Choose Your Poison! Vol.2 [Sovereign Charter Only]

[Asgareth]

Choose Your Poison!

Volume 2

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You stand in the middle of an empty street in Asgareth. The rain pours fiercely from the heavens. Perhaps you’re a tourist, from as far away as Valtameri or Strei-Ar? Or maybe you are a Meridian businessman? Maybe you don’t know how you got here; all that you know is that you are stood in the middle of a street filled with pubs.

The rain is pouring from above. Thunder roars in the distance, edging closer and closer. You’ve so happened to come to Asgareth in the worst storm it has seen this decade. Lightning flashes are frequent; already two houses have caught fire (though thankfully, they are no where near you). Photographers eagerly try to catch the best picture of this event, and move you to one side. You decide it is best to head indoors; a pub would do quite nicely.

For some reason or another, you are drawn to this particular pub. The Sovereign Bar. You enter, and hang your coat and umbrella accordingly. You gaze around the pub, studying its every nook and cranny. The fireplace is unlit; or perhaps it isn’t a fireplace.
The shoddy outlook of the bar does not reflect its patrons. They come from all walks of life; bounty hunters, politicians, military generals, journalists – there is nothing that connects them except their presence in this establishment.

A sign hangs next to the menu. It states “Drinks are no longer on the house”. You sigh, before reading the menu, which you find quite extensive:

Sovereign Bar Menu

Beers

Asgarthian Ale:
The finest ale from Asgareth. It is a favourite among our patrons, and is available on tap and in bottles. Best served at room temperature

Olwarish Stout:
A traditional Olwar stout, traditionally brewed for up to 18 months. It has a hearty flavour, and is guaranteed to ensure you enjoy your night.

Gespian Lager:
A sweet tasting beer, the Gespian lager is light and fizzy. A non-alcoholic alternative is available for drivers.

Brian's Smooth:
A disgusting beer from Cambrius. Best enjoyed when under duress

Wines

Murphy's Champagne:
This champagne is recommended by the Shuraya's

Rhaeticum:
From Verona in the North East of Italia, this wine is aged for 12 years or more. A favourite of the god Augustus, it is to be drank with pork and never beef (though we serve neither).

Formianum:
A lovely white from the Gulf of Caieta, it is aged for 7 years. Best served with white fish (Prawn and cocktail crisps work just as well)

Spirits

Dragnian Vodka:
A sharp vodka, originiating from North Asgareth. Available either straight or mixed.

Drengali Rum:
A delicious rum, best served straight. Originally from North Asgareth, it is a dark rum, enjoyed by many.

Adrani Whiskey:
A new whiskey that we are trialing. We encourage patrons to try this straight, so as to enjoy its full flavour.

Penderyn Whisky
A very passable Whisky from Cambrius

Mezcal:
Made from Natufian agave plants, found in the north of The Natufian Nation. Highly recommended by patrons.

World Traditions

Natufian Arkhi:
Fermented Auroch milk, called Tarag, acrid, earthy taste to it. 10%ABV. An interesting drink from The Natufian Nation

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Barrels of Asgarthian Ale and Olwarish Stout may be purchased. Ask the barkeep for more details.

From time to time, patrons recommend new alcoholic substances. These are trialled for 3 months and may become a permanent fixture on the menu.

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Crisps: Salt & Vinegar, Vorka Cheese & Onion, Ready Salted & Prawn Cocktail Available

Peanuts & Pork Scratchings Available Upon Request

A range of non-alcoholic drinks, including tea, coffee and fizzy drinks are also available. Ask the barkeep for further details.

Spices available for Roman wines, upon request (charge payable)

In front of you stands your humble barkeep Tim; a large fellow with a bushy beard. He is absent-mindedly wiping down the bar, clearly having not noticed you yet. He turns away, and begins to wipe some glasses with a grubby cloth. A few minutes pass before he speaks.
“Well? What can I get for you?” He says, as he lays one of those “freshly” wiped glasses in front of you. “Beer? Wine? Maybe some Whiskey?”

