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Dinner at the Stump

Started by Dray, May 12, 2005, 12:36:10 PM

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Dray

"You have to admit, she lacks in style, but the girl gets things done," said Kit with a laugh.

Griznuq

Laren suggests "Maybe Julius could suggest a good place to speak in private."
=]V[=

Dray

"Well then maybe that should be the first order of business. We need a meeting place, one that is quiet and away from all this." Kit said to Jarmok. She was already raising her voice as it was quickly becoming quite the fest hall.

She thanked Paladine that the others had shown up when they did. She could already feel the eyes dancing over her. There was quite an alarming amount of males and very little females in this place.

Griznuq

"BBBRAAAAP!!" Laren blushes...

"Goodness... excuse me..."

 :oops:
=]V[=

Wildfire

Garret with the dexterity of the wind dances and dodges his way among the patrons that are drunkenly moving about. he arrives to your table. "My stars and gardens it's BUSY! well i have your drinks and eats for you good miss some milk and for you Jarmok some ale and spiced venison. Enjoy the music! It's good to have you here!" as you see Garret pass the table next to you you see him reach up to a full mug of ale and quite nonchalantly lift it off of the table and walk away wihile drinking the ale.
Wildfire

One should never underestimate the stimulation of eccentricity

Johan

"Thornhedge busy too."
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Dray

"Well Jarmok, I think it should be private. I think it in the best interest of the good citizens of Threshold that they not worry what the Protecterate has to do to keep them safe. I don't want to alarm them unnecessarily, and the 'loose ends' that we need to address may do exactly that." Kit said.

"Let's just enjoy the festivities, eat a good meal, and walk over to the Inn to talk?"

Johan

Quote from: Dray"Maybe we should just quickly eat and drink, then had back to the common room of the Inn to talk to one another?" she asked the group.

"Ung." Jarmok agreed, nodding. "Too noisey. Is private talk?"
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Dray

Kit looked like a deer staring down a Ranger at point-blank range. First Garret had uncharacteristically hit on her, and now a band of minstrels had burst in. The room was also a LOT busier than it had been for the past few nights. Now that she finally had almost the entire Protecterate together, she didn't think they would get very far in their conversation.

As it was it looked like Jarmok was ready to burst from the room and to the safety of the outside.

"Maybe we should just quickly eat and drink, then had back to the common room of the Inn to talk to one another?" she asked the group.

Wildfire

"Oh my dear, sweet, lovely, young, well figured girl! please excuse the blunder! It's busier here than it has been in months. I'll get you your milk and an ale for Jarmok...and...what was it that you wanted....hmmm....oh yes! Peppered venison. Got it!" he smiles a wide grin and winks at Kit and makes a clicking sound with his tongue. As Garret dodges off, the front door opens once again. From one corner of the tavern Eldan shouts out, "Ah, they made it! Sardior be praised!" The troupe of 4 (2 gnomes, a halfling, and a female half elf) are carrying musical instruments. One of the gnomes has a flute, the other gnome has a mandolin, the halfling carries a bodran, and the half elf has a fiddle. As the Half elf gets into the door she immediately starts to scratch out a quick rythm on her strings.
Wildfire

One should never underestimate the stimulation of eccentricity

Johan

"No more wound." Jarmok answered. "Gone yesterday."

He firmly pats his shoulder that had been so badly damaged in the mines, then Kit, saying "I am late? Have talk?"
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Griznuq

Laren regards Jarmok a little nervously. "How's the wound healing?" Laren's eyes shifted to the spot of the wound caused by the last creature to explode.

0.o
=]V[=

Johan

Jarmok watched the sun slide beneath the westwall, as he has come to refer, if only to himself, to the mountains to the west of Threshold. Mahiya is surely the most gifted of artists. He mused as he watched the hue-splotched sky deepen from its native cyan through rose to thick violet and beyond. He watched the stars come alive, filtered through high tendrils of cloud and reflected in the lights that winked at him from the streets and through the windows of the village below.

A cool mountain air carried the scent of Sythus and the sounds of tree frogs racketed an otherwise silent evening. He wondered idly what tonight's sleep will bring him; he wondered sullenly where he would awaken in the morning...

At last, the night in full swing, he gathered his thick, dark, woolen Sythus cloak and sprang down from his porch. Kit had mentioned that she wanted to speak at the stump, but he had neglected to find out exactly when. Hopefully earlier rather than later; or very late, for that matter.

Bounding down the hillside into Threshold he wrapped himself deep in his cloak and hurried across the Rosewalk (I think) to the Stump. Something was amiss this night...there were too many people.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

Approaching the Stump he cracked open the door and slid inside, closing the door quietly behind him. The noise was deafening; a myriad of scents assailed him: meat roasting, smoke from pipes, perfumes, bread. He peered through the many pairs of eyes searching for his fellows. Laren's voice carried over the conversation in the Stump, "...Those things were GUH-Ross!!" Jamok smiled to himself, For such a small person, Laren's voice certainly carries far enough.

One of the innkeepers, Jarmok couldn't distinguish between the two, emerged from behind the bar bearing three over-sized tankards of ale - that was a drink that Mercer had introduced Jarmok to over Venric; it appeared to be an acquired taste that Jarmok was just now becomming used to, though it required some kind of spiced meat to be truly enjoyed.

The innkeeper carried the drinks over to a corner of the inn where Jarmok at last espied Kit, Maal - the seemingly honorable and strikingly blunt wildlander, and Laren - whom Jarmok had yet to understand, but as secretive as this diminutive fellow seemed, Jarmok sensed no directed animosity from him, and so thought that he was likely as much in need of help as anyone.

This must be the time. Stealing a quick glance at the inn's patrons, all seemed innocuous enough; Jarmok threaded his way over to the corner table and took up a seat against one of the walls, nodding to the three freinds sitting there and glancing again around the room.

"Drink?" He requested of the small inkeeper, indicating the frothing tankards that had just been set down. "And vennison, spicey?"

"Could I get another milk?" Kit piped in.
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Griznuq

Laren makes a face "Milk and I do NOT get along... Last time I had a glass of milk, I cleared the room! It was like week old barn waste!"
=]V[=

Dray

Kit pushed the ale, Garret placed in front of her, over to Maal. He truly must be rushed, as he knew she didn't drink spirits.

"Could I get another milk?" she asked.