Fandom Pokémon Rebirth Pt.1- IC [Closed]

[Paperface]

City of Menva - 19:27​

As the caravan approached the northern gate of Menva, the sun had already begun forfeiting its place in the azure skies to its nightly counterpart. Soon it would disappear behind the horizon. Allowing the sands time to cool off before the heat would steadily return starting the next sunrise. However, before surrendering, it would use the last of its time casting long shadows off the Hippowdonnies1 carrying the necessary supplies for the city’s survival with them. As well as a new batch of researchers that would replace those who’d been discouraged by the harsh conditions of the Millennium Vale. In a way, the lumbering beasts served as Menva’s veins and that which they carried as its lifeblood. Supplies to sustain the local population and new researches to provide the funds for said supplies. In return, they would receive the shelter needed to protect themselves from the sands. Or rather, that which called the sands home.

As the caravan passed through the sandstone gate, the nature of the city became more apparent than would be visible from outside its walls. Comparable to an oyster hiding a black pearl within, the real treasure of Menva being but a single building guarded by the simple residences and shops surrounding it. Serving as the proverbial shell to Menva’s black pearl. The ancient structure held a peculiar presence throughout the entirety of Menva. From the appearance of the structure to the glaring difference in building material, the building was different. Alien in a sense. If the building were alien, then the dome cresting it would serve as its eye. Watching over those wandering the dusty streets below. Unable to escape its gaze as its stature made it visible from every corner of the city.

Oftentimes the ancient dome would have a plethora of souls to watch over, but as the caravan halted amidst the bazaar to unload, the area had all but cleared out. The few people remaining being too preoccupied with securing the tents and stalls to pay attention to the arriving Hippowdonnies. However, the Pokémon cared little about the lack of attention. Collectively choosing to lay down onto the ground below their heavy feet. Taking their well-earned rest upon the bedding of dust covering the area. A silent suggestion to those riding atop their backs to further their way on foot.

As the party dismounted the resting Pokémon, a man finally took notice. A local, if to be assumed by the fine linen clothing covering his strong physique. Upon approaching the group he defaulted to addressing them in his native tongue. Speaking with an exotic accent and a tone of voice that suggested his message was an urgent one. The rather distressed man then followed with a hurried gesture towards one of the larger buildings within view of the bazaar. The sandstone walls and wooden supports of the structure were accented with painted patterns and colorful rafters hanging off the walls. Propped up with wooden poles at the corners to serve as shielding for the crates and pottery set out underneath. As the sun slowly set the building and its immediate surroundings remained dimly aglow by the warm light originating from within. Inviting any onlookers to come inside and take a break from the harsh desert.

1Plural provided by Stillsnow

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Mentioned: Noivian DevylCakes welian Zahzi Stillsnow Xcelgamer
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[Zahzi]

The room was shaky and dim, eyes everywhere. Watching. Waiting. Waiting to see what came next. You tried to move, only to find you were pinned to the floor, a lumbering creature above you. A Machamp of all things. A man chuckled in front of you, peering at your predicament. He shook his head, judging you wanting.
"You showed such promise, Caymen. A shame...But expected. No one here seemed to ever vouch for you anyway, so it's no great loss. Break him. Permanently."
You only had time to look from the man to the looming Pokemon above you as it grabbing onto your left arm- your dominant arm. And right about at the snap did you come to.​

That dream again. Great. Like he didn't have enough to deal with. Whatever. Once this job is done, he'd have enough money to buy his shop and all the psyche meds to the end of his days. Among the arriving group stood a man in an attire far different than the others. What appeared to be a repurposed duster with metal scraps being put to work as makeshift armor gleaned in what remained of the sun- Definitely not a researcher. The various pouches, pockets, and satchels around him made it clear he was prepared for something. When the local addressed the entire group, the lightless goggles looked down at them, seeming to just stare through the poor man with impunity. A dry grunt was the only response he gave before he began going with their instructions. He had assumed this was the author of the letter, or at least, an agent to them.

As the sun sank further beyond the horizon he reached down at his hip, opening a small window on the contraption resting on his belt. A light slowly illuminated his path as he continued forward. "You best be the one I'm here to see." he droned, looking to the man.
"Otherwise you'll find my lack of patience to your detriment."

A metallic scuttling could be heard behind the man, rushing through the crowd before jumping and landing on the man's back and climbing onto his shoulder, looking out at the sights, its glowing red eyes seeming to judge everything and everyone with disdain.
"Dremel." The man looked at the Durant on his shoulder. It glanced at him for a moment before returning to its observations, ignoring him.
"...Typical."

 

[Noivian]

Golden rays cast honeyed hues over the dunes of the desert, captivating Skye for the last portion of their journey to Menva. She quietly watched as the large Hippowdon trudged onwards through the sands. As they neared the gates of Menva, she couldn't help silently ooh'ing and aww'ing at the way light colored the sun-bleached sandstone a gentle amber hue, and reflected off the dome overlooking the city. Cirrus, her Eevee, hopped up onto her shoulder, ears twitching in excitement as the caravan made their way inside the gates and stopped shortly at what Skye could only assume was the center area of the city's bazaar. Immediately, her gut reaction was to run up to one of the locals and begin bombarding them with questions, but seeing as the majority of them appeared rather busy, she decided that was a bad idea.

As the Hippowdonnies moved to rest, Skye tentatively slipped off the back of the one she was riding, reaching up momentarily to tug down her pack. It was light, mostly just containing basic gear like notebooks, a map, snacks, the like. Whatever she might have needed if she'd gotten lost in a metropolitan setting. Nothing to prepare her for life out in the desert, exploring caves or ruins or spending hours at a dig site. She'd need a lot more heavier gear for that. But of what she did have, she reached into her bag, rooting around for a bit, before pulling out a small, plastic case. Moving around to the front of the Hippowdon she'd been on, she pulled opened up the case with a smile, and pulled out a blue-colored Poffin, showing it to the Pokemon. "My grandma made these," she explained, letting the creature smell the Poffin and decide if he wanted one. "You can have one if you want." If not the first, she'd put that one away and pull out another, differently colored Poffin, going through the flavors until the Hippowdon settled on one he liked. She left him with one Poffin and a gentle pat on the side of the head.

Moving to join the group, she watched as a man, a local by the looks of him, made a vague gesture to follow and moved towards a building. Initially, Skye frowned, uncertain who this was or why he was trying to get them to follow so urgently. Looking amongst the group of supposed researchers, she tried to gauge if anyone understood what had been said by the looks on their faces. A slight tugging on her shoulder alerted her that Cirrus wanted her attention, and as she turned her head to look at the small Pokemon, she also spotted the larger man they'd been traveling with following the local. He was part of the team, right? Again, she gave the rest of the researchers gathered around one of her signature confused looks, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder a the two departing men. "Are... are we supposed to go over there?" she asked in a low tone, though her feet already began following. She hung back a distance, but still followed close enough behind that she could be perceived as one of the group.