• The Fourth Sovereign Charter residents only. You must be a member of the aforementioned region to participate.
• This is a New Player friendly RP. Take this as a chance to dabble your feet, or make your nation known on the world stage. I'd advise you play as a politician, a military official, a journalist, or someone with connections to your national government. Check out the various regional factions, and national attributes.
• There are no quality restraints on this RP. One liners are permitted, particularly in cases of dialogue. With that said, please feel free to describe and customise your posts as much as you want. Ideally, one liners will be limited.
• The Sovereign Bar Menu is liable to be changed. If you feel that your nation would supply a drink, please telegram me, Asgareth, and I’ll put it on!
• If you have any ideas for the RP please knock yourself out. This is your RP. Have fun!
• Choose Your Poison! Vol.1 can be found here.

[Jiqaz]

An unasuming man walk in, perhaps a backpacker touring the world, perhaps an expat looking for a new home, or maybe even an exiled politician who took his campaign too far. All that is outwardly available to draw conclusions from is a heavy backpack that is soon set the the side of his chosen seat, and a mask the hides the Zrikan's face. His attention soon focused on the barkeep.
"Give me a Dragnian mix"

[Heartfilia]

A young woman rushes in, she miserable as her seemingly costly attire is soaking wet. She possibly from a wealthy family. She looks around realizing where she hid from the rain, and walk up to the bar and speaks to the barkeep. "umm... this is very unladylike of me but may I please have your finest Rhaeticum."

[The Lost Spiral]

Dripping drinks False talk,
Crowded and clamorous hall,
Closed minds forced open.

The figure was wrapped in heavy, purple robes and dripping wet from the storm outside. Hands, strapped up in pink leather strips, emerged slowly to flick droplets away from softly glowing eye lenses visible under the hood's lip. Stomping and shaking the shawl to dislodge any remaining pockets of water, the figure carefully surveyed the room before strolling up to the bar and withdrawing a thick, bulging pouch from its robes.

Made from pale pink leather and with a stamped spiral adorning its side, audible chinks could be heard as the purse was dropped onto the polished and stained wood of the bar itself. With a gentle, two fingered sliding move, the purse was tipped onto its side and spilled open, revealing a collection of glinting gold. The shrouded head tilted back to look up at the barman and a soft yet digitally filtered voice emerged from the hood, amplified to the point that not only could it be heard above the ambient noise in the pub but discernable to everyone within it as well.

"Drinks for everyone, for the night, on me."

[Condit]

The door opens and closes swiftly, letting in a well dressed man who swiftly removes his rain jacket to reveal a charcoal gray slim fit suit with matching pants was worn over a soft blue cutaway collar button up shirt and black derby shoes. A gray and black diagonal striped tie in a trinity knot completed his torso while a matte black homburg with a white feather on the band completes his head. He held a cane in his left hand, the top of which was a polished piece of obsidian, and his right hand was covered by a black glove.

He removes the hat to reveal a full head of reddish-brown hair that was cut fairly short. A goatee completes the look. His brown eyes scan the tavern, noting the other occupants in the building. Another man and a woman and…a pink thing he was guessing was another woman. Who offered to buy everyone’s drinks for the entire night. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he immediately orders a Mezcal, wanting to try that out since it seemed to be popular. That done, Therion turns to the other patrons and smiles his best smile.

“So, what brings you all to this wet wonderland?”

[Romae in Perpetuum]

“Did someone say free drinks?” Came a clipped, but groggy, voice from a booth in the back. Anyone looking back would see two men slumped over a table surrounded by a frankly astonishing number of empty glasses. The two had clearly been there since the previous night, and one was still out cold using an empty packet of crisps as a pillow.
The other, however staggered to his feet, stretched and yawned ferociously. He was tall, but still quite young, with dark long hair that fell haphazardly down a thin face. He was dressed in a dark red tunic, embroidered with gold, that would have looked quite dashing if it had not been ruined by various stains and crumpled from a night spent in a booth.

“Quite sporting of you…err madam? Sir? Robot? Oh whichever.” the man said, slapping the robed figure on the back boisterously as he worked his way to the front of the queue.
“Tim!” He called amicably, having sauntered past the others and rapping his knuckles on the bar. “The usual whisky, and if you water it down again, I’ll…” He stopped suddenly, noticing the sodden figure in the expensive apparel.

“Oh hello.” The man said with a very valiant attempt at a winning smile, despite his clear hangover. “Is that Rhaeticum? Said to be the favourite drink of Augustus Caesar you know! Though, if you ask me, the quality has either dropped in two thousand years or the god had terrible taste… I believe one of the family estates makes a very similar wine. Oh, how rude of me!” He stuck out a hand to the young woman.
“I’m Quintus Valerius Marcellus, and you can probably guess where I’m from. Who might you be?”

