Fantasy Casual Moderate ✿ڿڰۣ— The Queen's Tavern —ڰۣڿ✿

[Fatal Nymph]

By this point Tess was warm with her usual plum sake and once again with an empty bottle in hand. It was the usual sights, people coming and going in all sorts of manners, the place always rather lively, and it was even more so apparent when the servers were not on top of her empty bottle. Though she held no complaint. The giant was a pleasant sight. Those poor souls always seemed to be dead before reaching her depths of the ocean, then again if someone made it there and was alive it was quite the surprise for them both. Usually it was some sort of pirate or adventurer looking for something that she never had a clue about.

Now there was another sight to behold. a fully mechanical being. That she would need to be cautious around. An accidental touch could end badly for either of them. Tonight did not seem like a good night for death either. She had always imagined her death as a slow fall to the bottom of the ocean and there she would become one with the blue ecosystem of violence and beauty. However she was rather fascinated by the cantankerous thing. It seemed to catch quite a bit of attention and yet it was also swallowed up into the noise of the bar. This place certainly held its charm of allowing all to be just another customer.

With that the black and white creature got up cup in hand albeit empty and made her way back down to the bar. This time there didn't seem to be any issues as the the place was settling into a normal swing of decent behavior, or at least not bad enough to be tossed out. Few people that were close enough seemed to get a shudder and move out of the way. Though thanks to Lady Rose, she could easily be just another pretty face. It was always a pleasant thing to not be the center of unwanted attention. She might feel guilty if not for how fierce the Queen was and had so many things in place that it would put most of the world to shame and that was just Lady Rose. That didn't even include those who were bouncers, watchers, or protectors in this place. Tess wasn't among any of those, she was always just a bit too nosy for her own good and people here just let her be as it always seemed that she was acting as a protector. Perhaps she had been a regular for a little bit too long.

It took a little bit, but she finally made her way up to the bar, where warm smiles always greeted her.

 

[Sylent Hyll]

After working the kinks out of her muscles a bit more, she put her hands on her pack and glanced at the chairs placed around the table she had chosen. She looked again to confirm what she saw: a chair of a shorter stature, not quite built for children but certainly not built for the usual gargantuan fellows she encountered. Moreover, it actually had cushions fastened to it. Pressing into them a bit, she saw that they were sturdy but relatively soft; her hands actually sank into them a bit, and they slowly relieved themselves of her imprints when she removed her hands from them. Well...that was new.

Actually, the cushions weren't entirely new, but it was odd to see that particular method of interaction with cushions that weren't of the finest materials enchanted by the wealthier and more prominent members of the Capital Tower and of Stormhaven in general. And affixed by some unseen method to a chair of such simplistic design...she knelt to look under the chair, the mechanic's mind poked a bit by the curious construction of it; she felt a small twinge of satisfaction at the confirmation of her hypothesis that the cushions were woven into the seat and back of the chair via some form of cords that she thought were probably leather, given the look and feel of them. They were tightly bound, too - well-constructed and functional rather than built for aesthetic.

Two such chairs graced the table she now took a better look at, seated before the lowered half. Why hadn't anyone else thought of this before? The other half of the small round table, at which the man who'd just vacated the table had been sitting, was a full six inches taller despite the underside of the table being flat and even. Stools graced the other side, one of the three of them with a leather backing and cushion - likely pulled there from the bar or from other tables - but the design of the table itself was fascinating. She was no woodcarver but couldn't help admiring the craftsmanship and innovation of the table regardless.

She sat gently upon one of the cushioned chairs and found herself quite comfortable. Not only that, it didn't creak at all - despite my fat rump, she thought to herself sourly; I really need to lay off the blueberry tarts - indicating that it was as sturdy as it was comfortable. This was definitely a relief after a long journey aboard that ship, and the back was even tall enough that she could rest her head against the back's cushion. She closed her eyes for a few moments before licking her lips. Yeah, her throat was a bit parched. She definitely needed a drink.

After another moment, she dragged herself out of her mock stupor and dug out a small pouch of coins from her pack. Would they be accepted here? The two gold crowns and several silver marks she possessed bore markings that were foreign to most ports, she'd found, and not everyone took them; she'd been able to get by with work and trade in exchange for food and lodging, and she might have to again. It was a risk leaving Volva here at the table but she didn't have much of a choice; he needed maintenance and was low on power beside. She reached under the back of the skull and clicked the switch from ACTIVE to PASSIVE, allowing him to conserve power. She doubted very much anyone would try anything stupid in a tavern this crowded.

