Salamandastron: Recreation Room -------------- Salamandastron --------------- The recreation room for the army of the Longpatrol. Here soldiers come to relax after a hard day's work and the officers come for a game of cards or a quick drink by the fire. The room is quite large, having to deal with a lot of hares at one time. Along one wall there is a large worktop with some cuhsioned stools lining one side of it. On the other side of the worktop there stand many kegs and bottles, lined so that they can be easily opened by someone standing on the inside of the bar but well out of reach of the rowdy hares on the other side. There are a few woollen cloths on the bar and mats in front of each stool. The next thing nearest to the bar are the round tables, each with 4 chairs around and a lantern in the middle of each one. There are a couple of slightly larger oval tables with 8 seats around, obviously for larger crowds. The other end of the room is littered with armchairs, comfortable armchairs, each pair with a small table in between. The armchairs are near the fire, used to heat the room and provide extra comfort for the relaxing soldiers. -------------------------------------

Buckthorn was mulling over the extensive wares of the barhare. His eyes grazed the rainbow of colors in bottles before him, each in turn tempting him. The large hare tapped his paws gently on the bartop (which, might he add, was clean and slick as ever). "Erm... somethin' sweet tah'day, I think Nev." He says after the long ponder. "What would meh favorite hare prescribe?"

Darklett stretches his arms back behind his back, his vertebrae popping, as he walks into the recreation room with a smile. Break time, heh. He scans the room, and heads over to the bar, picking up speed a couple paces away from a stool next to Buckthorn so he can leap up and plop down on, drumming his paws on the bartop a few times and grinning. "Hey, Buck! Hey, Nev."

Neville grins broadly, cheered by the knowledge that another customer is appreciative of his hard work, he follows Buck's eyes across his spirits collection and nods knowingly, "Summit sweet but strong I'll gather. Got jus' the concoction for yeh!" advises Nev as he turns and burrows through the various bottles before pulling out a red-tinted glass bottle. "This is beautiful stuff, 'tis a whiskey but made using fermented oranges, its sweet and warm, lovely stuff" explains the barhare before placing a sample snifter into a glass for Buck before turning to Dark, already confident of Buck's approval. "So Dark m'lad, what'll it be?"

Buckthorn pushes a good number of coins down, a heafty tip for the hare. "Yeh're ah savior, Nev." He says with a smile and a wink. He sips at the stuff, nodding. "Ah, perfect!" Buck compliments. He then turns his eyes to the new arrival. "Hallo, Dah'rk. Y'seem cheery tah'day."

Cyril is already seated at the bar, more by himself. The quiet hare is actually just scribbling on a piece of parchment, a black charcoal pen gripped in his paw. The scribbles form rough lines, and the lines vaguely form... a mug. With his eyes on Neville, it is easy to see what he is using as a reference.

Darklett thinks. "Eh, not in the mood for the regular old ale today, Neville. Hmm..." He looks over the bottles, considering the selection thoughtfully. "Can I get something with a kick to it? Uhh, what's the word... Hm. I don't know, give me strong. I don't have patrol for the rest of the day, knock me on my behind!" He grins at Buckthorn. "Well, nothing to be too unhappy about, I guess!"

Neville laughs and shakes his head, "Well you're not a daft'un, I know you're not going to ask for m'strongest like some brave young buck tried to t'other day, but summit to numb the senses and warm the belly eh? Well it depends what kinda thing yer after Dark. I've got a couple of ales that'll put you out after a few, a fine range of fortified wines and you can see the selection of spirits and liquors, most've which have rather a kick it must be said". Neville gestures across his selection, glacing suspiciously at Cyril as he notices the hare glancing at him in the corner of his eye.

Buckthorn chuckles at the request of the hare. "No pah'trol fer th'rest o'th' day? Yeh lucky lad... o'course, I spend most o' my time in th'infirmary." He reflects with a laugh. "Ah, m'glad I picked tah be ah healer."

