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expiationlogs2023-04-21 12:41 pm
electroburst) wrote in expiationlogs2023-04-21 12:41 pm
(OPEN MINGLE) Ain't no party like an Aldrip party
Who: The Chosen
Where: Aldrip inn
What: Open mingle log (with mod approval)!
Warnings: Nothing major anticipated, other than light (underaged) drinking and comic mischief, but PM me if any warn-worthy things happen and I can update this space.
Feel free to use this log as a completely open mingle for all characters new and old! There will be a few prompts below the cut, but you're free mess around with them or come up with your own ideas for toplevels, and tag around as you please.
Nestled in the heart of the quaint town of Aldrip, the inn, formally known as The Inn, has housed the Chosen of Expiation since their initial arrival. In spite of the occasional influx of new Chosen, they've dedicatedly provided rooms, food and drink, and basic amenities without buckling—even during the food shortages and other issues that have plagued the town. Of course, the Chosen have been no slouches themselves, repaying the hospitality with mercenary work, hunting and fishing, cooking, completing odd jobs, and much more to help bolster the economy. Even those, er, less magnanimous sorts have benefitted from this give-and-take, although there are those that prefer their living space to be a bit more solitary (or perhaps cave-ier) that might not have noticed as much.
In the days to follow, most won't be able to recount exactly how The Party started. The true story is that one particular new arrival, after having spent a day or two scouting the area out and, deciding it's chill enough, opted to do what he does best: be a public menace. What is known is that rounds of drinks start getting ordered and handed out, and soon platters of cheese, fresh bread, and other victuals make the rounds as well, appearing on tables that quickly begin filling with people. Somehow, someway, local musicians are pulled in to play and given a striking, energetic setlist to set the tone. The word gets out—party at the inn!
And boom: just like that, it's a party, and everyone's invited.
Early on, the offerings are relatively meager. The inn's food stores aren't completely bottomless after the shortages, to say the least, and there are a sight more Chosen (and local residents who also join in on the fun) than there is free food to toss at them. The drinks range from milk, water and juice to scuzzy, pisswater beer, which is a bit more plentiful. As the tavern portion of the inn fills with people, the music relatively ambient so that you can still hear the people at the table next to you talking, others bring their own food and drink, adding to the options on offer.
Others bring things like cards to play with, or dice and coins to gamble with, and set up spaces at tables toward the back. There's even an amateur fortune teller, heavy emphasis on amateur. Maybe you've got some party games of your own in mind, or you're a natural-born performer and want to hit the stage. Maybe you'd rather just grab a pint and lurk in the corner doing some people-watching. Or maybe you're just hungry and want to stuff a bunch of cheese in your pockets for later. Either way, there's something here for everyone.
As evening wears on, the peaceful inn party blossoms into a proper block bash. Even if you're not the partygoing sort, it'd be a little difficult to ignore the sheer ruckus going on downstairs while you attempt to read quietly in your room. The music, chatter and laughter carries on down the street, attracting even more people. By this point, it seems as if the food and drinks have multiplied, thanks mostly in part to others showing up with their own offerings, Chosen and local alike. It's getting rowdy in a few places—the music's louder and livelier, people are dancing and singing, and the gambling/party games' stakes seem to just keep climbing higher and higher. It's a good time all around. If you're not the quiet, loner type, anyway.
Thinking of sitting this one out? Think again: somebody starts going around to all the rooms and knocking on the doors, calling out to come join the fun. By the time you get to the door, though, whoever's up here disturbing the peace is gone, but maybe you can track them down by their voice at some point and wring their neck later.
In addition to the escalating merriment, all this imbibing also has the added benefit of loosening a few lips. Now's your chance to pick up the latest Aldrip gossip! You might even hear tell of a few pesky monsters that need slaying, so if you want to jump on that bounty before anyone else gets to it, you better act quickly. (But maybe don't run out into the woods in the middle of the night to fight monsters while inebriated... or do, nobody's stopping you.)
Late into the night, the festivities are still going, and they're... messy. Fortunately the drinks and provisions seem to have run to the bottom of the barrel, so those that've been partying hard for hours are getting cut off whether they like it or not. The band's getting tired, the tempo of the music fluctuating. Some people might like to go to bed sometime soon, so maybe now it's time for the voices of reason to tell those still dancing on top of the tables to get down. And why is there a chicken in here? ...And oh no, somebody tell those guys to take that swordfight outside!! Yeeaaahh, maybe it's about time to shut this production down.
Or maybe not. Let the good times roll until the sun comes up! That's up to you.
Where: Aldrip inn
What: Open mingle log (with mod approval)!
Warnings: Nothing major anticipated, other than light (underaged) drinking and comic mischief, but PM me if any warn-worthy things happen and I can update this space.
Feel free to use this log as a completely open mingle for all characters new and old! There will be a few prompts below the cut, but you're free mess around with them or come up with your own ideas for toplevels, and tag around as you please.
Nestled in the heart of the quaint town of Aldrip, the inn, formally known as The Inn, has housed the Chosen of Expiation since their initial arrival. In spite of the occasional influx of new Chosen, they've dedicatedly provided rooms, food and drink, and basic amenities without buckling—even during the food shortages and other issues that have plagued the town. Of course, the Chosen have been no slouches themselves, repaying the hospitality with mercenary work, hunting and fishing, cooking, completing odd jobs, and much more to help bolster the economy. Even those, er, less magnanimous sorts have benefitted from this give-and-take, although there are those that prefer their living space to be a bit more solitary (or perhaps cave-ier) that might not have noticed as much.
