Trog's Tavern CLVI

[Rebonack]

Ah, the heavenly sound of celestial snorting.

Getting Zee laughing really hard typically has a similar effect.

"Got plenty of cake left! Moist, warm, oozy, fudgy chocolate cake."

Oh no that sounds good.

"But while you're sharing bites let me get you some actual breakfast rolling. Should probably get something for Kara and Navvy, too."

She glances up at the ceiling pensively. The wyrmling duo has been uncharacteristically silent and she's starting to wonder if they're getting into something. Not that they would ever intentionally cause trouble, but children are children regardless of how many legs they've got.

"What are you hungry for aside from cake? A scramble? Maybe a breakfast burrito? French panwaffles?"

All excellent options.

[5a Violista]

"I told you you needed money, you dummy!" the pixie Jolene tells Nina.

The first pixie, Nina, pulls out a (pixie-sized) handful of mustard seeds and slaps them on the table. Mustard seeds are notable for being incredibly small. "Ha! Already ahead of you!" She looks up at Zefir. "How many of these babies do you think would it cost to buy a drink?"
Honestly, going off of market value...probably hundreds, for a pixie-sized drink.

The second pixie holds back a giggle and kicks the air behind her as she waits to see how Zefir responds to Nina's stupid declaration that she has money.


Deciding she should answer his question, Jolene stands up, and looks around furtively, and gestures for Zefir to lean closer. Pretending like she's whispering, she answers, "We're playing hide-and-seek. Trying to not get found."

[bc56]

"I'll, uh, take a bite of that." Sele forks a chunk of cake and eats it. "Mum! You need to teach me to bake!" comes her smiling reply. "Uh, the panwaffles sound good with some, uh, bamhacon on the side." She turns to her new acquaintance who shared her cake. "Uh, hi, I'm Sele." It's short for Selekhael but nobody's asking (although some of the regulars know that, because she only recently started going by it).

[Trog]

Oh hey!

Trog has emerged from the owner's office!

Zee pipes up from behind the counter, "Hey Trog did you want me to take care of the bills for you? Some pig lady was in here the other day paying with diamond wafers and I think we can..."

She watches Trog pick up the bill stack and amble outside with it.

She listens to the sound of the dumpster mimic chowing down on the diverse selection of THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING letters.

She gives a small sigh as Trog shuffles back in.

"Did you at least want me to renew the Big Tailz magazine subscription for you?" the beleaguered barmaid inquires as Trog heads back to the office again.

Will he reply to the employee's question?

Or will he vanish into the smokey haze of the office once more, his wishes unknown?

One of the great questions of our time.

*The back room door opens again and Trog sticks his scaly head back out and adjusts his bowler cap on his head with a dry scratchy sound. His cigarette points upward due to his raceÂ’s trademark severe underbite and itÂ’s smoldering tip wobbles as Trog talks to Zee*

Big Tails? *blinks*

Trog had forgotten about that subscription. Someone must be pocketing them when the mail arrives. Contact the proper authorities, …or uh… something. If you happen to spot them. As much as Trog enjoys the ‘Fat Bottom Girls of Cavern College’ special each year, it’s probably best to keep renewing it. Though Trog has noticed that their ‘TILF’ special has become the more appealing of the two as Trog has aged.

…And don’t even get Trog started on the dearth of ‘Step Trog’ features lately. No idea who that appeals to.

*blink blink, puff puff*

*pours himself a Djinn & Tonic, rubs the glassÂ’s side and speaks quietly to the light blue haze that rises from it in response* Taste good.

*sips, smacks lips in a ‘that is tasty’ manner. Sips*

[Ironsmith]

Marianne smiles, glancing down sadly at the bandages around Selkhael's left arm. Oof. It looks a little like she's had a bad accident or something recently. The angel subconsciously strokes her sternum where Ilpholin stabbed her last time she was on the mortal plane, as though seeing the injury caused the wound to start aching again. Finally, she extends her right hand in greeting, a soft, nigh-imperceptible glow radiating from it; Zee will be able to see it as a reflection of her halo, as will Selekhael if she's looking for it. "Nice to meet you, Sele. I'm Marianne."

If Selekhael takes her hand now, the magic therein will set to work immediately. Elysium's angels do not experience bodily suffering in any form, and for as long as they're touching, neither will Selekhael. Her arm will stop hurting for the moment, as will any other aches or pains; she'll feel as fresh as she ever has. And that extends well beyond obvious suffering. If she's hungry, she's going to find said hunger quelled down to a hearty appetite, with little to no urgency to it; she'll feel like she could eat a horse but won't necessarily need to in order to be satisfied. If she's thirsty, her thirst will be slaked in a similar way. Morning congestion, likewise, will not necessarily be gone, but she'll be able to breathe like it was. Supernatural cravings for blood, life force, information, or anything else of the sort will similarly be put on hold. And so on and so forth.

