Trog's Tavern CLIII

[bc56]

A man clambers down into the bar.

Yes, clambers.

Through a window.

He's got scruffy blond hair and is wearing a red overcoat with brass fastenings, brown trousers, and sturdy work boots, all coated in a layer of mud and dust. His belt has many pockets and loops with unusual devices, along with chisels, brushes, and hammers, in them. He looks around in surprise. "A bar?" He looks back at the window. It's gone. He shrugs. "Not a bad place to be, I suppose."

[Artemis97]

Raril looks up from his book, at his seat by the fire, and raises an eyebrow at the man in the red coat.

"Uh, can we help you?" The drow looks over his shoulder at his wife. "Zee, another customer just... climbed through the wall?"

[Rebonack]

Zee glances up from her second bowl of batter.

"Huh..." she mutters. "I guess he did?"

Weird.

Probably not the weirdest, though.

"Howdy! Welcome to Trog's Tavern. Can I get you anything today?" Zee asks.

Because...

Really.

If you're going to climb through the wall of a bar then the least you can do is order something.

[bc56]

"I suppose. A shot of absinthe please, and tell me where I am." The man stays near the wall, examining it closely where the window was. He pulls a fine brush out of his belt and brushes the spot off several times. "No seams, no hidden latch. Strange."

[Rebonack]

"Sure thing!" Zee fires back with a cheerful smile.

Then she begins rummaging through her bar-tending essentials. Absinthe is kind of an unusual one. It has to be prepared just so. Obviously you need the absinthe spoon and the absinthe glass. Not to mention the greenish floral wine itself. And a little shot glass full of cold water. And laaaaaast of all!

"Did you want the aboleth absinthe or the normal sort without the hypercube of sugar?" Zee asks, holding up a sugar dish full of completely normal sugar cubes in one hand along with a second sugar dish covered in spooky, swirling designs. The cubes inside of it... wriggle, changing shape depending on the direction they're observed from. It's kind of unsettling.

"What's weird about walls not having hidden seams or latches?" Zee asks inquisitively. "Walls normally don't have those things."

It's true!

Walls usually have...

Well.

Walls. And that's about it. That's why they're walls and not trap doors.

[bc56]

"Normal please." Although the hypercubes are fascinating. The man walks over to the bar and impetuously tries to grab one from its bowl to examine. "Normally windows don't disappear like that. I presume that I've been sent somewhere. Where are we?"

[Rebonack]

"Sure thing!" Zee replies brightly as she sets the two bowls down and gets everything ready. The spoon with the sugar cub, the shot glass of ice-cold water, and the absinthe class with the lower portion full of green fluid. These she scoots across the bar to the newcomer!

Right as he grabs one of the sugar hyper-cubes.

Hanging onto it is kind of hard.

Mostly because its shape keeps changing.

It is SUPER weird.

Of course, its shape isn't actually changing.

It's just rotating and its three dimensional cross section is a bit different as time passes.

Still super weird, though.

"Disappearing windows and doors happen in haunted houses pretty often," Zee comments thoughtfully. "But the tavern isn't haunted. I hope. Ghosts are a pain to get rid of. This is Trog's Tavern! One of the most common points of entry for newcomers. Newcomers to the Nexus, I mean. You're now standing in the crossroads between all possible (and occasionally impossible) worlds."

[bc56]

"Do you get ghosts often here?" The man jokes. He doesn't believe in ghosts. Every "ghost" he's encountered has had a perfectly reasonable explanation. "It's haunted" seems to be a code word for "there's something mysterious there, but we don't want to risk our lives to find out what it is." He sips his drink and thinks. "All possible worlds? I'll believe it when I see it." He takes a moment to look around the tavern.

[Rebonack]

"Not that often, actually," Zee replies, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. "Mostly just that guy."

She points over at the headless man in black leather riding gear sitting at a nearby table, vaguely translucent and glowing with phantasmal light. Coiled at his hip is a whip made from a vertebra, flames crackling along the bones. The headless rider has a fire-filled jack-o-lantern sitting on the table next to him and a mug of ale in one hand. He pours down the beer down his neck-hole before waving at newcomer.

"Actually I'm not sure if he counts as a faerie or a ghost. There's a lot of overlap between those things, traditionally," Zee adds, seriously contemplating the question now. "Hey, Dullahan? Are you a ghost or a faerie?"

The rider taps a finger a few times atop his pumpkin head as the carved face shifts to a more puzzled expression. After a few seconds he shrugs.