[Heartfilia]

"why hello there Monsieur Marcellus" she replies in a sweet and elegant voice as she lays her hand on his "I'm Madeline Annett Forbes from Heartfilia" she then pulls her hand back slowly and replies "you are correct it isn't the finest quality of wine I've had, but it will do." she takes the last sip of her glass of Rhaeticum. "I'm sorry I must look a mess the rain caught me by surprise." she pulls up a pocket mirror and pouch and starts to retouch her makeup.

[Romae in Perpetuum]

“Not at all Mademoiselle.” Marcellus said smoothly. “You’re by far the prettiest thing I’ve seen since I came to this dreary country.”
That wasn’t necessarily a lie, following a very brief tour of western Valyrien (the less said about that hellhole the better) he and his companion had returned to Asgareth and had been drinking solidly ever since. He had no idea what city he was in and was only semi-sure this was Asgareth because of the dismal wine list…frankly he was glad to be sober enough to recognise that the beautiful woman across from him was in fact a woman and not a lamp post.

The young man grinned confidently. “I’ll admit to being intrigued. I’ve never heard of your nation, but I must assume you to be Gauls from the accent, lovely though it is. I apologise for the wine, Tim here is far too cheap to import the good stuff from the Imperium, but it tastes much better with spices and honey. I’d be happy to demonstrate, or…” He again knocked at the bar since the bartender’s attention seemed to be wandering. “They stock a very interesting Cambrian whisky, a dreary place but the people enjoy a drink and it shows…May I?”

[Heartfilia]

Madeline looks down and says softly "that's very sweet of you, but I don't know how my fiance or my family for a matter a fact would react if they find out I'm talking to a stranger at a pub" she thinks back to when she first found out that her parents arranged her to get married to a wealthier nobleman who was much older than her, and how she pleaded with them to not let this happen but they didn't care. On the day of her wedding, she went to the family safe and took loads of money and packed her favorite clothes and left the manor. she looked up and turned her head staring into Marcellus' eyes and cheerfully says, "but who gives a damn am I right show me this interesting whiskey."

[The Lost Spiral]

Poisoned fruit bears Truth,
Eternal grip leads the way,
Unwanted discourse.

"Therion, isn't it?" A small hand wrapped in pink leather stretched out to grasp his in a long shake, the softly glowing lenses turned purple as they turned up to look him in his eyes, "To both answer your question and push my own agenda, I am here to talk about our lords and saviours, the Eternal Ones.".

The figure let go of his hand, revealing the large golden coin she'd pressed into his palm, it seemed to flicker in the light and the twisting spiral engraved upon its surface appeared to be spinning, giving those who gaze upon it a tension headache. The voice, now only a whisper he could faintly hear, "Is it not beautiful?".

A slap on the back drew the purple robed individual's attention away, turning to gaze upon the boisterous Roman who'd just gone to the bar and started chatting up a lady there. Listening to their conversation, the figure procured two glasses of the discussed whisky and joined the pair of them, "Here, take a glass.", turning to the lady called Madeline the figure continued, "It is good you are going to have sex. Do not be concerned with artificial constructs such as marriage, carnal relations please the Eternals."

[Romae in Perpetuum]

Eternals? The young Roman thought. Oh great, probably some Rusinian cult that has gotten too far out of hand. Or maybe something to do with those mad bacchants, who occasionally rioted during the Liberalia, if the carnal forthrightness meant anything. Either way zealots usually were the death knell of a pleasurable evening…usually.
“Then I must imagine our robotic friend here doesn’t please them much…” Marcellus whispered conspiratorially to Madeline with a wink.
He took a sip from the whisky and smacked his lips. “that’s Penderyn alright. Not exactly the best tasting whisky in the world, but strong enough that you don’t much care by the end of the evening!” Marcellus raised the glass to the young woman. The mention of a fiancée didn’t perturb him in the slightest, if the fool didn’t care enough to keep a close enough eye on his betrothed, that was his mistake.

“To your good health, lady.” Then he knocked the drink back in one and turned his attention to the purple mummy.
“Please, allow me to buy you a drink in return! What would you like…err…whoever you are?"

