[Cherrywood]: The Mounted Steed -- First Floor
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Extreme =&gt; Extreme Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: Flaming Dead Man on 11-01-2013, 07:17:59</h2>
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				Title: <strong>[Cherrywood]: The Mounted Steed -- First Floor</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Flaming Dead Man</strong> on <strong>11-01-2013, 07:17:59</strong>
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				<div align="center"><span style="font-size: 24pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>CHERRYWOOD</strong></span><br><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size">THE MOUNTED STEED</span><br><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size">FIRST FLOOR</span><br>OOC and Nav. Thread (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=162522.0)<br>Cherrywood Grounds (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=162524.0) (general outdoors)<br>The Mounted Steed -- First Floor (inn, pub)<br>The Mounted Steed -- Second Floor (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=163320.0) (inn, rooms)<br>Hwarin Iire (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=162936.0) (brothel)</div><br>This is a Private Game.<br><br>Also the name of their house wine, the Mounted Steed is known most for their drunken festivities, hosted by the owner, Marcus Fitz.&nbsp; It isn't uncommon for parties to result in public sex, here, thus why no minor is allowed into the inn, and also why rumors have spread that Marcus puts aphrodisiacs into every glass.<br><br>The first floor harbors the pub.<br>The second floor contains bedrooms.
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Cherrywood]: The Mounted Steed</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Flaming Dead Man</strong> on <strong>11-01-2013, 08:11:41</strong>
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				<span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size">Jereil Doreit...!</span><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Jereil spent a good two hours in his 'rented' room above the Mounted Steed's bar before coming down for his 'morning' drink.&nbsp; He refused to start his day without a workout, followed by a spongebath; one could never be too clean or fit, he thought, even if his partners often weren't.&nbsp; He'd woken up beside two other men some time before to relieve himself, but when he woke for the day, they'd both left.&nbsp; At least they didn't forget to donate to his well-being, so he'd get to drink and eat for another night.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Dressed in his finest, as always, he descended the staircase and sprawled himself across the lap of one of Marcus' first customers of the night.&nbsp; It didn't matter what he looked like or where he came from, just that the man was willing to let Jereil do as he pleased, which often lead to pleasure, and a monetary reward on Jereil's part.<br><br><hr><hr><div align="center">tagging -- open<br>location -- lower floor; at a random table on a random lap</div>
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Cherrywood]: The Mounted Steed</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Oneiros</strong> on <strong>19-01-2013, 18:57:40</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft"><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Edouard</div><div class="spoiler_body">(http://i318.photobucket.com/albums/mm406/AGirlontheInternet/Eddie2-1.jpg)</div></div></div> Another day, another idiot to be parted from his money. Edouard smirked as the man beside him shuffled the cards, eyes squarely on the man across from him, who sneered as he took a puff from a cigar, ashing it onto the floor. <br><br>"You know they don't allow kids in the bar, right?"<br><br>Ed just scoffed, the comment not bothering him, and not deigning to respond to it otherwise. He heard it a lot, though by now the owners accepted that he was older than he looked. He barely looked sixteen, but he was in his twenties. At times it was annoying, but when gambling, it was a bit of a boon - people tended to underestimate him because of his apparent youth, and that just made it all the more easy to take their money. <br><br>"Scared you're going to lose?" Eddie said with a smirk, before letting out a shrill whistle at a passing server, beginning to roll himself a cigarette as the man dealt out the cards. "Hey you. Bring me an ale."<br><br>Epickings eat the unlit cigarette between his lips before picking up his cards and eyeing them deliberately, furrowing his brow a bit like he was concentrating, arranging and rearranging the cards in his hand. All part of the game. Make them think you have no idea what you're doing, then take them for all they're worth. It was almost too easy at times. He let out a low sigh, like he was dissatisfied with his cards, before flicking a single coin into the middle of the table as the others made their bets as well. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Cherrywood]: The Mounted Steed</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Flaming Dead Man</strong> on <strong>19-01-2013, 19:25:59</strong>
