Nothing out of the usual

For 50 days, or even more

The rope went slack, then tight once more

All ships were lost, there were only four

But still, that shoggah did flee (huh)

A bard sweetly picked his guitar, stringing notes together into a frantic riff, complementing his stoic drummer as the lead singer, a male elf clothed in colorful bardic attire with long green hair and sporting several ear pier icings, stomped, stamped, and clapped his hands. The crowd, already rowdy: some singing, others arm wrestling, and a few couples dancing an impromptu square dance, started hooting and stomping and clapping. Dust shook from the rafters of the tavern, windows shook with ****, but nobody cared.

Miriamelle clutched Dazar’s elbow, nervous, as they crossed the threshold into the Laughing Cat Inn. The first floor, laid out before her, was one giant room, the size of a large lecture hall. The entryway spilled into the middle of the room and, on her left, a full bar: seemingly hundreds of different bottles of liqueur were stocked. On the far side, a stairway wound up the next level; conveniently placed a few feet from the second entrance. Empty, only the bartender, an incredibly short brunette wearing a brown and black shoulder-less dress tied by a black belt, remained. Apparently, everyone in attendance migrated to the concert taking place to Miri’s right. Packed to the gills, Miriamelle counted forty heads before giving up; all reveling in the shanty the band played.

Da-da, da-da-da-da

Da-da-da-da, da-da-da-da-da

Da-da, da-da-da-da

Da-da-da-da-da-da

“Come on, Jax only plays on Friday’s,” Dazar grabbed Miri’s shoulder, and made headway toward the bar. Miri only nodded. She followed closely, hands clutching the dwarf’s arm. Even though the music stirred her breast, Miri felt over-stimulated by the crowd and wanted nothing more than to get out of the inn.

“Damn Dazar! Does Matilda know you’ve found some new eye-candy?” The bartender hailed Dazar and slid him a frothy beer across the oak bar.

“Quiet, Tina,” Dazar laughed, bubbles covering his upper lip. “Tina, meet Miriamelle, my apprentice. Miri, this is the Laughing Cat’s bartender, Tina.”

The vertically challenged bartender hopped onto the bar, so the two girls could look each other in the eye. Tina had beautiful green eyes, and a smattering of freckles broke up her otherwise smooth pale skin. Miri tried not to stare at her deep cleavage. It was possible the short-stack had larger breasts than she herself did, given their height differences. Larger than Miri’s hand, she estimated those prodigious boobs came most of the way down her stomach. She tried not to imagine how sexy she would look naked. Her skin shined with sweaty moisture, which gave her a healthy color. Once more, the tall girl tried not to imagine how lovely that color would look without the long dress. The bartender smiled and offered her hand, “Nice to meet you, Miri. Don’t you mind my teasing, Matilda’s my godmother, and Dazar here,” she cupped her mouth and gestured at the dwarf rogue with her other hand, “is a known womanizer.”

Frightened though she felt, Miri couldn’t resist laughing, a high clear sound. Miriamelle took the proffered hand and greeted the short girl, “It’s nice to meet you, Tina. I love your confidence!”

“Thanks hon! Nobody asks for the shy bartender after all.”

“Alright. Can’t believe I haven’t fired you for insubordination!” Dazar grumbled, beer in hand. “Say, is Steve or Berus around?”

The short raven-haired woman made a face, blowing a raspberry at Dazar before turning around and jumping down behind the counter. “Yea, Steven’s son got sick a couple nights ago; they’re at the temple of Sarenrae last I heard. Berus and I’ve been running the show since… By the by, Jax really stepped up. His performance tonight is in dedication to them, and all proceeds are going to pay back the clerics.”

“That’s a damn good elf!” Dazar declared, slamming his empty mug down. “Tell you what, go find Berus and have him set Miri up with a room, then take a lunch. I’ll man the bar for a spell.”

“That’s why you are the best, boss!” Tina beamed, relief evident in her eyes as she took off her apron with a flourish. She bustled past Miri and went up the stairs.

“Come, sit, looks like Tina hasn’t updated the menu…” Dazar squinted at the chalkboard hanging over the bar with a list of meals and their respective prices. “Looks like tonight is beef stew with a crust of sourdough.”

“God, that sounds like nirvana!” Miri, careful not to compromise her dress, sat on a bar stool.