 

[welian]

Hugo found the trip to be quite pleasant so far. He had never been this far away from home, and while the Galar region had an arid zone, it was nothing like the beautiful expanse of a proper desert. Cartoons and video games always made deserts out to be boiling hot and inhospitable, but Hugo was comfortable after he had a face mask on to block out some dust, and a wide-brimmed hat to stave off the worst of the bright sun. Unfortunately, he was still a bit burnt from falling asleep through lunch, and also sweated right through his shirt, but that was normal for him as a field geologist.

And, just as Professor Palmer had asked, he had been taking lots of photos and sending them back to the university for his other classmates to enjoy. Unfortunately, reception had been spotty in places, so he would probably have to wait until they were settled into town for the night before sending the next three-hundred photos of the Hippowdon caravan trudging through the dunes.

Fascinating.

He tugged at the edge of his face mask and started chewing on a piece of bubble gum – not to be confused with the small pink rock he had in his hand, a humble piece of quartz he had picked up during a previous pit stop simply because he thought it looked neat. He bit down and –

Ah.

The gum was in his hand, not in his mouth.

Hugo looked around furtively at the rest of the traveling party and switched the gum and the rock under his mask, hoping no one saw that.

To his left, there was a scary-looking man with an equally frightening Durant. Somehow, Hugo didn’t think that guy would get very far with the locals. To his right, a cute woman with an equally cute Eevee. It seemed she didn’t know the local language either. That was fine. Hugo had a translation dictionary in his backpack, and while he knew he wouldn’t be holding any long conversations, he felt confident in his ability to ask where the toilet was, and inform people if the ball was red or blue.

“I heard here, and hurry,” he offered helpfully. “Or that could have been garlic powder. Uhm… Hold on…” He knelt on the ground, rifling through his backpack for the dictionary, his straw hat bobbing in the breeze. Was it in his suitcase? In the tent? He thought he had everything organized, but it looked like some errant and hungry Pokemon might have gone nibbling through the pockets.

((OOC: In this post, the reason the linguist is indispensable.))

 

[DevylCakes]

The atmosphere was heavy with heat and aridity—something Anai’is was unused to, though not entirely unfamiliar with. Having been to several different regions himself, he’d prepared as much as he could have for the environment but no amount of preparation could have braced him for the views of the desert. The sight before him was completely distinctive to that of his home. Where Wyndon was covered in greenery, architecture and technology, Menva differed entirely.

The warm color palette left him feeling a myriad of emotions between anxious and antsy. Closing his eyes, the man breathed in the dryness and tried to enjoy the gentle sway of the Hippowdon. Its weight shifted from side to side with each step, lending him no comfort and only more frustration. The anxiety clearly wasn’t going to dissipate, and Anai’is was left feeling itchy with irritation. This journey was taking far longer than he would have liked but he knew that there wasn’t any way to hasten the process.

Menva was not Wyndon and patience was required for this adventure to succeed.

A distraction was in order. Attempting to pass the time, Anai’is immersed himself with his thoughts and plans for the week. Just infinitesimal things such as how much of his gear had arrived prior to his arrival, what the conditions inside of his purchase were like, and just who all of his companions were. Had any of them heard of him? Did he know any of them? They’d only briefly seen each other when getting the caravan set up, but not much discussion had broken out since then.

Regardless, Anai’is had none of the answers he wanted or needed. Not that it particularly mattered as the buildings that had been cresting on the horizon were finally beginning to loom overhead. The transportation had ultimately come to its end and freedom could finally be achieved. For Anai’is, there was no hesitation in dismounting from the Hippowdon or from following after the man that was beckoning them closer to his newly purchased hotel. He didn’t need to know what the man was saying to know what was needed. At least, not until a very familiar voice drew his attention away.

Ahh, of course. Hugo.

Anai’is’ gaze immediately cut to the man kneeling on ground with his dictionary and found his body sharply following. He knew that voice. He knew that face. He knew that man.

He should have known Hugo would be invited. His brother was not only competent, he was outstandingly brilliant. Pride filled Anai’is heart as he stepped forward, his luxuriously patterned and vibrant clothes flowing richly with his movements as he closed the distance between them. Just barely waiting long enough for Hugo to stand, the Archeologist grasped his brother within his hands and pulled him forward into a warm and affection hug.

“Hugo,” he breathed, a smile beginning to creep onto his normally stern and aristocratic face. “I’m so pleased to know you were invited as well!”

 

[Stillsnow]

Macie Blaise​

Despite both being deserts, the Millennium Vale was pretty different from the Desert Resort in Unova. While the air here was actually letting the sand stay on the ground for the most part, it had opted to carry a little more heat with it instead. But by far the biggest difference between the two was their sizes. Compared to the mere route that was the Desert Resort, the sands of the Millennium Vale seemed endless, and Macie's activities during the journey to Menva only further supported that idea.

Presumably, like all the other people riding Hippowdonnies around her, Macie was on this trip for research—and the first thing she’d discovered was that the back of a Hippowdon was rounder than she’d imagined. In fact, it was so round that—when combined with the Pokémon’s swaying stomps—it was hard for the rather twiggy young woman to keep the contents of her towering, overflowing backpack from spilling out everywhere. Each gruelling minute on the Hippowdon’s back was host to Macie’s shaky murmurs and mumblings, her tense arms wrapped around her bag like a Komala to its log. She’d barely even noticed the sun going down, and it took the Hippowdon finally stopping to make her realise she’d arrived in Menva.

With the fear of her belongings getting trampled dissipating, Macie dismounted the Hippowdon and put her heavy backpack back on, only for sensory overflow hit her; she’d found herself inside the walls of a settlement as starkly opposite to the metropolitan Castelia City as a settlement could get. While she’d known Menva was an archaeologist’s dreamland beforehand, seeing the culture, the stalls and outfits made her jaw hit the floor almost as fast as it made her clammy hands clench up. Menva was real, it didn’t feel real but it was most definitely real. It was huge. It was confusing. It was exciting. It was scary.

It was new.

The edges of Macie’s lips perked up into a smile. The best way to deal with new things was by acting on familiarity, and no matter where you were in the world kindness was always appreciated.

Macie turned to face the now lounging Hippowdon; he’d trekked all the way through that harsh, endless desert just for her. She placed her hand on his snout and patted it lightly. “Thanks for working so hard,” she said, the Pokémon opening its mouth slightly in response. Hippowdonnies were supposed to be fearsome creatures, experiencing one respond to touch from a stranger so calmly made a few familiar thoughts claw their way into her mind, keeping her captive. After all, even Drapion were supposed to be afraid of these Pokémon.