[Condit]

As the obviously drunk Roman tries to get his game on, Therion is handed a golden coin and asked his opinion on it. He lifts it to the light slightly and deftly flips it between his fingers. ”If these Eternals are money I dare say I can embrace such a religion.” Ever a child of Condit, the prospect of money always called out to him. Therion tosses the coin up and lets it land flat on his hand before dropping it and snapping his finger, sending the coin lightly back to the person who’d handed it to him.

However, such a religion would be the only one I’m interested in. Money is indeed the root of all evil, and as we all know evil is where you find the finer pleasures in life. Speaking of…” He steps around her and grabs the drink he’d ordered, tossing it back and grimacing at how smooth it went down. He knew he’d regret having too much, might end up like the Roman over there trying to get a woman drunk. Therion needed his wits about it. Wits that were currently screaming due to one simple fact.

He’d never given this person his name yet they knew it. That alone was an issue since it meant he was failing, rather horribly, at his job. Still, since that cat was out he might as well roll with the punches. As Marcellus begins speaking to the robed figure, Therion steps out of that conversation and into one with the woman. ”Good day. Madeline, I heard? I’ve not heard of Heartfilia before, perhaps you could help fill my gaps of knowledge over a good meal?”

[Heartfilia]

Madeline ignored the comment made by the figure and just smiled. Marcellus then made a comment that followed with a wink which made Madeline blush. she then takes a sip of the whiskey and starts to pucker her lips as she never had anything stronger than wine or champagne, but continues to take little sips. She then heard her name called, and she turned to see who was calling her.

The man that called her was quite dashing, and his suit was very lavish, and she wondered if he was a nobleman or a businessman. She was asked a question by the man, and she was unsure of how to reply so she quickly Responded "You are too kind for the offer, but I can tell you right here if you want? she went on to explain "I'm not surprised you don't know about Heartfilia it's a small nation in the southwest, it doesn't allow anyone in unless you a citizen, the Imperial family likes that way so that the heartfilian 'blood' stays pure." "would you like to know anything more?" she said joyously. "Oh, I'm sorry I haven't had your name yet, how may I address you?"

[Asgareth]

The bar had suddenly roared into life. Tim had never seen it so busy since… well, since the Great Griffin incident 3 years ago. The patrons appeared to be from all walks of life and from all sorts of places. He definitely detected the pretentious voice of a Roman, but the majority of accents were new to him.

Many years ago, the Sovereign Bar had attracted people from all over the world. In more recent times, its clientele had mostly been Rusinans – and even then they were rarely from further north than Drekhi.

The masked man had lingered in the corner of the bar. Tim had been most surprised when he requested a Dragnian mix – most of his patrons would have been insulted by such a request. But Tim wanted to be paid, and poured plenty of lemonade in with the vodka. Another man had requested a Mezcal. Mezcal had proven surprisingly popular since its introduction some years ago. Tim still wasn’t sure what it was, but it tasted good and sold well. The Roman, meanwhile, had requested a bountiful supply of whiskey. Tim was a good and honest landlord Tim and so he had continued to water down the Roman’s drink it was all for the Roman’s own good after all. Penderyn Whiskey was the devil’s drink. He’d be much safer with Adrani Whiskey.

The woman dressed in purple robes had been the most peculiar of the newest intake. Her proclamation that she would pay for everyone’s drinks did not sit well with Tim. For starters, he had spent the last month overcharging the Roman pair by a considerable amount. Secondly, free drinks would only lead to a busy bar. And a busy bar would mean more work for Tim. He was not impressed.

Tim had managed to stop his laugh as the Heartfilian lady informed the Roman about his fiancée, but he completely lost it when the purple robed lady inadvertently called out Marcellus’ true intentions. He had had to hid under the bar as the laugh echoed to his core. By the time he recomposed himself, Madeline had already moved onto Therion, of Condit. Tim smirked to himself. If there was one thing he could count on, it was Marcellus embarrassing himself.

Tim grabbed a bottle of Rhaeticum, and walked towards Madeline. He poured a glass, and offered it to her.
“You can have the bottle if you slap Marcellus before 10” He quipped at her, half-seriously.

