He listens to Strae as they walk into the strange space. The music, the band, the patrons, the odd impossibilities of the space itself... Jayse can't help but gawk a bit as he smiles. He shakes his head at the card game, and nods his thanks at the small merchant's offer to buy their drinks. "Thanks. Any suggestions or warnings about any of the drink offerings here?" He indicates the joint in general with a quick chin nod, "Or, more to the point, what is this place?"
Bit regards the tall monk with a smile and points to a woman walking around with what appears to be a crystal goblet filled with a spinning vortex of gold light. The glow from the 'beverage' is so intense that it cuts through the hand holding the goblet. You can see every bone clearly outlined.
"I'd avoid any drink called a 'radiant' or an 'exotic'." He nods at the woman's drink, "Radiants always give me gas."
Bit turns to the group as a whole to answer Jayse's second question, "Crossroads is... It's a waypoint between the worlds. Skilled folks that travel the planes stop here - either for a drink, or companionship, or as a means to get where they need to go. Some use it for informal meetings. And some do business here... not me, but some."
He tacks abruptly, "No matter how drunk you get, remember which door you came through. Each door leads to a different spot. And mind the clock. When it chimes once, you've got a hour before the tavern transitions - and those four doors switch to other worlds. Two chimes, and you've got a few minutes to get home or take the ride. You don't need to worry about that tonight, I'll keep an eye on things to make sure you get home."
He assesses the patrons briefly, "Sadly, not too many luminaries here this evening. There was one night when Titivilus was playing Liar's Dice against this Solar. The Solar couldn't bluff for sh!t of course, but he was good at seeing through... well, it doesn't matter. Point being, I hope I didn't build your expectations too much. Now, shall we get some drinks?"
"Sooo...Master Bit, what do you recommend?"
"I see an opening at the bar and I always believe in getting in good with my 'tender. Plus, it'll give you a better look around. Shall we?" He extends his arm to Ushari again and heads to the bar, deftly moving among the crowd of people.
The musician finishes its song to mixed applause and immediately launches into another...
As soon as Bitiborium mentions the clock, the planes, and the room shifting, Jayse paints a mental picture of exactly how the room looked when they entered.. minding anything that could remotely be considered a landmark in case there is any confusion when/if they have to leave.
"Warnings noted. And I wouldn't worry about this place not living up to any expectations. I was expecting a nice seafood dinner with a sunset view. This is definitely something else."
Straehan grins somewhat sheepishly, "Nothing specific... just never seen a Celestial Archon get rolled like a drunk before... especially by a Stained Glass Golem and a Carnivorous Crystal. That's a hell of a doorguard."
Jayse looks down at his friend with a look of unbelieving concern, "That's the layman's translation? I'll just leave the understanding to you. Let me know when I need to punch something."
As he follows the small merchant and Ushari, he can't help but voice his questions as he takes in the sights. "Take the ride, huh? So this place runs on that clock? Meaning it shuffles through all the different planes on a scheduled cycle? And how do you know -- if you do decide to take the ride -- when you've come back around to your own door? Or… I mean… when the door you came in lines up with where you came in… or… you know what I mean."
Bit winks, "Sweet-talk a bartender and they'll show you the schedule or you can ask any of the regulars. We've pretty much got it memorized. If you are a particularly good customer, the Management might even re-target a door to where you need to go. Waiting on the cycle can take some time."
Bit nudges past the kobold and gets to the bar. He orders a round of drinks. The bartendress recognizes him and you recognize her - red hair, generous build, devilish grin. It's the waitress from the bar where you climbed up into the attic. She seems as surprised to see you as you are to see her. Her smile is genuine even towards Ushari, "Small world! On your tab, Master Bit?"
The gnome raises an eyebrow at your obvious familiarity, "Absolutely, Kat! You know these miscreants?"
The bartendress nods, "They were 'miscreanting' all over my bar. But they tipped well so it all evens out." She looks at Jofram, "Nice seeing you again."
Bit is about to ask a question when the fellow straddling the stool next to him draws his attention. You aren't sure if its the mane of jet black hair or something else. The merchant looks him over and then pokes him in the back. "Hey! That isn't your wife, it's a chair. Ride it right or get off."
