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* Rhys walks to the front door, stretches a little kink out of his back, unlocks the door, and returns behind the counter. "Hall's open." * Rhys pours himself a half-pint of some dark liquid with a sweet scent and settles on his stool. * Zoya bounces through the door looking absolutely thrilled to be alive. She plops down on a barstool, spins around on it a few times, and stops facing Rhys. "What do you recommend, my friend, (hey that rhymed!) for a *very* special occasion?" * Ylrana walks in, a small, silverish dog-like creature following closely. Ylrana is wearing black boots, and a yellow caftan with a bright blue sash. * Ylrana has a peace-bonded long-sword on one hip and some strange looking crystal throwing triangles are tucked into her sash. <Rhys> ::to Zoya:: As always, that depends on your tastes, High Priestess Zoya. Alcoholic, non-alcoholic? Sweet or tart? <Rhys> ::to the newcomer:: Well met, I am Rhys, the bartender this evening. Can I get you anything?" <Ylrana> Good evening, my lord Rhys. I would be pleased with a dark ale, if one is available, and some cooked meats for Tsornin here ::she gestures to the dog-like creature:: <Zoya> ::considers, smiling:: Well, alcoholic is fine, as long as I'm able to walk home afterwards. And... Sweet, I think. Perhaps just a touch of bittersweet. ::grins, pleased with herself for some reason:: * Yb mopes in through the side door, she is dressed in a plain white blouse and green skirt, she drags her crystal staff on the ground behind her. <Rhys> Bittersweet... alcoholic, but not incapacitating... hmmm... the absinthe went over rather poorly last week, shan't try that again... I do have a sort of kafe liquor that you might like. <Zoya> I shall let myself be guided by you, dear sir. * Zoya nods amiably to the newcomer and watches Yb with a modicum of apprehension. * Rhys pours Zoya a small glass of the thick liquor and hands it to her. "And what are we celebrating?" * Yb plumps down on a stool, her staff clattering on the floor and softly ringing for a moment as she drops it. * Rhys pours the stranger her dark ale. "Here you are. I'll have the meats shortly." ::to Yb:: "Yb, can I get you anything? Some little pick-me-up, perhaps?" * Glossaria wanders in the front door, nose (quite literally) in a book, a huge, old-looking tome nearly half as big as she is. Moving as if by radar, she avoids two tables, a stool, and getting whacked in the head by Yb's falling staff (all without looking up) and takes a seat at the bar. <Ylrana> Thank you, my lord. ::takes a long swallow, then wipes the foam from her mouth with the back of her hand:: <Yb> That sounds nice Rhys. * Rhys hurried into the kitchen and returns a few moments later with a wooden bowl of steaming meat chunks. "Here you are." ::handing it to Ylrana:: * Zoya takes the liquor and sips it delicately. "We are celebrating the solving of a rather perplexing mystery." * Ylrana takes the bowl and places it on the floor. Tsornin eats enthusiastically. * Rhys hesitates momentarily, and then pours Yb a mug of Mist of the Peaks. As he hands it to Yb, he asks, "Something got you down?" <Rhys> What mystery, Zoya? <Zoya> ::grins:: I finally found out what happened to Sylith! <Rhys> ::blinks uncomprehendingly:: Well... I suppose that's nice. <Yb> Yeah, you teleported me the gods only know where, then I had to trudge across the entire continent and into the heart of some steaming jungle to get my staff, and then ALL the way back to this smelly port and nothings changed. ::Yb pouts:: I'm still here. <Zoya> ::oblivious to the others' incomprehension, she takes another minute sip of the liqueur, savoring its flavor.:: <Rhys> ::to Glossaria:: Can I get you anything, Glossaria? ::to Yb:: Well, no matter where you go, there you are, right? <Glossaria> ::lifts her head and looks at Zoya:: Dyd you saie Sylith? <Zoya> ::beams happily at Glossaria:: Yes! <Glossaria> ::turning to Rhys:: Aye, a glasse of meade, pleyse. * Yb takes a big gulp of her Mist, then sighs and puts her head on her arms on the bar, "I suppose...It's just so depressing." * Rhys slings a mug from off the rack, tilts it under the tap, fills it with meade, and sets it in front of Glossaria. "There you go." <Glossaria> Thankee, Milord Rhys. <Rhys> ::to Yb:: Well, consider it a mild rebuke for almost starting a brawl in here. I trust that shan't happen again, by the way. <Zoya> [mental cringe] <Yb> Probably have been better if I'd just let the bitch have the damn thing. * Ylrana