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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?”


RE: So A Fey'ri Walks Into a Bar... - Arjay Lo'Ran - 07-23-2018

Arjay gritted his teeth, covering the reaction by taking another sip of the ale through them. It couldn't have been as simple as a possibly angry admission that she simply had a demonic father. She could have been lying, naturally, but it would have shown, at least, that she was attempting to lie low and not create any problems. Granted, if she truly wanted to lie low, she might not have been flaunting her nature so blatantly, but that was hardly the point, now, was it?

But no, she had to try to play the same passive-aggressive angles that the Drow liked to use to try to make them look bad in front of fools who wanted to think that the Drow were by and large just misunderstood elves with dark skin. "You know," he mused, "When I've found myself in human villages that have had unfortunate encounters with the Eldreth Velthura, the inclination is to denounce them for the monsters they are, as loudly and sincerely as I can. No real trouble there, they are monsters. Those who like to play the victim for pity? I tend to find that they're playing an angle."

He took a look around his bar at the largely human patrons, then shrugged back at her. "I don't know the Earth-world politics," he said. "If one of them came in dressed and tattooed up like a Red Wizard, he'd probably find himself lying in the street outside before he'd made it ten steps into the bar. That one is simple, clear signs that indicate a choice. So let's try this again, and for those of us present who seem to be challenged in the department of manners and comprehension, I'll speak a bit more plainly. I could be accosting you for the sins of your ancestors, in which case I owe you an apology, or I could be accosting you for a choice to drink in the essence of a demon, in which case we're about to be tonight's entertainment for the other patrons." He smiled a sweet smile which didn't reach his eyes, cocking his head inquisitively. "Do you think that, perhaps, you could cease your unbecoming display of victimhood long enough to answer the bloody question?"

RE: So A Fey'ri Walks Into a Bar... - Torynn Du'elen - 07-29-2018

This place was supposed to be safe. A place of acceptance and tolerance. Elves couldn’t be like that, though. They all thought themselves so beautiful and perfect, even when they were being ugly and hateful. Toryn was tired of being judged at a glance. Of being told that what she was wasn’t enough, that she had to pretend at being something else. This city was supposed to be the one in which she didn’t have to hide, to apologize for the sins of her mother, or even explain that the sins weren’t hers.

“I’m not a victim.” The words were spoken quietly, the fey’ri hadn’t raised her voice yet; they were close enough to speak conversationally, even if she were angry, she wouldn’t draw that sort of attention to herself. “I’m not playing. This city,” she gestured around them, encompassing not just the tavern but the entirety of Hub, “Is not Toril. Your judgement is out of place here, where people are supposed to judge you based on your actions, not your appearance.” She sighed, the sound was quiet, but heavy on her lips, “I just wanted to come in, have a drink and a meal, and enjoy a crowded, happy place. Where is the harm in that?” She muttered into her cup, “Instead I have to defend my existence. Again.”

Her eyes again returned to the elf when he mentioned red wizards, and wrinkled her nose, “Oh, please don’t compare me to them… That’s just…” She made a noise in the back of her throat that said plenty of her feelings about the red wizards of Thay; disgust chief among them. Okay, so maybe she had her own judgements… But they weren’t based on what a person looked like! The elf… Tried. Oh, it was still spoken in a pitch that said blatantly how he felt, but… He was trying, and she could respect that. “Who in their right mind would drink in the essence of a demon?? Even Mother, damn her to the darkest layer of the Abyss, didn’t do that!” She made another face, again disgust, but maybe just a touch of pity, too. Her soul was what it was, but it was how it had been made to be. She hadn’t gone and done something vile to become what she was today.

“Alright, then. You insist on knowing the nature of my existence, I’ll tell you.” Toryn took a deep breath, then spoke calmly, quietly, “A very, very long time ago, my mother decided that for elves to flourish, or more likely to rule the world, they needed to become stronger. So she summoned a demon. An incubus to be exactly and lay with it. That union resulted in myself being born for the “glorious” purpose of putting an end to those who disagreed with the elves’ superiority. I declined to live up to that purpose, and someone, I don’t even know who put me to sleep for… However long it was I slept before someone woke me up.” She shrugged, “Enough of an answer for you?” The question wasn't angry, but Toryn wasn't going to divulge the details, the intimate bits, of her life if she didn't need to. Not to this elf who was so eager to judge her.