"Neh, he doesn't know either? I guess that's fine. Spooks are still spooks, one way or the other," Zee concludes. "Seeing all possible worlds would be pretty hard to do, since 'all possible worlds' covers a pretty wide set of worlds. Including somewhere matter can't exist! That would make it pretty hard to see. Not existing makes it notoriously difficult to see things."

Very true.

Most of the tavern patrons are humans (or at least demihumans) of a more adventurer-y bent. One can tell from their eclectic outfits cobbled together from magical (or technological) loot pilfered during their escapades. There are a few odder patrons, though. Such as that amorphous mass of woolly fur that keeps budding off rat-sized mammoths. Or that extremely colorful salamander (the lizard/dragon person, not the amphibian or the elemental) trying to woo a clearly uninterested elf.

[Artemis97]

Raril is sitting near the fire in a comfy chair with a glass of brandy and a book on otherworldly things. He's a dark elf, or drow, with blue-black skin, pointed ears, and silvery white hair. He's dressed for adventure, despite his relaxed state, armed with a variety of medieval style weapons, from a rapier to short swords, a number of knives and daggers, and a heavy crossbow. His coat appears to be made from a lion's pelt, with a great fur collar. Another collar, this one the jeweled sort, sits tight around his throat, the bauble at its front depicting the spider-on-web design of House Xar'Cha in sapphire and gold. He's also wearing a knit cap made to look like a white wolf, with red button eyes.

He flips the pages in his book, to the section on fighting magics, and keeps reading.

[bc56]

"I don't believe in ghosts. Or fairies. There's a perfectly scientific explanation for every strange phenomenon." Of everything in the tavern, the only thing that gets any special reaction out of the man is the mammofacturer, to which he shows bemused surprise. "But are those really worlds, in any case? If we can't detect them at all, does it matter whether they exist?"

[5a Violista]

Harley Zorzo enters the tavern.

No masks or make-up hiding the scars that cover half her face, no elf-ears or flowers to make her look friendlier, no unassuming styles or shortness and softness to make her blend into the crowd, no air of professionalism and politics around her, or any of the other various disguises and personas she's been using recently. It's just her, her black braided hair, a jacket and blouse and skirt (with pockets!) that goes well with her dark skin tone, confidence, and a scabbard-and-sword. Well, that, and a romance novel but that's just because it recently came out and she hasn't been back to Riverside recently to put it in her house.

For once, she actually looks kind-of like an adventurer rather than the many other things she's been.

Of course, she's secretly embarrassed and nervous that she's going out without anything to cover up her face but she's pretty good at hiding that feeling. Most people wouldn't be able to notice. Most people have no idea who she is, anyway, so there's nothing to worry about.

She orders a special of the day - praying that it's not fish again - and, quite boringly, picks up from where she left off in her book. It would have been much more exciting if she had talked with somebody again.

[Deathkeeper]

A young man enters the bar. Tanned skin with short black hair, he's dressed in long, casual clothes of fine make, with a heavy book strapped to his side. He looks around nervously and tries to get a table where he can put his back to the wall. He's just here for a quick meal, nothing crazy.

[Rebonack]

Raril's book goes into a number of practical tips here, primarily on dealing with deranged cultists. The adage among Watchers appears to be 'the best defense against magic is killing the mage before they cast anything'. That's a technique Raril is probably familiar with. It goes on to discuss various types of magical practice and ways to foul them.

Warlocks (and witches) are most common. They've struck a bargain with otherworldly powers and can command an array of different magical forces depending on those bargains, but their actual well of borrowed power is typically shallow. Disrupting their more powerful spells is paramount, since once those have been exhausted they will be forced to rely on mundane means to cause harm. Typically a warlock will focus their well of power on lengthy rituals that are concluded with spectacular effect. However, these rituals are delicate. A well placed pouch of iron filings or a sack full of dead Nothing tossed into a ritual is sure to cause it to fail catastrophically.

Sorcerers and thaumaturges are comparatively rare, people with a direct connection to the Dreamheart and the Empyrean, respectively. Since they tap directly into this otherworldly sources through a particular conduit their well of power is nearly inexhaustible. However, because they access through a conduit the range of magics they can reliably produce is quite narrow. Where a warlock dedicated to a potent empyrean will typically be able to access magic from all four of that empyrean's spheres, a thaumaturge is only able to access the magic of a single sphere. The conduit likewise becomes strained with use. A sorcerer's first few spells might be quite powerful, but shortly they would be limited to relatively weak effects until the conduit has time to mend. Their spells are typically much more direct than the average warlock's, so it is best to approach them with caution or to engage only once they have already cast several spells.

