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 Posted: Mon Jan 23, 2012 2:35 am
The inn of the Prancing Pony was probably as old as some of the Royal Advisors who talked about fashion trends you could read about in musty books. Or, even, older. The floor was a deep Venetian red in colour, thick planks of wood that moaned with every footstep and groaned with every additional patron's weight added to it's burden. Each step, was, of course hindered by the sticky varnish that kept drunks upright when they fought gravity (often to their own loss) and found that footsteps had to be given with more than a passing fancy. The bar itself was dark mahogany, polished and dented to a painful gleam of history and smooth familiarity.
The place had seen better days, the faded beer posters on the walls were yellow even in the thin protective cases, from darkness and light, not even the protection had fully stood, and now the 'guiness- it's liquid bread' slogans had a quality of yesteryear about them. The Prancing Pony was squished between two heady streets of Lumena's heart- and more literally between a large stone law firm and an equally ageing post-office. The 'established since-' on the door was a burnished gold that had lost the actual date.
Saturday night was standing-room only in the pub. Ankles to elbows and hot as hell from all the excited body-mass. The pub consisted of two halves, two interconnected bars that the staff shimmied back and forth through. The right side had a small dancefloor and some booth seats for the food, the left side had a live band and plenty of stool-tables.
At the moment, there was a commotion in the men's bathroom. Humans and local Witches alike were causing a scene, which was all well and good, a scuffle had broken out between two extremely inebriated individuals and people had forgotten why the men's room had a bouncer standing between them and relief of the bladder. The music was still adding atmosphere to the din and the smell of garlic, cheap tap beer and stale pretzels was almost overpowering, especially if you had to vomit.
Especially if you foolishly, and stupidly had just eaten The Worm. You know the Worm. The dead thing at the bottom of the bottle of high-grade (only the best) tequilla- the thing that was supposed to prove your manliness beyond a doubt---
Finian Dumiere would do just about anything on a dare, but the uncontrollable urge to vomit was... well... his stomach wasn't churning but he was going to find a way to make it churn because right now he did not feel manly-- the worm had moved. It had been drowned in alcohol--- how had it moved? Of course he was desperately thinking his mantra of 'nerve reflexes, just get to the toilet and vomit, it'll be dead. totally dead' but he was worried he wasn't going to be able to puke. The thought of digesting an undead moving worm make him ill. Just not ill enough.
Fin squeezed past the brawlers with a grunt, vainly wondering if an elbow to the gut would help his stomach pick the right allegiance. His stomach owed it to him, it owed it to it's country. This was unpatriotic. As was the large, glaring behemoth between him and the ceramic throne.
"Men's toilets are closed."
"What do you mean closed?"
"Waiting for someone to come and take a look at it."
"I understand you have a job to do, and a fine one at that, I envy you the hard work and all but I really must use the water closet." Fin drew himself up to his full, rather uninspiring height, not up to being his usual dillying with the peasantry. "If you don't mind."
The man blinked then sighed and shook his head. "I do mind. Only the authorities are going in there."
Finian made a strangled noise. "You don't understand- this is important." I think my stomach is finally showing its loyalty to the father-brain. At the bouncer's insistent finality, he began searching the crowd for someone, anyone, who might assist in dealing with this oafish and cruel bouncer. How backed up could the system BE?
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Posted: Tue Jan 24, 2012 6:00 am
The commotion from the bar was loud, almost earsplitting. Theo sighed and wondered what he was doing here instead of going to curl in bed and sleeping. After all, it wasn't as if he couldn't do with the sleep. Being a restless sleeper, Theo rarely slept well unless he was given some tonic or something similar. But still, something had drawn him here, to this old bar in Lumena. He shuddered a little, staring at the aged, creaky sign that proclaimed it's name in garish red and yellow letters. The Prancing Pony. Ugh. A loud yell came from inside, followed by the sound of flesh and bone thudding against the floor. A bar fight was currently going on, no doubt. Theo winced mentally and pushed the door open gingerly.
The sign near the bar that declared it to be "Happy Hour" was nearly obscured by the mass of writhing bodies of people dancing - or at least, Theo deduced that was what they were doing. For all he knew, they could be having sex out there and he wouldn't be able to tell. It was too dark, there was too many people. Clearly this was the place to be on a weekend., judging by the thronging mass of people. Theo sighed and pulled his cloak tighter around himself, pushing his way through the gyrating mass of flesh towards the bar. People parted unwillingly, resenting this intrusion to their. movements. But Theo didn't care. He was here for a reason. Maybe it was him being nosy, but he wanted to know what was going on. He had heard something about a majin attack or something similar. But either way, someone had been hurt, there were rumours of a body having been carted away. Blood had been involved, that much he knew.
A mammoth of a man stood in the way of what must have been the toilets. His hulking figure was outlined by the lights coming from within the chamber that lay beyond reach. That must have been where the crime occured. Somehow he doubted he would get through, but it was worth a shot right? Slowly, Theo made his way towards the water closet, his blue eyes looking out for even the smallest hint. After all, even the littlest thing could be the last piece of the puzzle.
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Posted: Wed Jan 25, 2012 10:10 pm
Fin deduced that no help was forthcoming from the regulars around the bar, he could see that the bathroom door was partially ajar and someone had spilled tomato sauce on the ground, but beyond that there was a body in the way, perhaps, he hoped, the smell of the public lavatory would be enough to encourage his urge to disgorge. Finally he decided that no one in the crowd was going to assist him and it would be best if he just pulled rank.
"Alright, I hate to do this but-"
"Oh, Sir! Here! I've been guarding the scene for you." The bouncer stepped forward, almost barrelling Finian over as he spotted someone in the crowd, and with the gusto and import of someone who was in great awe.
Finian stumbled and found his footing, the tequila was starting to act on his knees so it took a little more effort than he expected, but after a brief tap to the nearest wall he was standing again. His sharp chartreuse eyes settling on the rather imposing figure behind him. Finian frowned. Who wore a cloak into a bar on a Saturday? It had stopped raining hours ago. Well, regardless. He gave the stranger a two fingered salute and took the presented opportunity to slip into the men's room.
He noted that someone had set the mechanic above the door so it didn't totally close, but regardless, he fled to the nearest stall. The princeling didn't take much notice of the state of the room, it was, aft-all, beneath him, but if he had he might have seen more than just the dingy white stacco and the dirty floor. What he had taken as tomato sauce was splashed in a few spots, and Fin had walked right through one of the trails in his rush to reach the ceramic throne. The toilet was full of evidence, evidence that his very presence was probably disturbing. Of course, that wouldn't have bothered Fin all that much anyway, since it wasn't like he had done it (or knew anything about investigating) although it it probably would have excited him a lot.
He locked the stall for good measure, since he didn't want anyone to see him regurgitating. The smell in here was pretty bad, awful infact, and he avoided inhaling for a moment before he remembered he /wanted/ to puke. How bad did he want to puke, that was the question... Fin stood, frozen before the toilet, unsure whether to force the issue or not. Now that he was here, he wasn't sure he could actually do it.
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