RP:Blast From The Past... Ale Included

Synopsis: Lanara heads to Kelay Tavern and bumps into Orikahn and Hudson. The trio share a drink, have some playful banter, and reminisce about completely unrelated topics. Kahn is in Kelay to study the decaying forest to the north, Hudson is on a quest for cranberry juice, and Lana is practicing her hand at throwing darts. However, Kahn ends up drinking too much, Huds epicly fails and gets cranberry-apple juice with sugar, and Lana doesn't seem quite herself, but ends up exiting the tavern while she's still in a generally good mood.

Orikahn shoulders his way into the tavern, looking tussled and surly. The giant cat rattles as he walks, no doubt owing to the garland of sculls strung from his hip, and the floorboards creak beneath his feet, this time owing to his three hundred pounds of sheer, muscular bulk. His hooded face sweeps the tavern, looking for trouble, perhaps? Whether he finds any or not, the surly hunter wanders his way up to the bar and hops up onto a stool. Mesthak does not seem pleased to see him.

Lanara is seated atop the bar, long legs dangling beneath her as she readies another dart. A black cat is pawing at her leather pant leg, vying for the witch’s attention, and not gaining it, huffs and lies in a ball at her side. With a perfected flick of the wrist, the feathered end breezes through the air and lands dead-center at the target. A toothed grin sweeps across the brunette’s pretty face as she slips from the bar top and glances down at the feline. “Bulls-Eye, Taylor!” It’s at that precise moment that Orikahn takes a seat at the bar, a few feet to Lana’s right, and she gives him a small wave before dashing off to retrieve the dart. The two had met, extremely briefly, about two years ago, when she had first arrived in Frostmaw. Taylor, also had remember the man-kitty, and sits on his haunches, ears perked up, delighted to spy an old face.

Orikahn is blatantly ignored by the bartender, who washes cups less than an arm's length away from the feline, his dwarven eyes cast stubbornly downward at his glassware. Kahn tries his best to glare the bar service down, but, meeting no success he relents and spots Lanara instead. Something in the brunette's demeanor tickles the deep recesses of his feline brain. Had they met before? The loincloth clad cat stares from beneath his hood, glowing eyes (all three of them) narrow to suspicious slits, and he tries his best to place her. "You..." he growls in a tone perhaps a bit more predatory than he intends.

Lanara returns to the bar, dart held in her open palm, as though she intended to offer it to Orikahn. However, at his gruff greeting, she closes her fingertips and lowers her head, dart hidden from view for the moment. “Me…And Taylor!” Lana was unusually chipper today, perhaps more so than as of late. The reason could be that Kahn was furry. Lana was a sucker for animals, and often bonded more with the scaled, feathered, or furred beast, more so than the average inhabitants of the lands. People sucked. They had egos, vendettas, and always wanted something from her, and to be honest, the brunette was tired of drama. Pulling her long hair into a make-shift pony tail, she uses the dart to hold the locks in place, though a few strands manage to frame her face and escape their binding. Mesthak now raises his head, and manages to somehow avoid meeting the angry feline’s triple gaze, and instead nods to Lana, before sliding a whiskey her way. The audacity of the barkeep!

Orikahn tilts his head upward, looking down his feline muzzle at the witch, then her cat. "...and Taylor," he echoes after her, his deep basso rumbling through the tavern. Aha! The sight of the whisky has him perking up brightly. "One for me," Kahn demands, recognizing the scent. Mesthak makes no indication of having heard the hunter's order, but Kahn seems mollified for now. His attention returns to Lanara, to the dart in her hair, to her feline companion. "You're from Frostmaw, aren't you?" It's a blind guess, but the best he has. None of the other patrons seemed keen on waving to the ol' sourpuss, after all.

Lanara laughs and fixes her chocolate brown hues on the whiskey before her, which she sneakily pushes nearer to Kahn, should he partake of her untouched glass. The witch had given up drinking, ever since the bachelor party, at least. How long her sobriety would last was anyone’s guess, but for now, her attention is on the male with the string of skulls. “You don’t remember me?! Kahn. Right? I, uh…I never forget a name of an animal, um, I mean… A fine feline. Yup, that’s right. Especially a fine hunter as yourself. I believe we share a mutual friend, as well. Aira. She’s a doll… I am Lanara.” Lana tilts her head and aims to peer better into the emerald gaze of the feline, which was mostly covered beneath his hood. Taylor beams with pride as her name is mentioned, and slinks over to Kahn, aiming to nuzzle his hand.