Marianne will shake a little as she does this, watching Sele and Zee both for signs that she might be out of line. She's never tried this before, and part of her is certain this would constitute a breach of etiquette, but... well, Sele and her mum just seem so sweet and she'd hate to think of what pain Sele must be in.

[Rebonack]

"We could do some baking lessons if you like, Sele. It can be a lot of fun. Mostly it's just following instructions precisely with just a pinch of intuition and experimentation to find juuuuuuust the right balance for that perfect outcome," Zee replies as she fetches some pancake flour from under the counter.

The French panwaffles are, in fact, a relatively recent creation by Zee.

Honestly she is kind of baffled that it took her so long to come up with this idea.

Marrying the best aspects of waffles, pancakes, and French toast into a single juggernaut of breakfast deliciousness?

Seems like a really obvious idea in retrospect.

But sometimes you can't really control when those flashes of inspiration arise.

Anywho!

Zee gets to work on the breakfast. Before long the scent of the panwaffles and bamhacon are filling the tavern.

...that results in more than a few additional orders. Zee is going to be busy for a bit!

Meanwhile!

Oh.

Oh wow Trog actually popped back out again. Zee was expecting him to vanish into the office but hey this is a pleasant surprise, right? How often has she gotten a chance to actually chat with him? Probably not since the tavern moved back to the playground from Enup. And that feels like forever ago at this point.

"Right! I'll make sure that subscription is renewed and we'll keep an eye out for any would-be magazine thieves," she says, turning briefly from her arcane breakfast preparations to point at Cosmo. "I'm going to be delegating magazine guardianship over to you. You can handle that, right Cosmo?"

That's definitely a look from the gnome. "I'll take it as seriously as my glass-cleaning duties."

Zee briefly considers the collection of 'clean' glasses on the shelf, all in various states of 'acceptably' cloudy.

Well, that's a start, right?

"I should probably mention that I've more or less taken over the manager position," Zee points out to the troglodyte as he nurses his drink. "Since El Jaspro hasn't been around since... umm..."

The barmaid wrinkles her nose, trying to recall the last time she saw the pirate king doing things. "Approximately one very long time ago."

Sure.

That's accurate enough.

[bc56]

Sele shakes Marianne's hand, and gasps. "You... you did something." She glances at her shoulder. "What did you do?" She doesn't seem angry, just surprised. Her grip tightened when she realized something was going on.

[Ironsmith]

French panwaffles and bamhacon, it turns out, both appeal pretty strongly to Marianne. Before she answers Sele's question, she'll plink down a couple of coins and order some for herself, as well. With some scrambled eggs on the side, of course.

"It's, um... it's a thing I learned how to do in Elysium." Marianne explains, gently rolling her thumb over the back of Sele's hand. "Well, maybe not learned exactly, that would imply that I always could do it, but... well, there is a knowledge component to it, I guess." She gives her a shaky smile. "There's no suffering where I come from, you see. You can't get hurt there like you can here. Can't really get sick or hungry or any of that other junk, either. And when one of us steps out from there to the mo- to here, we take a little bit of that with us. Like a kind of magical doggy bag, I guess." She looks over Sele's arm and shakes her head slightly. "I just noticed you were, um... well, hurt. And I'm down here to help people, so why not, right?"

Technically speaking, she's down here in preparation to help people, really. She doesn't expect to be able to help change the world from the safety of Trog's, and she's going right back to Elysium when she's done here, but the intent still remains.

[Rebonack]

French panwaffles and bamhacon for Sele. The same for Marianne with the addition of eggs!

Unless specified otherwise, Marianne will have 'em scrambled.

Wonderful, fluffy, scrambled eggs.

"Alrighty, here you two go! It sounds like everyone wants a late breakfast now, so I'm going to be keeping a bit busy, haha! Hey Paige order up!" Zee calls out, scooting another plate of food to the server to deliver to a...

What even is that?

Some sort of yeti looking guy? White fur? Blue face? He seems to really like his breakfast, too.

As for the French panwaffles?

They are pretty great! The crispy outer layer of waffles, the fluffy interior of pancakes, and the slightly eggy syrup-absorbing powers of French toast! All the strengths of three with none of the weaknesses. A breakfast treat to surpass all others!

