[Crafting/Elkeid] The Midnight Bell

[Deleted]

1035 words		It's Not Even Midnight Yet
Well, shit. Caerbannog had neglected to level up her blacksmith crafting class in favor of getting her samurai level to ninety. She was also looking forward to new skills for the animal trainer class and so she leveled that up as well, but nope. There were no new things for animal trainers in the horizon. When it came to crafting, she was more interested in cooking nice things that would probably make people happy to hang out with her but that was a no-go too. All people wanted to do, despite saying that they valued socialization more than anything else, was to kill every damn living thing within their line of sight. And so, blacksmithing it is. Because hey, even if the other adventurers did not want to have their stuff crafted by her, then she could at least make her own stuff rather than rely on someone else. With a level 90 weapon, she could probably zantetsuken Londiunium all the way to hell and back again. Goal unlocked! Time to complete: two months! That aside, Caerbannog’s mind drifted back to the here and now. And where was that here and now? Grain Isle, a village of landers. She wasn’t even sure what kind of bad wind made her go all the way out of Londinium just to level of her crafting class but hey, it was a nice change of scenery. Due to a quest that she undertook before, the clouds of seagulls and hordes of young sahaugin rarely visited the isle anymore. It was mostly a peaceful village...except in the evenings, apparently. Caerbannog slightly doubted her judgment when she stepped into Grain Village around dusk. The place was a party waiting to get worse- were these people high? Probably not. They were just drunk. It seemed that the newly-opened pub, The Midnight Bell, had changed the local culture within just a week of being in business. The people of Grain Village were reserved, diligent merchants and crafters by day- party animals by night. Maybe this wasn’t the place for little Caerbannog... maybe she should just turn around and- Oh, who am I kidding? Caerbannog’s gonna get wasted! WHOO! -right after she finishes her blacksmithing stuff. The samurai mustered up all her self-control as she walked into the Midnight Bell. Drunks, drunks all around. Whoo! But anyway, she looked around for a man in a red suit and black tie. Specifically, a gentleman werecat with green fur who went by the name of Sir Charles. He was a patron of the Midnight Bell and had put up a request in Londinium for a blacksmith who could restore his recently-purchased ancient metal armor. A green werecat in a red suit was not difficult to miss, and so Caerbannog soon made her way to the quest giver. “May I help you, little one?” asked the cat person as soon as the samurai stepped in front of him. Caerbannog frowned, but he was a kitty so he was forgiven. The frown turned to a wide smile, because hiding her smile was such a crime, as the girl tried hard not to snatch up the mug of whatever alcoholic drink that the werecat was chugging down. “I saw the quest. I’m a blacksmith,” she simply said. “HAH! Funny!” Sir Charles laughed as he drank down the rest of his ale. Caerbannog’s expression remained the same, and so the werecat reconsidered his choice of words, “Truly?” The green kitty was also an adventurer, and so he pulled up his interface to check Caerbannog’s information. The race was hidden, but the level, guild and name were displayed. A Level 90 adventurer? There was such a thing already? Sir Charles looked down at Caerbannog; one eyebrow raised. If anyone else had done that, the samurai would have punched a hole through his gut, but Sir Charles was a kitty so he was forgiven. “I see... well,” the cat began, “I need an ancient metal armor restored, as the quest described. However, since it had its antique valued, it cannot be reforged or anything like that.” Caerbannog took a seat beside the werecat and nodded her head every now and then. “I just need the thing polished and made to look rather... not so drab,” Sir Charles continued, “Let’s go over there, shall we?” The fluffy adventurer then stood up and walked towards a well-lit corner with a wide couch, near the bar. He spoke with its occupants for a while, handed some gold over to those landers and sat merrily on the couch as soon as they moved to an empty table a little way off. “Here it is,” Sir Charles then took the armor out of his inventory and propped it up on the floor beside the couch. The armor was incomplete and only had the upper body and gloves, and it really as quite the mess with rust and dirt everywhere. But upon closer inspection, Caerbannog noticed some intricate designs along the gloves and around the neck area of the breastplate. The joinings were also well-made and seemed sturdy enough at first glance. She was not sure if it really was ancient or just dirty, but it was a nicely-forged piece of armor that deserved a better condition. While the blacksmith was inspecting the item, the bar to their side was starting to get even busier. Although there was a bartender, anyone who knew what they were doing could pretty much do whatever with the Midnight Bell’s resources. The people of Grain Village were not picky anyway- they just want to have fun! And if getting drunk does not count as ‘fun’, then surely Caerbannog would punch someone in the gut. Ah, the feeling of getting your brain so addled that there was no room for reason. As for any brewers who came by, anyone who did a decent enough job at getting the patrons drunk and merry could get the tips that the people handed over. Perhaps some adventurers could try their hand at getting the party into a crazier state; the dwarf was away somewhere in the highlands, probably freezing his balls off. With him out of the picture, perhaps it was a job for Superwoman. Or Elkeid.

[Elkeid]

"Which one should I wear, Sorrel? Le Disko or Anarchy Belt?" Elkeid was trying on outfits behind her wall, which had yet to ascend to something glorious, like not a room divider. Le Disko was armor that looked like clubbing clothes, while Anarchy Belt was just some slutty vanity wear with a top made of belts, a pair of hot pants, and knee high boots. It had a long coat, too, which did help to cover up the back, but the damn thing was too warm for this kind of weather. "I think Le Disko would be better," she said, cutting the young werecat off. "It's much cooler and classier, you know? The Midnight Bell is classy." People in that bar often showed up in nicely tailored suits and dresses, from what she had seen of it. There was of course those who did not, but Elk wanted to be one of the fancier people. Looking like a tramp would simply not do.

