Having a drink, mee...

Having a drink, meeting people  


Rosie O'Der
New Member
Joined: 2 years ago
Posts: 1
07/02/2017 5:04 PM  

Rosie looks around the nearly empty pub. She nods hello at the one or two people she recognizes then sits at a table with her drink waiting to see who else arrives.

Member Admin
Joined: 6 years ago
Posts: 2
07/04/2017 4:21 PM  

A fairly plain looking man sits at a stool to Bethany's right. 


"Glad to see you made it through the troubles on the island," Gil stated.

Jeremy Sarver
New Member
Joined: 3 years ago
Posts: 1
07/05/2017 1:15 AM  

The man stood outside the tavern, his hood pulled low over his brow. He hid his face as much as possible and sighed as his left hand shakily scratched at the slightly grayed goatee.

He looked around and seemed to had changed his mind about going into the tavern and started to turn away. He stopped, the hood shaking as he silently told the world, "No."

He turned back to the tavern and slowly made his way to the door. His staff, made of mundane pine, softly tapped on the flooring as he made his way through the door, the shaky left hand seemed withered to him as he let the door shut behind him.

He glanced around and started toward the corner, as if he would meld into the wall if it would get him further away from people. The soft tap from his staff helped him. The sound allowed him to focus on walking so he wouldn't fall. Even still, his gait seemed to dictate how his left leg seemed to be three inches shorter than the right, his back seemed to twist toward the left as well.

He slowly made his way to a stool, using his staff to move it further into the corner. His breath wheezed from his body and he even had to force that at this point. He was strained, this was a poor idea. He whispered, barely audible, to an unseen person in the corner, "Damn you. Damn you for making me come. I am not ready." The words seemed to strain the man even more and even he, perhaps, would not be able to tell you if he sat or fell onto the stool.

He breathed raggedly, though any in the tavern would no he was trying to control his breathing through sheer willpower. He sat, facing the corner, his head leaning into the spiderwebs of the corner. He didn't seem to care...

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