Down at the Prancing Pony (Open Log)
When: Dusk
Where: Dilhum, north-central Pyris (down at the local tavern/hotel)
Who: Zax, a few racist tavern-goers and anyone else~? ♥
When he first came across the town, it was almost like something out of a medieval fantasy movie or game, the kind of virtual reality ones that all the kids in Midgar used to get hooked on. Zax had to admit, in his spare time (what little spare time he had) he might've enjoyed a few hours or ten of those games, but this was ridiculous.
Even as he walked towards the outer palisade wall of the decently-sized town (the guards standing on duty along the top of the wall peered down at him suspiciously), he was switching constantly between pinching himself to try and wake up from this weirdo dream, to tentatively running his fingers along his stomach and chest at the parts where he had remembered bullets hammering into his body.
He considered the possibility that both this and the fight on the cliff-edge could be dreams. Very vivid ones. Those lucid, almost sensory-equipped dreams that he would often have when he drifted away from reality in the tank...
No, 'cuz I definitely escaped he thought to himself then, a slight smile coming to him as he nodded firmly. Whatever this is, I shouldn't complain, because it's one hell of a lot better than dying.
"It's aaaall good," he drawled to himself, stretching his arms out lazily as he walked through the cobblestone and dirt paths within the town, "I've just gotta find out what's going on, find some familiar faces, and-"
A low grumble came from somewhere deep bellow.
His walk came to a sudden stop. With a pitiful look, Zax looked down at his stomach and rubbed it like a neglected child. An' some food would be nice...
Ten minutes later saw him in the closest tavern he'd been able to find, at a small table in the corner waiting for a meal he'd ordered, drinking something called 'mead' that tasted like a mix of watered-down cheap beer and swamp water. He didn't have any normal currency of this world on him, he was sure, but the woman at the bar had seemed quite intrigued by the few gold Gil he'd had in his pocket and gladly taken them.
Anyone else might've been shifting awkwardly at the corner-table, because ever since he'd entered the town, Zax had been copping stared left, right and centre, and even though he'd placed himself in the most out-of-the-way table in the whole building, this treatment didn't stop.
"Jeez," he muttered to himself, looking up from his mead with an annoyed pout, "what's everyone's problem here? It's like they've never seen someone with spiky hair before or somethin'-"
"Oi, you!"
A large hand came down on the other side of the table, with a dull thud. Zax looked up at the burly man standing across from him wearing an ugly scowl paired fearsomely with the thickest toothbrush moustache the Ex-Soldier had ever seen. He was bordered by two other men, one equally as burly as himself and the other tall and lanky.
Zax tried to force a good-natured smile, but somehow he could already tell his usual charm wasn't going to get him out of this one. "What's up, old man?"
"We don't serve your kind here." the skinny man on the side growled, a pipe wobbling ungracefully between his lips as he spoke.
The raven blinked slowly. "My kind...?"
"Don't play dumb, we ain't stupid!" the first barked at him, attracting the attenti9on of anyone in the tavern who hadn't been looking their way already. The other two were slowly circling the table around to Zax's side as he spoke, as though they really thought he wouldn't be able to notice this.
"That ridiculous hair, and those eyes! They're glowing! You're one of them damn up-an'-downers!"
Zax's eyebrows shot up. "Huh?"
Where: Dilhum, north-central Pyris (down at the local tavern/hotel)
Who: Zax, a few racist tavern-goers and anyone else~? ♥
When he first came across the town, it was almost like something out of a medieval fantasy movie or game, the kind of virtual reality ones that all the kids in Midgar used to get hooked on. Zax had to admit, in his spare time (what little spare time he had) he might've enjoyed a few hours or ten of those games, but this was ridiculous.
Even as he walked towards the outer palisade wall of the decently-sized town (the guards standing on duty along the top of the wall peered down at him suspiciously), he was switching constantly between pinching himself to try and wake up from this weirdo dream, to tentatively running his fingers along his stomach and chest at the parts where he had remembered bullets hammering into his body.
He considered the possibility that both this and the fight on the cliff-edge could be dreams. Very vivid ones. Those lucid, almost sensory-equipped dreams that he would often have when he drifted away from reality in the tank...
No, 'cuz I definitely escaped he thought to himself then, a slight smile coming to him as he nodded firmly. Whatever this is, I shouldn't complain, because it's one hell of a lot better than dying.
"It's aaaall good," he drawled to himself, stretching his arms out lazily as he walked through the cobblestone and dirt paths within the town, "I've just gotta find out what's going on, find some familiar faces, and-"
A low grumble came from somewhere deep bellow.
His walk came to a sudden stop. With a pitiful look, Zax looked down at his stomach and rubbed it like a neglected child. An' some food would be nice...
Ten minutes later saw him in the closest tavern he'd been able to find, at a small table in the corner waiting for a meal he'd ordered, drinking something called 'mead' that tasted like a mix of watered-down cheap beer and swamp water. He didn't have any normal currency of this world on him, he was sure, but the woman at the bar had seemed quite intrigued by the few gold Gil he'd had in his pocket and gladly taken them.
Anyone else might've been shifting awkwardly at the corner-table, because ever since he'd entered the town, Zax had been copping stared left, right and centre, and even though he'd placed himself in the most out-of-the-way table in the whole building, this treatment didn't stop.
"Jeez," he muttered to himself, looking up from his mead with an annoyed pout, "what's everyone's problem here? It's like they've never seen someone with spiky hair before or somethin'-"
"Oi, you!"
A large hand came down on the other side of the table, with a dull thud. Zax looked up at the burly man standing across from him wearing an ugly scowl paired fearsomely with the thickest toothbrush moustache the Ex-Soldier had ever seen. He was bordered by two other men, one equally as burly as himself and the other tall and lanky.
Zax tried to force a good-natured smile, but somehow he could already tell his usual charm wasn't going to get him out of this one. "What's up, old man?"
"We don't serve your kind here." the skinny man on the side growled, a pipe wobbling ungracefully between his lips as he spoke.
The raven blinked slowly. "My kind...?"
"Don't play dumb, we ain't stupid!" the first barked at him, attracting the attenti9on of anyone in the tavern who hadn't been looking their way already. The other two were slowly circling the table around to Zax's side as he spoke, as though they really thought he wouldn't be able to notice this.
"That ridiculous hair, and those eyes! They're glowing! You're one of them damn up-an'-downers!"
Zax's eyebrows shot up. "Huh?"