"Oh...well...I could try. I was more inclined to have Josten here give it an attempt with his large, godly muscles. Droid is a term for any robot or automated machine with artificial intelligence where I come from. They usually have designation codes."
Regardless of suggesting Josten give it a try, she will stand and take hold of the quill with gloved hands. She is not gentle in her tugs. Some might consider them brutal were they on a living being. For all she can tell, droids don't experience pain like Windchime may. In the end, she can't get it out.
The construct's eyes sparkle with flecks of gold. "Oh, yes, I see. Yes, artificial intelligence. That was what I had. I'm afraid I wasn't gifted with much of it, so I forget these things. Anyways, I like being called Windchime nowadays. What is your designation code, Mistress?"
It shows no signs of discomfort as Britta struggles with the quill. If Windchime does feel pain, she expresses it very differently from fully organic beings.
She hops up to sit atop Eldlen's table, her motions as dainty and graceful as those of a ballerina, and slides the box over to him. "Pardon me, master," she says politely. "The behirian and dreadful cigars are two gold coins each, the Kyonin cigars are two silver coins each, and the rest are five copper coins. Please excuse me using your table."
"Kyonin!" Josten, sounding impressed. "Yes, miss. I'll take one."
The big red-haired man takes out two silver pieces from another pocket in his cloak and places them before the automaton."Being the son of a love goddess...," she almost can't say with a straight face, "...and the son of a drunken god, you should feel the effects quicker than most, I'd think."
Josten smirks as the officer tries to comprehend what the godling is. It's not like Josten goes out of his way to advertise his special upbringing. It always felt like bragging, especially with the mortal races. Listening to Aleksandros, he's reminded that not everyone is impressed with divine birthrights.
"And since you are likely into partying from the sounds of it, I hope we can do business in the future if you like the product."
The godling's mind wanders as he listens to the beautiful agent of law. "Ah, yes. Business."
"Oh, new regulars!" Windchime beams, half-doubled backwards in her pathetic efforts to disimpale herself. "It would be nice to have new regulars. So few decide to linger. Are you going to be staying here long?"
"It is my hope that I become a new regular. The World Serpent Inn is not always easy to find."
Not at all prepared for the shock of such a strange creature jumping on to his table, scattering his hat and the few coins he's laid there; Eldlen in one continuous motion, pushed himself out of his chair, lifted his wings and began to hover back and up while summoning both his revolvers.
Windchime stares at Eldlen, eyes shining a blue to match the mist.
Having regained his composure enough to join in the conversation, Eldlen chimes in, "She's known as Britta, Britta Karen," He pauses for a split second, "Pardon, Britta Karan." He nods towards the pretty red head, "An the big fella is Josten." Turning back toward the 'droid' he notices her eyes changing color. "A pleasure to meet ya Windchime, I'm Eldlen, but I reckon I ain't nobody's master, all right."
"Eldlen," Windchime repeats, eyes sparkling green. "Then I will use this designation code for you. It's much better."
Dropping the coins back on the table as he sits down, setting his hat beside them. He gestures towards the 'quill' in her back. "Once you all get that stick out of yer butt." he gestures towards the table, "we can talk about these coins here and those cigars."
"It's between my primary articulation gears, actually, Eldlen. But please, do not mind me. I'm sure it will come out when it is ready to. You may feel free to browse the cigars. That is why I am sitting on your table, after all."
"Kyonin!" Josten, sounding impressed. "Yes, miss. I'll take one."
The big red-haired man takes out two silver pieces from another pocket in his cloak and places them before the automaton.
"Oh, how wonderful, Master! The Kyonin cigars are of the green hue. I apologize; I cannot easily open the box for you in this state." Windchime is almost folded backwards. "But if you would be kind and courteous enough to place the relevant currency on the table, I will retrieve it as soon as I have removed this minor impediment."
"The World Serpent Inn is not always easy to find."
"Yes, I have heard this issue raised with Master Mitchifer in the past. For some reason he is not perturbed by the potential hit to our revenue stream. I am certain that he knows what is best."
"It is clearly not a droid from my galaxy," she thinks to herself. As Eldlen settles back in his chair, there is a smug smirk on her face. "Well, next time he'll expect the waitress. I will say, he is a bit jumpy."
