The #Broken_Dagger Forum

The tall, hulking figure of the mahogany-pelted minotaur squared its jaw and briefly flattened leathery ears. Clawed fingers scratch briefly at the broad, muscled chest, then smooth the fur ruffled by the motion. Approaching the bartender was not something the one-eyed warrior was looking forward to. Somehow, they never seemed to agree on anything, from orders placed to the amount of the tab. But! In this, the minotaur needed his help, or at least, his permission.

So, the benign features of the bartender were sought, and cloven hooves announced the minotaur's approach in hollow rasp against floorboards. Leaning on the counter, and waiting until the busy fellow had a moment, the minotaur then hailed him, rumbling voice issuing.

"Excuse me, Pritchard. Do you have a moment? I have something to get your opinion on." Were attention garnered, the one-eyed warrior would continue.

"I am thinking about trying to throw a festival of sorts together. I took part in a masquerade here once, and I was impressed. There needs to be something, would you not agree? This darkness is getting to everyone, with good reason. Something to lift folks' spirits is past due, arrenhen? There is no reaching the ithne spiders, nor spitting in the eye of the drow I hear is responsible, but a celebration with food and drink and this place decorated to blaze bright and long... it would hearten some, I believe. Not to mention, in the darkness, it would attract you more customers. I know this will cost coin - I am trying to get the funds. So perhaps, if you give me a couple weeks... set the date for the third of the ninth month, and I will work towards gathering the needed supplies and help. What say you, sir?"

Leathery ears perk, long tail swishing back and forth.

Smash had found himself, once again, in the Broken Dagger. No specific purpose in it, or anything like that -- he was simply lounging back as much as the half-comfortable chair would allow, smoking.

Not much more than the occasional exhale ring of burned leaves would escape him for quite a while, and the goblin found himself listening to the conversation happening at the bar. Priority over the others, perhaps, because of the patron's unusual nature. Smash hoped it wasn't an 'average' customer.

Nothing said had much meaning for him. He understood it all, quite perfectly, but it was none of their business. Festival. So what? Ah, but then the goblin's mind started thinking, and Smash's eyes went wide as the imaginary light blinked on over his head.

Smash chuckled, and immediately departed the Broken Dagger.

Another day, but now that the sun was out and could shine unimpeded, at least one could tell that much. Again, the batender is approached by the black-maned minotaur, who waits until he's a free moment before speaking.

"Greetings Pritchard," The reinstatement of the sky, wind, sun and stars, and the march of the moon through its phases had created a genial mood in the warrior's heart, and the rumbling voice was actually warmer than merely polite. "It looks as though there will be no call for the festival after all. I thank you for your consideration of the notion, however. Good day to you."

With a dip of long horns to the man, the minotaur turns and heads out. After so long without the sun, today cannot be spent indoors.