Cyril does glance, though not all that frequently. Really not a target worthy of suspicion. He wears a small smile of self amusement, uncaring that the charcoal is mussing his paw. As just one of the usual rank and file, he knows not the bantering pair, and instead chooses wisely to stare curiously at them.

Darklett grins, pointing at Neville. "That's exactly what I'm talking about, something like that... Let's see... Whisky, do you have any of that stuff lying around?" He drums his paws on the bartop again, his eyes not leaving the bottles as he answers Buckthorn. "Boring! Boring stuff, the infirmary. I've been in there before, I should know." He chuckles, then points to a bottle of whisky with a greenish hue. "How about that one, that one's speaking to me..."

Neville takes a moment to look at Cyril, "Say there lad, if the view's good you can get a drink if yer like as well, got some cordials and whatnot if you're ..." he shudders slightly, "not a drinker" offers Neville. He looks back to Dark and barks a laugh, "Whiskey?.... Do I have any whiskey??" he cracks up again, "I reckon I've got over twenty... no... must be thirty different variations of whiskey in my stocks" he grins as Dark points one out, "Ah, well if it's speakin to ya I think you've had enough enough... buuut that's a good'un. Matured over a decade that'un was, bought it off a northern chap, rather good" he repeats as he pulls down the bottle and offers a trial gulp for the hare, leaving the bottle close by should it be a success.

Buckthorn huffs playfully. "Aw, it b'aint borin'... not.. er, usually... but it beats trampin' 'round th'sand dunes like ah bally crab." He snorts, shaking his head. The sweet smelling drink making him smile. He flicks his eyes up as the barkeep offers the drink. "Is that what yeh've been doin', mate? I haven't really seen yeh 'round lately."

Darklett grins, rolling his eyes at the whiskey comment, knowing full well it was a stupid question, but eh. "Hey, if chaps like us didn't crawl around the dunes, you healer types would be out of a lot of your job." He nudges Buck playfully before taking the gulp of the whisky, his nose sniffling a little almost immediately after he swallows it. "Err! Yes, keep that one comin'."

Cyril blinks, though he is not exactly startled at being to suddenly addressed. "Oh... uh... well sure." Taking a moment to think, scratching thoughtfully at an ear, he suddenly picks up his drawing of the mug, and shows it to Neville. "One of these?" He smiles helpfully.

Neville grins and places a larger glass next to both Buck and Dark, sloshing their two preferences into the respective glasses. He looks over to Cyril to take the other and raises an eyebrow, "Erm, y'want a mug?" asks the barkeep in confusion, "Can give yer something to weigh it down as well if you like? Got a fine range of ales, some home brewed, some imported from elsewhere, all good"

Buckthorn smiles at the other. "Oh yes... rather." He says smugly, shaking his head. The hare remains silent for a moment, long enough to take another draft of his drink. At the words of Nev, Buck chuckles. "I'm 'alfway tempted tah make yeh ah menu board. Yer throat must go numb by th'end o'the day, Nev."

Cyril shakes his head and laughs quietly, letting the drawing slip softly from his charcoal fingers to the bartop. He is careful not to smear the surface itself. "No... I mean, yes, I want a mug." Neville receives a nod this time, and more curio-think. "I'll... trust your best judgment."

Darklett snorts a quick laugh as he takes a drink of the poured drink, letting it slide down his throat with a long "ahhhh..." He looks down the bar, quite curiously at Cyril... Then turns to Buck. "What, and deprive Nev here of his pride in his collection? Ha!" He sips his drink again, and takes another curious look down at Cyril, with the picture of the mug and everything. Lowering his voice, he nods his head in Cyril's direction while looking at Buckthorn. "Ever seen him before?"