Macie’s attention was stolen when she heard some chatter amongst the rest of her group, they were already away from their Hippowdonnies. She didn’t quite catch everything they’d said; there seemed to be a lot going on: foreign languages, assertive tones, questions and confirming names were all part of the conversation. The only thing Macie could specifically pick out for certain was that someone was asking for garlic powder—which she just so happened to have on her. Macie’s heart fluttered for a second, overpacking and overpreparing were just myths after all!

“Erm, hi! Hi!” Macie started when she caught up to the rest of the group, still fumbling around a side pocket of the giant pack on her back. “Did anyone, maybe, say they wanted some... g-garlic powder?” Macie tore her arm from her backpack, earnestly sticking it out in front of her with the small bottle of garlic powder clutched in her hand. It was a bit of an unusual request, sure, garlic powder in the streets of some random city at the start of the night, but that was what she’d heard. So long as she’d heard right then waltzing up to a bunch of strangers and holding garlic powder out to them—which would normally be almost as weird as requesting it—wasn’t weird at all. And she’d definitely heard right.

Most definitely.

 

[Xcelgamer]

Lilith was smiling happily, while she wasn't entirely used to it it made her happy for the two weeks she spent in the Lumiose Badlands. Sure the wind here was nowhere near as bad as route 13 and it was much hotter here than it was but she was still glad for the little bit of desert practice. As the Hippowndies moved about she smiled to herself as it reminded her of Gogoats and Rhyhorns she got to ride even if she had to balance a bit more due to how round the Hippowdons back was compared to the other two but compared to some of the others she was riding like a pro.

Jubilee and Ruby were sitting on a shoulder of Liliths each, Lilith didn't like keeping them in their balls as she preferred their company to any actual person. The Hippowndown slowly came to a full stop, she let others get off theirs first as she makes sure everything she had packed was still in there "Alright then everything is good to go" she said quietly to herself

Lilith walked ahead and listened to Hugo and Macie, just listening to the mess they were making of the language. She sighs again before stepping forward And puts her hand on the garlic powder pushing it down "Yes this person searching his bag did say garlic powder but the full context was that he wasn't sure if the person said here and hurry or garlic powder. Honestly it was a good try for someone just learning the language. However fully translated, he is saying that there is a sandstorm on its way and that us RESEARCHERS, need to get inside quickly. So stop standing around and get inside already." Lilith rolls her eyes at the two messes and just walks ahead heading inside the building.

 

[Paperface]

City of Menva, Hollow Sands Inn - 19:53​

Despite the obvious language barrier, the man seemed slightly less tense as the party decided to follow after him. Prompting him to quickly lead them to the building he’d pointed at moments ago. As he held the door open, allowing the party to enter, he noticed the few stragglers who’d rather engage in a cuddle session and passing around condiments than heading inside for their safety. Approaching Macie and the two brothers, he raised his voice. Frantically pointing towards the building’s entrance in the hopes his raised voice would finally convey the urgency of his message.

Walking through the door the party entered a sizable, rectangular space lit up with warm, inviting lights. A necessary commodity as the only windows providing natural light seemed to be located to either side of the entrance. With the large L-shaped bar located straight ahead and both the left and right side of the space occupied with tables, it was easy to determine this space served as a bar for both the locals and those renting a room upstairs alike. Despite also serving locals, the patrons occupying the building appeared to mainly be researchers, tourists, and adventurers. The few people that – based on their apparel – appeared to be locals seemed to express an unwillingness to engage with the ‘outsiders’ based on their general expressions.

Despite it being early in the evening, the place was packed with people. The bar, while sizable, was only manned by one frustrated barkeeper. The man seemed to struggle to keep the dozen patrons seated at the bar content while simultaneously ordering a lone Dusclops around. The Ghost-Type seemed to be the only server handling the tables packed with people – some with their own Pokémon – loudly discussing their endeavors of the day. Their loud chatter was only slightly drowned out by the calm tunes of a musician playing from her makeshift stage next to the stairs in the right corner of the room. Despite the ample distraction provided by the packed room, chatter, and music, a keen eye would sense multiple people were taking notice of the entering party. Most of which would quickly return to minding their own business. Yet, a select few took lasting interest.

An entire table in the back right of the room had halted their card game to observe the newcomers with interest. Not shying away from staring whether their presence was noticed or not. On the other end of the room, sitting at a table by his lonesome with only his Pokémon at his side, an older man pointed towards the party before his arm fell back down onto the wooden table. Spilling the remaining liquor left in the glass before him over the hardwood as his hand landed against it. The man, seemingly unfazed by the spilled drink, swaying in his seat as he attempted to wake up the Combusken seated at his side. To no avail, as the Pokémon appeared to be more inebriated than his already plastered trainer.


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[Zahzi]

The man looked around the room, the number of people clearly not to his liking. Too many possibilities for things to go wrong. As to what he was planning, even he was not sure anymore. Perhaps just how his mind operated after all these years. The music was...Tolerable. At least wasn't that pop trash that became so popular when he was incarcerated. He made a point to trash every single radio when he was still in that prison...
But enough about the good old days.

The idea to have a Ghost Pokemon help tend a bar was...An interesting idea, to say the least. One rogue idea from them and every passed out drunk would be reduced to a simpering mess for the next month. Bad idea? No, that's a brilliant one. Terror was always a great motivator, after all. Take the drunk with the equally drunk fire chicken. If everyone knew the ramifications of being drunk enough to pass out being nightmarish visions of their dreams being devoured, well, there would be a lot more conservation in their cups.

Out of everything what caught his attention the most was the group staring down the newcomers, and evidently, him. He stared back at them, a silent malice seeming to radiate from his posture. Dremel looked to him, tilting his head and looking where he was, staring down the group with a similar threatening flavor as the man approached the group, looming over them.

"What?"​

 

[Noivian]

A quiet "Oh," sounded from Skye upon hearing someone in the group properly translate what was being said. That made more sense than garlic powder. Not wanting to get caught out in the sandstorm, Skye took little hesitance further towards entering the bar. Inside was a cacophony of noise, and the fact that Skye had not heard the obvious sounds of a bar from the outside frankly surprised her. Then again, Skye hadn't been to bars much, as her studies and research never truly afforded much time for leisure. As such, the sounds of the rowdy patrons was nearly deafening to her usual world of calm and quiet. The odors of sweaty bodies who'd gone just a bit too long without showers, as well as the sticky rank of spilled alcohol and maybe other fluids that didn't go down as easy wafted from the bar. Music twined itself through the air, meandering melodies instantly capturing the researcher and drawing her eye to the makeshift stage. Immediately, Skye's mind flipped from the uncomfortable mindset of leisure and relaxation in a bar (which she doubted she could ever truly accomplish) to the familiar and comfortable mindset of work mode.

