Zou visits the Drunken Rat Tavern

[Zou]

continued from: http://www.tharshaddin.com/rp/viewtopic.php?f=7&t=1704


Outside, the sun was fading ever westward, and the workers were strolling home to chimneys that soothed the skies with the efforts of gentle wives at their pots. But in the Drunken Rat Tavern, the evening revelry had only just begun. A particularly heavy pitcher of ale slamming a table near the door seemed to herald Zou's arrival, and immediately distracted him from the dreary decor, reminding him that it was the charming and witty company for which he had made the journey, not the establishment itself.

The barkeep seemed busy enough at the moment, so Zou contented himself with a small table, and waited patiently for a waitress to make her rounds. Soon enough, he was enjoying a mug of bitter ale. Most forms of alcohol Zou found entirely too intoxicating. A nice bitter, however, he could enjoy thoroughly without the hindrances of Bacchus taking their toll. His eyes glazed over in appreciation at the taste. He knew it was nothing more than the usual swill, served up each night to launch the raving masses into numbness, but he found it exquisite nonetheless, especially when complemented with live music such as this...

[Julian Daniels]

Julian played as he always did, lost in his own world. There were no lyrics, just music, as his finger's memories manipulated the tense strings of the guitar to develop the music which filled the Rat. As he played, he drifted in his mind's eye, rolling over hills and lush grash somewhere... somewhere...

The tavern was quiet tonight, save for the melody being strung out by his hands. Most people were either nodding appreciatively or lost in worlds of their own, each man finding his own remote place to disappear to as the tune breezed through the door and filtered into the street beyond.

Finally, Julian realised that he needed to stop, to answer the call of nature and lubricate his dry, patchy throat. His fingers sensed this too, almost re-joining his body as he became aware that they were playing, and brought the song to an end, a graceful fade to a smooth, almost lullaby melody. He coughed, onc, to clear his throat, and then spoke fairly quietly, but with a certain quality which caused his voice to carry over the entire, as quiet as it had become.

"That's all for now. I'll be back on a lttle later with some old favourites, and some requests. Thanks." He hoisted the guitar strap off his shoulders, leaning the instrument carefully against the wall under the well-held trust that the landlord would keep an eye on it, as he always did.

A few minutes later he emerged from the latrine and picked up the waiting pint, then set about scanning the bar for someone to talk to. Picking the only guy who didn't look half-dead, drunk or asleep, he wandered over to the stranger's table, and spoke in a voice which carried less than before, although it was oddly of a similar volume.

"Hi, I'm Julian. Mind if I sit here?"

[Zou]

Zou had been following the music appreciatively, and now that he found himself face to face with its architect, he was more than happy to indicate the empty chair across from him and offer a warm smile. His voice was warm, and unimposing, yet its intelligence and reserved politeness gave it weight.

"Julian. We share a passion of the soul. Let us pick it apart with our minds over a heartwarming ale, while we rest our bodies. Thus shall we keep the four bastions of a healthy existence well-tended. I am Zou, a great admirer."

Zou did not stand up to shake hands. He had noticed quickly upon his coming of age that tavern etiquette functioned on a more honest and relaxed wavelength than that of most social recipes, and he knew that it was only necessary for him to rise to the occasion in spirit. Anything more would have been foolishly formal.

"You obviously know your business, Sir. I particularly enjoyed your use of descending chords around a central melody in some of your gentler work. Some consider it so cliché. I say it just takes a fresh mind to make it shine with originality. I am most intrigued by the musical systems of the western lands. Where I am from, we use an entirely different tonal distribution."

Zou's hollow nasal bone clinked with his glass on his next draught of ale, and he raised his eyebrows as he corrected the angle of his head.

[Caiomhe Feryn]

Caiomhe sighed as she entered the tavern. There was something about music that always calmed her and distracted her from her major purpose in going wherever she was going, and it was the same that night. Her hearing, as she lacked most of her sight, was very good, and music always drew her near. She had leaned against the wall close to the entrance of the tavern for the final few strains of the songs, letting the music wash over her in waves. She let out a slight breath as the song ended and the musician spoke, his voice something of a liquid melody as well.