Zee will be listening to the chat between the two gals at the counter but she isn't jumping in just yet.

[bc56]

"Oh, that sounds, uh, nice." No suffering sounds really good. "Uh, so when I let go, it, uh, starts hurting again?" Sele is still holding that hand. "And, uh, I won't hurt myself by straining it?"
She uses her now fine left hand to dig into the panwaffles. "Mmm, that's good. Thanks mum."

Notably, the bandages are clean, there's no blood on them. Really, they're just to protect the injury from getting dirt in it and to protect taverngoers from seeing the unsightly wound.

[Ironsmith]

"Um... well, yeah, kind of." Marianne winces and pokes her fork into her food; unlike Sele, she's not a lefty and the motion is quite awkward for her. "It's not a curative. I'm not doing much more for you than you'd do for yourself by taking a couple aspirin. You're not any healthier than you otherwise would be, just not in pain." She gives her a little smile. "A friend told me our breath has some healing properties, but I'm not entirely sure how serious he was being. And getting close enough to let you breathe it in any significant amount would be... intimate. Way too much so for someone I just met." She giggles and pops a bit of bamhacon in her mouth, quietly amused by the irony of her, of all people, saying something like that.

[bc56]

Sele lets go, finally. "Ow!" She winces at the sudden return of pain to her arm. "Uh, yeah, that sounds a bit too, uh, intimate, yes." She thinks. "Is there, uh, anything else you could do? Uh, take a look at it maybe?"

[Ironsmith]

"Not really." Marianne sighs, switching her fork between her hands. "I'm not exactly a doctor. Or a nurse. Or a healthcare provider of any sort. I've got about this much experience with first aid and it looks like you're well past that point." She holds up her fingers to indicate "just a little" and shrugs. "And, um... honestly, I'd rather not repeat that. Having to patch up my bandmates in a pocket dimension while a building blew up around me was not fun, you know?"

[bc56]

Sele nods. "I guess that's, uh, too much to ask isn't it." The next comment takes her by surprise however, "What happened? I thought you said nobody suffered where you're from?" Clearly that must not be the case if she was surviving explosions and needing to do first aid.

[Ironsmith]

"Well, yeah. This was before I was from there." Marianne explains. "...Actually, hang on. What day is it? I think my internal calendar might be off. It feels like it's been at least three months..." She glances around the wall behind the bar, before her eyes widen when she finally sees it. "...Oh. Wow. It's only been... damn." She grabs her fork and knife and starts cutting up her breakfast, staring at it plaintively. "...Sorry. You're still waiting on an explanation, aren't you?" She gives Selekhael a reluctant smile and shrugs. "All of us Elysians were mortals at some point. When we died, our souls traveled to a place called the Pecatorium, where we were sifted into one of two potential afterlives. Thanks to the interventions of a friend, I ended up in Elysium... the, uh, heaven, to use more common terms. That was a few weeks ago. I got permission to come back to the mortal realm as part of a mentorship program. Today's not anything special; just getting used to the commute and what it's like to interact with mortals as a... well, you know."

[Trog]

*Trog helps himself to a panwaffle and chews a thick rasher of bamhacon at his stool at the end of the bar*

El Jaspero has been gone a long time. Trog’s pretty sure he set sail for the isle of Banjopuddings. Or uh opened a Jasphattan bar on some island beach somewhere out west, probably.

*The aging troglodyte stares off into the distance as he chews, thoughtfully*

The last time Trog was supposed to see him there was a wasp incident and he wasn’t home. He had a nice place, Trog thought. You haven’t lived until you’ve been awakened by the sound of a banjo skillfully played in the next room.

*Trog chews the tasty pan waffle*

In fact it has been a long time since Trog has seen many of Trog’s old friends. It’s… hard now… to come out of the back room… most days.

*chew chew*

These pan thingies are pretty good. And the place is in good shape. You’re doing a great job keeping it all running. Trog’s name may be over the door, but it’s the feet that have worn a groove in the floorboards that have really built this place.

*He lights a Coffin Nail and puffs on it a bit, flicking the ash off the tip and burnishing the end to an even point by twisting it in one of the grooves*

Well, and the Contractor Guild, Trog supposes.

[bc56]

"Uh, for real?" The way Sele says that sounds like she doesn't think it's that unreal at all. She leans in conspiratorially. "I don't know how much to talk about it, but mum and me, we're angels too." What a small multiverse, huh? "We, uh, still suffer though." That's pretty obvious.

[Zefir]

"I told you you needed money, you dummy!" the pixie Jolene tells Nina.