For the first time in a long while, she was grateful to have Oryn as a friend. He hadn't judged her, or demanded her story.


RE: So A Fey'ri Walks Into a Bar... - Arjay Lo'Ran - 08-17-2018

Arjay was, naturally, sorry to burst anyone’s preconceptions about what sort of place this was. Honestly, he was. That didn’t mean, though, that reality was just going to conform to what Torynn had come to think of this place as. “You’re right, this isn’t Toril. This is my home, and unlike my home in Toril, I don’t have to sit here and let Zhents, Drow, orcs, anything dangerous to me or those I care for go unmolested just because it would be politically inconvenient.” His pupils glowed with an inner violet light, though he did nothing to actually apply his power. “I am Arjay Lo’Ran, Chosen of Sune, and I have spent my lifetime watching pretty faces play upon the good hearts of those around them for their own gain, in settings just like this, and I will not let it happen in my house.” And in the end, that was what the Moon was. Yes, it was an inn, yes, it was a business, but it was where he had made his home. It was where his friends came for him, where he watched out for his world, where his love came for him, where his child-to-be had begun its existence. That was something more sacred than any business, even any temple, to Arjay. “I am the last person that you need tell about appearance not telling the entire story, but I am not naïve enough to simply let that fact stand and not find out what the story actually is.”

And, of course, then she finally started speaking straightly to him, making him wonder what, precisely, had been so hard about that? “Well, yes, comparing anyone to those fools is rather insulting. If you know a better example I could use, I’m more than open to adding it to my repertoire,” he allowed. “And my understanding is that if you’re a power-hungry witch like Sarya Dlardrageth, you replace a part of your spirit with the essence of a demon in order to be able to cast High Magic without a circle and without destroying yourself in the process. I’ve seen the results of the process using an eladrin instead of a demon… it’s admittedly impressive, although the sheer arrogance that it takes to modify your spirit says something about the person that can’t be refuted.”

He listened carefully to her story… and what’s more, he believed it. It sounded right, it made sense… oh, and the magic he used to discern the truth of her words told him that she wasn’t deceiving him. The telltale push of magic was obvious, he knew that she’d feel it, but it was a much less invasive spell than if he’d cast a zone of truth around her and forced her to tell the truth or used Heartfire to burn away her lies. “Yes, quite enough of an answer for me,” he confirmed, gesturing to the bartender. “No bill for the lady tonight, she’s paid us quite enough, I think.”

“At least she had the taste to pick a demon that seems appealing. I shudder to think of what Sarya had to bed to create that monstrous son of hers.”

RE: So A Fey'ri Walks Into a Bar... - Torynn Du'elen - 08-22-2018

It was a dangerous thing, in Torynn's experience, to assume that anyone would be fair or tolerant of those who were different than themselves. Half breeds tended to be better than others, but even that was a rare thing. The fey'ri considered herself quite lucky to have three friends she knew without doubt she could trust. Unfortunately, neither of those individuals had found their way to Hub. "Everyone is dangerous to anyone they have the will to do harm to.” The words were spoken quietly with no threat in her tone, but instead an almost sadness and a warning. Almost as soon as she was done speaking, Torynn raised a hand to forestall any angry words he might have for her, “Not that I’m arguing your point. Protecting yourself and your loved ones is an admirable goal.” She sighed at his introduction but returned the favor all the same, “I am Torynnsin Du’elen, once-scion of House Nightflower, and I am tired of being thought evil and monstrous because my mother made some very poor life choices.” With a huff, she told him, “It’s not like I eat babies or carry away maidens; I sell magic wands and things.”