Josten commits to becoming a customer, but she will wait to see his reaction to her chemistry. It is also true that she hasn't seen a familiar face except for the various servers since coming in. Some people show up and never return.
"True," she responds to Josten. Looking down at the stubborn quill, she asks Josten with pleading eyes, "Care to help a girl out?" Her eyes trail down to the quill that she is unable to remove. Certainly, she could surgically remove it, but it's probably not advised. A strong arm is all this droid needs.
To the droid, she comments:
"Windchime, you have a very unique composite porcelain-like surface. It's very pretty. Do you know why you were made this way?"
"Oh, thank you very much!" Windchime's eyes brighten with rosy sparks at the compliment, and her voice echoes with especially melodic harmonies. She sits upright on the edge of the table, hands clasped in her lap. "Your praise is also your answer, Mistress. I was designed by my wise creators to serve as both decoration and entertainment. As decoration, it was important that I match the rest of my creators' collection. Unfortunately, I do not match the Inn's aesthetic, but very few things do."
Its green eyes pulse slightly. "Then I grant you permission!"
"Miss Windchime, please allow me to assist you with your quill dilemma", The red-haired man asked the artifical being.
Not happy with the initial result, Josten carefully put his full attention to removing the quill.
"We seem to be the most recent to find this place. I have made few friends so far. Can I consider you one? What do you call yourself? I am Aleksandros." If her reaction is positive he extends his right arm as if to grip forearms and shake but quickly realises this will not suit a small creature like a fox and pulls the arm back awkwardly.
The fox's grin grows wider. "Silvertail," she responds, flicking her one silver-tipped tail as if in explanation. "A bit obvious, perhaps, but at the time I had only the vaguest idea of what a name was."
She glances back to the table with... well, all of *that* going on. "I must confess I'm curious about all the excitement back at the table we left. There does seem to be a certain amount of distress involved, though I'm not sure it's the type that would take quite your... level of force."
Silvertail trots on the air back over to Britta's now rather active table-space. "I see I was missing out on some excitement. How did, well, all of this," she points one tail at each of the four beings around or on the table, "End up here?"
"Oh, yes, Master, that would be very helpful!"
Windchime sits calmly on the edge of the table as Josten works. But as he at last wrenches the spine out of her back, her eyes briefly flicker, the lights going black. It gives a soft, keening sound as the spine comes out covered in a dark oil of some kind. The whirring of her gears quickens briefly, then quiets.
Barely visible through the hole, which lies between what would be her shoulder blades, is a network of finely-crafted clicking gears. Her dress has been torn both by the quill's entrance and egress, and cracks in the porcelain spiderweb out out from the place of impact.
After a moment, her eyes return to a faded blue. "Thank you," she chirps, her voice now slightly muted and tinny. "I think I have to go and clean up the pukwudgie now, unless there is anything else you..." She goes quiet as the many-tailed fox approaches, head tilting to the side.
"I hopped," she says politely, and hops down. Her motions are graceful, with her full articulation restored, but she's moving very gingerly now.
"Oh great...we shorted it out..." she considers as its eyes go dark. "Is it experiencing pain??" she considers as it is diminishing.
"Come here, Windchime."
It is more or less an order, and in her voice is a tone of a military commander, yet also with a soft edge to it.
Britta will look briefly to Silvertail.
"It appears this droid, Windchime, met with an unfortunate customer. One that has seemingly been killed. We are removing this spine from her back."
She nods a thanks to Josten and then will run her hands over the back of the robot. Strangely, there is dark energy seeping from the motion. It doesn't feel good, but then a moment later, the bot will begin to mend itself. When the oil stops dripping, she has to ask about the droid's well-being.
"Am I mistaken or did the spine hurt you?" She clarifies. "Typically we don't program droids to feel like that. That's generally for other kinds of bots."
Windchime chirps an affirmative and walks over to Britta, tilting its head curiously to the side. As the energy strikes it, her eyes flicker again, and there is a sound within like metal grinding against metal. Then something seems to snap into place, and the cracks in her porcelain vanish, her chassis restored to full working order.
Her eyes glow a vivid blue, and she positively twirls to face Britta. "Oh, thank you very much, Mistress!"
