Post by Deleted on Dec 24, 2018 20:41:08 GMT
The Fiery Flagon was a beautiful place. Recently renovated, the inside could not have been warmer and cosier, all the better to chase away the winter chill. A roaring fire banished any hint of frost, hearty food filled every plate and rich ale every mug. The clientele were mixed, as most Waterdeep taverns were, but unlike many places in the Sea Ward, the people here evinced signs of wealth and taste. Nobles, merchants, and the well-to-do of the land laughed, joked, and found quiet booths in which to conduct their deals.
It was not, traditionally, the kind of place that Trisys would come… but right now, it was absolutely perfect.
The young gnome woman, scarred across her cheek and clad in her old, battered splint mail, stood out somewhat amongst the finer clientele. But her money spent just as well as everyone else’s – better than some, in fact – and if there was one thing she could be sure of in such fine company, it was that she was not going to be bothered by anyone she knew, either from her recent past, or her childhood.
There was a slight pang of guilt as she thought that, but it was easily smothered under another gulp of frothy ale. Small as she was, the large tankard she’d been given required both hands to properly navigate, but nevertheless she was keeping up with the other patrons at the bar. Seated on a stool, she kept herself propped as she carefully drowned the last vestiges of her forsaken obligations.
Yes, her family would be hurt if they knew she was back and hadn’t come to see them yet, but she hated the way they looked at her. The pride in their eyes, the joy they felt knowing that she was off making a name for herself. If they knew the things that she’d let happen, that she’d done, that she’d been made to do…
“Barkeep!” Trisys declared, suddenly vaulting up onto the bar and kicking the empty mug up into her hands. This display of prowess earned a hearty round of applause and chuckles from some of her fellow drinkers. It didn’t matter how heavily armed and armoured someone of her size happened to be; it was hard to feel intimidated by such a small and cheerful being.
And she did look cheerful. Her smile was bright, and broad, and never quite reached her eyes.
“Another round of drinks for me and all my friends this fine evening! Let me share my fortune with all these fantastic fellows.”
She was definitely slurring her speech a little, wobbling as she scattered coins on the bar to the uproarious applause of the other patrons. Rich or poor, noble or common, working a tavern never differed much. Only the price of approval changed, never the terms.
((OOC - This is an Open Social thread; feel free to jump in if you want to share drinks with a morose gnome!))
It was not, traditionally, the kind of place that Trisys would come… but right now, it was absolutely perfect.
The young gnome woman, scarred across her cheek and clad in her old, battered splint mail, stood out somewhat amongst the finer clientele. But her money spent just as well as everyone else’s – better than some, in fact – and if there was one thing she could be sure of in such fine company, it was that she was not going to be bothered by anyone she knew, either from her recent past, or her childhood.
There was a slight pang of guilt as she thought that, but it was easily smothered under another gulp of frothy ale. Small as she was, the large tankard she’d been given required both hands to properly navigate, but nevertheless she was keeping up with the other patrons at the bar. Seated on a stool, she kept herself propped as she carefully drowned the last vestiges of her forsaken obligations.
Yes, her family would be hurt if they knew she was back and hadn’t come to see them yet, but she hated the way they looked at her. The pride in their eyes, the joy they felt knowing that she was off making a name for herself. If they knew the things that she’d let happen, that she’d done, that she’d been made to do…
“Barkeep!” Trisys declared, suddenly vaulting up onto the bar and kicking the empty mug up into her hands. This display of prowess earned a hearty round of applause and chuckles from some of her fellow drinkers. It didn’t matter how heavily armed and armoured someone of her size happened to be; it was hard to feel intimidated by such a small and cheerful being.
And she did look cheerful. Her smile was bright, and broad, and never quite reached her eyes.
“Another round of drinks for me and all my friends this fine evening! Let me share my fortune with all these fantastic fellows.”
She was definitely slurring her speech a little, wobbling as she scattered coins on the bar to the uproarious applause of the other patrons. Rich or poor, noble or common, working a tavern never differed much. Only the price of approval changed, never the terms.
((OOC - This is an Open Social thread; feel free to jump in if you want to share drinks with a morose gnome!))