The other concern, however, was communication. She pulled a small bit of blank folded parchment and her peacock quill from the pocket of her corduroy overalls and swept from hair from her face before turning to face the bar. There were a handful of tables betwixt hers and the bar, and she looked with slight dismay at the setup. Her head would barely reach the damned thing, it looked like, and the stools were tall enough for the patrons seated thereupon to easily rest upon the bar.

Instead, she looked about to see whether there were barmaids moving about. It looked like there were a couple, but they were on the other end of the room at the moment. Wonderful. Maybe she should take the chair? She looked down at the the black work boots she wore...no, definitely not. A glance at the chair told her it would be not only impolite but also imprudent to sully the cushions with her footwear. Maybe she could stand on Volva...?

 

[Cog]

Laurent chuckled at the Queen's comment that despite the range of beings taller than humans, he was still even taller than him. Afterward, he lifted his glass and brought it to his lips, enjoying the drink. He looked out back to the patrons of the tavern. The one that came in with what Laurent assumed to be an automaton seemed busy in their mind. Laurent’s eyes then noticed an aquatic-looking humanoid who appeared to be people-watching just as he was. Spring's comments about his experience brought Laurent out of this person watching, and he focused back on the draconic being. This talk about these beings, the Tel'Horthin, interested him.

He listened as Sprint talked about them and what information he seemed to know. Laurent could sense that despite them bringing it up, it was probably a sore subject, and he decided against bringing it up. Laurent then replied,

“ It seems despite the different realms, war, and death are always present. Not that I expect differently, but maybe there is on our there that has known peace longer than the last.”

 

[Sylent Hyll]

Solveig didn't particularly feel like drawing more attention to herself by forcing Volva to march over to the bar for her to climb onto. Instead, she took up her coin pouch and parchment and quill and headed over to the bar herself. It took her a moment to find an empty stool, upon which she set her things; the bar seemed to have a similar setup to the table she'd chosen but at the moment, the stool she'd found was the only seat available and there was only so much space in which to utilize it. Thankfully, it had two rung sets. She carefully balanced on the stool by placing her hands firmly upon the opposite side as she stepped up the rungs like a ladder; then she steadied herself by leaing against the bar, hoping the stool wouldn't collapse under her. Finally, she looked about for the barkeep - he was at the other end of the bar, facing away from her as he spoke with another patron.

She rolled her eyes. Just her luck. She'd have to take the stool with her and do this thing all over again. The barmaids were still busy elsewhere in the tavern, so she climbed down and pocketed her things. Picking up the stool, she hauled it over to the other end of the bar. Thankfully, there was a bit of space at the end. But just as she made her way back up to the bar once more, the barkeep was turning away and heading down to the other end. She smacked her palm against her forehead.

Well, if she kept this up, her luck wasn't likely to change with the barkeep. But if she just stood here, she'd probably be balancing precariously for a while as he took his time to notice that she existed. She sighed and climbed down again. She put the stool back where she'd found it and returned to her table with her things, as she wasn't going to play that silly game. Shaking her head, she instead decided to begin swapping out the mana crystals. She'd see about a drink again after she was done; clearly, she wasn't getting one right now.

Leaning in close to the box atop Volva, Solveig slid her thumbs in a particular pattern along a certain pair of spots on the front; then she pressed inward and upward gently but firmly to unseal the container. Deftly slipping her fingers inside, she temporarily disabled the dual trap mechanisms and opened the container fully. She wasn't paranoid; she had been stolen from before. This box was heavily warded and trapped in a very particular way to prevent exactly that. Moreover, she couldn't do it when she was anxious, fearful, upset, angry, et cetera; it had to be done when she was relatively calm. It was a rather brilliant (and expensive) bit of magic even aside from the glittering black powder traps themselves, which would blind and choke in the same expulsion should anyone somehow manage to open the box improperly.