"Why are you even going out tonight, and there of all places?!" Sorrel suddenly blurted before Elk could retreat behind the wall to change. "Can we at least go somewhere nice together for a change, mum?"

Elkeid squinted at the boy. "I'm an adult, Sorrel, and I like to party from time to time. I've stayed home for over two weeks, crafting. I would like to go out and have a chat with a fellow or gal that doesn't involve big explosions, jello, or matchbox cars. You know what? Go to your room. I'm so done with you right now." She was mostly cranky over not having a drop of alcohol for nigh on three weeks. Their landlord had a strict policy against drinking in the home, and had requested that any and all activities related to it be done outside of his home. Elk figured that it would be easier to just leave town for a bit and rub elbows with the people of Grain village. She would even rent a room for the next day, to sleep off whatever hangover she might incur. Hell, if she had fun, she would even stay for a few more days.

Sorrel stomped off in a little huff, leaving Elk to her own devices. The woman went through the hassle of getting dressed for the third or fourth time, and applied all of her available pieces of jewelry, particularly the gorgeous red jewel that typically hung from her neck. She even applied her prayer beads, and after a moment of quiet contemplation, wrapped her scarf around her shoulders. It was a little warm out, but whatever coolness the bar might possess could be stifled with Bloody Stream. It was also a fashionable piece, so why not wear it?

The night was still young when she hired a small cart and buggy to take out to the Thames Coastline, and unbeknownst to her, a small werecat decked out in a dusty, grey suit and matching fedora was hitching a ride on a thin board beneath the cart. Sorrel's eyes flickered with mischief as the cart left London, his forcibly adopted mum oblivious to his presence. It was the perfect crime, and even if the cat looked like a kid, it wasn't like most people here carded for age. He could claim he was in his sixties and they would serve him - or so he thought, anyway.

When Elk got off the cart, Sorrel dropped down and crouched behind a wheel, waiting and watching his mum's long legs trail off in the opposite direction. In the dark, Sorrel blended right in. People sometimes confused him with a real cat if he was going about on all fours, like he was doing right now. He stalked Elkeid like he would stalk a mouse, carefully skirting around the paths of others, and ducking behind taller Adventurers or barrels for cover. Elkeid had no idea that she was being followed! She walked with her head held high and her back straight, her hips performing a very slight twisting motion.

A few of the men were watching the tall woman's romp as she walked into the Midnight Bell. She could feel their eyes on her, but paid them no mind. Small fries. They were all small fries, and none of them struck he fancy. They could look at and admire her assets as much as they liked; touching was utterly forbidden for those of their like. That, and she had just spotted a very familiar (and short!) figure among the crowd. It was a lovely coincidence to meet Caer here, though she had no idea who her gentleman friend was. The green furred werecat in a red suit reminded Elkeid of Sinterklaas.

"Hello there, Caer," she cooed as she came to a stop beside the couch with the… very ancient looking armor set. She glanced at the werecat, to Caer, to the armor, and then back to Caer again when she saw the Samurai's level. Holy hell. Someone had been busy. Elkeid was impressed, though she could not say she had the same drive to pump her main class up that high. Gaming was still a very new thing to her, and designing a room or making works of art had caught her fancy. She should probably grind her Artisan level up more, seeing as how they were no longer restricted to making level twenty things with those hard to grab tools. "People take commissions in bars now? Color me interested," she jested.

Somewhere behind her, Sorrel had managed to slip in and was now crouched under a table, his invisible tail swishing around his ankles. Oh, she was so busted. Or not really? Sorrel really had no idea what he was going to do now that he was here. Oh well. That was the beauty of improvisation.

coded by benetnasch of THQ / ET

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Muse:
Glory and Gore

Notes:
/mews

Tags:
@dindeen

Words:
974

[Deleted]

500 words		Don't Read It Out Loud
Such intricate designs. Caerbannog was lost in her thoughts as she sat on the floor in front of the thing and inspected the sad-looking armor. She took out a brush, one that was used to dust polishing material onto metal, and used it to unearth what seemed to be text that was engraved onto the armor. There was something familiar about it... as if she’d seen it before... back in college. Wait, college?! Caerbannog took another close look at the armor, this time even closer than before. It was so close that her nose almost touched the metal, and Sir Charles seemed rather worried by that display. As for the blacksmith, she figured out what the engraving was. It was a Latin phrase. The blacksmith backed away from the armor. Of all the things that she’d seen in movies, something written Latin was the most ominous one. No way Caerbannog was going to try to get that translated, and she would not read it either. All she knew was that the engraving was done in Latin. Looking at the armor, it did not seem evil at all so the phrase was probably a protection spell or a dedication to the owner and its family, but the wolf-hair was not going to test her luck. She’d seen that one movie where people read from a book and someone got snatched away by the tentacled trees. And then they all died in the end. “Uhm...” the samurai, just then, was torn between telling the werecat about her findings or just keeping it to herself. If the engraving was done in Latin, that meant one of two things: the armor was made recently by one of the blacksmith adventurers, since landers had a different kind of ancient language. Or, adventurers had already been spirited into Elder Tale way before Caerbannog and her generation arrived. Either way, it would be a mind-blowing revelation... and so the girl kept it to herself. Her quest was to clean the armor, not to pry about in Sir Charles business or delve into the history of the item. She was there to do just that- -and so Elkeid’s arrival was a pleasant distraction. Caerbannog had dusted off about half of the armor’s breastplate and she was set to finish the other half soon. The gloves would be easier to work on so she could reserve that for later. Her priority was to remove the earth and ground from the armor, but Elkeid! “Helloooooooo!” the wolf-hair looked up at the familiar woman. She was dressed maturely, as usual. Caerbannog would’ve probably dressed the same way if she wasn’t so... uh, lacking. That aside, the patrons really began to pour in after Elkeid and her invisible stalker Sorrel arrived. The wolf-hair looked over to the bar; maybe she should buy a drink now before the line was longer than the road to Sarum. Just one drink would be really nice... “NO!” the samurai shook her head profusely, “Must clean armor first! Drinking after!”

