17th of Spring, 515 AV
"You know Nystir," Hirem murmured as he shambled across the tavern floor, a wide smile creasing his worn face. "I never realized just how many bars are in this city. But it's really... truly incredible, you know?"
"Really." The Akalak proprietor murmured, his usually cheerful attitude absent when dealing with the Benshira. "Just how many taverns are there, Hirem?"
"Oh Nystir... many!" Giggling, the man then felt dangerously off-balance and supported himself by leaning on the bar panel, his legs nearly tumbling out from under him. But none of this served to disrupt his merry mod, and Hirem gave a solemn, knowing smile. "You see, there's the Kulkukan... very lovely place," he murmured, winking at Nystir in vain, "and then there's the Blue Bull, and the Rat Hole, and... and the White Crane and Atri's Place and... well, I think that's it. Still, that's a lot! Back in Yahebah, we - we didn't have any taverns!"
"Of course," the barman quietly said, glancing around the tavern and making sure that the loud Benshira wasn't disturbing any patrons. It was a late evening, far too late for any respectable men and women to be awake, yet there were a few tavern goers nestled in the corners of the room. "And which tavern gave you that?" He asked, gesturing to the bottle of ale clutched tightly in Hirem's right hand. "Alements?"
The Benshira seemed shocked. "Never," he hissed, shaking his head vehemently. "Never Alements. Caelum's a friend... I could never do this around him. He's too, too, too - good, anyway. He'd probably just take the bottle from me and make me drink something else that tastes of piss."
Nystir was unimpressed. "Ahuh. So you come to my tavern and do this?"
Hirem was not blind; he knew that the barman had long ago grown annoyed with his presence. While Nystir was able to smile and joke with almost everyone in the city, Hirem's particular problems had grown particularly frustrating to the Akalak. First, it was the nightly screaming, that kept neighbouring residents awake and got them complaining. And then it was the constant fights he got into at the Rat Hole, that left him scarred and bruised and an ugly mess that offset Nystir's patrons. And now, it was the drunkenness. Every few nights, Hirem would stumble in, half-blind and ranting to himself, making a horrible scene and ending up embarrassing everyone involved. The Benshira knew Nystir's problems with all of this, yet he could think of a better response than shrugging and throwing his free hand into the air. "I used to live here?" He joked, offering the Akalak a friendly smile. "And don't worry, my friend! I'm not going to be moving back in, anytime soon. I live at the Sanc-Sanctu-Sanctuary now, with Kavala-la." Laughing at his own flustered tongue, Hirem waved the comment off. "But you know as they say! Only a fool rides the Kabrin drunk! And I am no fool!" The man shook his head proudly, then took a healthy swig of ale.
Nystir gave a quiet sigh. "Of course. You are no fool." Giving one final look to the patrons of the tavern, he gestured Hirem to the stairs in the corner. "You'll be paying tomorrow, I assume?"
"Suuuure!" The Benshira drawled, grinning to himself as he shambled his way over to the stairs. Every second step of his threatened to send him tipping over and crashing into the ground, but some miracle managed to keep Hirem aloft. His good fortune didn't stop him from bumping into every possible table and chair on the way there, however, prompting a "Hik! I'm so sorry!" from him each time it occurred. By the time he reached the base of the stairs, half of the tavern had been upheaved. Humming a happy little tune, Hirem grabbed onto the nearby rail and hauled himself up the first step. Then tried to ascend the second step. Then nearly slipped on the third step. Then finally collapsed on the fourth step, plunging his knee hard through the polished panel. "Oh shyke!" He howled, withdrawing his knee. A hole had been punched through the step, a jagged hole of splinters and wooden debris. "Nystir! Nystiiiiir! I broke your stairs!"
"It's fine, Hirem!" the barman shouted, his voice a little too harsh compared to the meaning of his words. Letting out a frustrated groan, the Akalak waved him up the stairs. "Just go to bed! It's very late."
"You're damn right it's late!" Hirem repeated, chuckling. Relieved to hear that there was no problem, the Benshira dragged himself up the last two steps and into the second floor hallway, searching clumsily for his room. "All these doors look the same..." he muttered, eventually choosing one that looked familiar... in his sober mind, he would have recognized the fact that this was nowhere close to where his room was supposed to be. Approaching the door and shaking the ale bottle mindlessly in his other hand, Hirem pushed hard on the wood to open it. Then, when the door didn't budge, Hirem frowned and pushed again. And frowned, and pushed again. Finally tiring of this exercise, the Benshira threw his weight against the door and slammed it open, revealing a dark bedroom within. "Finally," he grunted, placing the bottle of ale haphazardly on the nearby desk. The room itself looked strange to him - When was the last time I owned a wooden mask? - but the bed was empty and inviting, and that was good enough for him. With a great sigh, the Benshira threw himself onto the bed and rolled over, staring up at the roof overhead. Letting out a sound of contentment, Hirem eased out of his tunic and tried pulling down his breeches, but gave up when they caught around his knees. Figuring that he was perfectly fine going to sleep in this disheveled state, the Benshira yawned and stretched his arms wide.
His right arm, ending up stretching out to the nigh stand, ended up knocking over a small book.
Curious, Hirem reached down and retrieved the book from the ground, propping it on his chest and turning to cover to face him. After a full chime of staring, he realized that the book had no cover image; giggling, he flipped it open to a random page and squinted to make out the words. After another full chime of staring, he realized that there were no words, but fantastical drawings inside, penned by a hand far more skilled than his own. Hirem could make no sense of what the drawing was actually supposed to be, but it impressed him nonetheless. Grinning, the man laid the book across his knees and perused through it at his leisure, smudging some of the more delicate work with his wandering thumbs.
