The Drunken Duck and Llama Inn's Journal|
[Most Recent Entries]
Below are the 5 most recent journal entries recorded in
The Drunken Duck and Llama Inn's LiveJournal:
|Monday, July 10th, 2006|
Sebastien grins. "I knew I chose the right place for a drink! Every time the door opens, another lovely lady walks through!"
|Sunday, July 9th, 2006|
Violet pauses at the door that separates the Inn proper from the tavern. A quick glance at the room's few occupants and she heads to the bar, exchanging a few quiet words with the barkeep before taking from him a mug and a small bowl.
She drops her rucksack on a table in the middle of the room, flops down in a chair and places the mug and bowl to one side of the table. Digging through her sack Violet pulls out a weathered scroll and spreads it open. A sleek black cat leaps up on the table, investigates the contents of the mug before taking a drink from it.
Violet gently pushes the cat aside. "From the bowl, if you please, Mistress Bast. That mug is mine."
|Wednesday, July 5th, 2006|
From his table a few feet away, Sebastien raises his mug to the lovely newcomer. "To what gracious god's whim do we owe the blessing of such fire-tressed beauty? I should like to praise him for granting my poor old eyes such a sight as you!"
*And just for reference...Sebastien Devanagali is about 6' tall, somewhat lanky, with long, blond, exceptionally well kept hair. He's wearing tall black boots, close fitting black breeches, a white silk shirt and a midnight blue velvet frock coat.
|Monday, July 3rd, 2006|
Sebastien strolls in, finds a seat and stretches his legs out before him. He sighs in contentment.
"Publican! A mug of whatever's good today, if you'd be so kind!"
He looks around the room. A game of dice or cards, a pretty woman to flirt with...either will do fine.
|Sunday, July 2nd, 2006|
Passing through the door, you see this pub is dark and peaceful within - several thick-hewn tables with equally sturdy chairs are arranged around the room. A fire crackles in the stone hearth, and the bar at the back appears to offer nearly every kind of drink one might ask for. The publican steps out from the kitchen, and sees you. He wipes his hands on his apron and steps forward with a smile.
"Come in, rest your feet. A bath? Of course! I'll send the girl up with hot water right away. Meanwhile, have a mug and tell your tale, if you like. The bar stays open until the wee hours, so there's no hurry. You all look tired.
So, from whence do you hail?"