RP:S1, E9 Lucky You

From HollowWiki

Summary: Larz and Lucky meet.

Gualon Grogshop

The locally famed rathskeller appears to have undergone recent renovations to bring it up to date with the city ordinances passed since its construction as one of the first buildings established in civilized New Gualon. The flautist no longer appears in employ and rumors as to his whereabouts run rampant. A hearty piano sits in his stead, built for durability over elegance. Roomy booths line the perimeter of the room for when the crowded bar is too raucous for more reserved patrons or those that desire a more clandestine rendezvous. The floor has recently been stained a deep walnut color, perhaps to counter the mild corrosive effects of fungus beer spilled one too many times. Grargh, the ever faithful barkeep of yesteryear and the years before that, presides over the bar proper, now fashioned in a large horseshoe shape, and made from the imported lumber that suggests a thriving commerce trade with other ports of call throughout the countryside. Indeed, much of the Grogshop's offerings reflect the international flavor of the bar itself. The beer selection includes Larketian to Venturillian brews, while liquor is imported from sources throughout the lands, so that only the finest are used in each cocktail concoction. The Grogshop pays homage to its roots and namesake in its famous grog the choice of many orcish inhabitants and only the heartiest humans with the strongest of constitutions.



Lucky sat at the curve of the horseshoe bar with a quarter gone pint of grog on front of her-- hardly gotten started with it. A mix of dirty looks and glances bordering on respect came from what native orcs populated the place that day, more of the latter from Rothkquins that remembered her. The stool fit her lengthy frame just fine where other chairs didn’t cut it, made for the heavier folk in those parts. At that moment she seems to be chatting up the bartender in conversational more than fluent orcish. Genial questions to anyone with an ear for the guttural tongue: what had she been up to since winning her freedom? Was that smith uncle of hers in debt to anyone? Who’d been winning at the arena lately? And so on with the current events. She rolled up her jacket sleeve, showing off her new scar, still a little pink from healing. There was a lot to catch up on in her short time away.


Largakh steps into the grog shop unimpressively and you might miss it if it weren't for the obnoxious bellowing greetings he was getting to which he only offered a nod. This soft leather jacket displays the Gualortan Tribe symbol that represents the fact he’s a part of the city guard here in Gualon. He’s short for an orc being only six foot seven and rather wiry too, long arms, long legs and a thin seeming frame. He didn’t even have to order his drink as it was waiting for him and he drank down the ale before a side eye glance was given to the newcomer and her scar. One orc came up to him and gave Larz a hearty pat on the back which would have knocked him off his stool if he were drunk, “Largakh no taller!” A loud guffaw, “when Largakh grow?!” Larz has the same answer every time with his crooked grin, “when Orthug grow brain!” His own harsh orc voice being dumbed down for the occasion offsets his pleasant features along with his tuscan yellow eyes and dark green skin. The other orc laughs again at Larz’s answer and goes back to his table before Larz goes back to keeping an eye on this strange newcomer.


Lucky might seem out of place, not a pinch of green on her and standing plenty short by the locals’ standards at. Stringy black hair dangling in her face, calluses running up her hands worse than a trades person with all ten fingers still intact. If it weren’t for the other scars--her pride and joy being the crooked white number running down her jaw from her right cheek--she might not even have earned slouching rights. It was home, though, as many less than great memories it had. The exchange has her peeking over her shoulder, both eyebrows going up at the guard. His tribe symbol, no different from the other off duty security in the place, caught her interest less than his skin and lack of bulk. “Everythin’ good on the streets, sir?” Lucky offered him a tilt of her chin and a friendly enough grin. No need to get cocky in someone else’s territory.


Largakh now aims his crooked grin toward the woman. It was odd, where she found Gualon a home, he found it a job and his home was Sage where his grandparents still live. His guard duties are more detective work than force, but push comes to shove - he can take a criminal down, “Larz no sir.” Those intelligent eyes possibly betraying his dumb act, “Just Larz” Oh! And to answer her question, “good streets.” The alcohol was warming his blood so he slipped his jacket off and set it on the bar counter, this revealed his odd skin condition. Most of his skin is a pine color of green while spots of prussian blue cut different blob-like shapes on his skin. It’s not the craziest thing people have seen, but some of the orcs point, gawk and speculate. Larz doesn’t care - it goes unnoticed by him as he orders another. This raised the barkeep’s brow - he usually doesn’t stay for more than one?


Lucky was one of the gawkers, jade gaze dropping to his arms for a sec and letting out a whistle before switching back up to someplace more polite. -Pretty pattern,- she says, switching to the orcish she knew, not as nicely accented as native speakers, but what human could hope to master that tongue with their jaw structure? -Good meeting you, Larz. Call me..- A quick switch to common. “Lucky.” It’s what she’d been handing out to people so far since she earned back the right to have a name of her own. She pulls out a little silver from her pocket, not jingling too much, and slides it toward Grargh. -Take that one off his tab. On me.-


Largakh seems amused by the woman’s assessment, he responds in orcish, probably about as fluent as her (which may clue her in that this was not his first language) -Orcs think the blue skin is a bad omen. The bad blood.- It may be a little obvious he’s half orc, -Good meeting you too,- “Lucky.” Grargh give a questionable look to Larz and Larz gave a shrug because if the lady wants to pay for his drinks then let her. Larz is more compact built, meaning he has muscle even if he looks scrawny. A glance over his shoulder to see who was entering just now and it happens to be a human woman with a drunken man’s arm slung around her shoulders and she was smiling until she glanced at Larz, her expression falters because Larz is usually out of the Grog Shop by this hour. Larz drinks his second ale down and stands up before slinging his jacket over his shoulder, -thanks for the drink. Stay out of trouble,- he gives lucky a nod before making his way out, but he could easily be followed out or stopped - if someone wished to.


Lucky , unfortunately, loved trouble. She’d sparred with enough half orcs to get a favorable impression--only a hand full, really. Chasing after him crossed her mind, seeing what she could start. But she still had most of her grog left and walking all day had her feet sore. Perhaps another time. Instead she offers him a mock salute, switching back to common with a teasing smirk. “No promises!” And with that she’d let him be on his way.