“Here’s a key to the bath-house, feel free to use it any time. It’s separated by gender. This time of night, especially with the festivities, I doubt anyone’s making use of it.” Dazar pulled a shiny silver key from his bag of holding after crossing the threshold to the bar.

“Oh. Thanks…” Miri suddenly gulped nervously, “d-do I smell?”

“Well. Of course, you do!” Miri clutched her mouth in shock. Seeing her reaction, Dazar turned to face her, mug and rag in hand. “No. Sorry. Wrong choice of words. You smell female; sweet in that way only clean sweat brings, with a hint of lavender.”

“You bastard,” Miri grouched. “At least get me something to drink, dwarf.”

He rubbed his eye and smiled wryly, “yea. I deserve that. Anyhow, sent a message to Chef for a couple bowls of stew. Stout, beer, wine, mead? What’s your poison?”

“Oh god, I’d suck a dick for beef right about now,” Miri salivated. It was Dazar’s turn to look away, though it was obvious he had bitten his tongue. “Mead’s made from honey, right?”

“Yes. Ah, there’s a vintage of blueberry mead from 4876, good one, if I recall.” the dwarf turned around and stood on a stool to reach the correct barrel.

“What year is it? And month. I should probably know these things…” Miri shouted over the bardic concert, but though better of it, waiting to finish as Dazar returned with a mug of honey golden liquid. Taking a sip, Miri’s eyes widened; there was no **** taste. It tasted like liquid honey, flavored with the most vibrant blueberry she’d ever tasted. Hints of a hundred other sweet things danced on her tongue, and Miri gushed, “Oh! My! God! That’s – that’s beyond words good.”

She took another sip; colors dancing wonderfully in her eyes, sound fading to a pleasurable hum, taste buds and smell overloaded. Heat rushed through her body and Miri rubbed her muscular thighs together unconsciously. …. “Must be good. I had to snap my fingers twice!” Dazar laughed. “Yea. Traded information on the whereabouts of a certain vampire to a cleric for a casket of that mead. Worth every damn penny… Anyhow, year is 5126, and I gather month is February. Don’t know the precise day. Nobodies slipped that much yet.”

“We need to find that cleric!” Miri cried. “And make him give us more.”

“Easy, there! Don’t even know if he’s alive. Well, he probably is. Either way, you got more pressing concerns.” Miri pouted, slowly sipping her delicious drink. The dwarf continued, “After we eat, I’m going to head home. If you need anything, find Berus or Steven. Berus is my hired half-orc for this place, in addition to being a solid guy. Steven actually operates this place. Nothing goes on around here without him knowing about it. After we eat, I’m going to head home and find my Matilda.”

“How will I find you again?” Miri leaned forward, then sat back, trying vainly to act unconcerned.

The dwarf leaned forward, whispering, “If you stand on the wharf directly in front of the inn, look due East, past the inn down the road. Either twenty or twenty-two buildings down, on the left is a small alley. Go down that alley, and you’ll see a small green house on the right. Across from that is what looks like a rundown outhouse. It’s not. Knock five times to identify yourself, then walk in and head down the stairs. There you’ll find my doorway.”

Miri nodded slowly, and matching his volume, Miri repeated the directions. He smiled and pointed behind him. Tina came toward them, carrying two large steaming bowls on a platter. Miri drooled as the short woman placed the food in front of them. The stew had carrots, potato, celery, large chunks of beef, potato, smothered in a delicious beef broth. Miri almost didn’t notice the buttered hunk of sourdough as she reached for the wooden spoon. Only, a hand slapped hers away from the spoon. Wounded, Miri looked up to see Dazar wagging his finger in negation.

“Here’s another lesson for you. No matter how hungry or thirsty you are, always test food that wasn’t prepared in front of you. I sincerely doubt Chef Violet poisoned the stew, so consider this a learning experience,” the dwarf taught. Pulling out a vial, he dipped it into the stew, filling it up. He handed Miri another one. Glumly, she followed his lead. “This is a magical poison detecting vial. Try not to consume it, Aiano.”

“That does seem foolish.”

The dwarf shook the vial, and Miri watched as the chunky brown stew transformed into a clear liquid. “Good. Means it’s safe to eat. If it’s any other color, somebody put something toxic in it.” Miri did the same and smelled the vial. It still smelled like beef stew. She then emptied the vial into her mouth, unintentionally making the universal sign for a blowjob.

“It still tastes like beef stew!” Miri proclaimed, shocked. The dwarf grinned in response, dipping a hunk of bread in.