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				<span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size">Jereil Doreit...!</span><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; It didn't take long for Jereil to notice the game, though longer than usual, thanks to the previous night's leftover haze.&nbsp; He watched the group for a while, distracted from the man in whose lap he was seated.&nbsp; Gambling meant winning money, and winning money meant an urge to spend.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Jereil liked when they spent.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; He stood without a word from his first choice, and though the man huffed, he otherwise didn't protest; Jereil was known to the locals for his ever-shifting mind.&nbsp; 'Going with the flow' he called it.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; He stepped around the group briefly, headed to intercept the plump waitress named Lily for the drink one of the gentlemen had ordered.&nbsp; He gave her a wink, intending to deliver it himself.&nbsp; He stepped up from behind, ignoring the cards so he wouldn't give anything away by accident, though distraction wasn't his concern; he set the drink on the table beside the man's hand, his free hand sliding across his chest as he pressed his lips against his neck.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <em>This</em> was Jereil's form of subtle.<br><br><hr><hr><div align="center">tagging -- Edouard<br>location -- lower floor; gambling table</div>
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Cherrywood]: The Mounted Steed</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Oneiros</strong> on <strong>19-01-2013, 20:45:13</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft"><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Edouard</div><div class="spoiler_body">(http://i318.photobucket.com/albums/mm406/AGirlontheInternet/Eddie2-1.jpg)</div></div></div> Ed saw someone come up in the periphery of his vision, figuring it was his drink being delivered he didn't pay them much heed, continuing to contemplate his cards like he was having trouble deciding what to do. He mumbled a 'Thanks, sweetheart' when the glass was placed beside him, reaching to take a drink as he shoved a couple more coins towards the pot as someone else raised. <br><br>The hand suddenly feeling him up and the kiss to his neck was a little surprising however, and he almost spilled his drink as he lifted it his lips, laughing a little. "Hey, hey. I'm working here," he said with a chuckle, taking a swig from his ale, but he didn't seem too upset, his head was still in the game. If they thought he was too distracted to concentrate, he could probably bluff them even better. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Cherrywood]: The Mounted Steed</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Flaming Dead Man</strong> on <strong>19-01-2013, 21:34:47</strong>
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				<span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size">Jereil Doreit...!</span><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Jereil chuckled lightly against the man's skin, his other arm coming to hook beneath his arm to cross over his chest beside the other.&nbsp; He'd never met him -- he'd remember his scent, he was certain -- but the comfort the man seemed to have at the in suggested Jereil was simply always... too preoccupied to notice him.&nbsp; He used his nose to to gently push clothing aside, allowing him to kiss across his shoulder.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; If he played his cards right, he could coax the man up to his room; if he was lucky enough (and the man played <em>his</em> cards right), Jereil'd find a good amount of coin on his nightstand, in the morning.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Unashamed, he began to lightly toy with the folds of his shirt, wanting access to the skin beneath.&nbsp; He kissed up to his ear for a light nip at the lobe.&nbsp; His voice was soft, when he spoke, yet just husky enough to solidify his intent.&nbsp; "There are quite a few men in this room who consider me their lucky charm..."<br><br><hr><hr><div align="center">tagging -- Edouard<br>location -- lower floor; gambling table</div>
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Cherrywood]: The Mounted Steed</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Oneiros</strong> on <strong>19-01-2013, 22:16:27</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft"><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Edouard</div><div class="spoiler_body">(http://i318.photobucket.com/albums/mm406/AGirlontheInternet/Eddie2-1.jpg)</div></div></div> "Are you being lucky for me, or lucky for them?" Edouard responded, with a smirk, lighting his cigarette, casually shrugging his shirt back up after Jereil had pulled it aside. "Maybe you're trying to distract me, or look at my cards." <br><br>Holding his cards close to himself so the other man couldn't look at him, he leaned back a bit to look at him with a faint smirk, taking a drag from his cigarette. "You've got to give me time to win before I can spend money on you," he said with a wink, flicking a bit of ash from his cigarette.<br><br>"Quit flirting and put down your damned cards."<br><br>"Yeah, yeah, keep your pants on," Ed said, putting his cards down on the table, turning up three jacks. "Oh, look at that, I won that hand," he said with a faint grin, reaching to scoop up the pile of coins in the center of the table while the other people in the game groaned a bit. "Maybe you are good luck," he said to Jereil. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Cherrywood]: The Mounted Steed</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Flaming Dead Man</strong> on <strong>20-01-2013, 04:14:26</strong>
