Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » [Tavern RP] Thank Gods It's Open!

It wasn't their idea to name the inn this way, but it unfortunately was. Marketing wasn't their best knife to wield in the battle of life, but neither was whoever came up with the idiotic name of the place. Whatever it is, they'd heard worse--The Neighbour's House was definitely the worst name for an inn, but by far Thank Gods It's Open! was a running contender.

And Cirhe was currently the owner for it, gods grant them strength. Which one? All of them, they didn't care which.

Wiping down the counter, they also counted the minutes down to when the hands of a wall-clock would hit half past two--people would normally peek in, by then. If not, well... more time to dry tankards.

The inn had dropped silent until the quick, zapping sound of Five Hargreeves, teleporting into the place with a bright, blue light, interrupted it all... Five was a short one, small, looked very young, but he was actually much, much older. He had learned to time-travel and things got pretty chaotic, long story; short.

Klaus, who was older than Five, the age that Five should have been if he hadn't miraculously disappeared in the middle of dinner one day time-traveling for the first time, walked in with a pink parasol and a cigarette dangling in his mouth. "Fivey, can't you just use the front-door? It's there for a reason~" Klaus said in a whiny voice .Five replied, "At least I'm not like Diego and bust down front-doors." Five flashed a smirk and walked to the counter, sitting down on one of the bar stools, Klaus slowly joining him afterwards.

"Hello~" Klaus waved at Cirhe, "Give some booze, any booze really. Don't care what kind of booze, just something to get me drunk off my a**~" Klaus leaned his arms down on the counter and giggled underneath his breath in a flamboyant way.

Five looked at Klaus, then at Cirhe, "Coffee for me. Black. Laced with liquor." He said, tapping his fingers on the counter. He knew that Cirhe would probably be off-put by Five, knowing his appearance, but hey, Five was used to it and it was common for people to look at him weird.

He looked like a 13-year-old boy in a college uniform for crying out loud.

The door gracelessly flung open as a rather disheveled-looking figure stumbled on in - Ilakha. She's clad in scale on her skin and leather on her clothes, caked in dirt and grass stains. Despite this, the widest, proudest grin could be spied upon her face. She clambered through the doorway, trying to navigate it with a net over her shoulder and a satchel full of jars (of dirt?) on her hip. The door creaked shut again and she stood with a content sigh. She spat a dried leaf out with a little 'pa-tooey' before heading up to the counter.

"HIIII!" Goodness, she is loud. Just then, she threw her gloved index finger up in the air. "One moment, please!"

Ilakha leaned her net against the counter, trying to be careful of the other patrons there. Meanwhile, she dug into her pocket for what appeared to be a notepad and a pencil. It is deposited gently on the counter before Cirhe. A hand raised in front of her right horn - two fingers of her right hand tap in that area.

"My name is Ilakha! I am deaf! Please use this notebook to co-mum-icate with me!" Her mispronunciation doesn't sound like the result of being deaf, but rather, the result of Common being a second - or potentially third or fourth - language. "Oh, but if you know Western Sign Language, that would be super okay with me. I studied it for. . ." She counted on her fingers with a squint. "Two years now? Two years now. I am preeeetty good at it now, I like to think."

Once she finished information-dumping, she finally decided to sit down. Her dirty tail curled around her, resting in her lap.

"Can I have a menu, please? Many thank-you's!"

After Ilakha's is a much quieter entrance, the door opening just enough to allow its opener in, little whisps of snow swirling in along with him.

Wrapped in an indigo robe, splattered with gold designs of moons and stars, is a rather tall, extremely voluminously-furred cat. His colors are many and his hat is pointy and conical and decorated much similarly to his robes.

Ivo witnesses Ilakha's interaction with the barkeep and offers the closest cat-equivalent to a polite smile in her direction as he approaches the counter himself, waiting his turn to order, rubbing and kneading his forepaws together in an effort to warm them.

He does find it rather odd that a child is in a tavern, but assumes him to be the son of the taller human man, having missed Five's order entirely.

Ah, customers. And not a moment too soon, they thought to themselves. Hanging a dishcloth on a hook, they cast a respectful look at their first guest; disheveled, flagrantly flamboyant, and... probably the first to lack self-control once he's deep in his cups. Wouldn't be trusted to front his bill when he's had his fill of liquor and decides to find somewhere warm to lay his head to rest.