If there was ever a way to convey local legends and fables, it was through popular folk songs.

Stepping closer to the stage, Skye watched and listened to the musician as she made her way through the song. She would predominantly listen to the lyrics of the song being played, trying to determine if she could understand them. Granted, the noise of the bar took away from her ability to actually hear the song, but it would also become a problem if she could not understand the language being spoken in the song. For that, she might have to employ the help of the lady outside who seemed to know what was being said. When the song was over, Skye clapped her hands in applause briefly, and tried to flag down the singer as if asking for a request. When the musician was within speaking range, Skye asked, "Is there a popular folk song from around here? Anything to do with Pokemon? I'd like to hear something local."

Hopefully this musician understood Skye's language.

 

[welian]

If there were a 4k replay clip of Hugo’s face, you would be able to pinpoint the exact frame in which his hopes and dreams – the ones immediately pertaining to this expedition, at least – came crashing down around him.

“I – I wasn’t – “ Hugo stammered, flustered, pushing his step-brother Anai’is off of him. I wasn’t invited, he wanted to say. I was a replacement.

“I wasn’t aware there was a sandstorm on the way!” he finally managed to say, eternally grateful for two other women who interrupted his brief hell.

“H-haha, gosh, wow, I must have forgotten to check the weather during lunch! Happens to the best of us!” He started throwing everything back into his backpack, and took off in a ridiculous-looking power-walk to the building that everyone else was being guided to. Sand! Of course! How in the world did he miss the phrase “sandstorm”? Some geologist he was, not knowing the word for “sand” in his destination’s local language.

Hugo dared not look behind him, for he knew that his so-called brother would be keeping up with him. Probably laughing at him for fumbling with his translation. Or maybe not? The blue-haired woman said it was a good try. She seemed... Professional.

Upon entering the tavern (A real tavern, Hugo thought. Just like in the adventure books he read as a kid! Or at least something close to it.), there was a short silence. That didn’t bother him. It was completely normal for a crowd to go silent for a few seconds when something new appeared. No, what concerned him the alarmingly intimidating man who marched up to a group of patrons and immediately began antagonizing them.

“Hoooo, wow, okay,” Hugo mumbled under his breath, backing as far away from him as possible. He’d take his chances with Anai’is. Or even better, Garlic Powder girl. Where was she?

 

[Stillsnow]

Macie Blaise​

She'd definitely heard wrong. Most definitely heard wrong.

Under normal circumstances Macie would probably have gone a little red over being corrected so overtly like the knowledgable lady had just done, but the new information had drained the colour from her face. A sandstorm so dangerous that it did more than just buffet most Types of Pokémon was unheard of in... well, everywhere! Everywhere but here, apparently. Macie didn't need the local man's second round of yelling to get her following everyone into the building, the contents of her overstuffed bag’s muffled shuffling accompanying each skittering step her little legs managed.

Though the door was supposed to lead to safety, it really just presented new problems—tables of them. Macie felt herself shrinking into her hoodie with each pair of mean eyes that spent even just a second on her. None of them looked like they were happy to see the group; a few of them didn’t even look happy to see each other, but to top it all off, some old guy with his possibly dead Combusken and the ominous man with the Durant decided it’d be a good idea to draw even more attention to the group with their actions.

Macie was so preoccupied in trying to figure out what exactly was going through everyone’s heads that she didn’t realise she’d been walking backwards until bumping into something made her stop. She spun around to face it, eyes wide, only to realise she’d backed into one of the guys from outside. It was clear that he was in a similar state of uncomfortableness, and that—along with the strange, striding steps she’d seen him make to get in here—made him a little less intimidating than everyone else in here. But most important of all, this man could somewhat accurately speak the local language; this saviour could bring some understanding to this mess.

“Hi, I’m Macie, nice to meet you.” Like before, Macie stuck her hand out towards the guy, only this time to a offer of a handshake. However, she quickly swapped which hand was stuck out to her left one when she realised she was still clutching the garlic powder with her right. “Y-you speak the language right? If you think it’s a good idea, could you maybe ask the guy who brought us here what exactly he wants us to do right now? You don’t have to do it if you already know what we’re supposed to be doing, o-or if you just don’t want to do it then that’s fine too. But I’d really, really appreciate it if you did.” She spoke like she was in a race, not pausing for a breath until she’d unloaded every thought that crossed her mind.

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[DevylCakes]

Nothing could possibly bring down the utter joy that had enveloped Anai’is. There was a gradual warmth flooding his chest causing his lips to stretch into a grin, and his eyes to turn into small crescent moons. There was no masking how thrilled-how delighted-he was to be with his brother in Menva. Not even the impending doom of a sandstorm tearing through the desert could affect his mood.

Striding after his brother, Anai’is ignored the rest of the people in the party. Hugo had his full attention as he followed behind him, an adoring loyal dog trailing after their companion. He watched the other man and the people that seemed to shift to interact with him. He didn’t care for any of them and likely never would-unless they could impact his work. Shifting his attention away from his brother, albeit very briefly, the Archeologist looked around the building itself as they entered.

Given that this was the very first impression, Anai’is decided that it wasn’t awful. It certainly wasn’t luxurious, nor were the people inside of it, but he could work with it. Perhaps in the future he’d fix it up and make it… Prettier. Unfortunately, it would just have to do for now.

So long as it wasn’t destroyed.

Cutting his gaze sharply towards an imposing man that seemed all too eager to start a fight, Anai’is watched as the man loomed over the group sitting at the table in front of him. There was a brief few seconds where he thought the man might have also spoken the language or had possibly known them-of course, that was all before the man attempted to strike hot with intimidation.

No, no, no. That would absolutely not work.

Anai’is detached himself smoothly from Hugo’s side to saunter up beside the man, leaning in with a gentle tone. “While I’m sure a fight would be… Invigorating. I believe battling here might not be the best idea. I’d really prefer we not destroy my new purchase.” The Archeologist spoke, face a perfection replication of politeness that was clearly fake but also very persuading.

“How about we go sit down and I buy you a drink, hmn?”