Wizards are quite unlike their brethren. They make no pacts and have no spark of their own. Instead, they craft talismans to contain and utilize eldritch or arcane power. Typically a talisman can only be used to cast a single type of spell, however there's nothing stopping a wizard from creating many different talismans; it is merely a matter of time and securing the rare reagents required. Wizards thrive on being able to prepare and picking their battles carefully. Suddenness and surprise are their greatest enemies.

And now?

Non-book subjects!

Zee quirks her head to the side at the man's declaration.

Scientific and rational explanations for everything?

That's the kind of talk that causes the gods to throw rocks through your windows. It also causes the headless rider to make a rude gesture at the man. It looks like he doesn't believe in you either, guy.

"I guess that sorta depends on what you mean by scientific and rational?" Zee replies uncertainly. "If you mean the scientific method then probably. It's a really nice, rigorous application of inductive reasoning. If you're including methodological naturalism as an axiom then... umm... probably not. There are quite a few things that fall pretty squarely into the 'super-natural' realm."

Like that ghost and/or faerie who is sitting right over there.

At that second question Zee nods vigorously!

"Oh definitely! The vast majority of randomly generated universes are utterly hostile to the existence of life. Maybe because only hydrogen can form. Or maybe because stars can't form. Or maybe because stars can't get big enough to explode into metals. Or maybe because beetloaf is the only thing which can exist. Or lots of other reasons! Universes where life can exist are rare beyond reckoning, which makes them indescribably special," Zee replies cheerfully. "I should know! I've gotten to observe some of those dead-end universes and let me tell you they're boring as heck."

So boring.

Just the dullest.

"That's why it's good that so many universes aren't randomly generated! From the start they're woven with Information to give them meaning and purpose. But that's pretty supernatural by definition, I guess? Anything reaching in from outside the universe would be," Zee reasons.

Meanwhile!

"Don't worry, the special of the day isn't fish," Zee calls over to Harley shortly before she orders the special of the day. "It's holiday ham with cranberry sauce! I've got mashed potatoes, baked potatoes, scalloped potatoes, green bean casserole, and rice pilaf for sides. Do you have a preference, Harley?"

It's Trog's!

Where everyone knows your name!

Or at least Zee does, provided it is mentioned in your post.

Also Meanwhile!

The young man with the book is immediately met by something crazy.

"Howdy! Welcome to Trog's Tavern!" says the completely normal human barmaid who just walked around the counter to talk with him, notepad in hand. "Is there anything I can get for you today?"

She most certainly IS NOT over there talking with that person. Or that other person. Or baking brownies behind the counter. All of those things have either already happened or haven't happened yet.

Clearly.

Being in more than one place at a time would be impossible.

[bc56]

"Anything which claims to be supernatural is just of a nature we can't explain yet. I've been studying Relics, and I'm working on a unified theory to explain them." The way he says "Relics" makes it clear that it's a proper noun. "It will be the work of a lifetime. Wilhelm Gottfried, at your service."

[Rebonack]

"Nice to meet you!" the Farmaid replies with a cheerful smile. "I'm Zee, the manager slash bartender slash cook slash bouncer here at Trog's Tavern."

A beat.

"I really do need to put up some help wanted posters..." she mutters, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. Followed by a shrug. "Anywho! I'm sure you'll have a great time studying stuff around the Nexus, it's full of all sorts of really fascinating things and people and not-things."

How does one study a not-thing, exactly?

"What do you mean by a Relic? It sounds suspiciously like it's capitalized," Zee asks.

She's very perceptive like that.

"'cuz I'm thinking it's probably something different than what I'm thinking of, which is basically pocket change in The Tower. The sort of stuff putti mug each other over."

Those silly putti.

'The Tower' incidentally, also sounds capitalized.

[5a Violista]

Meanwhile!

Harley had to have said her name at this tavern at some point in the past - probably the last time she got the special, so it leaves her totally impressed that Zee managed to remember her name. Even though there's, like, thousands of NPCs who probably go through this place per week.

Luckily deciding on a side is really simple: "Yes, I'll have the rice pilaf," she says. Rice was the staple grain where she grew up, so...rice is a lot more normal to her than any of the differently-cooked potatoes. Then, she adds a "Thanks."

