Buncha Idiots in a Tavern
- Thread starter Chickenspleen
- Start date
"Sorry, I'm afraid the ceramics shop closed down last week."
The barmaid delivers a tankard of ale.
"Finally, someone normal comes in here."
"Well, If yer really so interested in the stars, I suggest you talk t' the town alchemist. She's a part time astronomer, I hear. Or is it astrologist? Heck, I don't know. And hey, be sure to stop back here on yer way back. I could use someone of your size for a project I got goin'."
"Some old guy has got some adventure thing he's doing. He says there's treasure, but between you and me I think that's all a load of horseshit."
As she says this, the barmaid brings Tirin another drink.
"It's not really allowed or anything, but this one's on me."
"You sure you haven't had enough? I'm encouraged to deny customers too many drinks, you know. Encouraged, but not forced."
The janitor walks in, drawn by the sound of the pictures falling to the ground. He takes a long look at Jack and goes back to sweeping, grumbling something about kids and their bad puns.
Alan Rickman finishes the drink.
"I must get more potions for Hogwarts so I can beat John McClane."
Alan Rickman begins looking for an alchemist.
"I must get more potions for Hogwarts so I can beat John McClane."
Alan Rickman begins looking for an alchemist.
Richard floats over to Alan , after grabbing a number of empty glasses from the bar. "I understand you are interested in potions?," he said, the glass floating near the tip of his head.
Richard suddenly spun in the sir, the glasses rotating with him, until he hung suspended ballside down pointing into the glasses.
Suddenly, a series of multicolored streams burst forth from his dick, and he directed each into a different glass, spinning this way and that until they were all filled with his bizarrely and inexplicable colored excrement.
Richard turned to face Alan and flashed a smile, beaming at Alan seeking approval. Unfortunately, due to him lacking a face, it was sometimes hard for others to discern his non-existing facial expressions, including beaming.
Richard suddenly spun in the sir, the glasses rotating with him, until he hung suspended ballside down pointing into the glasses.
Suddenly, a series of multicolored streams burst forth from his dick, and he directed each into a different glass, spinning this way and that until they were all filled with his bizarrely and inexplicable colored excrement.
Richard turned to face Alan and flashed a smile, beaming at Alan seeking approval. Unfortunately, due to him lacking a face, it was sometimes hard for others to discern his non-existing facial expressions, including beaming.
Alan Rickman studies the 'potions'.
(Looking to Zircom or Chicken for help here.)
(Looking to Zircom or Chicken for help here.)
There appear to be six different glasses full of magical spooge.
The red glass seems to be a basic health potion.
The yellow glass seems to be a luck potion.
The green glass seems to be a powerful acid.
The blue glass seems to be a mana potion.
The purple glass seems to be a love potion.
The white glass seems to be...yeah, it's just semen.
Tirin smiled at the barmaid - who wouldn't, when brought a free drink? - but far more disarmingly than he had before. Liquor, it seemed, really lightened him up, and he took a lengthy swig before speaking, now in a tone that melded the blind excitement of a novice adventurer with the hard-won wisdom of a veteran.
"Well, so what if there's no treasure? The best thing to find on a journey is new friends and yourself. With that in mind... what say you 'n' I go talk to the old man, ditch this place, 'n' take s'more drinks for the road? If nothing else, it'll be a pleasant change of pace, and on the off chance there is any value to find, you can make a tidy profit. Sound like a plan?" He asked, grinning widely before polishing off his second drink. Whatever the traveller was, he was also damn thirsty.
"Well, so what if there's no treasure? The best thing to find on a journey is new friends and yourself. With that in mind... what say you 'n' I go talk to the old man, ditch this place, 'n' take s'more drinks for the road? If nothing else, it'll be a pleasant change of pace, and on the off chance there is any value to find, you can make a tidy profit. Sound like a plan?" He asked, grinning widely before polishing off his second drink. Whatever the traveller was, he was also damn thirsty.
"Look, while I'd love to just abandon my post, my boss is standing right there and I'd like to not piss him off today."
She indicates Master Recon.
The barmaid thinks about this for several seconds.
"Hey, Jerome," she calls to the janitor in the back, "could you cover for me? I'm gonna go do some adventurer shit!"
