Grab a drink

From the position of the sun, it's still early afternoon, but that doesn't appear to have stopped that lion or dragon from having a few drinks, and, being you have finally reached Igrandramnyr, it wouldn't hurt to grab a little something of your own to celebrate, surely? You have no idea if one pub is better than any other around here, but consider it might be best to try and find the crowd. You make your way slowly through the marketplace, squinting around the heads of taller anthros and around a few dragons- at least one of whom tries to sit on you as you get too close to his backside- trying to get an idea of the popular drinking establishments. The Old Crow... The Laughing Dragon... The Dancing Beaver... The Naughty Otter... at every three to five breaks in-between stalls, you swear you see another sign advertising either a pub or inn, or cookery that also serves beer or spirits, judging by the jovial shouts and sights of patrons through the windows. This makes sense with the town drawing so many guests for trade or studies, though it certainly doesn't make it any easier to choose. You're about to ask for recommendations from an actual local, barring that any given ferret or raven will probably have a different opinion, but then recall something your colleague Dr. Grufftun mentioned in one of his early letters, about having found "a very lively but comfortable" tavern where they had served him a very fine pomegranate liquor, which you recall him donating more space to describing in the letter than the actual pub itself. Still, if this is the south end of the market, and you just passed the alley leading to the banking district...

You continue about another block, past a shrew selling boots, ducking out of the way under an alcove as a shout is followed by a mole rushing along with a cart full of rutabagas, bound for the other end of the market, then are almost bowled over by a family of passing rabbits as the mother pulls her children along by their ears, scolding them for something about graffiti. Turning the corner and passing under a little arcade, you find yourself in a small square with a tailors, a storehouse, and a large wooden tavern of two-stories, the upper likely being an inn. The hanging sign above the open doors announces it as "The Carpenters' Arms, Inn and Tavern". You breathe a sigh of relief having found the place without getting terribly lost; if there's one thing the Professor can be relied upon for, besides rambling about his favorite foods, drinks, and academia, it's providing reliable directions. Despite it still being the afternoon, the tavern already appears to be attracting several patrons, as you see a large beaver chatting with a woman as they walk by you to enter, a group of raccoons are laughing over their mugs at a table near the window, and a pair of otters stumbles from the entrance, supporting one another as they sing a drinking song at the top of their voices. You were a bit worried about entering a tavern for larger anthros- or just dragons- after the badger mentioning the inn where he was staying earlier, as it would be rather difficult to enjoy a drink whilst spending most of your visit pressed beneath a butt or balls, but this crowd seems comfortably mixed.

The tavern isn't terribly packed as you enter inside, but still seems to attract its fair share of patrons, as a group of men who look like they might work unloading at the docks switch between coffee and whiskey as they play at cards, squinting with bleary eyes over their hands. A wolf couple observes the rest of the customers quietly at a table in the corner, while a toad reads a thick book and nibbles a loaf of bread, boots off with his webbed feet occupying another chair, and a group of rats play at dice, one swearing loudly as his friend opposite pockets several copper coins. You are a little nervous when you see the ram with the naked human on his lap, pressing the man's cock against his own through his loincloth as he rubs a paw down his back, and the huge brown bear pawing at herself as she farts deeply on the squirming upper half of a lizard, but since no one seems to have tried humping or farting on you yet, it's probably safe to stay. You notice with a small smile an emerald dragon cradling his human friend between his forelegs as they rest near the stairs to the upper level, scaly cheeks red from drink as the man gently pets across the backs of his claws. You aren't sure how lively this place will become in the evenings, but with its worn wooden interior and large windows at the front bringing in the afternoon sunshine, you would agree with Dr. Grufftun's assessment thus far, you consider as the dragon lets a soft belch in the man's hair in-between his purring.

Though about a third of the tables are occupied, there's only a stoat and a kestrel at the bar, so you wander over and take a seat along the counter. Neither of them seem large enough to try sitting on you, but are reflecting over their drinks, so you sit a few stools down and are promptly attended by a large female badger. Like most anthros her size, she looks like she could cover two stools at the same time with her rump, or maybe fit one up the front of her with a little effort. She smiles at you as she leans on the counter, and you notice immediately that unlike so many anthros thrice your weight, she's wearing actual clothing, that is to say, a white dress and a long brown apron, with a loose drawstring at the top from which her bosom hangs comfortably. She snorts as she notices you staring at her attire.

"Well, it comes with the territory, yeh?" she shakes her head as she wipes down the counter with an old rag, "I'm sure there's plentya folks who'd love t'run a bar dressed in nothin' but a diaper or loincloth, but I rather like the costume, t'be honest." She runs her paws down the side of her dress, and adjusts her top beneath her breast, "Just don't ask me t'tighten' up anythin'. This is as proper as we like t'be around 'ere," she gives a chuckle, "I can see it's ye first time 'ere."

"What makes you say that?" you realize stupidly the answer after asking that.