 

[Paperface]

City of Menva, Hollow Sands Inn - 20:14
​

As the woman’s singing came to a stop, her icy blue eyes opened. The calming notes of her song ending shortly after the final lyrics. The quiet she’d created by halting her performance was quickly filled up by the chatter of the surrounding patrons. Given that the patrons were often too drunk or too uninterested to participate in her performance, any applause was generally hard to come by. Which, in turn, made it all the easier for Skye to attract the woman’s attention by going against her expectation. She stood up from the stool she’d been seated on. Gently setting her string instrument down against one of the stool’s legs before approaching the beckoning Skye.

Once in hearing range, she tilted her head to the side in response to Skye’s question; causing her blue orb-shaped earrings to sway in response. “You are not from here,” she muttered quietly before realization struck her, “New arrivals?”

Her tone instantly changed to one more eager for conversation. The premise of speaking to somebody that wasn’t a local seemingly intriguing her. Making her reconsider the question Skye had posed before providing a more insightful answer. “You just heard it! The popular folk song, I mean. Let me explain!”
Realizing that explaining the details would take some time, she sat down on the edge of the stage.

“Nobody comes to this place accidentally,” she once again muttered to herself before speaking up, “It’s too far out of the way, you see? You must be here with a purpose! Have you heard of the... Shiqun Gaharna?” For a moment there was a hint of something different in her eager tone of voice. As if speaking the words reminded her of some personal grief. “The song tells the story of Gaharna. A hero of the people. It says the Shiqun Gaharna was created in a fight between it and a threat to the Vale. However, ‘history is written by the victors’, as you folks say, and the song you just heard tells not what kind of threat.”

“Maybe…” the woman paused, seemingly getting lost in her thoughts and shutting out the rest of the world in the process. “Maybe there was no threat. Maybe Gaharna was never a hero at all…”


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Across from the stage, at the far end of the room, the table of card-playing patrons had managed to attract Jarid’s attention with their gawking. An uneasy tension filling the air around the table as he approached the patrons. However, other than joining in on the tense stare-down, nobody at the table seemed ready to instigate something. As if waiting for a sign, rather than an unwillingness to do so. A sign that came in the form of Jarid speaking up first. Prompting one of the patrons to get up, push his hands down onto the table, and start responding in his native language. Judging by his tone, a flurry of harsh words left his mouth before being shut up by a fellow patron at the same table.

“You seem eager for… confrontation.” The younger man noted Jarid’s overall stance, casting his emerald eyes onto the man and his similar tempered Durant. The chosen words were correct in their meaning, but the way it left his mouth suggested he hadn’t mastered the language quite yet. Before he could continue Anai’is joined Jarid’s side. Insinuating he was the new owner of the Hollow Sands Inn amidst his attempt to deescalate the situation. A revelation that caused the emerald-eyed man to speak up again.

“Purchase?” He paused, looking Anai’is over, top to bottom, “So, you are the old lady’s… successor?”

It took a moment, but the young adult presented a smile and hastily gathered the cards on the table. Systematically splitting them into two stacks of five. He held out one of the stacks, hoping either of the two would take it from him. However, these clearly weren’t normal playing cards. That much was easy to determine from appearance alone. These were better described as sheets of aged wood engraved with an intricate design. Hand-painted by someone who intimately knew their craft. Upon inspecting the cards further, four of them were depicted with what could only be an image of people. The one remaining card in turn seemed to depict a caped warrior with a crested helmet and two swords with red-edged blades.

“Please, excuse the... hostilities. I would be honored if you would join us.” His attention moved from Anai’is to Jarid, and once again presented a kind smile, “Confrontation, but, why not through a game of wits? You both know the rules of Yaelu, yes?”


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Interactions: DevylCakes Zahzi

 

[Zahzi]

Jarid looked from the local group to the talkative one that had been on the ride here with him. Moneybags, apparently. Looking them over, a few things were apparent. Still relatively new to their station that they would just strike up a conversation with someone who looked like a walking death threat. Some Trust-Fund baby it seemed. Typical. Field of expertise for this one was probably how well they could write a check. He did succeed in drawing his attention from the group, though. So perhaps 'distraction' would be in their resume as well.
"...In a prior life, we had a term for your type, kid. Hostage." He told Anai'is bluntly. Doing so brought to mind many memories of past exploits. At least this one seemed to be more prepared to deal with the common folk it seemed. A vast improvement over the lemmings in Orre. He eventually shook his head, as if to rid himself of bitter nostalgia.
"Regardless. I was only going to have a...Conversation...With our gawking audience. But now that you're bringing money into the conversation..." Jarid trailed off as the man with the cards spoke up, seeming to have had an idea where the talks would lead.

He stared down at the cards for a time before talking one of the sets.
"...You may need to enlighten us. Where I come from, Blackjack and Poker reign. Hostage here might need the whole premise spelled out as well." He pointed back to Anai'is with his thumb. Until he deigned to reveal his name, 'Hostage' would be a fitting moniker.

All the while, Dremel seemed to be watching the group. He didn't even look at Anai'is when he spoke up. Perhaps he didn't perceive him worth his attention. Or perhaps he didn't register him as a threat and focused on the standing one who was all too eager to start a shouting match. His eyes remained fixated on them, his mandibles twitching every now and then. Was he...Anticipating an altercation? No, that wasn't the correct word.

Hoping was.​

 

[welian]

Hugo’s tired eyes lit up with relief when he realized it was the one and only Garlic Powder Girl who had started talking to him. Unlike the maniac currently antagonizing that one back table, Macie here seemed to be a functional human being. He shook her left hand and smiled, and remember to take off his hat now that he was indoors - but he forgot that she wouldn’t be able to see his mouth behind his mask. Hopefully she'd hear him well enough over the din of the tavern (a real tavern! He was still excited about that).

“I’m Hugo,” he said, blushing slightly. She thought he spoke the language? How embarrassing! Well, embarrassing for him, at least.

“I, uh… I gotta level with you, I’m using a dictionary I picked up from the train station before I left Galar. I didn’t even know the word for sandstorm. Pretty, uh… pretty dumb for a geologist, right?” He shuffled from foot to foot awkwardly, thinking. He didn’t want to decline Macie’s request, but he was hardly fluent. He'd need a few minutes to flip back and forth and sound some words out, and then Macie would just be standing there awkwardly as well, and that was kind of rude, and, well... Hugo was no socialite, unlike someone he knew, but he knew well enough that if he needed to at least be polite about wasting someone's time.

“If you give me a few minutes, I think I could ask him, though. I was thinking of ordering a beer anyways… do you want one? Or, uh, water? I have a Pokémon that needs water, s-so I was going to sit down anyways.”

He cast a quick glance behind him, and yep, there was definitely a drunk Combusken back there. He wasn’t imagining that.

