An Auf walks into a Bar

#41

The olgog looked at the bartender for a moment, as if trying to place a face he couldn’t quite remember, but then appeared to give up. After all, the call of strong ale was a powerful motivator for some, but for him it was simply a way to escape his dismal life, which was currently in dire need of being escaped.

“I’ll take your strongest drink friend, and any news ye’ve heard as of late.”

Noticing the bartender’s slight discomfort at his manner, the olgog remembered his, and put his boots on the floor and then proceeded to lean over the table conspiratorially.

#42

Tlamak went to get the drink and tried to remember the latest. As he served the drink he said, “Not sure I’s call it ‘news’, exactly. More like gossip and rumors, but it can usually be reliable, if it’s not from a mouth that’s had too much drink.”

Tlamak sat down, as it was a quieter part of the day, and leaned in as well, lowering his voice a bit. “Here’s what I’ve heard; Somewhere south of here, near Tla’loc’al, someone has been breeding dragons in one of those caves. I’m sure you must already know about the hovertrain that now goes through these lands.” Tlamak thought to himself about what else he’d heard/what he wanted to spread. "Recently, there’s been word, of one brave gog who led an attack on a Church base near Thomasville, got captured Intentionally and taken the nearby ‘prison camp’, so that he could break out the gogs trapped there, and cripple the camp all at once. Incredible stories, eh?

“Also heard tell that a while ago, an dragon appeared out of nowhere, razed an entire army of nightmares, and vanished again, but I don’t believe that tale for a minute.” he finished, leaning back in his chair with an amused smirk. “How about you? Heard anything good lately?”

#43

Hide sighed, standing up. “Well I better bring the news to the captain.” He nodded to the barkeep, slipping his hands into his jacket.

He left his water untouched and left, heading back to Rhug’na’ru.

#44

The olgog took a long swig from the flagon and sighed in contentment.

“Ah this is the stuff. Anyways, I have come to broker a deal of sorts, if you would hear me out. People of my tribe have recently located a large fruit bearing orchard far to the south. It grows near a massive lava-fall, and I think the taste would be divine. I know you have expressed an interest in rarer types of ingredient for your exquisite drinks, and this may be your chance. I have just come north on a ship from there, and I still remember the route. We would provide transportation, what we are asking for is labor, good strong gogs to harvest the fruits and load it onto the ship. We would then sail north, your people claiming fifty percent, and mine fifty percent of the haul. By doing this, we both profit.”

He leaned back, taking another swig from the flagon.

#45

Tlamak sat there for a moment, considering what he had just heard. “A lava-fall, you say? Sounds a bit dangerous, naturally. And you say you haven’t tried it yet? While the prospect of more drinks to sell is wonderful, I never agree to a deal without sampling the product first. You seem to know your way around a good drink so I’m sure you understand.” He said with the slightest trace of excitement at talking business for Tlana’ru.

#46

The olgog’s expression soured, as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. He had hoped that the bar would be more interested in expanding it’s venues. Slapping a few ghaz on the table, he rose and strode to the door. Before he exited however, he turned and half smiled at the barkeep.

“You would do well to align yourself more closely with my friends I think. Times are coming that may be…precarious… for those who find themselves on the wrong side of the fighting.”

Nodding at the other patrons of the bar, he procured his hat from inside his jacket, and exited into the stiff breeze that was coming in from the sea.

#47

The young Olgog barkeep looked confused as the other gog exited. Had he just been threatened. I thought we were discussing business. Did he expect me to straight off agree? Tlamak thought, as he picked up the Ghaz and began his routine of cleaning the bar and tables. Near some lava-falls… I could call it Ka’maklal… he mused to himself.

#48

After the laser strikes on Tla’loc’al, Tlamak closed Tlana’ru for a few days to be with his tribe. However, he was brought back through the artificed tree by Elder Lur’og and ten other tribals. From the tavern’s basement, they would be digging out a tunnel that traveled downwards for a ways before creating a larger cavern that would act as a safehouse that the tribe could retreat to, if their caves in Tla’loc’al needed to be evacuated. Lur’og would be using the Leyas to dig while the others (Tlamak, grudgingly) would dig by hand. After the initial tunnel was built, they would fortify the walls. Then half of the tribals would go home and Tlamak would open the bar again, while Lur’og and the remaining tribals would (at a slower rate) work on creating connecting caverns in case the tribe ever needed to stay for an extended time.

#49

–(work begins inearnest on a safehouse hidden under the bar)–

#50

(OOC: The group of olgogs working on the safehouse paused their work briefly to battle against the Kuggoryyan. Once the nightmare was defeated, Tlamak let them back into Tlana’ru to continue their work. However, for now the bar will remain closed until their work is deep enough.)

#51

It was finally done. A multi-level safehouse that could survive anything short of a direct hit by a bunker buster. It was able to hold 10 gogs comfortably without external food and water for one month. Or it could allow forty olgogs to uncomfortably survive a few days.
Best of all it was reinforced to stop an orbital laser.

