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| Tweet Topic Started: Apr 26 2009, 08:01 PM (491 Views) | |
| Flauta | Apr 26 2009, 08:01 PM Post #1 |
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The Hobbit.
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It was evening in Emain Macha. It was raining, to nobody's surprise. Except unlike the usual, miserable drizzle, it was an absolute downpour. The interior of the basement level tavern was brightly lit, though the usual patrons were not present, preferring to be home in their dry abodes. A few die hard drunks still clung to their glasses and bottles, sitting lazily at their tables and staring off into space. And the sad part was it was only 6 in the evening. The bartender, a twenty-something young woman with a head full of short red hair, was half sprawled on the bar itself, looking incredibly bored. Dakeri wanted to be home too. She wanted to be sewing. She made a new pattern! She wanted to make it. But no, she was running dad's crummy bar. WHY. "WHYYYY." ...She only realized that whine was said outline when every half buzzed and totally buzzed patron in the tavern jumped to attention and stared at her stupidly. This was going to be a long evening. There weren't even any musicians! Where were the musicians?! Likely home in their dry nice houses too. BAH. |
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| Murmur | Apr 27 2009, 10:58 PM Post #2 |
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Eweca was barely rising in the horizon that evening, and there were a bunch of steps outside the tavern, in the middle of the storm. Those steps weren't remarkable. Just the monotone sound of two metallic boots. One, splash, clank. Two, splash, clank. All over and over. One would have to wonder if they wouldn't get rusty in this weather. Through one of the windows, a white figure crossed, clad in a white robe. Splash, splash. It looked like the material wouldn't allow water to pass through, but the front was still uncovered, letting only half-copper and a half-face. Step, step, step, every one accompanied by the corresponding splash. And then the door opened, and the wet figure crossed through the door, looking slightly weary and most certainly moist. Though he seemed mostly silent, other than the clanking and the dripping all around him, beyond his white robe. Though he didn't speak as he pulled off the robe, revealing the helmet that still hid half of his face. He hadn't pulled it yet before he sat down on a corner of the bar, looking all over the place, trying to find somebody that could 'listen' to him. Or somebody to buy something from. Or just someone that could explain him if he was even in the right place. At the very least, the atmosphere was completely unmistakable. At least for now, he took off his robe and put it on a nearby chair, making it drip all over the place. Wasn't it impolite? he pondered, but he couldn't come up with an answer. After all, he would be dripping anyway, even if he was still wearing the robe. |
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| Flauta | Apr 27 2009, 11:07 PM Post #3 |
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The Hobbit.
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Lazy red eyes followed the figure that came in the door...all the way to the bar. And when an order did not come forthwith, she picked herself up from the bar and stretched languidly. "No buckets at my bar. What do ya want to drink?" At the 'bucket' comment, she pointed a finger at the side of her head--indicating his helmet. Dakeri seemed awfully bored, but there was never a time that joking could not be had. |
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| Murmur | Apr 27 2009, 11:14 PM Post #4 |
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Murmur immediately undid the straps of his helmet and pulled it off his head, placing it on top of the robe. He looked almost surprised that he had to take off his helmet. It was a rare occurrence. But the helmet went off, and he looked at the overly red woman in front of him. And he opened his mouth for a slight moment, before covering it in embarrassment. Somebody else would have to do it. He pulled a sheated sword from his belt, placed it on the table and allowed it to be unsheathed a pair of inches. "Good evening. Do you have any milk and bread?" Most certainly, the boy under the helmet wasn't doing the talking. |
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| Flauta | Apr 27 2009, 11:19 PM Post #5 |
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The Hobbit.
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Ah, magic. The stranger certainly found the quickest way to making the young woman nervous. Magic was just something Dakeri did not see much--she was a simple woman with a simple life, as was everyone in her family and everyone in her acquaintance. Magic was just weird. Thus, the apparently talking sword was getting a distrusting eyeball. "...Maaaaaybe." She glanced from metal to boy, to metal again. "...Creepy toy..." Mutter mutter. She turned to search for the milk bottle. "Dally's Machan cream, or just plain moo juice?" And no, she wasn't leaving creep toy unattended. Despite her back being turned, she was watching both in a well placed mirror on a wall. WATCHING. +_+ |
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| Murmur | Apr 27 2009, 11:27 PM Post #6 |
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"It's not a toy. It's my Voice." The voice sounded completely blank, and it was even creepier that the boy was using it to speak. But he seemed to act naturally, even with the slight performance. That was strange in many ways. But he went along with it, and he tried to reply to the following question. "Just regular milk." He didn't want anything fancy. He really didn't, and the clear proof was the bag of cookies that he had been forced into buying at the other restaurant. He just wanted something plain, really! |
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| Flauta | Apr 27 2009, 11:52 PM Post #7 |
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The Hobbit.
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"....Still creepy!" She said over her shoulder, before going about her bartendy business. An ice cold glass of milk was clinked on the counter before the white haired boy, along with a distrusting look to the... metal. Sword thing. "...Uh, I think the kitchen already shut down cause business is so slow tonight. Sorry. Just milk." |
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| Murmur | Apr 28 2009, 07:06 PM Post #8 |
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"Thank you." Slowly, Murmur picked up the glass of milk and sipped from it once, twice, while still getting the appraising, discouraging stare from the red lady. It was constant, and most certainly intimidating. And he kept thinking, though the sword was still there, at plain view. Wouldn't it be better that way? I wonder if I offended her. But Voice rarely was any good in providing insight in these things. So he contented himself with sipping on the milk, and pulling an oversized bag of unknown contents in front of him, revealing the dire truth... ...of a most delicious chocolate cookie, that he looked at with uncertain eyes. It was no bread. |
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| Flauta | Apr 28 2009, 09:43 PM Post #9 |
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The Hobbit.
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The staring didn't last that long. Maybe another ten seconds at most, before she turned away to wipe down the counter for what must have been the twentieth time that evening. She hummed gently to herself, for a sake of sound in the drull evening crowd. A dexterous hand came up to muss her short spikey locks for a moment, the almost creepy red eyes flickering over to Murmur once more. "Oh, that looks tasty, mate. Where'd ya get that morsel?" |
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| Murmur | Apr 29 2009, 04:30 PM Post #10 |
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"The people at the lakeside pub sold them to me. I don't like them. They are too rich for me." Murmur placed the bag with the cookies on the table, and placed the cookie he had been examining carefully just to the side. At least the milk wasn't too rich, like this thing... did she really like paying attention to him? It was intimidating. The short, or long, gaze had already made him uncomfortable, and the mention of the cookie even more. And Voice spoke again, with that inflexible and monotone voice. "Would you like to have them?" |
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