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Post by yourcomputer on Jun 8, 2014 5:01:59 GMT
"when your carrying this type of stuff around ye cant be to carful." he replies turning to the human asking "what kinda stuff ye got there kid?"
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Post by brownbear96 on Jun 8, 2014 5:23:44 GMT
Ichabod sifted through the broken glass and alchemical mess on the floor, the mixture was benign, but useless, and even if it wasn't, it was un-salvageable. "Do you have any idea what you've done?" His hands were trembling with rage again, but this time he made no attempt to stop it. Ichabod looked to the apparently curious undead, still furious. "I don't expect it to be within your comprehension, so let it put it this way. THAT WAS MY LIVELIHOOD FOR THE NEXT FEW MONTHS, AND NOW IT'S GONE!" He turns back to the cat mage. "You've set me back for months, you sow! I won't-" Ichabod looked down to see the one flask had hit the ground without breaking, he picked it up and inspected it.
His trembling stopped.
"I won't merely accept this lying down." The flask he picked up was large, and was marked with one simple word 'Rancor' "You've proven I can't touch you, so how about this? A drinking contest!" Ichabod looked to the bartender and demanded a round of drinks, when they were served, Ichabod applied a mere drop of the flask to each mug. "The rules are simple, first one to drop, loses. And if one of us doesn't get back up... it won't the other's problem." This was something he knew he could do. He'd been tasting poisons nearly his whole life, and while his constitution for drinking was still pathetic, he'd developed countless immunities. "Do you accept?"
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Post by DerpWolf on Jun 8, 2014 5:40:03 GMT
Whitewhisker took one look at the drink, then leaned down and sniffed it, her catlike nose wriggling. Underneath the sharp scent of alcohol, she could smell obvious poison. Well, that and she'd seen him pour it in there. Picking the mug up, she swirled the swill around some, then tilted it onto the ground. "Oops. Looks like I won't be drinking any poison while you pretend to drink it yourself." Putting it back on the table, she looked at the mess on the ground. She felt bad for whoever had to clean that up. Running her tongue over her teeth, she realized she also felt bad for breaking all his product. While she didn't use poison herself, others obviously did, and now he had nothing to sell. Not that she'd apologize, he'd been exceptionally rude.
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Post by brownbear96 on Jun 8, 2014 5:46:55 GMT
Ichabod laughed at the cat. "Pretend, PRETEND!?" Without another word, Ichabod took the drink that he'd laid out for himself and chugs it whole, poison and all. As he did, he felt pain rack through his body, and he doubled over. The diziness from the drink added to the pain, being unable to focus on anything but the posion, he had to support himself on the counter for a moment before recovering. He was trembling again, only slightly, and this time out of weakness. That thing truly was rancorous, for him to feel such a sudden effect, but that meant she would feel even worse, if only she could convince her to drink!
Ichabod, now breathing notably deeper took the other poisoned mug and handed it to her. "Now, then. Do you still think me unsportsmanlike?"
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Post by anoroath on Jun 8, 2014 10:11:48 GMT
The female shifts around on her chair, uncomfortably, after finishing her meal. She glances over at the group of missfits fighting amongst themselves. She seems painfully aware of every spoken word, and not to meantion the volume of said words. She frowns as the smell of poison reaches her nostrils. She tries to pick the pieces of her conversation with the Undead back up.
"I'm Chinika, Head shaman-trainee of my Clan to the north. Nice to see some friendly faces around. I understand it is a time of war here."
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Post by BrotherDeath on Jun 8, 2014 10:47:39 GMT
The Undead LaRou was intrigued; he had never heard of such a diverse group meeting together like this before, and now he fully understood why. The elf hated the undead, the Lunarin hated the elf, everyone was taking it out on the human, and the skeleton was cackling about destroying the tavern...
The LaRou woman was talking again; introductions by the sound of it.
"Tormin," he replied simply, not wishing to get dragged into a discussion about the war.
He turned his head slowly to look at the barkeeper; the old man was watching him with half-glances between serving customers, looking half hopeful, half terrified. Tormin knew the look well enough. He stood and left Chinika at the bar, striding to the table with the unlikely convergence of so many species. They stared at him as he reached the table, their conversation faltering slightly; he paused for a second, getting a good eye for all of them before dragging a seat under his frame and carefully dropping his considerable weight into it, taking a place between the Lunarin and elf, and next to the human still wincing slightly from whatever he had drunk.
The human was glancing between the Lunarin and the drink he had ordered for her; the puddle of chemicles chewing through one of the floorboards told Tormin enough. He took the drinks the human had ordered and emptied them onto the bar floor, practically flooding their area with ale.
He placed each of the empty mugs back on the table and waited for them to react to his presence.
