Elizabeth was not expecting a answer from Romus he could give her directions on where the barn is location is at. She sighs as she watches his wavy black hair that pass his shoulders out the front door. She did not mean to cause trouble as she walks behind the bar to face Sam. "What can I get you to drink stranger? Does anyone else wants a drink?" Elizabeth ask everyone in the tavern as she did not mean to scare a friend away again, hoping he would comeback soon or calm down a bit.

Sam looked up to the woman in the eyepatch a bit startled. He had not expected to strike up conversation, but this was just what he needed anyway.
"Eh...Rum" he said, the first alcoholic drink to pop into his mind. He wasn't sure as to what to order. Alcohol was strictly prohibited at Treadberry, so he had never really tasted it.
He extended his hand cautiously.
"Samuel. Samuel Osgood."

@Alisdragon911

"I'll take a double shot of cinnamon whiskey, neat, if you have any. Thank you Elizabeth." Max began to wonder if Liz was even in a state to be tending the bar. There is no way she could accurately pour a drink in her current state of inebriation, no matter how hard she tried to seem composed. He also wondered if she even had permission to be behind the bar. What if she broke a bottle? 'Would Romus be mad?' That thought brought with it a mischievous smile and an idea.

"Actually, I hate to be picky, but I see my favorite brand of cinnamon whiskey there on the top shelf." He pointed to a bottle of Fireball. The top shelf was almost out of reach for the short Elizabeth. But if she stood on her tip toes she might be able to coax it down. Whether she could get it down without dropping it was another story. He didn't actually want to see his friend in trouble, but he was a demon after all, and what harm could really come of a dropped bottle?

@InkIsDorian@Balthazar007

Elizabethshakes Sam's hand "my name is Elizabeth. My friends calls me Liz if they want to." She gets the bottle of Rum and pours him a shot of it. "Are you a pirate," Liz ask him as she hears Max request for cinnamon whiskey and the bottle is on the top shelf. She is not falling for that trick as she steps on a stool to get the bottle. She does not care if anyone sees her underwear, she steps down off the stool with the bottle of cinnamon whiskey. She pours Max a double order of his drink order. Maybe she could find some coffee in the kitchen to calm her down a bit.

Sam let out a chuckle. He was starting to relax a bit. At least enough to loosen his his grip on the catalyst.

"What gave it away? It was the boots wasn't it?"
He looks at the glass a bit confused. He smelled it as discreetly as he could. He stopped for a second to think if it was a good idea to just drink things handed out by strangers. He shrugged internally. It would be rude not too, after all, it was on her.
"Cheers" he raised the glass and gave it a hearty drink.
It felt like his throat was burning. He tried to hide the fact that he almost choked on it and swallowed. The aftertaste wasn't too bad. He gave Liz his best smile

@Alisdragon911 @InkIsDorian
Elizabeth didn't fall for Max's little prank. Damn, that girl could really hold her liquor. The same couldn't be said for the man named Sam. The rum he ordered obviously didn't go down very easily.

"Hello Sam." With Elizabeth in the kitchen and Roman outside taking care of a horse, the two "men" were the only two left in the room. Reason told Max that the appropriate thing to do was to introduce himself. "My name is Max. Don't mind my 'sharper' physical features. I'm not an aggressive demon; they're purely for self defense." Max extended a clawed hand, signaling for a handshake. While waiting, he noticed something strange in the air around Sam. "Say, you wouldn't happen to have magical blood in your veins would you?"

When Sam saw the sharp faced individual, alarms started ringing. He had seen demons before. Some of the guys in the school of conjuration higher level's were taught to bring them out of their realities, into containment sigils. Those did not look happy about it. This one didn't look agressive, although Samuel was not ready to completely trust him.
He shook the demon's hand cautiously. Now, the question was not one he was sure he should answer. Finally, against his best judgement he nodded

@InkIsDorian

Before Elizabeth went into the kitchen, she answers Sam's question. "It is not the boots you are wearing, it is the drink you otder." As she walks into the kitchen as she search for coffee or something to eat. Liz sees the water drops from the facet, she runs out of the kitchen to find the nearest bathroom even if it was clean or dirty. It was not to puke from drinking too much booze, she needs to use the lady's room.

Opening the door, Elaniel stepped into the Tavern. Weary of traveling all day long, the elf-maiden needed a place to rest and spend the night.


She was wearing a tight-fitting dress that showed off her curves. While walking towards the bartender, she looked around the room. "Nice place", she thought to herself. She placed both of her arms on the counter, without realizing said position showed a lot of her bosom. "Can a have a pint, please? I am quite thirsty."