The child, on the other hand, exuded a curtness that could be conveyed as arrogance at first glance, but if there was anything Cirhe knew from their time working customer service, that it was to never assume; to assume is to make an arse of you and me. The child could be one of those strange fellows who only presented as children, for reasons known only to them. He'd serve as a more fronter of coin, but that teleportation trick--Dimension Door, perhaps?- was something Cirhe could not interrupt if he refused to foot the bill on the flagrant man's behalf.

"For you, we'll start with black ale, then work our way up." A strong, yet vile swill they had. Akin to drinking straight from the toilet. Enough for a regular man's good time, but Cirhe had no idea what Klaus' definition of a good time was. "And as for you..."

"I'd gladly serve you something that mirrors your airs, but it does go against policy to serve alcohol to minors, though if you are one of those with... extenuating circumstances, if we are of a similar understanding, may I ask for any proper identification to prove your real age? I could give it a check, and hopefully after verification serve you the best we have. Would that be agreeable terms, sir?" They smiled. "Otherwise, I do have an arcane waiter who brews good café latte."

Oh my. Oh dear, oh me, oh stars, oh gods. Oh, this customer was loud. Cirhe tried to keep a welcoming smile on their face, letting the Au Ra speak; their memory of lands faraway were hazy, but the sight of the scaled people was a faint one in their memory. Much else was lost to time, but such rumination was neither here nor there.

Despite not being in Eorzea, she spoke in conversational Common, and Cirhe nodded in understanding. They wrote down in the notebook--

"My sincerest apologies. Though I may be born of the Skatay Ranges, I was not taught Eorzean sign language or script, but I will do my best to serve you." With that, they slid a menu to Ilakha and gestured to it as if to gently say, please take your time reading through it.

Cirhe looked at the last customer, they smiled and gestured to any of the open bar stools. "Welcome! We are open for business, thank the gods." A stupid line they had to say, fitting the theme and all. "My, such a nice robe you have there. Indigo is such a nice colour, pairs well with gold. Please, look through the menu. I'll be with you shortly."

Like Elakha, they pass a menu to Ivo with utmost care.

For all, arcane waiters dressed in a similar uniform as Cirhe started the patrons with a glass of water. Not what they asked for, but! Why not slake their thirst while they waited as Cirhe ran Five's ID?

Five didn't even sigh at the request, he was so used to it by now. "Well, I don't have an ID, but I have a file from the future if that'll help you." He looked over at Klaus, "Klaus, file." He muttered.

"What?~" Klaus raised his head, "The file, Klaus." He repeated, an annoyed tone to his voice. "Oh, oh, isn't that back at the academy or something?~" Klaus nodded his head, grinning. Five sighed, disappeared in a bright blue light, and soon reappeared with a file in his hand, he looked back at Cirhe and handed them the file.

It had an article (with most of the articles' contents marked out for personal reasons) with Five as his 58-year-old self in the future, a older man with grey hair and a hat, suit and tie. The stamped date on the file was a lot longer away than the year it was here, and there was many mentions of his name, here and there, scattered across the file. "Hope that's enough." Five said.

Klaus waited for the glass of black ale, occasionally taking out his cigarette to blow the smoke out of his mouth rather than his nose.

(( I didn't know how to go about this canonically, so I made a little something up, ha ha. Forgive me. ))

Ilakha already murmured a soft 'thank you' after she's presented with her water. She leaned forward to take a sip as she read the notepad, trying to do her best to avoid getting her dirty hands on the nice glass. When she rose for a breath - and a long 'aaaah' - she took the menu and gave a nod, indicating that she understood.

"It is really alright," she said with a polite wave-off. "Just thought I would ask. Sometimes I get lucky. Sometimes I am less so. But I do not mind, because today, I have caught quite a rare bug. A rare bug indeed!"

She eyed over the menu intently, lips pursed before she emitted a soft whine. Her gaze flickered upwards as she took her notepad to slide it over to the furry patron who sat next to her - Ivo. In addition to this, she also displayed the menu to him.

"Excuse me! I cannot decide. Should I get the cheese pie and onion soup? Or the lemming and berry soup? Oh, and please use the notepad to talk to me." Her next words are stage-whispered, "I am deaf!"

It's likely crusts of dirt are dropping onto Ivo's robe, perhaps much to his chagrin.

(Posting ahead of Ivo! You can join back in at any point, there's no post order.)

(No worries! Making things up on the spot is 100% the way to go, you did great!)

