2015-10-17- Of Drinks and Deities

From TwistedMUCK
Jump to: navigation, search


Of Drinks and Deities

Summary: When a fruitless search for harley ends in a trip to the UR, no one expected that religion would be the hot topic.



Who: Urus, Gogron, Zelgadis
When: October 17, 2015.
Where: Usual Restaurant


Gogron-icon.gifUrus-icon.gifZelgadis-icon.gif

The information contained within this log is to be considered information gained Out of Character (OOC).
This information may not be used as In Character (IC) knowledge or in roleplay unless it has been learned in-game or permission has been granted by the parties involved.

Questions should be directed to staff.


Morning, yet another day in paradise, or at least twisted. The crisp morning air floats on a light breeze, causing a slight chill outside. The sun now peeking up over the horizon, the swirl of pink and yellow filling the sky. This would be a pretty scene to just take in and enjoy. That is If you didn't stay up all night patrolling for Harley Quinn or any other people of interest. For Urus, this was just a colorful end to a fruitless night. The black sweatshirt and sweatpants he is wearing over his usual garb is stifling, layering on top of other clothing and fur. Disappointedly he walks into the Usual restaurant, the black garb covering most everything but his paws, hands and his slightly charred muzzle that pokes out from under the dark hood. He takes a seat at the bar and looks down it hoping that there are conversational companions after a boring hunt.

Zelgadis might not make the best of 'conversational parters' neccessarily, but he's...there at least. Sipping sake in the corner of the bar proper, a hood adorns and subsequently covers a good majority of his face as well. Boy, this guy needs some originality, huh? He does make the motions of peering over at the new arrival with a mild look on what of his face remains visible,

A brisk, brusque chill that does interesting things to evil-touched armor. When one burns the heart of a daedra into the raw living metal, does it feel pain? It certainly conveys cold- warmed by body heat, undoubtedly, but quickly crisped by cold. He shivers in the depths of his armor, his eyes squinted faintly against the faint wind. The cheery colors of the light just made it all so much worse, and he found himself grimacing, bracing his shoulders against the chill before the Usual Restaurant offers it's solace against both cheery colors and chill, and then he's in, releasing a slow breath into his hands. "Bah, colder than a Nord's tit out there. Blasted weather."

Urus takes a hand and whisks away the hood covering his hyena like head and turns his head to the one who sits near. "Hello, who are you, If I can ask" he says in his normal, thick Russian accent. He reaches under the sweatshirt and pulls out his submachine gun and places it on the bar. He then takes said garment off, Revealing the furred but slightly bulky body underneath, along with the bandolier and a small plastic communicator. That's the exact reason why he bought the clothing in the first place; it hid his more war like gear from those who are more cautious. He turns when he hears the orc's complaint. "Try space some time, that is colder than. . . " He pauses to try to figure out what the man had just said. After a second though easily gives up and finishes "whatever you just said" If there was one thing that he had learned in the short time he had been there was that there were a LOT of different ways of speaking depending on what realm you came from.

Zelgadis tilts his head slightly, regarding Urus as he goes through the motions. At the time, he says nothing. Addressing the firearm with a curt glance, he doesn't seem TERRIBLY plussed by it, at the moment. Looking back over at Urus he seems to be about to respond to the question at hand when he decides to once again pause as Urus responds to Gogron's prior assertation. He finally offers a hard to see, half-smile of sorts and speaks, "Zelgadis Greywers. At your service."


He's never seen a gun before but he can damn well recognize a weapon. That axe, the one he just produced? Big, glowing faintly, red. Reddish. Red-ish. Bit red. Glowing. Nasty looking, big two handed motherfucker. His eyes narrow, and he watches the yena warily, his face going through thin lips and thinner eyes for a long moment. Green skin poky toothed guy is seriously eyeing him, those surprisingly pretty burnished golden eyes locked on him. "Not sure what space is, unless you mean the general air about us, and it currently IS what is making my armor hate being worn by me, friend." He's still holding that axe, and really contemplating splitting skull, by the expression on his face. Is he, smiling?


Urus has taken off the baggy sweatpants by this time, revealing the rest of his gear. He puts the black garb down on the floor at the foot of his stool as he sits back down. As Urus listens to the orc, and notices the stare, he is unimpressed. He has tried to stare down a war god and survived. This thing can't be much worse. Then something intrigues him " your armor, does not like you?" he then shouts to ask any of the patrons in the restaurant, part jokingly but mostly serious. "when did armor developed feelings, does anyone know?" he leaves his gun where it lies despite the now two people staring at it. Zelgadis soon goes quiet as he becomes absorbed in his own thoughts.

A bit of a barking laugh, trailing off in something... just a bit confused. "I, keep forgetting none of you are, what could be considered local. Erm. No. It has the heart of a being of, great darkness melted into the metal itself. While it does not have a mind or soul per-se, if any armor had an opinion, it'd be- okay well if any would, it'd probably be the dwemer armors, come to think of it. That stuff's probably haunted. BUT, barring that, for negativity? Daedric." But then there's shouting around and there is, for a moment, a look, a hint, a spark, a flare of just, absolute, madness, there. This man isn't proud, he isn't arrogant, isn't fight-happy or short tempered. He's... insane.

