Intermittent Rp Of A Brewer

[OSD 10]

If this is posted in the wrong section, please leave a msg on my profile, my last two posts here have been deleted with no warning nor notice. There's no "Read me first" pinned on this forum, and I was directed here in-game in OOC since I don't belong to the subsectioned nations.

-continuation after the minor explosion during the visit by Tyras of Malinor-

Bloody hume in treehugger clothing, be a proper pinkskin and wear human clothing for granite's sake!

The short, scrawny dwarf opens more of the roof with a long stick to ventilate the distillery further. Kyra and Tyras can be overheard in the background, discussing about a house he would like to purchase. Feb is covered by even more soot as the residue from the explosion and subsequent smoke have gathered where the detachable roof was, not that it particular bothered him. He have been covered in soot all year round, even taking a bath have failed to remove them completely. As the fresh air rushes in from the two double doors, creating an updraft thru the roof, the dwarf goes to check to make sure his pony was okay and did not buck off in fright

Curse that woman of an innkeep! Making me use the pony for transport, why can't I just roll the barrels to the tavern?!

He continues to complain to the pony, who still lack a name, as he works to make sure it was not terrified from the explosion as it was relatively close to the stable. The young horse merely nudges his nose at the dwarf's hand and neck as the dwarf worked, part in acknowledgement, part in hoping to soothe the grumpiness. Feb rubbed the horse down with some soft sand to clean it and to kill any insects that would make themselve a new equine home, the pony was obviously delighted after it shook the sand off, neighing happily. It softly bit the hair and part of the dwarf's short beard to show its appreciation.

What in hell's forges are you doing?!

Feb was dangling halfway in the air, with only one leg supporting him. He continued to curse, about the horse at first. As the pony continued to groom the dwarf in its equine way, Feb resigns to the fact that he will be stuck for a while. So he took out the sample of his new brew, sipping and complaining, about the bard and his accursed innkeep of a wife, about them forcing this tiny horse on him, about the damn cats that keeps staring at him whenever he goes thru the fountain, about the damn elves, especially the elves and their treehugging ways. Feb complain and complain, eventually the gnawing slowly stopped and he could finally feel the ground under both his legs.

Ack! Horse drool! Why you stupid horse, I ought to sla...

Feb stopped midsentence as he was turning around while he intended to teach the tiny horse a lesson. The pony has apparently fallen asleep.

Bah! Damn horse! Guess I best clean myself.

Around the corner, several sheep Bahs in chorus, as if in response to the dwarf

Oh don't you guys start with me!

Feb stomped back inside the brewery, several more chorus of seemingly mocking Bahs can be heard before he closed the stable doors. He quickly enters into the basement, opened a barrel and showered himself with the booze to get rid of the horse saliva, which have caused his short beard slicked to one side of his face and his hair in ten different directions. As he did he quick shower, he does a mental verbal check of things he need to do:

The new brew, I shall call Hell's Breath, needs to be diluted down further to prevent another explosion

Kyra needs a shipment of the new brew for her tavern as they are running low on booze to serve

Kick one of the cats if they stalk me again

Make a statue of that newcomer, Myra? Zyra? Kyra the second? Can't quite remember his name, well, he like Whiskey, so I'll just call him Whiskers. It would be the perfect gag for a tavern's centerpiece!

Kill all living things

Write down the new recipes

Check if the distiller need repair as a result from the explosion

Feb freezes midmotion, blinks a few times.

G't out of me head you damn accursed crawlers! Go back to the bloody hole where the stonewrought gods have sent you! I will not join you as did me family!

Taking a ladle of alcohol from another barrel and gulping it down quickly, Feb waits a moment for the blessed booze to take its effect. He redo the list in his head.

Dilute the new brew

Kyra needs a shipment of the new brew

Kick one of the cats

Make a comedic statue of the newcomer

Write down the new recipes

Check if the distiller need repairs

Get the bard to standstill so fruits can be thrown at him to confirm one of the brew recipe

Satisfied with his mental list, cleansed both in mind and body, the dwarf went to one of the spouts, flipping it. A mechanical thump can be heard in the opposite end of the room. Making sure that Kyra, Tyras and others weren't near, the dwarf goes into his hidden room. Taking out his artisan hammer and chisel, he starts to engrave the new recipes onto left walls of the room.

[OSD 10]

-continuation after the the experiments on mechanisms-

Feb was bored and annoyed, the bard isn't there to be taunted as he and his wife went on vacation. The hammerswinger and the treehugger was nowhere to be seen. Taking this opportunity, he decided to go on another journey in search of gadgets and materials for more brews. Making sure that the hay and water were plenty for the pony for the duration of the journey, Feb set off with 2 barrels of ales, a few axe, light armours and some food. He remembered getting toss in the wave when he went north and east last time, then losing consciousness before waking up under the care of the monks. This time, he will go north and west.

