Penrod nodded and walked to the door. I would have been fine paying him with the last of my gold. He thought a little crossly. Oh well. I might need the gold later.
He walked out and around the tavern to see what was on the other side of the window. What he saw made him jump. "Hey!" He called, placing his hand on the hilt of one of his sheathed daggers. I hope these can work against whatever the hell that thing is. "Uhh... shoo?"
@Varicke

@reverentsatyr

The shade reeled back at the sight of the satyr as he hasn't seen anything like it before, his shadows bristling slightly in a disconcerting demeanor. There hasn't been any violence or anger incited about the Tavern to influence his own violent and aggressive tendencies for a long time, so he was back to his old shy and reserved self again. Knutik melted away into the shadows disappearing into the earth beneath him like a funnel of darkness until it was as if he was never there, retreating out of sight away from the goat man.

Despite Knutiks intentions to retreat and hide, as he filtered through the dirt earth beneath them he would soon find himself surrounded by walls. No longer simply outside looking in. Wooden walls, polished and oiled giving a deep red coating to its old face. Intricate patterned wallpaper of sharp grays, light browns and thin glittering lines of gold hugged tightly to the lower third of the wall, faded and peeling in the small patches were it began to fail the endless fight against time.
The room, which seemed more of a hallway, had no doors except for those at either end. More red wood like that of the walls. An ornate candle chandelier hung centre of the roof. A long plush rug acted as a floor covering.

“Welcome”
So confident and sure the voice was. Although the door behind him had only just started opening, the word sounded like it was spoken beside him. All around him. In stepped a man. Dorian. His eyes intent but gentle. Hands folded behind his back.
“What brings you to my establishment?” He asks kindly with a gentle curiosity, but at the same time strictly to the point.

Penrod blinked and rubbed his eyes, not sure whether what he saw was real. Then he shrugged and walked back into the tavern and back to the table.
"It's gone." He told the man. "It just vanished at the sight of me."

—————————————————————————————————


22/12/21

———————————————————————-—————————-

For as many times as he had left this place it seemed that the universe, fate, chance, destiny, or what ever you might want to call it, kept drawing him back. He simply named the power that drew him here dumb stubborn luck.
His hand rested on the ornate steel handle of the entrance door. The metal cold and almost unfamiliar to his touch, like the tavern was pouting about his absence. For this time he had been gone longer than ever before and it showed on his near ageless features.
Around him shadows grew and stretched only to fade away again, a thousand sparkly eyes opened in a darken sky to watch him but eventually faded away in boredom. It was only when the light of the morning sun chased away the mist that had settled around his sturdy leather boots did he move.
He let out a long tired breath, it was born of memories and expectations of what was to come, it carried on it a mix of sorrow joy and pain. His lips caught somewhere between a smile and a frown, indecisive about which way to go.

If the steel handle was a house cat, grumpy for being left alone, the wooden door was a loyal dog, creaking with an overly loud excitement at his return.
The noise echoed out throughout the establishment echoing off barren walls and through empty rooms.
It was as dusty and decrepit as one would expect. It appeared as though in his absence it had been looted, used for shelter, had seen battles, used for some other nefarious purposes and maybe even been a home for some large creature.
The sight of the damage did not pain him as one might expect. The old man simply rolled up his sleeves and made his way to behind what used to be a bar. Although only now half existing he couldn’t determine its latest purpose if it had one at all.

Amongst the rubble there he found a single glass still miraculously intact. He picked it up steadily, raising it to the light to examine its dusty surface.
Pulling a kerchief from his pocket he got to work cleaning the drinking device. While his old bones didn’t respond as they used too the motion was still more familiar to him than anything in the world.
He couldn’t hold back the floodgate of memories that were attached to this familiar motion or the emotions attached to them.

He cleaned it beyond clean, like it was the most prized possession in his life. He got in deep and continued to examine his work. It was spit shined so bright that it no longer belonged in the place he had walked into, but that was not the same place as to which he put it down.

Although he moved nowhere the glass landed on a long exotic dark wooden polished bar. No dust to be seen. Above it finely crafted cup trays held an assortment of different sized drinking materials. Behind him were sturdy shelves packed with eating implements and a working wash station beside that.
Out before him the room was filled with tables and fine chairs. An alluring smell wafted from behind a door where there was none before. The smell of an inviting stew simmering on a fire.

His hand slid the glass across the bar top to be nimbly caught in his other hand. Strong agile athletic fingers on his young hands. From a rack beside him he pulled forth a long narrow bottle. A second latter a deep red liquid splashed forth into his glass. An aroma of berries filling his nose before his sipped at the wine. Finally he smiled.

