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Season: Autumn
Time Of Day: Night
Weather: Windy but clear
Location: Black Adder Tavern
Setting: It's nighttime, and the sky is dark. The days are just beginning to lengthen as fall gives way to winter. Outside, it's cold and dreary, but cheery light spills from the windows in the Back Adder Tavern. The wooden sign outside the door rattles on its chains in the wind. A picture of a black snake coiled around a beer mug is positioned just below the words 'Blacke Adder Taverne'. Inside, it's warm and cozy, though the scowl on the owner's face could probably freeze you right where you stand. Welcome to the

Art tapped her long, thin fingers across the scarred table that formed the top of the bar. She rolled her neck for a moment, then called, "Kric! Get down here!" She needed one of her waiters downstairs to help with the cooking. Which reminded her, they still needed a cook. They hadn't had one for probably about... oh, a decade, now that Art was thinking about it. She resolved to put a sign out. "Krick! Get! Down! HERE," shouted Art again. She sighed. The imp could be taking a nap, for all she knew. Yep, she thought. We really need a cook.

The moving mass of swirling black shadows, as seen in the eyes of 3d creatures but in "reality", in his own dimension, his true form could not be perceived by lower dimensional beings. As the shadow approached the tavern, it slowly began to transform into a hulking black man with a black suit and black glasses.

Entering in, he saw around, different creatures scattered about. He saw them as nothing, he didn't even hunt stray beings for souls anymore. He had left his "calling card" in every civilized planet all across this current plane and he got millions of offerings every second. Time was nothing for this being of a higher dimension. So why chase and hunt while you have millions of creatures willingly giving you their soul?

Behind him were multiple young elf, fairy and angelic girls who carried a heavy barrel on their backs. Barely staying upright but managing anyway they followed him to the back of the bar before the girls put the barrels down. Then they waited on a kneeling position before him. Cracking open his hand with sickening movements in an unnatural position, all the girls were turned to their soul forms and pulled back inside him. Souls that he had yet to convert to pure energy but kept them around.

The bar was always a terrifying rowdy and excessively busy place at night time, especially when you were one of the only waiters in the place and not anything special in physical strength. Just last night poor little Kric had just managed to avoid getting his fangs knocked across the room when he attempted to calm down the nightly brawl. The little imp had finally got a chance to get a little snooze in, resting comfortably in his cramped room on the rickety bed and dreaming peacefully.

Floating sundaes, glistening popsicles and hills of ice cream clouded his dream world, the red headed demon skipping happily through and eating whatever he could get his hands on. With a huge smile he flopped himself down in the mountain of strawberry ice and began making a snow angel, giggling to himself with utter joy.

Suddenly, the wonderous world of frozen sweets began to darken, the sky turning a menacing purplish black, the color of a bruised eye spreading over the land. From beyond the hills of chocolate and pistachio rose a monstrous being, with draping brown locks and a sickening snarl. ”Kric... KRIC...”

”KRIC GET DOWN HERE!”

The red headed imp squeaked as he tumbled off the bed and went face first into the wooden floor, nearly breaking his nose. Half dressed in only his undies and pants, Kric grabbed his other clothing off the dresser and skidded down the stairs faster than a bolt of lightning. ”I-I’m here! Hold on!” Hurriedly he threw on his shirt and shoes haphazardly, leaving the vest open as he ran up to Art panting, much to the guests’ amusement. With a gulp for breath, Kric began to button his vest, glancing his red orbs up timidly at the tavern owner. ”You needed me, mam...?” It was times like these Kric pondered whether Hell would be easier on the heart.

Angle was standing on a nearby mountain watching the stars in the sky and breathing in the cool autumn breeze. The tavern was always full of energy and sometimes she just needed someplace calm to clear her head. The mountain was a perfect place it was calm, quiet and there wasn’t anyone in miles. she always comes here if she needed to clear her head or want to get away from all the noise. It was her little place that no one knew about.

“Time to get back,” she said to herself after standing there for about an hour. She walked to the edge of the cliff she was standing on, closed her eyes, took in a deep breath then jumped off. She watched as the ground quickly approach and before she hit the ground she changed into her true form and blasted into the sky sending a wave of air in all direction. She flew back to the tavern and landed with a huge thud outside the front door. She changed back to her human form and walked in.