[Rebonack]

What!?

Green bean casserole doesn't have potatoes in it!

It has green beans! And onions! And cream of mushroom soup! And bamhacon!

It's one of Karaglen's favorites. Probably just because Zee's recipe has high bamhacon content but that's beside the point.

"Sure thing, I'll have it for you in just a moment," Zee says as she begins gathering the food in question.

The ham is already cured of course.

Since it's ham.

So the actual cooking isn't that long of a process.

Before long Harley will be presented with a lovely plate of wonderful smelling food. The ham is the perfect combination of sweet and savory, just the right mix between crumbly and firm. The rice looks pretty nice, too. Nice rice.

There's even a complimentary brownies to go along with it on a little side plate. Written atop the complimentary brownie in frosting are the words: 'No, you're breath-taking!'

"There you go!" Zee says cheerfully once handing off the plate. "I hope you enjoy this more than the last one. Also, you look pretty without the mask!"

Apparently Zee is complimentary, too.

[Deathkeeper]

The young man looks somewhat relieved to be presented with someone normal looking, even if he has his doubts about them being so. He is certainly no one to cast stones in that regard.
"Oh, um, just some beer and whatever the special today is. If it isn't anything too strange." he says, realizing that he doesn't really know what the place serves.

[Rebonack]

Yep.

Completely normal looking.

Zee doesn't even have that uncannily pretty factor that more than a few PC females possess. She's the sort of person who could be lost in a crowed due to her unremarkable appearance. No glowing eyes, no wings, no tail, no horns, no weird ears, no unusual pigmentation at all. Just black hair, tanish skin, and a cheerful disposition. It's almost as if everything about her communicates the concept of normalness.

Clearly that's very suspicious.

No one in the Nexus is allowed to stay normal for long.

Anywho!

She gives the lad an odd look. "Why would the special be weird? It's holiday ham with cranberry sauce! I've got mashed potatoes, baked potatoes, scalloped potatoes, green bean casserole, and rice pilaf for sides. Do you have a preference, Sir?"

[Deathkeeper]

The young man shrugs.
"You never know. Mashed potatoes is fine."
You never know when the special at a restaurant is something weird, like baked Tatooine bugs or soylent green.

[Rebonack]

"Mashed it is!" Zee replies, her tone full of sunshine.

Given that this is ham we're talking about the cooking process isn't that time consuming. There's probably more time spent creating those fresh mashed potatoes! Little bit of salt, little bit of pepper, a nice teeny pitcher of gravy aaaand-

Zee sets the plate before the newcomer!

Along with a mug of amber colored yeasty wheat beer. It goes well with the ham in Zee's opinion.

"Is there anything else I can get you today?" she asks as she slides a little plate onto the table as well.

A free brownie!

Everyone loves the brownies at Trog's.

They're made with love and tender care.

[Deathkeeper]

"No, thank you very much." says the young man, starting to relax at last.
Well, this place turned out to be much more pleasant than he expected. He goes to eat his food in peace.

[bc56]

"I don't know what tower or putty you're talking about," Wilhelm replies. He reaches into a pocket and pulls something out. It's a flat metal disk, about two inches across and very thin, connected to a thin silver chain. He holds it up to the light, and an etching is visible on the surface, shaped like the hands of a clock. It doesn't take a long time looking at it to realize that the carved hands are moving, just like those of a real clock. "But this is a Relic. A commonplace one, anyway. I had the chance to take one apart. There are no mechanisms inside. It's solid metal."

[Meowmai]

The front door opens and a tall figure steps into the tavern. It was by no means a dramatic entrance, but if anyone was to glance over at the newcomer they'd be able to pretty easily tell that she was some kind of warrior. If the meshed weave of advanced-looking armour wasn't an immediate giveaway, the strange wooden axe slung over her back certainly would. The newcomers gaze warily sized up the room and it's occupants, before at last she shrugged and made her way to an unoccupied table.

The warrior - Pania - sat down, frowning for a moment while she rummaged through her items. Out came some tattered scraps of paper, a pencil and a thin PDA. She stared at the PDA, before picking up the papers and pencil and beginning to write in messy, scratchy handwriting:

Day 2. I still do not know this place. The strange slate has finally stopped shaking. Now it gives me an image of an empty bottle. Can a slate be thirsty?

[Rebonack]

Wow it looks like that dude with a book is actually going to be able to have a peaceful lunch! Given how important peace and normalcy is to him Zee will probably scowl pretty hard at any weird that's trying to sneak up on him.