Why must these damned boats be so hard to control?! Damn that craftsmans, learn to make a decent boat!

As Feb fights the oars, the wave, and the birds diving at him, he noticed a giant anchor on the horizon.

By the hammers! When did this get here?

As he gaze upon the anchor and the two large ships anchored nearby, he noticed an entrance at the bottom of the hill, behind the anchor. Struggling between his curiosity and his urge to get away as fast as possible for a few moment, his decision was made for him when his boat crashed into a pillar and scattered to pieces. Cursing, then realizing that shouldn't be here, he covered his mouth quickly. It was perhaps the situation, or the panic, or his mind playing tricks on him, regardless of the cause, Feb forgot he was in the water when he covered his mouth. After sinking like a hammer to the bottom of the small docking area, he swam up gasping for air.

With the stealth of drunk hippo and the grace of a drowning fish, he climbed onto the docks. He looked around, searching for someone, anyone. It was eerily silent. Venturing a little further beyond the docks, he dragged his soggy wet self to a small cave. Inside the sparsely decorated room sat various devices, one is labeled "cannon", another "discombulastin". He spent long moments, inspecting each of the device in turn. A loud "clang" rattled from above, Feb nearly jumped out of his skin, as he was without his weapon which still sat at the bottom of the docking area. Taking no chances, he ran out and nearly choked.

Further up the hills were lines, knotted with laterns. A giant blacksail blocks part of the horizon, and what seems like hanging cages can be seem dangling off the cliffs. Swallowing hard, Feb quickly scan the water, hoping for a way out, this is a pirate hideout.

As he quickly scanned the water, he spotted a small boat similar to his old one, unanchored and in the water, he dashed to retrieve it. With unexpected swiftness, he got onto the boat, steered it into the docking area and recover what he can. Another clang could be heard again, taking no chances, he sailed off south and then west.

Bloody pirates! Just my luck running into them! What next? Another st...

Before he can finish sentence, he was already drenched by heavy rain. Before he can even curse at the clouds, his boat crashed ashore.

This journey just get better and better! Crashing twice! Pirates! Storms!

The soaked, chilled and visibly angry dwarf drags the few items he has managed to recovered at the pirate's hideout out from the wet and gritty sand to seek shelter under a tree.

Worn out stoneaxe, one barrel of ale, leather helm and chestguard, 4 loaves of bread..

Feb put his face into his cupped sandy, rough hands and sigh deeply. After taking a gulp of his only respite in all of this, and slept. The next day, he grabbed the axe and proceed to cut down some nearby trees. After gathering some wood and wild fruits from the trees, as the stormy weather runs its course over the next few days, sunlight finally peeked through the cloud, he took a short rest, taking in the much welcomed heat and took a clearer look of the island he was on. He felt like crying the very moment he look at the water on the otherwise of the island.

There sat an abandoned boat, gently swaying at the beach. Still can't believe he spent days gathering supplies and sleeping under a tree like a dirty elf, he trudge toward the ship. Taking another large gulp of the fine ale before he reached the boat, he then checks it for seaworthiness. Satisfied, he loaded his meager belongings as well as the lumber and fruit he acquired onto the boat and sailed off, heading south west, hugging the coastline.

For a few days, he continued his travel, going thru what he saw, pondering about the two devices he inspected at the pirates' hideout. Seeing as there is nothing useful there for the time being, his thoughts began to wander. His barrel is ale is half gone already, he knows his journey will not last as long as he'd hope. Ever since he lost that first barrel at the pirate's hideout, it's one thing after another. A village of sorts can be seen, his heart skipped a beat.

A rogue wave pushed the boat hard into the coastline, the hardpacked sand scrape the bottom of the boat, causing it to break apart. Exasperated, he just dragged what is left of his stuff, transfer the last of his ale into a waterskin, and walked toward the nearest building, which happened to be tastefully decorated.

Hello?

Feb's voice echoed throughout the church-like building. Thinking nothing's amissed, he got onto a road, upon seeing a sign pointing toward a tavern named "Drunken Druid" and another sign advertising "Druid's Drunken Melon", his spirit lifted. Nothing picks a slightly demented dwarf up better the promise of booze.

I'll have two of your finest melons!

He was obviously excited as he entered, but his face dropped upon seeing the empty building. Stomping off, fuming, cursing, Feb went down the street until he noticed, there's not a soul in the village. Looking around carefully, he sees a degree upon a bulletin board of sorts. It has notification of where to get food, residence and worse of all, that the entire village is moving for the sake of some elves.