"You know Nystir," Hirem murmured as he shambled across the tavern floor, a wide smile creasing his worn face. "I never realized just how many bars are in this city. But it's really... truly incredible, you know?"
"Really." The Akalak proprietor murmured, his usually cheerful attitude absent when dealing with the Benshira. "Just how many taverns are there, Hirem?"
"Oh Nystir... many!" Giggling, the man then felt dangerously off-balance and supported himself by leaning on the bar panel, his legs nearly tumbling out from under him. But none of this served to disrupt his merry mod, and Hirem gave a solemn, knowing smile. "You see, there's the Kulkukan... very lovely place," he murmured, winking at Nystir in vain, "and then there's the Blue Bull, and the Rat Hole, and... and the White Crane and Atri's Place and... well, I think that's it. Still, that's a lot! Back in Yahebah, we - we didn't have any taverns!"
"Of course," the barman quietly said, glancing around the tavern and making sure that the loud Benshira wasn't disturbing any patrons. It was a late evening, far too late for any respectable men and women to be awake, yet there were a few tavern goers nestled in the corners of the room. "And which tavern gave you that?" He asked, gesturing to the bottle of ale clutched tightly in Hirem's right hand. "Alements?"
The Benshira seemed shocked. "Never," he hissed, shaking his head vehemently. "Never Alements. Caelum's a friend... I could never do this around him. He's too, too, too - good, anyway. He'd probably just take the bottle from me and make me drink something else that tastes of piss."
Nystir was unimpressed. "Ahuh. So you come to my tavern and do this?"
Hirem was not blind; he knew that the barman had long ago grown annoyed with his presence. While Nystir was able to smile and joke with almost everyone in the city, Hirem's particular problems had grown particularly frustrating to the Akalak. First, it was the nightly screaming, that kept neighbouring residents awake and got them complaining. And then it was the constant fights he got into at the Rat Hole, that left him scarred and bruised and an ugly mess that offset Nystir's patrons. And now, it was the drunkenness. Every few nights, Hirem would stumble in, half-blind and ranting to himself, making a horrible scene and ending up embarrassing everyone involved. The Benshira knew Nystir's problems with all of this, yet he could think of a better response than shrugging and throwing his free hand into the air. "I used to live here?" He joked, offering the Akalak a friendly smile. "And don't worry, my friend! I'm not going to be moving back in, anytime soon. I live at the Sanc-Sanctu-Sanctuary now, with Kavala-la." Laughing at his own flustered tongue, Hirem waved the comment off. "But you know as they say! Only a fool rides the Kabrin drunk! And I am no fool!" The man shook his head proudly, then took a healthy swig of ale.
Nystir gave a quiet sigh. "Of course. You are no fool." Giving one final look to the patrons of the tavern, he gestured Hirem to the stairs in the corner. "You'll be paying tomorrow, I assume?"
"Suuuure!" The Benshira drawled, grinning to himself as he shambled his way over to the stairs. Every second step of his threatened to send him tipping over and crashing into the ground, but some miracle managed to keep Hirem aloft. His good fortune didn't stop him from bumping into every possible table and chair on the way there, however, prompting a "Hik! I'm so sorry!" from him each time it occurred. By the time he reached the base of the stairs, half of the tavern had been upheaved. Humming a happy little tune, Hirem grabbed onto the nearby rail and hauled himself up the first step. Then tried to ascend the second step. Then nearly slipped on the third step. Then finally collapsed on the fourth step, plunging his knee hard through the polished panel. "Oh shyke!" He howled, withdrawing his knee. A hole had been punched through the step, a jagged hole of splinters and wooden debris. "Nystir! Nystiiiiir! I broke your stairs!"
"It's fine, Hirem!" the barman shouted, his voice a little too harsh compared to the meaning of his words. Letting out a frustrated groan, the Akalak waved him up the stairs. "Just go to bed! It's very late."
"You're damn right it's late!" Hirem repeated, chuckling. Relieved to hear that there was no problem, the Benshira dragged himself up the last two steps and into the second floor hallway, searching clumsily for his room. "All these doors look the same..." he muttered, eventually choosing one that looked familiar... in his sober mind, he would have recognized the fact that this was nowhere close to where his room was supposed to be. Approaching the door and shaking the ale bottle mindlessly in his other hand, Hirem pushed hard on the wood to open it. Then, when the door didn't budge, Hirem frowned and pushed again. And frowned, and pushed again. Finally tiring of this exercise, the Benshira threw his weight against the door and slammed it open, revealing a dark bedroom within. "Finally," he grunted, placing the bottle of ale haphazardly on the nearby desk. The room itself looked strange to him - When was the last time I owned a wooden mask? - but the bed was empty and inviting, and that was good enough for him. With a great sigh, the Benshira threw himself onto the bed and rolled over, staring up at the roof overhead. Letting out a sound of contentment, Hirem eased out of his tunic and tried pulling down his breeches, but gave up when they caught around his knees. Figuring that he was perfectly fine going to sleep in this disheveled state, the Benshira yawned and stretched his arms wide.
His right arm, ending up stretching out to the nigh stand, ended up knocking over a small book.
Curious, Hirem reached down and retrieved the book from the ground, propping it on his chest and turning to cover to face him. After a full chime of staring, he realized that the book had no cover image; giggling, he flipped it open to a random page and squinted to make out the words. After another full chime of staring, he realized that there were no words, but fantastical drawings inside, penned by a hand far more skilled than his own. Hirem could make no sense of what the drawing was actually supposed to be, but it impressed him nonetheless. Grinning, the man laid the book across his knees and perused through it at his leisure, smudging some of the more delicate work with his wandering thumbs.