"Well, 'sides the fact that ye clothing isn't the sort I see too regular," she nods to your vest and trinket around your neck, "I can tell from ye accent an' the fact that I know all the regulars 'ereabouts and yer a new face t'me."

"But I haven't got an accent..." you begin to protest, but the badger raises a paw to stop you.

"An' that's another thing how I know," she says with a grin, showing her pointed teeth, "All you humans think ye don't 'ave an accent when yer from outta town, but ye ferget an anthro's ears can tell these things, even if ye don't hear it. But sayin' that..." she claps her paws together, "I'm 'ere for yer service, so what can I get ye? A room or a drink?"

"Um, a drink would be nice," you reply, eyeing the colored bottles displaying equally colorful liquids and deciding a nice pomegranate liquor might be a mite too expensive for your purse, "I'll have a cider, please."

"Aye, one cider, hope ye like it a little sweeter as we're outta the drier stuff," she uncorks a stopper from a green glass jar and returns a moment with your drink in a tall wooden mug.

"Now, if yer goin' to patronize 'ere, ye might as well tell us yer name, stranger," she shakes her head as you pull out your purse to withdraw a coin, "I don't 'ave too many rules 'ere, but number one- first one's always on the house."

"Surely that can't be good for business?" you ask after introducing yourself, taking a drink of your cider. It reminds you of Honeycrisp apples, rich and sweet, with a slight fizz.

"An' ye can call me Ablewyn," the badger replies as she readies another ale for the stoat, "An' on the contrary, I've found it's brought me many regulars over the years, an' I know everyone 'ere who's regular."

"Really?" you ask, curious, and gesture around the bar in invitation, "And how many are regulars today?"

"Aye, well, that's Cramson over there, keeps to hisself, mostly," she nods towards the toad reading, "The rats work down at the Byres Mill north'a town, the ram over there's Bisroc, all'ays bringin' in a human t'play with, 'as a couple he favors, and that fellow grindin' 'im's called Perry. Those wolves're Magro and Kelnt, very kindly, jus' like t'watch other folks in their age an' reminisce once'n a while," she smiles as she gestures to the dragon near the stairs, "Aye, an' that's Gamfyrn and James, sweetest couple in town, Spirits Bless 'em. Scaly one can't 'old 'is liquor worth a stone, but that 'asn't stopped 'im from tryin' at least twice e'ry week."

"A couple?" you ask as you watch Gamfyrn resting with eyelids closed, as James lays his head on the dragon's tan chest, "I thought dragons and humans couldn't mate?"

It was true that humans and anthros could have children, their offspring favoring the traits of one or the other species physically, though hearing or running abilities, for example, might be passed down. But humans and dragons, so far as you learned, were a different story.

"Sure, but that's not stoppin' 'em from tryin', now is it?" Ablewyn chuckles, chest heaving as her shoulders shake, while she polishes a glass, "That's 'ow some wizards get so powerful, ye know? Passes along some magic when ye get those dragon fluids on ye."

"Right, so I've heard," you acknowledge the familiar superstition with another drink of your cider.

"Speakin' o' the like," she nods to the green figurine you wear around your neck, "That's not a god I'm familiar with. Another reason I knew ye was from outta town."

"This is for Perseverance and Understanding, he is called Lodras," you hold up the totem of your Home Spirit to show it to her, passed down from your grandfather.

"This is for Determination and Harmony, called, er..." Ablewyn gives a few barks and grunts as she holds up the little pair of golden badger paws, clasped together and rendered in stunning fidelity, around her neck, "Well, there's nothing close in human tongue, no need fer it."

"You're more personable than any bartender I've had before," you say as Ablewyn checks her stock, withdrawing another two jugs of a blue spirit from beneath the counter and placing them on the shelf, "I can see why you do good business here."

"Aye, well, it comes with keepin' an inn and runnin' a good tavern, I should say," she nods her head and grins at the compliment, "I ought t'know as I've been at it for the better part a'ten years this winter."

"And sssshe'sss very good at it, certainly."

You shiver as you feel a pair of claws gripping gently across your shoulders as something warm and heavy presses across your back. You turn to see a large pair of scaly white breasts before a dark blue hooded head leans down and sticks out its forked tongue, licking across your face repeatedly. You aren't sure if anthro snakes use their tongues for tasting as well as smelling, but the cobra certainly seems to be enjoying you regardless. She licks you for a few moments before sucking across your nose in something that might be a kiss if it hadn't been so deep and moist, and then turns and saunters off, flicking her tongue back in your direction with a wink.

"Ah, I was wonderin' if Eshela would come by'n flirt wit' ye, an' o'course my suspicions were confirmed," the badger chuckles as she leans across the counter, "Careful round that 'un, laddie. She's as sweet as they come, but loves t'cuddle an' could offend the gods wit' her stench," the badger wrinkles her large black nose, "Ach, an' she blew ye a kiss, so she did!"

You aren't sure what she means until the stink of rotten eggs causes your entire face to wrinkle and your whole body shudders in revulsion. Ablewyn laughs as you fan the air with both hands, trying to get rid of Eshela's fart.