The man turns on him and smiles. Bit grins back, "Orin! I thought it was you... either that or I was going to have to buy some insulted fellow a drink. What are you doing here? Not heading back to Absalom are you?"
The bartendress nods, "They were 'miscreanting' all over my bar. But they tipped well so it all evens out." She looks at Jofram, "Nice seeing you again."
"Technically, we were miscreanting in your ceiling crawl-space and roof. You ever get that rat problem fixed?" He can't help but smile.
She looks Jayse up and down, with approval. "As a matter of fact, I did. I think you gents scared off the big rats, leaving only the little ones for me and my broom."
Ushari chuckles, "Yeah, you could say we scared off those rats, but unfortunately those rats tend to multiply faster than they can be wiped out." She looks at Kat earnestly, "Kat, let me know if you have any more problems with any rat infestations, and I will be more than HAPPY to help you with that."
Jayse raises a pair of surprised eyebrows at Ushari, "You two have fun with that."
Bit is about to ask a question when the fellow straddling the stool next to him draws his attention. You aren't sure if its the mane of jet black hair or something else. The merchant looks him over and then pokes him in the back. "Hey! That isn't your wife, it's a chair. Ride it right or get off."
The man turns on him and smiles. Bit grins back, "Orin! I thought it was you... either that or I was going to have to buy some insulted fellow a drink. What are you doing here? Not heading back to Absalom are you?"
As the lithe man turns around a shimmer appears around him, denoting the presence (or in this case, dissipation) of magic. The result is that his jet black hair instantly becomes pure white.
Bit, good to see you! Sorry about this he says, gesturing to his hair. Force of habit. If I act insulted, will you buy me a drink too?
He smiles at Bit and gives him a hearty handshake, that turns into a hug. Keeping one arm around the gnome, he gestures to the others. Who are these--friends, or pawns you're moving around a chessboard? He continues his smile, but the question seems to have a hint of sincerity behind it as he looks over Bit's companions, holding his gaze on their dress and forms just a bit too long, as if sizing them up.
He releases the gnome and holds up his now-empty glass to the bartender, signaling for another drink before finally answering Bit's questions.
No Absalom for me. I'm just enjoying a drink and looking for something new. It's amazing, but even in a place like this, a guy with white hair can't seem to find honest work. But something tells me that you knew I'd be here, so best to just introduce me to your friends and tell me what you want to tell me. He speaks in a friendly manner, but seems slightly apprehensive, possibly as though he owes Bit a favor that might be about to be cashed in.
Bit, good to see you! Sorry about this he says, gesturing to his hair. Force of habit. If I act insulted, will you buy me a drink too?
"Only if it's a Radiant. But I'll buy you a decent drink just for nostalgia's sake."
Who are these--friends, or pawns you're moving around a chessboard? He continues his smile, but the question seems to have a hint of sincerity behind it as he looks over Bit's companions, holding his gaze on their dress and forms just a bit too long, as if sizing them up.
Bit goes for a wide-eyed innocent look. "Who, me? You know Chess isn't my game. As for these folks..." He looks at them as if trying to determine the answer, "We've done business in the past and now we're somewhat more than that - at least to me. You think I'd bring casual acquaintances here?"
I'm just enjoying a drink and looking for something new. It's amazing, but even in a place like this, a guy with white hair can't seem to find honest work. But something tells me that you knew I'd be here, so best to just introduce me to your friends and tell me what you want to tell me. He speaks in a friendly manner, but seems slightly apprehensive, possibly as though he owes Bit a favor that might be about to be cashed in.
Bit looks a tiny bit stung. "Happenstance brought me here, Orin, truly... but introductions first." He tightens up his waistcoat and smooths his jacket before saying formally, "Orin Vanderwhal of Golarion, may I introduce you to Ushari Velnokal, Jayse, Jofram, and Straehan... gentlemen and lady of Miir."
Formalities done, the merchant reverts to a less formal stance. "But since you mentioned wants... you might enjoy chatting with these folks. From what little I know, you all have something in common... uh... interesting histories. You know the old saying - Every sinner has a future and every saint has a past."
