A stranger, a man clad in dark clothing, would leave the Nomad late in the evening. Though he'd speak with only a few souls, and likely only over a mug of ale, he'd have a rather interesting story to tell..

~~~~


Gods, it was crowded tonight. Most of the folks I saw were a blend of Nomad regulars and a couple Long and Short drifters. A few adventurers were scattered amidst the crowd. I reckon I even saw a Dragonkin-- And its said the Nomad ain't an exotic place, Well. My bratwurst was mostly cooked and the beer resembled piss with water, but I couldn't complain. Far better than being cooked myself in the middle of that desert- Yet I digress.

It wasn't long before tensions rose. Whether it was the food, the mixing of cultures, or the god-awful tambourine man, I don't know. Of course, it didn't help that the homosexual picked the largest man in the inn to sweet talk. Two crowds of folks, s'far as I could see, began to measure the size of their own egos in some heated discussion. Seemed those Long an' Short fellows were stuck in an odd place: Caught between ghosts in their own tavern and a Tambourine Man who could have very well been replaced by one of those Undead. I doubt we would have noted a difference. As trouble was brewing there, the Homosexual made his way over to the Lute-playin' bard. At least he wasn't bad.

"I'd like something with a little bit... No! A little spice... Make it quick, flamboyant.. Absolutely fabulous.... Make it---Salsa!"

There must be some kind of mental connection a'tween folks of those sexual inclinations. I didn't much know what a 'Salsa' was, but the man with the Lute seemed to get it. Before long, the fella was dancing in front of the whole crowd of folks, swinging his hips like a gypsy in heat. Certainly didn't make the bratwurst any easier to swallow. One man wandered a bit too close to the man's dancing- found himself victim of a rather liberal 'Salsa' grind. In a quick flurry, the man shoved him down, though perhaps it was just a bit o' surprise. Shortly after, see, he tried to help him up. As he did though, the big ole Brute had decided to make his way over and offer his own constructive feedback. Reconstructive, perhaps- in the way his fist rearranged the homosexual's nose.

As you can imagine, that's when, as they say, the night turned wild. Folks took the man's whimpering as a cue to finish their own troubles. What happened next was a right blur of violence: chairs broken, bottles thrown, faces catching those bottles. I'm pretty sure I saw a hin fly from a table. One man though, the victim of the 'Salsa' grind, drew a warhammer and began crackin' the legs of the Brute. Griff called down the Garcons, and they all scampered about to close the place down. Now I can't be too sure, but I'm fairly certain I saw one punch the Lute-playing Bard in his own confusion. And damn, that hin broke a chair over a woman's back. Now that, I did see.

Half a bratwurst later, the fighting calmed down some. Griff had the folks clean the place up, collecting a handful of gold from a number o' patrons. Hell, if I were in a different place, I could see myself making quite a living off of ripping off drunken brawlers. One of the adventurers approached me,

"You're pretty smart."
"Hm?" I said back.
"For staying out of that fight,"

Of course I did. I don't play around. When I fight, I fight to win- I fight to kill. Folks like me don't belong with folks like this-- Just like the predator doesn't play kindly with the prey. But hey, at least it took my mind off the taste of the Beer. Can't say I'm looking to find myself in one of Griff's Barstools anything in the near future, though.

Within one of the upstairs rooms of the Nomad, a make-shift vanity has been hastily erected. Peering into it with an intensity that would only otherwise be seen on the face of some wizard incanting a volatile spell, is a rather obese, blond gentleman. The stool upon which he perches is slowly buckling with the weight of his buxom behind, though he doesn't seem to notice as he busily chirps at his own reflection in the mirror.

~~~~

Oh what am I going to do! What to do? What will I do with this... Just look at it! It's ugly, it's different, it's weird.. Huh! It's absolutely, positively, deliciously fabulous!

And to think, for years I had thought a straight nose suited me best!

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feel the blood gushing from your anusfeel the blood gushing from your anus

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Aoth Nathandem - Wizard of house Tholaunt and chosen of Ma'at.

Griff would seem somewhat hesitant to answer immediately as Loynis poses the question. The gruff man would cant his head, viewing Loynis with a careful eye. His demeanor was evidently exhausted, and his eyes were heavy from the lack of sleep. Still, he manned the bar with an admirable grit.

"Did Captain Tarvencia send you? They took the woman to go find the Captain last evening." After another moment he turns and begins attending the counter behind him, scrubbing and wiping at the wooden surface. Griff speaks over his shoulder to the guard, "..I think you should talk to her about it, unless they couldn't find her last night, I suppose."

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Aoth Nathandem - Wizard of house Tholaunt and chosen of Ma'at.