RP:Pey Day
Summary: It's a slow day at the Kelay tavern until Pey shows up with an old contract and a few companions. Mayhem ensues, and it is quickly evident that no one in the tavern is safe from the mischief of imps.
Kelay Tavern
Orikahn action : is playing a game of daggers with another bar patron--it’s a rather rowdier variant of darts and, in Kahn’s opinion, a good deal more fun than darts too. “Hah!” The sabercat barks a laugh. “That’s four points for me.” His opponent, a brawny kelay lass, keeps tally on the tavern board. “Three points, you big galoot,” she reminds him as she writes, “but you’re learning.” It’s a quiet Monday. Mesthak is caught up on his washing, and he watches the game with chin in hand. Nancy has lowered one of the candelabras to change the candles. A handful of regulars sit quietly playing checkers or watching the game of daggers. Even for being the heart of this land of adventure, the Kelay Tavern still has its quiet moments.
Zahrani quietly sits at the bar, enjoying her usual cup of herbal tea, plus a plate containing some blue-rare venison, the surface briefly seared for flavor and cut up sashimi-style. The panther is in her more catlike form, popping a piece of venison into her sharp-toothed maw before turning to watch the game of daggers being played by Kahn and an unknown opponent. It had been some time since she had last seen the male feline. The paladin herself had just come to the tavern after training and research.
Magik hums quietly to himself as he sits in his usual spot at the bar, closest to the door, and appears to jot a couple notes down on a small piece of parchment infront of him. He turns his head to the side to quickly scan over the tavern. Black, flamed filled eyes study Orikahn for a brief moment before the Lyastri returns his attention to the writings before him.
Meri doesn't often visit Kelay Tavern, but it has been a long few days and the tattooed blonde was hoping that she could find a hangout spot where she might not run into some of the more familiar faces in her life. Boy was she mistaken. Why is it so busy here today? Orikahn was here playng daggers. Zahrani was present. Meri's blue eyed gaze lingers on Magik, an individual that she is not sure that she has formally met yet...but she does not waltz up to make any introductions. Instead the psion decides to try and interrupt a game of daggers. When Orikahn or the bar patron he is playing with takes their next shot? Well that dagger only gets half-way to it's target before it's frozen in midair. No smirk from Meri, her poker face game is strong, she does find her way to the bar where she mulls over what to drink.
Aira sits at a table nearby the game of daggers, watching with mild interest as the pair go at it. She nurses an ale which remains in her grip as she lounges in a chair, her feet kicked up on a vacant one across the way. She takes a sip of her beer, wiping the foam from her upper lip with the back of her hand as she rolls her eyes at the sabercat celebrates his most recent score. When the vixen spies Meri enter the establishment she offers the blonde a rare smile and a casual wave.
Orikahn is about to throw a dagger when he feels his whiskers twitch. The fur down his neck prickles. Through the tavern doors flies a three-tailed imp, blue from head to toe and floating on a stubby pair vestigial wings. His beady eyes dart rapidly to and fro. Those who have dealt with the imp will recognize him immediately as Pey. In his hands, Pey carries a heavy purse; this he drops on the counter with a jingling crash. “Fee for rent. I pay gold, mine ‘till sunset, the whole place.” Mesthak startles. “Ho! Hey, evening Pey. We don’t,” he hesitates and sizes the imp up, “don’t rent out, certainly not without prior notice.” Pey snaps his fingers and a parchment unfurls into being, yellow with age. “Prior notice! Stinky mortals, always forgetting. Pey has a reservation, for today, for the family reunion.” Mesthak snatches and reads the parchment in disbelief. “This was signed over 200 years ago, at least four owners ago. I can’t honor this, you should know beTHBBBBTHT!” At the snap of Pey’s fingers, Mesthak’s face turns into a butt. A fine dwarven rump sits atop the bartender’s beard, his face replaced entirely by those cheeks that seldom see the light of day. “Buttface! A deal’s a deal!” The imp proclaims. “This family reunion starts now!” Through the doors, down the chimney, even up through the drains come imp after imp in a growing, cackling horde. “Now see here!” Nancy picks up a broom to swat them out. “No you see here, Buttface!” Pey shouts her down and snaps his fingers. Nancy’s face disappears with a flash; in it’s place is a full moon, and not the astronomical kind. Despite their disfigured appearances, the bartender and barmaid do their best to fend off the growing throng of imps, but it is no use. The tavern is crawling with the little blue devils. They throw lit candles. They dance in the pies. They guzzle beer from the taps and inflate like balloons, only to rocket off in a spray of foam, bouncing from wall to wall to wall. They pick the guests up by the ears, and when the guests scream for the imps to stop? “Buttface! Buttface! Buttface!” No one in the tavern is safe, neither from the swarm of imps nor from Pey’s curse!