Where there was once silence not three minutes ago, there were now customers to attend to. No time to mull about, Cirhe thought to themself, as the ambient sounds of a running tap where an arcane waiter was pouring Klaus his full flagon of black ale filled the back of their mind. They saw the waiter, faceless and more of an amorphous glow of energy wearing the same short-sleeved uniform they were and quite roughly shaped into a human than an actual person with distinctive features, served it to him with a polite bow. Cirhe, on the other hand, was preoccupied with the file Five had handed them and gave a nod.

"Hmm, the sharpness of your cheekbones do draw a match, but I can work with this! Thank you for your cooperation, sir." They smiled with a bow, before running a finger down and around the document's contents.

Whispering words that resembled wisps in the wind, like soft music whistled into the ear, Cirhe cast a soft spell into the file. Pages of the document flipped up as if blown by wind of an arcane nature, unnatural yet controlled, and sigils lit up and around various points where Five would realize his personal data coincided. Surely, though he only looked and dressed a boy, he was approaching the age most mortals would be retiring at.

"...Ah! It seems all is in order." They whistled again, before snapping their fingers. The arcane sigils died down on command and along with the snap of those fingers, so did the personal wind, and Cirhe returned the file back to its proper owner. Behind them, another waiter had started to make their preparations for a long black, starting from a blend of the right beans. "Thank you for your cooperation, sir. A black coffee, laced, as requested. If you’d give my staff a moment, your drink will be with you shortly."

A bug, the lady mentioned? Oh dear, a bug. As sensitive as their hearing was, it was thoroughly unlikely that they saw Ilakha trek all that dirt into the inn, for if they did. Oh, if they did, all over their cherrywood floors. Well, at least she was taking a proper gander at the menu; a sale of items made is a day the taxman doesn't put the establishment up for sale. Now that would be a nightmare.

“A bug? Madam, perhaps–Please, may I borrow–Gods, do I– Servants! Pen and paper. Chop chop, one o’ youse–Ahem! Madam, please, if I may have your attention.” They said, before scribbling something into a napkin.

”Madam, if I could make a recommendation of food; hearty stews are the pride of Fichester and we have a choice between meatless and classic.”

Gods, anything to distract her from the damn bug. If she pulled it out and scared the customers, that'd be a waste of three patrons.

(( Thanks, glad I did good. ))

Five took back the file, teleported away, and came back without out, sitting back on the stool.

Meanwhile, Klaus was staring at someone on the seat beside him, except...there wasn't really anyone there? At least, that anybody else could see. For you see, he had the ability to see ghosts, specifically one ghost named Ben Hargreeves. Klaus and Five's deceased brother.

Ben was always trying to keep Klaus out of trouble, telling him when to stop drinking, stop smoking, stop...well..Anything to be honest, because Klaus just had no damn sense and Ben actually did.

Five tapped his fingers on the counter gently, not even hard enough to make any noises because he didn't want to disturb the other customers, and he looked around the tavern. It was a cozy place, actually, he could get used to it. Especially if they served good coffee and the Temps Commission didn't hunt him down.

...Temps Commission you ask?
Never you mind, it's nothing, really...

Shouldn't have to be explained here.

Ilakha was already eyeballing drinks by the time Cirhe pushed forward the napkin. Luckily, it wasn't lost on her entirely, her eyes flicking over to see the writing upon it.

"Well, how could I ever say 'no' to meat." She grinned with a mouth full of the sharp teeth of a carnivore. "Yes, please! I would much like that. And can I get it with a slice of that cheese pie? I do love cheese. . . but not as much as I love bugs." Oh, no. "I found a Gigas beetle that is a bilateral gynandromorph; they are male on one side and female on the other side! It is astoundingly rare! Would you like to see!?"

Her volume picked up a little bit; perhaps too much for what was appropriate indoors, as well as when discussing such a valuable creature to science. And magic, if one was so inclined.

A waiter of arcane smoke and flame placed a cup of hot coffee near Five, before politely leaving with a modest bow. Klaus had his drink, and so did Five. That was two down; food and drink was rarely a good combination, especially if Klaus seemed like he looked like he was going to be there for quite a while, pursuing drink more than food. Surely, Cirhe had spells and staff to clean up any messes, but precaution was always better than having to stand the smell of vomit for even half a second. Something told them they were both here to either drink themselves silly, or to hang out for a buzz.

"If you'd like more drinks, please don't hesitate to call for me." The barkeep said with a smile, before turning their full attention to the lady of the group, trying their absolute best to keep an appropriate smile at the mention of an offer to be shown said bug. Oh no, no, no. Hells, no.

