Tavern Time

Western Weyr - Barnacle Bay Tavern
Though not an 'old' building, the Barnacle Bay still manages to look it though talent, skill, and clever decorating skills. Upon entering the building, one must go up a set of creaky stairs to the patron area where a heavy stone bar lines the entire far wall. This is where Fornes, a grey-haired, overweight, retired master seacrafter and salty old seadog (some frequents even joke pirate) serves up tankards of his imported, domestic, and (for the very brave)homemade brews. He's even known to welcome home crafters to send him some of their wares for sale. He's rude, crude, and rough, but a golden-hearted soul. Tables made of wood looking freshly picked up from sea are set around the small room where frequently the lazy smell of old pipes lingers and the tangy scent of alcohol. A short set of stairs along the right wall leads up to a loft overlooking the patron level where gaming tables are set up, so gamblers and dicers don't have to be worried about bumping shoulders with other folks. Deep, rich, mahogany-tinted wooden walls are layered in old paintings of ships, tapestries of storms at sea and the old 'shipfish' coming to the rescue of oldtimer sailors. Memorabilia from the olden days are kept behind dusty old cases, and for those with a keen eye, they'd find a veritable cornucopia of valuable bits and bobbles from days and ships long gone.

Upstairs, no matter what time of day it is, this sailors tavern is full of bustling activity. On this particular occasion a large black man can be heard as he throws the dice onto the craps table, a deep throated roar of victory as his numbers come up. "Another bottle!" He calls out loudly down to the bar.

At the next table over, a bunch of men have pulled up chairs for several hands of dragon poker. Khayetan's one of them, loose-limbed and easy with grins as he shuffles and deals for what's probably a second - or seventeenth hand. If some of the players are displeased with their spreads, they don't show it - and the ones who are pleased aren't saying anything, either. Bets are called, hits made and re-made. There's a lot of shuffling of feet from one of the players, but they remain otherwise calm, if wary.

A'di makes his way slowly into the tavern with his hands stuffed idly into his pockets, not even bothering trying to hide a yawn as he stumbles forward. "Sharding dragon," is grumbled in annoyance, shaking his head slowly, pausing as he looks around the tavern. "I forgot how noisy this place could be…" A book tucked under his arm is justled, clearly not going to get any use at the moment.

Bahron collects his winnings and prowls over to the balcony, tossing some marks down to the bar, more than is probably needed for what he's asked for but that's besides the point, he's paying for the service as well, as reluctant as it comes. Leaning back onto the barrier while he waits he settles his eyes on the poker game, not interrupting in the slightest, unless the person he's behind is going to get jittery about a huge black guy who could probably rip an arm off with his bare hands standing right behind him.

The bets move quickly; several players fold, leaving Khayetan and two others to size each other up. Cool as cucumbers, all take another card. The pool gets raised. This continues for another minute before one of the other contenders gives up with a groan, throwing his cards down and heading for the bar. "Another loss, " he says as tragically as one can, telling the bartender that he'll have whatever's handy. No preference, really. And then there were two.

A'di shifting in his spot to tuck the book under his arm, clearly not a place to read, but…making his way through the various tables, his eyes flickering over the people, listening to the cries as bets are made. Finally making his way to the bar to help himself to a seat. "Busy here, I never come down here too often…and now I remember why." There's a nervous laugh, rubbing at the back of his head to look over his shoulder at all the people.

"Thanks mon!" Bahron tells the server when he comes up and hands over the bottle, the big guy swiping it out of his hand, teeth aiming for the cork; which is pulled and spat out over the balcony to the bar below before his gaze settles on the game at hand, eyes examining the two that are left with a fairly extreme instensity.

Khayetan is determined to not have to concede defeat - or perhaps he's bluffing his way through the entire hand. Whichever the case may be, he keeps raising until his opponent starts to sweatdrop. Finally, the other man folds, declaring that he can't go any further and will the roguish player just show his sharding cards already? Smirking, the sailor reveals his cards — a half-decent hand, but certainly not worth the other contenders' stress. If only they had known. As the other men depart his table with some disgust, Khayet pulls his winnings together, flipping a quarter mark nonchalantly between his fingertips. All in all, a profitable day, which means he'll be feeling generous next. "Bring a drink to the — " and he waves a hand at A'di, " — that person. With the book. And the good-natured people who were playing with me. And take a drink to — " And he picks out the odd woman or two in the crowd, and Bahron, after a moment. "Him, too."

Lost in his own thoughts and whatever else is going through his head, A'di doesn't really seem to pay attention to the other people at the bar, a little frown pulling at his lips as he stares at a point of no importance. That is, until a drink is plopped in front of him, blinkblink. The drink is picked up, eyed at, and then tasted. As the barman points at Khaytan, A'di nods in greeting, "Err…thanks…not much of a drinker."

Bahron chuckles, a deep throated sound as he walks over to the other sailor. "I've got my own mon!" He calls out loudly as he slaps Khayetan on the back, it's a loud resounding noise and carries an awful lot of power behind it, on most normal men it's likely to have them face first in the table. "Thanks anyway though, give it to the runt at the bar." He holds up his own bottle before he wanders off with a big laugh, the bottle waved in their general direction before he saunters off outside.

Oh, one of those people. "Surely you can put it to good use anyway, " Khayetan says to A'di, raising his glass to him when it arrives with an amused grin. "Go take it to a lady. They love that, you know." Leaning back, he takes a deep swig of his drink, only to find himself the recipient of Bahron's back pound. Kohl-rimmed eyes widen dramatically as he lurches forward, glass skittering across the table and mouthful of alcohol spitting delightfully in the same direction in a spray of spittle. "Runt at the bar, " he repeats, half in a sing-song manner before twirling a finger vaguely in that direction. As such, he doesn't notice the other man's departure.

There's a slight twitch, a brow arching on the bluerider's forhead as he peers at Bahron. "Runt…at the bar?" Twitch. "Just because I'm short, doesn't mean I'm a runt." There's a quiet snort of annoyance, wrapping his arms over his chest, only to have his attention diverted to Khayetan, "A lady…" A'di laughs quietly in amusement, slowly shaking his head, "No, I don't think that would go over very well, but I'll drink it anyway." There's a quirk of A'di's lips.

Still recovering from nearly being faceplanted into the table, Khayetan nevertheless looks surprised at A'di's remark, hand shooting out to recover his glass with a satisfied look. "No? Which is it then, do you have a fair strumpet who doesn't like the drink, or are ye not keen on giving it to one?" There's a cheer from another table across the way as another game concludes, though judging by the people flopping over onto the table with small groans, it may have been one involving some heavy liquor. A fair amount of it, too.

A'di turns towards Khayetan, tilting his head slightly to the side, "While I haven't had much experiences with females, I do have someone else I might give it to, or share it with. Just a matter of he would be interested in the alcohol, I think he could use it with all the stuff he's been going through." There's a slow shake of his head and then curses under his breath, looking over his shoulder. "Sharding dragon." He quickly slips out of his chair, "I need to go remind Dalasith not to go talk to strangers or else he's going to get us into trouble again…you would think he would understand not to speak to random people by now." He shakes his head and quickly stalks out.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License