03/08/998, Talismarr Jubileum, Grolmin's Grindhouse

 
Moony

Moony scratches hastily on the chalk board around his neck. He writes: "Moony, its a pleasure."

Jarl Spitesnarl

"The name is Jarl," he said as he rested a hand on Kluh's shoulder. "And this is our new friend Kluh. We appreciate your assistance."

His eyes scanned the place before coming to rest on the halfling once more. It was a good place to disappear for awhile when they needed a room, but he was leery of favors in this town, especially when he'd just arrived.

A mean tempered small time thug for hire always lookin for an easy buck, lucky enough to still be alive, but not enough to have much money.
Kluh McCluh


"Ayah, I'm Kluh, an' I'm inna company of yer dear friend, so no water in the booze, thankee kindly," Kluh grumbles impatiently. "So let's get on with it, yeah? I suppose the dear friends of your dear friends might expect a drink onna house, innat right?"


Harafass Whistiggle

"But of course," replies Harafass to Kluh, managing to grimace only slightly, "of course dear friends of dear friends get a drink on the house. Special ones, come to that! There are some prime casks set aside for my very important clients, which Mister Zivelda has insisted I break open."

He gestures to the open doors of the barrel restaurant. "If you'll follow me...?"

Moony

Moony glares at Kluh as he insists that he be treated like a king. How impressively cool this Harafass is. He barely flinched at this small time hood. He motions for Kluh to go first and walks behind him, being sure to watch for any sudden moves from him.

Harafass Whistiggle

"Yes, let's not dawdle," nods Harafass, ushering you inside. "After all, it's five bells somewhere, isn't it?"

The halfling leads you into the barrel-like Grindhouse, where a cacophany of sound greets you as you enter through the swinging front double doors of the establishment. You find yourselves in a big, bustling dining room that's absolutely swarming with dwarves- some dining, some politely sipping tea and others pounding down ale and shots, others darting back and forth between the tables carrying trays laden with sizzling meat and frothing mugs of spirits.

The room boils with conversation and oaths, drowning any chance of speaking with Harafass, much less hearing yourself think.

Making his way purposefully through the ruckus, Harafass guides you across the restaurant melee and up a winding, creaking staircase at the back of the room. You feel it curving as you ascend, and realize that you're making your way up toward the top of the Grindhouse.

After a short climb, Harafass comes to a solid oak door with a copper number "3" stamped into its center. Producing a set of jingling keyring, the halfling selects a large, brass key turning green with age, then inserts it into the door's luck and turns it sharply.


Harafass Whistiggle

"Private room number three, gentlemen, here we are."

Harafass pushes open the door to reveal a warm, inviting with an oaken table and several highback chairs. Dwarven tapestries and the heads of various wild game adorn the walls, and you see that a fire has been lit in the small alcove hearth over in the corner. Sunlight filters into the cozy quarters through a window on the north side of the room, though you note that there seems to be a sturdy-looking lattice of iron bars across the outside of the pane.


Harafass Whistiggle

"Well, then, gentlemen, I'll leave you to your cups and business," says Harafass, bowing with a flourish. "I'll return with your drinks in just a moment."

With that, the halfling turns and scampers back down the stairs, leaving the rest of you alone.

Antonin Zivelda

"Well," says Antonin, closing the door quietly behind him. "Now... we are finally alone." You hear a quiet click as he gives the knob a slight twist before he turns back around to face Kluh.

"Why don't you have a seat, Mister Kluh? I'm sure you're quite tired."

You notice that a slight edge has crept into the old man's voice. He doesn't sound nearly as friendly as he did a moment ago... and his face, like that of a wolf watching its unsuspecting prey, confirms the sentiment.



Jarl Spitesnarl

"This has been entirely too much effort for a couple of
thieves
cam'wethrin,"
Jarl said, the final word seemingly oddly flowing coming from his fanged muzzle. "Now do you think we should start slow or just jump right in?"

The gnoll glanced between the other two, an unpleasant smirk on his face. He had known this Kluh fellow for less than an hour and he already wasn't exactly fond of him.

Antonin Zivelda

"I agree," replies Antonin, nodding his head knowingly as he sweeps off his wide-brimmed black felt hat and sets it aside. "Now that there's no more need for deception, I can do away with this ridiculous accent."

The old man lets out a heaving, wracking cough, whose sound bears remarkable similarity to the thrashing of a drowning cat. When he's finally recovered, Antonin looks at Jarl with disdain. "Va-kashna," he says with considerable disgust. "Wretched foreign tongue. It is like being to gargle rocks, talking in that tone."

Moony

Moony lets an evil smile creep onto his lips as he moves over to Kluh and first invites him to sit in the chair. He waits to see if he complies before takes any further action.




 

Powered by vBulletin® Version 3.8.1
Copyright ©2000 - 2014, Jelsoft Enterprises Ltd.
Blog   Myth-Weavers Status