“Hey I’m back” she announced. The tavern was quiet with a few people scattered about. There was a man standing beside some barrels that she swore were not there before.

She walked up to the man and said, “hello there would you like something to drink.”

Dain would often think about the twists and turns of his life as he farmed. As he would wake, sometimes he would remember the times in which he would awaken while under attack, or in ambush during the night. As he would go to feed the chickens and cattle, he would recollect warm fires in the midst of drizzling rain, or shrouded in foggy twilight, surrounded by his companions on whatever venture they'd fooled themselves into. As he collected the eggs and the milk, he would remember raiding supply trains and selling the goods for profit. On and on throughout the day, he would remember. He liked the farming; though he never would have thought that his life would turn to something he used to view as drab and unworthy of his skills, he now found it all very therapeutic, even if it was uneventful. As unexciting as it often was, he was much more suited to working the earth and living a life mostly filled with making ends meet. It was better for him to not always be in danger... However, things like that got as old as he felt after some time.

On a morning that didn't necessarily differ from any other, he decided not to conduct business as usual. He sold his livestock, and he abandoned his little parcel of land. He never made much on the farm anyway - the resources he gained out of the land were almost exclusively used for supporting himself, and the land itself wasn't actually included in any specific locale. That's why he'd chosen it in the beginning, so that he could simply be away from everyone. He liked the quiet for a time, but the best part was the secrecy. If any had heard of the riches he'd scooped up in his own adventures and possibly wanted to take what he had, then the best of luck to them! They would have to find him first. Even if they had, Dain would have introduced them to their end.

Dain saddled his horse, a black mare called Muireann. He filled the satchels with the basic supplies for his journey - food, money, a basic bedroll, a warm cloak, a spiked warhammer, a pouch filled with narcotics (Khat, Henbae, and Fly Agaric), and all of the Lobelia he could stuff into the extra spaces. Much of that, he had cultivated on his own, as it was his favorite form of Tabac. And then he left, waving farewell to his home. He figured it was unlikely he would ever see the place again. His destination, to start: The Black Adder.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"All throughout her terrible reign, make certain you bow to the magical queen," Dain sang as he rode. He liked singing. He liked to whistle too, but he wasn't just making this noise for fun. No, what he was doing was essentially announcing his presence to others nearby. More than once he had surprised other travelers on accident, and sometimes you just don't want to kick a hornet's nest until you know how big it is. "Make sure to be wise or she'll cut out your eyes! Play the fool, it's your doom, and it's your surprise."

Dain wasn't sure of how long it had been since he'd visited the Black Adder. He also wasn't sure of how long he would stay there, but as it came into view the memories flooded back. What a strange place this was, and all the better for it. Hunger reminded him to stop daydreaming, and he pushed onward.

"You've never come to this place, Muireann." He said to the mare as she placidly forged on. "Maybe you'll learn a few things while you're here. Maybe we both will, but old folk like us... Well, we have a few things to teach too."

As they reached the Tavern, Dain climbed off of Muireann and immediately felt the years in his knees and hips. He tied her off and took a moment to gaze at the scenery around them. Almost completely by habit, he pulled out a worn pipe and thumbed some of the Lobelia Tabac into it, struck flint into a handheld bushel of straw and tinder to light it, and puffed thoughtfully. He'd stay out here for a little while.

@DawningAurora

They never stayed long after delivering the order of barrels but this time they felt like staying, pretending to be a mortal for once. The souls that resided inside them might be influencing their actions. No way, that's not possible. No measly souls could ever affect them.

"Sure thing baby."-the black man said in a smooth voice before leaning against the counter and looking at the top shelf drinks. They had never tried anything besides souls before. But now that they were in human form, maybe it would be somewhat enjoyable. But now, for all appearances he was a mortal man.
"Get me one of those top-shelf drinks."-he said while looking at the names in front of the bottle. He gave the bartender a once over and remembered seeing a dragon in the night's sky some time ago when he was doing another shipment. No outside discernible connection so the fact that he remembered the creature was strange.
"3 glasses of Dragon's Breath"

