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Post by Alerick Brenthor on Jan 27, 2011 21:57:02 GMT -5
Well that was that then, as far as Brenthor as concerned. He did have to raise a brow though at Valmar. Flammable drink? Well then, that was certainly interesting... For Ashemir, his smirk stayed in place, although his mind was hardly on that for the moment. Just what was he going to do...
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Post by Vieko Ainger on Jan 27, 2011 22:01:14 GMT -5
Raphael nodded, turning and heading out of the tavern. Alright, well.... He looked once in the castle's direction and paused. Then he turned and started heading for the city gates to leave. With or without the information, did the humans really stand a chance? It wasn't like they could seal themselves completely in one day...
(I am out of the order now. c: )
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Post by Seriah Desislov on Jan 27, 2011 22:11:50 GMT -5
Seriah tilted his head at Valmar, looking half amused and half curious. "Are you planning to splash it on someone and light them on fire?" Well, since Valmar didn't have a candle on hand, he supposed that wasn't so likely. Certainly an amusing thought. He'd vote for Brenthor, if only because there was a lot of him to burn.
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Post by Ashemir Draemis on Jan 27, 2011 22:15:42 GMT -5
Most flammable.... Was Valmar going to create his own fire-bombs, then? As long as they weren't thrown in Ashemir's direction, the blonde couldn't muster the ability to care. Ashemir stopped showering Brenthor with seething attention at this point, too wrapped up in relaxing his mind and jaw enough to address the general.
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Post by Malcolm Selder on Jan 27, 2011 22:35:11 GMT -5
For the first few seconds, while the ‘most flammable drink’ inquiry hung in the air. Malcolm stared at Valmar, then to the bar, then to the bottles behind the bar, then back to Valmar. Being tipsy didn’t much help anything, but he was a bartender, not a fire-bomb maker anyways; drunk or no, he could pick one alcohol that burst into flames better than the next.
“Weeeeelllll,” he said, the word dragged out and faintly slurred. “I have...There is...” He paused, momentarily forgetting the names of anything. “...A moment.” He stumbled his way over to the bar, crept behind it, and picked a bottle at random; it happened to be one surprisingly-crystal-clear bottle filled with a similarly transparent alcohol that the label identified as ‘gin.’ That was flammable, wasn’t it?
Assuming so, Malcolm strolled on over, keeping a tight grip on the bottle so he wouldn’t drop it, then handed it over to Valmar. “That’ll do?”
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Post by Valmar Diodorus on Jan 30, 2011 17:22:38 GMT -5
The general studied the bottle of gin. He would like to weaponize the drink for the battle ahead, similarly to Ashemir's inciderary perfume grenade. He opened the bottle and took a swig. Then taking one of the lit candles, he lifted up towards his face and spat the drink into the flames, creating a stream of fire. Luckually, he didn't spit towards any of the other vampires or any flameable, but it was an unexpected show nevertheless. He then looked over at Malcolm and asked, "How many bottles of gin do you have?"
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Post by Alerick Brenthor on Jan 30, 2011 20:24:46 GMT -5
So the vampires were going to start spitting fire at people? Alright then... Well it didn't really matter for him, so...
Brenthor offered a bow. "May I take my leave of you? I would rather like to get back to the castle before anyone starts to question my absence."
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Post by Seriah Desislov on Jan 30, 2011 21:21:05 GMT -5
Seriah leaned back in his seat, despite the flames not being spat in his direction. "Creative." He said, before a smile spread, "If you ever get tired of being a general, you have a wonderful future ahead of you in street performing. Now try swallowing a sword." He chuckled to himself, though he was generally pleased with the generals little show. He turned towards Brenthor, nodding, "Unless Valmar has need of you, feel free to leave. I don't think we have anything immediate left to discuss."
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Post by Ashemir Draemis on Jan 30, 2011 21:22:14 GMT -5
Ashemir leaned back in his seat when Valmar spit fire. …Okay. Whatever the general thought would help, as long as it didn’t burn the entire city to the ground. Voicing objection wasn’t exactly beneficial when he still had a conversation to orchestrate. He shifted in his seat, gathering his courage again. He’d just… say it. Very straightforward. How hard could that be? He took a silent breath.