[Elkeid]

Elkeid positioned herself near one end of the couch, leaning down to rest her arms against it, watching as Caer tinkered with the dirty and old armor. She lightly bit the inside of her cheek to suppress a smile at the girl's cheerful greeting and apparent longing for alcohol. Knowing how drunk Caer could get, it was really for the best. Elk remembered all too well of what the Samurai was capable of when she was intoxicated, like threatening people with violence if they failed to follow through in card games, or breaking down and revealing some apparent mommy issues in the middle of a crowded bar. You know - typical stuff.

She glanced over at a table, from where she thought she saw a dark shadow lurking, but it turned out to only be the flapping corner of some table cloth. "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy," she teased. She pushed herself away from the couch, about to saunter up to the bar and order herself something cool, refreshing, and mildly alcoholic to sip on; she was not the one performing a job, so why should she sit and suffer?

The woman got as far as two long strides, before a commotion sounded near the middle of the room. Two Landers, one male and one female were caught up in some kind of conflict with each other. The male was the aggressor, and the female was the cringing victim in this mess. Her (possible) boyfriend was red faced from drink, and baring his teeth at her like some kind of rabid animal. At their feet was an ashtray, broken clean in half.

"Stupid woman! What a freaking scatterbrain," he growled as he reached out and seized her roughly by the wrist.

The woman, a tiny little thing with a great mop of curly blonde hair, whimpered and jerked her head back. "I'm sorry, docta! I'm sorry!"

"Musses my hair." he continued, seemingly oblivious to his partner's cries. "Pick that mess up, ya little slut." He yanked on her arm, pulling her up onto the tips of her toes. How she was expected to pick up the broken ashtray was beyond Elk, but that ass had to be stopped before he caused an even bigger ruckus.

"I'm sorry, docta! I'm sorry," the little woman cried out over and over again. Her mascara was running down her cheeks as tears leaked from her eyes, turning her into a pathetic little display.

The man just raised his hand to backhand her, and would have sent her small figure crashing to the ground if Elk had not stepped in. "Huh?! Who the hell are you," he snapped as he drunkenly whirled around to meet his assailant. "Can't you see I'm disciplining my woman here?!" He shook the small woman's arm, causing her to squeak out in pain. "Just who the hell do you think you are?!"

'The person who is going to drop kick your rude ass to the moon.' She sure as hell would have done so, had they not been in a safe zone. Elkeid did tighten her grip on the man's wrist, enough so that it was his turn to yelp, this time through a pale face.

"Don't you hurt him! Leave him alone! He's a docta!" The little woman fell silent when Elk gave her a look that said "I'll knock you flat on your ass if you don't shut up."

"Look what she did to my ashtray!" Was he… Oh God. Those were tears dripping from eyes. "She broke it! This was a graduation gift from my great grand pappy! And now it's goooone." His face twisted into the ugliest one Elk had ever seen, tears and snot flowing shamelessly down his face. He lowered his head and buried it into his girlfriend's hair, leaving goblets of snot and tears in the woman's golden locks. Elkeid wanted to vomit.

She yanked her hand free in disgust. "If I repair your ashtray, while you calm down and stop making such a fuss?" The many people in the bar who had ceased what they were doing to eavesdrop suddenly filled the quiet room with a soft roar, pretending to go about their business. Most of them were not very subtle with their people watching, however.

"My ashtraaaaaaay boo hoo hoooooo~."

Elkeid scooped up the broken pieces and quickly stepped away, back to where Caer was sitting. She could not believe that she had offered to do this, but if it kept the buffoon from cold clocking his girlfriend, so be it. "What a bunch of bullshit." What the hell was wrong with Landers?

coded by benetnasch of THQ / ET

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Muse:
Your Woman

Notes:
Boy, you can't play me that way~.

Tags:
@dindeen

Words:
777

[Deleted]