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				<span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size">Jereil Doreit...!</span><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Jereil chuckled quietly, always amused with the banter of jealousy, and glad that he picked the right man from the table.&nbsp; He was already growing excited for the prospect of a trip up the stairs.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; "Truthfully, I'm only in it for myself..." he admitted, fingers searching delicately for any point of access, though avoiding the obvious waistline, "...But I'll be your lucky charm for the night..."<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Jereil wasn't against crawling beneath the table to prove his worth as a bed partner, but he didn't want to scare his potential friend off.&nbsp; He was foreward and horny, but sometimes a little patience paid off in big ways.&nbsp; Besides, teasing sometimes lead to more aggressive actions on his target's part, and that was always worth it.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; "...What do you say?&nbsp; Think I'm worth a bit of your time?"&nbsp; There was anticipation in his tone, honest excitement.&nbsp; Certainly, coin helped, but he was in it for the pleasure, not the payment.<br><br><hr><hr><div align="center">tagging -- Edouard<br>location -- lower floor; gambling table</div>
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Cherrywood]: The Mounted Steed</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Saerrael</strong> on <strong>20-01-2013, 04:16:53</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft"><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Myrrdin</div><div class="spoiler_body">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/7/71/SaerraMyrrdinDruid.png)</div></div></div><br>Having wandered for a while -granted, he had wandered down some streets twice- Myrrdin eventually finds the town's inn and strolled inside. The grace and slight bounce was back in his step, though the fire in his veins had yet to come back to bite and gnaw at him. A good thing, as his stomach was questioning the human's intelligence and pointing out the sheer fact that food was something to be eaten, not contemplate about.<br><br>Not shifting an inch, Myrrdins owl just looked dignified when the druid lowered unto a chair at an otherwise empty table. A serving girl was near him within moments and he placed his order. Leaning back a bit, his gaze wandered through the inn, not finding anything to be all too different from other inns he had been in. Then again, he hadn't been in all too many inns, so it was not the easiest task to really compare. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Cherrywood]: The Mounted Steed</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Oneiros</strong> on <strong>20-01-2013, 04:37:14</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft"><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Edouard</div><div class="spoiler_body">(http://i318.photobucket.com/albums/mm406/AGirlontheInternet/Eddie2-1.jpg)</div></div></div> Ed couldn't help chuckling a little at the man's enticing words. It's not that he wasn't tempting - he kind of was, especially the way he was still feeling him up - but Edouard couldn't help feeling like the man probably wouldn't be interested anymore once he got him undressed, considering he didn't exactly have the anatomical equipment he was probably expecting.<br><br>"Sweetheart, I don't think I'm your type," he said, nodding a little to the dealer to indicate he wanted to be dealt in again, taker aching to take another swig from his ale. "Not that I don't appreciate the affection, mind. But you might be better off trying one of these lovely fellows," he said, indicating the other players. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Cherrywood]: The Mounted Steed</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Flaming Dead Man</strong> on <strong>20-01-2013, 05:04:59</strong>
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				<span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size">Jereil Doreit...!</span><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Jereil smirked.&nbsp; He supposed that maybe there <em>was</em> need to prove his worth, somehow.&nbsp; His fingers began to creep downward, toward his groin.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; "Well, you're attractive...&nbsp; That's good enough for me."&nbsp; He was starting to think the man simply wasn't into a good bout of gay sex, but it's not like that had exactly stopped him before.&nbsp; Boundaries were for the sober, after all.&nbsp; Besides, his loins were at a point of great discomfort, cramped behind his trousers rather tightly.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; "I could get you something stronger..?" he proposed, referring to the man's ale.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; If allowed, his hand would move right between Edouard's legs...<br><br><hr><hr><div align="center">tagging -- Edouard<br>location -- lower floor; gambling table</div>
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Cherrywood]: The Mounted Steed</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Oneiros</strong> on <strong>20-01-2013, 05:44:45</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft"><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Edouard</div><div class="spoiler_body">(http://i318.photobucket.com/albums/mm406/AGirlontheInternet/Eddie2-1.jpg)</div></div></div> Edouard took a final swig from his ale, focused again on the game as he picked up his cards, though he did reserve a portion of his attention for Jereil - he wasn't about to ignore someone who was currently feeling all over him, though he didn't get the impression he was trying to steal from him or stab him. Still, he didn't quite notice when he reached for his groin until his hand was already there, making him jump a bit and swat his hand away, though he'd probably already gotten a good feel.<br><br>"Hey! I said I'm working here," Ed said, slapping his cards face down on the table as he tried to pry Jereil's hand away, seeming more embarrassed than one would probably assume. Rather than going back to the game now, though, he merely scooped up his winnings and tucked them away, grabbing Jereil by the wrist. He'd probably better take him aside and have a word with him, if nothing else. "Clearly I can't count on you to knock it off, so c'mon. Let's go upstairs."