Pulling out a couple of tools, she quickly got to work on removing an underside panel that allowed her to open up Volva's side. She donned a pair of runic gloves to protect her hands and carefully removed one of the mana crystals. It was oddly shaped, oblong, and about the size of a basset hound. Once it was removed, she placed it into a mold sitting inside the box. She then replaced it with a fresh one. She repeated this process thrice more. The crystals were almost black when they should be a vibrant forest green and have a bit of a glow to them, which wasn't a good sign; it would take a while to fully recharge them, restoring them to their verdant lustre. But the voyage had been long and arduous, and there had been too many prying eyes - and fingers - for her liking. So she'd waited until now.

Finally finishing her task, she set the side back down and locked up the access panel. Setting the crystals within the mold to charge, she pulled out a different set of tools to begin replacing bolts and the like and making minor adjustments, including adding a bit of oil where needed, in order to make the wheels and hindquarters move far more easily and quietly. It was perhaps a bit noisy, but it was certainly quieter than the movement itself had been! And finally, she began cleaning up. It wasn't perfect, but it would hold for now.

Resealing the box, she was definitely ready for that drink. She turned to look about the tavern once more.

 

[Fatal Nymph]

Tess had set the empty bottle down upon the bar but made no motion to garner anyone's attention. She instead watched as the small one attempted to gain a drink and then call it quits, as would she after such a display. It wasn't always easy here for everyone. Once the female had her bottle exchanged she asked for a large ale as well. She paid extra for it and walked over to the metal creature and it's mistress.

Without really saying much, she sat the ale down where it wouldn't simply be knocked over and sat down herself at the table. It seemed her body adjusted well to the new seating arrangement. Her dress looked like tendrils and thin fins covering her feet as she adjusted to sitting partially on her hip. Her sake and cup sat before her. Deep blue solid eyes stared between the creature and it's mistress.

"I do hope the drink is what you were hoping for. If not I am happy to share my plum sake." Her voice like a melody.

It was interesting to have watched her take things apart and back together however that wasn't something she was good at, though watching it seemed to be soothing. "Is that your creation? Or a companion?" Her question sincere and genuine curiosity. Some beings were absolutely mechanical, though they never lived for long at her depth of the ocean.

 

[UndeadEyes]

While the two 'men' talked, she gently lifted her glass of wine to her lips and took a slow sip, listening at the two spoke. Though she did not look to see the new arrival, given her throne of vines was facing away from the door, she still sensed them. Sometimes she greeted newcomers and other times, especially if already in conversation, she stayed where she was. Given she was in a three-person convo, she chose to stay in her seat.

"There are, indeed, very peaceful places in the different universes and realities that exist. I have been in them. Some I assisted in the creation of... However, it is rarely designed without the brainwashing and warping of the state of mind lest all the creatures naturally lack the emotions required for the hatred and distain needed for war..."

Shifting her glowing eyes to Spring, she tilted her head faintly. "He has met giants and other large creatures due to our time together. He knew of creatures of these types existing, to some degree... He even faced some dragons in the days..." Her gaze then fell to Laurent. "I do still question how your father got dragons to attack LaQuin..."

She had a tone of understanding when stating the word 'father', given she knew Laurent had turned his back on his tyrant father and the kingdom he was from to fight for the other when young.

 

[Hekazu]

Spring was somehow getting a feeling that suggested his presence was not as welcome as it may or may not have once been. Perhaps he was rather tolerated as a curiosity over as a proper participant. Multiple times over he was being told that his suggestions might not truly live up to the level that he made them out to be, like they thought him a braggart with little of real substance to say. He crossed his legs in his standing posture and wrapped his wings before himself subconsciously, forming a barrier akin to a human crossing their arms.

"Wouldn't have been much of a problem if those were adherents of the King whom my Queen deposed", he lifted one wing momentarily, "but given we speak of a different world altogether I have many doubts old Razorgore, may he struggle in afterlife as he did in his final moments, would have cared enough to spare a thought to such journeys." If the topic of Tel'Horthin had raised suspicions of sore topics, one could now practically hear the wyvern's loathing towards this other, supposedly royal dragonid creature. He knew better than to probe into family matters however, especially estranged ones. For now he yet chose to hang about and see if the conversation would continue in a similar vein, or if perhaps it would indeed be time for him to peel himself to other topics.

