**Watching Tiger as he twirls to the sounds of music. his worn red Thong stretching at the seams threatening to burst any moment. He Turns toward Tiger, Slo and Navic**
"One of you lads fetch me a Ale will ya, cant ya sees me working my tail off *turns to show a rather solid derierre* in here. getting so a Dwarf in a Red thong cant earn a living anymore"
*Starts dancing closer to Cyren* "Thats right gal get with it. Just dont get in my way while I am cuttin a rug " and proceeds to dance around the Tavern doing his best Swan lake without the tutu.
<chants and thrust his hips to the beat> "Table Dance for an ale. Table Dance fer ales" eyeing Liliy as he passes. "I got some hip for a Tip"Thrusting sideways. **Tiny fingers rake across a hairy mishapened chest as he twirls on mangled toes**
Cyren takes a deep drink and grins. "Well, really, I can't compete with that. It's dwarven stamina. I'm just an elf. I'm willowy and stuff. I just can't shake it without breaking it, I guess. Gotta hand it to him, that takes stamina." She salutes Tater with her mug and then takes another sip, almost spitting it out as a light comes to her eyes.
She starts to clap her hands at Tater and starts to sound rowdy and drunken. "Oh YEAH baby, you know how mama likes it...mama wants to...to...uh..." she hisses in an aside to the guys "How do you guys do this..." she turns back and shouts "Mama wants to...wax your codpiece!" She starts to laugh harder and shouts "Strut it daddy! Oh yeah, oh yeah!" She hisses in another aside "You guys do this for FUN?" and shouts back at Tater "Gimme some of that hot...dwarven...mining pick..." and she collapses back to the table.
"If he comes over here, someone else is paying. I'm basically weak. I talk the talk, but I just can't walk the walk. I'm shy."
::goin' ta a quiet place in her mind, ignorin' the shrieks, moans, pitter patter a runnin' feet, stompin' an' thumpin' of dancin' feet, the death cry of a moose bein' skinned alive. The moose forms words....
..."Shake your love thing.. yea yea yes" ...
::lookin' up from countin' the copper coins in her drawstring bag, the results of miles of walkin', talkin', and petal pushin', a sight the likes of which she'd never dreamed ta see appeared before her slowly focusin' eyes::
:assin' within a hair's breadth of a suddenly out thrust hip, the dancin' dwarf is left behind as the troll axe leaning in the consumes her attention::
Barely a scratch on it! Not used fer combat, I see.
::turnin' back in time ta see the agile dwarf pull his long beard 'tween his stumpy thighs, grabbin' the end of it behind him with one hand, while liftin' a flat foot over the beard in a kind a dwarf jump rope, and back out again, switchin' feet, never lettin' the hand behind him release the tension on his hairy rope.::
::countin' out coppers, just recently earned, the dancin' dwarf is approached, eyes followin' beads a sweat down a barrel chest, inta a skimpy red thong::
Here ya go little fella, (averts her eyes from the thong) errr... no offense intended! All I got are these here coppers, how's about I stick em to yer chest, since it appears yer thong is full. sorta.
:ressing a handful a coppers into the dwarf's sweaty body just as he double dutches his beard and adds a spin, she finds herself clutchin' a clenched dwarf cheek.::
<Quietly slips through the door and finds a seat against the back wall. Not that an army couldn't march through the door and not distract anyone. Takes one look at Lil and smiles. Does a double-take on the dwarf and proceeds to puke in his hat.> Damn... that's scarier then En-Li-Kil! Good thing I'm a wizard and can clean this mess up quickly. BARKEEP!!! a LARGE glass of milk please.
A man with a jeweled cross on a fine gold chain enters the tavern and surveys the inhabitants.
With a look of outraged concern he sweeps over to Cyren and takes off his cape. He sits and lifts her head so it rests on his knee. He covers her with the cape and arranges its folds carefully. The cross hangs suspended, like a pendulum as he whispers something in her ear, a soft murmur.
He looks up at the tavern inhabitants with scorn.
"How dare you. How dare you ignore the suffering of those around you. Have you no shame? There is evil in every corner of this land and you spend your days and nights making a mockery of the ugliness in this world and letting the fallen and weak be stepped over like so much trash."
He meets the eyes of the patrons of the tavern, those that will meet his. "There is an evil coming, there is an evil here. While you laugh and drink and mock, it is corroding your souls until you're unable to even see what lies before you. Unable to reach out and right a wrong. Repentance will come too late if you don't heed its call. It will devour you as surely as the creatures in that volcano will eat your body and spit it out for passersby to defile."
He pauses, a look of torn suffering in his eyes. Then he draws a deep breath and shakes his head. "I am sorry. Forgive me for my pride. I am just as weak as any other man when I am called to a Test. We must stand together against this corruption or we will surely be cast into the fires of the volcano separately, unable to defend ourselves or our friends against our own weaknesses and stupidity. My brothers, my sisters, please. God needs you now. Help me find the way. I am afraid, and I can taste the fear of my fellow travelers until my heart aches."
Cyren's head tilts on his knee and her brows are drawn together in silent nightmare. Priory's hand raises to stroke her hair, his attention drawn back again to ministering to the unfortunate.
Hey Tiger, did Priory just walk thru the tav without noticing the naked dancing dwarf? I mean he just walks in ranting "blah blah blah your drunks bluh bluh bluh" and didn't see the dwarf? Is it possible? He blind? I envy Cyren in her condition... oblivious to that horrific sight...
Closing his eyes, Priory speaks softly and something passes like a prayer from his lips. His expression is beatific and forgiving, enduring and seeking God's grace.