"Always give fair warnin' whenever she's curled up wit' a smaller friend," Ablewyn waves goodbye and calls out as the stoat gets up to leave, "Smells as bad as a dragon, she does. Poor Gamfyrn'd hold 'is nose around 'er tail if she got too close, so 'e would!"

"So..." you take a drink of your cider as you look around at the old tavern, "The Carpenters' Arms, eh? Arms like weapons, then? And what sort of carpenter carries arms anyhow?"

"An' if I had any doubts before, there ye go again," Ablewyn shakes her head and throws her paws into the air, "Everyone in town knows that story from birth practically. The four heroic carpenters who fought off a mess'a demons an' saved this town from bein' burned t'the ground? I'd've put good money on that story's been as traveled as any here."

"Well," you stare at the counter, feeling a little foolish for having asked, "I am from the south of Oreria, so maybe it hasn't traveled quite as far."

You drink your cider for a few moments, listening to an old shanty the dock workers are singing about returning home after a storm. One of the voices breaks and the others speak to their comrade in hushed tones of reassurance.

"Now, I can tell ye aren't a student by yer clothes, an' ye don't strike me as someone who's come in for just a drink," Ablewyn wipes down the counter where the stoat had been sitting, counting out the coins he left, "So can I interest ye in a room?"

Though a bit mystified by the badger's keen insight, you look into your purse and see that you have exactly five small silver coins. A copper will buy you a cider, and you might get a few nights off a standard room here, guaranteed clean with this money. You show Albewyn, and she nods a few times as she counts the coins with her eyes.

"I can't give ye a room on the upper floor without a silver large, as those're for extended stays, an' ye'd only get two nights wit' that," she places a paw on her chin and scratches it a moment, "But I can give ye a room on the lower level, one week all paid up, and I'll even throw in some bread in the mornin', jus' 'cuz I like ye," she beams and shows her teeth again, "Though... it is near the toilets, so don't be surprised if a big anthro makes a wrong turn in the middle o' the night."

As if on cue, a large wolf emerges from the room next to the one indicated following a loud flush, readjusting his cock with his paws under his loincloth.

"I'll change the sheets for free, if'n it comes t'that," Ableywn offers, extending her paw, then she grasps around her waist and groans, "Hold that thought a moment, if ye would..."

To your surprise, the big badger turns around and rears up on her footpaws, extending her big bottom over the edge of the counter so it's pointed at your face. Wearing nothing but the traditional loincloth under her dress, you see a two big fuzzy black buttocks before her tail raises and she passes an enormous fart in your face. Lowering her tail and dress normally, Ablewyn chuckles along with a couple of the anthro patrons as you fan away her gas and grimace.

"Sorry, friend, I've got a little cushion in the back I like t'use, but it's always more amusin' t'do it in a smaller friend's face, o'course," she reaches out a big paw to clap you on the shoulder, "An' I thought yer nose could handle a wee fart, eh? 'Specially since I smelt some stink from one'a me kind on ye the moment ye walked in!" she laughs and pats a huge paw on your shoulder.

You'd hate to be exposed to some of her larger farts if that was a little one, you think, as Ablewyn leans over the counter to speak to you.

"An' since ye took that so well, and are needin' a room, am I wrong in assumin' ye might be lookin' for work around town as well...?"

You nod slightly, finding your glass to be empty. Ablewyn pours you another cider and you place the copper coin on the counter to pay. Maybe a second drink is a bit much, though if she's offering work, it might be good to stay and hear it, and since you're at a tavern, you probably should buy something if you're going to remain at the bar counter.

"Now, it's not exactly being governor or anythin' o' that sort," she finishes pouring a few drinks for the rats, who have been drumming the table for another round. A weasel assistant fetches them on a wooden tray for delivery, "I've got Kramnik here doin' chores around the bar and e's experienced enough t'run the place when I'm takin' a break, an' I've got Orswiel for nights, but I could use a little helper for the rest'a the place."

You nod and she continues.

"Ye'll be makin' beds an' general 'ousekeepin', anthros are pretty clean in the toilets if ye can believe it, but ye'll 'ave to deal with clogs an' ye might be 'elpin' t'wipe now and again when they get 'orny, same with any dragons," she snickers and leans closer to you, "An' since ye took my gas jus' fine, I'll be usin' ye as my little cushion when I feel some farts comin' on, so as not t'offend any customers, mostly humans and any more sensitive anthros, seein' as most bigger folk don't take offense by it," you freeze as she reaches a paw across the table, placing it on your hand, "An' like I said..." her large brown eyes look into yours, "I like ye, human. So I might want ye fer my own pleasures now and again, if ye wouldn't object to't? Same as if ye stayed in a room 'ere. We get so little business in the mornin's and I wake up longin' fer company an' needin' a cushion."

You feel a little nervous at this proposal, inhaling sharply as you try not to break her gaze.

"What d'ye say, friend stranger?"