At the question, though, she pauses and seems to think for a moment. "I. No, Mistress, you have not made a mistake. My creators were brilliant and clever, but even they could not tamper with my internal core nearly so much as I am sure they would have liked. Perhaps they were unable to remove my ability to feel pain, or perhaps it was their wise decision to leave it in." Her eyes sparkle with flecks of fire. "After all, if I am to play beautiful music, surely I must understand the suffering bards sing of! That makes sense, doesn't it? I know my processors are limited."
"Windchime. I'm very sorry for hurting you. I hope you can forgive me." Josten pleaded with the automaton.
Windchime tilts her head at Josten. Her eyes flicker between different shades of green, from pine forest to deep ocean. "You removed the impediment, Master, so I cannot see any need for an apology, but I will accept it!"
"Oh, was your world very interesting, Eldlen?" Windchime goes back to the bar and reaches down behind it far enough that her feet briefly leave the ground and kick for balance. She returns with a mop. "It is always such a treat to learn of new ones, and I have never met anyone from the seventh green door before."
Silvertail narrows her eyes at the being called Windchime. There seems to be something... off about some of the things she says. All of the 'master' and 'mistress' and 'my creators were brilliant'... well, she can't help but wonder if it's fake.
But that's not really her problem. The children of gods here were. Not that she was uninterested in these other curious people.
She waves one of her tails, the one that ends in silvery rather than white fur, at Eldlen. "I'm Silvertail," she states. "As you might guess, wandering in here is only the latest of many odd experiences in my life."
She spreads her other three tails behind her. "So, Windchime, yes? You work here? How did that come about, if I might ask?"
She is quite curious about Josten apologizing to the droid. Such behavior she will have to get used to now that it seemingly has a personality upgrade as well as potentially some additional components that let it feel.
"After all, if I am to play beautiful music, surely I must understand the suffering bards sing of! That makes sense, doesn't it? I know my processors are limited."
"I suppose so. That is not normal in droids where I come from. They are dull, grey or black in design, and are made of the cheapest of materials. You know, it seems that a few at this table are skilled in music. I am not, but you may be able to relate with them," she states with half interest. She tried once with an Ommni Box and found it so difficult she just gave up trying to play music.
"Eldlen," she gestures as he mentions sending what she assumes is 'credits' back home, "You know, from time to time, there are jobs here. In fact, I've noticed this inn, at times, can be quite the commercial hub. I don't think there's a better place in the...planes that could make you more money." She furthers this example by nodding to Josten, who just paid for a good portion of whatever she needs for the week.
She also wishes to hear how and why Windchime came to work here.
Looking from the fox to the 'droid' Eldlen paused, pretending to look for someplace to knock the ashes off of his cigar, while he considered Windchime's question. He wasn't really sure what she meant by interesting. If someone was curious everything was interesting. Thinking about it a little more, he eventually made a show of knocking the ashes in his hand and dumping them in his overturned hat. Looking back at Windchime, he responded, "I reckon it depends on what you call interesting." He gives a cheeky smile, "It certainly wasn't interesting enough to stay, considering the bounty on my head."
'The seventh green door' is that what it's called?' He shrugs "I'm not from the grand gardenland, I just found myself passin' through. I reckon after a little sport, I should be heading back that way."
Windchime seems to consider all this. "How interesting! Then I hope your visit is to your satisfaction so far. Have you been traveling long?"
She spreads her other three tails behind her. "So, Windchime, yes? You work here? How did that come about, if I might ask?"
Windchime is starting toward the fifth red hall when she hears her 'designation code'. She turns back, cocking her head. "Yes, I am a barmaid of the World Serpent Inn! It came about because I asked Master Mitchifer, 'Master Mitchifer, might I be a barmaid of the World Serpent Inn?'" Its green eyes tinge orange like autumn leaves. "How did you come here, Mistress, if my inquisitiveness is not rude?"
"I suppose so. That is not normal in droids where I come from. They are dull, grey or black in design, and are made of the cheapest of materials."
"Oh, well, I am sure that those droids were designed with a wise and clear purpose of their own, right, Mistress? Most warforged are designed to be quite sturdy and resilient, with wood and metal and stone. But they were designed for a different purpose than I."