pets Tsornin and drinks her ale * Glossaria raises her glass. "Erdian ys moft pleafed, I doubte nott. <Zoya> ::looks hard at Glossaria:: I think you should stop reading such old books for a while. * Rhys raises an eyebrow at Glossaria's reference. <Rhys> Now Yb... you're just saying that. * Glossaria cocks her head at Zoya. Eh? Why ys thatte? * Yb takes another large gulp of her Mist. <Zoya> ::to Glossaria:: It seems to have given you a touch of peculiar accent. * Yb starts sniffing the air. <Glossaria> Yt has? ::frowns for a moment as she mentally replays what she just said:: Oh...I suppose it has. I finished the last volume of Aldrethe's Bestiarye last nyghte...umm, night. <Zoya> Well, that was quick work. <Glossaria> ::frowning:: I suppose it's what I get for eating too quicklye... <Zoya> Well, give it some time to fully digest, and I'm sure you'll feel better. <Rhys> Smell something, Yb? <Yb> Food...I smell food, ::grabs Glossaria's sleeve:: I heard you say you had food. ::Yb has a VERY disturbing look in her eyes.:: <Glossaria> Oh, I feel fine, but I had the oddest dreams...I was caught in a zoo with all sorts of extinct creatures...wha- ::looking up at Yb as she grabs my sleeve:: Food? I have no food with me...well, not the sort of food palatable to humans. <Yb> ::Yb's face becomes completely pathetic, like a kicked puppy:: But you've GOT to have food. I'm SO hungry. <Rhys> ::coughs quietly:: Yb, I have a marvelous kitchen at my disposal, if you would like some food. <Glossaria> ::looking reasonable:: Well, this *is* a tavern. Why not ask Milord Rhys for food? * Yb turns to Rhys with an expression of purest gratitude, "You have food?" <Glossaria> Ummm... Miss...? Would you mind releasing my sleeve? * Yb notices she's clutching Glossaria's sleeve, "Oh, I'm sorry." Yb lets go and turns eagerly to Rhys. * Rhys looks soberly at Yb. "Yb, can I get you something?" <Glossaria> Thank you. ::absently smoothing the fabric, looking unconcerned at the near-assault:: I'm sorry, I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Glossaria, the Tower Librarian. <Yb> Food. <Rhys> Anything in specific? Hot foods? Finger foods? Just some bread, perhaps? <Yb> All of that. <Glossaria> Food? ::frowning:: That doesn't sound...oh, I see. ::frowning thoughtfully at Rhys:: Wait-- did you just call her Yb? <Rhys> ::to Glossaria:: Yes. I'll be right back. ::heads into the kitchen:: <Glossaria> ::beginning to look excited:: Yb? You're Yb? I've read about you! * Yb turns back to Glossaria, "Flattered. Do you have anything to eat?" * Rhys returns with a plate full of slices of ham, and a napkin, fork, and knife. "Here you go, Yb. I'll be back in a bit with some more." <Glossaria> ::shakes her head, still looking excited:: No, I believe m'lord Rhys is getting your food. Is it true you set faerie fire on half of Marsember a few years ago? * Yb starts stuffing her face, the only thing appearing to slow her down is the knife and fork which she's actually using. <Glossaria> ::watches in amazement for a few moments, and looks up at Rhys:: Is she the patron you talked about who drinks mulekick to get drunk in a hurry? * Yb ignores Glossaria as she continues her feeding frenzy. * Rhys comes back out of the kitchen with a plate that has a few rolls and some fruit chunks (apples, peaches, apricot) on it. He deposits it in front of Yb. "Anything else?" * Ylrana watches Yb with a look of contempt * Yb picks up a roll and beans Glossaria in the head with it, "FOOD FIGHT!" <Rhys> ::sharply:: Yb! ::rolls up one sleeve in preparation:: * Yb grabs another roll and throws it at Rhys, missing by a significant margin but knocking a mug to the floor. * Glossaria looks puzzled, shrugs, and pulls out her ubiquitous notebook, tearing off a half-sheet, rolling it into a small ball, and throwing it at Yb. * Yb grabs a handful of ham and a roll, throwing the ham at Glossaria and the roll at Ylrana. <Rhys> That's it. ::Rhys reaches his hand out to Yb, gathers it in a fist, and makes a throwing motion. Yb vanishes:: * Ylrana sees the roll coming and whips out a crystal wedge from her belt and throws it... the roll is impaled on the wedge and nailed to the wall. * Glossaria picks the bit of ham off her, studies it, sniffs it, and puts it in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "Hmm...salty." * Rhys looks at Ylrana, walks over to the wall, tugs the wedgie out of the wall, walks it over to her, and places it on the bar next to her. "Please, could you consider *catching* it next time?" <Zoya> ::quietly, to