As Ushari turns her attention to the strange man, her eyes widen in surprise as she sees his hair turn a startling shade of white. He also notices her gaze lingering on his hair as if fascinated by it in some way...
Orin has to wonder if this woman...no...girl should even be here. He judged her age as no more than 18 years old. For a moment, he wondered whether she was a waitress or other employee...until he looked at her sky-blue eyes, where her age is truly mirrored. The look she returned was equally appraising and sizing up his own capabilities. Her figure was pleasant to look at: a slight, well built, pretty young girl, with sky blue eyes, very light blonde hair, braided in very short corn rows, and well tanned skin. Her dress was a pale blue color with streaks of glittery silver along the seams of the arms and waist. It also fit her body like a glove , although she was nowhere near as buxom as the barmaid Kat. He could see while she would never be truly ravishing..she was not unpleasant to look at. The fact she was well -armed as well also tended to bely her age, judging by the quality of the rapier and dagger on her waist.
Her voice he noticed was pitched low as he could tell she had a tendency to talk loudly for some reason. Still, pleasant to hear though and he could tell she is a good singer.
Straehan offers his hand to the white-maned stranger. "It's an honor. If you don't mind me asking, what sort of honest work are you looking for?"
The gnome's look is frank and open - coming from dark eyes set in a pale face framed by long blue-black hair. His goatee is neatly trimmed and equally dark. He's an odd looking gnome - taller than most and lacking the typical overly large eyes and expressive mouth. He looks more like a shrunk human than a gnome. Clearly, the gnomish portion of his parentage is limited to his size.
Straehan's taste in clothing lacks a gnomish flair as well. His robe is well made, simple, and not garish. It is a rich, deep, blue with intricate black stitching along the edges. He carries no weapons. In nearly all ways, his appearance is forgettable. The only thing that truly stands out about him are his boots. They are soft brown leather and clearly several sizes too big. Their tops flop over loosely accentuating the effect. He reminds Orin of a story-book character called Puss-in-Boots.
Formalities done, the merchant reverts to a less formal stance. "But since you mentioned wants... you might enjoy chatting with these folks. From what little I know, you all have something in common... uh... interesting histories. You know the old saying - Every sinner has a future and every saint...
Orin nods in agreement, and says softly, almost to himself:
And while we can't change what we were, we can change who we are, and who we will be.
As Ushari turns her attention to the strange man, her eyes widen in surprise as she sees his hair turn a startling shade of white. He also notices her gaze lingering on his hair as if fascinated by it in some way...
Orin has to wonder if this woman...no...girl should even be here. He judged her age as no more than 18 years old. For a moment, he wondered whether she was a waitress or other employee...until he looked at her sky-blue eyes, where her age is truly mirrored. The look she returned was equally appraising and sizing up his own capabilities. Her figure was pleasant to look at: a slight, well built, pretty young girl, with sky blue eyes, very light blonde hair, braided in very short corn rows, and well tanned skin. Her dress was a pale blue color with streaks of glittery silver along the seams of the arms and waist. It also fit her body like a glove , although she was nowhere near as buxom as the barmaid Kat. He could see while she would never be truly ravishing..she was not unpleasant to look at. The fact she was well -armed as well also tended to bely her age, judging by the quality of the rapier and dagger on her waist.
Her voice he noticed was pitched low as he could tell she had a tendency to talk loudly for some reason. Still, pleasant to hear though and he could tell she is a good singer.
Orin nods respectfully to Ushari, mentally noting the fine make of her weapons.
Straehan offers his hand to the white-maned stranger. "It's an honor. If you don't mind me asking, what sort of honest work are you looking for?"
The gnome's look is frank and open - coming from dark eyes set in a pale face framed by long blue-black hair. His goatee is neatly trimmed and equally dark. He's an odd looking gnome - taller than most and lacking the typical overly large eyes and expressive mouth. He looks more like a shrunk human than a gnome. Clearly, the gnomish portion of his parentage is limited to his size.
Straehan's taste in clothing lacks a gnomish flair as well. His robe is well made, simple, and not garish. It is a rich, deep, blue with intricate black stitching along the edges. He carries no weapons. In nearly all ways, his appearance is forgettable. The only thing that truly stands out about him are his boots. They are soft brown leather and clearly several sizes too big. Their tops flop over loosely accentuating the effect. He reminds Orin of a story-book character called Puss-in-Boots.
