Pub Night!

Renegade Camp - The Hanged Man
Despite being in one of those shady places, the pub has a humble feel within. An assortment of tables of various sizes are scattered throughout this room, each one made from the tops of old crates and barrel tops that may or may not have passed through this camp at one point or another over the turns. Each one offers it's own charm: burned with the branding of different crafters and different shipping warnings, even some added by the genius of some poor insufferable man with bad luck or one drunkard with a knife and fine sense of humor. Small chairs and stools are mismatched but the residents don't seem to mind as they settle down awaiting their drinks.
A long bar is nestled along one of the walls and behind it is where the bartender lurks, eyeing everyone who enters suspiciously as he wipes down the dark glossy surface and collects empty mugs left intact. Behind him are shelves of bottles, each a different shape or color, filled with the finest aquired over the turns. Intermingling and weaving throughout this place is the giggling serving girls, offering a drink or a wink to the patrons that spend their fine marks here.
High overhead among the rafters is the namesake of this place though it's currently without an occupant. A noose, already made and swaying gently in the air overhead rests old and worn. Whether it's just there as a piece of decoration or has been put to proper use in this places history is unknown and no man or woman is willing to find out for sure.

Contents:
Liam
Ashden
Kareyan
Mahl
Kiltara
Songkeg
Magic 8 Ball
Obvious exits:
Renegade Docks <RD>

The last of the days light finally faces over the horizon, and in it's place, the roar of music and heavy boots on the boardwalk takes it's place. The pub is as lively as it will be, with wenches carrying their laden trays between tables along the walls, the bartender taking care of the patrons at his counter top. Music echos off the platform reserved for harpers and other well tuned folk, playing an light yet hearty tune while waiting for their next set. Tucked comfortably in a dark corner, the resident mute quietly enjoys his mug of ale while tired eyes watch the faces of people that come and go. On the table next to him, is his weathered book and pen, hopefully discouraging those wanting to start up conversation with the elder. Reading isn't a strong point, apparently.

It's time. Really, it's like clockwork that Mahl appears shuffling through the doors from the noisy outside..to the noisy inside. Though jarred and bumped by the throng, he keeps one protective arm secured around his most precious cargo. A pot. Of course, sprouting out of that pot is a lovely purple flower, with petals that fade red at the tips as if dipped in blood. Oh yes, very precious indeed. He manages to find the bar at least, his meager amount of marks buying the same thing it always amounts to. A drink and a few crisp squares of bread. The pot of course helps him balance the plate without spilling his drink, and a foggy stare sweeps around the crowded room in search of a place to sit. And while the teenager is usually found sitting by himself, actually /finding/ that..when the place is crowded is..difficult. And so he trudges, trekking across the room with as few bumps as possible, then just..stops at a table. Kareyan's, in fact. He wait there, though, watching impassively as the older man drinks. "..Sit?" How lucky, he's not much on words.

Kareyan wipes the foam from his mouth and tilts his head towards the empty chair before taking another sip of his ale. A barmaid shows up a moment later, sliding a laden tray across the table with a bowl of stew and a loaf of bread with a knife. The mute sighs, reaching into his pocket before leaving marks upon the tray. After the woman leaves, he slides his bowl closer, still watching the crowds coming and going. He might be a permanent fixture within this camp, but if he is, so are those he doesn't care for. Kare takes the knife, taking a slice from the bread, then tucking the knife beside his bowl. He dips the crust into the warm broth, tucking the morsel into his mouth before suspiciously eyeing the plant. People must be particular about their table settings when they eat!

That's all Mahl really needs. One had to be careful not to simply..sit at the wrong person's table, after all. That much is a given. He sinks into the chair, placing that plant rather carefully on the table as well. Oh yes, he dotes on it, making sure that everything is completely fine with it and not simply damaged from the trip. Once he seems satisfied, he picks up a square of bread, beginning to eat…starting at the corners. He's predictable this way. It's easy for him to get lost in the act, losing focus as his gaze wanders..nowhere in particular. Thankfully, he manages to continue eating in the meantime, despite a few awkwardly long pauses.

Hopefully that plant doesn't come out and eat him, or his soup. Kareyan eyes his bowl and the plant to be on the safe side. So far, he's met some strangely interesting people here. The elder wouldn't be surprised. The music begins to pick up a little bit and people clear the floor. A few empty tables closest to the musicians are carried outside and lined up outside the windows just in time for a couple of barmaids to swing their heavy skirts to the music. The mute leans back, no longer worried about being bothered by patrons and he enjoys his bread at his leisure. He offers a sidelong glance towards Mahl for a moment, picking out crust from his teeth with the tip of his tongue. The wooden tray with the bread is slid towards him as well as the knife, handle first.