Hudson is in Kelay on errands. Not all of them are his errands; mind you, he cohabitates with a woman so sometimes her errands get merged into his errands. For example: today he has bought himself new cleats (woooord), a new bat and glove (yeaaa), and he is just now making his last stop to buy cranberry juice which he is under strict instructions to ensure does NOT have sugar added. Said strict instructions were promptly forgotten upon receipt, which is why he's here and not... whatever establishment sells sugarless cranberry juice, frankly he doesn't know, his writer doesn't know, and on the whole men everywhere don't know. It's like the disappearance of Amelia Earhart's plane, this place. Anyway. He recognizes Lanara instantly, even though she's wearing substantially more clothes than the last time he saw her. "Hey!" he greets her warmly and approaches, moving his shopping bag to the other side of his body to hug her and impart the perfunctory kiss on the cheek that you bestow on female friends. She is speaking to a cat man. OK. "Excuse me for interrupting. Hudson," he says, offering the guy his hand. He waves at Mesthak, who appears busy but with some basic hand gestures assures Huds he'll be over in a second. "What's shaking?"

Orikahn is further shocked by the offer. Didn't she want her booze? If she had done something to it, he would have seen. Before Lanara can change her mind, the sabercat takes the shot and downs it. "Mm. Hah." He shudders; enjoying the burn, then snaps his eyes open, not having realized he closed them in the first place. "I am Kahn," he assures her, ignoring the 'animal' comment. She'd been nice enough to give away her whisky, after all. "Hmm. Aira?" The cat's head cocks curiously to the side at the mention of his fellow hunter. "You're *friends* with Aira." This Lanara is a very unlikely character indeed. "Well, Lanara, you have strange taste in friends," he returns Taylor's nuzzling with a simple pat on the cat's head, acknowledging one greeting with another. There's a clatter as Mesthak slides Kahn his second shot. "Aira's not been herself lately. I'm sure you've noticed." snaps his attention to Hudson when addressed, and the hair on the nape of his neck stands briefly on end. The massive cat's eyes snap down to Hudson's hand and, reluctantly, Kahn grasps it in his own broad, pawlike mitt. "Kahn," the sabertoothed feline sizes the fellow up, eyeing him like a potential competitor.

Lanara keeps an eye on the interactions between the two felines, and offers her cheek to Hudson, while reaching up to ruffle his hair. As the obligatory hug ensues, she responds to Kahn, bemused at his expression when claiming she is a ‘friend’ of the moody blonde. “Yes… Aira and I are quite close. She healed me a few months ago, after I had encountered a dragon. She’s a bit rough around the edges, but I think it’s to protect the hurt inside, at times.” Lana then turns her gaze to Hudson. The witch and the rugby man went way back, from sharing drinks with a pig chaperone, to his bachelor party. However, upon hearing him inquire ‘what’s shaking’ she swallows hard and her cheeks take on a hint of a rose hue. Visions of lace, whipped cream, and exotic dancing… Oh dear. She really did take on the stripper gig a few weeks ago, didn’t she? A job that she was never even reimbursed for? The rosy cheeks turn crimson as anger replaces her shameless sinning, and she purses her lips, as though she just tasted a sour grape. “Linn. He is so dead. That night was just so… Wow. Those were –genuine- Kreekitaka stilettos!” Not wanting to divulge too much, as likely patrons were all too eager to eavesdrop, she shakes her head and falls silent.

Hudson probably smells like wet dog to Orikahn, or whatever it is werewolves smell like to cat dudes. Undoubtedly he does not smell like his aftershave/AXE, despite his best efforts, that delightful aroma is only effective on human women. (And lo, how effective it is....! Alvina has never complained... to his face!) In any event, loljokes aside, Huds is no stranger to the look he's getting from Orikahn, and he shows the cat man his teeth in a cocky grin before turning his attention back to Lanara, who is apparently now bubbling over with embarrassment. He had intended the double entendre, and he briefly throws an arm around her, as if to console her. Also to wind up Orikahn a bit, because that's the tone now, and Huds assumes, maybe rightly, maybe wrongly, that the cat man is trying to get with Lanara. "I'll buy you new shoes," he tells Lanara in a tone that matches. Mesthak, having served them their drinks, is ready to take Hudson's order, so Huds excuses himself for a moment to have a side bar with the barkeep. Can he get a gallon of cranberry juice? What does he mean, white or red, he didn't know it came in two flavors. Are they both cranberry juice? Is one better tasting? There is such a thing as cranapple, which sounds even better. “Yes, a gallon of cranapple, that's fine. Also, a beer, the seasonal pumpkin one if you've got it mate.”

