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[Book]

Moe is back with another drink for Book. Years of knowing Moe allow him to read his body language, and guesses from his sigh that perhaps Akhier is not the new pastry chef for Moe's, but rather works at Mrs. Miggins' Pie Shop and Inn next door. That does make more sense. Or perhaps he's a shadier sort of drifter that just pretends to be employed to take a closer look at the townsfolk. Oh well.. it matters little. The facts of life remain unchanged: crumpets! drinks! the smell of upcoming adventure in the air! What else could an aging ex-adventurer Academic ask for?

Book quickly swipes the last crumpet, and announces "Moe! A round on me for all these strangers!" -- had to make up for finishing off the crumpets.

[Darvi]

"You're going to buy them all a drink, but not your fellow villagers?" He lifts his head. "Not that it matters though, since I don't require sustenance right now."

He stares into the air. "Dark days are coming. Best you enjoy yourself now, I guess." He flips a page, then starts scribbling again.

[Book]

"Erm, yes, of course. A round for everyone, I meant." Book wishes he could go back and edit his previous statement. "The preponderance of strange folk around called for me to address them explicitly, so they wouldn't feel left out. But the locals know they're always included when it's my turn to get a round."

"But yeah, what he said: eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die! Well, the eating is on hold for a moment, since I finished off the crumpets, but I'm sure that Akhier fellow will be along soon with something else from Mrs. Miggins' Pie Shop."

[Akhier the Dragon hearted]

   "Sigh..." Akhier goes back into the kitchen while
wondering what that Book fellow thought he was. Truly
this will be a busy night.

[Leafsnail]

"...I'm afraid I still can't.  Sorry, Moe."  As usual, Jack refuses a drink from the bartender.  He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a flask of water.  He seems to check it for a moment, and, when satisfied, removes the lid and takes a small sip.  He pauses, before taking a long draft.

It's said that he never fills his flask from the same tap twice in a row.  The reason why is unclear, but it may be related to the fact that he always seems to share his meals, and always makes sure his dining partner starts eating first.

[Toaster]

Thrakor eyes Book warily.  A strange man, buying drinks for the other strangers?  Thrakor senses danger in the air- strange people coming to upset the ways of this quiet village.  What is going on?

He sips his drink quietly and continues to observe.



((I've always done double paren for OOC, but whatever works for you folks.  I'm using a different name since it's hard to reconcile Toaster into this class of RP.))

[SaintDraze]

The Bacon Monk hears the clinking of the bar glasses being passed out

He rushes into the bar as subtly as possible To gain some refreshment.


He manages to gain possession of one of the glasses of beer.
He then takes his drink outside to enjoy it in privacy...

He manages to drink the beverage for 30 seconds before realizing that as a Discipline of the Gold swine, He is forbidden to partake of ale that is not bacon based.

He decides that his punishment must be 3 days of fasting and 4 hours of slamming his head upon the cobblestone road that is frequently used by the merchant guild horses.

After purging the unholy liquid from his system of course...

The bacon monk decides that there is no way this day can get any worse

[Book]

OOC: ((double parentheses are handy for OOC stuff as well, seem to work better for inline comments. People will use what they find comfortable, of course.))

Book downs the rest of this drink, and calls to Moe. "Barkeep! Hit me!" Moe smiles knowingly, saying "Sure thing, prof! You're always more fun where you're into your second dozen anyway. Should I get the Karaoke machine going yet?" Book stiffens on his seat, murmurs some musical notes, and decides his throat is not up to it at the moment. "No, the crowd seems more boring than I expected. Strippers would be good, but the Rockettes left town last week, and the current batch seem to have driven in from the frickin' Jersey Shore. Disgraceful. Nah, Moe, let me instead study judiciously the motley crew that gathered under your roof tonight."

Book engages his auxiliary brain, a wearable computer made from parts of old Holoform Modulators, with an Intel package as central processing unit, salvaged from a hapless Exterminator some months ago; the recent addition of Combat Camo parts make it almost invisible to the untrained eye. He starts taking notes discreetly for future reference. "Let's see..." he murmurs and begins typing.

