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Yes, please! Make it two dozen fresh, though. I put in quite a few hours in my workshop and I have quite the appetite. I'm working on a new design. I am having terrible trouble with how to attach the various limbs to the torso. Somehow my designs do not fit together or there is two much energy causing the system to overheat and break up.
SQUA-AWK!
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A woman carrying a HUGE rifle on her shoulder comes in, clearly having travelled far as she dusts off her tricorne had and sets the massive numerian device against the bar. She pulled a marble platter from the pack she dropped by it.
"Master Serpico, I have travelled far today, cutting leagues from my journey by taking a two league shortcut thru a desert in the tapestry. Terrible dusty weather, gnoll bandits, all the fun of home without waste mutants." She said cheerfully as she laid an odd gland on the marble cutting and a vial of boiling black blood. "Luckily this scorpion wasn't as big as a wagon, which means this little gland is just right.. now the reason I'm here is you have the last bottle of 30 year old Westcrown Honey whiskey." She said as she laid out the goods and then a stack of 3 platinum pieces. "I'll need that bottle, a bottle of strawberry brandy and a crystal decanter, not metal. This dissolves or corrodes most metals."
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Kyrie! Westcrown Honey Whiskey, you say? Ya, I just might have what you are looking for in this here bar. I am even willing to part with said bottle on account I know a guy who has a steady supply of the sweet fire. Now, as for the strawberry concoction, you should be glad that Mr. Rockhard is a regular at teh Boar 'n Oyster.
Dicky wipes his hands on his apron after sliding a plate of oysters towards Kyrie.
Hey, Dix! Watch the bar! I need to go get the bottle for Ms. Ebonblade here!
Dicky walks to the open of the bar where a clever door blends into the Sarenrae mosaic. Dicky reappears carrying three bottles. One has a thick coating of dust. The other two, not so much. A fourth bottle, empty, sits in a pocket of his apron.
Dicky slides the dust gray bottle towards Kyrie. He emits a small sigh, akin to a parent watching their adult child leave the home. Setting down the other two bottles, one a deep red color and the other a golden yellow with hints of blood orange, Dicky pulls the empty bottle from his apron.
A'ight, this here is the straight dope. I do recommend you have a small pull from the bottle before doing it is whatyever you need to do. It is that good. This here is yer strawberry brandy. I work with a supplier over in the petals to add a few things to enhance the liqueur: there is a bit of 20 year old Wispil Balsamic added. I find it cuts down on the sweetness, real nice on a hot summer night, if you know what I mean. Also, here is yer glass decanter. I pulled out a leaded glass variety, figuring you could use it. I also added a a few protective runes on the sides, couldn't hurt ya know, thinking whatever you needed this here for was of a not nice sort of thing. You like the oysters? I just got those in this morning. Bee-yoo-ti-ful Obari variety that I think will need to be a staple here. So good. You need anything else Ms. Ebonblade?
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Denbora utters a few words as he moves his hand over the remaining oysters. Seconds later, his oysters look just as they did before the rude human defiled the plates
Kyrie, my dear! That is one impressive firearm you have. Might you be a dear and allow one such as me to take a look at it? I am fascinated by such things!
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Denbora, my friend, you touch Piecemaker and I might have to get upset.No one gets to play with her till the Ten let's me fire it again at the Conclave. Kyrie said as she worked what could be called a demonic alchemist lab on the plate. She unstoppered each bottle and smiled, as usual the best quality booze to be had. I got the range designed. Two hundred foot backstop lined with six two-inch adamantine plates. That should hold.
Mmm.. and good that I brought my sauce for these. She said as she added a dash out of the red bottle she pulled from her bag and shook it over the oysters and paused to shuck down three. Grand as usual Dicky, though you need to up your sauce game The alchemist said as she shook the bottle of her own sauce, labeled flaming manticore.
This Dicky, is a tricky one, one vial of black dragon's blood, the stinger gland of an emperor scorpion, the balsamic will actually work well with this She poured the blood in, then added one scary thing after another along with the bottles she paired Dicky for. The mixture seethed and bubbled as she gently stirred it with a glass rod in the glass. There was a faint haze around the glass before she added the gland and a small vital of liquid ice. The mixture bubbled and the haze formed into a cloud as she smiled at sight of the runes glowing. As usual the right touch.. I like it. The Lucky Drunk would enjoy this.
