04-26-2016, 08:03 PM
The air was thick with a bouquet of spices and meats from the countless street vendors that lined the main thoroughfare through Ambrosia. The growls and squawks of exotic animals mixed with strange accents as the citizens and visitors squabbled over wares. One stall was run by two strange men. The first had a bushy, grey tail, and the second had antlers like a moose. They seemed to be in an arguement with a tall, thin woman and a short, fat man over the fair price of sunglasses with fake beards attached.
After travelling a half hour into the city Odin finally heard a sound he was more familiar with: thick glass thumping on wood. Turning to his right he saw a faded, wooden sign that spelled out Ottering Hole in blue letters. With a shrug he rode up to the nearest hitching post, dismounted, and secured Sleipnir. He pulled open the heavy, wooden door to the windowless building and stepped inside. The room was much darker than the street, and it took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust. When they did, he was quite honestly shocked.
An artificial river lazily flowed clockwise around the room. Approximately 4 feet wide, it was filled with all manner of water loving creatures. A bridge at Odin’s feet lead to the middle part of the room, which was a more traditional bar floor. It was covered in shipping crates, the small ones serving as chairs and the larger ones as tables. The bar was sunken down into the floor and U-shaped, one side serving the river patrons and the other side serving the center of the room. Working behind the counter was a 6-foot tall otter.
Odin paused for a second before continuing over the bridge into the room. Slowly, he approached the bar and waited for the otter’s attention.
“C’mon old man. I ain’t got all day,” barked the bartender as he stepped toward Odin.
“Ale?” asked the old man, unsure of what was available.
“Yeah, Yeah,” replied the otter as he grabbed a half-clean glass from the bar top and filled it from a tap under the bar. “Narwhale. 1 Omni-pence,” he continued flatly. Odin reached into a pouch before summoning the smallest piece of Omnilium he could. When he placed it on the bar, the bartender scooped it up in his paw before quickly moving on to the next customer.
Sipping the brackish swill, Odin glanced around the room looking for someone he could pump for information. He made note of a few possibilities before his gaze found the perfect mark. 5 empty mugs decorated his table, and he was finishing another. The man’s boots were thick with mud, and his skin pockmarked with scars. He carried a sword, a machete, and a bow. They had all seen better days, but the damage seemed cosmetic.
Odin dropped another Omni-pence on the bar, and when he got his second drink, he took it over to the man and set it in front of him. The man’s head wobbled as he turned toward Odin, but his gaze was steady, focused. He studied Odin for a few seconds before turning to the drink and taking a long drag.
“Let me guess. You lost your grandson in the Haunted Forest and want me to go look for him,” slurred the ranger.
“Even easier. I just need directions,” smiled the old man.
The ranger looked over Odin again, more slowly. “If it ain’t to the Nexus gate or somewhere here in town, you are gonna need more than just directions. Leave the adventuring to the kids. Shit, I’m thinking about retiring myself,” rebuffed the man.
“I assure you, I am not as feeble as you think I am. But I do not expect you to take my word. Let me prove it,” offered Odin, grinning. Turning to where the lazy river was the nearest to them, he continued, “I bet you I can stay under water for any length of time.”
The man narrowed his eyes and looked Odin over. He could see no gills but specified anyways, “Without breathing water? I’ll get one of the fish to verify for me.”
“No water breathing required,” agreed Odin, eyes twinkling.
“Alright, you do this old man, and I will take you wherever you are going myself,” confirmed the ranger.
“Deal,” exclaimed Odin as he stood and untied his cloak. Placing the cloak neatly on his chair, Odin picked up one of the empty mugs from the table and approached the water. With a flourish, he filled the glass and held it over his head. Continuing to hold the glass in place, he returned to his seat and sat down.
For a few seconds, the ranger squinted at him in confusion. Then his eyes widened, and he let out a chortle that quickly turned into a full belly laugh. “Alright, you dumb old bastard. Meet me out front of here in the morning,” he wheezed as you wiped tears from the corners of his eyes.
After travelling a half hour into the city Odin finally heard a sound he was more familiar with: thick glass thumping on wood. Turning to his right he saw a faded, wooden sign that spelled out Ottering Hole in blue letters. With a shrug he rode up to the nearest hitching post, dismounted, and secured Sleipnir. He pulled open the heavy, wooden door to the windowless building and stepped inside. The room was much darker than the street, and it took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust. When they did, he was quite honestly shocked.
An artificial river lazily flowed clockwise around the room. Approximately 4 feet wide, it was filled with all manner of water loving creatures. A bridge at Odin’s feet lead to the middle part of the room, which was a more traditional bar floor. It was covered in shipping crates, the small ones serving as chairs and the larger ones as tables. The bar was sunken down into the floor and U-shaped, one side serving the river patrons and the other side serving the center of the room. Working behind the counter was a 6-foot tall otter.
Odin paused for a second before continuing over the bridge into the room. Slowly, he approached the bar and waited for the otter’s attention.
“C’mon old man. I ain’t got all day,” barked the bartender as he stepped toward Odin.
“Ale?” asked the old man, unsure of what was available.
“Yeah, Yeah,” replied the otter as he grabbed a half-clean glass from the bar top and filled it from a tap under the bar. “Narwhale. 1 Omni-pence,” he continued flatly. Odin reached into a pouch before summoning the smallest piece of Omnilium he could. When he placed it on the bar, the bartender scooped it up in his paw before quickly moving on to the next customer.
Sipping the brackish swill, Odin glanced around the room looking for someone he could pump for information. He made note of a few possibilities before his gaze found the perfect mark. 5 empty mugs decorated his table, and he was finishing another. The man’s boots were thick with mud, and his skin pockmarked with scars. He carried a sword, a machete, and a bow. They had all seen better days, but the damage seemed cosmetic.
Odin dropped another Omni-pence on the bar, and when he got his second drink, he took it over to the man and set it in front of him. The man’s head wobbled as he turned toward Odin, but his gaze was steady, focused. He studied Odin for a few seconds before turning to the drink and taking a long drag.
“Let me guess. You lost your grandson in the Haunted Forest and want me to go look for him,” slurred the ranger.
“Even easier. I just need directions,” smiled the old man.
The ranger looked over Odin again, more slowly. “If it ain’t to the Nexus gate or somewhere here in town, you are gonna need more than just directions. Leave the adventuring to the kids. Shit, I’m thinking about retiring myself,” rebuffed the man.
“I assure you, I am not as feeble as you think I am. But I do not expect you to take my word. Let me prove it,” offered Odin, grinning. Turning to where the lazy river was the nearest to them, he continued, “I bet you I can stay under water for any length of time.”
The man narrowed his eyes and looked Odin over. He could see no gills but specified anyways, “Without breathing water? I’ll get one of the fish to verify for me.”
“No water breathing required,” agreed Odin, eyes twinkling.
“Alright, you do this old man, and I will take you wherever you are going myself,” confirmed the ranger.
“Deal,” exclaimed Odin as he stood and untied his cloak. Placing the cloak neatly on his chair, Odin picked up one of the empty mugs from the table and approached the water. With a flourish, he filled the glass and held it over his head. Continuing to hold the glass in place, he returned to his seat and sat down.
For a few seconds, the ranger squinted at him in confusion. Then his eyes widened, and he let out a chortle that quickly turned into a full belly laugh. “Alright, you dumb old bastard. Meet me out front of here in the morning,” he wheezed as you wiped tears from the corners of his eyes.