@Cherrywitch@Bishop@Riddiskel

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"Thanks, Leige," Art said to the black male over her shoulder as she dragged the poor imp to the back room. "You're on cooking tonight, mostly because our darling Angle is tending to Leige's delivery. Start skinning the squirrel." She jerked her head to a pile of dead animals sitting by a stew pot. "I'm doing the barley. Stop looking so dejected." Art headed back into the main room for a moment, hollering, "Food's almost up! Who wants stew?" There was a jumble of, "Sure, Birdie!" and "Get a cook, Birdie!" and "I'm just here for the drinks, Birdie!" Art rolled her eyes. Her nickname with the regulars,sparse locals, and travelers was 'Birdie', mostly because they'd thought she was as delicate as a bird, since she was a female Fae, and they tended to run on the weak side. "Leige, don't run me out of Dragon's Breath." Art opened the door for the newcomer, who was lighting a pipe. "Come in," she said, smoothly and seductively. "Grab a seat, grab a drink. Welcome to the Black Adder Tavern. I'm Birdie. I own this place."

“Sure thing but don’t call me baby,” Angle said. She grabbed a step stool and took a bottle of Dragon’s Breath off the top shelf. She poured the brews into three cups and place them on the counter in front of the man.

“Sorry for the wait,” Angle said. She remembers the last time she tried Dragon’s Breath it knocked her out cold. She did drink like four bottles but not a lot of brews can knock out a dragon. She leaned up against the counter and carefully studied the man in front of her. He has a strange black aura surrounding him and her instinct told her to stay away, which was strange. Other than his aura there was nothing strange about him so why is her instinct telling her to stay away.

Jeofrey

Jeofrey landed with a thud, the dragon's head falling severed beside him. "Oh, Jeofrey, my love!" Swooned the Gnome Princess. "You're so amazingly strong and handsome and talented! Won't you marry me and be my king of music?" Jeofrey bowed his head, for he could not. "I can not. My people need my. Our people need me." And with that, Jeofrey rose up, up, rising faster and faster, until...!

Jeofrey shot up in bed. Stretching, he peered out the window. He gazed at the stars, attempting to tell the time. The time was about eight strokes past midday by a gnomish clock. In common terms however, it was night time. "I wonder when the other races are going to catch up." He mused through a yawn. He hops out of bed and dresses, being sure to grab his hat. "Let's just make sure everything's ticking in time, here." With that, he picks up his glass armonica and affixes it to his person. Gently, he produces a water pouch and pours it over the instrument's glass bowls.

Jeofrey turned the crank handle, the bowls spinning slowly, then not as slowly. He put a finger to one of the bowls, producing a mysterious and mystical hum. He touched other parts, making other sounds, and testing the instrument. Every once in a while he'd add a little more water. After about a half hour, he was finally ready to head downstairs. He opened the door to leave his room, only to have Kric, the imp waiter, dash past him shouting "I-I'm here! Hold on!" Had he been half naked? "Aaanywaay..." Jeofrey muttered as he walked down the stairs. Angle was behind the bar, while Artemisa greeted a guest. "Good evening, Ms. Vailor. You look radiant as always." He called to Angle as he descended.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Jeofrey turned to Artemisa. "And a good evening to you as well, Ms. Killigrew. Your grace is matched only by your head for business." He said, attempting to flatter her. He was about to go on when he caught a scent of the customer's pipe. "Excuse me, I hope you don't mind, but might I ask what it is you're smoking?"

@DawningAurora@Arya10108909@Riddiskel@Cherrywitch

Before even getting a chance to finish buttoning up the vest, his white collar was snatched from behind his neck, making the imp jolt. Kric was dragged away, heels scraping along the old wooden floors as he struggled to get out of the tavern owner’s grip of death. ”I- How many times must I tell you I can walk by myself?!” Kric mentally cursed his body, with the inability to fight, and wondered sadly just how Ms. Killigrew was as strong as the average forest troll.

Finally back to being able to stand on his own two feet, Kric muttered in distaste as he fixed his clothing and patted down the pieces that had been yanked up by the rough woman. I thought I was the demon... His red eyes darted to the pile of carcasses on the table, the small waiter wincing at the bloody mess.

”H-huh? Why am I on cooking duty? Isn’t it Lulu’s turn?” He whimpered in pure agony. Squirrel skinning was probably one of his most hated duty to be put on. The fur of the tail always became matted and crackly, and the limbs were so stiff actually trying to get the skin off was a task within itself. Not to mention you also had to take out the teeth and claws, what if it was rabid before death? Kric was almost holding back tears, completely crushed of the horrible burden he believed had been placed on him. He was hired as a waiter, not a beast! And now squirrel fur was going to be stuck under his pristine claws for at least a week...