She followed his footsteps over to a table on the outside edge of the tavern, and heard his low voice speaking again. The table was barely a shadow in her smoky vision, and she couldn’t see the figures sitting at it in the dim light, which wasn’t helping her straining eyes to see. She drew a little closer, flicking her grayish-green robe tighter against her body, and she knew that the hood was already up, shielding her eyes. She listened to the two men talk briefly and then made up her mind.

She walked over to the table, standing off to one side, the left of the table, and not making eye contact with either of the two. “I ‘erd ye cenversatin.” Her voice was both quiet and low, as though she was shy. Her accent was not from the region, and it was very apparent in her speech. “I te, ‘preciate the nuances o’ music. May I set down wit’ ye fer a tieme?”

She couldn't see them, of course. She couldn't see either one of them clearly. They were... shapes. Paler faces in darker clothes, which was to say, light blots over darker ones. The table and everything blended together in her sight like shadows reflected on a river, a swirling eddy of brown and grey. Candlelight danced, bright spots on the river, and Caiomhe shook her head slightly, trying to clear her ruined vision. She closed her eyes and waited for an answer.

[Julian Daniels]

Julian sat, downing half his pint in a manner that didn't befit someone with a voice like his. He nodded to the stranger, unsure whether she had said anything resembling a name in amongst the indiscriminate slang that had formed her inquiry, then let out a little sigh, and let his head loll backwards, for a moment, to stretch the muscles he'd been keeping tense to hold the guitar close to his body.

Smoothly moving his head back to gaze levelly at the stranger with no nose who called himself Zou, with a deliberate expression on his face, he spoke five words before returning to his drink.

"I'm glad you like it."

After finishing the beer off, he half-shrugged as he motioned to the barman to pull another pint for him, again speaking very little.

"Keeps the throat lubricated."

There were many reasons for this level of social interaction, a few Julian was vaguely aware of. One was that he had already drunk the best part of twelve pints in as little time as he had downed the twelfth. Beer didn't really affect him that much, but twelve pints of it was starting to press rather heavily on his consciousness. Still, he wasn't really trusting of anything else the bar served, since it tended to be opaque, smell foul, or some with a daft little umbrella in it, or have a stupid name, which his father had warned him about years previously.

"Don't drink anything you can't see through, anything with a stupid name, or anything with a daft little umbrella in it. And if it smells fould, it probably tastes foul. Stick with beer."

And so he had drunk beer whenever he wanted a drink from this bar, or water. Water more usually, since he didn't often indulge the pleasures of beer. When he did, however, he went at it in a big way. And it was for this reason, as he collected his thirteenth pint and set about drinking it in the only way he knew how, this reason and a few others he couldn't remember, why he wasn't saying too much at the moment.

There was a general school of thought, circling around some of the people that knew Julian well, that he played slightly better whilst drunk. Not, of course, so drunk he fell over, but drunk nevertheless. That being said, he was still sober enough to realise that the conversation with a self-confessed fan and a stranger who apparently appreciated the "nuances" of music, whatever the hell a nuance was, might need a little more input from him, so, with a little effort, he nose-dived into it.

"Sorry. I need to drink a lot sometimes. Anyway, Zou."

He smiled rougishly, savouring the question he'd decided to ask even though he knew full well what the answer was.

"What's a bastion?"

[Zou]

At the blind woman's approach, and her unassuming words, Zou was quick to help her into a chair, and while doing so, answered Julian's question in an absentminded, almost offhand fashion, thereby failing to take note of any glibness or irony it might have held. "Oh, you know, a mainstay, a necessary constituent."

To Caiomhe, he spoke more attentively, not as a matter of favoritism, but as a matter of chivalry. Though he found a codpiece unnecessary, so to speak, Zou nevertheless was driven to gentlemanly bearing, seemingly of his own accord and nature, and his behavior in this regard seemed more noble when one realized he lacked carnal motive. He said such things to her as: "Would you slake your thirst, madam?" and also made a point of introducing himself graciously and humbly, as one should to a lady.

As he sat back down and turned to Julian, he smiled warmly. "I see you are somewhat ahead of me," he said as he nodded towards Julian's ale. Zou guessed the man at five mugs, and would have been duly impressed were he to know the true tally. "Perhaps it is time I ordered another."

He held up one finger to the barman, shortly after Julian had ordered his own ale, and then paused for a moment, before placing enough bishan on the table to pay for three ales. "In fact, the next round shall be heralded by my purse strings alone, dear companions."

