The Honor Circle Returns! (IC)

[Boog]

The (thing that looked like a) man in the ragged tweed coat resisted the urge to squeal like a small child as the keys to the building behind him dropped into his hands.
"I'll admit, I need the vacation and the patrons need somebody to keep them from making problems for important people. You come well recommended; odd, for someone who must work for community service to be so well recommended by those who sentenced him to it. I expect to return to find the place intact and orderly."
"Don't worry sir, no problem with that sir, I'll guard it with my debatable existence sir!" The man(-like thing) continued bowing and scraping until the owner of the establishment had left. Still bowed, he tilted his black fishing hat back and peered over his glasses to be sure the other man(-esque entity) was really gone.
He was.
The (thing that looked like a) man grinned broadly. It was a good grin, large but proportional to the exaggerated caricature of a face. Light still glinted off of pearly, tombstone-shaped teeth as he proceeded.
First thing he did was enter. The place was dry, comfortable (if a bit dusty); the bar was fully stocked. The medical facilities were doubly so. All that was left was to place two books on the counter; one said myths, and it would redeem his debt to society. The other said stories, and it was why he owed society something.
The Boogeyman gave a laugh, starting off as a quiet chitter, gathering force to a gatling-gun cackle before finally culminating into a full blown, no restraint laugh that hurt the throat to hear it.
"The Honor Circle," He laughed, in a voice he knew would be heard across forever by anyone it concerned, "Is once again officially open for business!"
Slowly, clutching his aching gut, his laughter faded. The Boogeyman picked up a broom and got to work on the dust. His job really never ended.

[Angel]

A few hours later, a very odd-looking figure in a brown cloak walked up to the building. The hem-line of a dark green dress was barely visible below the hem of the cloak, which reached about five inches above her bare feet. The figure was tallish, slim and hooded, carrying a brown drawstring bag and a long staff with a painted carving of a lotus flower at the end.

She stopped a few feet away from the building's entrance, glancing around at the scenery. She didn't like being this far from a forest, but there were a few trees around. The closest one was a budding magnolia. Perfect.

The girl removed her hood. Any onlookers would have gasped to see her vibrant light green skin, her pointed ears, and her long grassy hair. Her yellow-green eyes focused on the magnolia as she raised her staff till it was parallel to the ground. She muttered a few words under her breath, eyes glowing. Within seconds, the magnolia was in full bloom, white-pink flowers blossoming open seemingly of their own will.

The elf smiled. "Well, Sylvie," she said to herself in a soft, mezzo soprano voice, "looks like you haven't lost your touch." With that, she walked into the building.

[Boog]

Inside the building was the standard pub found in places like this everywhere, with just a bit more class and a more recent sweeping. A pool table and some ancient looking arcade machines lurked toward the back of the establishment, huddling in the shadow of a staircase that ended not too far from the bar. It was obviously well stocked with substances both alcoholic and otherwise.
It appeared that someone had left a pile of rags at the counter. Or at least, it appeared that way until they moved. The Boogeyman stretched and yawned, awakened by the chime of the bell attached to the door. He adjusted his glasses and blinked, yellow-green eyes eventually focusing on the girl before him. His face took on a look of concentration as he sorted out what happened next. It's worth noting that, contrary to the universal laws of comedy, the windows start up noise in no way played in the background while he woke up. However, it all came back to him soon enough.
"Welcome!" In a quick motion he was on the other side of the bar and striding toward Sylvie, "Welcome to your local honor circle! We're hosting the greatest fights in this, the next or the previous worlds, and everybody can compete. We don't have anybody to challenge yet but please, make yourself at home!" He gestured to a seat at the bar, grinning in his usual fashion (madly). "Please, do be comfortable. Besides," his eyes rested on her staff, then on the book that said Stories. His grin broadened further, "Just because no other patrons have arrived yet, Madam, don't think we don't have anything for you."

[Stygian]

The Boogeyman had barely finished his last sentence before the door opened again, admitting a somewhat tall figure into the coatroom, dressed in a black coat and carrying a briefcase. Practically sliding in on a fluid, perfectly silent stride, the man looked around behind round spectacles and under the tip of a fedora. When he entered the bar, he took the hat off, placing it on the counter. The case he set down by his polished, black leather shoes. They were sleek-topped, but with heavy and rough soles. It seemed curious that he could move so silently with that kind of shoes.
   When released, that of the man's pallid blond hair that wasn't put up in a long ponytail fell into neat bangs over his face, framing his hard but most well-sculpted features, only accentuated by the scars that ran over his lips and cheek. Deep, stony gray eyes regarded the two people before him with an uncanny sharpness, before they finally fixed on the Boogeyman. And then his look, which had been one of acute and detached focus, turned into one of acute and dour boorishness.
   The man's voice was deep, melodically accented and the slightest bit coarse as he spoke. It was the kind of voice that called attention, however silent. The kind of voice that stands out and is picked for documentaries and presentations because people find it pleasant to listen to.
   'Hell and guano. Not you again.'

