inherit
15
0
Nov 11, 2015 15:06:04 GMT
1
emorichey
6
August 2015
emorichey
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Post by emorichey on Aug 18, 2015 23:39:12 GMT
If you came back from the dead and rocked up in some fuckin enchanted wonderland, you'd be a little bit outta sorts, yeah? WeWhat you prolly wouldn't do, is make a beeline for the nearest alehouse. Cornelius did exactly that though as he stalked through the town and followed his withered nose straight after the smell of hops.
The Inn was actually pretty nice, low-set timber beams framed a dark but homely bar area. Little tables were dotted around a cleanly swept oak floor and nearer the windows were plusher seating areas. Through a square door was a dining room and beyond that a Games Room with a cork dartboard, billiard table and other tables where patrons could play all them weird games off Assassins' Creed: 9/12 man Morris, Fanarona as well as Chess, drafts (checkers in American) or cards, dominoes.. Well whatever. I didn't see any of this at first but checked it out later when Cornelius went for a piss.
He was dressed in full 1800 naval regalia, looking a proper fuckin tool like. He strode up to the bar and ordered a mug of dark ale and a fuckin Rum chaser! Fuck me like, I like a drink mind, but it wasn't even noon! He starts goin on to the barman how he plans to check out some swanky establishments whilst he's in Town but until such time, might he be able to room upstairs?
Swanky establishment? This from a man who spent his last night alive sleeping on a park bench covered in damp newspaper. He carried it all off with such a glib air of confidence though that you'd be certain he was a member of the elite moneyed classes.
All of a sudden, he fishes a dead rodent from his pocket and whispers to it, crumbling some crumbs of flatbread into the palm of his hand to feed the fuckin thing. Jesus wept! He was one crazy prick this fucker! He put his shrew away again and patted the hilt of his sabre rhythmically. Swigging his ale he made a satisfied face and then downed his rum. With a visible shudder he smacked his lips and declared loudly "That's got the old cannon charged!" and then laughed loudly to himself.
I couldn't believe this tit honestly. I'd been with him a half hour and he was already getting right on my fuckin nerves. Here's some convo he enjoyed with the barman:
CC: I say my good man! Do you have any cigars? BM: Sure do Sir! What type would you like? CC: Haw Haw! I don't smoke barkeep! But I used to smuggle tobacco on the high seas some years back... BM: You were a pirate?! CC: I prefer the term 'buccaneer' good Sir! Seven long years shipping the stuff out right under the Admiral's nose. BM: A real risktaker eh? CC: We lost a lot of good men out there... (cuffs away imaginary tear) BM: You brave fellow! The next drink's on the house! CC: That's terribly kind Sir but I couldn't possibly.. BM: Nonsense! We'll toast your late comrades! Dark Ale wasn't it? CC:.... Don't forget the Rum chaser!
Un-fucking-believable!
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#ed1717
2
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1
5
Annasiel
At last, my peace. I found it in her eyes.
369
Aug 13, 2015 22:40:06 GMT
August 2015
annasiel
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Post by Annasiel on Aug 26, 2015 2:41:18 GMT
Story strode into the inn with all the airs of a queen, from her upturned nose to her practiced, flowing steps. She gave a momentary look-around at the patronage, before heading straight for the bar. The young girl sat herself on a stool. She made certain to be next to a man who held himself with wealthy class, hoping for it to add to the illusion. Today, Story was playing a little game called ‘fool the ignorant adults into thinking I’m important’. She leaned nonchalantly against the bar, turning to face the man beside her. He was an elder man, around the age of the child’s father, with pitch dyed hair and naval regalia. A retired captain, perhaps, or a famous explorer.
“Good evening,” she said to the man, in conjunction with a curt nod and a haughty tone. She straightened her spine, brushing off the elegant gown she may or may not have bought on stolen money. Borrowed was more of the case; she had every intention of returning the coins after a quick return of the dress. It didn’t match the bridal shower scheme after all.
The bartender, in the process of pouring a cask of foul smelling brew into the sailor man’s cup, gave her a queer look.
“You don’t look like you belong here. Run along, little girl, the booze is for grownups,” he said, his voice tinged with mirth. Story fixed him with a withering stare.
“You don’t know who I am. That is unfortunate. When my father…” she replied before the bartender interrupted.
“I don’t care who your father is, he wouldn’t want you drinking this shite. Now scram.”
The preteen turned to the man beside her with a look of callous indignation.
“Can you believe the nerve of this proletariat? You look like a man of wealth and status, so you must know my father. Tell the bartender how being unkind to me will bring him trouble,” she said, carefully choosing her words. If the possibly-captain had any sense of pride, he wouldn’t back down from such a comment. To not have connections in the world of the rich was almost taboo. ‘Social Norms and Customs, page 39’ said so.
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#ea7ca1
5
0
1
Jan 27, 2019 20:04:50 GMT
3
Leb
The loneliest are the kindest. The saddest smile the brightest. The most damaged are the wisest.
223
August 2015
leb
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Post by Leb on Aug 29, 2015 3:07:11 GMT
As Loretta came about to receive more tankards filled with mead, she noticed the young girl who couldn't possibly yet be in her teens prattling about how important her father is. Surely the so called prestigious father would not take kindly to his daughter going about in taverns full of elder men soon to become drunken fools.