Volume, at least, was something they were less inclined to chide the patron on; after all, this was an inn, and speaking loudly was part and parcel of what one could do at such an establishment. They could not get mad at Ilakha at that. What they could draw lines in, however, was the display of beetles in their prized establishment.

“I–No, thank you! No, no–” They tried to say at first, then louder, upon remembering that the poor lady had lost her hearing, dove for the napkin and scribbled in giant letters, “Perhaps another time, in the garden outside! Tavern air is bad for bugs. Alcohol. Keep them safe, please.”

By the gods, they hoped that was subtle enough to get the message across. With that, they turned back to the two at the table–laced coffee, black ale.

“So, how are we feeling today? Both of you look like two different definitions of the word ‘harrowed’. Do we have any names, or are we strictly keeping things anonymous?”

Bright eyes, baby-smooth face, and dark hair slicked back with a bit of grease-- A small amount of flair for an otherwise plain looking man. Someone who looked like they absolutely needed an inn to sit down at and grab a pint or two-- And Thank Gods It's Open! Well, it just didn't get any better than that, did it? Shouldering open the door as he rolled up the sleeves on a plain, soft grey tunic, he looked around at the patrons already pleasant. Three was a crowd, so what did that make four? Well, now it was about to be five-- Sans the barkeep.

A proper little gathering.

Faded leather boots made the softest sound as he crossed the normally-creaky wooden floor, smiling at the innkeeper. "Nice crowd you have tonight," Voice soft, the man looked to the other patrons and gave a small wave of his hand to them. "Hope it's going well for you too, innkeep." Pulling up a chair with his foot, he silenced the dull sound of worn-wood-on-worn-wood-floor by parking his rear-end on the chair, warped by time to fit any patron's behind perfectly.


"A sour cherry rum, double shot, with whipped cream to top if off, if you don't mind." A breathy little noise escaped him, somewhere between a heh and a sigh. "One of those days-- For rum and playing cards." He paused, leaning into the wooden table and looking at the other motley assembly of patrons with an almost shy, lop-sided smile.

"Anyone else here know how to play the cards, by chance?"

Five sipped at his coffee, glancing up; "My name's Five, Five Hargreeves, and this is my idiot brother, Klaus Hargreeves." He looked over at the other, happily drinking his black ale. "I'm not an idiot, Fivey~" Klaus said, rolling his eyes with a soft flamboyant giggle. "I prefer... Hm... A Handsome man~" He said proudly. Five put the coffee cup down, "You are far from that." Five said without missing a beat.

Klaus nearly choked on his black ale, making Five smirk.
"H-Hey-" Klaus looked at him with a soft, slanted-eye glare.

"Just sharing facts." Five proceeded to drink more of his coffee.
"Ben would agree." Klaus looked away, drinking.

Ben, another Hargreeve, who had died and turned into a ghost that only Klaus could hear and see, shook his head;
"No, I wouldn't."

Klaus didn't respond to that, only glared at him. Then he proceed to drink more of his black ale.

Ilakha had almost missed Cirhe's desperate scribbles, already reaching for her jar. Once she had spied it, she paused, lips forming a small shape along with her vocalized, "Oh."

She uttered in a breathy voice, "I did not consider that. Thank you for telling me! We cannot have the beetle getting drunk now, can we?"

It was debatable whether or not insects could get drunk by breathing alcohol, but Ilakha decided she didn't want to risk it. Instead, she folded up her menu and set it down in front of her in an ever-so-delicate manner.

"I will have the classic Fichester stew with cheese pie, please. And a cranberry cider, if you would be so nice."

She hadn't noticed Edgar meandering in, letting the other patrons - except for Ivo, he was cute - be for now. However, she watched him when he leaned over. And she perked up with even more interest when she saw him seem to mention the word 'cards'.

"Did you say 'card games'?" Her question is far more quiet now and much more modest, but still teeming with barely concealed excitement. "I love card games! Do you have trading cards? Maybe Triple Triad? Or regular, Western playing cards, with the four suits of red and black? I do not mind, whatever it is!"

Above the chatter, above the conversation and melody of plucked piano notes, Cirhe heard it. The pattern of soft boots crossing the wooden floor in a specific set of steps. Their left ear twitched at the recognition, yet kept their gaze trained on the scaled woman as she spoke her order.

Ah, a bird came to roost–but they could not place who it was that came to their door. Alas, if any of them could be easily identified, they'd make for poor uprightmen, so that in itself was a testament to skill. All the innkeep had to do was feign ignorance, and resume their task.