It was at this point that another patron entered. Her hair and coat were soaking wet from the downpour outside, and she was shivering on the spot.
“Cold one out there Tim.” She called.
Tim glanced at her for a moment, before recognising the woman in question.
“Thora? Thora Yeltsin? Blimey, I haven’t see you since”
“The griffin, yes. Did they ever catch the creature in the end?”
Tim chuckled. “Oh no. You can hear him in the city at night sometimes. Eating rubbish, cats… a baby once.”
Thora smiled. “I’m looking for my brother. Seen him?”

“Which one?” quipped Tim.
Thora chuckled. “Parolin is still in hospital. The mammoth that headbutted him did some serious damage to his posterior.”
“Ah, Nelvarn then? Well… I have to ask… Is this official business?”
“Nope.” Thora smirked. “Strictly personal.”
Nope. He hasn’t been here in months. Most unusual. Last I heard he was in Auruum.”

Thora nodded in appreciation at the news. She’d already headed out east to look for him, but to no avail. “Idiot forgot his mother’s birthday. If he isn’t already dead, he will be by the time he gets back.”
Tim chuckled. “So what can I get for you?”
“Drengali mixed with… Mezcal.”
Tim looked at her. “You sure? Do you remember what happened last time?”
“It’s one of those nights.” Thora stated with a smile.

Once she had received her drink, she headed off to talk to the patrons of the bar. Her first target was the masked man. She sat down next to him and began to speak.
“Evening sir. Enjoying your drink?” She picked it up and sniffed it. “Ah.. Dragni. Yes, fine stuff that. Don’t drink too much mind. You’ll regret it tomorrow.” She gulped the drink down, leaving the empty glass in front of the man, before she continued. “Listen, I’m looking for someone. A dodgy fellow. Typically hangs around in the backstreets of Asgar. Grey hair… surprisingly slim. Seen anyone like that around?”

[Jiqaz]

A smirk spread across what was visable of his face. "Dont worry, this is just to get started." It wasn't long before he downed the mix. He set the glass down, turning to Therion. "Guess you could say I'm backpacking round these parts until thing settle down back home."

[Haja-Mishu]

A tall, black haired gentleman with a large and well maintained beard no older than 40 quietly entered the bar. He was decked in a crimson shirt under a plain black frock coat with a peacock-green silken sash. He wore a slightly baggy pair of matching black pants and a pair of porpoise skin boots. Him and his expensive ensemble was strangely dry despite having no umbrella. He spared a quick cursory glance across the bar noting the patrons and reading the menu before taking a few long, slow, strides to the bar with a practiced air of haughty apathy. He approached the bar, not even bother to spare a glance at the barman before pulling a 10 by 20 centimeter white brick out of his black jacket and placing it on the bar before saying in a low, flat, voice "Bottle of Murphy's Champagne and some pork scratchings." passively staring at the wall above the shorter barman. satisfied that the little creature would serve him he turned around and leaned his back against the bar while still managing to look utterly pompous. Admittedly the glance he spared the bar when he walked in was very brief so he didn't really get a chance take in anything other than the menu. It was clear the shameless womanizer was one of those skirt-wearing savages, Rumins, they called themselves, or something like that, he didn't really care, just another remote foreign tribe of sheep-defilers. The robed figure however, did peek his interest, the amount of robage initially made him wonder if she was a Renariar Magister, but she surely couldn't have been, for she was far too short and wearing the wrong color, not too mention Renariars weren't the type to hang around in pubs in the first place. He noted several other foreign (and therefore unclean) faces and accents he did not recognize, he never the knew the number of foreign tribes was great but he didn't know there were this many, a fun little surprise, perhaps some of them were even profitable.

[Heartfilia]

Madeline sees the barkeep approach her and he pours her a glass Rhaeticum. He offers her the bottle for the simple task of slapping Marcellus. Madeline in all her life has never slap nor even insulted a person before, and the thought thrilled her "watch me" she said, She then stood up and adjusted her dress. she walked her way to Marcellus. The sound of her heels hitting the ground was ever-present as it echoed throughout the pub. "excusé Moi monsieur Marcellus" he turned toward Madeline, and both were staring eye to eye, and she preceded to slap Marcellus. Her hand covered her mouth, and she was shocked at what she did "oh my god I'm so sorry" Madeline places her hand on his upper chest to comfort him. "I'm so sorry, I did this for a free bottle of wine, I don't know what I was doing this is so unlike me" her eyes slowly began to water as she stares into his eyes.

