04-13-2017, 07:13 PM
Dan dragged his feet through the grim gates of Darkshire. His cartoonish figure drew a few disinterested gazes. It worked out well, since he had no interest in them either. A cobble path led deeper into the town. Several small grocery stands lined the street. An inn and a tavern faced across the street from each other. “Hmm, that tavern could be a good place to start,” Dan mumbled.
The tavern’s door burst open, with everyone inside turning their heads in suspicion. Dan stood there, yelling “Alright, who-”
*thunk*
Dan opened the door again, shuffling back inside, and closed it behind himself. “Alright,” he repeated, “who here knows how to get to Omni?”
Everyone in the tavern gawked at the stranger. “Feh, just anuther kook,” some drunkie blurted out, then everyone returned to what they were doing. Dan glared into the tavern, nobody paying him any mind except the bartender, a hulking figure with a clean shaven face who was decked in a black vest, pants and white collar shirt. He was walking over to the irate stranger.
“Excuse me, sir,” the bartender scolded, “but our tavern does not tolerate the impolite.”
“Excuse yourself, buddy, I just asked a question. Besides, this is a pub. Nobody’s polite when they’re drunk.”
“Let me rephrase, then; we do not tolerate fools bursting through the door like children.”
“Children? Who are you calling a child? You don’t have even a hair on your chin!”
The bartender punched his left palm as he gave Dan a deathly leer. “You don’t want to go there. I suggest you leave promptly.”
“Or else what, baby face? What are you gonna do?”
In no seconds flat, Dan was flung out of the bar. He at least got a souvenir, though; a nice black eye to match his shirt. The bartender slammed the door behind him. He barked, “Whatever, I didn’t need you guys anyway!” As he sat on the edge of the road, watching the horses clop by while pondering what to do next...
“I believe I may be of assistance,” said some voice behind Dan. He jumped and turned around to see a tall figure, probably 8 foot tall or so, standing just beside the door to the bar. He wore a large black trench coat and a fedora which kept his face hidden from view.
“AGH! What’s with this place and sneaking up on people?!”
“I hear you are searching for access to the ‘almighty’ Omni?”
“Yeah, what of it?”
“All are not particularly enchanted by Omni’s policy of drafting Primes into his delusional little realm. If your intent is revenge, go rap on Dracula’s front gate.”
The stranger turned Dan around, pointing past him toward a castle in the distance, its presence hazy through the fog but very much visible. As Dan turned to ask the creep his name, he found himself alone in the street.
“Tch,” Dan muttered, “what a freak show.” This place was not sending very good signals for Dan. He lost his sandwich, got kicked out of a bar in under a minute, and got caught off guard twice now. The sooner he got payback on the New York bright light that brought him here, the better.
The tavern’s door burst open, with everyone inside turning their heads in suspicion. Dan stood there, yelling “Alright, who-”
*thunk*
Dan opened the door again, shuffling back inside, and closed it behind himself. “Alright,” he repeated, “who here knows how to get to Omni?”
Everyone in the tavern gawked at the stranger. “Feh, just anuther kook,” some drunkie blurted out, then everyone returned to what they were doing. Dan glared into the tavern, nobody paying him any mind except the bartender, a hulking figure with a clean shaven face who was decked in a black vest, pants and white collar shirt. He was walking over to the irate stranger.
“Excuse me, sir,” the bartender scolded, “but our tavern does not tolerate the impolite.”
“Excuse yourself, buddy, I just asked a question. Besides, this is a pub. Nobody’s polite when they’re drunk.”
“Let me rephrase, then; we do not tolerate fools bursting through the door like children.”
“Children? Who are you calling a child? You don’t have even a hair on your chin!”
The bartender punched his left palm as he gave Dan a deathly leer. “You don’t want to go there. I suggest you leave promptly.”
“Or else what, baby face? What are you gonna do?”
In no seconds flat, Dan was flung out of the bar. He at least got a souvenir, though; a nice black eye to match his shirt. The bartender slammed the door behind him. He barked, “Whatever, I didn’t need you guys anyway!” As he sat on the edge of the road, watching the horses clop by while pondering what to do next...
“I believe I may be of assistance,” said some voice behind Dan. He jumped and turned around to see a tall figure, probably 8 foot tall or so, standing just beside the door to the bar. He wore a large black trench coat and a fedora which kept his face hidden from view.
“AGH! What’s with this place and sneaking up on people?!”
“I hear you are searching for access to the ‘almighty’ Omni?”
“Yeah, what of it?”
“All are not particularly enchanted by Omni’s policy of drafting Primes into his delusional little realm. If your intent is revenge, go rap on Dracula’s front gate.”
The stranger turned Dan around, pointing past him toward a castle in the distance, its presence hazy through the fog but very much visible. As Dan turned to ask the creep his name, he found himself alone in the street.
“Tch,” Dan muttered, “what a freak show.” This place was not sending very good signals for Dan. He lost his sandwich, got kicked out of a bar in under a minute, and got caught off guard twice now. The sooner he got payback on the New York bright light that brought him here, the better.