Scenario Entitled: Ayup.Characters:
Lupe, new gym-owner.
Jenny, independent wilderness guide.
Location: The farming village of Wyrvane
Date: A Summer's day in 110 P.A.
The main road is baking in the afternoon heat, with a miasma of moisture hanging over the space, creating mirages in the distance. The workers are back from the fields early, and heading in straggling groups towards the watering hole, Bethseda Inn.
Lupe still outside of town but ever approaching, Lupe blows a high, shrill whistle out into the woods. "Buster! You out there?" He whistles again, then takes a moment to investigate a sound some meters west of the path. Finding nothing, Lupe returns to the road and continues his northward progress, whisting all the way.
Eastward, actually, but who's keeping track of a lone traveler? Just inside the shade of the stables, a trio of humanoids are gathered around a dented old generator, with one of them tinkering away while having helpful suggestions tossed down from those observing. The clack of tools doesn't carry far, but an occasional mechanical cough blurts into the street, drawing idle stares from the villagers.
Lupe's not--that's for sure. He's just wandering around in the woods. Unfortunately, wandering around in the woods hasn't gotten him too far, and now he's starting to lose the light...Time to pack it in for the evening. Lupe adjusts his jacket and resumes his progress northwards (dammit) along the path into town. He'd keep whistling and calling if it weren't for the occasional wagon going back the other way towards Tolkeen (that's southward). They keep giving him weird looks when he yells into the woods, and one particularly jumpy (and possibly inebriated) traveler actually flashed his piece at him. So Lupe keeps his pace fast and his mouth shut all the way into town.
Jenny draws back from her forward lean, placing her hands on her hips to steady herself as she arches her spine left, then right, attempting to sort out the chinks. A sharp chisel-like tool sprouts from one fist. Her legs are sprawled to either side of the old portable generator, and she's apparently been sitting there for hours, if it's now getting dark. So she gives up, too, giving the side of the metal contraption a good whack with the long tool in her hand. "It's dead. Sorry. Maybe you could call someone in from Sherbrook," she suggests wearily, and mops her forehead with her dusty blue bandana.Jenny's Description
Standing at 5'8" and weighing in at an estimated 145lbs, Jenny is a healthy woman. Her skin is pale, but vigorous underneath, and her bone structure is long and strong, well-fleshed. She has a hearty sort of face, good cheekbones, a strong chin, and a slightly blunt nose, but with delicate, almost aristocratic nostrils. Her arched eyebrows and lashes are light brown in color, a subdued shade of her copper-blonde, fine hair, which falls just past her shoulders but is tied up behind her head. The best of her is found in her cool slate eyes, that tend towards a green tint in the light.
Her tall, tough figure is completely muffled in a long-sleeved, blue chambray-net shirt, with a white tee visible past the open collar. Worn rawhide-patched denim jeans are cinched with a long leather belt, loose material lolling down across her hip. Over the outfit is a burgundy fleece jerkin that ties in three places down the front. Her boots are brown and scuffed and cracked leather, the heels wearing down from hard travel. The right one has a small sheath sewn in as a feature, from which protrudes the hilt of a hunting knife. The pant leg splits along that outside calf to accommodate the extra bulge.
Other accessories of note include a dark blue bandanna-scarf, twisted and wound loosely around her collar, and anchored to the base of her ponytail at the back of her head, in a knotted tie.Now standing off to one side of the main drag, Lupe takes a minute to survey his new surroundings. Looks kinda...well, Lupe at least tries to hide his displeasure. The thing of it is, is that this town just looks like it was rebuilt to quickly, and has the soulless feeling of any town where all the buildings were constructed within months of each other. Plus it smells like Town. Lupe takes a sniff, a long, nose-wrinkling drag. Cow, oil, more cow, stinky child with hula hoop (urg)...he shakes his head and refocuses on the pleasant--at least the place has a bar. And of course, women with tools are always a good sign.
One of the villagers standing around rubs his head underneath the rim of his hat, and comments that the boys'll be mighty disappointed when they find out there'll be no ice for their drink. Jenny grunts as she gets her legs under her to rise, "Yeah, but just think, you'll have to cook up all the venison tonight. Steaks for everyone, eh?" Sweat stains under the arms of her t-shirt, down from her neck on both sides. She tosses the iron pick down into the straw in front of the hunk of junk and starts to follow the old timers towards the bar. The sun strikes her as she leaves the shelter, and she pauses there to squint against the light, as it lights her coppery hair on fire. She also surveys the old road, but if she sees the same thing that Lupe does, she is apparently much more comfortable with it, because her expression is definitely not one of cynicism.