The nearby movement is enough to bring Mahl around, his gaze sliding down onto the bread tray. He seems a little surprised to find that his own hands are empty, having decimated what he typically calls dinner while his mind wandered…rather far. Eyes lift to look at Kareyan for a moment then, gauging the man with a hollow stare. Maybe he's just looking at the guy's teeth. Fingers slide then around the grip of the knife, tugging everything closer to start cutting and pulling, mouth full of bread all over again with one tiny, almost gratified noise. See? He appreciates!

As long as the strange one and his plant stays away from his ale, the mute is fine. Content even, especially since another round was brought his way. He slides his book closer to him, flipping the pages open just a little bit as he scours page after page, pausing to look around him. He stops, letting the book fall closed as he pushes his chair back from the table.

Mahl is quite content to stay away from other people's drinks. After all, he's been given /more/ food than he normally eats in an evening. For free! Though the inevitable jostling of drunken patrons has one man lurching against the table. It brings him face to face with the plant that sits there, laughter bubbling out. "What the hell is this?" A hand latches onto that purple and red blossom, mangling it carelessly as laughs. Mahl tenses entirely, knuckles white around the handle of the knife. With little other thought, the blade rather suddenly drives down into the man's arm, sending him howling.. But at least he lets go. Mahl is quick to gather up the plant, desperately worrying over the crumpled flower.

Ashden's grey framed eyes search the room, eyes trying to peer past, and sometimes attempting to peer through, the patrons of the bar to find a place to sit. He begins walking, again having a little trouble making his way through with that backpack one his shoulder, but managing to gain only a couple of complaints as he walks through. Only man even comments, "Wha do ya have n'there? Sharding rocks?" Ashden's quiet reply of "Yep." isn't likely to be heard by anyone. Ashden's eyes do find Mahl, however, and his face furrows slightly at the sight of the other teen, almost in shame, before he watches as Mahl stabs a man in the arm. Ohhh… well, that sucks. Ashden isn't slow to finish his way in the direction of the table, though, arriving in seconds. A glance is given to Mahl before, quickly, his focus is on the injured man. "Are you alright sir? That looks like it hurts. Here, let me help?" that is when he leans closer to the man, as if offering help, before sliding the bag from his should and dropping it to the floor, right at (on?) the man's feet. The bag is rather heavy.

The man snarls as the bag lands on his feet, still clutching his arm. He glares death though, backing away and out of the bar. After all, there's a knife embedded in there. Someone might want to take it out. Mahl..doesn't really seem to notice. He's being careful, but it looks as though the flower may in fact survive it's harrowing encounter. Only when he's more assured that the damage isn't lasting does he look up, staring at Ashden with a faint widening of his eyes. "Ash." He seems to notice then that the plant-masher has left…and there is a heavy bag on the floor. "…What is it?"

Ashden's mug of khal has been set on the table that Mahl and the older man currently sit at, and the teen takes a moment to watch as the man-with-a-knife-in-his-arm (yeah, the dude has a lot of hyphens in his name. Weird!) rushes from the room, smiling slightly at the sight. Never a dull moment around here, is there? Ashden's attention is on Mahl after that, before looking down to the bag. "Its a bag." As he makes the statement he leans down to pick the bag back up, slinging it once again over a single shoulder. "It is full of rocks." And, with a glace at an empty chair, and to the table's two occupants, Ashden questions, "May I?"

"Yes." Apparently sitting at Kareyan's table is ok! Just no stealing the ale. Mahl certainly has no qualms about it. And the empty chair? He slides the potted plant over to the empty section of table in front of it. "..Here." Maybe he likes giving flowers. Maybe he thinks he did something wrong. Either way, the slightly rumpled flower has been gifted, and a hand reaches promptly for Ashden's thigh. So bold! But the teenager seems focused on..the pants. "Bought them..?" They're /new/. New clothing is quite the novelty. "Why do you have rocks?"

The mute doesn't care so long as people don't get touchy feely with him while he's drinking. If someone does, the plant is his first victim. It's staring at him inappropriately.

The twins. The mocha skinned pair often keep to themselves. Sparring with each other mostly in training, keeping to each other's company. They generally keep quiet and are quite a solemn pair. That their older sister is a gold rider is no doubt common knowledge, though also that they think very little of her is also so. Liam and Leran, the pair so alike they oft get mistaken for each other save when they fight. Liam prefers knives while his brother is a fan of hand to hand. They walk in the pub, but it is to a private table they take themselves off to one corner.