Glossaria:: That's ham, by the way. <Ylrana> ::blush:: Sorry, my lord... I've been reacting on instinct recently. * Temire walks through the door noticing the unusual situation, "Rhys, is this one of those situations that won't make any sense to me no matter how many times you explain it?" * Ylrana reaches into her pocket and pulls out a few silver coins... <Ylrana> This should cover any damage to the wall, I hope... <Rhys> It's all right. ::smiles gently:: Just something to consider. And it's just Rhys. If the other bartenders start hearing me being called "m'lord", they'll raise my dues, I'm sure of it. ::grins:: <Glossaria> ::glancing at Zoya:: Oh...pig, pork, chitlins, the other white meat...that kind of ham? <Ylrana> Ah... I was told that my lord was the standard form of address... * Temire walk to the bar. She's wearing her usual undyed shirt and pants. <Zoya> ::blinks:: Ah... Yes. That kind of ham. Smoke- or salt-cured pig meat. <Rhys> Not for the hired help. ::walks back behind the bar:: Good evening, Temire. Feeling brave tonight? <Ylrana> ::to Rhys:: Would it be terribly intrusive if I inquired what you did to that young woman? <Glossaria> ::nodding:: This one is salt-cured...::corners of her mouth turning down, voice sounding bitter:: I *recognize* the flavor of smoke... <Temire> Cooped up is a better word for it. Besides, I need to practice the sku...::remembers she hasn't met Ylrana::...the things Mistress Tyl'gainia taught me. * Zoya raises an eyebrow in question at Glossaria. * Temire gives a short bow to Ylrana, "I'm Temire, apprentice to Mistress Yohko." <Rhys> ::to Ylrana:: I dumped her a couple hundred leagues east north-east of here. She should be calmed down by the time she gets back. <Rhys> More ale? <Ylrana> Please ::she smiles:: <Ylrana> ::to Temire:: Nice to meet you, my lady. I am called Ylrana <Glossaria> ::giving Zoya a mirthless smile:: I think some of the books in the Library were recovered from catastrophe, Mistress. And I've heard tales from some of my...ummm...kin. * Temire chuckles, "Oh I'm about as far from being a lady as you can get without living on the Pleasure Island. So what brings you to our fair city?" Temire perches on a bar stool. <Zoya> Ah, I see. * Rhys refills the stranger's mug. "Here you are." * Ylrana drinks <Ylrana> ::shakes her head:: I must go talk with my friend again. He definitely told me I should address everyone as my lord and my lady... * Temire smiles, "It's good advice if you DON'T know how to address someone. People who don't need to be addressed by those titles won't mind and people who should be addressed by those titles will get offended if you don't. <Zoya> ::grins at Yl:: Well, it's certainly *safer* to address everyone that way until you learn what they prefer. <Rhys> Can I get you anything this evening, Temire? <Ylrana> In any case, Temire-sol, I am here to learn. <Temire> I think just some fruit juice. I definitely can't afford to lose any of the fighting ability I do have. <Zoya> Speaking of which... ::half-bows to Yl:: I am Zoya, priestess of Erdian, and you may call me Zoya if you wish - or m'lady if it makes you more comfortable. ::grins:: * Temire blinks at Ylrana, "Sol? I've never heard that form of address before. What does it mean?" <Ylrana> ::grins:: It means... woman of ability... * Rhys serves Temire a glass of the same juice he poured himself when the Hall opened. <Zoya> ::mutters:: Probably a term of respect, possibly gender-specific... Like m'lady. <Glossaria> ::lifts her eyebrows at the hint of a new piece of information, and her pencil appears as if from nowhere:: * Ylrana nods to Zoya <Glossaria> ::dropping a brief curtsey:: My name is Glossaria. I work for Mistress Zoya as Tower Librarian. ::smiling:: "Glossaria" is fine. <Ylrana> It is an honor to meet you, m'lady Zoya ::bows:: I give honors to your God, of whom I know very little... <Ylrana> And you, m'... Glossaria-sol. * Temire chuckles again, then makes a production of looking carefully over both her shoulders, "Don't let Master Yohko hear you say that or I'll be black and blue for a month." <Zoya> ::laughs:: That's all right. Most people know very little of him. I suspect the average citizen doesn't *want* to know much about him, actually. ::doesn't seem particularly distressed about this:: <Ylrana> ::looks a little confused:: I fear I have not the privilege of understanding you, Temire-sol <Glossaria> ::straight-faced:: I believe she's dissembling. Or joking. I have a hard time telling them apart. * Temire smiles