“I’d give Squiggles some beer, but I don’t want her to end up like that…”

 

[Noivian]

At the lady's question of being new arrivals, Skye eagerly nodded her head. This was a good start! She was accepting of foreigners! Some places Skye had been in the past hadn't been nearly as welcoming, and they were much more... populated areas... than this. At the notion that she'd walked in at the tail end of the song, Skye's expression started to falter, until the performer offered to explain. "Oh! Give me a moment!" Cirrus hopped off her shoulder, taking up residence on a nearby table that hadn't quite been cleaned off of cups and plates, while Skye unslung her bag from on her back and set it in a chair nearby, digging in the pockets to pull out a pen and a notepad. It was fresh and unused, one that was a glittery blue color to stand out against the sand should it fall on the floor. She flipped open a few pages, clicking the pen open and scribbling in the corner to get the ink flowing.

As the lady spoke, Skye took note, word for word, of what was said, underlining key words like names and events that the lady talked about. Gaharna... hero... against a threat to the Vale... As the lady's words trailed off, Skye stopped writing and took a moment to process what had been said. "Is there not any other song that talks about the subject? The kind of threat is never mentioned? Furthermore, is there any kind of indication in folklore that says what kind of creature Gaharna was, aside from a hero?" She blinked, realizing how much she must have been pressing, and blushed sheepishly. "Sorry if this is a lot all at once. I'm here researching local legends, so any information you may have on the topic helps. Or anyone you know who might have additional information..."

Interactions: Paperface

 

[Stillsnow]

Macie Blaise​

Finding comfort in other people's struggles was definitely a little cruel, but Macie couldn't stop her lips from forming a squiggly smile at the sight of Hugo's stammering shuffling. Maybe he couldn’t speak the local language fluently, but he certainly spoke her’s; the kinship she felt with the ostensibly anxious was more than enough to convince her to stick with him.

“Ah, t-thank you so much, take all the time you need!” she said, almost mimicking his shuffling as she spoke. “And hey, you’re smarter than me at least! Of all the super situational stuff I packed I didn’t even think to bring a dictionary with me. I mean, I even brought an umbrella to the desert... haha...” Definitely not the best thing to say to someone getting a first impression, but it came out before Macie had a chance to think about how it sounded. Now it was in Hugo’s memory. Forever.

Her attention being brought to the ambiguously alive Combusken again soured the offer of beer; her knowledge on alcohol and its effects was pretty minimal, and her experience with it even more so. Whether it was all drinks or just the ones here that could turn someone into the Combusken was not a question she needed answers to tonight. “Yeah that Combusken doesn't look like it’s having fun, I-I think just water will be good for me right now too, thank you.”

Macie only took a few steps towards the bar before she froze, noticing yet another being in this madhouse—the Dusclops. It was no Chandelure, but with its one infernal eye and weird mouth-flap-things it wasn’t exactly the ‘Approachable Pokémon’ either. However, unlike all the other threats in this bar, Macie knew exactly how to keep herself safe from Ghost-Types. “S-speaking of our Pokémon, Hugo,” Macie was already unzipping her hoodie’s pocket, “I think Blindosaurus might need some water too? She’s been stuck inside her ball all day.” From her pocket, Macie produced a slightly dented Pokéball, pressing rather harshly on the button with two fingers.

The brief flash of light that came with opening a Pokéball dissipated quickly, leaving only the fluffy Deino at Macie’s feet. Blindosaurus let out a high-pitched yip as Macie quickly scooped the Deino up into her arms, wanting to keep her little bodyguard extra close. Blindosaurus apparently did not appreciate being carried like a hairy baby, gnawing Macie’s cheek in response; a once painful sensation that‘d long since been able to elicit anything but a sigh from the young woman.

Macie spun on her heel, turning to face Hugo again with Blindosaurus still chewing on her cheek. “Erm, l-lead the way?” she said, motioning her head towards the bar.

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Mentions: That poor, poor Combusken

Interactions: welian

 

[DevylCakes]

It wasn’t entirely new for Anai’is to be looked at in such a… Leering way. He knew precisely what they were all after and it didn’t bother him. It couldn’t possibly bother him with the way he grew up. Ambitious with old money, the Archeologist took pride in his business ventures and wasn’t a stranger to being threatened because of it. Money was the blood of the world-circulating through every corner and network whether good or bad-and Anai’is had more than enough of it. Being threatened for attacked for it wasn’t new. He could easily shoulder that trauma or annoyance so long as he actually made out of it alive.

With that being said, having someone call him a hostage forthright, wasn’t something he could ignore completely.

Anai’is eyes narrowed as he looked at Jarid, debating on just how he ought to address that little societal faux pas. Thankfully he was saved from contemplating it any further by one of the locals at the table trying to draw them in for something new. Shifting his attention away from the prickly man beside him, Anai’is watched the man sitting down as he excused their behavior. He didn’t mind it, not in the least given how he’d already anticipated it, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t fully onboard with joining them. Weighing his options, the man thought about what rejecting the offer might do. For one, any damage inflicted on the building couldn’t possibly be irreparable, right? For two, he might be insulting a custom of theirs that he didn’t know existed. And, finally, for the third issue, leaving would make him seem too flippant. Truthfully-if he didn't care-he could just walk away with a friendly smile and act as if nothing were wrong, but Anai’is had a feeling that it wouldn’t be so acceptable to do so.

Besides, this was a challenge of wits and Anai’is enjoyed being able to show off.

A small confident smirk settled on the man’s features as he leaned in with obvious acceptance. “I’ve not had the pleasure of playing, but if it’s a game of wits… I’d be more than delighted to learn.” He spoke, immediately moving to procure himself a seat to partake. He looked expectantly at the group, eyes shifting from one person to the next before he dropped his attention to the cards.

Ahhh, how fascinating.

The Archeologist within him practically itched to reach out and study the wooden objects. He could tell they were old, passed down through several generations and smooth from use. Though clearly in amazing condition for how old he thought they could be. He would need to inspect them once he had a chance-just to satisfy his curiosity as well as get more of the history.

“How old is the game of Yaelu?” He inquired casually, his brain already beginning the process of internally documenting everything and anything he could for future use. “Judging by those cards, this doesn’t seem to be anything just off the shelves…"

 

[Paperface]

City of Menva, Hollow Sands Inn - 20:31​

Skye’s follow-up question snapped the woman back to reality. Seemingly dazed for a moment. As if she’d just been awoken from a dream. In the short instance, it took for her to reorient herself, her eyes landed on the Pokémon, Cirrus, who had claimed a spot on the nearby table. Failing to blend in amidst the plates and cups yet to be collected. “No… no, I get paid to entertain the patrons,” she spoke without moving her gaze off the Eevee, but ensuring an apology was wholly unnecessary, “in folklore there is only one I can think of. They call it Tarhanet. I… don’t know what it is, but! They say it’s looking for something and its search might have threatened the Vale in some way?”