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Cherrywood]: The Mounted Steed</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Flaming Dead Man</strong> on <strong>20-01-2013, 06:16:58</strong>
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				<span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size">Jereil Doreit...!</span><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; The lack of a lump in the man's pants made his hand pause where it was, but there wasn't time enough for him to express confusion; he was being pushed away before he could even register what happened.&nbsp; He stood and blinked, dazed, and didn't snap out of it until he was being pulled off.&nbsp; He thought quickly as they approached the stairs, and when the truth occured to him, a slow grin parted his cheeks.&nbsp; He kept silent about <em>that</em> matter, but spoke up about another.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; "...My room's the last..."<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; He was excited, now, for a number of reasons.&nbsp; Not only was there pleasure coming his way, but something he'd never had, before.&nbsp; Women and men of various species were all on his list of experience, but never someone somewhere in the middle.&nbsp; He had so many questions, and he was anxious to see how things panned out once they were behind closed doors.<br><br><hr><hr><div align="center">tagging -- Edouard<br>location -- lower floor; heading upstairs</div>
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Cherrywood]: The Mounted Steed -- First Floor</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Oneiros</strong> on <strong>20-01-2013, 06:30:13</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft"><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Edouard</div><div class="spoiler_body">(http://i318.photobucket.com/albums/mm406/AGirlontheInternet/Eddie2-1.jpg)</div></div></div> "Good, means I don't have to pay for one," Edouard responded when Jereil mentioned his room was the last one upstairs. He tugged the man along with him, a blush still on his cheeks from embarrassment but he said nothing. He hadn't noticed the grin on Jereil's face yet or he likely would've smacked it right off of him, pushing the door to the room open and shoving him inside, following him and closing it behind them. <br><br>[Continued on 2nd Floor] (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=163320.0)
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Cherrywood]: The Mounted Steed -- First Floor</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sparrowhawke</strong> on <strong>20-01-2013, 08:48:08</strong>
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				Cherrywood. Driskoll had thought it rather too innocent for his tastes when he first heard of it, but he had been assured numerous times that it was well worth a visit. Eventually he'd decided to go, and now, here he was. He made a face, thinking for a moment on what he was going to do to the 'friend' that had insisted on his journey. The place looked more innocent than a virginal priest. The thought that it was perhaps too innocent crossed his mind, but he was in no mood to entertain the thought. He was tired from his travels, and he needed a drink. He rode his horse towards what appeared to be an inn, tying it's reins securely before heading in.<br><br>"Hm, maybe I won't kill him then." The facade of innocence dropped like a whore's clothing the moment he stepped inside, and he breathed in the corruption like a breath of fresh air. He slipped inside, confidence seeping back into his posture. He went to order himself a drink, then found himself a seat. He would find out what there was to know about the village, where to have fun, where to make money... Everything important. He would go on from there, though perhaps after a good rest. Riding a horse all day was not good for the areas between one's legs.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Cherrywood]: The Mounted Steed -- First Floor</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Flaming Dead Man</strong> on <strong>20-01-2013, 09:20:57</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft"><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>M<br>A<br>R<br>C<br>U<br>S</strong></span></div></div><div class="floatleft"><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size">&nbsp; <br>&nbsp; <br>&nbsp; <br>&nbsp; <br>&nbsp; <br>&nbsp; </span></div><hr><hr>Marcus looked up as the new blood entered his establishment and eyed him for a moment before gesturing him over.