Zou gave himself a moment of consideration, and was surprised at what he saw. This would be the first time in years that he had gone beyond his usual limit of one ale. Perhaps it was the music of the seemingly carefree Julian that had thus loosened his practiced manner and set in twain his worries...

As he awaited service, Zou considered the woman. He felt rather magnetic, having attracted two to his little table, and these within five minutes of each other. But this one was special, and he felt that there was more than some unthinking magnetism that had drawn her hither. Nay, Zou wagered she had something in mind... He decided to think no more of it for the time being. Fear, after all, constricted wonder.

[Caiomhe Feryn]

Caiomhe nodded a quick thank you at Zou, surprised but pleased at his chivalric behavior. Most men didn’t act that way and it was nice to be treated kindly for a change. She dipped her head once more in acceptance of a drink. “I thank ye. A drop o’ drink would be shurly appri’shated.”

She was slightly unsure of what to say around the two men now, and stifled a smile at the question that she’d overheard. She didn’t answer the other man’s, the musician’s, question. She had no want to make a fool of herself, and she felt like she would if she spoke.

She didn’t know why she had entered the tavern. She could hardly see in the dim lighting at all, she wasn’t familiar with the area (the music had been her guide in reaching the tavern at all), and she didn’t really know anyone. Her eyes were nearly shut, helping enhance her already good hearing, and her ears picked up on the soft clink of money being set on the table. She murmured another thank you.

Caiomhe smiled a bit and spoke again, forgetting that she hadn’t introduced herself. “I’m Caiomhe. Caiomhe Feryn. I’m native to te fer western lands, and I’m no from aroun’ here. As ye can likely tell from me words.” She fell silent once more. She might have been able to sacrifice the sight of minds, but when it came to polite conversation she was at something of a loss.

[Julian Daniels]

Julian was unsurprised by Zou's attentiveness to the blind woman, whom he had at first not realised was, in fact, blind. He felt compelled to apologise for it, but held his tongue, figuring that she probably hadn't noticed his ignroance in the first place. Attempting to fit in with the epithet of social drinking, he sipped at his pint of ale this time around, rather than downed it, and seemingly tasted it for the first time.

It was good stuff, the ale the landlord saved him, reserved for a true friend and loyal employee. It's colouring and aroma were a cut above the usual slosh served in the tavern, and, by proxy of accompaniment, Zou would no doubt experience it for himself fairly soon. As for the blind lady, he wasn't sure what she would be served. The barman had an uncanny knack for serving people what they wanted in this joint, so accurately Julian had once suspected it might be a magical ability of some sort. He'd never asked, and so it remained a vague suspicion, but Julian himself was a tolerant man for such things.

And the tolerant man was sat at a table with a man with no nose and a blind lady with a rough manner of speaking. Which reminded him, as he pondered on that point a little, that he had not spoken to her yet, or if he had he couldn't remember doing. Upon realising this, he turned to her, not that she would have noticed, and spoke.

"Good evening, madam. My apologies, my mind was elsewhere, in the realm of music. I am Julian Daniels, the musician here. It is a pleasure to meet you."

He made no effort to touch her, or kiss her hand in the accepted chivalric manner, simply because having noticed she was blind, he had no idea how she would react to suddenly being touched without warning. Then he turned to Zou.

"My good man, I apologise to you. I have full knowledge of what a bastion is. As I have already mentioned, my mind was elsewhere. And your offer is most gracious," he added, remembering that Zou had insisted on buying the round, "and will be well-recieved on only one condition. Namely, that I buy the following round."

[Zou]

Zou had little trouble in understanding Caiomhe, but was most intrigued by one thing:

"What lies West of Marn, madam? I have been through most places East of here, but the lands upon which the sun doth nightly trod have yet to feel my own boots, and you, though sadly bereft of sun, can surely describe to me things over which I have no compass. I would fain mount those rocks upon which the coastal surge breaks nightly in overtures twisted and silvery! I pray you, give us a tale!"

Zou, as he started in upon his third glass of ale, began to feel the stirrings of revelry within him, and laughed a little at the overly poetic deliverance of his request for a story. To Julian, he chuckled more loudly when the lad confessed that he knew very well what a bastion was, and heartily accepted his proposal regarding a fourth round of ale. Nearly forgetting himself, he tipped his head back and downed half his glass. He knew quite well his stomach could manage the brewer's onslaught, but was pleasantly surprised to find that the taste of this ale was far superior to that of the ale previous.