The 'warforged' stops again, midstride. Her eyes flash blue. "Oh! Eldlen, I believe I can help you. You can speak to Master Mitchifer and ask to see the Book of Jobs. He will connect you with a client."
"Not rude at all, and I don't particularly mind rude, seeing as foxes don't precisely have manners," Silvertail responds to Windchime, tails waving behind her. "I just happened across a most... curious scent, while I was out and about doing my usual thing. I found a door, which was strange because it was in the side of a hill rather than a building, which of course only piqued my curiosity further. So I went through and found myself here."
She waves two of her tails to indicate the common room. "It's such an interesting place that I've spent several days here now."
The vixen looks over the little group as talk turns to jobs. This might be a way to get what she wants...
"There wouldn't be group jobs in that book, would there? I could use a bit more spending money myself, and I would think a group would earn better coin than a single person--not to mention I'm not best suited to working alone given my size. Perhaps some of us might consider trying a job together?" She waves her tails at all four non-employees at the table, but her gaze lingers on Aleksander and Josten.
"Sounds like fun", Josten smiles.
The big red-haired man walked over to the barkeep and asked, Master Mitchifer, I understand you have a book of jobs that need doing for the inn." Nodding back to the others, Josten continues. "What kind of jobs do you have for a rag-tag group of adventurers? Aleksandros, is of course, invited to join us."
"Why, certainly, Mistress!" the warforged chirps. "You may accept a Job as an individual, or as part of a unit. If Eldlen so desires, I can look into arranging a courier, as well."
It listened with what appeared to be keen interest to Silvertail's account, eyes shifting to green briefly before returning to a dusty blue hue. Now she turns, twirling the mop as a baton, and curtsies to the group. "Now, please excuse me, but I must dispose of a dead fairy before it stains the floors."
She turns and half-walks, half-dances off into the azure mist.
Britta hasn't even volunteered to join before Josten rushes over to ask Mitchifer about the jobs. There is a hesitant sigh that comes from her, but then she relents and looks to her hands that now rest in her lap. What type of job would it be this time? Something would likely die. Death does seem to follow her around everywhere she goes.
"This place is mysterious," she states looking up as Windchime walks away. "For example...I've been here a couple or a few weeks...I can't keep track in here, but I've never seen Silvertail. The mist...or fog...whatever, hides a lot. I think it also changes things beyond our view. Then the servers are interesting, and at the center is Mitchifer. Any jobs we get from him could be as strange and as varied as this place. I just hope you are all capable of fighting, capable of enduring strange things, and/or ready to see the unknown."
Aleksandros had followed Silvertail as she floated through the room to the other newcomers. Having few contacts and wanting to make more, it could not hurt to make connections with these ones who were probably in the same position as him. Talks of jobs had him thoughtful. That would certainly be a way for him to build his name. He waits to see what information Josten comes back with.
"Lady soldier. I assume you can fight. How many years have you served? Did you have rank?" He asked Britta. Her clothing was strange to him but 'military' was at least something he recognised in it. This might not go well if a soldier decided to take charge and start giving orders.
"Aside from being an alchemist, yes, I can and do fight well. And my name is Officer Britta Karan," she introduces herself. [b]"One could say I technically hold the rank of a "Dillon"..." There is a small indication on her plate armor piece where above her right breast that has strange symbols on a grey background. She points to it, but it is far smaller than most military positions would normally display, as if concealing her rank unless she was close to someone. "...however, it is not recognized by most. One could say I was part of a covert unit with a singular purpose and not part of the 'Order' entirely. I would have to present my full identification and biometrics in order to fully be capable of giving orders to subordinates." She tenses a little as she gives her background, as one would who is used to secrecy. "As for how long I've served...you could say almost my whole life. Some are taken as children to serve in the forces of the First Order, but some, like me, were given by our parents for elite training. To put it into a way you can understand, if at the top is an Emperor or Leader, below him is his General. Under him are his trusted Majors who enact his will. I serve one of these."
She looks him over.
"You appear quite strong. Is this through devotion to your physical exercise or is this inherent in your race?"