Letting out a chuckle, the innkeeper pushed back their glasses as they listened to the siblings' banter. Surely a family of sorts, they were! Not very identical, but where bonds were concerned, the quips could only come with the love-hate bonds of being raised together.

"Ah, I see that you are close. And"--Just what was Klaus looking at with such an angry look? Nothing that Cirhe could see, definitely. "Hmm, Mister Handsome Stranger, was it? Is there something there that's bothering you? Perhaps I could be of some assistance…" They offered, before the Au Ra lady spoke up.

Cirhe scribbled a reply into the napkin and passed it back to the lady, a relieved smile on their face; should there be a telepath in the room, their thoughts would be full of prayers to which and every god who'd listen that thank goodness she didn't bring out the damn beetles. Not on their precious, polished bartops.

"A stew with cheese pie, and a cranberry cider. Got it–NONA!! NONA, DARLING, LADY HERE WANTS STEW!! CAN WE GET THAT, PLEASE?!" They shouted into the kitchen, and a kindly, beaming little elderly dwarven lady, who was rosy in the cheeks peeked out of the corner to give a thumbs-up to Cirhe, before leaning back into obscurity. "THANK YOU, NONA!!" They finished, before turning to a set where the sweeter drinks and desserts were kept, both for chilling and display. They reached for a bottle of cranberry cider and a cream cheese pie, and filled a tall glass of it with some ice while a waiter quickly swooped in not too soon after with the lady's food.

Cirhe scribbled down on another napkin, smiling again. "Milady, I hope this meets your expectations. Do you have a name, and what do you do for a living, to be so enthusiastic about nature?" Here's hoping they wouldn't regret it.

Finally, they looked up to… the operative. Ah, yes. They could narrow him down to a few suspects, but as far as Cirhe was concerned, they didn't know who he was. "Good evening, sir, and thank the Gods we're open for business. Kindly peruse the menu and I will set your table. May I have your good name, for reference?"

Four out of five active participants, and the large feline decided to take in the ambience, for now. One less person in their brain, Cirhe thought. This they could deal with.

Klaus peered up, "Oh oh, nevermind, it's nothing. Really..." He said, shaking his head.

"...Are you drinking again? That's the third time this week, Klaus." Ben stared at him. It took all of Klaus' energy to ignore his ghost brother and focused on drinking his black ale. Five sipped his coffee quietly, looking around the tavern.

Five was glad his...ex-coworkers, had not arrived to the tavern. Since they were actually trying to kill him, because they were assassins, and...nevermind, a lot of details... They weren't here, it didn't matter. Five just relaxed, drinking his liquor laced, black coffee.

Klaus...was almost done with his glass of black ale.

The man smiled kindly to her, his sea-blue eyes seeming to glitter. Reaching over to his side hidden from the other patrons, a small shuffle of leather and buttons being undone was hidden by the din of the tavern. After a moment, he put a stiff-leather pouch on the table and procured a set of odd-shaped cards. "I usually play with the 'Fallen Ace' ruleset, what's your preference?" Looking over at the napkin that seemed to be between the barkeep and the woman, a soft 'oh!' left his lips. "Would you prefer I write to you?"


"Finnegan Roads, my friend." He grinned, hands opening his small pack of five cards to shuffle them aimlessly. "Or Finn, whatever suits you best. Whatever you can rig up for me would be nice, too." Looking over to the other patrons, the barkeep seemed especially busy with a bundle of them, sipping at tankards of ale, and Edgar tossed a small smile their way before gently tapping the broad side of his cards on the wooden bartop.

"Finn, was it? A fine name." Cirhe replied, laughing, as an unseen waiter dressed in the same outfit gave Finn a glass of water to start with. Their hands shook a bit, but found the strength to still them. "Shortly before we opened, a fixer came by. Didn't plan to meet another in the bar himself already, so I sent him on his merry way. Poor lost chap."

"He didn't come for a tab or some drinks; came in to stir the pot. Marched right up to me and said 'Hey, beautiful!' Strange man, if you ask me--but I told him the scenery 'twixt the west alleys was better, and he said he'd have a gander. I'm sure he's enjoying the evening air."

All nonsense to anyone else listening in, but those familiar with Thieves' Cant would know--Just before opening, there was an attack on the tavern. Strange thing, considering how everything was neatly put together and not a thing was out of place.

Cirhe breathed to compose themself, and turned back to the Hargreeves. "Are we enjoying ourselves this evening? Is there anything else I can get you?"