"My good fellow, forgive the naive question, for I am not a heavy drinker. Does the third glass always taste infinitely better?"

[Gia Rilan]

Caiomhe smiled a bit at the attention. She gave a bit of a tease to Julian, making light of her blindness. "I'll bet ye no expec me tae be blind, yeah? It donnae matter. I hieghly enjoyed yer music; I had no heard ye afore this night. I seldom cum into thae toon, can I avoid et. And please, both o' ye... I am nae madam. Call me Caiomhe, or Cai, should ye wish et."

She turned to Zou, his polished speaking making a good impression on her. His voice didn't hurt her sensitive ears as many other's did, and neither did Julian's mid-range voice, for which she was grateful. "Ye aere askin' me for a story? And of me lands, no less... Tae answer yer first query, there is much tae thae west of Maerne and Shiyme." The lilt in her vocie was very noticable, especially as she said the names of the settlements. She pronounced an 'e' sound on the end of each of them, making them sound almost like questions.

"I was baerne in thae fer western reaches o' thae world. Near to the great oceans, if ye know what'n I mean. I cannae think o' a proper story tae tell ye that would nae take the entir night up. And somehow, I no can think why you tae nice men would want tae spend an entire evenin' listenin' tae thae ramblin's o' a blind girl." She finsihed with a smile and tasted the wine that had been brought to her. It was very good and her lips tilted up even a bit more in appriciation of the smooth flavor.

[Julian Daniels]

"My good fellow, forgive the naive question, for I am not a heavy drinker. Does the third glass always taste infinitely better?"

Julian sat back and smiled as the warm, cosy effect of too much beer pressed heavily down upon him. He shook his head, with a light chuckle, and lowered his voice a little so as not to announce the facts to the entire bar before replying.

"That depends on your first two glasses, Zou. And I'm guessing your first two were the usual piss-water that this bar serves to it's less regular customers."

"And please, both o' ye... I am nae madam. Call me Caiomhe, or Cai, should ye wish et."

Julian kept smiling, not that Cai would have seen it, and relaxed a little more. Good beer, good music - even if it was his own - and good company seemed a fine way to spend an evening, and he said as much to his newfound partners-in-drinking. A small idea flashed across his mind, and he began to stand up. However, the barkeep, who had seemingly pre-empted his flash of insight, was already at their table, holding out Julian's guitar with a carefully unreadable expression on his face.

Julian took it, mindulf of that expression and the infinite possible number of meanings behind it, and began fiddling with the tuning. It wasn't really necessary, but an ingrained habit he had picked up from countless un-tuned guitars. Once he'd done this, he began picking out soft chords, and eventually developing them into a light melody which didn't take too much effort to keep up, and add a little variance to.

After a few moments, he stopped, to take a swig of his pint.

[Zou]

An ill-concealed disappointment shadowed Zou's shadows, and discolored his whites, at the lady's reluctance to spin a tale, and he was quick to point out that the ingredients need boast neither candor nor sincerity, so long as it smacked of the West.

A raised eyebrow was the only immediate concession of countenance given to Julian's whisp'rings of privy. Zou, lowering his head, spoke in kind to Caiomhe: "It seems, Cai, that we are guilty by association, and therefore must be punished with none but the choicest bitters and grapes, reserved usually for repeat offenders in the great escape from reality for which these timbers serve both as courthouse and as facilitator."

Zou then spoke in a slightly louder voice: "Unto my sentence, and my felonious peers, I do raise th'means of justice, and drink it as swiftly as it was served."

This toast revealed the bottom of Zou's glass, and he was feeling more than a little tipsy by now. It was therefore with greater relish than usual that his ears embraced the swelling tenors of song. He closed his eyes and hummed softly to himself, hitting soprano harmonics far beyond the range of most adult males, but remaining soft and unnoticeable.

[Caiomhe Feryn]

Caiomhe felt a light blush mantle her cheeks as she sensed Zou's disappointment in her lack of a story. She began to dredge up a suitable tale in her mind as Julian played his guitar, eyes drifting shut with the light melody. A slight smile drifted across her face as she recalled one story about a musician. She tried to recall more of it as the song faded to a close and Julian took a swig of his beer.