[Asgareth]

Tim handed over a packet of pork scratchings to the Shurayan and poured some Murphy’s Champagne. He handed over a glass, before stating “Finest pork scratchings in all Rusina, these are. Mr. Porkies Pork Scratchies.” He went back to wiping down glasses with his filthy cloth, before he heard a loud commotion. He looked up just in time to see Marcellus rubbing his face, and Madeline tenderly looking over him. He chuckled to himself – he didn’t think she’d actually do it.

He was in two minds as to whether to actually give Madeline the bottle. Yes, he had made the bet, but he could hardly allow his bar to descend into violence. He was already close to losing his license because he was serving foreign beer – a police investigation was the one thing he did not need. Nevertheless, he opted to reward Madeline. “Here.” He tapped her on the shoulder. “The bottle, as promised.”
The bottle in question was considerably smaller than your typical wine bottle – perhaps 75ml. He smiled as he handed it over. “Don’t drink it all in one sitting.”

Meanwhile, Thora had given up on the masked man. He had no news for her. She headed back to the bar for another drink, but was knocked out of the way as the purple robed lady swiftly made an exit. Her swift exit made Thora somewhat suspicious, but with the rain pouring harder than ever, Thora decided not to follow her. Besides, Thora reasoned, how hard could it be to find a purple robed lady in Asgareth?

With the purple robed lady gone, another issue now arose. Patrons now had to pay for their drinks again. Thora threw a handful of Imperial Stars at Tim, and graciously accepted her drink. She decided she would try her luck with the large group that had appeared to form around Marcellus. The young girl, Madeline, was still consoling the Roman, as Thora stepped up.

“Police!” She yelled.
Technically, Thora wasn’t lying. She had been a police officer in Asgareth before becoming a private detective. The reason for the change of career? She was simply too violent for the Asgarthian police force.

She finished her drink, and threw the glass directly at the feet of Therion. “You!” She yelled. “Have you seen a man? Grey hair…. Surprisingly slim…. Eyepatch?”

[Asgareth]

Another day, another roaring business. Tim had found himself usually busy over the last week. Peoples and beings from all over had visited the bar, bringing in a whole range of stories – and perhaps most importantly, a lot of money.

Now though, the bar appeared to be back to normal.There were currently three individuals in the bar. Sat on a barstool, an old man clutched his cigar closely, while he surveyed the latest news from the Evening Crusader. A dozen or so empty whiskey glasses were lined up next to him. The man was one Parolin Yeltsin. A successful mammoth hunter, he had headed back home for the off-season in the hopes of catching up with either his sister or brother – but to no avail so far. Parolin downed another glass of whiskey, and tapped his knuckles on the bar, signalling for another one. Tim swiftly poured six. “That’ll keep you busy”, he quipped as he did. Parolin chuckled as he looked around the bar. He was looking for a fight. But with who?

In the corner, a middle-aged woman sat clutching her vodka. Ryla Olwarnan had been a regular at the Sovereign Bar for many years. She remembered the Griffin Incident – indeed, conflicting reports suggested she caused it. Visibly, she had a scar run across her left cheek – a memento of her time in the 1st Jaeger Division. Many years ago, she and her twin sister, Petra, had piloted the jaeger Potelia. They’d won many accolades for their service. Nowadays, Petra was somewhere up north – she’d become a successful author. Ryla meanwhile, was simply a drunk. In her younger years, Ryla had been something of a party animal but nowadays she drank alone. Indeed, Ryla didn’t like drinking alone. She needed a friend – but who?

In a pew, sat a young woman. Agent Androli Benti of the Asgarthian Intelligence Service held her glass of Formianum in the air. Androli couldn’t help but feel bored. Her partner, Den Romanli had been reassigned to the city of Dakhla, in Epilo, as part of the protection unit for Ambassador Pera. Until he returned, Androli would have little work with the service. Therefore, she had decided to go on holiday. She had been thinking of where to go. In truth, she wanted to stay in Rusina, but that didn’t appear an option. She was permanently banned from Pirinikov, following a disastorous mission, and would be most unwelcome in Valyrien, Myraxia and Iryllia. She had no desire to head back to Drekhi, where she had spent many summers in her youth, and Nocturnalis was even more unappealing. Instead, she would have to head abroad. But where? Perhaps another patron would know?