…
He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t say a thing to the general. Ashemir released the breath, just as demoralized as it was silent. Coward, he scolded himself. After glancing away briefly from the table, he looked back to Seriah. “If I may have your leave, my lord.” Neh… the title came off strange on his tongue. Not that he meant disrespect to Seriah, but it was still somewhat of a challenge to address someone higher than one’s self after decades of independence.
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Post by Malcolm Selder on Jan 30, 2011 21:46:41 GMT -5
Malcolm actually wasn’t all that shocked by the trick. He’d found out alcohol burned years ago and tried the same thing himself; it made for an interesting spectacle, as long as you weren’t around anything wood. The moment the flames dissipated, he checked the floors, tables, and walls in that direction to see if anything had caught the blaze; it looked all right, fortunately. The last thing he wanted was to have another incident of Travis-esque mayhem. Hopefully if the general planned to burn the city, he’d stick to the other side and keep the Dragon’s Keep out of danger. (It would be nice if he burned the Stubborn Boar, though. Less competition...)
Of course, the general’s next question looked towards the future. Malcolm stared a moment, then pointed back towards the counter, where wine racks decorated the wall behind with a panoply of liquors and wines. “Those,” he explained simply. “Ah, but, even though you’re a general, you’ll have to pay for them.” He shrugged, clumsily lifting one shoulder higher than the other. “I have a business to keep, after all.”
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Post by Travis Huntman on Jan 30, 2011 22:07:52 GMT -5
"I see, then I'll buy out the entire celler then," replied the general. Hopefully, he'll be able to create a good number of molotovs, so long none of his men were alcoholics. Valmar then turn towards Seriah, who found the general fire act amusing. "You know, I knew a guy back in the days that could shallow a sword. Then one day, he drove the blade too deep, handled too much than he could shallow. Not exactly a good way to go."
When Brenthor was mentioned, Valmar wasn't sure what use he had with him. Though, he may have a few words for him in private. "We can meet later, Brenthor, but you can feel free to leave."
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Post by Alerick Brenthor on Jan 30, 2011 22:25:21 GMT -5
Brenthor bowed again. "Thank you." The words felt vile on his tongue even as he said them. Damn it, soon enough they would be bowing to /him/. A smile twitched onto his lips as he turned to go. These were once men after all, and just like men, they would be easy to topple.
He walked out of the tavern, heading back to the castle.
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Post by Seriah Desislov on Jan 30, 2011 22:44:41 GMT -5
He nodded to Ashemir, "Sure. You might want to check on Draven..." As much as the vampire's abrupt leaving has pissed him off, he had to assume he was feeling pretty terrible to explain the behavior. He returned his attention to Valmar, still looking amused, despite the tale of death. "I don't know, chocking to death on a sword seems like a fairly impressive way to go." Uncomfortable, surely. At any rate, it wouldn't be very impressive if it wasn't dangerous.
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Post by Ashemir Draemis on Jan 30, 2011 22:49:45 GMT -5
Sword swallowing... that didn't seem like the smartest occupation. You might as well just be a magician; as much audience amazement with some less danger. "I'm going to find someone for him," Ashemir nodded to Seriah. He stood up and made his way to the door, exiting the tavern. If whatever higher power that was up there smiled on him, he wouldn't run into Brenthor at all while he conducted his search...
(Aaand, I'm out of the order too.)
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Post by Malcolm Selder on Jan 30, 2011 23:02:24 GMT -5
Damn! Was every vampire but him hiding some sort of untold riches? First Draven, now Valmar... “Fine,” he said, nodding. “All yours. I assume you’ve got the men to handle carrying it out.”
And...Now nearly everyone was gone. Draven was upstairs, Raphael was off spying, Brenthor had rolled on his own merry way, and now even Ashemir had walked out. Which left the tavern with the warlord, the general, and a mere bartender. Malcolm glanced between the two of them, feeling a bit out of place. “I suppose the meeting is finished?”
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