505 words		Mixed Up
The blacksmith’s mind drifted off to that time when they were Kings and when they ventured to the Land’s End. It truly was something unforgettable... probably. Actually, the wolf-hair forgot about what happened mostly because she actually got drunk. And it was not a happy drunk, it was an I-don’t-even-know-what-happened kind of drunk. Was that how Kumori coerced the samurai into dating and then marrying him? Prooobably. And now, back to you, Mr.Armor. A stubborn piece of solid earth was stuck on the side of the breast plate, and Caerbannog had to stick her nose close to the thing to see how much damage it had done. It would not bode well for her reputation as a blacksmith if she pulled or pushed too much on the armor and accidentally dented it. The wolf-hair took a small metal file and use it to poke at the piece of earth without touching the rest of the armor, and with a bit of repeated poking, the offending piece fell apart and left the armor finally. “Now, to finalize cleaning and then, I will polish it!” the samurai took out another brush, this one finer than what she’d used before. In the other hand, she had a cleaning cloth. Simple tools, yes, but it was a blacksmith’s eyes and handiwork that would make the difference. As she bent back down to rub the armor clean, the samurai heard a commotion behind her. She was in a pub and so the girl thought nothing of it, until finally the man’s voice and horrible accent got to her. She would have thrown a chair at him if not for the presence of Elkeid who apparently had the situation under control. Around the same time, the people at the bar thought to pour in all at the same time and order drinks in succession. The poor bartender, left alone by some of the brewers who helped him earlier, was so confused that he mixed up some of the orders. And what was worse than a drunk? A drunk who gets the wrong drink. “Gods damn it!” said a man in a suit whose clothing was better than his personality, “I ordered whiskey with cola! Not rum with cola!” “I-I’m sorry, Sir. I must have mixed up-“ the poor bartender tried to explained, but the drink was almost immediately thrown to his face and the glass shattered on the floor at his feet. “I’m paying good money for this!” screamed the man, though actually he wasn’t... the Midnight Bell was not as pricy as one would think, despite being the only establishment of its kind in the area. It seemed that the man’s anger was contagious, for near the bar a fight erupted between two addled men. A loud crash followed as they bumped against a stone statue of a man carrying a bell, no doubt the reference to the pub’s name. Caerbannog momentarily looked at the chaos around her but she quickly returned to her work, while Sir Charles sighed and shifted in his seat.

[Elkeid]

Honestly. Just what was up with these Landers, anyway? Elkeid sighed as she turned the two pieces of the broken ashtray around in her hands. She could not shake the feeling that the two of them were some movie reference, but that was not what bothered her the most. It was the fact that there were couples like that in the real world, and while she had never been in an abusive relationship, it felt all too real for her. Oh well. It wasn't really any of her concern, and they were just Landers.

Elkeid took a seat beside Caerbannog, and after setting the pieces down took out a single, largish stone. While the original ashtray appeared to be crated from clay, it would probably be best to replace it with something less likely to break, and would also serve as a perfect blunt instrument to bash that asshole doctor's head open. Some abused women did have a tendency to snap, and Elk would applaud the little blonde pouf for finally standing up to herself, even if it involved a bit of night digging.

She took out her carving tool and went to work on carving a new, sturdier ashtray for the man. He was so drunk that he should not notice the difference between this and the old one, which was thankfully rather simple in design. There was a carving of the Ouroboros encircling the outside of the ashtray, its head and tail interlocking with each other on one side. The ashtray itself was the easiest part; the actual trouble and care came from detailing the serpent's head and tail, as well as adding in the key details. If she messed up too much, the man might notice something was off with his ashtray.

A loud crash, caused by some fighting idiots, almost screwed with Elk's concentration. The hand that was holding the carving tool twitched, leaving a very fine dash on the serpent's nose. A vein above Elkeid's right eyebrow pulsed in irritation. The woman turned around to spot the brawlers, and in one fluid motion, her arm shot out and stretched like silly putty as she activated Zoom Punch. The man standing nearest to the toppled statue was seized and dragged back to the seated woman. "I will break your neeping legs if you break something else in this bar," she hissed through taut lips.

The man staggered back, whimpering in confusion and muttering something about how he can't be treated that way. "Bring me that statue," she commanded. The man, still grumbling under his breath, tottered off like a shamed grade school student to complete his task. Sorrel, still lurking around the bar, ducked beneath a rather comfy armchair to avoid detection.

Elkeid worked to fix the small imperfection on the serpent's face, and then fleshed in the rest of the details. By the time she was done, the poor drunk was back, panting heavily and placing the statue beside her. The statue was nicked in a few places, but otherwise fine - except for the fact that it was now missing a head. Elk set the now completed ashtray aside, and pulled another stone from her inventory. She came out here to have a good time, not to run a free repair service. The bartender better give her a complimentary drink for this.

coded by benetnasch of THQ / ET

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Muse:
Go

Notes:
Words.

Tags:
@dindeen

Words:
558

[Deleted]

530 words		Drinks All Around
With the pub steadily growing louder around her, Caerbannog’s concentration was slowly being cut up and split into a million tiny pieces. She did not like that. As for Sir Charles, well he seemed annoyed but the werecat was probably used to the loudness of the pub since he was a patron. It was no library but some people could be a bit less obnoxious, thought the samurai. She glanced over to the bar and its nervous bartender, no doubt worried that the damaged statue would be cut from his pay. In hopes of appeasing the monk Elkeid who had so kindly offered to fix the damage statue, the bartender took out a bottle of one of the rarer drinks in the pub. He put some of the applejack in a nice little cocktail glass with a bit of lime juice and grenadine syrup. “Some Jack Rose, Miss?” the tender asked the monk when he offered the drink to her; while the rest of the pub’s patrons grumbled at the bar, “An adventurer taught me to mix it. He left a bottle of applejack for me to use.” Said poor bartender was soon not so poor anymore for a group of sober adventurers walked in. Brewers by the looks of it and they saw the pub as their new training ground. They were just very low leveled crafters though, so the lander tender’s Jack Rose was probably better than anything that they could make. The only unfortunate thing about the tender’s cocktail was that he put a wee bit too much syrup in it. Addled drunks would probably not notice, but people with more refined taste might call him on it. But enough about drinks... that just makes Caerbannog want to abandon her work so that she can party. No, work hard first, party hard later. With some careful scrubbing, even the grooves of the armor’s designs had been rid of earth. Now it was time for polishing. However, the blacksmith could not use the standard metal polish approach for the ancient armor still had to look, well, ancient. Instead, she just took to rubbing the metal with her cleaning cloth. The remaining very thin layers of dirt soon clung to the softer material and left a filthy mark on its once pristine surface. Time to bring out a new cleaning cloth then. While Caerbannog continued to work on the armor, Sir Charles walked up to the bar and ordered some drinks. Would the samurai finally be able to get drunk?! “Drink’s on me,” the werecat said when he returned with a cool glass of something and put it near the working blacksmith. The wolf-hair would have been very pleased if not for the fact that, the drink which could be mistaken for vodka and gin due to its clarity turned out to be de-spirited soda. Someone had left the bottle open for too long, and now Caerbannog had the icky taste of bad limes and carbon-less carbonated water in her mouth. She would have throw the thing at Sir Charles’ face, but instead the samurai just looked at the green beast crossly before she turned back to her work.