She wants to make sure the patrons of the tavern are happy!

Meanwhile!

"See? That's how we know that we're talking about different things," Zee replies, nodding sagely. And then out comes the disk. With it's hands! It's like a watch!

With...

No moving parts?

Weird.

Zee peers at it curiously.

"Huh, that's pretty nifty. Do you mind if I try some destructive analysis on it?" she asks. Hopefully that doesn't mean she's planning on smashing it with a hammer or something.

Also meanwhile!

A new person!

When Pania glances up from her writing she'll find the tavern's barmaid leaning over her table with a wide smile on her face, all sunshine and cheer.

"Howdy! Welcome to Trog's Tavern! Is there anything I can get for you today?" comes the standard greeting. But wait! There's more! "Y'know, I've never seen you before. And if I've never seen you before that means you're probably new! Maybe to the Nexus. Certainly to Trog's! Which is a cause for celebration! Your first drink is on the house!"

Hooray?

Zee is a remarkably unremarkable looking woman. Raven black hair hold in a high pony-tail with a green scrunchy, tannish complexion, and steel blue eyes. She's a bit on the tall side and of an athletic build. Her attire whispers of 'adventurer' with a Trog's Tavern apron draped over it. A pair of holsters at her hips contain a set of tonfa made of dark colored wood, but otherwise she appears unarmed.

[Meowmai]

Pania's gaze lifted and she immediately tensed up upon seeing the unfamiliar face peering so close, and if Zee was observant she might have noticed a faint glow of sea-green light up in the warrior's eyes. It didn't last for more than a second, however, and Zee's bright disposition quickly eased any concern's Pania had allowing her to relax.

""I'm... new, yes." She tilted her head towards the bartender. Strange. She had never seen someone quite so exceedingly normal before. "Nexus? I do not understand. And why is the drink on a house? And what house?" Figures of speech outside of her native language tended to elude her.

Was her arrival a cause for celebration? Probably. Where she was now was much more pleasant than where she had been just a few days ago. Less needles. Less screams. More strangers though. And how she had gotten here had been quite unpleasant. But that was not now, so yes, perhaps it was a cause for celebration.

[Rebonack]

"On a..." Zee repeats, puzzled, but then recognition flashes across her face. "Oh! You don't get idioms and metaphors! That's okay. On the house means that the 'house', or the business, will pay for something. So your first drink being on the house means we'll pay for it. It's a gift."

There!

See?

Perfectly understandable.

"We try to be really welcoming to newcomers here at Trog's tavern. Often times people arrive tired or hurt or confused, so we want to put our best foot forward!"

A beat.

"Hmm... how to explain that one. Putting your best foot forward is another idiom. It means doing everything you can to make a good first impression on someone. In this case you!"

Hopefully the newcomer gets homonyms.

"So I'm Zee. I'm the bartender slash cook slash baker slash bouncer here at Trog's Tavern. If there anything you need or any questions you have just let me know, okay?"

[Deathkeeper]

Melvin Dobbers manages to eat his meal in peace, sitting back and flipping through his book. Zee might notice that half of it is in hieroglyphics.
"Um...you don't have to spend your whole night standing guard on me, Miss." he says somewhat embarrassed as he notices Zee standing there scowling at things.

[Rebonack]

Melvin gets a sheepish smile in response.

"Ah, hehe, sorry about that," she says, rubbing at the back of her neck. "You just seemed so intent on not being interrupted or started or having something weird thrown in your lap that I wanted to make sure, well, that nothing weird got thrown in your lap."

"Mam!" grunts a tiny mammoth poking at Melvin's leg with its trunk. Zee casually scoots it away with a broom.

"As you probably noticed, there's quite a bit of weird stuff in the tavern," Zee points out helpfully.

The giant mass of wool sitting on the other side of the room makes a snuffling noise at the implication that budding rat-sized mammoths all over the tavern is at all unusual.

"But it's quite a bit more peaceful than it used to be, that's for sure. Back in the day Trog's was pretty hectic. I think that's why a few of the other places were opened," she muses. "Or... some of them might have been opened as a front for the non-existent mafia. The details are fuzzy."

Fuzzy like that tiny mammoth walking across Melvin's table.

Zee frowns at the petite pachyderm, picks it up, and sets it down on the floor. She gives it a little too handed nudge away. Shoo!

What are you working on?" Zee asks curiously.