[Job thread] Knock It Back!

by **Millie** on December 1st, 2015, 12:21 pm

22nd Bell, 81st Fall, 515 AV, The Rearing Stallion

By all the gods and goddesses, it was busy that night. Millie wasn't sure how many people were packed fish caught in a net into that bar, but it was far too many to count. With a hearty sigh, Millie's companion Brucila slapped a wandering hand away, and picked up the clanking mugs. She rolled her eyes at Millie, and indicated to wipe the surface clean. Millie looked at the table: it's surface was covering in sticky rings and various hands were slapped down on the table in mirth, or anger, or simply because they could.

The woman, her brown hair sticking up at odd angles, leant in and wiped the surface hastily, before scuttling away as a mighty roar of laughter issued from the gobby, bearded mouths of the 'gentlemen' clustered round the table. Gods, it was hectic. All through the night, Millie had been noticing with increasing apprehension the steady stream of people entering the pub, short and tall, fat as a barrel and thin as a reed, bearded, bald, long and short hair, dark, blonde, grey... the list could go on and on.

With a lot of management by the hand of Kevith, his son and the two more experienced barmaids, the tavern was just about coping. But Millie was afloat in the whole of it, overcome on one hand and strangely enjoying it on the other. It reminded her of times in the past, where she'd been in the throng of it, drunk as a skunk and as bawdy as the rest of 'em.

But, it wasn't like that anymore. So, battling her hair behind her ears, and straightening her apron again, she stepped into the throng from behind the bar. Immediately, the hot warmth of bodies wafted over her, scents of beer and ale, wood smoke and human-ness. She squirrelled her way in between a willowy, dancing woman and her mate, and squat, lecherous little man to reach and grab the empties that clustered on the low table.

by **Millie** on December 3rd, 2015, 4:46 pm

She had a fistful of mugs and tankards now, just barely grasped in her hands. Ferrying her way in between humans, and other species, she reached a table which someone had designated as the empty tankard table, clustered full of mugs of all shapes and sizes. Unfortunately, standing in the way of her was a vast crowd. A vast crowd, roaring and yelling, and begging for a brawl, by the looks of things.

Millie wasn't entirely sure what to do about it. She didn't have the brawns to break up a potential fight, but as she was the only one not busy, it seemed a little stupid not to try. So, with a tentative little clearing of her throat, she spoke up, "Hey! Calm down, and enjoy the drinks, okay?"

No-one heard her. No-one that is, apart from Kevith, even from the other side of the bar. The gang in front of Millie was getting louder, and an argument seemed to be breaking out. A tall, brooding man with a red face was shouting in the face of another man, whose sibilant speech betrayed his Dhani roots. As Kevith started to walk over, Millie tugged up her courage again, put on her bravest face, and tapped the red-faced man on the shoulder.

The red-faced man, who promptly swung around, and punched Millie square in the face.

Her world went dizzy for a few chimes, and her vision sparked. Pain spread like wildfire across her face, and her nose especially. Blood started to pour. Millie's face scrunched up, and as the pain registered, tears pricked, and streamed as she let out a harsh sob, clutching her face with her hands.

It was lucky really, that the surprise of the man completely stopped the fight, and allowed for Kevith to easily take the offenders outside. Brucila was soon on hand, tugging Millie away and to a small room just behind the counter. Millie followed, in a daze.

by **Millie** on December 9th, 2015, 9:49 am

She was vaguely aware of Brucila's administrations, but her whole world was off kilter, not to mention in an extreme amount of pain. However, after a few chimes it wasn't so bad. The woman sitting opposite told her to hold her nose at the top, and Millie did, grimacing.
"Maybe you should go home?" But at this the woman shook her head, albeit a little weakly. "Do. Gan't go home, deed to wo'k." This roughly translated to 'need to work', but as Brucila gazed on dissaprovingly, the woman conceded she should probably have her nose looked at before continuing.

From what she could remember, it wasn't far to go. With a slight stagger she stood up, Brucila's hand at her elbow. She walked through the crowd and was soon out into the bitingly piercing fresh air. There was still blood all over her face, and she probably looked a mess, but with a sudden realisation, she grinned. All this blood probably made her look... slightly terrifying. Maybe I'll ask the healers not to wash it off.

