HHShetland

The Blue Moon Tavern

"Goddamn, that racket..." the old Zizz mumbled to himself some more as he let the herbal sensation roll around on the inside of his toothy snout. It would appear as though the newfangled magic rays of the man... woman... something-or-other had counteracted the calming essence of his Pipe. To take his mind off it, he eavesdropped on the two ladies conversing next to him. One of them, a winged girl who he vaguely recalled catching a glimpse of for a fraction of a second before, looked a bit strange, but that was, ironically, not very strange to a man like Rimau. The other one he didn't recognise, but he couldn't help but nod to himself as he listened to her talk about the dangers of naivete. Valuable stuff to teach a kid, of which there were too many who weren't taught that. Good news for him, though, was the re-appearance of Miss Naida, possibly the prettiest and most efficient bartender this side of... anywhere, really. The grin came back to him as he removed his Pipe and began to ramble to her. "Well, well, if it ain't my favourite bartender for the past week? Y'know, most bartenders I've seen don't 'ave wings an' can't flit about everywhere in a storm all fancy-like, an' that's pretty crazy 'cause it makes yer job real easy. Like, mint cash for nothin'-level easy. Reminds me o' this guy I saw once who set up his own bean farm, an'... well, it was pretty complicated, like, he had to sign a good mountain o' paperwork to even get 'imself the pen to sign the first of fifty million contracts with, an' there were, like, several thousand clauses designed to extort yer outta yer first-born son's soul... why's it always the first-born son, anyway? I mean, what 'ave all the devils got against the ladies? Hell, for that matter, why's it always virgin sacrifices? I'da thought the more experienced types would'a been considered, 'cause if yer gonna kill someone for some crazy kid in the sky, why bother bein' fussy? As if they 'ad standards all of a sudden? Pfft. That's a big problem we got nowadays, there ain't no professional standards, like that kid over there with his crappy 'music', an' if that were written down, that'd be in inverted commas, 'cause quite frankly, I dunno what he thinks he's achievin' tryin' to brainwash us into givin' him money with his fancy-shmancy magic rays. Look at 'at, backfire! I just got the courage to speak out against the lack o' professional standards in this day an' age! I remember a time an' a place where if you didn't 'ave standards, bullet to the 'ead fer you, hahahaha! Ahhh..." It only then dawned on him that she might not be particularly interested in his rambling, especially after he noticed her mumbling to some other kid, the one with dog ears glued to his skull. He took another puff of his Pipe to clear his head again. It was too early to be making a bad impression. "Sorry 'bout that, y'know I get a lil'... distracted when I ain't workin'. Anyways, lovely miss Naida, I don't s'pose y'could get me m'mornin' glass o' Orange Juice? I don't get these kiddos, I mean, look at 'em! Drinkin' Ale in the mornin'?! What kinda conduct is 'at? I once saw this one lady who drank a keg o' ale one Saturday mornin', an' lemme tell ya... uh... never mind. Y'ad to be there, anyways."

By Wings of Death (Dragon RP)

So I've just been thinking about this RP again, and I was wondering; can we make a character who can switch between two forms (one of these forms being a disguise)?

The Blue Moon Tavern

Well that tavern, as a whole, is very smoky.

@Gentlemanvaultboy

That may be so, but Rimau ain't smoking tobacco... :P

The Blue Moon Tavern

Ah well, I'm not much of an economist, so I'll just accept that 'it's fantasy' for now. Oh, and I don't suppose the Tavern has a no-smoking policy?

The Blue Moon Tavern

I'd just like to point out that creating a lot of gold out of nowhere and then releasing it all onto the market would cause massive hyperinflation and ruin the economy. Though I suppose Azzrix could get away with it if he made sure to only make small purchases, releasing the gold into the market in increments over time. Just letting you know. EDIT: Oh, never mind, someone else mentioned it.

