Open Drunk at the Fish

A night spent at the Drunken Fish the Sunberthian way!

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A lawless town of anarchists, built on the ruins of an ancient mining city. [Lore]

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Drunk at the Fish

Postby Grim Ravenwood on August 12th, 2016, 2:30 am

¤


65th of Summer, 516AV
The Drunken Fish


The Sun was just about to set, sinking in the cerulean depths of the ocean. The docks, unlike their usual selves, were mostly desolate now, the many ships tucked between the piers left to only gently rock with each coming wave. Darkness would set down soon, thus, most of the sailors took refuge in one of the drinking establishments Sunberth had to offer, sheltering themselves from the coldness of Akajia's dark veil.

The tranquil sound of waves splashing against the sides of the boats, and the song of the few seagulls that remained was only occasionally interrupted by the chorus of laughter coming from the best, and only, tavern on the docks, The Drunken Fish.

Yet, unlike the regular days, where the visitors would clamp in pairs or smaller groups, and pleasantly converse each with a mug if rum in their hands, most, if not all, of the attention was gifted to one person. With each chair and table directed towards the speaking man, the visitors listened with great care as Grim told them one of his 'less believe' tales. Raven if most of them didn't believe him, they found great amusement in his storytelling.

The man in question, slightly intoxicated as he was, couldn't quite remember how he got into this particular situation. He wanted information maybe? About what? Well, whatever it was, he believed that The Fish was a good place to obtain it. Yet, after he may, or may have not found out what he was looking for, he decided to take a pint of the house's specialty. And then another, and another.

Before he knew it, he was in the center of the inn, speaking about god knows what. But frankly, it didn't matter. He was having fun, and his mug, no matter how much he drank, was always full.

"...and I be headin' trough the graveyard, w-when 'tis old hag starts wallkin' towards me." Grim said, bending his back and pulling his lips in, all in effort to better simulate her appearance. "Eh, it be strange seein' ye youngsters o-out 'ere." He spoke, fighting to hold his own laugher. "And I told 'er, yeah, it's also strange s-sein' you old timers 'round the Bed... WELL NOT ABOVE THE GROUND AT LEAST!" The robed man snorted, letting his laugh loose after holding it for so long. As he did, the boom of wood against wood filled the warm room, followed by the gruff laugh of the sea-hardened sailors and privateers.

A sore throat interfered with Grim's tale. Laughter turned into coughing as one of the sailors raised his hand. "Oi Father, grease 'is throat with another pint on me!"

Taking yet another swig from his now spilling full mug, the robed man raised his leg on the chair in front of him, and with drink at hand, he exclaimed. "Ah, yes, where was I?

Grim as an Eiyon, appears to undead as either something to be fearful, or weary of, depending on their personal power. To others, he might seem like a mystery, or just odd.
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Grim Ravenwood
You reap what you sow~
 
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