[Elkeid]

It was as she had wished – the bartender was coming over with a cocktail glass. He did not stop at Caerbannog or the werecat, but near Elk. The tip of the Monk’s tongue massaged her upper lip as she eyed the orange drink in the bartender’s hand. Was that – it was! She could tell from the scent alone. It was apple jack, with some syrup and a hint of… lime juice? It was hard to tell with her nose alone. She would have to taste the drink, and not just rely on wishful thinking.

Elkeid lost all interest in the statue as she reached up for the drink, and cupped it between the palms of her hands to lightly sniff it. Delightful. She was also cruising for a solid drink or two, and this was just the perfect appetizer for a woman who loved the taste of a nice appletini. The poor bartender, on the other hand, seemed nervous and anxious for Elk’s approval. The woman cocked an eyebrow at him, but took a small sip of the cool liquid. Not bad. It wasn’t superb, either, but it was definitely drinkable. She nodded, eyes now narrowed into slits. "This is good. Thank you."

The bartender gave a sharp bow of his head. ”No no! Thank you for offering to fix the statue!” He left with a great deal of relief, a little pep in his step as he repositioned himself at the bar. Soon after, Caer’s feline friend went off to order drinks. Elkeid took another sip of hers, and set it down to focus on her work. It simply would not do to get drunk right before she could get started on the statue.

She placed a large block of stone in front of her, and after getting a good look of the complete statue in a nearby portrait, began sculpting away. Sir Charles returned at some point, with a drink for Caer. Judging by the Samurai’s reaction, though, she was not too pleased by it. Experience had taught her that a good drink did not last long in Caer’s presence, but this one was being neglected. Elkeid would have demanded something better. What good was a free drink when it sucked?

The statue’s head replacement was turning out well, at least. Elkeid turned away from Caer and the headless statue to reach for her drink, and when she was done noticed something odd about Caer’s. It was gone, and without the sound of crashing glass. Had someone come by to collect it? The Monk just shrugged, oblivious to the pale werecat child sitting crouching beside Caer. Sorrel was playing a very dangerous game of hide and seek. He took a long sip of the drink while making eye contact with Caer, and scurried off to hide behind the couch Sir Charles was sitting on.

Elk, her lap now buried in stone shavings, was enthralled by her work – as well as the desire to engage in some heavier drinking once she was done. A rough outline of the head was already done. All she had to do now was smooth and refine the features. Just a little… Hold on. Why did the head have cat ears? Elkeid sighed and carved them straight off. Apparently she still had Sorrel on the mind. She double checked her work, and thankfully found no other catlike features. Anyway, the head was mostly done. All she needed to do now was attach it… somehow. Glue would be a good start.

She had a thin tube of glue in her pocket, though it might not be enough. It meant that the barkeeper or owner would have to go over the statue again to make sure the head was adequately glued on. Elk dabbed the underside of the head with glue, and rose to her feet to stand in front of the statue. She carefully set the head down, but did not let go of it after adjusting. Having little glue and dealing with something heavy like this meant she had to make sure it dried a bit before she could trust it to stay on its own.

A few of the male patrons casually made their way closer to the statue, pretending to eye Elk’s work in fascination. One or two of them, however, were stealing glances at the Monk’s butt and figure. Had she been in the mood to go through the trouble of crafting another head, Elk would have tossed the heavy stone in their direction.

coded by benetnasch of THQ / ET

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[attr="class","alkaid"]

Muse:
God From The Machine

Notes:
Dwoop.

Tags:
@dindeen

Words:
753

[Deleted]

390 words Elkeid		One Werecat, Two Werecats...
Due to the presence of the group of brewers, the pub grew even wilder and more drunk. But this time, they had taken to dancing instead of fighting. Much better, Sir Charles thought, and then he hopped off his chair and asked one of the giggly women to dance. Was it an adventurer or lander? I don’t even know. Seemed as if she took a fancy to the large talking cat and so a dance was underway. Caerbannog huffed at the sight... the werecat had left a bad drink for the blacksmith who was working on his armor, and now he was having fun on his own. The wolf-hair would have remained fixated on that if not for the other werecat that appeared nearby. Sorrel. This one seemed like an adventurer like herself. When the smaller werecat took her drink, Caer did not mind at all. He could finish that horrible soda and she would not make a fuss. It was odd though that he seemed to be hiding, or at least he was staying out of the most obvious line of sight of anyone beyond Caerbannog. The blacksmith blinked a few times at the little werecat while her hand steadily cleaned the armor with a new cleaning cloth. Sorrel then darted over to the back of Sir Charles chair but the green cat had already vacated it. “Midori-nyan?” the samurai called out to Sir Charles, “There’s a little kitty here. Is this your kid?” The first thought that Caerbannog had in mind was that Sorrel was Sir Charles’ kid... because werecat. She then slapped her own forehead and remembered that they were just players stuck in their chosen race, so the two could not have been related at all. She continued to clean the armor until it was all done and ready to be inspected by the green werecat. By that time, Sir Charles’ dance partner was all tired out from dancing and found her way back to her table while the green werecat happily strutted up to his chair. He had not heard Caer’s question, but he did notice the other werecat there. “Oi. This is no place for children,” Sir Charles said as he stood over the smaller werecat, then he blinked and looked at Caerbannog, and then at Sorrel again, “Except when they have to work on ancient armor.”