Well, anyone is liable to get a little grouchy when he's just lost his pet. Lupe is drawn to the by the irresistible attraction of old-timers: their long, drawn out stories (which, Lupe will readily admit, are only good if they're at least 80% lie), and that ethereal and yet very real possibility of a banjo number of hoe-down. Lupe's feet drag him ever closer to the bar, as if his need for country music was biological in nature, and his brain is only coming along for the ride. Lupe takes a last, fleeting look at the sunset before setting foot upon the bar's wooden front steps.Lupe's Description
Lupe's sort of an average looking guy, although young--certainly not more than twenty, possibly considerably less. Today he doesn't look quite as young as he might usually--his narrow face, dark hair (with weird little flecks of red in his sideburns) and deep set hazel eyes look rather haunted given his pallor, the dark rings beneath his eyes, and his still half shaven face. Other than that he might be cute, if not really handsome. He's got nice eyes, in a brown way. And his cheekbones are good, and his chin isn't weak either. But somehow all of these nice features come together in a way that, while not unappealing, still fail to be really attractive. Plus, he's too skinny.
In any event, Lupe doesn't look like he's trolling for cuties today: He's ready for traveling. With old, heavy boots made of some alien hide tucked under grey pants (with reinforced knees) of some ballistic fiber, Lupe's got the kind of loose, study clothing and good ankle support necessary for putting on a lot of miles in a day. Above his waist Lupe wears a button down shirt with some thin layer of padding beneath it--which doesn't work out to badly, as Lupe's chest could use a little work. The uncufflinked (pretend it's a word) French sleeves jut out from beneath a slender, tan suede jacket.Jenny turns away and peers into the vague shadows of the stables, as if looking for someone. She finally just calls, "I'm going in," before taking another step into the road, and then moving along that cracked and dusty shallow groove towards the inn. Her eyes flick ahead to assess the traveler-type near the door, and she begins to brush the dirt and straw from her fanny and scrub her palms against the sides of her legs; there, now she only looks like she's rolled about in the dirt with the livestock. Much better.
Lupe's conscience catches up with him just for a moment. He hesistates on the steps, just for a moment. He knows he's going in, but he'll fight it. This time, it's with a momentary attempt at sociability. "Hey: what's good in there?" He speaks to the dusty woman, but gestures towards the door.
She looks up. "Eh?" After a considering pause, she drawls, "Everything, fella. That is, compared to standing in the hot street like an idjit." She joins him at the door, taking one last swipe at the side of her face with a fold of the bandana... and managing to put down a streak of grime in its wake. "Otherwise, it's pure hell. No ice."
Lupe stares at her for a moment, then breaks into his awkward, lopsided grin. He scratches his head. "Yeah, well I guess I'll take warm booze over standing like an idjit anyday. Um...hey--can I buy you a drink? It may not have ice but if you have a double it'll numb ya just as good."A large two-story building with a mounted sign over top the wide wooden door:
The Old Bethseda Inn
food drink and lodgings
There are windows along the front, above and below; and also on either immediate side, overlooking the smaller side roads.Jenny inclines her head, a quick grin edging onto her work-dirty face. "I like the way you think. Even though I was thinking 'double' anyway, myself." She leans forward and gives the wide door a hard push, and the way is opened to an open space flickering with gaslantern light. Then she ambles on in ahead of him.
Bethseda Inn - Mainfloor
The mainfloor is roughly thirty by fifty feet, cement floored, and clogged with furniture. The stone walls have been patched with scrap metal, creating an interesting pattern from window to window. The twelve-foot ceiling is supported by thick oaken pillars along the walls and at all four corners of the island bar, which is situated in the center of the room, to provide maximum counter space. Roughly-hewn but serviceable tables radiate out from there, some having similar benches, others utilizing mismatched chairs for seating. Along the walls, more private 'booths' afford a better view from smokey-glassed windows of the main road and side paths, as long as the old tawdry drapery hasn't fallen loose of their fetters again. Otherwise, the mainfloor is lit by a series of mounted lamps powered by the generator back near the washrooms and galley.
The staff consist of a barman and proprietor, and a bevvy of the local women as cooks, serving and scullery maids. All high-tech weapons are left with the cloak room clerk, a bristling being with four trunk-like arms, and swivelling eyes.
The regulars here are obviously the village dwellers and farmers, catching some respite from the constant drudgery of working for a living. However, the tavern is fair game for travellers on their way elsewhere, stopping for a meal, a drink, a tale, or perhaps simply a night's rest upstairs in lodgings warmer and safer (maybe) than one spent in the wilderness. Therefore, it's not unusual to see an out-of-place being or silent stranger in the midst of the familiar.
