[Action | Open]

[oreooreo]

As far as beaches went, this one wasn’t the aesthetically pleasing kind. In fact it reminded him of the shores of the Lighthouse and consequently of the way he had felt last time he was there, despondent and quietly longing for something he had no way of reaching.

That Tower. It’s gravity was intense. Interesting, and familiar in a way he did not care for. Perhaps it was fate's cruel irony, but on the other hand it might have been a turn for the better. He reserved judgement for now and attempted to cut through the air with his left hand, an action that would usually open a portal to wherever he willed it. The movement produced nothing, but he didn't find himself surprised. For now at least, there was no discernible way home.

The Tower was also inaccessible for now, and while it was a concerning level of effort to put it out of his mind, he was successful in pushing it to the back of his mental checklist.

There were other questions to answer first. "Are those creatures hostile" was the most pressing one, since several lobstrosities were making their way toward him. They looked to be similar to scorpions and lobsters. Potentially venomous.

“Dad-a-chum? Dum-a-chum?”

“Yes,” He answered, unsheathing his bowie knife rather than drawing his handgun. In an unknown situation, conserving ammunition became a priority.

“Ded-a-chek? Did-a-chick?”

If they’re hostile, incapacitate only.

As a group of them drew nearer, surrounding him, he assessed the situation and planned his sequence of attack. The nearest lobstrosity launched, swiping at him with a crushing claw which shattered the rock behind him as he evaded. He countered, attempting to slash at it to test the thickness of the outer shell. His knife didn’t cut through the carapace and another of the creatures now swiped at him. He dodged low. It’s claw flew over him and hit the first creature, smashing part of it’s armored side.

They seemed unintelligent, despite the use of language. Still without knowing the etiquette of this new place, he would not harm them any more than needed to get away. They didn’t move too quickly. He could evade the last one and outrun them.

As a third one approached, Yorolaie ran at it, weaving out of it’s way at the last moment in a feint as he ran past and sprinted away from the beach, toward the city.

Comments

[oreooreo]

"That is the question," Yorolaie mused, gently watching the mantle as the wasps and beetle settled and stilled. Crom himself seemed much smaller without the garb, his skin now exposed to the rooms dark and tepid air. Yorolaie hoped he would not be cold, nor feel vulnerable. He assured himself there was no need to be concerned. Crom had removed the mantle by choice. He knew what he was doing and could handle any problem that may arise.

As Rodin reappeared with their drinks, and hopefully change from that platinum piece Crom had so nonchalantly set down, Yorolaie engaged eye contact with him again, hoping that they might question him a little more.

rolled a d20, with modifier got a 19 lol

[cromcruach]

"Here's a choccy milk, and this is what we call a 'Rip Tire'," Rodin said, placing both drinks down on the bar. Change for the platinum piece did not appear, but Rodin did set it behind the counter. He then leaned over, lit his thumb on fire, and set the 'Rip Tire' alight. "Kanpai."

Crom looked at the layered mass through the glass. "Ooooh," he said, and could practically feel his insides already sighing as they prepared to process an onslaught. He grinned and blew out the flames. "Slainte!"

He picked it up and took a swig. He instantly knew it was highly alcoholic, but he persisted until he had chugged down the whole thing. His stomach lurched, but he set the glass down with a loud "Ahhhh!"

Rodin's face was impassive, Crom decided to act like the man was impressed. He winked at him. "Good for a first! And how's yours, Yorolaie?"

[oreooreo]

Yorolaie wondered briefly what kind of meaning currency might have in this establishment, and whether the same applied to others? He then observed Crom and his theatrics with the drink in good humour. His new friend appeared fearless in regard to the Rip Tire and seemed at present unaffected. Rodin may or may not have been impressed, but Yorolaie made no secret of his own amusement and confirmed so with his expression. A useful experience indeed. If they ever wanted to start a fire, they knew where to find a flammable liquid.

Several of the other patrons who had been watching them were now paying closer attention to the strangers than before. Whether that was because of Crom, or because the bartender had said "Choccy Milk" one would never know.

He took said chocolate milk in his left hand and lifted it.

"To your health,"

He had set his expectations to 'average' or below. As such, he was pleasantly surprised when the quality exceeded expectations. This was a pretty fuckin' good chocolate milk. Not worth an entire platinum piece, but still, it was pretty fuckin' good. What a relief. Such things were available. That in itself ticked a very important box.

"It's excellent," he complimented in answer to Crom's question and toward Rodin in thanks.

He had thought then to ask Rodin his name, while there was opportunity to do so. However, in that moment he felt another body take a seat close to them. Another larger figure, cloaked, with a distinct rodent scent to them. They were staring quite deliberately at the two with a sneer from their snout like protrusion.

"I reckon' y'can't do that agen," they chattered huskily toward Crom, "Twisty body..." They smirked, absently beckoning a drink from Rodin with clawed fingers.

Got an 11

[cromcruach]

Rodin set about mixing another drink, impassive at the opening insult one patron had given to another. Crom looked at the rat-person, and deliberately hunched his shoulders more. He wasn't shrinking back: he just did this whenever anyone pointed it out. It drew more attention to the shape of his spine.

"I reckon I could," he said, and reached up to scratch the back of his neck. He could feel the fruiting bodies want to unfurl from under the skin. Not in here, he told himself. He could let that happen later, when they were somewhere private and equally warm. "But I don't have to. It's fun to process a poison now and again though, wouldn't you agree?"

Two glasses were set on the table, and both of them were lit on fire. Crom watched the hellish flame catch from Rodin's fingers onto the glass, and wished that Dionaea were here. She would have been dancing up on those poles by now, her wild laughter spilling out onto the snow, and the fires of Rakdos dancing in her eyes.

He sighed and picked up the glass.

"But, well, why not? Let's give it a shot. Yorolaie, do you want to keep count?"

He threw the drink down his throat. This time it wasn't as easy, but he still kept it down and felt it dissipate from his blood stream. He tilted his head back and breathed out the poison in a long stream of golden spores.

"Better clean that up," Rodin said mildly from where he was pouring Yorolaie another choccy milk. Crom sighed, leaned into the cloud, and breathed them back in. He could process them outside.