“Open” Dorian whispered and the large entry doors obeyed. The tavern continued to regenerate around him into the fancy establishment he remembered. It felt.... right.... to be back on business.

Alwen rubbed the stubble on the side of his rugged looking face very unlike how the fairy-tales described necromancers. a look of wistfulness washed over his visage as he recalled his short service to a powerful mage, in the necromancers memory it was as if it had happened yesterday despite being nearly six years later. Once he had been young and naive, too quick to lick the boots of someone superior to himself now he had some hubris and self-respect.

Blinking he shook himself from his reminiscence of the past, it was time to live in the present day and not to question the decisions he made in the past. Alwen's caramel brown hair whipped against his face as a gust of wind blew through the byway in which he stood staring at the establishment across the street, well not staring at it really more like he was looking at it blankly as he became lost in his thoughts.

"Your wasting time, just go in for god sakes!" in truth he was unintentionally stalling, too worried by the taboo that followed his practition "Just don't announce for all to know who you are or what you do!" breathing an exasperated sigh the man hesitantly crossed the street with his dark cloak billowing behind him, Alwen was dressed for travel in a tunic with a plain white shirt and leather breeches.

His finely polished black boots made a dull clack against the pavement as he crossed the taverns threshold, pushing through the doors with his dark brown eyes darting around the mostly empty room.

”Welcome.” A kind yet purposeful voice greeted from beyond the bar. He was a well dressed man of average height and a slim build. Sure he was handsome and elegantly dressed but beside that there was nothing outstanding about him except for the intangible air of confidence that surrounded him and the deep yearning pool of experience in his eyes.
He flashed the newcomer a passing glance, offering a welcoming smile to match his greeting then turned away busying himself with the many tasks behind the bar.

”Make yourself comfortable. All seats are free, someone will be with you soon.” The man called out from behind some shelves. A hint of some emotion briefly infiltrated his tone as he unnecessarily commented on the very obvious vacancy of the place, but it vanished as quick as it appeared.

Upon the patrons chosen tables, right in the very centre, shadows began to dance and coalesce. A darkness suddenly forming right before their very eyes. It thrummed with life, forming quickly, growing so deep, so thick that it began to appear substantial. Then as suddenly as it appeared the now thick dark icor like substance condensed, pulling back into itself and shrinking away to almost nothing before violently shooting up into the air in a long dark stream.
About 3 foot above the wooden table it exploded outward with a small pop as and left wake to a small cloud of shadowy smoke like vapour.

The whooshing of steady beating wings dispersed the cloud to nothingness, revealing a small wiry flying creature within. It had a large head housing two big empty white eyes. Pointy ears, smooth dark skin the colour of moonlit shadows, skinny muscular arms attached to claw like fingers and a long thin tail.



A soft glow came to its white eyes as it spoke, not verbally but in the customers heads.

”Hello, how can I help you?”

@Song Book@Dark Cloud

What a deary day, Vendril's mind lingers along as he gazes out his lavish office window at the oncoming heavy rain to be above. The clouds dark and he even got the sense that it may be a storm other than rain. Rasping his fingers against the desk as a soft sigh emanates from him, the last groups leaving him rather drained after their prattle... enough to maybe incur some time away from it all as a slight grin caresses his face as he presses the buzzer as a voice chimes in from the intercom alongside it. "Hello sir, is there something wrong?"

"Not at the present time, but I am starting to get worn out from everything going on. I need you to postpone any further visits or clients, I'll be out for some time. Tell them that if they agree that I'll downgrade the price per the situation... and if they aren't as draining as the last." With a 'Yes sir!' from his secretary he'd lean back in his chair as he ponders on his thoughts, rubbing his forehead and uttering a rather weak sigh. Maybe he could take a trip? He knows that Gherko II is experiencing a nicely heated summer, the thought of the beach is nice. Maybe he could go to Rutar Prime? The lounging, city and landscape are a sight to behold yet the idea of the cold isn't too enticing even if it makes for good, fun recreation. Alone with his thoughts as in the corner of the room his Weyline Portal activates on its own, catching his eye as he glances here and there before holding his finger next to his ear, just behind it as he speaks. "Virus? Parasite? Did either of you somehow activate the Weyline in my office?" Silence ensuring before trying again, only to receive further silence.

