sticksandbones | I Never Will Play the Wild Rover No More

Who: Luca Aurelius and YOU
What: It's a bar log. For all your drinking needs. Make your own top-levels and have your own bar-related fun here.
When: End of March up to just before the event
Where: The Watchtower Bar
Warnings: Alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.

It sure has been a month, hasn't it? And it's probably been made all the worse by the fact that Luca has been keeping the bar closed more often than not. Someone's had a lot on his mind, you see. Even when the bar has been open, Luca's presence has been missing, with only the spirit to tend to any, well... spirits you might have needed! There's no stew over the fire, or anything like that. It's great for drinking, but not much else.

But he can only wallow in misery for so long. And by that, we mean deal with the spirit occupying his walls, staring at him somberly every time he refuses to open the doors.

So, finally, toward the end of March, the doors to the bar open. One night at first. Then a second. By the third, it's the longest stretch they've stayed open since everything went to shit! Moreover, a pot of stew always seems to be brewing, a fresh deck of cards has been laid out on the table, and a new, makeshift dartboard has been prepared.

Well. If ever there's been a time to party, it's now. Grab your alcohol from your host, or do your own thing. It's about time the Grove got to relax.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Sounds like a fine way to get chased out of a place. [Listen. He would know.]

In my travels, I've found that a bit more subtlety can go a long way. Or at least ensure I am not sleeping out in the cold for an evening.

[He pours some wine into Passenger's glass.]

Not that it would ever be an issue in this town. People are far too kindly for all of that, don't you think?

[The pour is appreciated, and he'll take a short drink before motioning to a nearby seat. Sit for a spell, bartender.]

Quite. Rarely in my travels have I met kinder, though I have heard of a few "bad eggs" in the crop at one point. I wonder if that kindness is merely so that we can all survive? What lies beneath the veneer?

[.............Passenger.]

[He doesn't argue. If anything, his own curiosity has been piqued by Passenger's behavior. Why wouldn't he want to learn more?

Notably, though, he won't be drinking.]

I oft wonder that myself. How many are playing nice for the sake for making peace. It is not helped when we have a much larger enemy than ourselves to contend with.

What I would not give to actually know what kind of people our neighbors are.

Such observations are more readily made in combat, [he says, gesturing with a flat hand at nothing in particular — more to the outside world, where there's often more strife than peace.] For instance, does a fire within one's eyes signify enjoyment of battle, or fury at the circumstances? Does something sadistic hide within each thrust of a blade, or is it mere survival? Are the blows swift and painless, or meant to lacerate without cessation, only for the enemy to bleed out?

Were the mutual enemies here removed... would we find ourselves at the end of one another's blades, I wonder?

Unfortunately - [His mouth presses into a thin line, while his jaw clenches.] I missed the last opportunity to witness anyone in combat.

[he squints up at Passenger for a long moment, still trying to read him.]

You established, in a place where lies were not so feasible, that while your past was a bloodied one, you sought no innocent blood. So I would imagine some of us would be saved from your blade.

Or is that an incorrect assumption?

Mere speculation about the others, [he explains.] I work toward cooperation. I have no reason to seek anything but. My bloodied past does not influence my future, at least, I would like to think so. Though, I cannot say what I would do or how I would react were Sesa to come to harm.

I Never Will Play the Wild Rover No More

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