"As for how long I've served...you could say almost my whole life. Some are taken as children to serve in the forces of the First Order, but some, like me, were given by our parents for elite training. To put it into a way you can understand, if at the top is an Emperor or Leader, below him is his General. Under him are his trusted Majors who enact his will. I serve one of these."
He nods as if understanding. "There is a city-state in my mother's homelands that I have heard of that also has this practice. From childhood boys are trained to be soldiers." He didn't sound very impressed by it. Nevertheless, "If there is danger to the job that one returns with, it will be a good thing to have you there."
"You appear quite strong. Is this through devotion to your physical exercise or is this inherent in your race?"
"Truthfully it is both. Through my daily rituals I seek to hone myself into the best version possible. But it is the blood of my father that has gifted me a greater share of strength than my mother's people. Though I have been exiled, I am an Olympian, from the city of the gods, the gate to which is atop Mount Olympus. One day I shall return." How and in what manner is yet to be determined.
"This place is mysterious," she states looking up as Windchime walks away. "For example...I've been here a couple or a few weeks...I can't keep track in here, but I've never seen Silvertail. The mist...or fog...whatever, hides a lot. I think it also changes things beyond our view. Then the servers are interesting, and at the center is Mitchifer. Any jobs we get from him could be as strange and as varied as this place. I just hope you are all capable of fighting, capable of enduring strange things, and/or ready to see the unknown."
"It certainly is curious," Silvertail agrees. "I've come to suspect that the exact dimensions of this 'inn' are somewhat flexible, as well. Having some spatial tricks of my own, I can't imagine it would be difficult for something on this... scale, shall I say, to do something like that."
"As for capabilities? I've lived for over a century. And not by hiding away in a hole. I may not be quite so capable as a god's child, but my magic can heal, harm, and confuse... as well as a few other things."
She waves her silver-tipped tail in a circle, and suddenly a money pouch is tied around its end. Another wave and it disappears. "It's useful to be able to store things magically when I don't have hands, for example."
"We saw the walls repair themselves earlier when Eldlen threw a knife at them. So that is also something that is going on." she replies to Silvertail.
Looking to Alexandros, she nods in thanks of his compliment of desiring to have her there on this potential job. It feels good to be of note to someone, and it seems there is some connection to her childhood and something he knows of. She wonders what they went through.
"So you live in a place on top of a mountain. Sounds interesting...and cold."
Smiling, Mitchifer ducks behind the bar, and heaves the massive Book of Jobs out. Four feet tall and half that wide, the tome has a shimmering emerald green snakeskin cover binding the numerous yellowed pages inside. It makes a resounding thud when he places it on the counter. "There are many countless jobs to be found within, more than enough for a 'rag-tag group of adventurers!' In fact, those are usually who partake of the Book." He says with a warm laugh. Indeed as you first open the book, you see a running 'score sheet' of sorts that is obviously a tally of completed jobs by equally obvious groups of adventurers.
"You could also ask the Starwind sisters if they need any help. They have some jobs listed in the tome, but they're often have other tasks that require assistance. Or you could try to find their cousin Avyanna, who has a residence deep in the Grand Gardenland. She's a powerful druidess, and could likely use some help as well."
His smiles grows even brighter suddenly, and he waves at somebody coming into the Common Room. "Ah, there's the eldest Starwind now, Morriana."
The woman Mitchifer introduces as Morriana is one of the most stunningly gorgeous women Josten has ever laid eyes on. Possessing an unearthly, empyreal beauty, she has fiery red hair much like his own, deep purple eyes, and a slight greenish tinge to her skin. Her horns reveal some sort of planar lineage, though be it Faerie, Infernal, or Abyssal, the bard does not know. She walks with the confidence and grace of a lady of the courts. Her outfit, however, is a bit more in line with an adventurer's though it obviously of high quality, and seems like it was chosen for both comfort and utility. All in all, Morriana might only be rivaled in her otherworldly beauty by Josten's own mother, Shelyn.
Josten eyes widen slightly to see the striking woman. "Thank you, Mitchifer."
The tall, red-haired man stops a respectable distance from Morriana.
"Pardon me, miss. Mitchifer directed me to see you. He said you had some job opportunities available for adventurers. And I, and my new friends are looking for some work."
"So you live in a place on top of a mountain. Sounds interesting...and cold."