With that he'd rise from his place, snatching his cane and slowly walking over as he investigates what may be going on. His eyes flickering over the device, something that shouldn't be working. The Weyline portals haven't worked in how many years after the event. A finger tapping on the head of his cane as he looks about his office before slowly, ever so slowly stepping through. He was cautious as he knows there are those that would like nothing more than see him or his business topple over. Though his surprise after passing through was nothing more than a spark of awe at seeing what was around, this was certainly new to him. Not only that but had a quaint and calm feeling to him, the aura of other species and individuals. How has he never seen or heard of a place like this before? It does have the features that many other a tavern however something is different about it, yet he can't quite put his finger on it. Though as the portal closes behind him, it became obvious he was going to be here for some time, might as well go along.

@LiegeLord

One of the shadow imps appeared before Vendril as it did the others, only this one soon vanished after a short moment without speaking and in a manner reverse of its entrance. No, for this guest, Dorian the well kept bartender would greet himself.
He walked over casually, his boots clicking on the wooden floor, his eyes kind yet serious studying the newcomer. A small yet polite nod offered his greeting before speaking.

”Welcome, hope your travels were well. How may I assist you today? Food? Beverage? Accomodation?”

@Dark Light

A brief surprise if anything from the imp, reeling back a step before it vanished as quick as it appeared. Blinking a few times on his end before looking to Dorian, a smile creeping on his face at the manners bestowed as Vendril bows before the man, fixing his top hat afterwards. “Ahh, if only it was a travel but haven’t the courtesy of the Weyline for years! Thank you for the offers but before we continue with that formalities are needed, the name is Vendril. Sir Vendril and could I inquire for yours?”

Letting the man introduce himself before chuckling, giving a slight nod yet he couldn’t let the next part slide so quickly or easily. “Also if you don’t mind if I ask where I am? I don’t recognize the place, what land do we reside in? May help with piecing things together.” Walking amongst the place as his eyes wander, even checking outside the window if possible. But he was diligent about what Dorian had to say, his cane gently tapping the floor towards the end of his viewing. “Will say this place is far nicer than many that I’ve been to.”

@LiegeLord

”Of course. Sir Vendril, pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Dorian Radshaw ”
“Way lines” he repeated softly, amused but understanding.

A slight smile tinted with pride took his face at the following question. ”You are currently standing in the nameless tavern. A place in many lands, yet none. I think the best way to understand will be to look out a door or window occasionally.”

Although for windows, there were not many and all had thick rich red drapes covering them. Soft light prying at its edges.

Alwen eyed the creature curiously, blinking then blinking again 'Not fiendish, intriguing.' taking a seat at an empty table, his hands fished out a few gold coins from the pouch at tied to his belt and set them on the table with a dull thunk upon the wood.

"Uh-huh, yes I'll have an ale if you please."

@Song Book

The shadowy imp-like creature seemed delighted at being able to be of service.
It jumped to the task, descending to the table where it quickly swiped up the coins with its long clawed fingers.
”This will be more than enough.” it said without speaking, its wide eyes watching her intently. It inched ever ever so slowly.
”Oh, what about a snack? I’m not sure what your kind eat but I’m sure you’ll find it here. There is a steady supply of Gru bugs if you’d like. I’m happy to share.”
The small creature was quite animated as it spoke telepathically. Always shifting its weight or tilting its head.

@Dark Light

“Dorian, pleasure to meet you.” Turning in his direction momentarily for the bit before glancing about again. Though he does burrow his eyebrows thinking he may have heard correctly, however he’d brush it aside for now, new place and all so it would be rude to correct if he did hear correctly. There was a difference between the two but that can be saved for another time.

Nodding slowly as the man introduces the place, though part of it was baffling to anyone who may not be used to such things. The words bringing back memories as he zones out momentarily before regaining his senses and smiling back at Dorian, walking over to the gentleman. “Ahh thank you for the introductions and for taking your time to answer my questions. Now since this place is what it is, if I heard correctly that is, what currencies do you associate with?” With that he’d reach a hand into his pouch and he’d pull out a couple gold coins, what looks like a cred chit, a couple thin and slim silver looking bars no bigger than his thumb and a blank card with a scanning strip. Holding each between two fingers between both hands. “Whatever you’d prefer I’ll do my best to oblige but I’d love to get my hands on the best tea you’ve got while we chit chat further, ehh?”

"...Yeah, I get what you mean Kevin, but listen..."

Stacks of newspapers, a dozen plates and cups, and the pair of muddied gumshoes of the man sitting in a far too old office chair, littered the desk on which a telephone stood. The chord strung loosely from the desk to the reciever in the hands of a tense man, trying his best to calm down and do something by the book, which proved to be no easy feat all things considered. After all, unlike others Private Detective Richard Barker talked to these days, Kevin on the other side of the line knew how how the P.I. ticked and worked.