The woman shrugged for a moment and fell silent once more. Losing herself in thought. Finally, she managed to pull her eyes away from the Eevee as she moved her hand up. Scratching behind her own ear. “I think…” She paused for a moment, carefully considering her words. Her gaze moving back to Skye indicating she was done thinking. “…In the middle of town, there is a building. You really can’t miss it! It’s the Temple of the Five. I’ve heard both Gaharna and Tarhanet mentioned there. Someone there might-“

The woman froze up in the middle of her sentence. Her eyes widened. Focusing on the Dusclops who’d silently joined the conversation. The Dusclops, in return, focused back. The soulless gaze of the single, unblinking eye enough to send a shiver down the musician’s spine. “Yes, I’m sorry, I know!” She apologized hastily before returning her attention to Skye. “Heh… ‘The show must go on’, right? If I think of anything else, I’ll let you know! I promise!” With a final gesture in the form of an apologetic bow, she returned to her stool. Preparing to entertain the patrons with her music once again.


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Interactions: Noivian
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Seeing as his Dusclops had succeeded in putting the musician back to work, the bartender refrained from further scowling in the woman’s direction. Gesturing for the Dusclops to proceed with its tasks as a server. The lack of music didn’t bother him enough personally to abandon his bar and put the slacking musician straight himself. But as the woman received payment for her performance, and not for idle chitchat, the man felt justified in his decision to sic his Dusclops on her. Even if he wanted to resolve the issue himself, he did not have the time for such matters. As one would expect, the bar housed the alcohol, and thus it naturally became the most patron-dense area of the room. Hardly something he could step away from, if just for a minute.

Instead, he cast his gaze down at the glass held firm in his hand. Reluctantly filling it with a local brew before sliding it towards the patron that had ordered it. Repeating the process for the next patron, and the one after that, and the one after that. Serving over a dozen inebriated bodies seated at the bar almost simultaneously. They collectively blocked the view of the bar. Unless one pushed their way to the front of the chaotic line. Which would, in turn, bring them face-to-face with the barkeeper. A gruff man in his late 50s sporting a greying, unkempt beard.

Observing him for a while would easily reveal his tasks for the evening. Seemingly consisting of; walking to the barrels at the back wall, returning to the bar, pouring more glasses, and scowling at the patrons as he served them their poison of choice. His only help – even during the exceptionally busy evening – being a Dusclops dutifully fulfilling the role of server. Periodically disappearing into the door behind the bar and reentering the room with plates of food. Which it would then serve to the patrons seated at the tables so the barkeeper could do his job without unnecessary interruptions.


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As the Dusclops dutifully performed his tasks, it naturally passed by the table Jarid and Anai’is had joined for a game of Yaelu. The Ghost Pokémon gave the patrons a vacant stare as if processing each individual at the table, before placing down a platter of local appetizers. The common theme seemed to be that the food all had berries as the main ingredient. Resulting in a very colorful presentation. The young man addressed the Dusclops in his native language before redirecting his delighted smile towards Anai’is and Jarid. “Please… indulge yourselves” He suggested as his hand performed a light gesture towards the platter. “You must share food where you are from, do you not?”

A silent moment passed before the man took it upon himself to take the first bite of a dried Rawst berry-based fruit pie. Hoping it would break the tension and allow his unexpected guests to lower their guard. Especially the ant-shaped one. Alas, despite his friendly demeanor, it was clear he had no understanding of cultures beyond his own. Luckily, Anai’is provided a way out of the quickly growing silence. “Ah, interested, allow me to explain,” he said, his face lit up as he spread out the cards in his hand onto the table, “Yaelu means strength, leadership… to overcome. Yaelu has existed as long as people have waged war. And you,” he cast his emerald gaze onto Jarid, “you’ll be what needs to be... overcome.”

“The card that’s different, the tyrant, we call it Tarhanet. As large and rugged as the mountains, dangerous as the sands he rules over. It rules the other cards, the citizens. It will never lose to them. It will only… falter when faced with my champion, Gaharna.” He carefully slid the card forward on the table, tapping it with his finger. “Gaharna is a hero, I believe you have similar stories, do you not? Of men in armor slaying beasts?” His own comment gave him pause. The smile on his face widening as he inspected Jarid’s unique appearance. “Of men in armor... say, have you ever slain a beast before, friend?”

The man chuckled to himself and continued explaining the rules of the game once he had no more theatrics nor history lessons left to spice up the conversation. Within a short time, he too ran out of rules to prolong the conversation with. Thus he collected his half of the cards and fanned them out in his hand. His cheerful expression shifting to one eager for competition now that his opposition was supposedly ready to engage. “Now then, tyrants, your first card if you would.”


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Interacted: DevylCakes Zahzi

 

[Zahzi]

With his helm still fastened tightly to his head, the man could hardly see Jarid's reaction to his words. Otherwise, he may have hesitated to continue after asking if he had slain beasts before. But, perhaps that wasn't a great topic for now. Lifetime ago and all. He stared down at the cards once more, taking into account what he droned on. Some overdone rendition of rock-paper-scissors. Just with thematic flair to keep the kids interested. Though clearly not interested for the game to be commercially successful, looking at the cards. A little short-sighted in some regards, but again. Another lifetime. Drop it, Jarid. You are SUPPOSED to be working. And here you are wasting time on a local joint's PUB GAMES. Maybe you'll be more prepared after your OTHER arm gets removed.

Jarid looked up from the cards and to Dremel, who was still waiting to pounce on anyone who just breathed wrong. He shook his head, his left arm coming into the light for everyone to see. It seemed...Different. Much thinner and moved in an odd manner compared to his right. Even the digits seemed alien. It wouldn't but a moment later until a finger tapped twice against Dremel's head, a pair of sharp metallic tacks reverberating off the two steel objects, causing Dremel's attention to be directed back to Jarid.
"Stand down...For now. Need to find the benefactor before we get...Hasty."
Dremel looked from Jarid to the patrons and gave a metallic groan before its stance mellowed out. For the time being.

Jarid returned his gaze to the cards as he shuffled them over and over. He then laid all four out in front of him face down.
Did he even look? Did he even attempted to plan this out? Did he even care? No. No, not really...

 

[DevylCakes]

The arrival of lore so soon into their journey was rather fascinating for the Archeologist. It lured him in effectively, creating a distinct divide within his mind. The two halves were full of desire-only their wants were vastly different. On one half, Anai’is wanted to win this new game while the other half was more interested in the history of the game itself. Regardless, his interest in the lore did not diminish his desire to join or win. It did, however, provide him with several questions.