A horrible rukus erupts in the center of Kelay. There is shrieking, cackling, and above it all, shrill cries of “Buttface! Buttface! Buttface!”
Zahranibuttface watches the exchange between Mesthak and Pey. She raises a brow, before her eyes widen at the owner's sudden craniorectal inversion by the imp. She leaps to her feet at the sound of the imps flying in from everywhere. Cyan gaze darts from Orikahn, to Aira, then Meri, the imps, tracking one of them right as it lands on her meal. "Oh no you-" And before she can finish, with a ~SWHOOMP~ sound, her face has met the same fate as Mesthaks. It is now a fuzzy butt. Currently eyeless, noseless, and mouthless, the feline is very much not amused. Fortunately, she still seems to have her ears. With a cackle, the imp that was feasting on her venison tries to taunt her up close. Not a good move. With a flick of her wrist, she catches the winged rat by his tail, channeling a jolt of divine energy through his small struggling form. With an inane babbling sound and a ~poof~, the imp is gone. Another one takes notice, diving for the paladin's actual butt, before it gets whipped away by her tail, as if she were swatting a fly. Two more join the fray with the cat, trying to pull at her ears. If she currently had a mouth, she'd be growling. Raising both hands, she tries unsuccessfully to catch the creatures. They fly away, before one tries to aim for her front, and the other comes in from behind. Rani ducks, and the two collide midair. She keeps them both tightly gripped in one hand while she listens for any others that might be trying their luck.
Magikbuttface quickly snatches an imp by the throat as it attempts to steal his quill as it zips by. He tosses it out of the door then BAM, buttface. The vampire growls, farts rather, out of his buttface. As the imps quickly multiply and start causing a ruckus, Magik has had enough already. He swivels in his stool and farts out a few quiet words to himself, sounded a little wet honestly. The temperature of the tavern seems to drop dramatically as fiery imp clones generate out of nowhere, quickly going to war with Pey's family to try to restore some order to the room. Some imps get burned to a crisp, some are forced through the tavern windows and others have a good showdown, causing even more of a mess than when the imps arrived. Meanwhile, Magikbuttface is using his keen sense of hearing, nocking arrows and firing them from his long bow, hoping to staple as many as possible to the tavern walls. No one is perfect though. The elven vampire caught one right infront of poor Mesthak. Not only is he a buttface as well, but he now has an imp attached to his dwarven frame.
Meributtface :: So this is happening. Meri barely got a chance to smile back to Aira before buttfacegate began. Now. Meri has done quite a bit of experimenting with a variety of substances in her years, and never not once has she experienced a trip this bad. Honestly, a bad trip would be preferably right now. If only because...This buttface situation is a real thing, at least if she were on a bad one, well that would all be in her mind. This is not what Meri needed. She needed a drink, that's what she needed. Pey has just managed to create one more stressful situation for Meri to try and deal with, and honestly this one is quite pressing. She's not sure what her own buttface looks like, there is not much in the way of mirrors. Some of the buttfaces she is seeing are just not very cute (sorry guys) and this is very disconcerting to Meri. And enraging. It's usually better when the woman with the telekinetic abilities stays calm but ever since becoming a werewolf that has been exceptionally challenging to achieve. Her temper is not kept in this moment. They are quick, they are fast, they are darting around the room...and Meri doesn't need to move a muscle. The psion just imagines grabbing hold of one of those pesky little imp buggers and plucking it's wings off...and wouldn't you know it? It's like some unseen hand snatches one of them out of the air to do just that. A couple of the other imps notice this wing plucking adventure of the psion's and given their magical abilities, it does not take them long to figure out that Meri is the culprit. Revenge is sought in the form of hair pulling, dirty fighting that Meri has never taken kindly too. This only infuriates the woman more and the cycle begins again. Plenty of imps who don't need their wings...