Neville looks shocked, shocked and quite offended at Buck's offer of a menu, "And how d'yathink I'm going to be proud of my collection if yer can read it from a board. A board can't explain the difference between all these ale's and spirits, a'mean, I'd hafta name em all" he says, shaking his head sadly, "Ahn then ya could replace me, put some pretty young doe here so all you hafta do is point at the menu and..." he shudders, "Its just wrong" mutters Neville, with more shaking of his head and dark muttering about dark days when a hare can choose fer himself. He judges Cyril with a raised eyebrow and picks a light, fresh ale to put in the mug, placing it in front of the chap, well away from his sketches, "See wotcha think, can change if I'm wrong" adds Neville with a grin.

Buckthorn laughs, glancing at Buck muttering. "Nah, mate..." He then looks back to Nev, looking him up and down. "Ah pretty young doe, eh? Well... that dose't sound to bad at all. I'll submit that request t'the offi'cahs!" He says seriously, giving a wink to Dark.

Darklett backs Buck up wholeheartedly on that one. "Ha! Exchange the eyesore of a bartender we have now with a nice doe... Hey, not a bad idea at all, Neville! I think I'll second Buck's motion to the officers!" Another nudge is given to Buckthorn, returning the wink, before turning his eyes back down to Cyril, not staring at him for too long, sort of a nonchalant watching.

Cyril does not know he's being muttered about in whispered tones, because his eyes track the mug as Neville approaches. His head loswers to it as it is presented and he sniffs curiously at it. Cyril lets out a little chuckle at the boisterousness of Buckthorn, though he is really half listening. After a sudden motion, he has the mug and is supping away. "..Mm."

Neville looks thoughtful, "Thats true actually, m'last fine young barmaid left, claimed she was being harassed by a lecherous barhare or summit outrageous" says Neville with a faraway look on his face, "Ahh, good times". He shakes his head, clearing away the memories, "Ahah, hah.. erm, sorry yes, where was I.."

Buckthorn clears his throat, drawing himself up to full height. "Burrhum! Well, I can ah'sure yeh Sir, t'was not I! Now... this 'un..." He says, pointing at Dark. "I wouldn't trust 'im with a doe fer ah minute, no Sir!"

Darklett laughs wholeheartedly at Neville's quick anecdote, his paw slapping the bartop a few times as he takes a long gulp of the stuff, about the size of a shot, and shakes his head, sniffing and placing the glass back down. "Neville, you monster of a hare, you!" He looks disarmingly at Buckthorn, actually faking guilt. "Whaaaat? No, sir, not me! I'd never!" He breaks down into laughter again, and we all know when you're having fun, you drink more! Gulp.

Despite Cyril's vigil, he does manage to get some charcoal pawprints on the mug itself. At least he avoided the bar. Taking it up into both paws for stability, he turns and looks back at Darklett, catching one of those glances. He blinks a few times, his expression clearly reading huh and what?

Neville looks about conspiritorally, "Actually fellas, she blamed me, said I was making... now what was it... ah yes, unwelcome advances, thats the fella. But no, y'see, just playin hard to get, clever lass" sighs Neville, "Ah well, if yer happen to know any gals looking for a little extra pay and a couple of perks" at this point nevile waggles an eyebrow, conveying a whole host of possible connotations, most dubious, "then send em my way lads".

Darklett raises his brow and rubs the side of his face, rolling his eyes away to avoid suspicion of staring down the bar at Cyril. Doopdeedoo... "Unwelcome advances? Hah. I'll be on the lookout for potential bar does for you, Nev. Might keep you company when you're up here all lonely."

Buckthorn rolls his eyes, giving a small smile to Neville. "I jus' might do that." The buck says coyly, noting the wraggle of the brow. "Yeh're ah cheely hare, Nev." He says cheerfully, tapping the bar lightly. Cyril shrugs slightly to himself as Darklett turns away, and quietly turns back to the bar himself. He mutters something vaguely agreeable to Neville's statement, chuckles, and sets his mug down on the bar to pick up his pen again.

