Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Cat's Tail Tavern [Open]

Irrayithil perked at such polite manners coming from the wolf. She was indeed surprised, if only because she mostly had met abrasive personalities up to this point, with one or two exceptions. So it was nice finding someone who seemed well enough to have a pleasant conversation with. "It's nice meeting you Gabriel." She said with a slight smile. "It's alright I'll figure something out to do with it." She really wish she wouldn't have had too but nonetheless she wasn't going to fuss over such things. Although on thing the wolf said perked her interest, a commonality she didn't expect. "You were teleported here too?" She asked almost too eagerly. A little too desperately. "Did a fog surround you, or did a storm come up, or were you simply just here?" She pressed on.

She noticed the woman was staring at her hair. She patted her dreads making sure everything was in place frowning slightly but no everything was as it should be. So why was she staring? It had been so long since people actually commented about her hair, most had just accepted her for being well... weird. She wasn't used to the stares. "Well we can't all be cooks. I was never to good at it myself." She said attempting to make polite conversation, but it was clear the way she moved her hair over her shoulder away from the woman that she was uncomfortable.

She heard a slight thump on the door and glanced over at it. "Did anyone hear a noise?" She asked.

The werewolf's heightened sense of hearing easily caught the thump, but he dismissed it as the wind. He would then completely turn away from the fire to face the elf, stuffing his hands into his pockets at the same time.
"In all honesty, I'm not sure what brought me here. All I know is that I was running patrol around my village when all the sudden there was no more snow, nor evergreens. Then I find this tavern." He explained, glad to hear he wasn't an only case in all this. He actually kinda felt relieved, that he could stand here and talk with others like any other person, and not have the other being painfully respectful to him. That was one of the few things he didn't like about being an alpha in Lycana.

"Though I have to say, this tavern is quite cozy. It reminds me of the one I visited as a boy in T'rurel."

Litten stared at the door in frustration. "Litten." 'Ok, so Tackle doesn't work, and a Fire-type move would burn the building down, so what can be done?' Then he charged at the door again. "Litten!" 'Tackle!' Litten once again hit the door with the same soft "Thump!"

Rhian was equally surprised by the refined way in which 'Gabriel' received her less than stellar review of his scent and character. Thoroughly diffused, she pursed her lips, feeling her own sort of embarrassed discomfort as she leaned back in her chair, arms folded stubbornly. Always so quick to judge... but he had smelled a little like wet dog, gentlemanly manners aside. She resumed her focus on the woman's rainbow hair as she accosted the man with several questions. Teleportation definitely wasn't the most common of topics, but she wasn't exactly interested in hearing about it. Her own entrance was by no means easy to explain... but it was a nice escape from the hell back home-- another topic she had no desire to address.

Honey gold eyes caught the look of discomfort that crossed the elven lady's face and an amused smile tugged at the corner of her mouth before she finally looked away, sipping the last of her cider. The tavern was quiet enough that she did hear the sudden thump at the door-- followed by the second. Probably just some drunk idiot who forgot how doorknobs worked. "It's the door," Rhian sighed, standing as bugs scattering at her feet in their endeavor to avoid being squished while still trying to stay close. It was an excuse to step away from the two oddities and grab a drink at least. If she was going to start actually trying to converse with some of these people, she was definitely going to need help. "I'll get it," she volunteered, heading towards the door and opening it.

Her eyes instantly fell on the small cat-like create at her feet and... her heart melted. Stealing a short glance over her shoulder to ensure the others weren't looking, she crouched down and extended her hand. "Aww," she cooed, "Hey, little guy. You cold?"

Alf watched the door. He'd drawn the same conclusion as Rhian, but he'd been holding out hope someone else would get up and deal with it.
Blessed whiskers, someone did.

He immediately frowned when the door opened. Alf had been raised by cats. From about nine years old to thirty they were the only kind of face he knew. He couldn't tell a pair of humans apart, but he could have picked a tabby out of a crowd of ten. Litten gave him a severe case of uncanny valley.
It was a cat, but it wasn't a cat.