&nbsp; He might've found reason to fear his presence, but criminals were far more than common, here.&nbsp; Even he, himself, had a history, but that was another story entirely.&nbsp; He got the man his drink and kept watch, curiosity reigning over him.<br><br>Somehow, he felt different than any man he'd ever had walk though those doors, like there was some deep, dark secret that he shouldn't question.&nbsp; Still, that curiosity was burning at the back of his mind...<br><br>"Hey, Newcomer," he spoke from his place behind the bar, "...What's your name?"<br><hr><hr><hr><div align="center">LOCATION * BEHIND THE BAR<br>TAGGING * DRISKOLL</div>
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Cherrywood]: The Mounted Steed -- First Floor</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sparrowhawke</strong> on <strong>20-01-2013, 09:32:15</strong>
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				Driskoll looked up as he was addressed, letting his eyes settle on the man behind the bar. A wide grin settled itself on his face, and he took a sip of his drink before answering. "Driskoll. You the owner?" The barkeep could be useful, they always seemed to know the most about a place. People talked a lot in bars, and a good barkeep - at least in Driskoll's eyes - was the type to take in all that information. "Bet you know where to go for a good time round here, huh?" The lecherous expression on his face would leave no doubt as to what sort of 'fun' the man had in mind. A place wasn't worth staying at if it didn't have somewhere he could have a good fuck. He drained his drink with a happy sigh, ordering himself another with the same grin.
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Cherrywood]: The Mounted Steed -- First Floor</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Flaming Dead Man</strong> on <strong>20-01-2013, 09:44:49</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft"><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>M<br>A<br>R<br>C<br>U<br>S</strong></span></div></div><div class="floatleft"><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size">&nbsp; <br>&nbsp; <br>&nbsp; <br>&nbsp; <br>&nbsp; <br>&nbsp; </span></div><hr><hr>Marcus finished the glass he'd been cleaning before responding, leaning on the bar slightly to make his voice a bit clearer.&nbsp; "Good times?&nbsp; I'd recommend Jereil.&nbsp; He lives upstairs and doesn't charge, but I think he's with someone at the moment."&nbsp; He didn't seem to be finished with his information as he paused to get that second drink.&nbsp; "...Until then, there's always the brothel located down the road.&nbsp; Can I get you anything else?&nbsp; Got a menu you can look at, if you want.&nbsp; Name's Marcus, by the way.&nbsp; Welcome to my Inn."<br><br>Part of him wanted Driskoll to stick around.&nbsp; It was easier to get to know someone when they were in sight versus word of mouth, and Marcus knew everyone.&nbsp; He had a feeling, though, that this first visit would be brief.<br><hr><hr><hr><div align="center">LOCATION * BEHIND THE BAR<br>TAGGING * DRISKOLL</div>
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Cherrywood]: The Mounted Steed -- First Floor</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sparrowhawke</strong> on <strong>20-01-2013, 10:14:24</strong>
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				Dirskoll hummed, considering both propositions. Jereil could certainly save him some money, but even if Driskoll didn't much look it, money was no longer a problem. However, some brothels were.. Less than pleasant, to say the least. The Inn had surpassed his expectations, and it led to the hope that his informant had been correct about everything else, as well. But that could wait. The mere mention of food had his stomach growling. "A menu would be appreciated." He took it when it was offered, ordering himself a hearty meal, digging in for a few moments before speaking again. "And if you could arrange to have my horse fed and watered? Big black stallion tied to the post outside." Poor thing was probably as hungry as he was, which one could assume was rather ravenous, given how he began to tear into his food moments later.