The sharp pain of before was now wearing down into a dull ache, and she tenderly probed the bridge of her nose, trying to determine whether it was broken or not. It didn't hurt too much, but then, she wasn't a healer.

by **Millie** on December 15th, 2015, 3:19 pm

She would have to rush though. Despite having been punched in the face, she knew that Kevith would still want her to continue working, and she was as sure as all the bats in Hai that she would. The woman really didn't want to lose this job. It meant a great deal to her. So, she quickened her pace, searching for the Soothing Waters.

Luckily, she knew the way, and it wasn't far off. The streets were quiet, apart from the occasional squire or knight patrolling, and Millie clutched her nose as she walked. She probably looked awful... But by the time she reached the place she needed to be, she didn't care. The pain had come back with a throbbing vengeance, and it sent it's lances of fire through all the paths across her face. It felt like a small, pointed army of needles was marching drill formations across her, and it was wholly unpleasant.

"Hello there. What can I help you with?" The voice of a man pounded her eardrums, even though he was soft spoken, and Millie murmured under her breath about needing to be healed. The rest of the stay was a blur, although she could vaguely recall being directed to a kindly lady with soft hands, who washed her face and gave her some kind of salve to place on her nose.

Some time later, and the woman was nursing a piercing headache, but the pain of the injury to her nose was considerably lessened. As she left, she paid the man the price, eight gold mizas, which left her pocket feeling considerably lighter. In her hand was a tiny envelope which contained a pinch of powder, and some scribbled instructions letting her know she was to take the powder mixed with water when she went to sleep.

As she stumbled back through the door of the tavern, she braced herself. It was time to put on a brave face, for the woman was feeling exhausted. But as soon as she stepped foot through the door, a tankard was thrust into her hand. "It's got busier, sorry but you'll have to start pullin' your weight Millie!" Hooray.

The woman shuttled empty glasses back and forth between the tables and the bar, over and over again until her feet seemed to have worn a path on the flagstones. She was getting more notice now, too. Her nose was covered in a small bandage, pasted on unnaturally. There were people pointing, and most especially the laughs and snide comments that followed her, those were the things that dug the most.

But, the key was to ignore them, something which Brucila echoed in a short break they managed to snatch. "Look girl, the people aren't mean, they don't mean it. They're just drunk, alright? Don't take no heed."

by **Millie** on December 15th, 2015, 3:35 pm

But the woman was getting tired. It was hard to keep her eyes open in the mugginess of the tavern, but she tried her hardest. When Kevith pulled her over for once again placing an empty tankard in front of a disgruntled customer who had been expecting real ale, she apologised. But her mind wasn't in gear, and Kevith could see it, so with a nod he directed her round the back.

It seemed she had been relegated to washing-up duty. Kevith's wife Remi was cooking, but food orders were getting scarcer so she was mostly cleaning and tidying, or putting things away. She didn't take much notice of Millie, except to point out when she might need to wash something again, or let something soak.

The woman felt miserable. The day had started off well, and now all she was doing was submerging her hands in grimy, oily water, scrubbing disgusting plates and bowls and wiping the imprints of slobbery lips of glasses and tankards. [I[This is disgusting.[/I] She couldn't help but curl up her lip as she felt some food drift past her hand, and more than once she tipped out the entire content of the bowl, to fetch some freshly heated water from the stove so that she didn't have to feel the grime.

She was slow. The work was mind-numbing, as she picked up a rough cloth and scrubbed at a particularly burnt pan, scritching and scooping up some soap to try and get the blackened food off. But, if she was honest with herself, for this evening it was better to be here than out there. Here, she could wallow.

by **Millie** on December 15th, 2015, 6:28 pm

Wallow, wallow, wallow. The suds crept up to her elbows as she pounded the dishes, not caring whether the water splashed over the sides. She knew it was because of the headache, and the pain splintering up her nose again, and the fact that she'd been delegated back here, with dirty dishes as her only company. But she couldn't help but feel that she was useless.

Taking the wet cloth, she rubbed it over and over against the glass she held in her hand, and placed it on the side, before picking up a clean, dry cloth to dry the dishes. She would eventually get round to ferrying the clean cups, glasses and tankards back to the bar front, but for now she wanted to stay where she was, in the safety and comfort of the kitchen.