He moved his bare feet to the second rung of his stool and scowled some.
Freaky faced little gremlin gave him the heeby jeebies.

Litten looked at Rhian with a tilted head, a clear sign of confusion. Then he sneezed, and some smoke came out of his nose. "Litten." 'Ok, you are weird, human. Don't you know your talking to a Fire-type Pokemon?' ("= Poke speech. '= What the Poke speech means.)

A commonality! Something similar in their stories! Finally! Her eyes practically glittered with happiness at the relief that she wasn't the only one. "That's what happened to me too. I was out on Border Patrol, and this fogged rolled in and suddenly I was stepping on crunching snow. I saw this tavern and went to investigate and now I'm here." She tapped her lips with her fingers pondering if that had something to do with anything. Perhaps it was just a coincidence. "The trees aren't even the same." She paused for a moment, no she had definitely heard a thump at the door and she frowned a bit. a frown that looked very odd on her face as if it was a foreign concept to her.

"You know I'm quite sure I heard something..." She mentioned fiddling with her hair even more. She started trying to compare the reds in her hair to his eyes. It was a habit she picked up ever since she started knitting. She liked figuring out what colors and things and designs people were made of. It was a harmless categorical hobby. She watched the woman approach the door and was secretly glad she didn't have to leave the warm spot by the fire. "Yes this place is cozy, very cozy at the least." She replied.

"Ohmygod. You're so cute," Rhian whispered, seemingly undeterred by the sudden burst of smoke. "Litten?" she repeated, inching her hand closer in hopes of petting his head, "Is that, like... your name?

"Litten!" 'Back off, human!' Litten said as he took a step back, "Litten!" 'Or I'll show you not to try to pet me!' Then he launched a Ember attack to the left as a warning. "Litten!" 'I'm not afraid to do it!'

Rhian jumped at the sudden burst of flames, smile quickly faltering into half a scowl. Not cool. She had half a mind to slam the door on the little thing, but the moment her hand wrapped around the knob she knew she couldn't do it. "Fine," she sighed, defeatedly, leaving the door cracked open, "Stay out there or come in. I don't care." With one last look of longing at the soft looking red and black fur of little Litten, she turned to head towards the bar, small assortment of insects still trailing behind her like frantic ducklings.

"I needed a drink anyway," she muttered under her breath, though the statement was sorely lacking her usual contemptuous tone. Approaching the bar, she gave its only other occupant a cursory glance from top to bottom, quickly noting his lack of shoes, and claimed a seat two stools away. "You guys serve cocktails?" she asked the bartender, skeptically eyeing the old-fashioned beer mugs and taps behind the counter. The tavern had seemed endearing at first, but she was beginning to fear this place was a bit too authentic for her to handle.

How does that human not know not to try to pet a Pokemon that doesn't trust you yet? Litten thought. Then he push the door slightly, just enough to fit through. Litten sat right next to the door on the right of it.

Alf was just the sort of person who sat at the bar and didn't order food or a drink. His solitary function was to imbitter the space he occupied. He'd been having a rough day, and by the time Rhian sat down he had also decided he'd reached his daily qouta of human interaction. He got up, fixing his package under arm and carefully put his feet on the floor. One of them, like his nose, was gnawed up to all hell.

When he opened the tavern door, he made walking barefoot out into the snow look offensively casual. Really! Who did that? He was worse than guys who spent winter in tshirts and shorts. He even snubbed the path and wandered off into the trees. He never did look back.
((Hopping over to another Rp for a while. Thanks for the game!))

For all her troubles, Rhian was ultimately given a cup of mead. It was definitely no fruity cocktail. Reluctantly sliding her last crumpled ten across the counter, Rhian noticed the barefoot barbarian leave his seat.