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Cherrywood]: The Mounted Steed -- First Floor</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Flaming Dead Man</strong> on <strong>22-01-2013, 22:48:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft"><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>M<br>A<br>R<br>C<br>U<br>S</strong></span></div></div><div class="floatleft"><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size">&nbsp; <br>&nbsp; <br>&nbsp; <br>&nbsp; <br>&nbsp; <br>&nbsp; </span></div><hr><hr>Marcus was quick to offer the menu, pulling it from his back pocket.&nbsp; He waited for the man to find what he liked -- of his grand total of five items, scribbled onto what seemed to be a leaf from his ledger -- then was swift to deliver it.&nbsp; Like most food of the age, it had been sitting for some time, waiting for a mouth to feed, but at least mouths came often at the inn; Driskoll's particular meal had only been made the day before.&nbsp; He expected payment before setting the meal before him.<br><br>He'd just turned to head off when he was stopped and asked to tend to his horse.&nbsp; He made a face, but nodded nonetheless, heading back behind the bar.&nbsp; He caught his busboy and had him do the dirty work, instructing him to charge Driskoll when he finished.<br><br>This was a bloody inn, not a stable.<br><hr><hr><hr><div align="center">LOCATION * BEHIND THE BAR<br>TAGGING * DRISKOLL</div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Cherrywood]: The Mounted Steed -- First Floor</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Flaming Dead Man</strong> on <strong>23-01-2013, 00:11:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://th07.deviantart.net/fs71/PRE/i/2012/193/1/b/the_chapel_by_vakidzashi-d2ys90d.jpg)</div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 24pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="bbc_font">RAELAR</span></strong></span><br>[tagging - Kesh] || [location - entering the inn]</div><br>Raelar rode into town on a chocolate steed, hood pulled over his eyes and with another riding between his arms.&nbsp; He kept his ward's arms bound together, a cloth over his eyes, and a gag wedged between his teeth; he didn't trust the man one bit.&nbsp; He was sure to keep said ward's hood pulled, as well, unwilling to let anyone know at first glance what he was.&nbsp; The only reason he hadn't killed the wretch, after all, was because he still served a bit of purpose, a portion of which was selling him for a good enough offer.<br><br>The ranger knew little of the town he rode into, but he was hungry and he craved the comfort of a proper bed.&nbsp; Besides, there was opportunity to get a fair amount of gold for his little thief; even if they didn't purchase him as a slave, there were plenty willing to buy just a night.<br><br>Stomach growling, he released his horse; the beast was a friend of his, of sorts, borrowed from the wilds and sent back until he might need him again.&nbsp; He whispered gratitude before the beast turned and clopped off to find a bit of grass, and Raelar stepped into the inn he'd journeyed to.&nbsp; Ward in tow by use of a short lead, he found a corner table and sat the boy down before ordering a drink and food; the ward would get nothing until he earned it.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Cherrywood]: The Mounted Steed -- First Floor</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sparrowhawke</strong> on <strong>23-01-2013, 06:41:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Driskoll saw the face, of course, and had to resist the urge to smile as the man turned away. He obviously wasn't making any friends at that moment, a fact that might be best to be rectified. There was plenty of time later for everyone to get sick of him. When the busboy came back to collect payment, Driskoll made sure to leave a rather generous amount of coin. Nothing he would miss, and something that would perhaps endear the innkeeper toward him a little more. He would've tended to the horse himself, of course, were he not too busy tending to his own needs. <br><br>As it was, he was far too intent on his meal to do much but eat and drink till it was finished, only afterwards turning to look at the bar once more. Just as he did, a rather interesting person made their way inside. He was made even more interesting by having a well restrained person in tow, lead by an awfully short leash. He was liking this place more and more the longer he was there. Perhaps he might even stick around for longer than a few days. He sipped the remainder of his drink, finally standing when he was finished. He needed to find somewhere to stable his horse for the night, then maybe he would head over to the brothel...