Work that doesn't feel like work--I don't want to grow roots yet. If I can visit someplace new and learn all that I can of that place, I'll consider the experience worthwhile. Surely a gnome can appreciate such a sentiment?
"Work that doesn't feel like work--I don't want to grow roots yet. If I can visit someplace new and learn all that I can of that place, I'll consider the experience worthwhile. Surely a gnome can appreciate such a sentiment?"
A remarkably bitter smile crosses Straehan's face. His tone is a shade south of neutral. "While I completely appreciate a quest for knowledge, I stand apart from my people. I couldn't say what they value."
He shakes off the black mood, "My apologies. You touched on an old wound."
"And while we can't change what we were, we can change who we are, and who we will be."
Bit is in complete agreement. "Just so."
As the white-haired man greets Bitiborium and nods at Ushari, Jayse takes a few moments to simply watch the man. He takes in how the man stands, moves, dresses, and -- most importantly -- his eyes.
When the small merchant turns to introduce Jayse, Jayse returns a polite smile as he steps forward, hand extended for a shake.
He's an athletic young man a few inches short of Orin's own height. His build is similar to Orin's -- thin and athletic. Orin notices that the extended hand -- the skin a natural pale color evenly sunned to a light tan -- has strange, swirling, multi-colored tattoos climbing up its back and disappearing into the sleeve of his bone-color, calf-length coat. The rest of his clothes are an interesting collection of well-made, off-white, but practical-fitting pieces interspersed with odd, eclectic elements. Instead of boots, a pair of black silk, tabby-toe slippers peek out from under his light-weight pants. His belt is a so-dark-brown-it-appears-black strip of leather ornamented with small silver studs in a single line. And snugly tied around his neck is a bright red scarf, the ends falling carelessly from the right side. And while the young man doesn't show any weapons, his quick, efficient movements coupled with a casual air of confidence leaves Orin the impression that the young man could handle himself in a tight spot.
Jayse is decent-looking in an every-guy sort of way. His quick, bright blue eyes and easy smile being framed by thick, unkempt hair that is a well-sunned brown.
"Nice to meet you, Orin. Any friend of Bitiborium's is… well… at least worth sharing a drink with, right?" He gives the short merchant a sideways grin, "Especially when he's buying. Who am I to argue with his choice of drinking buddies?"
Jayse grabs a stool between Orin and Ushari, tapping idly on the bar with his fingertips. "So, Orin… what is it that you do?"
Bit looks revolted and amused. "Talking shop? Blech! I think I see a Dryad I need to charm..." He turns to the bartendress, "Keep'em happy, Kat. I'll be back folks. Enjoy your chat." He swiftly moves off through the crowd.
Orin stands with good posture, tall and observant. He extends his hand to meet Jayse's and unsuccessfully tries to hide the wince from Jayse's crushing grip. At this distance Jayse can see a well-wrought chain shirt on Orin under his robe when the robe shifts. Orin also wears what appears to be an empty quiver. Given the earlier demonstration of disguising magic, Jayse gets the impression that this is yet another ruse.
Jayse then sees movement in one of the side pockets of the robe moments before a weasel pokes his head up to inspect the newcomers.
Everyone, meet Filch. Make sure the bird knows he's not a snack, Orin says with a friendly nod to Jofram.
He then turns back to Jayse.
Well, I used to be a teacher, but now I'm a student of sorts. I travel to different worlds, learning what I can of the people and places I find. I mean, if I'm going to educate people about things they've never seen, isn't it better if Ive seen them myself? And what about you--how long have you all been traveling together?
Jayse nods along to Orin's description of his travels, catching Kat's attention. "Can I get something that tastes good but will leave most of my faculties intact?"
He turns back to Orin, "Um… we actually just got thrown together a couple of months ago." That fact seems to actually sink in, and he turns to the others in surprise. "Is that right? It has to have been longer, right?" Regardless he turns to Orin, "Since then we've literally gone where the wind takes us. I'm trying to decide if it was fate or Biti himself who brought us in contact with him. So what do you teach?"