The first pixie, Nina, pulls out a (pixie-sized) handful of mustard seeds and slaps them on the table. Mustard seeds are notable for being incredibly small. "Ha! Already ahead of you!" She looks up at Zefir. "How many of these babies do you think would it cost to buy a drink?"
Honestly, going off of market value...probably hundreds, for a pixie-sized drink.

The second pixie holds back a giggle and kicks the air behind her as she waits to see how Zefir responds to Nina's stupid declaration that she has money.


Deciding she should answer his question, Jolene stands up, and looks around furtively, and gestures for Zefir to lean closer. Pretending like she's whispering, she answers, "We're playing hide-and-seek. Trying to not get found."

"Trog's has been known to take any currency there is, but I doubt this amount will fit." Zefir says. Mustard seed can be bought for a few coins in a hugh amount. Zefir doubts Trogs needs that much but still not just a hand full.

He will lean closer in as she points him to do. "From who do you hide?"

[Rebonack]

"I never met El Jaspro, I don't think. There have been a lot of people who have come and gone over the years. But I guess that's what we get for being some of a crossroads, isn't it? Always people passing through. A liminal space where lives touch, briefly, before parting. But, hehe, I guess some of us just enjoyed hanging out where the roads meet and saying hello to all the passers by," Zee muses, considering all the people who have come and gone through the tavern. All the wackiness that has transpired here since she got dumped into the middle of the room on top of a reclining chair way back in the dim mists of two thousand eight.

"I think I would have liked to hear his music. I think we could have been friends if we had met. Or I like to think that, I guess?"

Zee does tend to be friendly to most anyone who isn't actively trying to stab her in the kidney or set her on fire.

But she has managed to win over even some of the stabby, inflammatory folks over the years, too!

The talk of old friends pulls a contemplative look from Zee, old memories. Moments shared. Faces half-forgotten.

"I know what you mean. It's tough when you forge a relationship with someone and then they're just... gone. Out of time and mind. Just one day snap! and they're gone. You wonder where life has taken them. Whether they're happy with where they are. I hardly see Xeni anymore. Raril is often busy. But they're both still here at least. But others? Furro the monkey, Crow, Westlana, people I spent a lot of time with just... gone."

Her smile intensifies, chasing away the doldrums.

"But! That's why I work here, Trog. That's why I'm here when I could be anywhere. New faces pop up here all the time. New people to meet. A places where lives touch. That's why I've worked so hard to make sure the tavern keeps running. And so it'll be here when dusty travelers pause one day and think to themselves, 'I wonder if Trog's Tavern is still around?' I mean, it would be pretty awkward if you popped out of the back room one day and the tavern was just gone, right? I'll keep the lights on. As long as I can."

Zee's eyes follow the smouldering end of the cigarette, considering the places where the floor's varnish has worn down to naked wood. How many feet have walked through here? How many weirdos have hung out in the rafters? How many dark corners have been lurked in?

"Would you believe me if I told you it's been years since someone blew up the tavern?" Zee asks, a hint of mirth in her tone.

[Ironsmith]

"Uh, for real?" The way Sele says that sounds like she doesn't think it's that unreal at all. She leans in conspiratorially. "I don't know how much to talk about it, but mum and me, we're angels too." What a small multiverse, huh? "We, uh, still suffer though." That's pretty obvious.

"...You are?" Marianne looks up and down Sele incredulously, but quickly breaks out into a smile. "Oh. Duh." She baps her forehead playfully. "You're a different kind than I am, obviously. But that does explain a lot about you." She taps her fingers against the bar, briefly running through an elaborate pattern of sounds as she considers this new information. "Maybe that means you could come visit sometime? I'd be glad to show you around."

[5a Violista]

"So you're saying I need some more," she concludes. The pixie Nina starts picking the mustard seeds she put on the table, and hums a little tune.

The pixie Jolene answers: "Hiding from a monster."
She looks around again, and expounds on her answer. "Eyes lit by flame, face full of cracks. When she calls your name, her claws turn black. Her gaze is empty with nothing between. Yeah, the hungriest eyes I've ever seen."

She looks around again, as if suddenly talking about this monster would make it show up.

Probably coincidentally, outside the tavern someone starts calling someone's name: "Joleeeene? Jolene!"
The pixie jumps and looks spooked.

[Trog]

*The troglodyte proprietor jerks his thumb over his scaly shoulder shoulder back towards the back room*

Well, the other day Trog had a bout of post-Floor Chili indigestion and gas that might count.

*Cosmo wanders by, carrying a tray of drinks for some table* It DEFINITELY counted.