Airabuttface buttface doesn't give much of a reaction when Pey first enters the establishment. Even as the imp and Mesthak bicker over a supposed contract from two centuries prior, she barely startles. However, when Pey uses his magic to turn the barkeep's face into a rear she drops the flagon of beer she had been holding to the ground, the glass shattering and the ale staining the ground. Who could blame her for such a reaction given the circumstances?! Nancy is the next person to be cursed with that ridiculous spell and soon the establishment is filling with imp after devilish imp. Aira is on her feet in an instant, knocking the chair she had been seated on over in the process as she instinctively reaches a hand over her shoulder to grasp an arrow as the other moves to tug the bow from her body. Alas, the huntress had been counting on a reprieve this evening and had unfortunately left her weapons at home. With no magic to speak of, she growls, looking around for an appropriate weapon when she is suddenly faceless, a pale moon in its wake as she is likewise struck with the curse. The vixen is ambushed by a pair of younger imps who each take one of her vulpine ears in their grubby hands and give a tug. Her arms begin to flail as Aira attempts to swat them away, but they only cackle at her demise, pulling even harder. Abandoning this tactic, she instead reaches out and her fingers, grasping the chair where her feet had been lounging. With a great heave (and what would have been a grunt if she had a mouth), the huntress swings the chair around, catching the two imps off guard and sending them careening into the wall. She holds the piece of furniture up near her ear as one might hold a bat, ready for the next wave of impish creatures to swarm her way.
Orikahnbuttface double takes. One imp in the tavern is odd enough. When they begin coming out of the woodwork, it’s a downright crisis. “Yah, hey, graaaah!” The cat swats and snarls and several of them fly past is face to tug at his ears and whiskers. In anger, he manages to catch one in his claws, but before he can bite it in half--”Buttface!” Kahn’s cheeks clamp harmlessly down on the imps body. His cheeks clamp down!? Alas, poor kahn’s distinctive sabercat maw is nothing now but a fuzzy, stripey rump. By impish magic, whiskers still stick out the sides, and the imp in his claws gives them a painful tug. “HBBHTH!” Orikahn-buttface shouts in pain, shock, disbelief, and indignation all at once. His fingers touch his face to confirm the horrible reality. “PTHBHB! THBBBTH!” With a war yell, the cat takes his gaming daggers and throws the whole handfull at a passing imp. “Hot potato!” It cries, and redirects the trio of daggers, sending them flying for another nearby imp. “Hot potato!” The next imp cries in turn, and so the game begins, sending Kahn’s deadly volley bouncing through the tavern like a pinball from imp to imp to imp. “Hot potato!” “Hot potato!” “Hot potato!” The blades narrowly miss a panoply of flesh and fragiles before finally “Hot potato!” pinning a drunken guest to the wall by the wool of his coat sleeves. Meanwhile, Kahn growls and leaps onto a table. If he can’t bite the imps in half, he’ll have to resort to other means. Taking a bird net from his bag, he weighs it, swings it once, twice, thrice, and casts! “Aiee! Hahahaha! Oh no!” Four captured imps giggle and buzz about the net as Kahn hurries to cinch it shut. “THBBHHBBHT!” Kahn roars into the net, but the imps only laugh all the louder, mocking him with fart noises. Their laughter turns to cries of pain and objection as Kahn begins slamming the net against the table. “Ow! Hey! Stop! Ow! THBBT!” The violent banging knocks a bona fide fart out of one of the imps, and the pain is forgotten as the delinquent quartet resume laughing at Kahn’s misfortune, even despite their own.
Zahranibuttface's ears move every which way, taking in the mayhem in the tavern. She feels another imp trying to pry her vice-like grip off that she held on two of its cousins. ~ZAP!~ It gets sent bouncing off a chair upon receipt of a small jolt of divine aura. The paladin does her best to remain calm, even though the creeping thought of ~How the hell am I supposed to change my face back?~ lingers in her mind. Her calm demeanor doesn't seem to make her as much fun to play with to the imps. To the two in her hand, she points to them, then back at her face. They just giggle and laugh at her attempt at communication, before making a ~gagh~ing noise as she closes her hand tighter around them. The panther was too distracted to hear the imp above, the creature taking an ale bottle from a nearby shelf and dropping it on the cat's head. She stumbles, dropping the other two imps. Her claws extend, digging into the floor in frustration and also one of the imps. It yelps at being pierced by the paladin's claws, before disappearing.