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Cherrywood]: The Mounted Steed -- First Floor</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sparrowhawke</strong> on <strong>23-01-2013, 09:08:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"The idiots at the last village told us this place was only a day's ride away." Feichin grumbled, casting an annoyed glance towards the man walking beside the horse. He was torn between blaming the men who had given them directions and blaming the slave. Of course, he eventually settled on blaming them both. "You're too slow." Of course, his slave could hardly be rightfully blamed for not travelling on foot at the same speed as a horse, but Feichin was in no mood to hear that logic. The heat was making him crabby, even though he barely wore any clothing, and the weather was likely considered quite temperate to most native inhabitants. His complaints about the country were numerous and varied, and he never seemed to be in a particularly good mood. But he had his reasons to be there, even if he rarely spoke them.<br><br>"At least we're finally here." He muttered, leading the horse into the small village. Of course, he'd ridden the whole way, while leaving his 'travelling partner' to walk at the side, only allowing him up when he became too frustrated with their slow progress. "They had better be right about this place or I'll go back and use them as the next batch of ingredients." He looked around, noting the inn with a certain amount of distaste. "It will have to do, I suppose." While he complained, he still imagined it would be vastly better than the tent they had been forced to sleep in for the past few nights. He slipped off the horses back, checking the numerous pouches at his belt. Once he was sure that everything was there and secure, he turned to his slave. "We'd best go in, keep your wits about you, as difficult as that might be."<br><br>With that comment, he slipped into the inn, holding himself with the arrogance and poise befitting his station. People turned to look, he was used to it. The bright, tribal make-up and his foreign clothing never failed to draw attention, his language even more so. He quickly sought out the inn-keeper, looking to his slave once more. "Tell him we want to rent a room." His language was just as harsh as his tone, making him seem even fiercer. Which was just fine with him, it helped him decide the mettle of those he met.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Cherrywood]: The Mounted Steed -- First Floor</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Oneiros</strong> on <strong>23-01-2013, 17:16:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft"><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Aidan</div><div class="spoiler_body">(http://i318.photobucket.com/albums/mm406/AGirlontheInternet/ab512e2b150f129e25fcbf018dec0e75.jpg)</div></div><strong>Location:</strong> Mounted Steed <br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Feichin, Innkeeper&nbsp; </div> "Apologies, sir, I'll try to walk faster," Aidan replied through slightly gritted teeth, his words only sounding <em>slightly</em> sarcastic, not having the energy to argue with Feichin the way he normally did when the man pinned blame on him for something that wasn't his fault. They'd been travelling for longer than he'd expected, he was exhausted and it had been far too long, in his mind at least, since his last fix, and he knew if he argued, Feichin was liable to hold out on him as punishment. <br><br>As they <em>finally</em> arrived, Aidan felt only slightly relieved, getting to rest properly probably wasn't in the cards for him any time soon. At least they were finally in Cherrywood, though, and he set to work securing the horse while his master looked through their packed supplies. He mumbled a quick 'yes sir' to the man when he spoke of keeping his wits about him, shaking his head a bit as he tried to clear the slight cloudiness of withdrawal from it. He'd gone longer than this without a fix, but it didn't mean it wasn't still unpleasant. <br><br>Aidan walked behind Feichin, a respectful distance from him, trying to ignore the stares that he knew they were getting. They normally didn't bother him, but when he was already feeling irritable, they suddenly seemed much more noticeable, and it made him slightly tense, wanting to snap at them all and ask what they were looking at, or if they wanted to paint a picture. As Feichin found the innkeeper, Aidan found himself fidgeting a bit, his master's words bringing his focus back onto the task at hand, translating for him.<br><br>"We need a room," he said quickly, balling his hands into fists at his sides to stop fidgeting. "We need to rent one. A room. Please."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Cherrywood]: The Mounted Steed -- First Floor</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Flaming Dead Man</strong> on <strong>28-01-2013, 04:47:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft"><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>M<br>A<br>R<br>C<br>U<br>S</strong></span></div></div><div class="floatleft"><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size">&nbsp; <br>&nbsp; <br>&nbsp; <br>&nbsp; <br>&nbsp; <br>&nbsp; </span></div><hr><hr>Marcus, of course, noticed the two immediately; it was hard not to catch someone so bright enter a place so dark.&nbsp; There was instant dislike for whom he percieved to be the 'lead', and there wasn't much more appreciation for his 'friend', either.&nbsp; He was tempted to just say no, but funds were at stake.&nbsp; He made a tight, irritated face and quick judgement on how much money the two might have.<br><br>"...I'll rent to you for twenty-five gold a night.