Jayse nods along to Orin's description of his travels, catching Kat's attention. "Can I get something that tastes good but will leave most of my faculties intact?"
He turns back to Orin, "Um… we actually just got thrown together a couple of months ago." That fact seems to actually sink in, and he turns to the others in surprise. "Is that right? It has to have been longer, right?" Regardless he turns to Orin, "Since then we've literally gone where the wind takes us. I'm trying to decide if it was fate or Biti himself who brought us in contact with him. So what do you teach?"
I was Chief Pedagogue in charge of Skill at Arms, Tactical Combat, and Honorable Conflict. The wealthy do love their titles, after all. Of course, a common man would say I taught rich young snobs how to hit each other with sticks. I suppose it's all a matter of perspective...
Ushari watches the white haired man closely, still fascinated by his long flowing hair. "So, you were teaching the fine art of warfare to these 'rich, young snobs', as you so delicately put it," She chimes in. "It sounds to me like that line of work did not agree with you. What made you decide to become a student...or a traveler, actually?"
Jofram nods to the newcomer. "Vaelos knows not to attack without cause - your rodent should not come to harm, unless it provokes. I hear they find trouble rather well."
The strange creature begins a new tune...
Ushari watches the white haired man closely, still fascinated by his long flowing hair. "So, you were teaching the fine art of warfare to these 'rich, young snobs', as you so delicately put it," She chimes in. "It sounds to me like that line of work did not agree with you. What made you decide to become a student...or a traveler, actually?"
The traveler looks a bit pained at the memory, but answers nonetheless.
Originally I left out of necessity. Two students...died under my supervision. I didn't want to face the noose, so I fled. Now I keep moving, not only to put the past behind me, but also to see what the world, or should I say 'worlds', have to offer.
He drinks deeply as Jofram speaks.
Jofram nods to the newcomer. "Vaelos knows not to attack without cause - your rodent should not come to harm, unless it provokes. I hear they find trouble rather well."
Thank you, but Filch is quite good at staying hidden. Isn't that right, Filch?
Orin speaks a chittering language directly to the weasel, who turns his head at the sound and watches his master with interest. The tiny creature, incredibly, appears to nod at Orin. Filch then faces Jofram and Vaelos and covers his face with his paws, looking like a child playing peek-a-boo.
He also has a better sense of humor than me, so there's that too, Orin says with a chuckle.
Straehan looks at Filch with interest. A mischievous smile creeps across his face. "I'd ask if I might stroke your weasel but I think the request could be misconstrued."
"Oh, no way... how could he possibly misconstrue that, Strae? I'm fairly certain Strae exists to get into trouble we all have to get out of. One of his greatest charms."
"Sorry to hear about the students, though." He lifts his glass, "To new beginnings, unknown futures, and mysterious bars."
Orin laughs at the jest, clearly used to such humor from his interactions with teenagers. He then speaks again to Filch, with the rise in inflection at the end hinting that it is a question. Filch nods and skitters across the bar, stretching out in front of Strae and looking up at him.
"Oh, no way... how could he possibly misconstrue that, Strae? I'm fairly certain Strae exists to get into trouble we all have to get out of. One of his greatest charms."
"Sorry to hear about the students, though." He lifts his glass, "To new beginnings, unknown futures, and mysterious bars."
The teacher raises his glass and cocks his head toward the monk before downing the rest of his drink.
I think that's enough of the hard stuff for now. A glass of water, please... he asks of the barmaid. Orin's eyes seem slightly glazed denoting the beginnings of drunkenness, but he keeps his seat steadily.
So, to where are you all headed? If it's any place interesting, I might just tag along if you're in need of a bossy, condescending misanthrope. He tries to sound sarcastic, but there is a hint that he at least partially believes that about himself.
Jayse elbows Ushari without making eye contact with her, bough he can't keep his grin off his face, "Nope, that spots unfortunately taken."
Dodging her retaliatory elbow, he continues with a laugh (only spilling a bit of his drink), "I don't actually know what we're doing after this. Far as I know, this is our destination for the evening, but you're welcome to hang with us. We tend to run into people who are in need of some martial schooling."
Jayse elbows Ushari without making eye contact with her, bough he can't keep his grin off his face, "Nope, that spots unfortunately taken."