Meributtface wants to bite the imps too, Kahn. She does. It's taking much, much restraint for the werewolf to maintain her current shape, because she can't bite the imp. Also, she will probably want to bite everyone else in the room while she tries to bite the imps. It would be some fairly indiscriminate biting....and well, Cenril already has a claim on the scandal of spreading lycanthropy. Sometime amidst all of the chaos, Meri tries to make her way over to Aira so that she can assist the vixen in taking out the dang imps yanking on her ears. Also somewhere in all of this madness, Meri finds the time to cheer Kahn on with his imp slamming antics. If they took them all out, they could have their faces back, right? That was pretty much Meri's top concern. The woman freezes in horror as another thought occurs to her. What if they kill them all and get stuck with these buttfaces?
Airabuttface is ready to take on the next set of imps who careen in her direction, adjusting her stance to make for a better attack; however, just as she moves to swing the chair in their direction, another imp grabs it from behind, unrelenting in his grasp. The huntress attempts to yank it free using her entire body strength to do it, and so distracted is she that she doesn't notice the previous two she had been aiming at creeping up behind her. Despite Meri's attempt to make her way towards the huntress, they grab Aira by her fluffy tail and immediately zoom towards the ceiling, causing her to release her weapon and scream--only without a mouth it merely sounds as if she were blowing raspberries. Despite her attempts to wrench herself free from their grasp, the imps do not release her, spinning the vixen continuously in an attempt to dizzy her. When the resultant vertigo ensues and her fight lessens, they manage to hook the back of her leather belt around the arm of a candelabra before darting away and laughing maniacally. This leaves poor Aira swinging precariously from the ceiling, unable to quell the flurry of expletives that leave her nonexistent lips.
Orikahnbuttface has taken to catching imps in one hand and beating them over the head with the other. For all the punishment they’re getting, the imps seem to be having as much fun as when they started. Pey is doubled over and somersaulting on the bar with laughter, so breathless that he can scarcely say “buttface” anymore. “Heheheee! HAA. Ho wow.” He wipes fat blue tears from his eyes and flicks them away. “This is the best family reunion EVER.” He proudly proclaims. Just then, he gets hit flat by a skillet, courtesy of nancy. He lays like a dead frog for a moment before springing back to his vital self. “Alrigth, alright,” he rubs a fresh bump on his head. “Buttface Schmuttface, have your RIGHTface.” He snaps his fingers, and as quickly as it began, the buttface curse ends. In a deep blue torrent of wings and laughter, the imps spiral up and out the chimney. Somehow, in their absence, the evidence of mayhem is gone. Broken bottles are mended, smashed pies are made whole, and even the poor sore ears of the patrons are neither red nor swollen. “BRAAAAAAH!” Orikahn’s proper roar returns, and he slams two empty fists down on an empty table. He blinks, looks around, snorts in rage, and straightens his cloak. Did anyone see his buttface? Hopefully so. His butt is en point. Reflecting on this, he flexes it beneath his loincloth.
Meri scrams with a quickness before she loses her rightface again. #everyoneforthemselves.
Zahrani || The light of the tavern floods back into the panther's vision, her eyes wide with mild frustration at that entire ordeal. She reaches up to touch her regular face, her fingers enclosing around her muzzle while she inhales and exhales slowly. That was not a pleasant experience. She looks around at the tavern, seeing that it appeared as though nothing had happened. Her cyan eyes turn to meet Orikahn's, the panther glancing down right as the male flexes his buttcheeks. The female feline grins, unable to contain her amusement, before taking a seat and surveying the rest of the tavern.
Aira blinks as the mayhem dissipates just as quickly as it started. Nothing appears to be broken, all food and drink restored, and best of all, their faces are back to normal. She barely has time to look for Meri when the psion is out the door. The vixen, of course, runs her hands over her face to make sure everything seems to be in order. It is only then that she realizes she is still dangling from the candelabra on the ceiling. Scowl back in its proper place, the huntress glares down at her flexing mate and folds her arms across her chest. "Um, a little help here!" She was never leaving Frostmaw again.