Obvious exits:
Stairs <U>p <O>utJenny meanders towards the nearest unoccupied table to the door, replying to the easy greetings of those already relaxing here (or trying to).
Lupe follows Jenny into the bar, secretly hoping for banjos and feeling deep pangs of guilt about it. Rather than accompanying Jenny to the table, he approaches the bar and tries to flag down some service, but to no avail. He is distictly ignored by barman--maybe it's the suede? Maybe the bartender has a crush on Jenny...in any event rather than make a scene, he returns to Jenny's table in defeat. "Maybe you ought to give it a try? I think the barman's jealous."
"Eh? Jealous?" The woman has settled back almost comfortably in her wooden chair, draping one arm back over the support and plucking at the front of her shirt to create some much-needed draft against her skin. She looks from one side to the other, but since she's pretty much facing the exit, she's not able to actually catch sight of the tender in question. "Jealous of what?"
Lupe rubs his nose for a second as he considers sliding into the chair across from her. But of course if she's good and comfy he may find himself going back up there in a hurry..."Hey I can't say for certain--one or the other of us I guess. It's hard to tell with this guy. Anyway, he's not serving me and I'm too tired to tear the place up this evening. Aw hell...what're you drinking?"
Jenny studies him. "Hey, take it easy, fella. Probably Merrick didn't hear you or somethin'.. Siddown.. one of the girls will get around to us eventually." A frown chases her easy grin from her face, and she muses with genuine concern, "Or maybe the tap's still stuck.." She makes the effort and twists a little, glancing at the other tables for the telltale signs of booze. Spotting several half-full glass mugs, she slumps again. "Shitdamn. Kay, maybe he just doesn't like your face." She regards him in half-lidded good humor.
Lupe settles into a rickety armchair. He makes himself comfortable, makes the chair his own--its hard wooden nature, the inch missing from the bottom of the rear right leg--they all become second nature. *Kathump kathump* it rocks unpleasantly, but not badnaturedly. "Yeah maybe. I still think it's just he likes it more than he's comfortable with." He rubs his chin; it doesn't feel like too bad a face. "Anyway, I drink bourbon. They've got that, right?"
Jenny looks at him drolly. Alright, that's a good joke there. She gives a minute nod, muttering, "They'd better. What'd you say your name was?" She pauses, making a slight face. "Ah, you didn't. Then let's do it this way." Inclining her head and tipping it slightly to the side, she adds, "Jenny."
"Jenny, huh? I'm Lupe. Nice to meecha. So here's the million credit question: You seem like a regular--do you know the clown tending bar?" Lupe queries.
She gazes at him, absorbing the name, and her eyes sharpen a little more. She makes a small show of twisting in her chair to gaze towards the hollow square that is the central bar. "..'Fraid I don't.. what clown is that? I only see Merrick." And that is her opinion about that, it seems; take it or leave it. "Me and my partner blow in from time to time.. just brought some folks in from Stonehaven to meet the ferry. Ah!" This last is uttered as one of the brown-tanned women of Bethseda arrive at the head of the table, peering curiously first at Lupe, before speaking in her quaint farmland twang, asking what y'all would fancy.
Lupe checks out the leathery barmaid for a moment before reaching into the deepest recesses of his mind to fumble for some shred of gallantry. "Ladies first, right? What's it gonna be, Jenny?" He had been scoping out Merrick (forever the elephant man in his own mind), but now settles back into his chair to wait for his companion's order.
"Got bourbon?" Jenny makes sure, before resting her mind easy. Hate to set one's cap on something, only to have it ripped off again. "I'll have a double. If you've got any of that crunchy stuff mixed up, too, I'd sure like a basket." She may not be from around here either, but she's got a wilderness accent of her own, however light. "Thanks."
"What she's having," says Lupe to the barmaid before returning his attention back to Jenny. "So you know these parts well?" He asks it casually enough, but there's a little glint in his eye that says there's nothing really that casual about his question.
Jenny nods, either not seeing the intent, or not thinking it a cause for concern. "Pretty well. Not as well as I know the Northlands, though." She shifts her weight, glancing once towards the door. "You looking for something around here?" The noise level increases from all sides as the shady, if still humid, respite brings some energy back into the locals.
Lupe nods with enthusiasm and doesn't seem even to notice the increasing volume in the bar. "Actually, yeah--I lost a pet out here, and I'm trying to track him down. His name's Buster--big black horse-lookin' thing with lion's paws and big, leathery wings. You'd know him by the fiery breath and the wake of destruction behind him. Plus, I've also found he doesn't answer to the name 'Buster'. You heard about anything like that lately?"