[Arcyrskia]

The door opened showing a hooded broad figure in the opening, slowing walking to a chair in the bar while taking off his hood. Revealing a man, not old but also not young, scarred, black haired and wearing a eye-patch. When he finally sits on a chair he asked with a heavy accent to the bartender: "Привет товарищ, do you have Arcyrskian Vodka?"

[Asgareth]

Tim shook his head as the man spoke.
“We got… Dragnian or…. Dragnian” He stated, as he began to pour “Good stuff. It may help your eye grow back!” Tim handed over the drink, “50 Ruons, plus tip” He requested, holding out his hand.

It was at this moment, that Parolin turned to the eye-patch man.
“Russian?” He enquired. “You sure you can handle that? I’ve seen greater men die from Dragnian.” He motioned at the bottle. “Aye, I’m familiar with your type. Met some of you in Greater Slavacia during the mammoth season. You from Slava, by any chance? I hate those guys. Damn CHEATS!” He slammed his hand on the bar as he yelled out the last word.

[Arcyrskia]

The eye-patched man took the glass of vodka and dronk it in one gulp, than looked at Palolin and sayed:
"That you've seen a popular stereotype drinking vodka, Doens't mean that i'm part of IT!" He placed the glass back on the table with the last word. And than he continued speaking: "If you really wanna know where i came from…… here have postcard…… we can always use the tourists." Than he placed a postcard on the table which read: "Come visit Arcyrskia!"

Than he looked at Tim and sayed: "Ti…… uhhhh…… Tim…… Right? Here have 55!" As he placed 55 Rouns on the table.

[Asgareth]

Tim examined the Ruons closely. They were a bizarre currency; used in many bars and inns across the world but seemingly nowhere else. He'd felt rather insulted at such a small tip. "That it, I suppose? Well, I suppose you're better than that Roman at least. Still hasn't paid me for his first drink!"

Parolin, meanwhile, studied the postcard closely. "Arcyrskia? Nope. Not familiar with that. What are you? A region in Slavacia?" He downed his whiskey and motioned for another. "Well if you don't drink vodka, what do you drink? Don't tell me you're one of those nancies that drink Rhaeticum? I spent 5 months slumming it out in Rome on that stuff. Never again."

[Heartfilia]

Madeline wakes up in a pile of coats next to Marcellus, she's confused as to what day it is as she feels like she's been blacked out for days she quickly gets up and adjusts her corset she walks to the bathroom with her makeup pouch to touch up a bit.

As soon as she made her way into the bathroom a tall buff man walks in he’s dressed in a Heartfilian imperial guard uniform which is bright red with two vertical blue stripes, gold cuffs/buttons, and white pants. He held up an image of young blond women. He cleared his throat and said, ”Excuse me I'm looking for this young woman her name is Madeline Annett Forbes has anyone seen her it's urgent royal matters”. His voice was deep and fierce and walked to the bar and talked to Tim “I’m sorry to interrupt your conversations commoner but I’m told you are the bar owner and this young women” he continued to show her image “has been missing for weeks and I’ve been told this is the last place she was seen do you have any information on her whereabouts there is a hefty reward for her safe return”

[The Natufian Nation]

Amid all the commotion and general rowdiness, no one seemed to notice the door to the Sovereign Bar open again. In stepped a young, 20-something man with dark olive-toned skin, wearing a sleek, blue pin-striped suit. His long black hair was bound in a pony-tail with a silver-plated clasp. From his collar fell a fine bolo tie of dyed Aurochs leather, centered with a polished black onyx clasp with his tribal symbol engraved in silver inlay. This was Voss al-Tariq, and he was no stranger to the bar. It had been a while since his last visit, owing to a financial crisis back in this homeland of the Natufian Nation. But things were better and he was on the move again.

Voss’s eyes widened with delight and he beamed his polished white teeth in a generous smile upon seeing the crowd. So many people and accents from lands he didn't recognize. He made his familiar way to the bar and warmly greeted the bartender.

“Tim, good to see you again!” Voss beamed. “I saw you almost doubled your Mezcal order and I had to come by and see for myself. It is selling well, yes? I hope you’re selling it at a profitable rate!” and he laughed in elation. “Say, I’m back in Asgareth on business. My day job is still with the ranching syndicate but you know I’m always looking for a good side hustle. Is there anybody here you think I should be talking to?”