She took it in hand and slugged it down, sitting down on the stool ad she upended the glass and then blew a long smoke ring with a belch.
"Been wanting to try that recipe for YEARS. Totally worth running two days across the damn Mana Wastes, running across the desert in the tapestry to the only place that had the rest of the ingredients. She says holding the last dregs up for her review and quickly pouring it into a small alchemist's vial.
Master Denboara Azzar, I apologize but I tend to be a mite possessive of Piecemaker. I've been forbidden of firing her again in Absalon short of invasion. Care to try my hot sauce or can I buy you a drink?
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Peacemaker? Why, that is a right odd name for weapon. I know of a certain Lawman of Abadar that named his musket Vera. Now that is a curious name for a firearm as well. But, now that I think about it, maybe a female name is apropos. It is loud, spits fire and an awful aroma, and can kill you. I'm sorry, what was that? Why yes, I am single how did you know?
But back to yours, Ms Ebonblade. And what a curious name that is! Ebonblade! There must be a story behind that moniker! Tell me, was it due to striking down foes in the blackest night? Or was the blade black from all the blood it spilled? OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH!
Dicky! Razor Clams! Now!
Denbora is almost vibrating with excitement. He grabs his mug with both hands, tips it back and finishes what was left. Pounding down the mug, a sound akin to a large animal erupts from his gullet, finished with a resounding, "AAHH!"
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Razor clams? Sure thing Denbora!
Dicky turns to the flat top, placing a pan on the surface. Practiced precision has several cloves of garlic minced along with a medium shallot. Dicky splats down a healthy pat of butter in the steaming pan.
Soon, a warm nutty aroma fills the Boar 'n Oysters. Dicky throws the garlic and shallot into the pan, giving it a good shake or three to coat the vegetables in butter. Shaking the pan every so often, Dicky grabs the salt bowl and sprinkles a healthy amount around the pan. While the garlic and shallot sweat, Dicky makes short work of cleaning the clams. Once they are to his satisfaction, into the pan they go.
A loud hiss fills the bar. Dicky smiles as the aroma hits him square in the nose. Continuously moving the pan, soon the clams blossom. Dicky reaches for a bottle of white wine on a shelf over the flat top. Steam erupts from the pan when the wine makes contact. While the wine reduces, Dicky cuts two pieces of bread, dips each in a crock of olive oil, and throws them on the hot iron. He quickly flips each piece over to reveal a golden brown crust. Grabbing a shallow bowl, Dicky pours the razor clams and reduction into the bowl, setting the two pieces of bread on the wide lip. Finishing the bowl with fresh cracked pepper, Dicky slides it over the wide eyed gnome.
Here ya go!
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P.I.E.C.E not Peace. This is a tricky weapon. Found it in Numerian, I am the only person in my team who could use it. I'm forbidden to shoot it on the grounds of the Lodge here in town short of invasion. Took two shoots during the Convocation last summer. First shot left this pretty little trench along the north wall of six library rooms in a row. The second vaporized to Consortium agents. Pink cloud..and then clipped the edging of a rooftop a mile away. Needless to say, words were said. At length. At GREAT length. And volume.
She looked at the gnome with a smile. He was entirely too hyper but that was okay for now. She shucked down two more of her oysters.
Aye, all guns have names. I have Ol' Painless, my father's gun, brought to me by the man that introduced me to the society. Then there is my backup." A flick of her wrist reveals a pepperbox pistol "Named Diplomacy.. I've used Diplomacy in many a surprise situation. And there is the gun that Paracountess Drahleen gave me.
She pulled an ornately guided rifle from 'somewhere.' Two barrels of blued steel, with an elaborately carved woman with very little to cover her 'assets' with. The butt was made of exquisite Taldan darkwood and inlaid with a mix of brass and silver, covered in similar figures on it.
The Countess. Because like the person who gave me this gun, it's ostentatious and gaudy and makes a scene whenever she is brought out. As for the Ebonblade name, it's deep involved and I'm not entirely sure, my mother and father were pathfinders. They're name is on the Wall of names..and my father knew what it meant. She said as she dropped another platinum piece on the counter. Apple Jack, cold and strong please, Dicky.
