The Fat King Tavern and Inn // CLOSED

Shadul snarled and thrashed like an animal in pain. “You fucking bastard! I could’ve done it myself with a quarter of the pain!” She roared.

Divine had vanished for a bit, reappearing at the sound of screams. "Wow, only been working together for an hour or so and you've already started to kill each other." They hummed, looking at their nails.

Shadul snarled and thrashed like an animal in pain. “You fucking bastard! I could’ve done it myself with a quarter of the pain!” She roared.

"Maybe so, but now we can at least get you to a doctor who knows how to stitch you back together, unless you also want to take care of that yourself?" Yama asked. He wrapped gauze around Shadul's leg, secure but not tight. Levitating a bottle out of his toolbox, he uncorked it and poured a bit of cream onto his hand.

"The alcohol disinfected it, and this stuff should not only numb the pain, but also provide a barrier against infection. I have no idea what the hell's in this bottle, but I do know that my surgeon friend saved my life with this shit," Yama said, carefully rubbing it on top of the gauze and letting it soak in. Shadul immediately felt a soothing relief, so whatever he used was certainly potent.

“I’ll fucking do it myself.” Shadul hissed. “I didn’t want your help, I don’t want your help. Not to be a bitch- but definitely to be a bitch- don’t fucking heal me again. I never wanted you to. Thanks, Yama, you’ve fucked me up completely and shat all over my traditions.” Shadul hissed, standing up. “Get bit.”

(Fuck)

Fuck, Yama thought. A look of harsh realization crossed his face, but he had a feeling that saying "sorry" wasn't gonna cut it.

Shit, shit, shit, God-fucking-dammit! the Half-Dragon screamed in his mind. He was unaware of whatever traditions Shadul had, but he really should have listened when she said he could handle it. In trying to help her, he completely steamrolled over whatever plan she made for herself. Unfortunately, this was a terrible habit of his.

Then again, I wasn't kidding when I said I was more bull-headed than her, Yama thought, but that only made him feel sick to his stomach. He quickly packed his tools and sent his toolbox back to the forge. As it disappeared into the ground, Yama stood up and turned back to Shadul.

"I'm…" he croaked. "… so sorry." He opened his mouth to continue speaking, but the glare in the Half-Orc's eyes made him think better of it. Without a word, he unfurled his wings and took off into the sky and back into town.

(she’s surprisingly quick to forgive, if that helps! especially to people she feels like she’s committed to- like guild members)

Shadul grunted as she walked off, hauling her battle axe in tow. She made her way through town, stepping into the swampy bayou on the outskirts. An alligator lurked through the water, its driftwood-esque facade ready to entrap and devour any animal that would fall for it.

The day after the orc raid, Yama spent most of his time in town and as far away from Shadul as possible. He decided to buck up and continue selling his wares as he intended, but whenever he noticed Shadul out of the corner of his eye or walking down the same street as him, the Half-Dragon would duck away or try and move his current conversation somewhere else if possible. People began to notice his wariness around her, an older woman finally asking him what was wrong when Shadul accidentally brushed up against him during a business transaction on a crowded street.

Yama ended up pouring out his heart on the matter over a cup of tea, the woman listening intently.

"I feel like a complete jackass and I have no idea what to do!" Yama said, slumping deeper into the armchair in the woman's living room.

"Well, maybe she's had time to cool down a bit," the woman said. "You should try to apologize again. Tell her like you told me, minus the coarse language maybe."

"Oh, uh… My apologies," Yama said.

"Simply say that you were unaware of her customs and were merely trying to help. You should have asked, but I'm sure she can understand that it was the heat of the moment and you weren't certain if she was going to be alright," the woman said, taking a sip of her tea.

"Well… I'll try it! Thank you very much for hearing me out!" Yama said. He pulled out the shiny blunderbuss he was trying to sell and handed to her over the table. "Here, for ten gold and no more."

"Oh, I couldn't possibly!" the woman cried. "You still need to make a living, don't you?"

"Ma'am, with all due respect, I'm a Half-Dragon. My family is loaded. I do this as a hobby, and I couldn't possibly charge you that much after what you did for me," Yama replied. "What was your name again?"

"Muriel, dear."

"Well then, Miss Muriel, I hope you have a wonderful day! That blunderbuss will never let you down, I swear by my work."