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Post by anoroath on Jun 8, 2014 11:37:07 GMT
Chinika nodded to herself. Seemingly, he was not one for conversation, and she had not intention of getting herself mixed in with situation unfolding around the said group of missfits, now also containing a not very talkative Undead. She reached into one of the pouches she carried on her waist, and pulled forth some dried herbs. She placed them on her tongue and took another sip of her mead, downing the herbs, before standing up, mug in hand. She would once again scan the inn for somewhere not in the imidiate proximity of said group. The only place she could consider placing herself would be next to the other Undead.
"I think I need some air, before this places becomes one big battlefield..." she mutters to herself.
Chinika sets her course for the door, but stops halfway there. She then resolutely walked back to the bar, placing herself just a few steps away from the group, glaring at them with anger glimmering in her eyes.
"Actually, I don't think it is I who needs some fresh air, but all of you instead." She almost snarls at the them. Her warhammer, which she picked up, now resting it's head on the floor, with Chinikas' hand placed with a firm grip around the handle.
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Post by BrotherDeath on Jun 8, 2014 12:40:48 GMT
Tormin turns to regard Chinika, taking in her arm length, probable strength and speed, the size of her warhammer...
"There is no need to throw these people out yet; provided they behave civilly... and stop damaging the owner's property."
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Post by Pyromaniac on Jun 8, 2014 13:28:59 GMT
Lylandra made a point of carefully drawing her bastard sword from its sheath and laying the weapon across her knees, the whole while glaring between the undead LaRou, and his female companion. It was bad enough the first skellie had showed up and inserted himself into the conversation, but now a second one shows up and acts like he's doing them all a favour. Not to mention the rather threatening stance the LaRou had taken.
"No one asked either of you." Lylandra replied. "So how about you mind your own business and take your warhammer back to the bar before you hurt yourself?"
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Post by BrotherDeath on Jun 8, 2014 13:45:13 GMT
Tormin hears the sound of the elf's blade leaving its sheath and twitches. He turns to focus his gaze squarely on her.
"I will offer you only one warning, elf; if you want to live to see the sunrise, then put away your blade. As for the rest of you, you are frightening the owner; settle down or I will gladly escort you outside where you can make as much noise and mess as you like. The guards will be the ones to deal with you then."
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Post by anoroath on Jun 8, 2014 13:49:55 GMT
A threatening snarl escapes Chinika while she bares her teeth at the Elf, towering over her, obviously displeased and somewhat ticked off. Her warhammer seems to be floating just a bit above the floor, ready for swinging. Her other hand is open wide, displaying her long and deadly claws, all looking scaringly sharp.
"You try and listen here for a bit young miss... All I want, is a little peace and quiet whilst I am staying here. If you intend to see my plans brought to ruin, then I suggest you run... And run veeery fast..." Chinika says, her voice sounding much more calm than she appears and putting emphasis on the last part, adding to what most would consider instinctual fear of a predator.
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Post by Pyromaniac on Jun 8, 2014 14:13:29 GMT
"If you wanted peace and quiet you would not have walked over and threatened me." Lylandra replied, making no move to return the blade to its sheath. "If you wanted peace and quiet you wouldn't have walked into the busiest tavern in town, and you certainly wouldn't have inserted yourself into a situation that was none of your concern, and certainly not by threatening us. If you're spoiling for a fight, just say it. I hate when people try to pretend they're one thing while being another."
She paused turning her attention to the undead LaRou momentarily.
"Same goes for you skellie. You want a fight, just say it. Don't pretend like you're doing anyone a favour."
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Post by anoroath on Jun 8, 2014 14:22:59 GMT
"You would do best not to push your luck here Elf. As I understand, you're already in unfriendly territory." Chinika closes her fist as she speaks, and lets the hammer fall back unto the floor, obviously calming down.
"I would not suggest trying to start anything in a somewhat hostile tavern, and quite the busy one at that." She looks the Elf in the eyes.
"I will not seek the fight, unless you wish to provoke it. As I stated, my intentions were to rest up in a bit of peace, and your band of missfits here..." she notions toward Ichabod and Whitewhisker, "... are making it a bit difficult. Not to mention the Undead that for some reason think it smart to carry around an arsenal of explosives strong enough to blow up a minor village..." Chinika sends the Undead a stern look.
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Post by BrotherDeath on Jun 8, 2014 14:28:29 GMT
Tormin stands up slowly, armour creaking again. "Pup, if you want peace, then go and find another table. And you seem to misunderstand my intentions, young elf. I'm not doing you a favour; I'm helping the owner to keep his tavern as free of bloodshed as possible. Which brings me onto my next point;
your sword is still out of its sheath."
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Post by yourcomputer on Jun 8, 2014 14:29:40 GMT
"hehehehe, ye never know what ye might find 'round here, an' some times ye need a good way ta get ye aroun' when ye don't have magic like ye." he replies quickly while picking up the sack to hid his chest "well lest seems that the human decided to stop messing with ta' cat, i was starting ta get scared."
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