Orikahn releases Hudson's hand to shell out a bit of coin and accept his shot, downing it in a single gulp. The other two are more socially adept than the feline, this wet-dog fellow and the witch who knows Aira. Kahn's jaw tightens, and he eyes Taylor again, seeing if he can read what the other feline thinks of all this. Linn? Kreekitaka? These are all familiar names. Who were these two? "Dragons are a very ambitious quarry," he notes. "Did Aira say anything about her own experience with the nasty serpents?" There's a thick odor of liquor on Kahn's breath already, meaning there's a good chance he'd already been drinking when he'd walked in.

Lanara quirks a brow as Hudson slips an arm about her, and notices both of the shifts of demeanor in the males. Was this a territory battle of some sort? If any yellow streams emerged from the rugby player or the feline, Lana was going to deliver to pull that dart from her makeshift pony-tail and ram it into the jugular of the urinating offender. However, the moment is short-lived, as Hudson retracts his arm from her slender form and places an order, in private. What the hell was he whispering to Mesthak? Narrowing her eyes on the bartender and her friend, she bites the inside of her cheek to bite back a chuckle as the keep returns with a gallon of what looks like cranberry juice. Lana would love to tease Huds, however, she finds herself answering Kahn’s inquiry. “Aira didn’t mention the serpents, no… I haven’t seen her in a few months, to be honest. I was… Um… Someone else. It’s a long story…”

Hudson realizes, when he rejoins the pair, cranapple juice secured in the bag, pumpkin ale in hand - may gods bless seasonal ales, they're the best - that an actual cat is straight chilling here. She does not want to be petted by him. He tries, to no avail. "I have a cat at home and she's super possessive so I shouldn't be petting you anyway," he says to the creature before turning his attention back to Lanara and Orikahn. He takes a swig from his beer, tuning into the conversation right about the time the cat man says something about a woman having an experience with 'the nasty serpents...?' He resists the urge to side-eye strongly, fails, and then clears his throat to disguise a chuckle. It's maybe 10% obvious. "Sorry. Just. The 'nasty serpents'? Yeah," he comments guiltily, throwing a look at Lanara, who probably knows a thing about the nasty serpents based on her recent life choices. !!!!!! "Anyway," quick segue! "Where are you working these days, Lanara?"

Orikahn sets out money for his next shot of whisky, not bothering to pace himself at all because he is quite large and quite intent on getting soused. The floor is slow and, seeing that Mesthak ignores Kahn YET AGAIN, Nancy sighs in exasperation, takes a break from wiping tables, and slips behind the bar to get Kahn his third shot. "No getting rowdy today," she wags a finger at him and cautiously refills his shot glass, "or you're out on your backside." Exactly how the bar plans to oust a three hundred pound cat, that's anyone's guess. Orikahn certainly doesn't seem bothered by the admonishment. Three shots down, and plenty to go. "Hmm?" He grunts, wiping his muzzle on his arm. "What's funny?" Beneath his hood, the cat's three glowing eyes flicker suspiciously between Lana and Huds. "Very nasty serpents," he goes on, completely missing the innuendo, "she nearly died." Poor, oblivious Kahn. Somehow, he can tell he's the butt of a joke. His fingers reach down and wrap around one of the many sculls strung at his hip, maybe for a bit of good juju.

Lanara eyes Taylor as the she aims to take a swipe at Huds’ hand, which he narrowly dodges just in the nick of time. The black cat narrows her vivid green eyes on the rugby player, hair raised from her neck down to her spine, before she leaps from the bartop and stalks off. “Well… At least Rolling Thunder loves you, Huds.” Lana quips, about to maybe inquire about the man’s nearing wedding day, when he has to go and ask the one question that was certain to put that flame back into her cheeks. “Mesthak. Drink. Now. I changed my mind.” The barkeep grins and winks at the witch before sliding an ale to her, which she slowly sips from, before meeting Hud’s gaze. “I’m unemployed. And just to clarify… That was the first and last time I worked as a stri- that uh… gig… I have held many job titles over the years. None of which I was attached to…. I do like to work with animals. So I may one day open up an animal sanctuary or something… Maybe…” Her voice trails off, as though being an entrepreneur was no big deal. Kahn seems to dislike being the butt of their shared joke, and the fact that Aira was nearly serpented to death, makes the witch aim to elbow Hudson. “So… Kahn… I didn’t think you left Frostmaw that often. Are you in Kelay on some sort of business?”

