chat and a drink

The many towns and cities tucked in the crevices of the world, uncontrolled by any formal power. Some are friendly. Others, not so much.

chat and a drink

PostPosted by shuu » Tue May 03, 2016 11:22 am

A squirt of creamy brown washed down his tongue. Tsuk sipped his spike Vanilla Chai beverage gingerly; his hand gently and passively cradling the bright licorice red straw.

The room was lively; "Chat and a Drink" was the name of the establishment. Bar, restaurant, hotel, it catered to all it could out here. It's healthy stream of patrons have supplied the coin to keep many ventures running, and if was all well managed. If served a variety of drinks, carrying most staples of the shinobi world coupled with a nice list of specialties. The food followed a simple philosophy: Simple but good. Nothing fancy, but with the lack of distinction came a refinement. They may not have the fanciest of soups, but they do what they can to make sure their coconut soups are some of the best you will ever have.

Live music was a regular occurrence-- but not on this night. Still, anyone who could survive the crowd was encouraged to pick up their own instruments and play joyfully.

Rounded out perfectly, they had simple rooms available for rent. Furnished with a bed and a table, they didn't have room for much else to be honest. But DAMN was it a comfortable bed. A high price on the rooms kept wandering drunks and vagrants from roosting; only very well prepared and fortunate travelers actually stayed the night. Well, many stayed the night; the bar never closed.

Sitting at near 8'o clock on the circular drinking bar, he sat unapproached by all but the barkeep. A charming young lady, she was supported by a senior staff member who apparently was taking it easy tonight, letting her take the reins. His experience and history displayed proudly by an eyepatch, impressive mustache, and a patchwork of scars and marks across his flesh. But hell, he was still kind enough. His simple brown but respectful garb contrasted from Tsuk. Dressed in a ensemble of white jacket and blue pants, he kept his own flair. Brilliant grey wolf fur lined the back and shoulders of his flack jacket. A simple but thickly woven black shirt covered by silver netting hid underneath, briefly exposed on his torso. A crystalline translucent moon shaped pendant dangled from his neck in contrast to the black beneath.

Bright red hair pulled back into a messy tail, some bangs and side lengths hung independently.

Half closed green eyes stared absently at his drink.

A lively bustling of talk and silverware bounced around the room; it wasn't a jam-packed night, but it was about 75% capacity. And it was a large capacity.
ouch lol
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Re: chat and a drink

PostPosted by Tsuuki » Mon May 16, 2016 1:30 pm

A chorus of laughter briefly dominated the barroom’s lively ambience, the choir itself hidden within a tentacled white cloud through which only the lanterned lights of the establishment could be seen. This smoke that concealed an entire corner of the balcony tables wasn’t some jutsu—just a roost of Koumori, out celebrating any one of the 365 Koumori holidays of the year, and any experienced restaurateur knew they brought the “smoking section” with them. Although obnoxiously loud, habitual climbers of furniture and structure, and often carrying a few dozen flying rats in their clothing or hair—not to mention perpetually barefoot—they were often welcomed as auspicious patrons simply for their total lack of value or even concept for currency, which made them very generous tippers. It was not uncommon for other, non-bat-earred patrons to often be drawn into the chummy atmosphere, whether on friendly terms or not; and while the the Koumori were habitually well-meaning with just a minor tendency for playful rowdiness, it was only when forced on the defense did interior damage occur from their fierce wind-based techniques.

While having only begun that afternoon with a handful of the widely wandering wild-folk, the party’s growth had become exponential once word-by-bat had been spread that THE Koumori patriarch himself had blessed the group with his presence, accompanied by his twin daughters, now young women and happily reunited as a family at last: Tsuuki the Weightless, the Bat Sage and trinity saint of the flying fortress Neo-Kumogakure, possessor and pacifier of the great Rokubi demon; Koromi, the inventive technician-nin that revolutionized airborne puppetry; and Momona, master of culinary ninjutsu and the hardest working Koumori there ever was. Separated for years after the cataclysm of old Kumogakure, the father-daughters trio had been broken and later restored again through war, and together now traveled the ninja-lands to find and unite their scattered kin.

A suspenseful hush suddenly fell over the Koumori cloud, followed quickly by a tremendous uproar of equal parts triumph and disappointment. The clamor rattled on and mingled again with the room’s volume, and the loser of whatever wager had just been decided in that moment dropped from the second-story cloud and into an open spot in the crowd below, landing noiselessly and as naturally as if it was a single step. It was Tsuuki himself, his scruffy head an explosion of nappy pepper-colored dreads, interwoven with sacred strings and beaded talismans, and the trademark conical bat ears jutting out from the sides. His robust facial hair and tattooed skin could not hide the striking moon-like eyepatch he wore over his right side, and this eyepatch could not convince him to open his left eye, always shut relaxedly. Anyone that had heard of the bat sage knew his eyes were his last means of navigation, and despite all the noise and smells and every other sort of imaginable distraction to the senses one could conceive, the man managed to gracefully stumble all the way to the bar without touching a single other patron. It looked like a magnificent drunk ballet solo.

Tsuuki anchored himself by one elbow to the bar, in an open spot to the right of another gentleman who seemed to have a similar fashion taste. Tsuuki’s own jacket was dusky black and lined with raven feathers, its billows concealing his exposed but intricately tattooed chest and a heavy-woven dark gray kilt.

Barkeep! He called politely in a voice as smooth and smokey as fine whiskey. We need another, oh— he whispered a hasty count on his rodent-like fingers, and glancing to the cloud he came from fumbled with a few more numbers before turning back to the young lady with a fuzzy smile. —better make it another keg, thank you miss. A small heap of high-valued coins came ringing out of his sleeve onto the bar, catching the attention of the observing bartender in brown who hurried off to fetch the tall order. Tsuuki looked uncertain at the pile, shaking his sleeve until one more insignificantly was added to the shiny stock. I believe this’ll cover it… and if there’s any left, fill up another for this man here, he said gesturing to Tsuk, turning his head slightly to show his moon-encrusted eyepatch to the stranger. I like his necklace! he said cheerfully.

"What's the point in joining if...


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...we have Mr. Half-Baked & Mr. Happy-Hour teaming up too?"
~ Ero-Kami

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