“I don’t care who your father is, he wouldn’t want you drinking this shite. Now scram.”
The young girl turned to the decorated man beside her looking crossed as ever.
“Can you believe the nerve of this proletariat? You look like a man of wealth and status, so you must know my father. Tell the bartender how being unkind to me will bring him trouble.”
"Young miss, it isn't safe to wander into taverns filled with grown men, and soon to be drunk at that." Her voice was gentle and meek and soft enough to be barely audible to any passerby. "It's best to leave before dusk settles in." She worried for the child even though they never met before, and promptly gathered the drinks she had meant to serve to the men at the long table where a ruckus seemingly grew. The men all banged their fists against the table as they eyed Loretta with her tray filled with their long awaited drinks. They cheered in their merriment and some would burst out into song. Loretta returned to the bar with her empty tray and replaced it with a rag. She proceeded with cleaning up the tables of other patrons who've gone.
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inherit
15
0
Nov 11, 2015 15:06:04 GMT
1
emorichey
6
August 2015
emorichey
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Post by emorichey on Aug 30, 2015 22:20:59 GMT
The blackboard in this gaffe had some proper traditional pub fayre on it like; I quite fancied the Cod & sliced potatoes meself but y'can't eat fuck-all on these narratin gigs. Back home, everyone bangs on about fish bein' like this brain food. Makes you clever as fuck like? An it's all down to this fuckin Omega 3 or whatever. I thought if I could come up with Omega 4 I'd be one rich man. But fuck knows how to do it. Might have to stick to narratin for these fuckwit characters.
Which fuckin reminds me; Captain Codd... Ha ha! That's put me off the fish like! Wouldn't wanna eat this cunt. He was already half smashed from the booze and this like young kid comes in tryina get served. Fuck me, round our end you get half the fuckin high school crammed in the pubs on High Street every Friday night but the barkeep here was havin fuckin none of it like.
She starts kickin off about her old man being some fuckin bigwig or summat and then this other lass, barmaid, barges in tryina drag her away.
Cornelius spins round and half hears this request to cover for the kid and fair play to him, like. He recognises a fellow bullshitter when he sees one.
"Ah! Cecily! My girl... How the blazes are you?" He grins, spittle flecked across his stubbled fuckin chin. Then, cool as fuck, he turns to the barmaid, "You really must serve this young lady, her father is none other than Viscount Donald McCandless OBE himself! None other. Saved my ruddy life at the battle of the five rivers..."
I gotta be honest, the way all this shite rolls off his tongue is a talent like, he conjured up a whole fuckin history off the top of his head!
Mad bastard.
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#ed1717
2
0
1
5
Annasiel
At last, my peace. I found it in her eyes.
369
Aug 13, 2015 22:40:06 GMT
August 2015
annasiel
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Post by Annasiel on Aug 31, 2015 19:29:36 GMT
"I'm glad you recognize me, good sir."
Story eased away from her barfellow as specks of saliva shot from his mouth. She swiveled to the bar with her eyebrows raised, giving the bartender such a strong 'toldja so' look that it could have withered a flower.
"But I'm sorry to say this inn's employees are right. Spirits not for the young. All I need is a cup of watered down wine, or something else light enough to calm the nerves," the girl continued, the formal tone mashing horribly with her youthful voice. She placed a single coin onto the table, and nodded to the barkeep.
"Be quick about it, and I won't tell my father about your mouth. Trust me, you wouldn't want to cross him," she scolded again for added emphasis, giving a backwards glance to the maid. Turning back to the man beside her, Story's face broke into a wide smile.
"So many men of stature have walked through my doors, it makes my head spin. Remind me, who do I have the pleasure of speaking with on this young evening?"
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#ea7ca1
5
0
1
Jan 27, 2019 20:04:50 GMT
3
Leb
The loneliest are the kindest. The saddest smile the brightest. The most damaged are the wisest.
223
August 2015
leb
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Post by Leb on Sept 17, 2015 7:42:02 GMT
Loretta heard the conversation between the two and paid no mind to it. Better to not stick your nose in things it doesn't belong in. With that being the case she reluctantly scurried off to the kitchen where Gladys awaits impatiently. The stout elder woman nearly barked at the sight of her.
"Where've you been? I've got orders piling up and you're out there driveling with our patrons!"
Loretta held back her flinch as she expected this. Instead her gaze fell to her feet as she worked the courage to apologize to her for such conducts.
"I don't need you blubbering about, just get those men out there their food, they're hungry the lot of them, so get to it girl."
Just as she was ordered to do so, Loretta hurried to serve the food as best as she could with no spillage to the guests beyond the open doorway as quickly as she possibly could. Unfortunately, her hastened pace would call to mistakes, and a mistake she made. Just as she turned about the bar, Loretta made a misstep and fumbled the dish she carried. The young girl ungraciously had fallen spilling the contents of what had once been a wooden bowl full of porridge all about her. Much to her luck, the porridge had cooled enough to not burn her skin, unfortunately, she had wasted the food item and made a mess of things. Fear struck deep inside Loretta and tears welled up in her eyes with impending doom precariously hung overhead.
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