Those impressive nostrils flare, and he flashes a sneer of a smile. "Oh. A joke. Haha. Very funny, yes." His fingers creak on the handle of the axe.


Urus guessing that the orc finding it funny is a good thing, insanity or not, decides to join in with his hyena like laugh, the cackle that all antelope learn to fear. " come, sit" he beacons as he pats the area of counter next to him. "Tell me one thing first though." He inquires "have you heard of a girl named Harley Quinn?" raising an eyebrow, hoping to get something useful. He orders up two shots of vodka deciding that it may be a good Idea to make a few friends outside of TASK. What better way to do that than buying someone a drink?

The axe comes out here, and the butt THUDS on a nearby table. He's sort of, quivering? Maybe he's not finding it funny. Maybe not. Probably not. His words were actually still amicable, but it's a shivery, forced thing. "I don't know them. I don't know anyone but the Lord Kotal and a handful of drifting dreams." His hand creaks on the axe, but after a bit he walks towards the bar and, laboriously, manages to sit down on his stool. His eyes are red rimmed and just a bit crazy. "Don't know no Harley Quinn. Only Lord Kotal, who has delivered me from this place and given my life structure. He has told me I am not fallen, and I cannot doubt the word of a god." A deep, shaky breath.

The fact that the Orc had no info on Harley is not surprising, it seems to be a recurring event. Ask about Harley, absolutely no information. Oh well, sooner or later he will find her, and when he does there is going to be hell to pay. He listens carefully, until Kotal's name is brought up. He snickers, then bursts into hyena like laughter again for about 5 or 6 seconds. "whoo! I am sorry, but believe me when I say that Kotal is not best man to listen to. He is most arrogant, self-serving man I have met. He makes me look good in comparison. He may be a god, but he is far from someone to trust for long." as he finishes the statement the drinks come by. He holds one for himself, and one out to the orc, raising his in toast. "To the art of Battle!"


The axe is up, the butt going WHUNPHTK upon the edge of the bar, his lips pulled back. And you know what? His gums are purple. It's kinda cool actually. Purple gums. Oh and also snarling totally insane rageface orc, there's that too. "YOU. WILL. NOT. /SPEAK/. OF. HIM. SO." Okay the axe is in more of a chop-you-up position now, and there are little flecks of saliva, churned to a bit of foam at the edge of his mouth. Looks like he's spilled his shot. How rude! But he's lost for the moment to the intricacies of social mores. "You will show obeisance to he who is known as the Lord of Battle, you WILL rescind your words, or face the concequences of your actions!" For a man who professed not to be overly religious before he supposedly died and came back sure seems invested now. Huh.


Great now Kotal has a fan club, this place couldn't get ANY better. . . Urus decides to be matter of fact with the Orc, the last thing he needs is to expend energy on battle about Kotal of all things. Despite this though the hyena responds to the orcs anger with a bit of his own."Do you see this!" he says pointing at the massive hand shaped burn on his muzzle. " I was given mark by Kotal Kahn himself, I am sorry if truth hurts your fantasy of gods that are always benevolent, but believe me when I tell you that he does not give Rat's ass about us. I asked once, why I died and came here. None of my concern, was verbatim what he told me." He knocks back his shot as he finishes his rant."there are many gods around here. Some have been better than others. . . " Urus replaces the sling that holds his submachinegun where it usually lays.


"Benevolent? Benevolent? He is a GOD of BATTLE you silly pup! Where is room for /benevolence/ there! Arrogant mongrel!" He is all snarls and flicked dismissive hand gestures, his fist hitting the bartop. WHUNK! "He gave, a damn, about me. What god would do that? Do you scorn him for spurning you? Perhaps you failed to show him the deference he deserved." A dismissive gesture, his breathing heavy. And then a hand, across his face, curled into claws and a snarl, muffled. "I can't- I can't. Too much, too... long... ngh."

"The god is just as mortal as you or me, he is the one who should learn." Urus remarks and is actualy heated in the argument in religion. Which is very strange for him, but the personal connection to the person in question is feeding the anger. the dismissive gestures forces him to roll his eyes, but then he does a double take when the Orc seems to be having a personal problem. His full attention and new curiosity raised, the Hyena waits, hoping to see what sort of mystery the orc is trying to hide.

His snarl is weak, his eyes mostly closed, a hand before his face. His mutter is thin and a little reedy. "It matters, not, right now. If he has, umbrage with you he will, have, umbrage with you himself." He looks towards the door, a certain strange manic shiver to him. "I have to go." A laborious swallow, his throat jumping, and he grunts, looking at the hyenaman with wide, slightly dilated eyes.

As Gogron dismisses himself there is a look of burrowing curiosity from Urus. A penetrating look that attempts to find what he is looking for, but to no avail. There is something about this Orc, this warrior that he fears within himself. He will have to meet up again with this heavily armored warrior. For the first time his curiosity of the realm has overwhelmed him. He is going to be pondering this man for a while. He lets the man go, for now. If it is something to which Urus knows well in himself to get enrobed in anger or combat to the point of senselessness, he may be able to help this green figure. This is an expedition to do on one's own time. If anyone would know, it's the one they were fighting about. . .Kotal.



You are not allowed to post comments.


Personal tools