He lifts Cyren into his arms effortlessly. He walks to the door and spares one final glance for the inhabitants, purpose intermingled with shock on his features. Holding his gaze steady on a patron, he whispers one more thing into her ear. Her head turns, straining to hear him in her fog. He smiles at her before he turns and slips through the door. Only the echo of the door slamming behind them remains.
<nudges Tiger and Slo> Ah! He see's the dwarf now... he's checking him out even... Reck'n what he's saying? <takes a long hit of his ale>
8O <sprays both Slo and Tiger with ale> Did he just take Cyren!?
The dusty, road weary barbarian wanders in, her eyes go wide as she spies the beer shower, her pack falls to the floor as she dashes behind the bar and tosses a reasonably clean bar towel each to Slo and Navic. She relaxes against the back of the bar as her hand finds her favorite bottle o' tequila without even looking, she takes a long pull then lets her gaze wander the room. Her eyes slowly focus on the dancing dwarf, she stares, her expression wandering between dumbfounded, intrigued and disbelieving. The onslaught of sensory stimuli coupled with the tequila prove to be too much for her already exhausted system, her eyes roll back in her head as she slumps back and slides to the floor, tequila bottle held protectively in her arms. Oblivious to the tumult around her, she slumbers on, the sounds weaving themselves into her dreams.
Entering the tavern behind the last open and closed door, Trephine surveys the tavern from below cast-down lashes.
Her expression is slack and her eyes blank. She leans against the entry wall for a long moment until she sees a rolled tequila bottle behind the bar. Investigating, she steps forward and leans over Listle to ask her softly if she is all right?
Getting no answer she holds a hand over Listle's mouth to check her breathing, then relieves Listle of everything of nondescript value she can find in her brief survey. Money. Good. She palms one thing that is distinct. No danger of being overheard, but she works quietly anyway for practice. If anyone is casting a glance to this darkened corner of the tavern, the view is blocked by her cloak. She likely looks like a sack of oats to the casual observer. She likes casual observers.
Satisfied, she folds a blanket from Listle's pack and lifts her head, making her look more comfortable. Such a nice, trusting lady. You have to do all you can when people are in a tight spot. After standing and moving a little distance, she reverses a fold in her hood from a dun gray to showing a band of scarlet. She'd like to be seen now. With any luck, and she's usually lucky, people tend to see what she wants them to see.
She skirts the wall, walking behind others whenever possible to not appear to be moving in a straight line to anywhere. She smiles at a handsome waiter she'd seen pass behind the bar at least once in the last few minutes and presses gold into his hand with a grateful smile, holding his eyes in hers and gushing slightly with inept gratitude. Her other hand slips into his apron and lifts what she finds there, more than she just gave, but not everything there. She also drops into his apron one thing identifiable as Listle's in case she needs a scapegoat. She thanks him earnestly and points to a corner for him to find her. She steps to the table and makes a few adjustments to her garments, moving the table to her liking fastidiously. It looks like she's surveying the silverware for its cleanliness. Taking her time, she casually blows out the candle gracing her chosen table without appearing to do so and sits with her back to a solid wall, nowhere near a window.
Ya know, Navic.... I fear for Cyren... Me, being a Paladin and a warrior of honor, would never carry another woman outta a tavern while she was unconsciousness... Uhm... Well, against her will anyway... <arches a brow at Navic> Times have changed since I last traveled with Clerics.... <Shivers> Gods, I'm glad I don't need them to lay hands on myself... Would hate to know where their hands have been.... :roll:
**After a long night of dance and debauchery folks who would be in the Tavern this morning see a short non descript Dwarf come walking down the stairs in his ....!! **
"CUT!!!" "Can we do this again , say tater running back up stairs,"Forgot my Thong.. sorr"
**After a long night of dance and debauchery folks who would be in the Tavern this morning see a short non descript Dwarf come walking down the stairs in his worn red Thong which threaten certain structural failure at any moment due to its old age. An axe thrown across his shoulder his bare chest as nearly wide as he is tall he scoots up to the bar and stands atip his toes in order to look over.**
"Hey you back there, co' mer sos i can see ya...." momentary pause. "Hows bout you make me a mug of goat milk and a hot bowl of something to eat and put it on my tab. I'll be dancin lil bit later and can pay it off. That be good wit you?" Tater says as he heads to his table.
**Eyeing folks laying out on the floor as he passes them he mumbles somethin and moves to his table**
"Guess I wont be doin the full monty anymore if it knocks em out all night long" Taters smiles and says to the folks on the floor, "Kinda takes yer breath away does it heheh" breaks out into a belly laugh**folks shield their eyes as the thong works its last thread trying to remain intact.**
"I think I gonna set up shop here dang i get so much attention and all. who owns this joint? I need to rent a room by the month." Tater speaks as he stares across the the quiet morning tavern crowd.....
**Tavern Folk are astonighed to see Tater coming down the stairs this day not in normal Attire but plated from head to toe in what would seem to be the finest Plate Armor known of these parts. Whispers and ooos and ahha and the words "Infinite Armor" are heard through out the Tavern**
"Well lets get going folks caantt ya sees one we one of our own been takin by that dastardly scoundrel" He adds, "Dont Look at me like the village idiot. Dancin's just a part time gig "
" I want to see any available Warriors, Clerics and Spell Casters here front and center right now.. Oh yea we need a Tracker as well if we are to follow. All of you weakhearted souls get off yer arse and pass the word to every Tavern abut ,, That we are seeking The return of our fair Cyren and the Head of Dastard dat tuuk 'er from us"
<He heads to the Corner to fetch his Battle Axe which folks now come to realize is a Barb Axe>
"need someone to help me force this Axe. any volunteers? ...................