"Olympus itself is not on the mountain. Only the entrance to the realm. So it is not cold as you think but forever pleasant like springtime. There is much abundance there and none have want. It is an incredibly beautiful and perfect land. You could fly as fast as the eagle for weeks and not find the realms end. I know not if it has one for I rarely left the city and never ventured far. None were permitted, kept close with stories of monsters and witches and ancient creations of the Titans. What might be true I don't know. There is much I suspect the gods hide but none want to lose their place as I did and nothing changes. Focus is shifted to the mortal lands of my mother. Much to her and her people's misfortune."
He speaks with praise and love for his former home and regret tinges his voice likely due to the fact of his current exile. He does not seem to identify with his mother's people, considering himself only Olympian. Perhaps this is why he is here and not there. Searching for more, ilcontent to live among normal humans.
A new face comes into view and his eyes gravitate towards it. An understandable reaction to such beauty. The look on his face is not appreciative but cautious.
It is confusing to her to hear about Olympus. The entrance is on a mountain but it is not on a mountain? So, perhaps Olympus leads to a vast underground cavern? Surely such things have been discovered on various worlds. She's never been to them. An alternative thought would be something like a space station whose base lies on a mountain as sort of a space elevator, but instead of leading into the vastness of space, it reaches up into the upper atmosphere? Whatever the case, she is confused and it shows on her face as she tries to rally all brain cells to conceptualize what the heck Aleksandros is talking about.
"Some of the words you use make little sense to me, like 'Titans'. I get the feeling these are very large, bad things. I understand witches. There is an old wives tale about the Witches of Dathomir, but if they did exist, they've all been wiped out by now from past wars. Users of magic. Some say they were users of the Force. In fact, I was cursed at and even called a witch once. That was his last words..." she curiously takes a sip of her ale at that moment as if to drive home not to call her that. She sighs. "So let me get this straight. You and your people are immortal? You don't die? You really are children of what people call, 'gods?'" She gestures also to Josten.
She then looks to Eldlen and Silvertail for support.
"You aren't like them too, are you?"
Silvertail barks a laugh. "Hardly. How could I inherit so much as a drop of divine blood? What sort of deity would stoop so low? After all, they care not for foxes."
With a blasting sound and fire stopped at the door a tall, slender man with plain clothes and an almost black wood staff in hand stumbles into the room. Facing the door he curses at someone, "Nalfeshnee, when will you learn. Your feeble attacks...." As the blast of flames clear and the view apparently isn't what he expects the man slowly turns, looking around the area at what he could see.
"What is this? I was crossing a meadow approaching Falcon's Hollow. How in the world did I get here? And where is 'here'?"
He strolls around, oddly not looking concerned about the strangeness but rather curious about everything. "This appears to be an inn. Who is in charge? Do I ask where to be seated? I have a feeling that I could use an ale to sip while I study this place." Seeing a few races that he thinks he recognizes, Drow, Human, Kitsune, he strolls over to the strange gathering. "Excuse me. Could any of you answer a question? Like where I am? This doesn't look like any inn on Golarian that I've been in. I can't say that I've been in all of them, but I have seen quite a few. What's with the mist? How big is this place? And who do I speak with to get an ale, and perhaps a light meal?"
Finally noticing the bar in the center of the room he turns, "Oh, I'm sorry to intrude. My eyes are adjusting to the lower light and I didn't see that. Foolish of me I guess. Bartender? Can I get an ale? Or perhaps a chocolate stout? Not too bitter though please."
Windchime emerges from her hallway half-covered in blood, though none has reached her now-mended dress. "The dead pukwudgie has been removed from the..."
The pale automaton turns, bright blue eyes flashing briefly as she registers Zeran's arrival. She seems briefly at a loss for words, but she finds them quickly. She's a professional, after all. "Oh, how wonderful! Another visitor. Welcome, Master, to the World Serpent Inn, where you are free to stay as long as you wish."
As she speaks, she is using a wet dishtowel to polish furiously at her bloodstained porcelain plates. She takes care to never take her eyes off the customer, of course. "Will a chocolate stout be all for you? That will be five copper coins! I will note that food is complimentary as well, Master."