&nbsp; Take it or leave it."&nbsp; The price was more than three times what he usually charged, and even that was above what most inns charged.&nbsp; His inn was the only one in town that rented to non-residents; if the two didn't want to pay, they could sleep outside, for all he cared.<hr><hr><hr><div align="center">LOCATION * BEHIND THE BAR<br>TAGGING * DRISKOLL</div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Cherrywood]: The Mounted Steed -- First Floor</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sparrowhawke</strong> on <strong>28-01-2013, 09:09:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Feichin was used to this treatment. Some part of his mind recognized that hell, they were probably still treating him better than he would treat them, but that thought was overridden by the simple fact that he was just <em>better</em> than them. Thus, him treating them like that was fine, it was normal. Them treating him the same, however, was wrong. Unfortunately for him, he was surrounded by these idiots, and he recognized that pointing out what was clear to him could very well get him killed, at worst. At least, it would have him without a room for the night. "He robs me and we all know it." He couldn't keep the venom out of his voice, but a moment later he sighed. He would review it again the next day, but for now, he needed a bed. "If I find lice in my bed..." He continued to mutter a string of increasingly insulting curses as he dug the money out of his purse. Of course, he could be very well making things worse for himself, but by his standards he was behaving admirably under the circumstances.<br><br>"And you," he turned to his rather unwilling ward. "If you want your fix tonight you had best start bringing our things up to the room." He handed the money to the innkeeper, unwilling, but at least managing to keep himself from looking disgusted at the prospect. "I'm taking a look around, come and find me when you've finished." With that, he turned to leave, heading out of the door.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Cherrywood]: The Mounted Steed -- First Floor</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Oneiros</strong> on <strong>02-02-2013, 07:53:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft"><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Aidan</div><div class="spoiler_body">(http://i318.photobucket.com/albums/mm406/AGirlontheInternet/ab512e2b150f129e25fcbf018dec0e75.jpg)</div></div><strong>Location:</strong> Mounted Steed <br><strong>Tagging:</strong> Feichin, Innkeeper&nbsp; </div> Aidan tensed slightly at the sum the man quoted them. Feichin wasn't going to be pleased, and he may take the bad mood out on him. He remained quiet as his master rummaged through his things for the money to pay, hearing but not acknowledging his cursing, keeping an annoyed glare focused on Marcus, inwardly blaming him for putting Feichin into a bad mood that he'd no doubt have to contend with. Through his teeth he muttered some, nothing audible, taking the key to the room.<br><br>"Yes sir," he said quickly when Feichin demanded he bring their things to the room, not adding anything else, hoping that by being compliant he'd get the drugs he was craving sooner. He headed back to where they had stabled the horse to gather the things that were packed on it, intending to try and take it up in as few trips as possible. He knew it was just the withdrawals talking, but he was feeling very anxious and jittery, having a bit of trouble focusing on his task and making him a little bit clumsy. As a result he had to make himself go a little more slowly and carefully than he'd have liked, he knew Feichin would be pissed if he dropped or broke anything.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Cherrywood]: The Mounted Steed -- First Floor</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nadir</strong> on <strong>20-02-2013, 04:26:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft"><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Irisandd Mott</div><div class="spoiler_body">(http://i286.photobucket.com/albums/ll98/thetragicfragments/naked_truth_by_anndr-d36e6o8.jpg)</div></div><strong>Tagging</strong>: Barkeep</div> <br><br>Iris couldn't keep himself from looking quickly from face-to-face the moment he entered the pub, seeking out the threats among the drunkards. There were quite a few of interest - one one in particular that made him curse his usual luck. Of course his mark would be in here. When Iris had all but given up catching up to the man, he'd stumble across him. Not like he could act now. Well - he <em>could</em>, but he'd have to make a break for it. And his horse was being desaddled, so that would slow him down. And he'd not be able to have that bath his bones were practically weeping for -<br><br>Later. It would be much easier to do it in a few hours time. When his own stink didn't make being stealthy impossible. <br><br>Iris went to the bar, his aches making him move with a deal less grace than usual, and he rapped his knuckles on the bartop. "Does this place have a wash room?" he asked the barman once he had his attention. 
			</dd>
		</dl>
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