The redhead sat down on the grubby floor, much to his disgust, and started to get to work with a huff. Sometimes Kric wondered if Art had it out for him, especially now as nausea built up in his throat with each slice of the knife.

He shouldn't have called her that? He was certain the person whose body he had stolen and was currently wearing spoke like that all the time. Strange. But it was never one of his hobbies to study slightly developed bacteria. Though they were developed enough to carry a...soul, did they call them?...a good, harvestable, renewable source of energy.

Lifting the glass with his hand he put it under his nose and breathed in the beverage. Humans had many senses after all, all the more to experience things with. Although dummed down compared to his higher dimensional body which gave a lot more information on everything, this felt more connected. Although not understanding the smell he just felt it, smelled it, the information traveling to his brain which then took an appropriate response. Primitive indeed.

Looking around, he saw the other people drinking, as he'd seen many times before, so he decided to imitate them. Opening his mouth lightly, he placed the edge of the glass against his lower lipped and almost fully turned the glass. He didn't gulp when he drank, the liquid freely passing through his mouth, throat and straight to his stomach. He did the same with the other glasses. Putting the final one down he looked straight at Angel.
"Have anything stronger?"
@DawningAurora

Lucy

Lucy yawned and stretched her body, mentally preparing to leave the warmth of her bed. She would much rather just continue sleeping and dreaming, but she had to make money – this room wasn’t exactly cheap and her secret stash of coins for worse days was growing rather slowly.

She cleaned herself, brushed her hair and carefully dressed, tying the corset as tight as possible. When she was finally satisfied with her visage, she cleaned up her room. It was a smaller room than the rest in the inn, but while the others were shared by at least two people, this one was only for her. It would be quite hard to do business in a shared room. Lulu giggled at the idea. Could be fun though.

Finally, everything looked prepared and Lucy could head downstairs. It wasn’t extremely busy yet, just a few regulars and two or three newcomers. Angle already tended to a large dark-skinned man at the bar. He looked rich, but Lucy thought she should probably avoid him, there was something in his eyes that made him look hungry and dangerous. There are professions where you must be extra careful about who you pick as a customer and LuLu’s was one of them.

She had heard Art yelling something about food, so for now she just sat at a table alone, deciding to wait for food first. Some of the regulars whistled and shouted at her. “LuLu, my love! Come here drink with us. My lap is much more comfortable than that chair!”

Lucy just grinned. “As if you could afford that.”

@Cherrywitch@Raylah@Riddiskel@Bishop

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"Lucy!" Art stepped away from the door. "Go help poor Kric!" She truned away from the door and stormed to the kitchen. She tossed the barely in a pot that was full of dark liquid and set it over the fire with magic. "When you two are done, put them in there and shout." She jerked her head to a second, smaller pot and headed out to the bar to find something strong for Liege to drink. She nudged Angle out of the way gently, and handed Liege a shot of the stuff she drank when she wanted to get drunk. And trust me, it's hard to get Fae drunk. Very hard.

Ah, so the bar maiden is coming in here. Kric’s crimson eyes flickered up curiously at the blonde woman, deviating from his task, though he really hadn’t been focused upon it to begin with.

His red spaded tail swayed with interest, the imp keeping his mouth shut until Lulu finally decided to join him on the floor with the dead squirrel corpses. Let’s see, Lucy is mainly interested in money. Being that imps didn’t require food nor drink like a human did, Kric rarely spent his pay besides for his room fee. The redhaired boy gently placed the squirrel he had been working on down on the floor, raising his eyes slowly to Lucy with a common impish grin. It was certainly charming besides the fangs, but even then his soft childish face made him sweeter and more believable. Imps were meant for trickery, after all, and this one happened to manipulate his appearance to get the full effect.

”Oh, Lucy my dear? May I offer you a proposition?” With a quick snap of his clawed index and thumb, a red and gold pouch appeared from thin air and into his open palm, which he held out enticingly to the woman. ”I have here a large sum of currency. It certainly could last you for three months, more if you are careful. I know how hard it is for you humans to keep yourselves alive, after all...” Kric brought it back to him smoothly, gazing at it with innocent concerned eyes. ”I have no real use for it, but it would be insulting to just give it to you as if you were some peasant. Say if you, do my part of the skinning perhaps? Ill gladly hand the entire bag over to you.” He flashed up another endearing gaze, accompanied by a gentle half smile. Kric held out his opposite hand, asking for a shake on the deal. ”Will you accept my offer?”