Where there would be no-one to laugh at her. No-one to... No. Stop putting yourself down Millie. Think about the plan... Think about the future, where you'll return and burn all the people who laugh. That thought was comforting. With a slight more hint of malice, she pressed harder on the dishes, scrubbing efficiently. That would teach them, wouldn't it.

The woman started imagining all the things she could do, once she had devoted her life to Rhysol. It seemed the possibilities were endless, but the woman was struck with how far away from those goals she was. After all, no-one ever heard of a villain who worked as a barmaid. If she was entirely honest with herself, she wasn't even sure what she wanted from the future.

She cleaned her hands, and picked up the dry cloth, wiping the dishes and stacking them haphazardly on the side. All the while she was thinking, or trying to think about ways she could show her love, albeit tentative at the moment, to Rhysol. She wasn't sure. In a way, she almost wanted to leave this job.

The tavern was a place she loved, but... a barmaid wasn't a good place to develop herself as someone to be feared... was it? Taking orders from other people, washing up, these all seemed like weak tasks, now that she thought about it. Maybe she could make them more twisted. But she wasn't really sure how.

And she couldn't properly think about it now anyway, because Carmen was shouting round the door. "If you're feeling better, come round here please? We need some help with the final orders, Brucila got a bit mad and went off." With the look and expression of a dog that was wanted, Millie dropped what she was doing, and scooted round the door.

by **Millie** on December 15th, 2015, 6:47 pm

Her previous line of thought was completely forgotten, Rhysol and evil and retribution for perceived slights were lost as she came to help. As work drew closer to finishing, Millie threw herself into it. The place had mercifully thinned out a little, and so it was easier to pick up the glasses without being trodden on. The people seemed kinder now, with a couple of the customers showing some kind of concern, albeit drunken concern.

The woman whirled around like a whirlwind, cleaning sticky surfaces with a damp cloth, talking to customers, laughing and joking and collecting ten tankards in one hand, all at once. As the call for last orders came out, she echoed it on her side of the room, making sure the people knew, and she was greeted with groans of disappointment, but nods of understanding, and she felt like she could do it. Her state of mind had completely switched around, and the sudden joy of having a job and being able to do it filled her heart with pride.

By the second bell the place was quieter, with only a few patrons left at the bar. Millie struck up a conversation with one, with a glance from Kevith meaning, 'get him moving so we can lock up'. "Hey mister! Had a good night?"
"Uuuhhng," came the reply. "Well, do you want to finish that last drop off, and then we can step outside, okay? Get some fresh air." She sounded like she was mothering, but the man didn't seem to mind.

Perhaps it even helped, as he pushed the tankard back over the sticky bar surface and stood up shakily. "That's right! Lean on me, okay? We'll get you out and then you can find your own way home?"
"Uhhhnnnngg." The man draped his stinking arm over Millie's shoulder, and she 'hff'ed with the weight of it, but as they slowly made there way out, and Kevith locked her and Carmen out, she realised she was glad to help.

"You can get home alright?" The man nodded, or perhaps he was falling asleep, but either way the woman could see a knight on the corner, so if he got into any trouble the knight could surely look after him. So she waved goodbye to Carmen, who walked off to her own home, and Millie walked to hers.

It had been an eventful night. She was exhausted, both physically and mentally. She knew it would do her good to get home and sleep, and hopefully when she took the powder from before she would feel better in the morning. But in a way, her mind was racing. She knew that she enjoyed working for other people. When Kevith had offered a smile of gratitude for moving the drunkard out, she'd felt that warm buzz of a job well done.

But then on the other hand... she wanted to be different. She didn't want to be herself anymore, she wanted to find Tam, her nuit who could be in danger for all she knew. She wanted to be better for him, and what better way to do that than worship Rhysol? But as such, there were two very different conflicts of emotion in her head, and it was a confusing place to be.

As the woman reached home, she fell onto her bed, tipping the powder into her mouth and swallowing it without water. The two armies of thought in her mind wee fighting a losing battle. Sleep's obscuring clouds were approaching, and as the clouds of sleep rolled over her, the woman passed out, fully clothed, flat as a plank on her bed.

by **Ssezzkero** on February 11th, 2016, 3:16 am

SKILLS

LORES

RECEIPTS

-8 gm for medical attention at the Soothing Waters
NOTES

Solo [Job thread] Knock It Back!