"...wait, so they have an alibi after all? And what might just that be?"

A document cabinet stood in the corner of the small office, itself placed in the corner of a less-than pleasent-looking office building in downtown New York City. Like the office itself had its secrets, so did the cabinet. The phone still tightly trapped between the detective's ear and shoulder, the cabinet was opened and a bottle pulled out, though its contents was as dissapointing as Richard's. Even a stern shake of it yielded only the bare buttom of his glass, much to his annoyance. The conversation didn't help.

"Jesus Christ...I know they're lying, Kevin, I just know!...no, thanks Glasses. I owe you one. Take care, and don't let Hoover bite you in the ass. Night..."

So the Order, well more specifically the two heads of the Hermetic Order has alibis on the disappearance of a certain member. Well...shit. this was more rotten than he'd guessed, even for all the brain-twisters he'd seen since that incident with a haunted house in Boston...or was it Arkham...He couldn't remember, and frankly tonight he didn't give to shits.

He really needed some giggle juice.

Richard put down the reciever and stared at the glass in his hand, contemplating whether this was enough for him to go to sleep without dreaming of Her...or even HIM. Probably not, nothing could get that old Mr. Corbitt out of his head anytime soon. Believe him, he'd really tried. So with a swift swig of the glass and an even swifter departure from his office, Richard Barker found himself out on the streets of New York, looking for the next best Gin Joint in the city.

Well...somehow he found one, though it certainly wasn't Kansas anymore.

A fog enveloped Richard after a couple of blocks, though the seasoned New Yorker wasn't phased by it. Growing up in the city told him these things tended to happen on nights like these, and the bare minimum of alcohol didn't make him question it. So when he found himself in front of a rather rustic-looking fascade of a tavern, he only asked two questions: "Does this look like a place run by O'Bannion, and do they sell JP Wiser'S?

Only his entrance into the Nameless Tavern would answer those questions and quence his thirts.

---

The change of atmosphere phased Richard briefly, with the lack of outside noise giving him second thought stepping into the tavern. Having just left a semi-busy street with cars, trams and whatever New York had to offer of its bountyful clientell of drunks, whores, cops and thugs, the inside was...calm. Too calm. Richard stood out like a sore thumb in the rustic tavern, looking more like a brown pub in merry ol' England rather than a New York speakeasy...then again, who was Richard to start asking questions?

The P.I. took a few cautionary steps inside, his detective gaze never ceasing to inspect the interiours and people seated around, while he himself made his own strides towards the counter...refraining from commenting on the rather odd fellows already inhabiting the joint. This was New York after all. If you wanted to find the freaks and odd Joes of the world, this was the place.

"Pardon me, buddy, but got any good ol' whiskey rye back there? Make it on ice, and don't worry. I don't work for the Feds..."

@LiegeLord
Dorian was, well, out of sorts today. Not yet quite settled back into things or his role here and a bout of loneliness had him sharing perhaps more than he should. He reaches over and takes a single silver bar, feeling it’s weight he studies it for a moment.

”I take all currencies, but would prefer not to get out the card scanner. Doesn’t do with the aesthetics of this place.” He says looking up from the silver with a small smile.
”A single silver is a bit short for our best tea but as its your first time that’s ok.”

He leans in a little close and almost whispers.
”Truth is the exchange is completely unnecessary, it simply offers a bit of normalcy and regularity. It ties people to where they’re from, it’s a single expectation that remains true. A small semi-constant that I can offer.”
As he leans back he continues, still holding the silver.
”Something I believe a travelled man such as yourself doesn’t need.”

But he didn’t give the silver back. Instead with a nod he turned and walked back to the bar, heating some water for the tea when a new patron approached.

@ONL
”Of course we do.” he said, pulling up a bottle and preparing a short glass with ice just as quick as he replied.
”That will be 31 cents.”

Meanwhile @Song Book
“Mollusks” it repeated, echoing Ethodi’s words as it stood staring at her, still leaning in closer, its eyes full of, curiosity? Adoration? There was a moments awkward pause before it said ”Right away!” and flew off.

No sooner had the shadow imp disappeared behind the kitchen door, another came fluttering over to her table. It flew somewhat slow and carefully, it’s attention on the steaming cup in its hands. This imp was slightly different from the other. Slimmer features, longer head and it had a small satchel around it’s waist. It placed the aromatic dark liquid down on the table, emptied the satchel beside it, (contents were a tea spoon, sugar cubes and little milk containers) gave Ethodi a look of disgust and then flew off.