Ushari mutters darkly, "I am NOT...a misanthrope!"
Straehan looks at Filch with interest. A mischievous smile creeps across his face. "I'd ask if I might stroke your weasel but I think the request could be misconstrued."
Ushar nearly chokes on her wine, with only an acrobatic feat preventing her from dropping her glass on the floor.
Ushari mutters darkly, "I am NOT...a misanthrope!"
"...unless misanthrope means 'acquirer of extremely hirsute boyfriends'."
Straehan scratches the ferret behind the ears. "It sounds like you are a man of letters, Orin. Is that so? Or are your interests mostly military?"
Kat delivers another round of drinks as well as five glasses of water with little tiny blocks of ice in them.
"Can I get something that tastes good but will leave most of my faculties intact?"
"Which faculties don't you mind losing?" She's wearing a smile but her question is sincere.
Ushari mutters darkly, "I am NOT...a misanthrope!""...unless misanthrope means 'acquirer of extremely hirsute boyfriends'."
Straehan scratches the ferret behind the ears. "It sounds like you are a man of letters, Orin. Is that so? Or are your interests mostly military?"
My interests are more in the actual experiences of the world than in reading what someone else has done. When I was a boy at the academy, my parents wanted nothing more than for me to be a great scholar or wizard. They made me recite long passages and solve complex puzzles, pitting me against other students in tests of knowledge and intelligence.
He shrugs. I have to admit that it was fun besting my rivals. Isn't it always nice to feel respected? But I quickly noticed that the smartest students in the classroom could be very easily bullied in the halls by the dullest of their peers. For all of their knowledge, they faltered when even a hint of danger was present. I didn't want that to be me. So I paid attention to others in the practice yard. I wanted to put my intellectual capacity into a more martial pursuit. And do you know what I discovered?
He hesitates a moment, but it's clear he is going to continue whether he gets an affirmative response or not.
The "martial" part of combat is the easiest to learn, for even the slowest dullard can practice enough to commit sword strokes to muscle memory. What sets great fighters apart from good, though, is the ability to predict what movements their opponent will make next. Everyone's movements in battle follow a pattern. It stands to reason that whoever has the greatest capacity to see patterns in others while making one's own pattern as complicated and unpredictable as possible has the upper hand in any contest. My memory is very strong, but more important than that is my ability to access my memories quickly and act on them even in stressful situations. This is what makes me victorious in the battles I fight. I tried to convey this to my students, and had mixed results. People always say that 'knowledge is power', but when presented with a practical application of such, they still shy away, instead reaching for the biggest sword or axe. Anyway, I'm not sure I answered your question, but if I speak much longer without taking a breath you'll probably think I'm rude. So there you have it.
MAP: Crossroads (Closer)
Straehan seems wistful regarding the white-haired man's answer. "I agree that knowledge without some practical application is pointless... nevertheless, I was kind of hoping that you had something of an academic bent. I think a glass of Port pairs well with a chat on planar construction." He makes a small gesture encompassing Crossroads. "Just considering how this place exists and functions is a wonder... at least to me."
"I don't actually know what we're doing after this. Far as I know, this is our destination for the evening, but you're welcome to hang with us."
Seeing that Jayse finds something companionable about the man to make that offer, or perhaps that Jayse suspects this meeting bore as little 'chance' as their other dealings with Bitiborium, Straehan opts to expand on the monk's response. "Well, Jayse, you were planning on playing cat-and-mouse with Kilchrist at midnight. Despite our general lack of intent, Master Orin, our adventures often become deadly and trouble does seems to dog our footsteps." The black-haired gnome glances around the bar. His eyes fall on the Horned Devil as it defeats yet another contender - a Giant - by slamming its arm down so decisively the huge man is flipped ass over tea-kettle. The devil roars with laughter. Concern crosses Straehan's face briefly. "Hopefully, trouble doesn't catch us here."
Straehan seems wistful regarding the white-haired man's answer. "I agree that knowledge without some practical application is pointless... nevertheless, I was kind of hoping that you had something of an academic bent. I think a glass of Port pairs well with a chat on planar construction." He makes a small gesture encompassing Crossroads. "Just considering how this place exists and functions is a wonder... at least to me."