But uh, yeah, most people stopped blowing the place up when the Repair Button was installed.

[bc56]

Sele looks confused. "It does?" She wasn't aware she was that obviously strange. She wants to pass for human, not be obviously different and just unclear how. "I've, uh, never been to where we're from. It's, uh, said to be very strange. And it's, uh, hard to get back."

[Ironsmith]

"Oh, no, that's not what I meant at all." Marianne backpedals, cutting into her panwaffle. "I mean we're, like, different species, if that makes any sense. Like how there's a couple hundred different kinds of goblin in the Nexus, all from different places and sort of running by different rules. You and I, we're obviously not the same kind of angel. But Elysium, the place I'm from, isn't nearly as hard to get to as... er..." She frowns. "Well, I'd presume not, at least. For most of us, it's as easy as falling over." She rolls her eyes at her own morbid joke and continues. "It's even easier if someone's taking you there. Would you want to go?"

[bc56]

"I, uh, think I should stay here for now," Sele replies. The subtext is that she doesn't trust Marianne enough, even if she's an angel. "But, uh, you said that being angels explained a lot about us? What do you mean?"
She continues eating the panwaffles and bamhacon set before her.

[Ironsmith]

Marianne shrugs. Yeah, that's... kind of the answer she was expecting. Especially since Marianne just showed off an ability that could easily be abused for manipulation; it wouldn't be hard to imagine her enthralling a particularly desperate soul by promising them relief in exchange for favors. Marianne would never do that, but she would understand if Sele regarded it with suspicion in addition to the usual stranger danger.

Next time, perhaps.

"Well... honestly, it's more Zee than you, but... sorry, this is going to sound silly." Marianne grimaces. "It's just... you're both so nice, you know? And yeah, sure, in theory there might be ordinary people who just like making everyone else smile, but in my experience, nobody's that generous with their time and energy unless they're coming from a place of total security. We angels have the benefit of being basically immortal and impossible to hurt in any meaningful way; people who haven't died yet or end up in the other place don't really have that. Putting yourself out there comes with the constant risk that someone will notice and... well, you get the idea." She picks apart her bamhacon, twirling it on her fork as she composes her thoughts. "And honestly? A lot of the people here look pretty scary. Even knowing nobody in this bar can hurt me, part of me still wants to bolt for the door and get back to safety. So knowing your mum deals with these people every day without flinching? Yeah, as much as I'd like to have that much faith in humanity, the cynic in me says there's got to be more going on there, you know?"

[Zefir]

"So you're saying I need some more," she concludes. The pixie Nina starts picking the mustard seeds she put on the table, and hums a little tune.

The pixie Jolene answers: "Hiding from a monster."
She looks around again, and expounds on her answer. "Eyes lit by flame, face full of cracks. When she calls your name, her claws turn black. Her gaze is empty with nothing between. Yeah, the hungriest eyes I've ever seen."

She looks around again, as if suddenly talking about this monster would make it show up.

Probably coincidentally, outside the tavern someone starts calling someone's name: "Joleeeene? Jolene!"
The pixie jumps and looks spooked.

Zefir is not sure what Nina is going to do, but she may have a reason.

When Jolen speaks about the terror he makes no face. Can t trust a pixie, not only because of her reputation more because she is smaller and they see things a little different. When the name is called he looks up at the direction it came from an instinct he can t surpress. He turn back after that.

"Can t say you piced the best place to hide. Trogs is at every seventh door in the city and fights happen here on a regular basis. But why does this 'monster' hunt you. Have you done anything to it?"

[bc56]

"We uh, don't have perfect security though." Sele meaningfully indicates her arm, "And, uh, as for the other thing. They're, uh, really nice once you get to know them. And, uh, I'm scarier than anyone here and mum's scarier than all of them and me put together. But, uh, that doesn't matter because we don't hurt anyone." It sounds like Sele's trying to reassure herself about that.

[Ironsmith]

"That's kind of my point." Marianne replies, polishing off her panwaffle. "If someone came in here and tried to make trouble... a psychic centipede, say... you and your mum wouldn't have any trouble dealing with them. That's not true for an ordinary human. I don't think she'd be able to look an ogre in the eye and tell him to settle down if she didn't have something up her sleeve in case he decides not to cooperate." She gives Sele a little smile. "But she does, and because she does, she doesn't have to worry, so she can smile instead. You get me?"

[bc56]

Sele shakes her head. "There are some things even we can't deal with. If the tavern wasn't, uh, neutral ground, we might not be able to stay here." There's an implication there. Her wound was not an accident.