ANMOS

Order From Chaos. (Want Magic? Demons? Werewolves? We got it here and more!)

Okay.

Sorcerer. Claims to have quite the amount of power. Stands up and announces to the whole damn pub that he wants them to fetch him some skull from a vampire. Named Vlad, of course. So he can enact some ridiculous evil scheme.

He just flat out says he's a criminal, in a place belonging to his sole opposition.

_{"Absolute fuckin' idiot."} Eighty said under his breath, taking another sip of his lager. What the hell kind of villain operates like this? A bad one. An inexperienced one. And the most prominent thought on Eighty's mind - the hell kind of name for an evil sorcerer is Joshua?

He gave it little more thought, going back to internet browsing on his phone.

Order From Chaos. (Want Magic? Demons? Werewolves? We got it here and more!)

@ANMOS
Ah, I may have Ahnciel make a comment to him about the whole "People consume this drek?" sort of thing. idk

@Hawlin

If you want.

Order From Chaos. (Want Magic? Demons? Werewolves? We got it here and more!)

I guess this is what the ooc is here for. Who else is a loner, right now? >_>

@Hawlin

If you mean characters, Eighty is. Working on getting him to a respectable degree of drunk.

Order From Chaos. (Want Magic? Demons? Werewolves? We got it here and more!)

After a moment more of sitting and browsing, Eighty was feeling like another drink was in order. He messaged someone else on his phone before he stood up.

May be getting drunk tonight. Message you again if I don't hold up well enough.

He approached the counter once again as a couple women - and one child, evidently - were gabbing. He knocked for the bartender again, who approached him, asking "What now?"

"'Nother round, please." Eighty replied.

"I thought you said one?"

"'Or two', mate? Christ, use your 'ead."

The bartender leaned forward towards Eighty, looking rather serious now. "Okay." He said, "You don't get to come in here all these times and talk to me like that, expecting I'll just let it slide and keep serving you anything. Because frankly? I don't enjoy wasting my stock on normies."

There was a bit of a pause before Eighty quietly replied, "I'm not your average normie mate. We've established that. My money's as good as the rest o' these peoples'. Now I'm still behavin', so please, one more of my usual."

The two glared at each other for another moment before the reluctant exchange was made. Eighty turned with his second lager in hand, heading back to his claimed booth, passing by a table with one man and one woman talking to each other.

Wondered what all these people were, in their true forms.

Order From Chaos. (Want Magic? Demons? Werewolves? We got it here and more!)

49: did the poochie make it ok
80: Yeah.
49: goooood that's quality stock
49: and i did her pack a favor
80: I bet.
49: trust me dude it was for the best
80: And before you ask, I'll send you your cut tomorrow.
49: and hey what about my cut
49: lol beat me to it
49: crafty bloke
80: Yeah. Gonna go back to drinking now.
49: alright
49: enjoy your tea time dude
80: Bye.
49: bye

Eighty exited the chatroom, going back to viewing Reddit, taking another sip of his lager. The export from Forty-Nine, the best meat trafficker Eighty knew, had been a long deal. She'd killed several of her own pack plus some civilians and a cop back in the US. Forty-Nine had worked his magic and sent her over to London to be put to better use as a near-rabid killing machine. The pack thought she was being medicated - they'd have already gotten "there was a complication" talk by now.

Eighty turned his head towards the other people at the counter. Folks who looked like humans, but sure as hell weren't. Someone as mundane as him couldn't see past latent and constructed magic veils, but this place? It was a substitute over his natural intuition. He assumed he was the only normal human in here.

He finished up his lager and left the glass on the countertop. He stepped away and repositioned himself at a booth closer to the entrance. He kept an eye on the folks seated at the bar.

Something told him they were going to start something.

Order From Chaos. (Want Magic? Demons? Werewolves? We got it here and more!)

<Snipped quote by ANMOS>

That's because I inserted Sans into this RP.

@rush99999

I am aware.

Order From Chaos. (Want Magic? Demons? Werewolves? We got it here and more!)

Everything I see, somehow Undertale bleeds into it.

Order From Chaos. (Want Magic? Demons? Werewolves? We got it here and more!)

Ah, sorry, 80, I didn't notice your character had arrived yet...

@mattmanganon

No trouble. Thanks for clarifying.

Order From Chaos. (Want Magic? Demons? Werewolves? We got it here and more!)

@mattmanganon Is Mara talking to Eyja, or Eighty? They're both human.

Order From Chaos. (Want Magic? Demons? Werewolves? We got it here and more!)

You don't go to a pub for a glass of water. Not a normal one at least, this one was a more special case. Eighty was seated, passing a glance at the woman who'd asked for her glass of rain, only to get denied. After her turn was up, the bartender approached him next.

"You." The bartender commented, "What do you want now?"

"My usual." Eighty replied, "I'll be out of your hair after one or two, mate. Ease up."

The bartender, looking all sorts of displeased, turned and grabbed a glass, and held it under a lager dispenser. He handed over the drink, and Eighty handed over the payment. They continued to eye each other for a moment as the exchange was made.

"You ever gonna tell me your name?" The bartender asked.

"No." Eighty replied.

The bartender looked well and done with the conversation, so he turned to serve his other patrons. Eighty began taking sips of his lager, pulling out his phone and flipping through messages and random websites. And, passing quick glances around the room, mainly for signs of trouble.