[Elkeid]

At the sign of sudden dancing and carousing, Elkeid tensed up like a cat perched on a thin rail above a pack of wild dogs. It really would not do if one of these clowns were to bump into her or the statue. The guys smirking and giggling around her broke away, though, to go harass some women who weren't trying to set a stone head on a statue's neck. If she had to be honest though… she kind of envied them and their carefree nature. Getting smashed and having a good time was on her agenda, until things started breaking.

Elkeid turned her head slightly as Caer called out to… was the werecat's name really Midori? That seemed like a feminine name, and he was male. Or so she thought. What kept Elk's attention, however, was the mention of a "little kitty." While Caer could just be teasing the werecat while pointing out some stray kitten, Elkeid was more inclined to believe that it was likely someone she knew. Call it paranoia all you want, but she had learned not to underestimate her furry little companion.

The head was done setting by the time Sir Charles evacuated the dance floor, giving Elk the freedom to sneak a glimpse of this so called "little kitty." What she saw was a green werecat lightly reprimanding a much smaller black werecat. Sorrel, still crouched behind Sir Charles' chair, made a face and dropped Caer's glass onto the floor. "BLUH! So nasty! Nasty nasty soda!" The little werecat fell to the side, rubbing at his mouth with his small paws. "What kind of soda was that?!"

"The kind that isn't for children," Elkeid snapped, hands placed on her hips.

"Why are you both yelling at me?!" Sorrel's fur bristled as he gesticulated wildly, and pointed a finger at Caer. "And and and it's hippopotamus… hippo… hypocritical to let her drink, too! She's like… fifteen!" If he was trying to throw the attention off of himself, he was not doing a very good job of it.

"Sorrel, why are you even - how did you get here?"

But Sorrel was already gone - sort of, anyway. He was trying to hide behind Caer, which simply would not do. "I just came out here to have a good time, but I'm feeling so attacked right now!" Whatever the reason, he seemed to think that the high leveled Caer would protect him.

"Sorrel, stop that. Can't you see they're in the middle of conducting business - oh for neeps sake." Sorrel, now clinging to Caer like a frightened kitten, was purring. The cute routine did not work for her, but she could not vouch for Caer.

coded by benetnasch of THQ / ET

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[attr="class","alkaid"]

[newclass=.alkaid]background-color:#050505; border: 2px solid #050505; border-radius: 5px; overflow: hidden; width: 100px; height:6px;[/newclass]

[attr="class","alkaid"]

Muse:
Artificial Nocturne

Notes:
Bloop.

Tags:
@dindeen

Words:
450

[Deleted]

475 words		Let's Drink
“I’m twenty,” Caerbannog interjected when Sir Charles referred to her as a child and when the smaller werecat said that she was fifteen. It turned out that she did make a mistake about the identity of the kitten; it was related to Elkeid, not to Sir Charles. Were they mother and son? Didn’t sound like it... perhaps siblings? Either way, they were speaking to each other in a very familiar manner so the samurai did not butt into their conversation. While the monk and the kitten were conversing over the loudness of the pub, Sir Charles walked over to the blacksmith and inspected her finished work. “Wonderful! It looks more presentable now... and without having lost its antique value,” the werecat purred and then he stored the armor in his inventory, “Now, what would you like as a reward? I have some amount of gold due to adventuring and crafting at the Sarum Camp before they advanced close to Sarum City.” Caerbannog was about to stand up and order stuff for herself at the bar, but the black kitten’s clinging and purring could not be ignore. The samurai looked at the kid, obviously named Sorrel, and then she looked at Elkeid. And then at Sorrel again; finally, up at Sir Charles. “I’m kind of stuck, so please get me a glass of rum and a tall glass of milk with ice,” the wolf-hair said while trying her best to keep a straight face. While the green werecat was away and doing some internal monologue about whether he should give some rum to the seemingly-teenage girl who apparently was twenty years of age already, Caerbannog stared at Elkeid and let an awkward silence permeate. She then looked down at Sorrel, and then up at the monk once again. “Your...” Caer glanced down at the purring werecat, and then at Elkeid...again, “- brother?” It would have been rude to assume that the monk was his mother; she just assumed that he was her sibling, and if Elkeid was the mother instead then she would be flattered, right? From the looks of things, the woman treated the little werecat just as she treated everyone else so the conversation did not surprise her. Caer did question Sorrel’s clinginess though. Did his mother, whoever she was, not teach him to not cling to strangers? The samurai herself could use the same advice though because for a moment, she thought of petting, hugging and squeezing the kitten. Because kitten. “I think I...” the wolf-hair’s eyes darted over to Sir Charles who finally returned with her order, “...need a drink.” The blue-eyed samurai carefully reached for a glass of rum and then she quickly drank down a fourth of it. IT BUUUUURNS! “Calm down and drink your milk,” Caer said to the purring werecat as she gently patted his head, “Lactose intolerance doesn’t exist here.”

