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* Michelle lets the closet out and announces, "Hall's Open!" * Michelle returns behind the bar and resumes reading a book. * Orlann comes in looking fairly well for a change. His black eye is fading nicely and his hair has been recently rebraided. The ends are done up in green and silver beads which match his grey and forest clothing. "Good evening, Mistress Michelle." * Jaret strolls in, wearing a white shirt with dark blue edges along the chest ruffles, and the hems of the sleeves, and close-fitting black pants. He has his rapier at his side, and removes his plumed hat as he enters. "Good evening, Michelle. Can I trouble you for a snifter of Sembian brandy, if you still have some?" * Michelle puts a marker in the book, "Good evening Orlann, Jaret. Can I get you anything Orlann?" Starts preparing Jaret's drink. * Kevil enters, dressed for a performance, lute in hand. He gives those present a somewhat strained smile. "Good evening, my friends." He takes a seat at the bar. <Orlann> ::gives Kevil a quick bow:: Good evening, Master Kevil. How's your family been keepin' themselves? <Orlann> ::to Michelle:: A beer'd be right fine, ma'am. * Michelle sets Jaret's brandy on the bar for him, "Good evening Kevil. Can I get you anything?" * Michelle selects a mug, "Beer please." Selecting a tap at random she fills the mug with a pink syrupy substance, "That wasn't beer." * Orlann eyes the pink syrup. "What's that there?" <Kevil> ::smiles at Orlann:: My family is well, thank you, Sergeant. Very well indeed. * Michelle places the mug on the floor, "Go take a bath dear." Selecting another mug Michelle turns back to the taps, "Let's try this again. The sergeant would like a beer please." <Michelle> ::over her shoulder to Orlann:: I have no idea. But it would probably have rotted your teeth clean out of your skull. * Michelle picks up another mug and tries another tap this time getting a brown bubbly substance that forms a layer of foam. "Try that Orlann." <Kevil> And how are you and yours? * Orlann sniffs cautiously, eying the waddling pink mug. * Jaret has some of his brandy. "What are you reading, Michelle?" <Michelle> A discussion of blue roses. The author seems to feel that blue roses can only be the product of magical interference and therefore don't qualify as true roses since any third rate street magician can dye a rose. <Jaret> Really? Well, I assume it's possible, but I thought... I have some florist acquaintances I'll have to ask about that. <Orlann> Tarri's doin' fair... ::takes a sip of beer:: I reckon... she's had a right bit of work t'do recent-like. <Kevil> ::nods:: I have been told that summer is a busy season for healers - injuries as folk are out and about more to enjoy the weather. * Michelle shrugs, "I've never encountered a blue rose that was capable of making other blue roses, but then most mages that would be powerful enough to accomplish such a task aren't much into flowers." * Lisl enters, bowstaff in hand, an assortment of rabbits and squirrels at her belt. "Evening, all. 'Chelle, do you think you can make anything edible of these? It seemed a shame to waste them." She strides to the bar and hands over her furry bundle. <Orlann> Ah, Miss Lisl... ::he gives her a broad grin:: You'll be right happy, I reckon, t'hear that there weren't no overly suspicious-like activities this month. <Michelle> ::takes the carcasses:: I think I can probably manage something. Did you want some now, or can I get you something else? <Lisl> A bit of venison would be welcome. There were plenty of 'em out there today, but I only had the light arrows with me today. ::unslings her quiver and leans it against the bar at her feet:: <Lisl> Nothing at all? ::raises both eyebrows:: I don't know that "happy"'s the word I'd use, but... is that because nothing came of it, or because you caught the bastards? <Orlann> ::shakes his head:: No, we didn't catch no one... but there weren't no attacks and there weren't no murders like you was thinkin' there might be, so I'd rightly say that was a good thing, ayuh? <Michelle> I'll be back in just a moment. ::Disappears into the kitchen with Lisl's catch:: <Kevil> Certainly, that sounds like a blessing to me. <Lisl> ::frowns:: Aye... though... then we're back to figuring out where in the hells they're stashing a wolf for four weeks. <Jaret> Definitely better than the alternative. Possibly the problem has sorted itself out? <Lisl> ::snorts:: Maybe she sickened off a street rat. <Orlann> ::shakes his head:: I don't reckon the problem did us a favor and took itself away. But I reckon it's fair good that it ain't, you know, breedin' or nothin'. <Lisl> Those smugglers-- have you heard any more of them? * Michelle returns from the kitchen with a plate of venison, some flatware, and a bottle, all of which she sets down in from of Lisl, "There you go." <Orlann> ::shrugs:: I ain't got the slightest idea where they got themselves off to. But they ain't likely to seek us out, neither. * Lisl breathes deeply. "Heaven. Thanks, 'chelle." She shakes out a pool of sauce on the side of her plate, pulls the eating knife from her boot, and digs in with a will. <Lisl> ::nods:: Must be a load off your mind, at least. ::takes a bite (well, it would be a bite, if chewing were at all involved) and swallows, glancing at Kevil.:: And you, Kevil? Kicked out again? <Kevil> No; I am on my way home from a wholly unsuccessful experiment. ::he grimaces faintly:: <Jaret> An... experiment? Is that how you refer to your compositions? It sounds too clinical. <Lisl> ::raises an eyebrow:: Has Zoya got you running about, too? <Kevil> ::snorts:: No... Zoya asked me to go to a particular tavern which she believes is a centerpoint for the rumor-spell, and attempt to, ah, win over the clientele. They would not