What inspired the creation of the game? How old was the game exactly? If it was as old as war, surely it was an ancient game? Given the age, how ingrained in the culture was the game? Did every family have a set of Yaelu cards? Were the roles based on history or fantasy? Had there been a Tyrant that inspired a Citizen to become a Champion to win?

Anai’is reigned in the part of his brain that wanted nothing more than to inquire and settled himself into place to truly enjoy the moment. He memorized the new words, Tarhanet & Gaharna, as well as the rules. It was very obvious to him that this was a game of logic, strategy, and psychology. Though it felt more logic-based to him as clearly there was a winning line somewhere. He just needed to figure out what that line was precisely.

Watching the cards and vehemently resisting the urge to study them, the Archeologist looked over his options for what they had. So long as he was smart, they could very well win the game. That also depended on how his companion played as well. Briefly glancing towards Jarid, Anai’is watched the man lay their cards down without hesitation and felt a slight spike of anxiety. Jarid’s move of… What would even be the right word? Spontaneity? Whimsicality? Fatalistic? Anai’is wasn’t sure what could even describe the chaos that had now been brought in by that man’s lackluster decision-making skills.

Biting back a sigh, Anai’is reached forward and picked up the four cards the man set face down. Placing those forward would be an invalid move, but that was fine. He could work with the four cards.

Hopefully.

The man gave himself a few seconds to compose a blank expression, not very long but enough to ensure he had a strong poker face in place before glancing down. What had Jarid left him with? Was any of it good? Was it terrible? Anai’is searched each card face until there were none left and only then did he allow himself to relish in the new sense of smug relief that came with the outcome. The card his companion had picked up was a Citizen and that meant he had the Tyrant. Wasting no further time, Anai'is picked one of the four cards he had and laid it down.

“Tarhanet.”

 

[welian]

After a lovely conversation with Macie, and a less lovely (yet technically functional) conversation with the bartender, Hugo triumphantly walked over to a table with a cold beer, his Lotad Squiggles in tow with a few glasses of water precariously balanced on her visibly tilted lilypad.

Well, it wasn’t actually an empty table – it was the table where Anai’is and Scary Man With Feral Durant were currently playing a card game against the locals. And he wasn’t triumphant, so much as casually doing his best to sneak up on his step-brother, standing over his shoulder to watch him. He had caught part, but not all of the game’s rules. Mostly, he got the impression that the card dealer was very confident, and that Anai'is was likely to get swindled. As upset as he was that his annoyingly perfect step-sibling was now a part of his glorious adventure, the idea that Anai'is might make a fool of himself brought him a small amount of joy. And maybe, he'd look cool in front of the other researchers, instead of like a rock-eating dork?

Hugo stayed quiet, up until a tiny lull in the table's conversation as the Tarhanet card was announced.

“So, how much are you betting?”

He sipped his beer, pretending to not know any better.

 

[Noivian]

Taking meticulous time to write down the name 'Tarhanet' in big, bold letters and underlining it, Skye proceeded to scribble underneath that 'Temple of the Five' as well. She looked up again from her book, ready to bombard the performer with further questions regarding lore, until the other froze. Skye turned, catching sight of the Dusclops' singular, glowing red eye all but boring a hole through the lady. With a sheepish laugh, Skye flipped closed her notebook. "As it must," she responded when the woman stood to return to her stool. "Thank you again for your help." With a quiet sigh, Skye turned her attention from the performer, getting on with her work, to Cirrus, the small Eevee on the table beside her. The fluffy creature peered back up at her with stars in his eyes, a wide grin obvious on his face. If all that wasn't enough to show he was excited, his large and fluffy tail swished side to side, pushing aside cups and plates alike on the table. Thankfully, any that might take a tumble onto the floor, Skye moved to a nearby table instead.

Clicking her pen and slipping both pen and notepad back into her bag, Skye pulled it up off the chair and onto her shoulders, offering an arm for Cirrus to use to climb up onto her shoulder. Once situated, she turned to scan the rest of the bar, wondering where others from the expedition were at. She needn't wonder much longer, as three familiar faces had gathered around what seemed to be a card game. Well, she said familiar. What she meant was that they were more familiar than the other locals gathered around it. The man with the Durant didn't look like a good choice to stand by or glance over the shoulder of, if not for the fact that she didn't like the way the Durant looked at her, then for the fact that he was physically bigger than her and thus harder to peer over the shoulder of.

So instead of trying to slide up next to the aggressive Durant, she instead slid in next to the other two familiar faced, who supposedly knew each other - Hugo, she thought she heard the one sitting at the table call the one standing behind him. She peered over the sitting man's shoulder, squinting at the cards he held. They were certainly odd cards, perhaps for an equally odd game. Perhaps she should inquire the rules and how to play? Anything could be research if you squinted at it correctly... right?

"Who's winning?"

Mentions: Paperface Zahzi

Interactions: welian DevylCakes

 

[Paperface]

City of Menva, Hollow Sands Inn – 20:50
​

Only after offering his company some of the food did the man select one of the appetizers for himself. Taking it off the platter, he watched with shameless delight as the two before him committed to his game. He appeared to thoroughly enjoy himself, judging from his facial expressions. Surely a combination of the rich local food and the actions of the two before him. Good food and company, what more could a person ask for in a tavern? Even if his newfound company seemed in disagreement as to what their play in the game should be. Yet, they managed to produce a valid – and rather unexpected – first play all the same.

“How intriguing. The most… unexpected plays come from those with lacking… experience, wouldn’t you agree?” the man mused with weighed words, carefully flipping over his card in response to Tarhanet taking the field. Revealing it to be a Citizen card before moving it to the side of the table. Indicating its removal from the game. “Shall we continue with the second round?”

Selecting another card – despite being well aware this match was lost already – he placed it down upon the table. Keeping it faced down until his opponents would choose a card of their own. Turning his intrigued emerald eyes towards his company, he took notice of two others joining the table side. Appearing to be simple spectators at first glance. It wasn’t until they spoke that the man’s eyes lit up. Words spoken with such familiarity could only mean one of two things. Either these people knew each other, or these spectators had indulged in one too many drinks. However, given that he’d seen them all arrive at roughly the same time, and they hadn’t been here longer than an hour at most, the first assumption was likely the correct one.

“You all must be… acquainted. Please, take a seat.” The man insisted with clear interest. Enough so to gesture for his own companions to offer up their seats to make space at the table. Which they did without objection, finding a new place to drink at the bar. Having settled the lack of seating quite efficiently, his hand moved once again to the platter. Offering the new arrivals a portion of the local cuisine as well. “Indulge yourselves, there is enough to go around.”


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Interactions: Noivian DevylCakes welian Zahzi