It even had bathroom warrens for breeding shash’lee slugs as a food source (and for elminating olgog or human waste products).
It was also thermally protected to hide its inhabitants.

#52

The door opened, allowing a stiff breeze into the bar. A man strode in, closing the door behind him. Dressed in full plate mail armor complete with helm, he looked like a church of one paladin or a successful sell-sword. However, on closer inspection one would notice the fancy black cape as well as the finely tailored leather boots, both marking him as not the average mercenary. A hand and a half sword hung at his side, and appeared to gleam cryptically, but it could just as easily of been a trick of the firelight.

He took off his helm, and set it on a nearby table, revealing a mop of dirty blonde hair, as well as a weary but surprisingly youthful face. He smiled in spite of his long trek back to the bar, and waved to the barkeep.

“A pint of your finest for everyone in here, and for me as well. A second round for the man who can tell me where the great Lurlok can be found!”

#53

Tlamak picked himself up off the floor of the bar and shook his head. His head spun and he couldn’t remember why he was on the ground. The last things he remembered were a highly varied group sitting together, and someone asking if he had fermented dragon eyes. He remembered that more than one member of the group gave him an uneasy feeling, but as the bar’s caretaker, he had to be polite to all of its patrons.

As he thought, he sat down so he didn’t fall down again. Looking around, he noticed that the group was gone, and he wondered how long he was out. Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by the latest arrival, who seemed to be waving and shouting at him. He was smiling, so at least he didn’t appear to be angry with Tlamak. It took the young gog a moment to comprehend what the newcomer was saying, but eventually worked it out, groaning quietly as he got to his feet and began passing mugs of maklal juice to each person present. As he went around, Tlamak thought, Some of these people look how I feel. Once he finished handing out the drinks, he looked down at the remaining mug and thought, eh, why not, and downed its entirety.

Making his way over to the generous newcomer, he said “Sorry, I don’t know who any ‘Lurlok’. You’re paying for this right?” motioning to the patrons with newly filled mugs. Looking at the stranger, he realized that he looked familiar. “Weren’t you here with that strange group about…” Tlamak trailed off as he again remembered that he didn’t know how much time had passed. “Do you know what happened?” he asked. “Last thing I remember was that group of various people, then waking up on the floor.”

#54

Lorne’s smile seemed to fade slightly, as if he was recalling something he didn’t remember fondly.

“Ah yes, you are correct I was a member of that mercenary company. I apologize for your…incapacitation. Some sort of disease or something that one of them used on the bar. Good to see everyone is alright.”

He procured 20 ghaz from a small leather pouch and tossed them to Tlamak.

“There, that should more than cover the costs. With what’s left, open a tab for me. Its Lorne, Lorne Harlas. Anyhow, I am searching for Lurlock, tall, old feeble looking man. He’s a Kasanthian noble or something. I have some information for him, and he is not the easiest man to track down. This is where we last met him so I was hoping someone might know…”

#55

Tlamak looked at the Ghaz, not sure what to do with it, and gave a still-dazed response, “Sorry, but I can’t tell you what happened here while I was unconcious.” Then his eyes grew wide as he took in more information. “Did you say disease?! What kind of disease? Does anyone know? How long do I have to live?!” He rambled, going into a panic.

#56

Ethan pushed through the door, pulling his helmet off. He checked his outfit quickly, wiping off some invisible dust. One might think he fancied himself an earther with the Old grey Earther military jacket and boots. However; the wings pressed against his back ruined the idea. His helmet had a small blue plume, it brushed the top of the door as he entered the building. He had a sword strapped to his back, between the wings, and an acid carbine thrown over his shoulder. A black leather holster held an acid pistol, as well as having said leather holster holding his Goliath sword and acid carbine to his back.

He walked up to the bar, sliding onto a stool. He set the helmet on the table, then looked at Lorne and Tlamak, the latter appeared quite terrified. “Excuse me, but could I get a drink over here?” He said before pulling his goggles out and clearing the lens.

#57

The doors opened as a tall olgog strode into the bar, bag over his shoulder and his hat pulled down low. His stride was off, a crudely made peg leg forcing him to walk awkwardly. He threw himself in a chair at a table near the window, leaning back. Only a few could see his face, and it showed nothing but thought and maybe regret. But it would quickly swell up with determination as he leaned forward. His pack on the table, he strode up to the bar itself. “The strongest thing you have.”

#58

Tlamak finished taking care of another patron, wishing him safe travels as he left, then slid a mug to the newly seated olgog. “You look like you ended up on the wrong end of a Qual. Had a rough time lately, have ya?” He asked, deciding to make conversation with this patron since there weren’t many currently in the room and he was closest to the counter.

#59

He sighed, taking a long swig out of the glass, before responding. “I suppose I have. Although a Qual would give you the wrong idea, it was a decision that leads me to drink in a bar far from home.”

#60

“A decision, eh?” Repeated the Ol’Lur bartender as he cleaned another glass with a dirty rag. “Where’s home then?”