"I don't actually know what we're doing after this. Far as I know, this is our destination for the evening, but you're welcome to hang with us."Seeing that Jayse finds something companionable about the man to make that offer, or perhaps that Jayse suspects this meeting bore as little 'chance' as their other dealings with Bitiborium, Straehan opts to expand on the monk's response. "Well, Jayse, you were planning on playing cat-and-mouse with Kilchrist at midnight. Despite our general lack of intent, Master Orin, our adventures often become deadly and trouble does seems to dog our footsteps." The black-haired gnome glances around the bar. His eyes fall on the Horned Devil as it defeats yet another contender - a Giant - by slamming its arm down so decisively the huge man is flipped ass over tea-kettle. The devil roars with laughter. Concern crosses Straehan's face briefly. "Hopefully, trouble doesn't catch us here."
Well, if trouble is going to find us tonight, it's probably better if it's inside here rather than outside. As long as we're not the aggressors, and we can stay alive for a minute or so, the bouncers should take care of the rest.
He pats the gnome on the back attempting to be reassuring.
"An optimist, how refreshing." Strae regards Orin, "It sounds like you know something about the staff here. Have you been here often?"
"Which faculties don't you mind losing?" She's wearing a smile but her question is sincere.
Jayse considers with a dubious look, "Um.. honestly, I just want to try something new, but I don't really want to be fuzzy-minded or clumsy-limbed, if that makes any sense."
He turns back to the conversation, listening to Orin's perspective on the intersection of the intellectual and the martial. So close and yet so far from the teachings of the Calm.
"Anyway, I'm not sure I answered your question, but if I speak much longer without taking a breath you'll probably think I'm rude. So there you have it."
"Well, it was a good answer, so maybe Straehan just asked the wrong question?" He looks over at Strae, "Wait.. don't blind-dust me, bro."
"Well, Jayse, you were planning on playing cat-and-mouse with Kilchrist at midnight. Despite our general lack of intent, Master Orin, our adventures often become deadly and trouble does seems to dog our footsteps."
"I am. I guess I thought we were talking about what we were doing here in Crossroads. Did Bitiborium have a plan or proposition for us? Or is he just being nice. It's so hard to tell sometimes." After a drink, he swirls the ice in the bottom of the glass, "Orin, you have any experience in roof-top cat-and-mouse games?"
Jayse considers with a dubious look, "Um.. honestly, I just want to try something new, but I don't really want to be fuzzy-minded or clumsy-limbed, if that makes any sense."
Kat nods and moves to the other side of the circular bar, a sound of grinding is heard. She returns and slides a glass over to Jayse filled with what looks like the results of folding a sunset into a glass of angst.
Before he can more than touch the glass, she barks, "Wait!" She decorates the edge of the glass with a slice of lime. "OK. Now it's ready."
Jayse picks up the glass, lightly swirling it to try to activate its ingredients before giving it a slow sniff. "Here's to hoping there's more sunset than angst…"
Gulp
It's a pleasant tasting, fruity drink and, as advertised, it doesn't impair Jayse's abilities a bit... particularly when it touches off a supernova in the monk's stomach which travels outward until he feels light is shooting out his eyes, fingertips, and toes. Then, like a thunderstrike, it is gone. Jayse is left feeling hyper-alert and everyone around him seems to have sharply-defined auras, as if an artist snuck through the room and painted an outline around every living creature. On his tongue, a hint of lime remains.
Ushari, while not a tee-totaler by any stretch of the imagination, knew her limitations. Waving off the unspoken offer to try the mixed drink, she instead watches the monk like a hawk, all the while mentally reviewing her remaining divine spells.
I hope this does not lead to MORE trouble...
"Well, it was a good answer, so maybe Straehan just asked the wrong question?" He looks over at Strae, "Wait.. don't blind-dust me, bro."
Straehan mouths wrong and question as if the two words should never appear jointly in any sentence with his name. He almost misses the Glitterdust reference. "Oh, I see, it's Pick-on-the-Pocket-Sorcerer day. Ya cut me, Jayse. I can hardly see through the tears... which could effect my aim with incendiary spells."