even let me in the door, so... ::shrugs:: Her theory goes untested. * Michelle quirks an eyebrow, "Rumor-spell?" <Lisl> Hm. ::frowns thoughtfully and glances at her bow in the corner:: You ever been there before, Kevil? <Kevil> Not to my recollection, Lisl. ::nods to Michelle:: Zoya discovered that the ill rumors are a sort of contagion, set with a spell. <Lisl> Hm. ::scratches her chin:: I wonder if they serve food there.... <Michelle> That is interesting. <Kevil> Apparently, however, people who are sufficiently grateful to the Meade Hall and its patrons seem to be immune. Zoya asked me to... remind people that the Hall patrons were instrumental in removing the orc threat last summer, to see if such retroactive gratitude would suffice to remove the spell. * Orlann blinks at Kevil. "What kinda... ah never mind. I ain't never rightly understood magic." <Lisl> ::cocks her head:: What's to keep you from setting up in the middle of market and singing at the top of your lungs, Kevil? <Kevil> ::gives Orlann a sympathetic smile:: It took me some time to understand even a portion of what she told me... <Kevil> ::to Lisl:: Nothing, but as the sun was already westering when the Wheelbarrow, ah, declined my services, I decided to postpone further efforts until the morrow. * Orlann takes a few swigs of his beer. <Lisl> ::nods:: Fair enough. ::tucks away another several slices of venison:: She asked me to check in on a midwife who seems to be another focus... apparently, though, it's been a banner week for new mothers. She's not been home long enough for me to see her. ::coloring faintly:: I think her neighbor thought I was in a family way... lucky enough she didn't know my face, anyway. <Kevil> ::chuckles:: <Michelle> Goody Bea? <Lisl> ::shakes her head:: No. Another woman. <Lisl> Feh. ::mutters:: Like I ever want to be that bloated again. <Orlann> ::raises an eyebrow:: You've been... in a family way, ma'am? <Lisl> ::nods:: Aye, some time ago. A good number of my pack are my... ::frowns a moment and starts counting on her fingers, giving up before she has to take off her boots:: well, my descendants, anyway. * Orlann looks as if he wants to ask a question, then decides better of it and finishes his beer. <Lisl> ::gently:: They're not... like me, Sergeant. They got that form direct from their many-times-great-grandsire. <Kevil> ::muttering:: Which is not to say they don't inherit *other* things from the two-legged line... Sense of humor, say... <Lisl> ::raises an eyebrow at Kevil and grins:: Intelligence... taste... <Kevil> ::snorts back at her:: As long as you are not going to attempt to claim all those attributes for a *single* individual. <Lisl> ::laughs:: No, I admit, Bear's not the brightest light in the heavens. ::smiles fondly:: Although he makes up for it in heart. * Orlann looks into the bottom of his mug. <Kevil> And cold nose. <Lisl> ::coughs:: Yes, well. <Michelle> Care for another Orlann? * Orlann holds his mug out. "Please." * Michelle takes Orlann's mug and refills it for him, "There you go." <Michelle> How is everyone else doing? * Lisl polishes off her plate and pushes it away with a sigh. "Much better. Don't suppose you could coax whiskey from those taps, could you, 'chelle?" <Michelle> I can probably manage it Lisl. ::selects a snifter and a tap:: Whiskey for Lisl please. * Michelle lets a few fingers of brown liquid pour into the glass, then sets it in front of Lisl, "There you go." <Jaret> Oh, quite all right here. A little of this, a little of that. Keeping busy however I can. * Orlann polishes his second beer off relatively quickly, then belches loudly. He covers his mouth. "Par'n me." <Michelle> Care for a third Orlann? <Orlann> No, thank you ma'am, but I reckon Tarri'd be right cross with me iffen I was t'come home a bit tippled. <Lisl> Thank, 'chelle. ::sniffs the glass uncertainly before taking a swig:: <Lisl> Ahhh, that's what I needed. * Jaret finishes off most of the brandy left in his snifter. * Kevil picks up his lute and absently plays a short, complicated riff. * Orlann fishes around in his pocket for a while before coming up with a single silver coin. "This'll cover me, ma'am?" * Michelle nods, "Yes it will Orlann." <Orlann> ::smiles:: Good... I reckon I ought to b'heading home... Goodnight to y'all. * Orlann waves to everyone, then heads out. * Jaret stands up. "Good evening, Sergeant. Safe journey home." <Lisl> ::knocks back the rest of her whiskey:: 'Night, Orlann. <Kevil> Hm. I should move homeward, as well. I promised my circle I would not tarry too long. <Lisl> 'Night, then, Kevil. Send them my best, will you? <Kevil> ::gives Lisl a sly smile:: You see, I am not *always* in trouble, d'va? <Michelle> Good night Kevil. <Kevil> ::nods:: Of course. * Jaret finishes off his brandy. "As pleasant as expected." He pulls a few silver pieces out of his pocket. "For tonight. Pleasant evening, Michelle." <Michelle> And to you Jaret. <Lisl> ::laughs:: Best get on home before you are, then. * Kevil starts to fish in his pocket for coin, then realizes he hasn't had anything to drink. He tucks his lute under his arm and strolls out, humming. <Lisl> ::fishes in her pouch and puts a gold on the counter:: Keep the change, 'chelle, goodnight. <Lisl> Come, Jaret, I'll walk you out. ::shouldering her quiver:: <Jaret> Oh, so kind of you. I was worried that I might lose my way... ::he heads for the door:: <Michelle> Good night Lisl. * Michelle sweeps the coins into the lock box and starts shepherding the dishes into the kitchen. <Lisl> ::shakes her head:: Such a world, that kindness is repaid so... ::collects her bowstaff on the way and leaves:: * Jaret leaves the Hall slightly ahead of Lisl. * Michelle dims the lamps, lets the closet in, and locks the door behind her as she leaves. |
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