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So A Fey'ri Walks Into a Bar... - Printable Version

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So A Fey'ri Walks Into a Bar... - Torynn Du'elen - 07-05-2018

One of the things that Torynn tended to do as she sat in the shop was watch Oryn work, which she did at least a few hours here and there. Oryn was interesting, and those who came into the shop sometimes brought eye-catching things. Things she sometimes wanted Oryn to buy, if only to sate her curiosity… But another thing that happened as she watched the wizard was that she would speak to the customers who came in to sell their items or buy something in the store.

That was how she had heard about this tavern; some of the customers that had come into the store had mentioned it, and spoken highly of the place and the innkeeper that ran it.

Good alcohol and food, paired with soothing music and run by someone who was competent was a combination that Torynn didn’t see the point in passing up. So the fey’ri approached the tavern in a tree with a grin; it was cozy looking, and while that sometimes meant poor, it also often meant an attentive staff. She had grown accustomed to living in Hub, where a fey’ri drew fewer frightened or angry eyes, where wings and a tail might not be commonplace, but were common enough that you didn’t have to mask yourself to blend in.

So it was that the pink skinned half-demon walked into the Wandering Moon, smiling as she entered, tailed swishing behind her as she moved to find a seat where she might order a meal.


RE: So A Fey'ri Walks Into a Bar... - Arjay Lo'Ran - 07-07-2018

Tonight was a good night.

The band that was playing in the corner was one that had traveled very, very widely, picking up quite a lot of songs, just the sort that Arjay liked to bring into the bar for the sheer novelty of it. Right now, they were playing a song that he could hear strong dwarvish inspiration in, but that Earth-backed people called ‘vaguely Celtic.’ He only recognized two of the instruments being played, which gave the music quite an original sound to his ears.

The bar itself was lively, and it was the good sort of lively, where the roars were laughs and not angry shouts. He himself was at the top of the stairs, peering down from the balcony above at the main floor of the tavern, a pleased smile on his face, a tankard of ale in his hand, content for the moment to revel vicariously through the people below. Even when he was in quite the quiet mood, the atmosphere of the bar felt good to absorb.

Of course, tonight that atmosphere included a fey’ri.

The wings and tail were, of course, huge tip-offs to what he was dealing with. Yes, like anyone else on Faerun, he was quite aware of those whose bloodline was touched by the infernal, and yes, he himself had been on quite friendly terms with a tiefling or two in his time in the dales. When you were the black sheep of Myth Drannor, you tended to find associations with all types, and when you were a semi-secret spy, you tended to end up talking with a wide variety of drinking partners. Mostly, he’d learned what people generally already knew about them: You couldn’t help who your parents were.

Among elves, though… demonic blood among elves was quite the rare thing. It had, naturally, come to light a few years past by his own reckoning, when elves who had quite literally drank in demonic essence had tried to take over the ruins of Myth Drannor. There wasn’t anything ambiguous about Daemonfey. The question was, of course, was this girl one who had drank in the essence of a demon, or was this just some poor misbegotten child that a devil had gotten onto an elf?

A moment later, the elf was sitting down a few stools down at the bar, setting his now-empty tankard down on the bar. “Something darker this time,” he told the bartender. “That Dwarven stout we have on tap, the one that says it came from the Ten Towns, let’s try that one.” If nothing else, he could let the demon-touched girl have a moment of warning that someone from her world was about.

RE: So A Fey'ri Walks Into a Bar... - Torynn Du'elen - 07-09-2018

The tavern in the tree seemed like the lively little place. Cozy and warm, but bustling and busy. Good. This many people, with good music playing, well, it meant the food would be fresh, the drinks flowing, and people would be merry. All in all, it sounded like tonight was shaping up to be a good one.

She took a seat at the bar to order her night’s meal and something strong and tasty to drink, patiently waiting her turn for service. She was plenty capable of slipping behind the bar and serving herself, but she had no wish to find herself put out of the pleasant tavern, and she was in no hurry. Amazing how that was when the music was good and the crowd cheerful.

And that was when the voice of another came, more close than she would have thought, speaking about Dwarven stout from Ten Towns.

That likely meant nothing good.

Torynn’s pink skin shimmered momentarily, the innate magic she used sometimes to conceal her true form only beginning to be cast at the knowledge that someone might not be pleased to find a fey’ri…


The spell was dropped before it was fully cast; this place, this city in between worlds was as much hers as anyone else’s who hadn’t been born to it. She had the right to be in it, to live here, just as this other did. She straightened, glancing over the direction the voice had come from, and tensed.