at Ylrana, "I just recently became Mistress Yohko's apprentice. If she thinks I'm going around passing myself off as some accomplished adventurer she'd spar with me until one of us convinced the other to accept her point of view." <Zoya> ::grins:: I think she's concerned that her teacher will interpret that "woman of ability" translation literally. <Glossaria> ::jotting down the occasional note in her book:: M'i..umm...Ylrana-sol, might I know what sort of species your companion is? I don't recognize him, tho' he bears some resemblance to a dog... <Ylrana> ::grins:: Tsornin? He's a Rasclinn... <Glossaria> ::both eyebrows climbing into her hairline as she takes rapid notes:: A...rasclin? If I'm not being too forward...ummm...where are you from, m'lady? <Ylrana> ::turns to Temire:: May I? ::she takes hold of Temire's arm and holds it out:: You have calluses from handling a sword... that makes you a sol. Even if you are only beginning to learn... <Zoya> ::mentally revises her definition of sol to include military bearing;; <Glossaria> ::still taking notes:: So....only nobility are allowed to wield swords, where you come from? * Temire thinks for several moments, "What about...I mean what would...Oh, I mean...Um...How can you tell it's a sword and not a broom?" <Ylrana> ::laughs:: I can tell... I was laprin-minta... I am very familiar with the sword. <Temire> laprin-minta? * Zoya pulls her feet up onto the stool and wraps her arms around her legs, watching and listening with a mixture of fascination, curiosity, and amusement. * Glossaria continues scribbling furiously, glancing up from time to time with a prayerful expression as she hopes she's getting the spelling right. <Ylrana> First in the laprin trials... the best of the untried - those who have not held a sword in battle. We compete once every three years. <Glossaria> ::shaking her head, eyes shining:: This is wonderful...it's all new, and I get to put it down first... <Ylrana> The sols and solas do not always wield a sword... the mind-force can also give one rank... ones rank is granted by many things, how strong ones Kelar is, how well one bears ones sword, the training of horses, and so on... * Temire blinks, "But...I mean...That is...How can you become that skilled WITHOUT having been in battle?" <Zoya> It's probably not *entirely* new. If her people have any sort of writing, then they've probably beaten you to it. <Temire> solas? <Glossaria> ::undaunted:: Aye, Mistress, but nothing in *this* language... <Ylrana> ::looks confused:: do your people go into battle *without* training? That seems a bit harsh... <Zoya> ::grins:: <Glossaria> Ummm... Kelar? And...where are you *from*? <Temire> [Well, since Gloss is the first bookworm to write, that HAS to be true.] <Ylrana> The great desert... it is several months ride from here... <Ylrana> Solas... the men of ability... <Glossaria> [:P Hey, I'm not the first bookworm to write...my uncle Charlie was a wonderful Schnittschreiber...and there's arty and mehitabel!] <Temire> Sometimes. Usually they have some kind of training. But those of such skill that they can distinguish a soldiers hand from a farmers are usually veterans of many battles. * Zoya ticks off another mental note on the shades of meaning... <Glossaria> ::licking her pencil point for a moment, pausing to think, and resuming her mad scribble:: The desert? Not...::scratching her head with the end of her pencil:: Anauroch? <Ylrana> ::grins:: We believe there is more to being a soldier then just swinging a sword. Learning to observe and analyze are great parts of our training... <Ylrana> I believe that is the name it is called by Outlanders, yes <Glossaria> ::looking *exceedingly* puzzled now:: But... the words you use... what tribe do you belong to? <Ylrana> And Kelar is the ability to use ones mental strength, those abilities granted by the gods, and also by the study of ancient texts, as well as those abilities that are just natural... <Zoya> ::perking up:: You do not distinguish between magic of the world, magic of the gods, or magic of the mind? <Ylrana> it is all kelar... <Zoya> Interesting. But you don't have any problem telling which is which... <Ylrana> Is it important? Each sol and sola with kelar has different abilities... <Zoya> It may not be important to you, but it can be important in determining how to teach a person. There are some problems with this difference here. <Glossaria> Hmmm...are there different words to describe warriors of the sword, or the bow, or the spear? <Glossaria> ::looking at