In the days to follow, most won't be able to recount exactly how The Party started. The true story is that one particular new arrival, after having spent a day or two scouting the area out and, deciding it's chill enough, opted to do what he does best: be a public menace. What is known is that rounds of drinks start getting ordered and handed out, and soon platters of cheese, fresh bread, and other victuals make the rounds as well, appearing on tables that quickly begin filling with people. Somehow, someway, local musicians are pulled in to play and given a striking, energetic setlist to set the tone. The word gets out—party at the inn!
And boom: just like that, it's a party, and everyone's invited.
Early on, the offerings are relatively meager. The inn's food stores aren't completely bottomless after the shortages, to say the least, and there are a sight more Chosen (and local residents who also join in on the fun) than there is free food to toss at them. The drinks range from milk, water and juice to scuzzy, pisswater beer, which is a bit more plentiful. As the tavern portion of the inn fills with people, the music relatively ambient so that you can still hear the people at the table next to you talking, others bring their own food and drink, adding to the options on offer.
Others bring things like cards to play with, or dice and coins to gamble with, and set up spaces at tables toward the back. There's even an amateur fortune teller, heavy emphasis on amateur. Maybe you've got some party games of your own in mind, or you're a natural-born performer and want to hit the stage. Maybe you'd rather just grab a pint and lurk in the corner doing some people-watching. Or maybe you're just hungry and want to stuff a bunch of cheese in your pockets for later. Either way, there's something here for everyone.
As evening wears on, the peaceful inn party blossoms into a proper block bash. Even if you're not the partygoing sort, it'd be a little difficult to ignore the sheer ruckus going on downstairs while you attempt to read quietly in your room. The music, chatter and laughter carries on down the street, attracting even more people. By this point, it seems as if the food and drinks have multiplied, thanks mostly in part to others showing up with their own offerings, Chosen and local alike. It's getting rowdy in a few places—the music's louder and livelier, people are dancing and singing, and the gambling/party games' stakes seem to just keep climbing higher and higher. It's a good time all around. If you're not the quiet, loner type, anyway.
Thinking of sitting this one out? Think again: somebody starts going around to all the rooms and knocking on the doors, calling out to come join the fun. By the time you get to the door, though, whoever's up here disturbing the peace is gone, but maybe you can track them down by their voice at some point and wring their neck later.
In addition to the escalating merriment, all this imbibing also has the added benefit of loosening a few lips. Now's your chance to pick up the latest Aldrip gossip! You might even hear tell of a few pesky monsters that need slaying, so if you want to jump on that bounty before anyone else gets to it, you better act quickly. (But maybe don't run out into the woods in the middle of the night to fight monsters while inebriated... or do, nobody's stopping you.)
Late into the night, the festivities are still going, and they're... messy. Fortunately the drinks and provisions seem to have run to the bottom of the barrel, so those that've been partying hard for hours are getting cut off whether they like it or not. The band's getting tired, the tempo of the music fluctuating. Some people might like to go to bed sometime soon, so maybe now it's time for the voices of reason to tell those still dancing on top of the tables to get down. And why is there a chicken in here? ...And oh no, somebody tell those guys to take that swordfight outside!! Yeeaaahh, maybe it's about time to shut this production down.
Or maybe not. Let the good times roll until the sun comes up! That's up to you.
no subject
[He steels himself, wincing slightly before he takes another pull from his mug.
It is better than nothing, he supposes.]
Perhaps this will serve as inspiration to learn. That said, you do seem rather at home here.
[It's a compliment, really.]
no subject
[she smirks a bit.]
Been hanging out in a bar since I was a kid. Before I went to jail, anyway.
no subject
[It's precisely why he spends so much time in them himself, drinks aside. Information can flow as freely as the wine, if one knows what to ask.]
We may well have more in common than one might think at first glance. I will admit, compared to most prisons, this one does have nicer accomodations.
no subject
she doesn't mind it at all.]
No shit. This is like fucking heaven, comparatively speaking. Not that I wanna screw our chances of shit not hitting the fan eventually or anything, but... so far so good.
no subject
[He lifts his glass of pisswater beer to her in toast.]
I wouldn't go so far as to say "so good," but tolerable at the very least. [He smirks, raising an eyebrow.] What were you in for, then?
[TIME FOR PRISON STORIES]
no subject
[she lifts hers in toast too, before she takes a long drink of it.
but then she considers him, wondering if she should say something wild and outrageous, or something closer to the truth.]
Bombing. Killed some people in the blast.
[... she wasn't the cause of it, though. and they had had to scramble to find a charge when Marcus showed up at the prison with her, so. why not bend the truth or lie entirely about it.]
You?
no subject
That would certainly do it, I imagine.
[There's no judgement in his voice, at the very least— whatever her reasons were, they're her own. It's not as though plenty of people haven't died by his hand.
He goes on to give an easy smile, as if quite pleased with himself.]
I'm a sky pirate. In my line of work, there's a certain degree of pride in having a bounty on one's head.
no subject
[she eyes him up and down, though.]
You look kinda fancy for being a pirate, though -- where's your eyepatch?
[and she'll be getting another drink and snickering, because she thinks she's fucking hilarious.]
no subject
Eyepatch. Well, they're certainly not unheard of among the less fashionable sorts.
[He's seen a fair few eyepatches on the pirates of Balfonheim, certainly. He shakes his head, tipping his glass towards her.]
Sky pirates are rather knowing for cutting dashing, romantic figures.
no subject
Right.
What's the difference, then? And don't tell me it's because it's air vs sea, that much is pretty damn obvious.
no subject
[Laced thick with sarcasm, though he's clearly quite amused.]
I suppose that depends on who you ask. Some will say there isn't one at all, but I rather think we sky pirates are a more stylish lot. Explorers, rather than mere thieves.
[There is, of course, a lot of thievery involved.]
no subject
[she shrugs.]
Eh, to each their own. Can't really say I can look down on a bunch of thieves that much.