It was less that telling her story was difficult and more that she didn’t think she should have to tell it in the first place. Still, Torynn made a face at Sarya’s name that was a mixture of disgust and horror and just a touch of fear. Sarya was cruel and evil and scary. “My closest friends are a human priest of Tyr and a drow paladin of the same god. I count myself blessed that I had no such inclinations of the sort you mentioned, or I would have neither.”

He used magic to assure himself that her words were true. She minded the same way she minded having to tell her story at all, but she supposed it wasn’t the most unkind thing he could have done. He believed her, which was expected when you used a spell to ensure honesty, but… “I suppose I’m expected to wear a disguise were I to come here again? Or is this to be my first, last, and only visit to your inn?” It wouldn’t be the first such place she’d been asked not to return to, and she understood, even if she hated it.

With a snort, she told him, “My mother was misguided. Not evil, but desperate to win my grandfather’s approval. That didn’t stop her from being… Picky. She wanted me to be beautiful. My grandfather wanted me to be powerful and as corrupt as he was. In the end, neither of them were entirely pleased.”


RE: So A Fey'ri Walks Into a Bar... - Arjay Lo'Ran - 08-25-2018

‘Because my mother made some very poor life choices.’ Arjay couldn’t help cracking a smirk at that. It was the sort of thing he would have said, probably in some very inappropriately serious setting (such as a meeting with the Coronal, which might go to explain why he was not in the good graces of Myth Drannor’s hierarchy anymore). It did make his attitude toward her lighten a bit. If he couldn’t afford to keep good humor in a situation like this, what was he coming to? “Well naturally not. Babies would be the easier thing to carry away, you lose far too much mobility if you’re carrying a fully-grown maiden.” Nevertheless, much of the bite had gone out of his words. He could tell where the revelations were headed at this point.

The idea of a Drow paladin made Arjay’s head hurt, but he had spent enough time around the faithful (and supposed-faithful) of Eilistraee to push past that. “Much easier to deal with than the paladins of Helm. Hard-headed oafs… ‘why?’ ‘Because it’s our duty!’ ‘Yes, but why?’ ‘DUTY!!’” he griped. Did he have a problem with paladins? Not even slightly. Did he want to punch blind-faith Helmites? Why yes, on occasion, he did.

Her slight detour back toward self-pity (or so he termed it ungraciously in his head) elicited a careless shrug from him. “As you said, we’re not in Toril. How you present yourself is quite up to you. All I needed was an answer, and I have that now, even if I had to sacrifice a fair bit of my tact to do it.” The elf viewed what he’d done as a necessary evil, and honestly figured that his precautions should have been expected. This was about as close to an apology as he was likely to make, at least any time soon. Nevertheless, he did find himself raising an eyebrow as she spoke about her family. “Well, I can see his misgivings, but what did your mother have to complain of with the result?” No, he wasn’t over the whole ‘spawn of a demon’ bit enough to lay the charm on like he otherwise might with a lovely lady, but he couldn’t really find any fault with her beauty when he pushed aside the implications that the demonic features created.

RE: So A Fey'ri Walks Into a Bar... - Torynn Du'elen - 08-29-2018

Sure, yeah, it was funny, but it was also the simple, unadorned truth. Her mother had lain with an incubus for the explicit purpose of getting with child. To make her. The smile from the elf pulled Torynn's own lips up into a smile as well. Hard not to return a smile when you actually agreed with the sentiment. "Well sure... Maidens are heavy, even if they are dainty. But I can't imagine either to taste very good." Torynn began to relax a little at a time as she realized the elf wasn't going to demand her life story or kick her out of the tavern on principle.

A drow paladin, yes. Who had been in the midst of fighting for his life against own people when she had first met him. Torynn would admit that, in general, she disliked the Drow (the evil kind at least) as much as most elves did, but her old friend was the exception. She laughed, more easily than she expected, but wasn't that nice? "Helmites... It's been some time since I've come across one of those, but you’re not wrong about at least some of them."

