Late Night, at the Tavern

"At the strike of night, ye best beware, the absence of light is where ... oddities do dare."

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a loremaster: - clad in boxer shorts and a wizard hat placed neatly on his head, a short individual with the nametag 'Thibintrot' wanders into the local tavern. the clamorous sound of steel-boot impacting a wooden terrain resonates the room, idly indicating the entry of the reclusive one. an odd, glowering peer surveys the room through one eye - the left, of course, covered by a magnified glass to make vision seem supernaturally honed. with a mild snort, and tactfully adjusting suspenders, the small man wanders through the crowd and makes way toward the distant bar. once within range, the noise is quickly silenced by an outspoken and loudly roared word... "Coffeeee!" the wizardly one states, staring attentively at the barkeep in wait of response. -d-

Tangled Weeds: The bar keep- *Smell of stale beer and strong liquor permeated the bar. Its inhabitants a surly lot of scurvy sea dogs. The men were questionable in what their professions were. The women. No question what line of work they were in. The barkeep. Well she was a bigun of a woman. Brunhilda was her name. Near on seven feet tall blond braids and a rack that were just great tracks of land. Big woman. The pipy voice on the other side of the bar seemed to come out of thin air till she peered over the bar at the gnome little half naked wizard. Then points to the sign on the wall that reads. "No shoes, not pants, no serves." *