Neville laughs, "Well I must say some permantany company would be nice, haven't had any company up here for... well... must be a week now at least." says Neville, shaking his head in disgust, "Going spare with the lonelyness I am" he says. He glances at Buck, "Cheeky? Nah Buck me ol' chum, I'm jus' friendly" he says, his head slowly turning and following a young doe passing by the doorway, "Very friendly..." he says, "Ahhnyways, I'm a happy here giving advice about my selection of drinks and whatnot, and I'm not gonna get a dry throat now am I?" he laughs, pouring himself a mug of light ale to drink slowly as he works.

Buckthorn his eyes also turn to the doe passing, but they hold no interest as they turn back. "Cheeky, friendly... wot'ever." He says with a shrug, draining his glass. The buck smacks his lips happily.

Darklett misses the doe completely, as he's draining what's left of his glass, about the size of a shot, once again. "Nev, fill me up 'nother one. Felt nice, tasted good. And hey-- No problem having you up here, you're a heckuva tender, Neville." Sorrel room-pages, "ANYway.... may i rp?".

Neville fills up Buck's glass before he even asks, if the hare didn't want another, he's getting one anyways. He turns and grabs Dark's choice of drink and pauses before the liquid starts to pour, "Well m'friend, if I'm a heckuva tender, I might deserve a tip once in a while" he says, nodding knowingly, "I like to treat my favourite customers well... and my favourite customers always tip well" he says, making it seem more the other way round, still waving the bottle temptingly

Cyril shades some of the stylized parchment mug, while sipping from the more corporeal version. Though, he soon reaches the end of that ale and sets it down, collecting his paper and pen. Tucking them carefully away, he nods to the trio and stands, making his quiet way toward the door.

Buckthorn tosses a few more coins on the bar, his eyes still turned away. "Eh, I got 'im, Nev." He offers, patting Dark on the shoulder and placing even more. Buck sips at his refreshed drink, not at all protesting at the refill.

Darklett about reaches into his pockets, but then Buck gets all generous on him! "Heh, thanks, Bucko. I'll get you next time... You want a tip, Nev?" He grins, obviously quite proud of what he's about to say. "Bathe regularly, that's your tip." Hehe! Alkeehol!

Sorrel hops in, for once not bleeding from the nose, or covered in sweat. hrm, dark and buck sitting next to each other, what a.....coincidence. She bounces over, plopping an arm on each hare's shoulder. "'lo fellahs."

Rothal follows in shortly after Sorrel, walking moodily over to the bar, sitting down in a chair. After three days of recovery, he's back, but not likely to order much.

Neville slips the coins below the bar, not even looking as he does so, carefully pouring a rather generous portion into Dark's glass, watchful that this might hafta be his last if he's getting a bit wobbly. He sniffs slightly at his bath comment, before dramatically taking a splash of ale and dabbing it on his neck, "There we go, beautiful" he says, giving a wink to Sorrel as she enters. He grins at Dark, "Come on lad, I've got to get the money for all my fine spirits and ingredients from somewhere, an its not like they let me charge you chaps for the drinks" he says bitterly.

Sorrel winks back,ignoring the resent conversation until her throat is sufficiently wet. "ey Nev!! Got som o' tha' whiskey left?" stupid question

Buckthorn almost coughs up his last sip as the doe comes in. He averts his eyes to Darks, almost pleading to him for a hiding place. Hee. Buck stays hunched against the bar, his head and ears down.

Darklett grins as Neville refills his drink, immediately taking a gulp, choking on it slightly as Sorrel startles him. "Erk! Oh, uh... Hey, Sorrel. Here to drink?" He grins, brow raised slightly past her and to Rothal. "Heeeyy, Rothal, we got ourselves a regular party up here, Nev! Ah, I said I'll take Buck's tip later, I'll get you your money... Eh, hey, Buck, what's up... oh." Hehe! Alkeehol! "Have a seat, Sorrel!" He taps the seat on the OTHER side of him, away from Buckthorn. XD

Rothal sits quietly for a moment, running his eyes along the barrels of drink. He nods to Dark, not sharing his apparent enthusiasm. "Hey Nev, somethin' to drink down here, please."

Sorrel hrms, i don' know, i kinda like it here..." she leans heavily on Buck's shoulder, hoping to unbalance him.