Slumped over I over in a big bed, Fenna looked around the room using her peripherals she locked onto the door as she heard a door open but I wasn't her's. Fenna noticed that this room was new and she hadn't been here before. Then she remembered that Clay had tried to kill her! She tried to stand up from her awkward position, only to fall over onto the warm wooden floor, laying there for a few seconds before standing up and noticing that her weapons were gone. "That snake" Fenna shouted as she busted through the door, looking left and right down the hallway, trying to find the stairs. To her left she saw them. Running down the hall and down the stairs with a loud *stomp* from her bare feet on the last step that lead into the main room. "Where is that wear wolf son of a bitch?!" She yelled searching the room with her eyes. "Your so unlucky that that poison didn't kill me cuz I'm good any one thing and that's kickin ass" she said as she fully realized she only had her fists.

@Dark Light@Luna Amore

While drinking her beer, Elaniel noticed from the corner of her eye a woman yelling in the room. The woman was ready to fight someone. Not wanting to get involved in someone else's business, the black haired woman kept drinking.

It had been a long journey, fighting monsters and the like. His cloak was heavy with blood and mud, his feet ached from the march, and his stomach quivered with hunger. Lord Patryk turned to speak top the rest of his Sunguard. "There's a tavern near here. Drink, be merry. We'll be resting here tonight." Patryk heard his half-brother Vyvyxx mutter something. Talmus, Patryk's left hand, mentioned something about it being unwise. Rags, the rogue of the group, cheered happily at the chance to get ale in his belly. Amaya, one of the wizards, praised whatever God she followed for the chance to rest. Thylen, the second archer, said something about elves not needing sleep. Patryk ignored them all. He had made his decision. Truthfully, Patryk was simply interested in the tavern. He had seen it on several of his journeys; he had never once stopped in for a drink.

He opened the door to hear the familiar sounds of yelling. It was only natural in a tavern. Patryk lowered his hood and walked towards to bar. "Barkeep, mug of ale, elven preferably. And whatever meal is the special tonight." Patryk paid the keep and took his things to a table. His weapons clattered as he sat. He sat there silently for a moment, prayed faithfully to his own god, Sylvannis, and took a sip of his ale. He peered around the room, curious to see what kinds of people frequented such a quaint tavern. Talmus and Vyvyxx eventually joined him, but the rest of his Sunguard sat elsewhere. The three talked quietly amongst themselves, careful not to mention anything of their work, a hint their Spymaster had taught them long ago. Patryk pushed his empty plate into the center of the table and downed the rest of his ale.

Ayeka walks down the snoy path to the tavern, she is glad she found it once again. Her ears twitch as she hears Fenna screaming about her weapons. She continues walking as she enters through the back door and ends up in the bar. “Fenna, calm down. I help look for weapons or have a drink, it be my treat.” Some of the patrons recognize her and raise their glasses for her.

Patryk looked to the bar as another patron walked in. She seemed to carry herself with pride as she glided through the place. Ever eager to learn, even enlist new skills to the Sunguard, Patryk waited for the right moment to introduce himself.

A man... or whatever’s left of a man, stands planted outside in mud in front of this tavern... this nameless tavern. “Heh” he lets out to himself. “I was once nameless for thousands of years where I toiled and danced the devil’s dance. But I’ve taken on a name these days...” He thinks with great reverence. “What do they call me...? Ah! Conda.”

His eyes scan a badly distressed bulletin flapping fitfully in wind. “Seeking adventurers” it says. This doesn’t interest him, yet the trust this offer implies; taking in any odd traveler who’d find them self here and putting them to work- had tenacity which deserved a closer look. But not yet, the man stays standing poised like a hawk on roost looking over all of the fine blemishes and angles of the tavern. He will enter when ready, when instinct and foresight come together. Until then he sees, breathes, and remains... Conda.

@Triesa

As if calling to or welcoming him, the doors slowly creeped open beckoning the stranger to enter.
The cold silence of escaping stale air resonated with a longing and loneliness. It was as if the building itself was aching and pleading for some company, for some purpose.

Then with a rustling gush of air the tavern inhales. Despair turned to hope swiftly sweeps in on a soft breeze. The heavy wooden door swung wide open and softly 'clanged' against the wooden wall to which its hinges were tied.

With the door fully open a forgotten light cascades into the wide open empty room. This new gleaming life reached across the decrepit wooden floors and still statuesque furniture, pausing at the foot of the bar and seemingly not daring to reach up the ancient grand oak stairway.

The once idle and ancient dust now stirred by the breeze played in the welcoming rays of sun. It swirled about in the air shimmering and dancing, giving a false life to these dead halls.