Jerome grumbles something about the tavern needing to hire more people as he sets up behind the bar.
"Yeah, sure, whatever.," grunts Jerome, filling a glass with absinthe and passing it to Tilia.
"Sweet," the stranger said with a smile, his hand darting out reflexively to snatch the glass of absinthe but stopping a few inches away, his understanding of what the green liquid is coupled with a look of disgust and irritation at Jerome - as though the janitor should know what he wanted to drink. "Get me a cold jugga rum'n'Coke or there'll be hell to pay. And for this lovely lady," he flicked two fingers toward the barmaid and turned to her, "whatever she'd like. Say, I haven't bothered t'ask: what's your name?"
"Hmm," say Alan Rickman. "I wonder what would happen if I drank all of these at once. Thank you, Richard."
Alan Drinkman mixes and drinks all the potions.
Except the semen one. He throws it behind him, and the small container strikes the Traveller (Tirin) in the back.
Alan Drinkman mixes and drinks all the potions.
Except the semen one. He throws it behind him, and the small container strikes the Traveller (Tirin) in the back.
Name: Future Tirin
Race: Canadian
Class: Tirin
Gender: Teal
Weapon of Choice: Time Powers, Tentacles, and Mod Edits
"Tirin!" A hooded figure called boldly from the doorway, interrupting all present conversation without regard. He drew back the cloth over his face to reveal an old, decaying, yet familiar face.
"My name is Tirin. I have come from the future to warn you-"
His poised, self-confident, dramatic bearing collapsed along with his knees, as he fell to the floor in a fit of coughing and heaving. A number of nearby residents immediately rushed to his aid, but he waved them off, and struggled back to his feet with all the dignity a man could muster. He turned to Tirin again, and went on as if nothing at all had happened, completely ignoring the pool of glistening blood and phlegm now congealing in front of him.
"-to warn you that you have to quit drinking, now. Immediately, and totally. Before it's too late." He finished, waving a frail, spindly, yellow-spotted hand in front of him with an air of finality.
"Scotch. Neat."
Jerome grumbles once again and pours two random drinks from behind him into a couple of glasses. It's pretty clear this guy isn't cut out for this line of work. The barmaid looks her drink up and down and hands it to Tirin.
"Look, I'm gonna go change out of my uniform, but I'll be right back." Before she ducks into a back room, she adds, "I'm Carren, by the way."
Suddenly, Tirin is hit in the back by a glass of semen.
The first effect Alan Feelman ricks is the strange sensation of having his intestines melted and then healed in short succession. It's an unnerving but strangely satisfying feeling. Alan Breatheman ricks in deeply as he begins to feel his mana wells replenish. He hadn't really expended any mana for the day, but the potion concoction manages to give a convincing illusion of rejuvenation. Next comes an unrelenting swell of luck, giving the illusion that everything Alan Seeman ricks is just a bit shinier and more gold-tinted. It really makes Alan Thinkman rick that he can get away with anything. Finally, Alan Loseman ricks himself in a deep, passionate love for the first person he looks at. This, of course, is Richard himself.
The younger Tirin seems to be a bit distracted by the thin coating of semen that now covers his clothes.
Tirin downed the drink Carren handed him - provided it wasn't absinthe - in a single quick chug, releasing a brief sigh as the unmixed liquor burned his throat. He didn't react for a moment when the bottle smashed against his back, instead opting to start (and finish off) the second glass; the man who threw it would still be dead in short order, after all.
When the scent of what was apparently semen reached his nose, he frowned. "Fuck that," he growled, eyes sparking with teal light. The cum staining his clothing and covering the floor floated into the air, while the glass around his feet lifted and restructured itself into a cup housing the foul liquid. He turned and pushed it backward in time, watching with a twitching eye as it slowly came to a rest in front of Alan Rickman.
"Your rick's run out, Alan Luckman," the man hissed. He looked then to the version himself claiming to be from the future, and scoffed. He'd seen this moment before, and knew how it played out. "Dumbass, it's never gonna be too late, it's just that staying drunk all the time makes it pretty easy to forget about using our powers. You might be "from the future", but remember that to us that means nothing - you're my past. Just revert yourself to... what, twenty years ago? You'll have had all the fun with none of the health problems. Now, do us a favor and murder Alan Rickman for getting jizz on my sweet cloak, then get the fuck out. If you stay around you're gonna spoil this entire adventure for both of us, and past spoilers are the shittiest kind of spoilers."