Buckthorn looks back, giving her an arched brow. Alcohol rarely affected him unless taken in mass qualities. "Yes?" He questions dully. The buck sighs and turns his attention to Rothal, the hare studying the other for a moment. This was the same that seemed so moody the other day... Buck still hadn't figured out why. Huh. He swirls the contents of his glass around, his eyes finally dropping back down.

Neville cracks his fingers and plies his trade, glancing over to see if Cyril needs a refil before sliding over in front of Sorrel and Roth, "Well well well, another whisky drinker in the one night. Weeeell I'm afraid to say that the other bottle ran out" the barkeep mutters quietly but the work colonel can be just made out during the tirade, "Aaah well, Dark there's enjoying the mature northern whisky, although you may want to try a bit of Buck's sweet orange whisky, lovely stuff it is" he says, giving her time to think as he moves onto Roth, "What'll it be then? From the stares at the barrel's I'd say an ale, wots yer fancy? Light & refreshing? heavy and tasty, spiced and warm or thick as tar and with the kick of a scorned doe"

Rothal frowns, shaking his head. "Ya spend to much time around the ales, Nev. Anywho, get me somethin' strong.. Just not -real- strong."

Sorrel does think...hard. she picks her hiskey very carefully. but with the last comment of the scorned doe, she frowns. "hey, ye won' a tip or not?" she says jokingly."

Darklett starts downing his whiskey a little quicker, since he's finding nobeast to talk to. Heh. He glances down the bar to Rothal. "Hey, Roth, been keepin' y'self busy? Haven't seen you around much las' couple of days." He takes another gulp, his glass already about halfway gone.

Neville shakes his head sadly, "The ale is my pride and joy matey, if I didn't know em well I wouldn't be a very good barhare now would I?" he says with a laugh, patting one of the barrels, "The dark bitter it is then, quite tasty, slightly burnt, oaky flavour infused in there, and its strong... but not too strong as y'say" he explains, pouring half a tankard for the hare to try. He places the brew and turns back to Sorrel, taking a small tester glass and sploshing a small measure of the orange whisky in, "Have a try, see wotcha make of it" he says, peering back to Dark with a roll of his eyes, "Take it easy Dark, less haste more drink as they say"

Rothal grimaces, nodding to Dark again. "Ya really don' wanta know, Dark. To much ale, Hi got sick."

Sorrel downs it, not swallowing it imediately. after a while see places the shot glass down. "good, i'll take it."

Darklett eyes his glass, noting just then that he's not been pacing himself very well. "Thankya, Nev." He takes a sip, swishing it around in his mouth before swallowing it, chuckling at Rothal. "Ooh, been in that position before. Not so pretty is it? Felt plain terrible for days, hoo! Never wanna do that again!"

Buckthorn remains silent, having really not much to say. He tries his best to ignore the shouting and bantering about him, as it was starting to give the buck a headache.

Rothal sips quietly at the drink before him, laying down a coin or two on the bar.

Darklett mutters. "Gotta check on Auree. Forgot about that..." He taps his free paw on the bar as if contemplating whether or not to go find his kid, then curses under his breath. Probably not making the best decision ever, he tilts the glass back, and glugs it all down at once. "Mm, good stuff, 'ere. G'nna have to remember that one." He slides off the barstool, giving an apologetic pat on Buckthorn's back, before jogging off, in a slightly curved line.

Neville passes roth and Dark, slipping the coins into his pocket as he does so, he gives Roth a wink, "Not too strong I hope?" he asks before continuing to pick up an empty mug that had been left at the end of the bar. He peers inside and pops in into a barrel of water in the corner to be washed later. He turns and surveys his realm, "Anyone waiting?" he asks, not seeing any empty glasses anyways, he grabs his light ale and takes a sip. He quickly slides over and corks the bottle Dark was drinking from and tidies away the glass, "Night Dark lad, I'll put the bottle aside for ya" he says to the departing hare.