Good. It was probably about time she fed the little idiot. Rhian shifted the small, boxy looking messenger bag from her hip to her lap and released a rather large, husky looking beetle onto the counter. A Japanese Rhino Beetle, to be precise. If beetles could cry, this one surely would have. She'd definitely left him in there a bit too long. Sitting in a tavern for two hours trying not to look like more of a freak than her living shoe adornments were affording her had thrown the schedule way off course. But then, was it really her fault she'd ended up here in the first place? How often do random rifts in time and space swallow you up while you're out for a walk?

"Alright," Rhian sighed irritably, searching through the bag's outer pocket, "Don't make that face. I've got your jelly right--" Gone. He was gone. Tiny vile of jelly in hand, Rhian used her ability to call him, but in vain. She could sense it. He was stuck somewhere. Stuck-- there! The stranger's back disappeared out the tavern with that little shit in tow. His prickly legs were tangled in the fabric of the man's shirt. With a look of horror, Rhian jumped from the stool and ran after him.
((Also hopping to another RP for now. Peace!))

(Welp. I'll just keep watching Youtube for that time then.) Litten looked around the tavern. "Litten." 'I wonder what this place is.' Then he started grooming his fur.

Seeing the small cat like creature by the door, Gabriel chose to leave his spot and approach it. He would crouch in front of Litten, yet made no attempt to touch him. Be of something other then human, and partly animal, himself, he knew bitter then to try and touch an animal he'd never met before.

"Hey there, little guy, are you lost or something?"

"Litten," 'No, I am not lost. Well, maybe I am. Wait, why am I talking to you? I doubt you can understand me. The other human didn't,' Litten said. Then he looked off to the left. Then Litten looked back at Gabriel. "Lit." 'Wait, can you understand me?'

Volker was growing tired of walking in this new place. He'd laugh if he saw a tavern lurking around in a town and, well, he saw one up ahead but couldn't laugh of course. 'Maybe I should head in and rest for a while...' he thought. Considering it would take too long to get to his actual destination, he decided to head towards it.

Obviously, Gabriel couldn't understand the small creature. Language wise aways. He would understand the emotion in the creatures voice, though.

"I'm guessing that's a yes, then."

He would say, standing straight to look out the door. Not being able to understand him would prove to be difficult if the wolf ended up helping he cat-like creature. Though he couldn't let the creature stay lost.

"Litten." 'I don't know if I'm lost, it's pretty cofusing." Litten said. Then he started grooming his fur again. Every once in a while, he looked at the fire.

The last few hours have been such a blur. Infact, blurry enough to the point this inexperienced traveller couldn’t tell anymore if hours, minutes or actual days have been passing by. Irregardless of the time gone by, he is still standing upright despite this snowy weather, a feat even this humble man is prepared to give himself credit for. It doesn’t matter how used he is to cold light and freezing air; A regular bloke simply does not get comfortable in blizzards of whatever intensity.

The tavern has been noticed fairly belatedly despite close proximity - and especially once its looming outline -has- been spotted through the haze of thick snowflakes, the last few metres have been closed in full autopilot. It doesn’t matter if it’s a private home anymore; Big building means warmth, shelter, food, means it completely overrides this man’s sense of manners if for a moment-

The door swings open wide with but a nudge—or at least so the guy thought, but cold-numbed limbs hardly allow self-perception of strength—and there he just, well, stands for a few. Stood straightened, motionless in the doorway, clad in a grey cloak with snowflakes caked to his boots. The hood is up, but his face is lifted quite enough to be visible, especially when a sign of life briefly returns to his youthful features, courtesy of the wall of warmth he just walked against. With a brief assessment, he decides it to be a tavern, which immediately clears his conscious of possibly having barged in on a private dwelling. Earth and Sky, has his streak of bad luck finally ended?

Gentler than when he opened it, the man closes the door behind him. He’ll mind his usual manners later after, for once, prioritising his own comfort, lest his fingers freeze off. He casts his eyes down to emphasise his unwillingness to intrude, carefully brushing past those who may stand between him and the fire further in. Stars, the fire - Never before did a blaze look so beautiful, welcoming and friendly!