[Elkeid]

Her hands would have been enough to suffice, but Elkeid really wanted a crowbar to pry Sorrel off of Caer. Why was he being so damn obnoxious? They may have been in public, but that wasn't going to stop her from punishing him. It didn't help that Caer was scrutinizing them, either. Oh, the things she must have thought. Elkeid had an image to maintain, and once again Sorrel was ruining it. Elkeid absentmindedly tapped the head of the statue behind her, trying to think of the best way to diffuse the situation - without causing a scene. It seemed Caer was quicker to act, though.

"My… brother?" What a lovely way to end an awkward silence. "No, I'm not his sister. I'm his-"

"MUM," the little werecat interjected. Goddamn it, Sorrel, not right now!

"We are not related." She shook her head at the werecat, and then at Caer. "He sort of… adopted me a few months ago, and I never managed to shake him." Sorrel seemed to purr louder at this. What part of him honestly thought that this sort of behavior was acceptable? Being called a sister was preferable to being called a mother, though. Now half the bar was staring at her, and she was pretty sure she had heard the word "MILF" tossed about. Goodbye, street cred. "Just shut up and drink your milk, Sorrel," she snapped at the cat.

Sorrel, placated with the glass of milk being handed to him, pulled away from Caer and took a long sip from the glass. When he lowered the glass, he had a great big milk mustache. Well, at least he and Caer were enjoying themselves. "…I'm going to go get something strong and incredibly alcoholic," she stated before making her way off to the bar. Sorrel was giggling and showing off his stash to Caer.

She nudged too drunken idiots out of the way, and slammed the palm of her left hand into the bar top. "I don't care how it tastes. I want a drink with equal parts vodka, tequila, and rum. Add in a little peach schnapps for flavor, please." The bar tender nodded, and with trembling hands rushed to fill the Monk's order.

He placed a large glass in front of her, with slightly orange liquid, thanks to the peaches. There was even a wedge of peach placed on the edge of the glass, and a fancy little umbrella. Elkeid carefully cradled the glass between her hands as she made her way back to Shorty and Shortier. She scoffed at Sorrel's glass of milk, and raised an eyebrow at Caer's rum. Without a word, Elkeid brought the glass to her lips, and leaned her head back to drink.

She pretty much chugged more than half of the glass down, not stopping to take a breather. "Woo." The drink was a little sweet, but it was also quite strong. Her head was spinning from drinking too much, and not having her Brewer passive anymore may have lowered her tolerance a tad. Elkeid pressed a finger to her forehead before downing the rest of her drink. Too strong. Too strooong. God, she had turned into a lightweight, hadn't she? She had to use Caer's little shoulders to stabilize herself, for Pete's sake. Now she only wished the floor would stop subtly tipping back and forth. That would be really helpful.

coded by benetnasch of THQ / ET

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[newclass=.alkaid]background-color:#050505; border: 2px solid #050505; border-radius: 5px; overflow: hidden; width: 100px; height:6px;[/newclass]

[attr="class","alkaid"]

Muse:
Artificial Nocturne

Notes:
Bluh.

Tags:
@dindeen

Words:
565

[Deleted]

520 words		Koneko-chan, Please.
From what Caerbannog had seen of Elkeid, she was not a woman who was easily shaken but it was easy to annoy her. Usually, the monk would wreck or suplex things if they did not go her way or if they said something that annoyed her; Sorrel was not getting wrecked OR suplexed despite his undeniably annoying status as a child. The samurai herself was a bit torn. She’d always liked kids because she never had a brother or a sister, only cousins who took care of her instead of the other way around. But then kids were also annoying, as she’d seen in the real world outside of her family circle. Sorrel seemed to be more like the latter. Who was to blame for that though? Children were only molded by their surroundings... how could you expect a child to eat his dinner when for years you kept referring to his food as a choo-choo train or an airplane? Trains and planes are NOT edible. “Mum?” Caer blinked at Sorrel until Elkeid negated what he said, “Adopted?” She was inclined to believe the monk whom she’d known for much longer a time, but then her experience with her own mother weighed in the back of her mind. Caerbannog still carried over some of her mum-issues from the real world, but she knew that anyone of any age could lie; a grandfather, a child... they could both lie. The samurai nodded along as Sorrel pulled some of his antics but she waited for the monk to return before she asked anything. By then, Sir Charles had gone back to the dance floor and almost bumped into Elkeid as she wobbled back to their little corner. “Need a nap?” the samurai pulled out her black rabbit plushie Kuromi and handed it to the monk, and then she turned to the little werecat, “Koneko-chan...” Caerbannog downed another mouthful of rum. Sometimes the truth was stranger than fiction, and there might be an incoming story. Or it could turn out to be a very normal day. Normal days were boring; better get wasted. “Sorrel,” she addressed him by his name and looked straight at the werecat , “How old are you and where are your parents?” That’s as blunt as the samurai could get without sounding too rude. If she had been questioning an adult that would have been accompanied by a punch through a wall or a glass smashed onto the floor. Sorrel walked, talked and seemed to be every bit a child though, so Caerbannog actually very slightly... just a wee bit... cared about his feelings. She did not actually care about the answer, but the samurai knew that the monk would get in trouble if the kid kept up his act. If Caer knew the truth, then she would be able to defend Elk- ah, who am I kidding. Caerbannog just wants an excuse to punch people’s faces. If they looked at the monk funny again as if she was neglecting her ‘son’, the samurai would have a quasi-acceptable reason to send them flying through the window. Well, another reason aside from rum.