“Rude.” Angle said but not loud enough for art to hear. Angle watch as Art handed Liege a shot of one of the bar strongest drink. Angle grin just as she thought of a way to cause some mischief. She released her spell that shielded her from her fellow kin and cast a quick spell on the drink that Art handed Liege. The spell was nothing harmful it just increased the strength of the drink tenfold. It was dangerous for her to release her aura for something as frivolous as this, but she can get a laugh out of it, so it was worth it.
“I’m going to see if Kric and Lucy need any help in the kitchen” Angle said. she wandered into the kitchen finding Kric bribing Lucy with a sack of gold.
“you guys need any help,” Angle asked.

Lucy

Lucy sighed when Arte sent her to kitchen. “Seriously?” she mumbled to herself, when she saw what Kric was doing. Skinning squirrels. Awesome. She took a large apron, so she wouldn’t get her best dress dirty. It would be rather hard to find some customers with stains of squirrel blood all over her.

She frowned at Krick. He was pretty, under other circumstances she would certainly go for a flirt with him. But she had known him for a while and knew him very well, him and his little tricks he liked to play on people. That’s why she was most suspicious when he offered her money. So much money. Compared to what she would normally have to do to earn that sum, skinning squirrels didn’t seem so bad. But this was Krick. A deal with a tiny devil is a deal with the devil nonetheless. ‘But it is soooo much money,’ she thought desperately.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Angle entering the kitchen. Lucy never understood why would someone like Angle choose to live and work in this tavern. If she could fly wherever she wanted to, she sure as hell wouldn’t end up in a place like this. Hands covered in squirrel guts. Ugh.

“I have the squirrels covered,” she said quickly and grabbed the pouch from the imp’s hand, wondering how soon she would regret it. “Maybe help Kric with the vegetables.”

@Cherrywitch@Arya10108909

Chris entered the tavern with a sigh. He had spent the entire day too hung over to do anything else, and despite having regained his ability to walk his head still ached steadily and his stomach still burned to eject the toxins he had so eagerly consumed the night before. He stormed through the entrance and across the dining room, ignoring all his coworkers and the guests as he did so.

He walked into the kitchen and hung his backpack on the back wall. Tying the apron behind his back, he looked at Art.

"Alright. I'm here. Where do you need me?" He asked, seeing that the task of skinning squirrels had been taken. He was never too squeamish about blood, and neither was he ever compassionate about animals, especially not squirrels. If nobody else wanted to skin them, he wouldn't mind doing it.

Enjoying the view outside, Dain spared Birdie and anyone else he could peripherally see a side glance, but remained a moment longer. He had no constraint on time. Idly, he wondered if any poor soul might come across the land that he'd left behind and make it their own. It was unlikely he'd never go back, and just as he began to feel a pang of homesickness, he turned abruptly and headed inside, puffing away on his pipe.

After moving inside, he thumped the bar top and dipped his head in greeting to Birdie. "What a grand little f*ckin' place this is. I go by Dain." He announced, his deep voice sounding gravelly. In the grand scheme of things, Dain wasn't actually terribly that old - especially when compared to the crowd that came through here, most likely - but as a human and one that should have died at least ten years ago, he did give off the aura of a generally gruff old bastard. Where he'd been, most didn't live past thirty, such was the mortality rate from the gutter.

He puffed on his pipe, and drew in a lungful of smoke. Holding it all inside for a moment and letting it drift out slow, that was his style - all while studying the Fae owner of the establishment. "Birdie, yeah? A room, and a pitcher of ale, beer, or whatever you got. How much for that? Somethin' to eat too."

He turned slightly to look at a Gnome who'd asked about his tobacco.
"Lobelia, some of the best Tabac from India you can find. You ever been to India? Don't bother, it's a hell-hole, but I'll be damned if I won't stop and bust open a merchant train for more of this stuff." He responded, drawing himself up slightly. He jabbed his left thumb on his chest as he said,
"Dain. Your name?"