We seem to have:

• ((Darvi)) A young man sitting by himself drawing on a notebook; didn't catch his name, but I think he's a local.
• ((Jokerman-EXE)) A dapper gentleman with a golden cape. Osiris was his name, according to Moe. Seems to have an air of magic about him.
• ((Akhier)) A master crumpetcrafter that may or may not work at Mrs. Miggins' kitchen next door; calls himself Akhier, and seems new to town but to fit in well enough.
• ((Leafsnail)) Jack, that hapless fellow with the stammer that Moe rescued from a well some time ago. Has been quietly working away on the other side of the bar. Something seems to be amiss with him, but I can't put my finger on it (it may get infected).
• ((SaintDraze)) A bacon-obsessed little goblin of a man. From his demeanor he may be some monk from foreign lands, but at times he seems more like one of those doppelgangers the Aliens get so worked up about. It's hard to understand a word he says, and I'm familiar with a number of foreign languages.
• ((Pandarsenic)) A Victorian gentleman who seems to be stranded here when his time machine malfunctioned, goes by the name Pandar. I wonder whether his flux capacitor is still the old plutonium-requiring module, or if he has the Mr.Fusion upgrade to be able to use organic matter as fuel. If he comes around, I may find some spare parts for him.
• ((Mysteriousbluepuppet)) William, I think his name was, seems to be a typical labourer/gun-for-hire, with a crude ponytail. Can't say much about him yet.
• ((Toaster)) A morose man with the look of many adventures under his belt. Has kept to himself, I haven't heard him even tell his name to anyone, but my portable Scanner finds a concealed nametag on his chest reading "Hello, my name is Thrakor".
• ((NativeForeigner hasn't posted yet)) I'm pretty sure there's someone else about, but I've failed to catch anything about him at all.
• ((Book)) I guess the list would be incomplete without including myself in it: a Professor at the University, leading the Alien Technology research labs and faculty. His extensive work on the matter has allowed his adjutants to continue to be undefeated in Paranormal challenges, but has been less successful when dealing with the Supernatural, and as trophy of such has Zathras' animated, soulless corpse stored at the University. This situation should be rectified. He is much older than he looks, which would surprise people given how old he already looks. A bit taller than average and a robust, bulky frame (no, not "plump", merely stout). Bearded and bespectacled, with suspenders under his academic robes, has what some have described as "the Unix guru look". When not entranced by his work or studies, he is a festive, approachable fellow, common sight at taverns and other gathering places, and enjoys the chance to meet passers-by for an interesting perspective. People don't know, but before he settled at the University (and in fact still on occasion) he enjoys adventuring and dungeon-crawling just for the challenges they provide. Moe was an old adventuring-party fellow of his, with extensive knowledge of alchemy, chemistry, weaponry, and stealth, as well as dealings with beings from other planes of existence ("Moe Phansteras" some called him then)... but we don't discuss this in public; Moe's pleasant everyman face and demeanor make bartending the perfect work for him, allowing him to keep an eye on the town without raising eyebrows.

"Moe, it's getting late, and something tells me tomorrow will be an interesting day. I'll have one or two more, in case any of these fellows have anything interesting to say, or a fancy for Karaoke, and then I'd better be getting home."

[Leafsnail]

Jack looks over Book's shoulder.  It's somewhat difficult to work out what he's doing.  He recognises that he appears to be writing, and that "Jack" seems to appear in it somewhere.  This thing... doesn't look like it could kill him just from containing his name, but he still doesn't trust it.

"Excuse me sir... why are you writing on that thing?"

[Book]

Book is done with his notes, and looks up. "Oh, Hey Jack! Good to see you. Is Moe treating you all right?" he says to Jack with a smile. "This? Oh, just taking notes for future reference. Look here, this is what your entry says:"

Jack, that hapless fellow with the stammer that Moe rescued from a well some time ago. Has been quietly working away on the other side of the bar. Something seems to be amiss with him, but I can't put my finger on it (it may get infected).

"If I got something wrong, feel free to correct it. But tell me, what has been bothering you lately? Even though you are a reserved fellow, even Moe noticed something is different about you of late. People being as they are, I can't blame you for a bit of healthy mistrust, but that's not all that is up, is it?"

[Leafsnail]

Jack squints at the writing a bit.  He can... remember what a couple of the letters mean, but only his name jumps out at him as readable.  But since he only appears in one paragraph, it seems that the document probably isn't about him, so he decides to pay it no further heed.