[Elkeid]

Elkeid did not know why, but the pint sized Samurai was handing her… a plushie? A rabbit plushie? She was sure she had one of her own already, but she could hardly argue with the girl. For one, the plush rabbit was soft and kind of… cuddly. Two, it would also keep her hands busy and prevent her from going upside someone's head with her fists, though the rabbit could serve as a weapon in a pinch. Elkeid dropped into a chair, now wondering if it were possible to equip plush rabbits as fist weapons. Perhaps they could squeak, too? That would be fun!

Sorrel knitted his brow together in alarm as Elkeid let out a soft chuckle. Was she drunk already, or was she just being silly? He wanted to go over there and pester her, but the nice Samurai was still talking. "I'm ten," Sorrel said, somewhat uncertainly. He was used to being questioned, but these types usually threw him off. "My other mummies are…" The werecat scrunched his face up and lowered his head, droplets of milk falling from his ridiculous mustache and onto the floor. "Um… I dunno." He absentmindedly scuffed on foot on the ground. "Mummy Ellie was baking cookies, and mummy Fran was helping me set the game up. Then I fell asleep, and then… when I woke up…"

The Monk, who was still preoccupied with the bunny, almost dropped it when Sorrel began to wail. This wasn't the first time she had witnessed or heard someone burst into tears in the middle of a bar, but they had all been adults. Sorrel was just a little kid, and now his cup was falling, and would have hit the ground, had Elk not used Zoom Attack to snatch the cup out of the air. It was amazing that her reflexes were so good, despite how the world wanted to throw her off balance.

With both hands preoccupied, though, she could not reach out to stop Sorrel from wrapping his little arms around Caer and burying his face in her chest. "I want to see mummy Ellie and Fran again! I wanna go home! I don't wanna be a cat person anymore! I wanna ride my bike and play football with my fr-fr-friends!" With his face submerged in Caer's chest, the boy's sobs were somewhat muffled, but the damage had already been done.

The patrons nearest them were frowning, shaking their heads, and muttering among themselves. "Why is there a kid in here?" "Where are his parents?" "Someone shut that brat up!" Elk quickly sobered up as she stood up and moved towards the wolf and cat. She ignored the disapproving stares, and squatted beside Sorrel to hold out the rabbit plush to him.

The little cat lifted his head when Elkeid poked him, snatched the plush from her arms, and flung himself into her arms. "Why did you even follow me," she sighed as she rubbed his back.

"I was afraid you would leave me again!" Elk could hardly argue with that logic; she had frequently tried to ditch the kid in the past.

"Sorry about this," she said to Caer. Except for the Samurai and the older werecat gentleman (and ok, maybe the bartender who gave her a free drink), everyone else could go neep themselves. She glared over Sorrel's shoulder at a loud group of men. "TCH! I would never let my wife into a bar, let alone with our son!" "If she doesn't shut that kid up, I'll take my belt off and teach him a lesson myself!" The urge to cause an even bigger ruckus in the bar was really starting to appeal to Elkeid, but it was kind of hard to do that when there was a bawling kid in her arms. What a bunch of jerks - these guys were Adventurers, not Landers. Didn't they know how hard it could be on a kid to be separated from his parents? Show some compassion, damn it.

coded by benetnasch of THQ / ET

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[attr="class","alkaid"]

[newclass=.alkaid]background-color:#050505; border: 2px solid #050505; border-radius: 5px; overflow: hidden; width: 100px; height:6px;[/newclass]

[attr="class","alkaid"]

Muse:
Cry-Baby

Notes:
Brightened Sorrel's font.

Tags:
@dindeen

Words:
667

[Deleted]

430 words		I'M AN ADULT!
Caerbannog finished her drink while Sorrel told her his story. It sounded like the typical life of a child- whoa, whoa. The kitten is crying. THE KITTEN IS CRYING!? Did she say something wrong? What made him cry? The wolf-hair looked around the pub for some adult who could tell her what to do. It did not help at all when Sir Charles walked away and pretended not to know any of them. Out of the Bell he ran, and soon he was out of sight. The samurai still had a crying kitten in front of her but even with Elkeid there, the kitten just kept on wailing. Everyone else around her was saying some rude things too. At that point, Caerbannog had just gotten so confused. She wanted the child to stop, but she did not know how to make him stop. Obviously he did not have a mute button. The mean things that the other people were saying did not help. Between the wailing child and the annoyed drunks, and the alcohol in her head, Caerbannog could only think of one thing to do. The samurai stood up and went to the bar, ordered a shot of whiskey, drank it, and then she took out her sword. With one full swing, Caerbannog used Zantetsuken on a window and ended up destroying the whole wall. The people who sat close to it were only pushed away to the sides, but the wall itself was very much destroyed. The bartender ducked behind the bar and took the fixed statue with him, just to be sure that it would not get wrecked again. That was a rather odd thing to be worried about when the wall had just crumbled, but adults had weird priorities sometimes. Speaking of adults, Caerbannog was one of them but at the moment, she wasn’t acting like it at all. “He just wants to see his mum! Why are you all being mean?” the samurai yelled as she flipped a table right to the face of one guy who mumbled something about ‘stupid kids’, “And I’m not a kid! I’m an adult! AAAAAAAADULT!” The alcohol-addled samurai then pulled up her shirt and showed her undergarments to everyone present. “SEE?! I have BOOOOBS!” Caer flipped another table at a man who snickered, “And I have a husband! He’ll murderize you if you call me a kid again!” The samurai then stabbed her sword onto the floor and dove into Elkeid’s arms. “They’re so mean! I’m telling Ryuu-nii!” she sobbed, “UWAAAAAAAAA~n!” Now the monk had TWO kids to deal with.