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[LAST CALL] It's Closing Time.
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thorr kan
Feb 21, 2024, 12:08:45 AM2/21/24
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> Reaching the door, Thorr-kan gently opened it and stepped inside The Dragon’s Inn.
The White Minotaur stepped through the door into the Inn’s common room. The Inn’s anti-violence wards skittered along the minotaur’s shield, and his illusion was stripped away by those same protections. Thorr-kan expected this, so was not disturbed by the occurrence. Here at least, some small magic still dwelt.
The minotaur looked around the common room, and his eyes widened in surprise. The room was a warmly lit as ever. But it held only four well-lit corners, rather than the seventeen dimly lit corners usual in The Dragon’s Inn. Then his brow furrowed in consternation. Nor were the corners populated by the usual bevy of darkly cowled, mysterious cloaked figures. In fact, they were not populated at all.
Thorr-kan’s gaze swept across the common room, taking in the few, non-descript, human patrons. Still no non-humans to be seen. Said gaze landed on the bartender, standing behind his bar and polishing mugs. A bartender’s eyebrow arched as he caught sight of the newest patron. “Minotaur,” he greeted Thorr-kan laconically.
A grin broke out on Thorr-kan’s face. “Rowan,” he nodded in return and strode across the common room to the bar. The two clasped forearms in the warriors’ grip. Rowan Littlefair looked up at the minotaur (something he usually did not have to do to patrons), while Thorr-kan looked down at the burly human (though not as far down as he usually had to with humans).
“What…?” Thorr-kan gestured, encompassing his entire volume of questions in one word.
Rowand sighed and answered, “Times change, friend.” He reached below the bar and poured a tankard of liquid. The heady aroma of dwarf spirits assaulted Thorr-kan’s nostrils. He took the proffered tankard thankfully.
Something uttered, “Gleep?” plaintively. A pseudo-dragon faded into view on the bar, raising wide, piteous eyes to the bartender.
Rowan smiled and scratched Gleep under its scaly chin. “Would you like fries, little one?” he asked. Both human and minotaur chuckled.
“I heard that!” came the deep shout from the kitchen. The Short Ogre Cook hustled out, placed a heaping plate of spiced potato wedges in front of the minotaur and pseudo-dragon, and flitted back into the kitchen. “Good to see you, Thorr-kan!” he bellowed.
Mary, Rowan’s wife, passed the bar with a tray of tankards. A smile dimpled her face in greeting as she continued to serve other patrons. Rowan smiled back in pleasure. He then turned to Thorr-kan.
“You caught us at a good time friend. What you see is the end of The Dragon’s Inn. After tonight, we close our doors.”
Thorr-kan was speechless for a moment. When he recovered, the minotaur said, “Tell me *everything.*”
The White Minotaur stepped through the door into the Inn’s common room. The Inn’s anti-violence wards skittered along the minotaur’s shield, and his illusion was stripped away by those same protections. Thorr-kan expected this, so was not disturbed by the occurrence. Here at least, some small magic still dwelt.
The minotaur looked around the common room, and his eyes widened in surprise. The room was a warmly lit as ever. But it held only four well-lit corners, rather than the seventeen dimly lit corners usual in The Dragon’s Inn. Then his brow furrowed in consternation. Nor were the corners populated by the usual bevy of darkly cowled, mysterious cloaked figures. In fact, they were not populated at all.
Thorr-kan’s gaze swept across the common room, taking in the few, non-descript, human patrons. Still no non-humans to be seen. Said gaze landed on the bartender, standing behind his bar and polishing mugs. A bartender’s eyebrow arched as he caught sight of the newest patron. “Minotaur,” he greeted Thorr-kan laconically.
A grin broke out on Thorr-kan’s face. “Rowan,” he nodded in return and strode across the common room to the bar. The two clasped forearms in the warriors’ grip. Rowan Littlefair looked up at the minotaur (something he usually did not have to do to patrons), while Thorr-kan looked down at the burly human (though not as far down as he usually had to with humans).
“What…?” Thorr-kan gestured, encompassing his entire volume of questions in one word.
Rowand sighed and answered, “Times change, friend.” He reached below the bar and poured a tankard of liquid. The heady aroma of dwarf spirits assaulted Thorr-kan’s nostrils. He took the proffered tankard thankfully.
Something uttered, “Gleep?” plaintively. A pseudo-dragon faded into view on the bar, raising wide, piteous eyes to the bartender.
Rowan smiled and scratched Gleep under its scaly chin. “Would you like fries, little one?” he asked. Both human and minotaur chuckled.
“I heard that!” came the deep shout from the kitchen. The Short Ogre Cook hustled out, placed a heaping plate of spiced potato wedges in front of the minotaur and pseudo-dragon, and flitted back into the kitchen. “Good to see you, Thorr-kan!” he bellowed.
Mary, Rowan’s wife, passed the bar with a tray of tankards. A smile dimpled her face in greeting as she continued to serve other patrons. Rowan smiled back in pleasure. He then turned to Thorr-kan.
“You caught us at a good time friend. What you see is the end of The Dragon’s Inn. After tonight, we close our doors.”
Thorr-kan was speechless for a moment. When he recovered, the minotaur said, “Tell me *everything.*”
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