Not in Toril. No, they weren't, and honestly, she was happier here, far from Sarya and her brood, from those who recognized her for what she was and would hate her for it. Present company excluded. With a wince at his words, Torynn gave him a slight nod, "Sorry. It gets old, even if it's understandable." The compliment earned a stunned blink, the Fey’ri quiet for a long moment, unaccustomed to any such comments, though she recovered fairly quickly. "I think it was my skin tone, to be honest, though I doubt the wings and tail did much to help there,” she laughed quietly, "Just not enough elf in here for her. As for my grandfather, imagine his surprise and disappointment when I just wanted to study and play with my cat."


RE: So A Fey'ri Walks Into a Bar... - Arjay Lo'Ran - 09-20-2018

Arjay considered her supposition, going through various encounters he’d had, then shrugged. “Well, personally, I’ve never noticed a difference in the taste of a maiden and a woman who’s not, but it’s entirely possible that I’ve simply been lied to on many, many occasions about the virtue of the women I’ve known and have never actually known a true maiden,” he admitted. It was unlikely, of course, but… well, it’s not like this was exactly how she’d meant the phrase anyway.

“Oh, even the best of them can be insufferably foolish. I suppose that there’s a message there about strict dogmas and the personalities they engender,” he mused. Even Krysdan… but no, he was most certainly not sending his mind there right now.

“Oh, I’m sure it does,” Arjay admitted, and now, finally, he felt a little bad. “My last home was an inn I ran outside Shadowdale, and I spent years enduring the Zhentarim coming in, making a mockery of me and mine, lording the fact over us that they could do as they wished and we had to serve them anyway. Nothing can make one despise rules so much as people who know how to twist them to neuter their spirit.” He shook his head. Yes, admittedly, this whole encounter was as much about him as it was about her heritage. “Although now you make me question whether or not we’re done here. Anyone who’d choose a cat…” He smirked at her, motioning for Vic to come refill his glass.

RE: So A Fey'ri Walks Into a Bar... - Torynn Du'elen - 09-30-2018

This elf wasn’t all that bad, really. Torynn laughed, the sort of laughter that came from deep within you, when you honestly found something funny. It tinkled like an elf maiden’s might, though there was something else in it as well. “Well then, it does make me wonder why some are so very discerning about which they prefer!”

She was smiling. Not just the small smiles that were more smirks she often wore, no, this was a genuine thing, happy and amused and… And it was because of an elf. Oh, if her so-called ‘brethren’ could see her now. Not that they really hated elves, it wasn’t quite so passionate, but none of them liked their forefathers. She couldn’t say she was fond of elves, even after meeting this one, but she would say that this made two who had managed to make her laugh and smile, even if Ivellious was a drow. “It’s true. But even the less strict ones can sometimes draw certain types of people.” She shrugged, “I personally will never trust a follower of Mask or worse, Cyric.” She frowned, her face growing more serious as she muttered, “And damn all the followers of Myrkul, may they all rot with their god. Nasty, evil creatures, all that I’ve met.” And she’d met no few, that was for certain. Her and her friends had been dragged into that whole ordeal without any consent at all.

Gods. Rarely seemed inclined to offer you much of a choice.

For the good of the world. To save all the souls of those yet to die. To make the world right once again. Toryn would have sighed, but she didn’t want her elven companion to think it was at him. No, she just didn’t have a very good track record with gods like Lathander and Kelemvor. Tyr was… Well, she couldn’t say she didn’t like him, not after she’d travelled around all the realms with two of his devoted followers, could she? Whitefyre would be aghast. Come to think of it, they both would be.

“Zhents,” Torynn wrinkled her nose. No one liked the Zhentarim. Wait. “Shadowdale?” She frowned, considering, “I lived not all that far from there.” Not that she knew much about the place; she had spent most of her time hiding, and when she had gone out, she’d made sure to disguise herself for fear of being discovered. But that was neither here nor there. “Well, I asked for a blink dog pup, but the tressym was what my grandfather gave me. She was a good companion, though. She could fly with me.” This time, Torynn didn’t bother to hide the emotion behind her words; she was fond, and she missed Eclipse.