Epilogue
Orikahn rubs his own face and watches and many of the patrons flee, perhaps suddenly aware of how precious ordinary life is and no longer in need of liquid escapism. While Mesthak and Nancy take inventory and make sure nothing was lost in earnest, Orikahn hurries over to the candelabra chain. "Say, lend us a hand would you?" He taps Zahrani's shoulder as he hurries past to start messing with the winch. He doesn't want to let poor Aira down *too* suddenly.
Zahrani quickly gets up at Kahn's request to help with Aira, the feline positioning a table below the vixen. The paladin is then on the table, her dreadlocked head just below Aira as she calls to the other feline, "Ready!" Rani reaches up towards Aira, preparing to help keep her steady and/or catch her should the need arise.
Aira continues to scowl down at the remaining patrons. The huntress is not a woman who is amused in the best circumstances and after tonight's antics, she's certainly not happy. She watches as Rani pulls a table over and climbs atop to help ease her done as Kahn works the change. The vixen reaches out to the panther to help keep her steady, and offers a half smile. "Good to see you again. Although I wish it were under better circumstances."
Orikahn finds the winch release, and he pops it free. The candelabra gives a sudden drop before Kahn manages to catch the chain. Now that the situation is a little more firmly under control, Kahn let's the vixen down slowly until Zahrani can get a good hold of her. Once the vixen's free, he'll hoist it back up. There are many things that run through Kahn's mind, but he doesn't say anything. What do you say after your face was a butt? He silently grabs his beer, walks to the table, and takes a seat. He looks thoughtful and uncertain. He won't be the one to open discussion, not tonight.
Zahrani carefully lowers Aira down so she could stand on the table. The panther is a strong one, and she shows little to no sign of strain when catching the vixen. In response to the other woman's sentiment, Rani offers a warm smile and says, "The feeling is mutual." before hopping off the table and grabbing her cup and plate from the bar. She casually walks up to Orikahn where he sits, asking, "Mind if I join?" Her plate is still largely untouched, a single layer of venison morsels still decorating it. She would no doubt share a few with Aira and Kahn, should they be interested.
Aira quickly undoes her belt once her feet are planted on the tabletop, easily sliding the leather out from the grip of the candelabra before refastening it around her waist. She wastes no time hopping down and immediately heading towards the bar. Without waiting for Mesthak or Nancy, the vixen moves behind the counter, grabs a bottle of dark liquor and three glasses, and carries them over to the table where Kahn and now Rani sit (but not before dropping considerable coin to pay for the drink). Aira throws herself down in a vacant chair and pours out the two glasses and raises her brows in the panther's direction, silently asking if she wants to partake as well. She sips the whiskey for a moment, relishing in the pleasant burn, before releasing a heavy sigh. "Are we going to just pretend that didn't happen?" she asks to no one in particular.
Orikahn looks up to Rani and Aira. At first, he offers no reply, instead contenting himself to pick a sample off the jaguar's venison platter. He chews thoughtfully. "I just wanted to play daggers." His opponent has long vanished. "I wanted to throw daggers and stuff and drink, you know?" He makes a throwing motion. "Whhhss, thock. Like that."
Zahrani takes a seat across from Kahn, setting the plate down in the middle of the table. She nods to Aira, accepting the third shot of dark liquor and placing it next to her mug. Her ears turn toward Kahn as he speaks what's on his mind. The paladin nods, checking the other feline's body language for signs of distress or trauma. Cats are notorious about hiding what ails them; sometimes it takes another cat to notice the signs. Rani takes another sip of her tea, before saying, "I'm here if either of you want to talk. That was...not fun or pleasant." She takes a sip of the shot that Aira had given her, her whiskers twitching slightly at the stout smell.
Aira pours out a glass of whiskey for Zahrani before reaching over to give Orikahn's arm an affectionate pat. She had been expecting a relaxing evening as well. "You were doing so well, too," she says in what she hopes is a placating tone. The huntress falls silent then, allowing the panther to offer her ear if either of them needed to talk about what happened. In response, Aira tilts her head back and drinks the entirety of her glass in one shot. Wincing, she reaches for the bottle to pour a second. "I plan on drinking until I can't remember this ever happened."