 

[Sylent Hyll]

((Character Reference))

It began with a smoldering of stone in darkness. Not brimstone - that stench was to follow - but simple stone that grew hot until it began to glow red. Then flames began to spread outward, burning nothing at first but spreading until an eruption of heat and the roar of a furnace that was an entire world crying out against the barrier between it and this one shook the air and reverberated throughout the building. It was a deep, dischordant chorus of many voices uttering naught but sounds that could not be identified by most mortals. The flames quickly grew white-hot and formed a kind of hole in reality, one that effortlessly burned through the wood above.

Above, the smoke began pouring through the floorboards and was soon followed by an explosion of fiery shrapnel. Those voices called out again, and it was perhaps only by extreme effort that one could make out words among them.

SHOKUL, FEKA!​

And there it was: the final literal fuck you, bitch. The flames began to recede just a few seconds after they had erupted, vanishing from below first. What remained was a white-hot ball of burning...something...clinging to a scorched ceiling that somehow hadn't been consumed yet. After a few moments, that ball began to fall. It landed heavily upon the wood that had yet to burn, splintering it as the flames danced and flickered, ultimately vanishing into the form of a red-skinned woman cloaked in a dragon's hide.

All she could do at first was wince and try to breathe. Even by her standards, that had been...extreme. She honestly hadn't known her world could get that hot, and she bathed and swam leisurely in lava. But it had been a deeper heat than what touched her crimson skin, the short spikes upon her skull, or the black horns that were probably now even blacker from scorching for the first time in her existence. Every inch of her, inside and out, through and through felt the ghost of the shadow of indescribable agony. That pain was fading now, leaving only extreme pins and needles behind; they, too, would fade in time. Even her hooves stung. They must have been really pissed off this time.

"Well..." she gasped. "That was new."

After several more tense and excruciating moments, she finally let her eyes and muscles relax; her breathing began to steady and her long tail to unwind; she flexed it a bit as it slipped from under her disarrayed cloak, snakelike in its movements. Drawing in a shuddering breath, she slowly got to her hands and knees. When she had one hoof under her at last, she straightened her cloak. Checking her dragonhide pants and dragonscale brassiere, she saw that they were surprisingly undamaged; so, too, was the bandolier and attached belt that held her sword and pouches.

Then she noticed how fucking cold it was. She shivered and looked around - at enough people to make her almost blush if she'd been able. Her solid black eyes gazed back at them defiantly, hiding her shame at having been cast out so publicly. They were not eyes in the same sense that mortals thought of eyes, of course; they were more bottomless pits of darkness blacker than one could accurately describe. She wondered momentarily where she was. This did not look like the peninsular cliff overlooking a deep chasm filled with jagged rocks and living, predatory shadows with primordial minds and endless hunger. If this was the same spot as before...was there a tavern here in the past? This was a tavern, right? It seemed like it was. She didn't recall anyone building a tavern here...ever.

Wait...if there was a tavern here, and this was the same place she'd been thrown out to before...

...was there a city here now?!

"What. The. Fuck."

 

[UndeadEyes]

The sudden sounds behind her drew her attention from the conversation with the two men. For the best, perhaps. Seeing the smoke, she glanced up wither bright eyes, noting the figure that then fell back to the floor from two stories above. Well, at least they seemed to be alive, shown in the little movements before they got up completely.

Placing her hands on the armrest of her throne of vines, she rose to her feet, the vines curling back to her and hiding away below her elaborate gown. Turning, she slid between the Wyvern and the remaining throne her vines had encompassed, her hand rising to place on his side as she passed as if to excuse herself for a moment.

Approaching the scene, she lifted a hand and motioned gently with it to indicate that eyes should turn away, to which the crowd did. It was not uncommon for crowds to look, but they had seen stranger things in their lives than a demon girl and far--far weirder entrances.

The queen didn't say anything as she looked over the floor momentarily before tilting her head up to look at the ceiling. "Perhaps the door would be a better choice in the future..." She spoke softly, her general soft tone not great at indicating sarcasm, but due to the lack of any anger or annoyance on her face, it was at least clear she wasn't that annoyed by it.

With a swipe of her foot across the floor, any leftover scorches or damage to the wood sealed, the ceiling doing the same. Looking to the bar, she smiled and lifted a hand in the direction of the tender. "Tend to our guest... I am feeling...musical again..."

"Yes, Your highness." The tender nodded, heading closer to the bar to try and get the new woman's attention to see if she wanted anything to eat or drink.

While he did this, the Queen headed back toward the playing band, contemplating the feelings running through her mind.