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Dix' looks up with a grin at this latest request. "dragon hot or sign a waiver hot? "
The finely dressed cop steps behind the far counter, puts on his goggles and starts brew a wonderfully smelling concoction. The red steam coming off the beaker flows up throughthrough an apparent chimney built above the station.
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From the back of the establishment suddenly an extended and loud burp erupts, similar to that of a lion. What seems to be a bearded half-orc woman dressed in fine Varisian merchant's clothing thumps herself on the chest and gazes around sleepily with one eye. She is missing part of her skull, a metal plate shining where bone used to be. Half her face is burned badly, somehow giving her remaining yellow eye extra fierceness.
Whu- where am I? Oh gods, not Dicky's again!?
She stands up, almost falling over the chair she was sleeping in, obviously still intoxicated. She straightens her bosom and spits on the ground.
I swore I'd never come here again, *HIC*, not after what happened last time...
She mutters to herself, while stumbling to the exit. A stench of alcohol surrounds her and there are pieces of unknown origin in her beard.
My loyal pathfinders *HIC* call me! Dicksy, put dem oysters on my tab, please. Or send the bill to the decemvirate, they still owe me. Cya *HIC* around, dixie!
After a short while the sound of vomiting can be heard from outside.
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Sarenrae, watch over Carla Barrenspeak. She's good people. She's been coming here for a long time now, trying to drink away the pain and memories, and I feel I have not made the effort needed to provide salvation. Please forgive me. As always, "Carla" will make a donation to the temple tomorrow for the exact amount of her tab.
Hey! Denbora! get back here! You know she ain't some clockwork thingamajig.
Dix, don't forget to have him sign the waiver. I don't want a repeat of last week.
Ri'chard, baby, you put a spell on me every time I see you.
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Dicky's eyes lock with Ri'chards as his statement acknowledges acceptance of the Mindlink. He gets the equivalent of a ten minute download of the images, emotions, and relevant information with an up-close-and-personal viewing of a double murder crime scene. Blood is everywhere, and it's clear that the perp cut out the heart of his victims, which is shown in several up-close images. Even the smells of the scene assault Dicky's nose as he watches everything fly though his mind.
Thoughts? Richard says casually as she eats a few beer nuts.
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Hold on, Imma gonna need a stiff drink.
Dicky pours five fingers of whiskey into a mug.
Closing his eyes, Dicky scans the crime scene looking for anything out of the ordinary.
Ri'chard... the cuts are sloppy, fast.. not quite an amateur, but someone who does not do this sort of thing on the regular. Dicky turns his head from side to side. The walls of the alley. Did you notice the fresh paint? There is a smudge... like someone was leaning against the wall waiting... Dicky's right hand slides back and forth. The wounds... slim knives... not a dagger... there is only one cutting edge. Razor? A kitchen knife, maybe? Dicky begins to sniff the air, turning his head, trying to catch a breeze.... Ri'chard.. did you make notice of the faint smell of burnt lavender and orange? Don't ask me how I know, but there is House of Ill Repute, I think it is called Pleasures of the Sun, where bowls of this homemade scent are prevalent.
Dicky snaps out of his reverie
I would start there.
Dix' looks up with a grin at this latest request. "dragon hot or sign a waiver hot? "
The finely dressed cop steps behind the far counter, puts on his goggles and starts brew a wonderfully smelling concoction. The red steam coming off the beaker flows up through an apparent chimney built above the station.
sign a waiver hot if you would Akuma pulls a small vial from his backpack and adds it to a glass. He then floats the fizzing concoction over to Carla. here you go no donation necessary, just say a prayer to Sirrano next time you start drinking
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Thank you, mr..? I'll say a prayer to that guy next time I say prayers. I appreciate the gesture, not often people treat me like that without some... persuasion.
Carla gulps the concoction, pulls a funny face, throws the vial over her shoulder and burps. Then, she blinks twice, shrugs and walks back into the bar, sitting next to the tanking halfling.
Hells, why not? It's not like I've got something better to do. Dicksie! A round on me! Give me whatever he's having!
She points at Rowlan.