"Yes, sir.  Well... I can't really explain it.  There isn't really any reason to feel worse.  But... well, You remember when Steven got stabbed out back?  Or the night every window in the bar got broke, and we never found out why?  I had... this feeling then.  I've got it now, only... a lot more.  So I decided it might be a good idea to tighten my defences."

You notice that Jack is still fiddling with the lid of his flask.

[Book]

"Yes, sir.  Well... I can't really explain it.  There isn't really any reason to feel worse.  But... well, You remember when Steven got stabbed out back?  Or the night every window in the bar got broke, and we never found out why?  I had... this feeling then.  I've got it now, only... a lot more.  So I decided it might be a good idea to tighten my defences."
You notice that Jack is still fiddling with the lid of his flask.

"I know exactly what you mean, young man" Book responds. "There's an impending smell of Doom upon the air. I sense something awful but interesting is afoot. You are wiser than you give yourself credit for by being cautious. I will do as you suggest, and tighten my own defences as well. But I think we have a few more hours before catastrophe arrives, so we should enjoy them while we can. In the mean time, if I may offer some suggestion, take this to heart: Moe is a good man, and wiser than he looks. If you feel at a loss, confide in him..."

Book notices Jack fiddling with his flask and adds "I feel there's something else bothering you... out with it, man! I'll help if I can!" then thinks to himself "or maybe his flask is just not working right? I have some spare Personal Refrigeration Units built from Alien shields at the University, which I could give him as an upgrade... or is there something bothering him about the contents? oh well, let him speak and we'll go from there."

"In any case, Jack, do tell me if you have any particular feelings or misgivings about the strange or local folk about these days. The future remains to be written, but your thoughts can go into the record now, if you choose to give them."

"Oh well. The next days may be hard, but I wish you the best success on dealing with them, young Jack; life has been hard on you, and I hope that if temptation and opportunity strike you, you will choose to be kind to the town instead of taking misunderstood revenge upon it."

[Leafsnail]

"Oh, I don't think Moe will ever do me harm.  But... you could say it's a matter of principle.  When I start letting my guard down to him, maybe I'll become more sloppy in other areas... which reminds me."

Jack takes a pen out of his pocket.  He quickly scribbles something on the lid of his flask.  Or... on the tape that he seems to have applied to the lid of his flask?

"My flask is fine.  I just... don't want anyone else to tamper with it, is all.

Unfortunately, I have to say this feeling is a bit... directionless.  I'm afraid I have no specific misgivings about anyone here.  On the other hand... I will try to defend this town.  I'd prefer this known danger to an unknown peril..."

[SaintDraze]

((actually my character is quite large...
8'11 tall, 600 pounds of muscle...
The size of an ork.
May as well get the rest of the description away.
completely bald,
his dome glistens sickly due to the chilly days of this medieval summer, which to him is akin to what bacon hell must be.
He has a new cloth hat with a label that says Steve on it, meaning you can decide the name if you want or you can just go by the hat..
For every transgression, Accidental or other wise, He always feels the need to give himself harsh punishment followed by 3 days of fasting.
Since he can't communicate well and his customs are vastly different from the towns custom his comes off to everyone as rather rude and weird.

And I would have thought if anyone were to be able to understand his dialect it would be Prof. Book))

After the 6 hours(2 extra hours added for missing meditation time) of head injury the monk goes back to the tavern to try to meet the people of the town in the case that some grievous misgivings occur.
The monk would be the obvious scrapegoat if anything were to cause the town to fall into chaos

[Toaster]

Thrakor looks at the strange monk struggling to fit into a seat, and decides now would be the time to see if he could get a bit more information.  The older fellow with the beard- Book? - seems to be the most talkative.  He finishes his drink and walks over.

"Book, was it?  What brings you to our little village?  Seems to be quite the group of strangers coming by today."

He glances warily at the monk.

"I can tell you folk aren't from anywhere around here.  Any idea what caused so many to arrive here together?"

Leaning in closer, he lowers his voice a bit.

"It's fine if an outsider visits, but we don't like it if they try anything funny."

He scowls and leans back.  He then waves at the bartender for another drink.