The Blue Moon Tavern

The old Zizz soon descended the stairs and entered the main room of the tavern, scanning his head from left to right. It was considerably busier than usual this morning, he noticed. Lots of strange folk hanging around, too. There was some fancy-pants Rodent hanging about; could've sworn he's seen that one before. But there was something even stranger next to him; a giant Ogre was standing there with a pint in his hand (seemed like a woefully inadequate amount for a creature of his size), laughing in the Rodent's face. He couldn't see the Rodent's face, and that was a shame, because he'd probably have been putting on a funny expression. Off in one of the corners, he squinted at the redhead witch hanging about in the shade. It wasn't an evil squint, mind you, but a competitive squint; he had been at the tavern for about a week now, and had had ample opportunity to acquaint himself with that one. He couldn't help but admire her ingenuity with that Crossbow of hers. She could prove problematic if any big-time mercenary work pops up, with all that old-school magic of hers. Cheating? Yes, but only if you got caught. Then there was that Sheep herder at one of the tables. Best ignore that one, he thought. He'd been sneaking about 'his' land again, and he didn't seem to have a good sense of humour. The sort of person who'd go nuts if you so much as mentioned the idea of controlling animal population. Which was a shame, given the enormous Wolf he'd spotted in the area. That was going to prove quite the prize, when he had some free time. What was particularly irritating at this time in the morning, though, was the sheer business of the place. The Zizz usually sat in one of the comfy seats off in the corner somewhere, but it seemed like that area was flooded with young fools getting drunk at nine A.M., or whatever time it was. Morons! They'd probably end up dead before the day was done, he thought as he chuckled to himself slightly, though not forgetting his irritation. As a result of these morons, however, the Zizz was forced to manuever his way past quite a few patrons (not an easy task thanks to his height and tail swaying about) and clamber up on top a lone stool at the bar, somewhere he rarely ever sat. There was a good reason for this, which made itself apparent pretty soon. Ignoring the great wall that was the Ogre to his left, he rummaged about in one of his belt pockets to retrieve his prized Pipe, made of dark wood as per usual Zizz preference. Removing the little cap to stop all the pre-packed 'medicinal' herbs from falling out, he removed a match from the same pocket and attempted to strike it against the bar. No luck. He tried it again, and again, and about six more 'agains' before he could finally squeeze a little flame off it, grumbling to himself the entire time. That was another weird thing about the tavern; it always took more effort to light matches. Some sort of newfangled suppression field, perhaps, which might also explain the sheer lack of the usual bar fights he'd seen in... just about every other tavern he'd been to. Except the ones in Tarzblik, obviously. For entirely different reasons. Finally, he stuck his Pipe in his toothy mouth and lit it with the match, waving it about afterwards to turn the fire into a little smoke puff. Of course, that was nothing compared to what happened afterwards as the Zizz began to actually smoke said Pipe, releasing much bigger puffs of smoke which spread across the bar. Of course the Zizz didn't particularly care for any inconvenience this may cause, since the calming herbal sensation had him captivated. It was enough to make him grin again, in that classic terrifying fashion Zizz were known for.

The Blue Moon Tavern

By the way, @Forsythe, is it okay if Rimau is already acquainted with Margaret? I feel like he'd see her as a rival of sorts.

The Blue Moon Tavern

No, no, I meant there's songbirds where I am, in real life. It's night time here.

The Blue Moon Tavern

Just made Rimau's first post; he'll come down soon enough. And just so you know, he's been living at the tavern for about a week (if that's acceptable). Umm... and, uh... there's songbirds outside. At night. Not very interesting.

The Blue Moon Tavern

"...Son of a gun." ...A voice echoed from within the depths of a seemingly endless cavern of colossal proportions. It was the only noise within the cavern's mass, a complete absence of most of the usual cavern suspects such as bats, dirt, and internal wind. The only light formed something on an island in the corner of the great void. The light didn't seem to have any source, but it did illuminate something quite remarkable. An enormous Dragon with vibrant blue scales laid, dead, atop a glowing mountain of gold and treasure, its eye bubbling with blood which flowed down its face and the treasure hoard like a volcano. Out of the darkness, the old Zizz emerged. The lizard with the gun and the eccentric dress sense. Pattering along the rocky cavern floor, he had his rifle rested upon his shoulder and a great, toothy grin on his face. His pattering sped up considerably as he approached the sight in the middle of the isle of light, eventually dropping his rifle as he fell to his knees to start frantically rummaging through the mountain of treasure. "Where is that frickin' thing, where is it, where is it..." He muttered to himself as he dug through the mound like a mole, jangling gold and getting Dragon's blood on his hands. Eventually, his jaw dropped as he grasped one item in particular, still buried beyond his reach. Unfortunately, in his excitement, he loosened his grasp on the item and it fell back into the depths, frustrating him to no end. His face now turning to anger, he continued to rummage, until he noticed something familiar. An item off to the left, just as shiny and bloody as everything else. He grabbed at it without hesitation. Upon closer inspection, he realised that he was holding an alarm clock, of typical Zizz design. He was about to toss it away when... "BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIII-" ----------------- "-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-" Back in the place widely known as 'Reality', the old, snoring lizard shuffled about on the bed, creaking the wooden floor beneath its weight. He had no covers to speak of, and the blinds were wide open, exposing the heat of the sun upon his aged, reptilian body. As his eyes twitched open with irritation, he swung over onto his stomach and punched the alarm clock on the bedside table next to him (much more brown and rusty than its dreamworld counterpart), slicing it in half. Again. As the tape holding it together came apart. Again. Swivelling his legs towards the direction of the bright light outside, he very slowly moved one of his clawed hands off to the side to tightly grip the black barrel of his beloved Rifle; Skrin-Ko, he calls it, leaning against the wall next to his bed. "...Gah, the same damn dream again..." He mumbled to himself as he placed the Rifle onto his lap. Pulling back the Revolver action, he removed six bullets from his bandolier (having gone to sleep fully-clothed like usual) and individually placed each one inside the cylinder. "That frickin' dream, always in this tavern..." He mumbled some more, slinging the Rifle onto his back to greet whatever action today would hand him, and heaving himself to the floor, his scaled feet protecting against splinters. "...Somethin' ain't right about this place." The lizard slapped himself upside the head. It wasn't good to think too much about these things. He'd heard that this tavern could provide steady work, and that's exactly what he wanted. He of all people knows better than to question the nature of any arrangement... beneficial or not.