When the scent of what was apparently semen reached his nose, he frowned. "Fuck that," he growled, eyes sparking with teal light. The cum staining his clothing and covering the floor floated into the air, while the glass around his feet lifted and restructured itself into a cup housing the foul liquid. He turned and pushed it backward in time, watching with a twitching eye as it slowly came to a rest in front of Alan Rickman.
"Your rick's run out, Alan Luckman," the man hissed. He looked then to the version himself claiming to be from the future, and scoffed. He'd seen this moment before, and knew how it played out. "Dumbass, it's never gonna be too late, it's just that staying drunk all the time makes it pretty easy to forget about using our powers. You might be "from the future", but remember that to us that means nothing - you're my past. Just revert yourself to... what, twenty years ago? You'll have had all the fun with none of the health problems. Now, do us a favor and murder Alan Rickman for getting jizz on my sweet cloak, then get the fuck out. If you stay around you're gonna spoil this entire adventure for both of us, and past spoilers are the shittiest kind of spoilers."
"Oh Richard," says Alan Dickman. "Things have never been the same since you came into my life."
"Shut up!" Future Tirin snapped back. "Don't you get who you're talking to? I'm you, but with more knowledge and experience." He snapped his fingers. Everybody blinked, looked around, and tried to remember what had just happened.
...
It went something like:
"Tirin!" A hooded figure called boldly from the doorway, interrupting all present conversation without regard. He drew back the cloth over his face to reveal an old, decaying, yet familiar face.
"My name is Tirin. I have come from the future to warn you-"
His poised, self-confident, dramatic bearing was momentarily dropped, as he reached out to snatch a flying bottle of semen from midair. He tossed it casually back in the direction of Alan Rickman, and then returned to what he'd been saying.
"-to warn you that you have to quit drinking, now. Immediately, and totally. Before it's too late." He finished, waving a frail, spindly, yellow-spotted hand in front of him with an air of finality.
...
It went something like:
"Tirin!" A hooded figure called boldly from the doorway, interrupting all present conversation without regard. He drew back the cloth over his face to reveal an old, decaying, yet familiar face.
"My name is Tirin. I have come from the future to warn you-"
His poised, self-confident, dramatic bearing was momentarily dropped, as he reached out to snatch a flying bottle of semen from midair. He tossed it casually back in the direction of Alan Rickman, and then returned to what he'd been saying.
"-to warn you that you have to quit drinking, now. Immediately, and totally. Before it's too late." He finished, waving a frail, spindly, yellow-spotted hand in front of him with an air of finality.
Tirin scoffed at his junior's mistaken theatrics. "Come on, you know we can both remember the original timeline. You might be fooling the absolute jags, but even smart enough lessers can figure it out." He paused a moment, teal eyes glancing around the room. "Of course, it doesn't look like any of these will. If you claim t'be me from "the" future it doesn't matter. If you claim t'be me from our future, you're wrong."
He stepped forward bearing the compassionate smile of a teacher and healer, which precious few ever saw, and set a hand on the other Tirin's shoulder. His eyes cast brilliant teal light, and the feeble, jaundiced clone's flesh slowly cleared. The near-invalid's muscle, and with it strength of body, returned not long after, and the fat and scarring in his savaged liver lessened, then disappeared. "You've got a hell of a lot of power. Always try to think of better ways to use it. And think on this: aside from the very youngest, we're all from the future."
He stepped forward bearing the compassionate smile of a teacher and healer, which precious few ever saw, and set a hand on the other Tirin's shoulder. His eyes cast brilliant teal light, and the feeble, jaundiced clone's flesh slowly cleared. The near-invalid's muscle, and with it strength of body, returned not long after, and the fat and scarring in his savaged liver lessened, then disappeared. "You've got a hell of a lot of power. Always try to think of better ways to use it. And think on this: aside from the very youngest, we're all from the future."