Elves. They thought so highly of themselves. Called themselves the peak of civilization, pretended to be better than all of the other races. And yet they judged with a single glance, hated what they viewed as a mar on their race. Torynn’s tail slipped silently to rest on the dagger at her waist, though she made no move to draw it, and she leaned toward the bartender who came to wait on her, “Stew, and something strong and expensive to drink.” The coins she placed on the bartop were from her home world, a tiny part of though bounty of Paaris that she had split with Oryn.

Let the elf come to her. She had done no wrong here.


RE: So A Fey'ri Walks Into a Bar... - Arjay Lo'Ran - 07-19-2018

Well, she wasn’t going to back down, that had become apparent. She wasn’t even trying to be subtle about things, wash she? He’d given enough warning that she could have slid away the demonic features, but there she was, bold as brass, drawing in more attention. Well, he supposed it could hardly be said that he laid an ambush upon some poor innocent here, could it? All the same, it was his bloody bar. He'd had quite enough on Faerun of having to smile and bear it while the forces of evil smirked in his face at his inability to remove them from his own damned inn, he wasn't going to begin putting up with it here now.

“You know, Vic,” Arjay mused pointedly to the bartender, “There are such terribly conflicting impulses that I find myself in. On one hand… the master of the house is supposed to be courteous. Welcome those within, make sure that they’re cared for, not be an overbearing arse…” He shrugged, reaching for the tankard of ale that was set down in front of him and taking a long pull from it. “Gods, this is good. About as strong as I remembered,” he remarked, then took another pull before setting the tankard down.

“On the other hand, I get to worry about the safety of the people here, which means I get to throw anything unbecoming out on its arse when it starts a fight. Remember those brutes last week that we had to eject through the wall?” He shared a quiet chuckle with the bartender at the memory as he sat back on his seat. “So we need to watch for who’s the innocent, and who’s been drinking in the darkness. Not to mention… some things ought know that we don’t quite take kindly to our hospitality being abused to insult us, oughtn’t they?”

Pretense dropping, he turned in his stool until he was peering down the bar at the demon-child. “So… I suppose that in the interest of being a good host to my other guests, I’ll need to ask which you are, and in the interest of being a good host to you, I’ll need to pay for your drinks to make up for the impertinence of it.”

RE: So A Fey'ri Walks Into a Bar... - Torynn Du'elen - 07-22-2018

It wasn’t really in Toryn’s nature to just back down. Especially when she hadn’t even done anything wrong in the first place. She had come into the bar quietly, approached the bar, taken a seat, and had placed an order. She had even put her payment on the counter for all to see. But no, the elf just had to continue to carry on, didn’t he? She didn’t care about his hardship of letting other people be at peace. She didn’t care…

Well damn. That changed things, now didn’t it? The uppity elf owned the tavern. The customers at the shop hadn’t let that little bit of amazingly useful intel slip. Owned by a damn elf. So much for a quiet drink and good music and a pleasant night just relaxing before going home and finishing the wand of levitate that she was in the midst of making.

Drinking in the darkness. Some things ought to know better, should they? Things, not even acknowledged as people should know better than to come in to a tavern just because the owner had pointy ears and though themselves higher, better, than everyone else. Elves just couldn’t accept that they weren’t at the top of the world, that for all their long years (hers were just as long if not longer) they did not know everything, and their opinions and assumptions weren’t necessarily correct. If not for Ivellious, Toryn would have said she hated elves. And yet, one of her closest friends had had the slender ears and light footedness. Never mind that his skin had been the color of obsidian and his hair snow white. He’d been a good person, out to save the world from evil and all of that rhetoric he so often preached in the way only a paladin could.

Behind her, her tail whipped through the air just once before growing still and rigid, emerald eyes falling to the elf even as he looked at her, her face hard with anger and insult, “Oh, but look at me, isn’t it so very obvious which I am?” She sneered and rolled her eyes, “I’ve been in this room for but a moment but look, here I am, insulting the goodly people here by having the audacity to even exist, to breathe the same air as those who deem themselves better than me.” She’d had enough of elves thinking themselves so much better than her. Of elves like Paaris who had decided that her staff should be his because it was powerful and she didn’t deserve the thing she had created. And if her words held a bitter edge to them, who could blame her? She looked the part, and thus she must be monstrous. She gave him an angry smile, “Or should I assume you accost all of your new patrons in a similar manner?”