Orikahn takes a long pull from his glass, nearly draining it. His whiskers swish back and forth. The *should* be sore after all the abuse they've taken. He supposes he should be grateful they aren't. "No," he agrees with Zahrani, shaking his head. "And yes," he agrees with Aira, nodding his assent. A shellshocked Nancy comes by to check on their drinks. Kahn finishes his glass and sets it on her tray. "Another." He holds his hand yeigh high off the table. "Tall one." Nancy knows exactly what he means. As far as Zahrani can tell, Kahn isn't too deeply shaken. Bewildered? Unsettled? Yes, but life is, after all, a bewildering an unsettling thing. "One thing's sure," he laughs, "those imps in Frostmaw are going to pay for their cousin's mischief."
Zahrani throws back her own shot, handing off the empty glass to Nancy when she collects the others. She asks for a refill of her mug with some calming chamomil tea. "I doubt there's enough liquor in the world to make me forget that," she says with a wry grin to Aira. She looks from the vixen to the male feline. In response to Kahn's mention of imps in Frostmaw, the cat responds, "That sounds good. I wish I could join you, but my work keeps me here and in Larket." The panther sips her tea, looking between the two of her companions with a serene smile.
Aira is content with the bottle she had snagged and seeing as Orikahn and Rani have ordered other things, opts to drink directly from the bottle. "You were the one who wanted to be social," she reminds the sabercat. She would have been content to remain in Frostmaw being her grumpy, introverted self. This evening's events weren't his fault, of course, but naturally, the vixen wasn't going to let him off the hook completely. "Next time, we stay at home," she adds before taking another swig. "How are things in Larket?" she inquires of Zahrani.
Orikahn has a lightbulb moment when Zahrani mentions not heading up around Frostmaw. "No wonder I haven't seen you," he wags a finger at her, "you never make it up north." The big cat looks over to Aira, and he points from the vixen to himself and back again. "We almost always stay home," he affirms, "and for good reason, it seems." How are things in Larket? It's a good question, and Zahrani can tell Kahn's as eager to know as Aira.
Zahrani takes a sip of her tea, offering a grin to Orikahn and saying, "So you did miss me..." Taking a deep breath, the panther turns her cyan gaze to Aira, before responding, "It's been...interesting. Working as a paladin of the God of Freedom when an absolute monarch rules. The rats aren't making it any easier; some have started swarming and attacking people. I've been showing folks living near the tenements how to reduce their chances of getting plague. Many of them venture outside the city, so the less it spreads, the better."
Aira cannot hide the wrinkling of her nose when Zahrani mentions the rats and the plague they carried. She breathes out a heavy sigh and turns a narrowed gaze in Orikhan's direction. "All the more reason to stay home." The huntress pushes herself to a stand and smiles down at Rani. "Well I'm sure everyone is thankful to have your help," she assures the panther genuinely before calling out to Mesthak. "Let me have a key to a room?" she yells out and holds out her hand and waiting for one to be tossed her way. When it eventually does sail across the room, Aira easily catches it and inclines her head in Kahn's direction. "On his tab, for making me leave the lodge today." The vixen takes her bottle of whiskey and pats Rani's shoulder awkwardly. "It was good seeing you, hopefully next time will be on better circumstances. But for now I have a date with this bottle and a lumpy bed." Aira turns to salute Kahn with her whiskey bottle before ambling towards the stairs.
Orikahn tries to imagine what that life would be like, being a paladin. It soon proves too much to imagine, and he shakes his head briskly to clear it. "Hm. Hmph. Enough trouble dealing with one queen and my own troubles," he growls, "without bringing strange gods into the mix." Fondly, the headhunter pats the skulls at his hip and stands. If Aira is heading to bed, so is he. "Good luck with your infestation, Zahrani. If the creatures prove too much for you, send word. Rats may be small, but I won'd consider them beneath me. Menacing little things." Kahn sneers in disdain at the thought of them. "And a lot of work making a meal of them." The key sings, and that's Kahn's cue. He finishes his beer and trust his tab to the morning.