She'd wondered at Zou's high voice--all the men she'd met before had much lower voices. However, she'd figured that it'd be rude to ask and kept her peace, forming the tail ends of the story in her mind. "I can recall one story, Zou, should ye wish et still. I cannae say that et stinks o' thae west, but 'tis a story from me younger days, and ye may like et..."

She paused and took a sip of her glass once more, wetting her throat. She inhaled lightly and started in on her story, helting a little bit when she tried to do a rapid translation in her head. her accent lifted slightly and she spoke clearer, for some reason. "There was once a young girl who had a dog who looked like a wolf. They were great friends, and would gae e'erywhere together. This girl's father haed a small herd o' cattle that he would take doon te thae shore of the ocean e'ery day, and thae girl and her dog would come with him.

"When thae girl was older one day her dog v... saerry, the 'v' soond is haerder fer me tae say... v-vanished, and she didnae know where he went. She was sad, o' course, but thought that he must have left her tae die. In the west, that is what we do for our own kin's comfort... we leave tae die on our own. But this wolf had left his girl, and she went and married a nice enough maen. Her maen went off tae war, as my people are apt tae do.

"The girl's hoosband didnae return for a long time. Saerry, this story is maere difficult tae traslaete... time passed, and the maen didnae coom home tae the girl. She was left withour a defender in her home, and one day robbers of thae worst saert came and attacked her home. It's a loose traenslation, but the wolf came back and attacked the robbers en his turn, even though he should have been long dead. He was a ghost, drawn back from need, and he stayed with her until her hoosband returned."

Caiomhe fell silent. The story wasn't half as exciting when it was translated from her language into the local tongue. Her language made the story like a song, whereas it just sounded like a child's story now. She was slightly embarassed and looked down, taking another sip of her wine. She'd chosen to tell it becuase it spoke somewhat of her culture, with the dying thing and ghosts, but it sounded silly.

"Where are ye tae froom, then?" She tried to cover her awkwardness with a question.

[Julian Daniels]

Julian smiled at Zou's words, and shrugged animatedly, holding out his hands in a gesture of helplessness as to the plight of his drinking companion. He was planning to say something about it, but as he tried to fit the words into the correct order in his head, Caiomhe began to tell her tale.

He frowned slightly a few minutes in, as he could tell that her story had not initially been spoken in the native language which she recounted it in. He quickly caught the expression before it displayed on his face, habitually, even though Caiomhe would hardly have noticed, and pondered to ihmself as he half-listened to the tale being told.

Perhaps this was the reason she wasn't eager to tell a story, he thought to himself, and then felt slightly guilty at pressing the issue. As Caiomhe wound up her tale, he nodded slightly and, with effort, punched through the haze of drunkenness surrounding his thoughts to remember where he came from.

"Here, I think. I'm pretty sure. Hell, I've been all over the place... all over the world, ahaha. So I can't tell." He stopped talking. Drinking and talking was all well and good as a social activity, but if his next poision wasn't coffee, he'd be waking up in the gutter wih half a pint glass sticking out of his face.

Again.

[Jaspenellar]

Lo'en hesitated outside the door of the Drunken Rat Tavern. What was she doing here in a city? The city? There was nothing here for her. Go back to the wild, go back to the outside... The half-elf huffed at her indecision and shut her brain off with a flick of her wrist as she opened the door.

Lo'en paused in the doorway, letting her eyes adjust from the light of the fading sun to the candle light of the Tavern. Her third tavern in as many hours. A few faces turned to newcomer but quickly the non-descript, slightly dirty half-elf was dismissed and most of the patrons continued with their conversations and drinks. Grey eyes took in the surroundings, making note of the state of cleanliness, general populace, and small stage which now sat empty.

She shut the door quietly behind her but remained standing near it. The barkeep was too busy tending to business to holler at her, so the half-elf remained standing, annoyed with herself, which did not outweigh her reluctance to be rejected from yet another employer. A barmaid skirted by, artfully sidestepping Lo'en without so much a glance, her skirts sweeping over the floor. The pointed ears perked and the half-elf's gaze slew to the direction from which the barmaid had come. There had been something faintly... goat-like among the other typical bar odors on that draft. There, in the corner near the door, sat three people but no goats. Lo'en was about to dismiss the scene until the light caught something on one of their faces. Her eyes widened before she caught herself, revealing her shock and slight distaste noticing the man's lacking nose.