." His fingers fumbled on the book, hesitated, and shakily began to draw the sign of Qalaya instead. Stupid, stupid, stupid! "Kind of a funny story, really. My father mistook him for some sort of foreign monk, you see . . ."

[Paragon]

Leila

Experience

Skill	XP Earned
Socialisation	1

Lores

•	Lore Earned
•	Grotto Regular: Reginald
•	Grotto Employee: Sharley

Legend Becomes Reality

Let me know if you return Omid. If you have any questions or concerns regarding your grade, please send me a PM and we can work from there.