Solo [The Drunken Fish] Ale and Ultimatums

(Job thread) Dovey attempts to navigate the chaos of Random Zulrav Day.

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

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[The Drunken Fish] Ale and Ultimatums

Postby Dovey on November 25th, 2018, 2:21 am

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66 Fall, 518 AV
"Speech"
"Others"


Just one sunny day, and the whole city went mad.

Dovey had heard the screams even from her dormitory upstairs, where she had passed an anxious afternoon, simultaneously hoping that Jane was not about to walk through the door to send Dovey downstairs, and praying that she would walk through it at all. When her fellow slave had at last slipped haggardly into the room, Dovey had jumped to her feet, full of questions - was Jane safe? She hadn't been hurt? What in the name of all that was - and here Jane had stopped her.

"They're calling it Zulrav Day," she'd said, flopping down upon her mattress with a whumph. "Because the weather's finally let up. Petchers with knives're running around waving them at everyone to get folk to pray. Be careful down there, girl - remember what I showed you."

And that was all Dovey could get out of her, despite peppering the older girl with questions for the next chime. At last Jane waved a limp hand in the direction of the door. "Go," she said. "Or Father Manowar'll be after your hide."

So Dovey went, practically tiptoeing down the hall towards the stairs, and hoping to all the gods that she was not about to get herself stabbed.

Of course, the general chaos had not kept the crowd at the Fish from their revelries. In fact she thought there might be more of them even than there usually were; the group clustered round one of the big tables looked about twice as large as the table could properly fit, and many of their number were standing, or else sitting amorously two to a chair. As Dovey hesitated on the second-to-lowest step, one of the men made eye contact with her.

"Hoy! Barmaid!" he shouted, his deep voice clear through the clamor. He waved an arm for her to come over to him.

Well. Into the fray she went, down through the crush of foul-smelling bodies moving wildly about the room. She hunched her shoulders about her ears and focused fiercely on her goal - that table, and the man who had summoned her.

In thirty ticks the crowd spat her out again, in a pocket of space just by the side of his chair. He looked her up and down with frank amusement. "Thought you'd been trampled!" he said, his words slurred just a touch. He held out an empty mug for her to take. "More ale then, lovie!"

Dovey took the mug delicately, not making contact with his hand, and was about to strike out for the bar when the man beside him tipped back in his chair to meet her eyes. "One for me too," he grunted, and the woman at his elbow added her request into the mix, and then that whole corner of the table was clamoring for ale.

"Make it a round," said the man who had spoken first, "on me!" which caused the rest to cheer, and Dovey to swallow a groan. That meant carrying a tray through this mess.

At least no one had pulled out a knife just yet. Maybe, at least, that particular piece of chaos had subsided.


Boxcode credit: Karin Ironyach
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"Common" "Fratava" "Pavi"
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Dovey
One unlucky girl
 
Posts: 263
Words: 216133
Joined roleplay: December 31st, 2016, 10:42 am
Location: Sunberth
Race: Human, Mixed
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[The Drunken Fish] Ale and Ultimatums

Postby Dovey on December 4th, 2018, 4:50 am

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66 Fall, 518 AV
"Speech"
"Others"


She tried to count them all quickly, but the constant motion of the crowds all around confused her efforts, and after a few moments she gave up. Better simply to bring back as many mugs as would fit on a tray, and hope that was enough. If it was more than was needed after all - well, she didn't think these folk would complain about a little extra ale.

She dove again into the turmoil of the crowd, squeezing between bodies in the direction of the bar. The air seemed almost muggy; it might have been summer, though upstairs she had been grateful for her blanket. She wished someone would douse the fire - but then the only light would come from the dim, smoky lanterns scattered about the room, and she would be lost in the semidark among this maze of unwashed humanity.

She pressed on, jaw tight. No glint of a knife yet in the chaos, and peering between those in front of her, she could just make out Ciranya standing tall and secure behind her bar. With a last quick push between a drunken staggering fellow and the woman leaving his side as hastily as she might, Dovey came to harbor between the barstools. "Ciranya!" she called, leaning on her forearms across the bar. "Cira! Cira!"

The bartender turned to her at last, a little furrow evident between her eyebrows. "Keep your hair on," she said, kindly enough. "What d'you need?"

"Tray full of ale," answered Dovey, rather breathless.

Ciranya raised her eyebrows. "How many mugs?"

"I thought, as many as'll fit." Dovey made a little noise of helplessness. "They wouldn't hold still for me to count them!"

Cira tsked and turned away, fetching a wide tray which she swiftly filled with squat wooden mugs. She gave Dovey a stern look as she poured out the ale. "That's eleven - and you charge them for eleven, hear? Don't let them stiff you!"

Dovey nodded, holding out her arms for the tray. Ciranya laid it in place, and immediately it tipped a bit, several trickles of ale making their escape over the rims of the cups. The barmaid steadied herself under the unexpected weight. She would have a time of it getting back through the crowd.

She pivoted sideways, moving her right arm so that it wrapped around the edge of the tray, with her elbow jutting protectively out in the direction of the crowd. Both hands pressed against the bottom of the tray, supporting the substantial weight; the fingertips of the right hand edged up around the shallow edge. Her wrist bent at an uncomfortable angle, but she didn't want to risk dropping her burden by repositioning it. Instead she squared her shoulders and, taking a breath for steadiness, moved gingerly out into the throng.

The throng closed around her. "Excuse me!" she began, out of lifelong habit - but Sunberth had formed some habits in her too, and she replaced the end of the pleasantry with an automatic "Watch it!" as a woman knocked into her elbow. The mugs rattled; Dovey braced her feet on the sticky floor. The woman gave her a white-eyed glance and plunged past unheeding.


Boxcode credit: Karin Ironyach
Image
"Common" "Fratava" "Pavi"
User avatar
Dovey
One unlucky girl
 
Posts: 263
Words: 216133
Joined roleplay: December 31st, 2016, 10:42 am
Location: Sunberth
Race: Human, Mixed
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Plotnotes
Medals: 1
Mizahar Grader (1)


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