Zoya:: If it's a descriptor imposed from outside the specialty group, it would make sense... <Temire> So what did you come to Marsember to learn Ylrana? <Ylrana> I came to learn about Outlanders... <Zoya> ::laughs:: Well, we're about as outlandish a bunch as you can get, in here... <Ylrana> I have been traveling for several months, stopping here and there to talk with strangers... I was told, upon entering this city, that the most interesting and strange people could be found here. <Glossaria> ::smiling:: The lady who...umm...left a little while ago is, by all accounts, the most outlandish of those who come here. [and when she says all accounts, she MEANS all accounts.] * Temire chuckles lightly and sips her juice, "The more times I come here, the more I agree with that statement." <Ylrana> Ah... I am regretful, then, that I did not get to opportunity to speak with her... <Temire> You're not referring to Michelle are you Glossaria? <Glossaria> ::cocking an eyebrow at Temire:: Michelle? No. Yb was here, just before you came in. * Temire shakes her head, "I've never met the woman mind you Ylrana. But many people that I trust have told me on more than one occasion to give her as wide a birth as possible." <Ylrana> Is she dangerous? * Rhys looks out the doorway. "Five minutes to closing, gentles." <Temire> I've been told that being around Yb is like standing on a snowy mountain having a drunken party. The avalanche doesn't mean to kill you all, but it does anyway. <Glossaria> ::blinking:: Michelle? Or Yb? Ah. * Zoya finishes off her liqueur and stands up. "Ready to head back to the Tower, Glossaria?" <Ylrana> Hmmm... perhaps... I will have to consider this carefully. I thank you for your advice, Temire-sol. <Temire> So where are you staying Ylrana? <Ylrana> I have not made arrangements... I believe I will pitch my tepi outside the city walls this evening, and make arrangements on the morrow <Glossaria> ::blinking again and cocking her head to one side:: There's a record of twenty-four people swearing complaints against her in the space of one watch...and they all lived in different parts of Marsember. <Glossaria> ::smiling a little:: And I learned some of my most colorful language in reading letters to the editor of the Marsember Herald, concerning her. <Ylrana> ::to Rhys:: And how many coins do I owe you, Rhys-sola? <Zoya> An example is *not* necessary, Glossaria. <Glossaria> ::raising her eyebrows and quickly finishing her meade:: Yes, I'm ready to go, Mistress. Sorry, Mistress. <Rhys> Whatever you can spare will be more than enough. * Temire bounces off the stool, "You can come and stay with Mistress Yohko and Mistress Michelle and I. No reason for you to stay outdoors if you don't have to. Besides, Mistress Michelle and Mistress Yohko have been to LOTS of neat places." <Ylrana> ::blinks a few times:: I can spare a silver or two. Will that be adequate? * Zoya tosses a silver piece on the counter and sighs. "I've told you, you don't have to keep apologizing for every little..." <Zoya> ::speech fades as she heads out the door:: <Rhys> ::to Ylrana:: More than so. * Temire finishes her juice, "Thanks Rhys." <Ylrana> I would be more keenly interested in making the acquaintance of your Mistress, Temire-sol. I thank you. * Temire places the mug on the floor and shoos it towards the kitchen. * Ylrana hands a few silver coins to Rhys * Rhys takes the coins and drops them in the strongbox. * Temire smiles at the departing mug, "This is such an interesting place." * Ylrana stares at the mug, Tsornin sniffs at it and makes a strange hooting noise * Rhys steps out of the mug's way after it rounds the corner and heads for the kitchen. * Temire turns to Ylrana, "Come on, it's a bit of a walk." <Glossaria> ::following Zoya out:: I'm sor-- um, my apolo... oh, dear... um... yes, mistress. <Ylrana> Can you ride? I have a good horse... ::follows Temire:: * Temire heads for the door, making certain that she isn't leaving Ylrana behind. <Temire> Ride? I've never been on a horse before. <Ylrana> ah, well, you can ride in front, then.... <Ylrana> Tsornin, come along and leave the mug-man alone, dearest... * Temire exits gushing enthusiastically about getting to ride a horse. * Ylrana walks out the door, Tsornin makes a few more hooting noises, licks the mug, and follows his mistress * Rhys walks to the door, locks it, collects the dishes off the bartop, and heads back into the kitchen to begin cleaning up after the night's festivities. |
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