And with that, Yama left Muriel's house and went to the Fat King Tavern in an effort to ameliorate his situation with Shadul.

Shadul sat at the bar, deep in a clearly amusing conversation with a few other half-orcs and dwarves. They were loud and raucous, like every other patron, and drank like absolute monsters. Shadul held up the severed head hanging from his belt, her and her group’s voices turning into triumphant roars at the sight of the trophy. She had gone out that night with her cleaver to harvest the heads, keeping them in a large basket in her home until she was ready to clean them. The container was woven from enchanted wicker, a spell placed on it to ward off any.. rotting smells.

“I’m telling you, they got me good, but I got ‘em better!” Shadul barked, throwing her head back in laughter before taking a gulp of her beer.

"She did," Yama said from behind her as he entered the bar. "They kept nearly fifteen feet away from her after the first few. They took one look at her and decided to go pick fights with people smaller than they were, the cowards!"

“You’re damn right they did! Lookie here, boys, we got ourselves an eye witness! Can’t call me a liar now, eh?” Shadul didn’t bother bringing up her leg- that was for a time when she wasn’t drunk and having fun.

“Pull up a stool, Yama. These sorry sons-of-bitches missed out on a good fight yesterday!” She laughed, clapping her hands together. Shadul’s double-headed axe was strapped to her back, crusted with dried blood she hadn’t the time to wash off.

"Alright!" Yama said, hesitantly at first until he realized that Shadul was inebriated.

Should I tell her? he thought. Nah, she's already drunk and having fun. She might not even remember me saying anything depending on how this goes.

"I tell you what, though, she may have done a bit of the heavy lifting, but I certainly pulled my weight. Beat the shit out of a few of 'em, especially those cavalry guys. Since when did those guys get their hands on Direboars and grizzly bears?!"

“Since a thousand years ago, Yama. Tellin’ you now, don’t underestimate how those damn orcs’ll win a battle. Once saw a guy get his arm cut off and then proceed to use it as a weapon ‘fore passin’ out from blood loss. Crazy shit.” Shadul cackled, throwing her head back to polish off her mug of beer.

"Crazy, but not as crazy as the time I had to make a leg – I'm a weaponsmith," Yama said, turning to the rest of the table. "…For a woman who worked in a brothel. Lost her leg in a railroad accident years ago, but she wanted the leg made from pure ivory and had a fuckin' gun inside that would activate with a bolt on her leg! Anyone tried to mess with her, and they got a hell of a surprise, the fuckers!"

Yama loved being able to recount his own travels, and he found that he could mesh with Shadul and her compatriots easily.

“Fucking wild!” Shadul barked, slamming her mug down on the counter and sliding it over to the barmaid. “Fill me up, wouldn’t ya, miss?” She winked at the woman, turning back to the group once she got her mug back.

“Ronta here is a fisherman b’ trade- I’m tellin’ ya, half’a his stories are so unbelievable I’on even know what to believe!” The half-orc clapped a hand onto the shoulder of a dwarf. He raised his mug, winking at the group.

“Well, then I know I’ve done my job! Let me tell you folks about the demon fish of these here swamps…” Ronta began his old tale, beer slinging in his cup and he drank and talked.

(yep!)

“Ah, Caspian! Over here!” Shadul grinned, beckoning her over. Ronta was still deep into his fisherman’s tales, each one becoming out outrageous and unbelievable than the last.

“Ronta here’s bein’ a lyin’ bastard! Demon fish ny ass!” Shadul thrust her mug towards the dwarf, the liquid inside sloshing as she did so. “Fisherman’s stories!”

“Pull up a chair, lass! There are so many demon fish in these here swamps I’m surprised people ar’nt killed by ‘em daily!” The dwarf cackled, taking a swig of his beer. “Last one I saw was big ‘s a juvenile alligator and had eyes like the Great Father himself! I’m thinkin’ he was possessed, you see.”

“Ronta, you’re scaring the girl! Quit with all your tall tales!” Shadul scolded, tugging on the dwarf’s ear. “He’s telling stories, Caspian, there are no possessed fish in the swamp.”

Ronta clapped his hands together. “Tha’s wha’ I’m saeyin’! I’ve seen ‘em with my own two eyes!” He waved the barmaid over. “Miss! A refill for a weary fisherman, yeh?”