Put it on the decemvirate's tab, as usual. Now, how about a story to lift your spirits? Life as a venture captain in Nerosyan sure is full of adventure!
She says sarcastically, attempting to wink at Rïchard, then remembering she only has one eye.
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Ugh... should have known it would come to this. A halfling and a gnome. Whodathunkit...
Dicky lifts a medium keg off the stand. Rowland! Make yerself useful for once and grab the wood piece there!
The halfling moves with blinding speed; the prospect of more beer provides a moment of clarity. Dicky sets the keg down on the stand on a table in the middle of the room.
Here ya go, ya bastids!
Praise Sarenrae for this last month that I may show my fellow Pathfinders hospitality and compassion.
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The doors of the bar swing open, as a Varisian man in full plate staggers in. In his right hand is a remarkably beautiful tankard emblazoned with the markings of the Lucky Drunk. Strapped to his hip is a curious looking rapier made of a dull grey metal. Its pommel is not the usual ball or gem, but appears to be a bottle opener of sorts. A small monkey sits on his shoulder, with its own tankard in hand.
"Barkeep! Let us all celebrate the Drunken Hero with a round! It has been far too long since old stuffy Valsin has sent me out, and I am feeling adventurous!" The Varisian slaps a handful of coins onto the counter, without bothering to count. The monkey, however, is more mindful, and quickly snatches up the small diamond that got mixed in with the coinage.
"What's this? Oysters? Never thought those were fit for human consumption, though a half-orc I once knew would eat 'em like hotcakes. Or somethin' like that. Got any civilized food in here? I'll take some roast boar, if the name of your place means anything."
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Carla nods to Dicky. Then, at the sight of another customer ordering beer for the whole house, gives a smirk and a slow clap to Gunari.
And who might YOU be? Made yourself some fortune, have ya? Might I ask what mission the society has sent you on that it braught you such treasure? Wait, let me guess... you're one of those true adventurer types. Fame, fortune, as much booze as you can take... does Cayden buy you free drinks as well? Don't make me laugh.
She gulps down the last of the ale Dicky put in front of the halfling eagle knight and smashed a large bag of platinum pieces skittering over the bar.
Free drinks on me AND the decemvirate! Let's see who's standing after this! Hahaha!
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Finally, a gentleman in the house! And just as I was getting tired of always having low templars licking my boots. Of course you can, mr blue. Not that I and mister warrior here did not just buy the whole house two drinks, but I digress. What brings a handsome tiefling such as yourself to a place like this -no offence, Dicky- ...?
She eyes the man next to her with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity.
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None taken, Carla. Everyone is equal in yer eye.
Maximoff, I got that weird-ass gnome Miracle Maxwell and Cutter John working the pit. There is an aurochs and a hog out there been rotating for a good twelve hours. Should be ready real soon. Between the two 'o them, should be some mighty fine meats coming.
With a wink and a nod, Dicky slides two fingers of brown liquor to Gunari.
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Dix' hands off the special sauce to Dicky and passes the waiver to Akuma.
"I'd like to remind your friend here.." pointing to Carla "that excess public intoxication is a misdemeanor and you will end up in the tank for the night. We already got the local precinct busting our chops over Dicky's last professional courtesy...
A large fire pit constructed out of oyster shells sits smoking away. There are several cuts of meat absorbing the smoke. Lazy wisps float about while two gentlemen work the fire, sweat rolling down their unclad upper bodies.
Next to the fire pit stands what looks like a closet. A pipe runs between the pit and the closet.
Empty oyster barrels are in various states of being broken down. Logs of cedar, hickory, oak, cherry, and apple are stacked in sharp piles.
There are several empty bottles around and about.
Cutter John! How are those sausages looking?
Cutter John walks over to the closet. Smoke billows out, obscuring Cutter John as he walks in. Sausages of all sizes hang from hooks and bars. Turning a crank brings the latest batch of Okeno seasoned pork to the front.
Cutter John pricks the side of one with a small stiletto produced from somewhere. A small amount of liquid rolls down. He then reaches for the Spicy Chelaxian sausages, deep dark blood red in color. He squeezes one, testing firmness and finding it to his satisfaction he removes the line from its curing bar.
The Okenos need a bit more time, but the Chelish are ready.