"I like rocks." Ashden answers this question first, he looks down at the hand that is touching his thigh. To his credit, he didn't act in surprise when touched, allowing the other teen to examine and touch those new pants. But seriously, who likes rocks /that/ much? As he sits, his eyes go to the plant that is staring inappropriately at the mute. "I almost left them, but when I was walking by the vendor, he saw me and did a lot to get me to buy them. Got them cheap. I think he put the price down a little more when he saw that blood on my hand." Ashden says that calmly, almost as a matter of fact. His gaze moves from the plant to the man he doesn't yet know, Kareyan. A hand (with no blood on it) is offered, "Ashden." His introduction is simple.

Kareyan peers at the hand for a moment, then slowly raises his gaze to the young man attached to it. He takes it when he knows the palm is empty and returns the shake in introduction before snapping towards the barmaids. They know he means nothing by it other than it beats mugs being thrown like the other patrons do.

Mahl doesn't seem at all confused by Ashden's explanation. "Oh." Really, he can't exactly say anything about /anyone's/ strange hobbies. He does smile somewhat though, at the other boy's good fortune in pants. He watches the exchange of handshakes though. He didn't do that, after all. Didn't even give Kareyan his name. Then again, it's often that the teen forgets to do rather..basic things. But why bother? Kareyan won't be calling Mahl's name out in a crowd anytime soon. "Do you..feel better?" Ashden did look rather..off the last time he saw the other boy.

Ashden's hand comes away from Kareyan, one eyebrow lowering and his upper lip being gnawed one for a brief momentas he watches the older man. See, normally when you give a name, someone replies in kind. Normally, but not always. The is a "renegade" populated pub, afterall. He watches Kareyan for a few more seconds before he turns his attention to Mahl. As he does, he take a moment to shift the bag that still hangs on his shoulder, lifting it for a few moments to allow his shoulder a rest before letting the weight back down. "I feel like myself." Is that a good answer? It is what he gives, at least.

"Good." If Ashden felt like…Sally, then Mahl might have to actually be somewhat concerned. He takes a moment to reach for the potted flower, gently pushing the dirt in as something for him to do. There's a brief look toward Kareyan though. Maybe the plant's whispering about all the things it would /do/ to the mute. Ashden has the teen's attention though, easily coming back around to stare at that bag. "Can I see them?" Maybe they're painted!

It would be weird to feel like Sally. Isn't she that overweight lady who sells used computer parts down by the docks? It would be weird and…. squishy to feel like her! Ashden opens his mouth to reply to Mahl, closing it briefly as if he can't make up his mind, then does answer after another moment, "They're only normal rocks. Nothing special, except that they're heavy. I have to carry them until bed tonight." Ah. Another… conditioning? Test? Thing? Ashden's eyes look down at the plant briefly, saying, "If you keep giving me plants at this rate, you could run out."

Mahl stops. He stops moving, his eyes stop wandering, and he just /looks/ at Ashden. He does reach out though, one finger lightly touching the strap of the bag. He's gone quiet though, simply lost in thought perhaps.. But then he reaches for the pot again quickly sliding it closer to himself. "This is the wrong one." Maybe the flower just doesn't want to go with Ash. The teen seems quite determined to keep it now though, pulling the entire thing in, with arms folding up around it.

Ashden turns his head to the side, slightly confused by Mahl's words, and having glance at that finger on his bag. "Wrong one?" He asks, watching as the flower slides away from him. He doesn't wait for an answer before he is lifting the mug of khal to his lips, taking in a large amount of the drink. After a moment, mug still titled, he coughs slightly, as if he breathed in some of the drink, sputtering slightly as he lowers the mug back to the table and wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand. His body has stiffened, and he turns his head to the doorway of the pub and there, standing in the doorway, is a tall, grey haired figure. Dairius, to those who may know him. Father, to Ashden. The man can apparently spook Ashden with a look at the back of his head! Hey, Ashden just /knew/ that his father was there. It isn't explainable. He is already beginning to stand when his father makes a nod toward the outside, knowing simply from the look in the man's eyes that he needed to leave. "I've… I've gotta go." Nothing else is given to say goodbye besides a quick glace to Kare, and a slightly longer one to Mahl, as the teen stands and walks towards the exit, leaving his mug behind and doing his best not to bump into anyone with his bag.

Yes. It is the WRONG plant. Mahl can see that now. So he simply keeps the one at the table for now. But when Ashden jerks, he leans away somewhat, watching. What could have the other teen jerking like that? Why…it's Dairius of course. His head tilts, /watching/ the old man, but that look shifts slowly on to Ashden when the boy gets up to go. He nods though, pulling that plant a little closer to himself. "..Come by before you sleep." Hopefully the other teen will at least know where to go to find the gardener.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License