Zeran is.... slightly surprised by being addressed by a little metal golem? No. A construct. But an apparently intelligent one! Supposedly female judging by the dress? "Thank you ah.... Lady. But please, I'm nobody's Master. My name is Zeran Vigga. But for a lovely lady such as yourself pl;ease just call me Zeran."
He digs in a pouch and pulls out a silver coin. "I don't have any copper, but I've some other coins. Good coin from Absalom, trade capital of Golarian. I don't guess you'd know where that is though. I've read about other planes and other worlds. You say this is the World Serpent Inn. What world would this be on? And would I be safe exploring by walking out yonder door that I came through?" He pauses and realizes that he hadn't answered her question. "A chocolate stout to drink. I suppose I should sample a little bit a food too. Never drink on an empty stomach. Can I get a couple rye or oat rolls and some butter to spread on them? Don't need much more than that for now. Keep it simple and focus my mind on what isn't simple."
He grins and watches.... "Oh, And what is your name?"
Her eyes spark green. "Then I will call you Zeran, per your instruction." She looks down at the silver coin, head tilting sharply to the side. "This is the place between worlds. You can come and go as you please, but as for safety, I would not presume to know, as I have not left the World Serpent Inn in. Some time." Windchime takes the coin and daintily places five copper coins in Zeran's hand. "I like to focus my mind on what is simple."
She twirls to move to the bar. "I will fetch these things for you! But my designation code I can give now: I am Windchime. It is nice to meet you, Zeran."
The young lady is about to answer Josten when she overhears Aleksandros mention Olympus and the gods. She practically makes a beeline to him, brushing past the other godling. "You lived among the gods?!? I'm a priestess of Heckate, and my ancient ancestor was her high priestess. Tell me, have you met the Lady of the Night?!?" She asks hurriedly, clearly too overcome with excitement for proper manners and introductions.
"So let me get this straight. You and your people are immortal? You don't die? You really are children of what people call, 'gods?'" She gestures also to Josten.
"I am not immortal. That is different. Some are given it. Some achieve it on their own. Perhaps I will someday. My divine heritage gives me a higher chance than most. But that is just a gift. Some squander it. I will not be great because someone else made me that way. It will be my efforts only that will..."
Aleksandros took a half step back, surprised at the sudden fervent questions from Morriana. He looked uncomfortable, the first time you've ever seen him so. "Well uh. I mean... I have seen her. On occasion. I don't know if you would say met. She hasn't spoken to me. There's not much I can tell you." Where before there was nothing but confidence now Aleksandros seems cautious.
Britta takes in stock the answers of those at her table. The Godlings were just as strange as the rest of them.
"So special, but not super special, got it."
She then winks to Alexandros in a playful way to show she's just kidding. When there is a sudden sound erupting behind her at a doorway and a flash of flame, she turns. There before her is the curling smoke pushing aside the blue fog as the door closes, and faceplanted against it, a strange man, dressed (from what she can understand) as an Outer Rim trader. She watches briefly as he seems to awkwardly become aware of the room. She can't help but chuckle at his antics and looks briefly to the others in mirth. It reminds her of her entrance. Her bright smile follows him as he begins asking questions but not lingering for the answers. She then looks ahead to the bar where he is heading.
It is then that she takes stock that Morriana has rushed across from the bar to come over after overhearing their conversation. The brainy rat has more manners. Maybe this topic is important to the woman?
As far as she can tell, Morriana is talking nonsense. Her excitement is appealing, but the woman is speaking in references that even Alexandros seems to not understand, at least Britta thinks. That all comes to an end when he answers.
"Oh...I guess I'm the only one who didn't get it. What is she so excited about anyways? Hrmmm Frustrating! Meh..."
She looks back to Zeran as he is intercepted by Windchime.
"She certainly gets around. With blood on her no less."
The furiously scrubbing bot will suddenly find her porcelain surface smooth and clean, all from a handwave coming from Britta. To distract Windchime and conceal it was her doing it, she looks to Eldlen and Silvertail and asks, "Does anyone feel up for a game of cards or dice? Pazaak? Kiughfids?" If interested, she'd explain the games.
"Oh!" Windchime looks down at itself, finding its form suddenly pristine. She slumps in relief and sets the rag down.