Hudson nods respectfully at the mention of Rolling Thunder, wild boar who has sleep apnea/snores. He lifts his eyebrows, the nonverbal Go On..., as Lanara struggles to explain her current employment status. "Well I hope you find something. It WAS good to see you the other day," he tells her, looking a bit cat in the creamer about the whole thing. He clears his throat again as Orikahn clarifies that the "nasty serpents" were "very nasty serpents." Maybe don't make any further dick jokes/provoke the man touching what appear to be skulls hanging off of his person. He hides his smile in a swig of his beer as Lanara elbows him. He wants to warn Lanara about what he read one time regarding certain anatomical features of male cats - she should know!! - but he needs to find the right moment. He waits for Orikahn to be distracted by alcohol to lean in and whisper to the witch: "Please don't sleep with this cat guy, I have a bad feeling." He composes his expression immediately after delivering this message, drinks his beer with absolute chill.

Orikahn gives the scull a squeeze, savoring the inaudible groan of cranial plates flexing under pressure, like some kind of headhunter stress ball. Placated, he releases a slow breath through his nose, just in time for Nancy to serve up his fourth (and hopefully final) shot. "Now you savor that one," she sees fit to admonish him again, "and at least let it hit you before you order another." Something sour in her expression suggests she knows Kahn's reckless love of firewater a little too well. Beneath his hood, keen feline ears twitch. Are they whispering now? Kahn hurries to swallow, but he's already missed whatever interaction may have transpired. His sociopathic paranoia grows. "Here for the woodland game," he mutters moodily, "and to look into the blight. The rotting forest." One by one, he begins cracking his knuckles, and Hudson can nearly *feel* the weight of his contemptuous stare. If Nancy hadn't warned him twice already...

Lanara takes another sip of that ale, dark eyes narrowing on Hudson as she lowers the glass with more force than she had intended. Amber liquid splashes against the bartop and Nancy huffs as she haughtily cleans up the mess, while Lana reaches up to pull that dart from her make-shift pony tail. The feathered weapon in hand, she gives a slight shake of her head and lets her long hair down, though looking pretty is the farthest thing from her mind. Twirling the dagger like a baton, her eyes flicked with mischief, the woman aims at Hudson, as though she were going to make him the intended dartboard. However, at the last moment she flicks her wrist to the right and the feathered tip brushes against the man’s shoulder, before flying through the room and striking a bulls-eye. A smirk splays across her full lips, as she shakes her head and responds, in haste. “Not really planning on sleeping with anyone tonight, Hudson. I’m not –that- kind of girl! Kahn is a… Acquaintance. You know I’m not seeing anyone.” Was Lana angry? Amused? It was hard to tell with the witch lately, as she had been rather unpredictable since losing her empathy. The struggle was real, in learning to face her own emotions, rather than rely on what she felt from others’ influences. But Hudson was her old drinking buddy, back when she heavily drank, which really wasn’t all that long ago to be honest… So seeing as he was one of her mere two male friends, he was likely in safe territory of not being used as a dartboard. The witch’s attention is stolen by Kahn, as he rubs and clenches his massive paws around the skull. “Mhm…” She murmurs, unsure how to respond to the feline, as he was clearly growing more hostile with every passing second. This was entirely Hudson’s fault. And so with that in mind, the witch rises from her stool, and slips a sweater over her form. Offering a brief apology to both men, she collects Taylor from the floor, and makes to depart. Kahn is given a wave, and Huds’ a quick ruffle of his hair, before she exits the tavern.

Hudson watches Orikahn suck down another shot and considers making a more overt heroic effort at rescuing Lanara. He gets a bad vibe off of this guy, his medically-suppressed-but-present werewolf senses are spoiling for a fight, probably for racist reasons (CATS DROOL, DOGS RULE), but all the same they seem like real reasons to him. Lana, meanwhile, apparently doesn't want to be rescued, is threatening him with a dart, and he doesn't stop drinking his beer to protest but rather waves frantically at her, with apparent success. He snorts at what she whispers back to him, and it goes up his nose, and burns like the dickens, he regrets everything. Also is cranapple juice sugar free? Had Alvina said something about sugar free? And that it couldn't be mixed with some other kind of juice? ...Why couldn't she get her own juice, if it's some kind of rare spawn juice, it shouldn't be delegated to him, that's what... He's formulating his defense for his own private argument with her for later, when she accuses him of Not Listening About The Cranberry Juice Or In General. Not listening to Lanara and Orikahn's strained conversation, though he is aware generally of the hostility from the cat. (Classic cat, being hostile, BEE TEE DUBS. They always start it.) He is thus surprised when Lanara announces she has to go. "Bye!" he calls out after her before facing Orikahn with no small amount of confusion. "I was rooting for you, man," he says, in the most pained effort to diffuse things.