"..." She toys with the bandanna, twisting it in her hands, looking for a clean spot, giving up. The initial numb skepticism passes, then, and she settles. Her gaze rests on his face flatly: 'what do YOU think?'
"Hey I don't know, I just got here." Lupe shrugs casually. "He's not real keen on people usually, but I'm kinda attached to him. And I thought he was soft on me, leastwise until he tossed me offa him and chomped my leg." He yanks up his pant leg to reveal several large, vaguely tooth shaped lacerations. "Course, maybe he is soft on me--least he left my leg still on."
"Eh..?" She leans over a bit to peek. "Oh. So.. you /are/ serious," she remarks, interested but not all that disturbed by the wounds. Her dirt-smudged expression turns thoughtful. "...nope, I've never heard of sucha thing... lion's paws? On a horse? With wings. And.. dragon breath." She pauses, then leans over to glimpse his leg again for a moment. "Nope, can't help you there. I'm glad to say. Remind me not to take the same road out as you when we leave."
Lupe thanks the barmaid as she returns with the drinks. He flips a tiny, semi-precious gem onto the barmaid's tray. "Yeah, Buster's real alright. They call 'em Dragondactyls, and they're as ugly as they are mean. Strictly off-world, usually. Anyway..." Lupe tastes his bourbon, and carefully refrains from making a face.
The OBI woman stares down at the stone. "What's this?"
Jenny taps her index fingernail against the squat glass in her hand, looking idly from Lupe to the other woman. A small frown lingers on her face, and she glances around as an afterthought, checking the Yokel Curiosity Factor at the nearby tables.
Lupe almost chokes on his drink and stares up at the woman. "That's garnet, worth eighty credits at least--I thought that it was good everywhere. Something you'd rather have?" Lupe starts fishing around in his jacket pocket looking for a credstick. It's funny--it looks like he's got his arm in there practically up to the shoulder. He also scans for the ambient YCF--Lupe hates too much attention.
A sort of ripple effect has started, spreading a relative hush outwards from ground zero, their table. Jenny pauses, then inclines her head in a minute nod to the farm woman: It's okay. That durned woman-to-woman natural telepathy works like a charm, and the goodwife steps back a little and utters, "My thanks, traveler. If ya and ya want a room fer th' night, just ask Merr'ck." She retreats.
Lupe studies Jenny with renewed interest. And the retreating barmaid, and Joe Sloshed at the nearby table. "What was that all about?" He asks before sampling about half the contents of his glass.
Jenny cants her head a little to the side, and drags the basket of trail mix to the center of the table, before pawing through it lightly. "Nnh. These are good, honest folk, Lupe. They can birth a foal, headfirst, in pitch darkness," she says, holding a small handful of the nuts and bits of salty things in a cupped palm. "..but they don't know a real stone from a chunk of glass. I... just let 'em know I'm watching you for 'em.. that's all." She tosses the jumble of mix into her mouth, crunching it up in the side of her mouth while regarding him simply.
Lupe kills the rest of the booze in his glass--after the first half is gone, the second half doesn't taste nearly so bad. "Yeah? I just hope you're watching ol' Merrick for me." Lupe rubs his eyes and pushes his chair back a scotch. "Well Jenny, I think I'd best be hitting the road before too long--the path back to Tolkeen can get nasty after dark, and it'll be a hike without old Buster to haul me around."
Jenny has put back half of her own glass, letting the aftertaste roll around in a humming sigh. She looks back at him questioningly. "Heading to the city at this hour?.. well, it'll be light yet.. being summer." Even as she shrugs unconcernedly, she adds, "But I'd take their offer of a room, myself.. even so. Good travels to you, Lupe."
Lupe chuckles to himself. "Actually, I've got a job interview in the morning--I think I can get back alright though." Lupe gets to his feet and carefully pushes his chair back in beneath the table. "Hey: so it was nice meeting you Jenny. You in these parts much? If you were I'd come out and say hello again. Maybe we could go trolling for ugly firebreathing horses sometime?"
"Uh... no. I just remembered, I've some pressing business back up north." She smiles, though. So.. that's a maybe.
Well, maybe isn't such a good way to encourage people to walk all the way out from Tolkeen...we'll see I guess...."Yeah, well...good luck with that business. Thanks for giving me the low-down on Wyrvane." Lupe notices Marrick glaring at him and decides to shorten his goodbye. "Right--see you then." With a vague wave and a rub of the head Lupe turns and sallies out of the bar.
Back to the Archives
Back to Main Page