THE DAMN TREEHUGGERS AGAIN! I WILL CHOP ALL YOUR DAMN TREES DOWN AND BURN ALL YOUR SAPLINGS TO ASHES!

He readied his axe, walked out of town and proceed to chop down the first tree he saw which happens to be in a pond. As he was wading thru the water getting to the second tree, he fell face first. Feb was about to start cursing again, but he stopped before he could start and licking his lips.

What.. is this taste?

Looking around, he see semi-rotten fruits on the vine, dripping its sweet nectar onto some floating plants on the water. Without a second thought, he took the nearest floating plant encrusted with the drippings and sipped it. The flavour seems a little off, but Feb was convinced he could fix that. Forgetting all about his original plan of cutting down all the trees, he started to harvest the lily pads and vines to bring home with him.

He was gathering, drinking, gathering, drinking, forgetting about everything else. It wasn't until the next night, when the undead skeleton came chasing that he realized he was supposed to be on a journey. Hugging his precious harvests, he chopped down two skeleton archers in quick succession and ran. And ran. And ran. And ran some more. There were spiders, zombies, skeleton, even a tall dark creature Feb recalled as the Enderman, all vying to kill him. Just at the edge of the forest, there was a house with open door, with the last of his strength, Feb ran into the house, slam the door shut and promptly collapsed from exhaustion.

He woke up when the hate sunlight shines upon his eye, although Feb hates the brightness the star provides, he was grateful for its warmth and its ability to chase away some creatures. Looking around, realizing the place was most likely abandoned, Feb restrapped his supplies, readied his axe and charged out. After slaying the spiders that awaits him, he ran off following the nearest path, looking back he can more spiders crawling after him, and behind them, a sign telling him that the house he took refuge in belonged to a translator

And they say language is useless! ha! Thanks whoever you are!

Feb travel continuously, ever in pursuit by creatures that would do him harm. He ran up the path, and circled a mountain, before finally reaching the interior of it. The can see a tree, overhanging a cliff, with its inside burning. Seeing as the flame doesn't spread, Feb deduced that the tree must be warded or have magical properties. Edging his way on one side of the cliff, he made it under the tree. He has lost track of how many days and night he has been traveling. His lumber have been mostly used up to craft axes to fend off the creature as he continued his travel. He was down to two piece of bread. It was fortunate that by stuffing his waterskin with some vine fruits and lilies managed to extend the life and quantity of his ale. As he make a mental checklist of his dwindling supplies, he unwitting drifted asleep.

Hell's forge, I fell asleep?

The tree must be special somehow, as he was defenseless from exhaustion and nothing, not even the creature that were chasing him, attacked him while he rested. He took some pebbles from his inner pocket, shifted some soil and buried them. Feb blinked a few times, refusing to believe he was being thankful toward a tree, walked off.

What is it with the elves and bothering me everywhere I go? Why didn't the great ancestor wipe them out?!

The path he was taking sloped down, eventually ending at the bottom of the mountain. Nearby waterfalls outlined the shape of a cavern. Thinking it was of dwarven design, he entered, only to find out it belong to some fancy noble elf house. Angry, tired, frustrated, hungry, thirsty, the miserable dwarf stomp down the echoing staircase, not caring whether he was trespassing nor the fact that whoever live here wouldn't like his intrusion. In his fury, he didn't realize he walked thru a portal and ended up in a dwarven domain. Knowing his luck, he dared not get his hope up, and he was right. The domain seems to be unoccupied, the tavern that offered booze of various variety, orcish halfing steak and other food, but there were no innkeep nor barmaid. Feb did managed to bump into two dwarves, but it seem they too were visitor in search of ale.

Well, at least I can take in the sights and see what kind of engineering these distant brothers of mine are up to

Feb crawled thru the tunnels, warmed himself by the massive lake of magma, explore the mineshafts and the train cart system. He was disappointed for the most part, as he had expected. He sighs as he stopped walking, at the top part of the underground city

Maybe I should head straight west next time

Double checking his belongings, Feb took out a purple stone with no definite shape, a few seconds later, he was back home. He could feel the voices, taunting him, teasing him, he quickly rushed to the brewery and gave himself a good, long drink

These better be worth it

Feb grumbled as he put away the vine and lily pads into a chest label "experiment", putting the thoughts of the two device he saw at the hideout to the back of his mind. He worked quickly to make sure the pony was fine and then went to his hidden cavern deep inside the city, where few have venture or knows of it existence. He joins into the pond of naturally brewed alcohol a top a tower cap mushroom, cleansing himself before walking down the stairs to the bottom of the giant mushroom. There, he lay down on the comfortable bed, surrounded by the mists of alcohol that are produced as it falls from the top. Tired, cleansed, enshrouded in the blessed mist, Feb took his well deserved rest.

[steelersfan1221 300]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.