[Boog]

The Boogeyman's grin took on an edge of smugness, slowly changing to something akin to a smirk. "Speak of the devil and you get one of his wannabes. Yes, me again. Or rather," he raised a finger and grinned, slowly turning around as his grin fluidly converted to a smirk, "I couldn't be me again, since the very nature of the me you know would HAVE to change, based on what happened to it. The average person's personality does something similar. So, to conclude, the very nature of the statement, 'Not you again,' is either inherently flawed or extremely clever. Hello to you too, Styg." He walked back behind the bar, grinning. Things were getting entertaining already.

[Stygian]

The man's eyebrows hopped upward once while he rolled his eyes and walked a bit nearer, pulling up a barstool. 'Inherently flawed or extremely clever? Consider that it's me, Boog,' he replied. 'And I'd actually say that's exactly the same kind of smartassery you always pull. Furthermore, unless it gets me a Jack on The Rocks faster, it is also insignificant.' He settled on top of the cushioned stool and shook his coat and took it off, laying it over the counter, revealing a short-sleeved shirt of a sort on the outside of a tight top that showed his hard build and long, muscular arms covered neatly in black wrappings. He tapped the counter with one black-gloved hand, then looked around.
   'Is this it?' the man introduced as 'Styg' asked after a thorough examination, before his eyes settled on the green-hued lady beside him. 'Not that I'm complaining about this apparition of clorophyll comeliness, but...' he commented coolly.

[Cogidubnus]

 Three men walked into a bar, two grouped on one side, and the third walking a little ways by himself.

The two were almost nothing alike. One, a mountainous man, could be heard walking from some distance away, attired in a full suit of pitch-black plate, the rough iron only broken by a golden salamander that decorated the front breastplate. Over his back was slung a spear, and a bitter black pipe was clutched in his teeth, the embers peeking over the bowl almost casting a glow on the man's rough, gunmetal-blued face. His teeth were startlingly white, and his eyes piercingly, icy blue. His face looked the sort of usually be decorated with a wide smile, but at the moment it was quite morose-looking. The other, a wolf by the looks of him, wore a suit of black and silver, a long coat coming down to his knees, and his head covered by a pair of sunglasses and a hat. A silver band decorated the fedora, from under which peeked silver hair, and at his hip was a long, curved blade, black all around except for the silver furniture that decorated it. The buttons on his coat were made of silver, and the same with the buttons at his wrist.

Both of them stood apart from their third companion, a red-coated Jackal by the look of him, using a long, wicked-black scythe as a walking stick. He seemed quite serene, despite the looks that the other two were giving him, and only stopped for a moment to brush the dirt from the road off his cream-colored pants and shirt. He smiled serenely as he walked, his hair jet-black, and fairly quickly all three of them reached the bar that rested amongst the myriad circles.

The Jackal entered first, at the insistence of the other two, and close behind him followed the wolf and the man. Taking just a moment to look around the place, the Jackal found himself a table to sit at, resting his large scythe on the floor and across himself, and giving the red-robed Angel a look the other two sat at a different table.

A bit of bluish smoke escaping from the black-armored man's lips, the blackguard turned an eye towards the strange-looking man in a tweed coat, and held his pipe in his hand for a moment to speak.
"Shit, I need a drink." the man said, letting one hand rest on the table in front of him. As he dragged his finger across it, he drew a black line, just a bit of smoke curling up from the charred wood.

[Angel]

Sylvie was suspcious when she first entered the bar. The construction style was a close match to that of an average Imperial elven-run pub: the same purpose as other pubs, but cleaner and infinitely classier. When she saw the dusty arcade games off to the side and the pile of rags behind the bar, she relaxed a little. Until the rags moved.

She jumped a little, but thankfully, it was just a person - at least, it looked like a person. From what she could tell in the brief time he spoke to her, she was going to like it here. His first words to her hadn't been We don't take your kind, What the hell?!, or her least favorite, Oh dear God it's green! No, he had welcomed her in and never said a word about her pigmentation.

When the human walked in, Sylvie scanned him once with her eyes. By human standards he was attractive, even if he was a little scary-looking. And he and the owner of this place apparently knew each other. Based on how they talked to each other, they were either old friends or respectful enemies. And once again, the newcomer didn't fixate on Sylvie. This was turning out better than she thought already.

The most unusual moment by far was when the newcomer - "Styg," the owner had called him - complimented her. Her cheeks flushed a slightly deeper shade of green; for her, this was blushing. She'd been hit on in jest many times before, by drunken and/or moronic people, but this was the first time anyone had ever sounded honest about such a comment. Her smart-ass remarks wouldn't work for this. For the first time in her life, she was genuinely flustered.

The arrival of three new people saved her. A gigantic, black-armored human, a jackal with a scythe, and a grey-haired, mysterious-looking wolf entered the bar. The elf relaxed visibly as she turned back to Styg. "I guess that answers your question." She took a seat about two spaces away from where the blond was sitting, pulled over the storybook and smiled shyly. "I'm Sylvie, by the way."

[Boog]

Boog had planned on quipping back with a 'flawed it is then,' but more patrons arrived. Finally, things were picking up. And here it was only his first day. This kept up and he'd be home free in no time. "No, but giving me some money for a Jack on the Rocks might speed up the process of getting you a Jack on the Rocks. And you!" Already he was over by the man in black armor, grinning like a loon, "You seem to be under a handful of misapprehensions. One, the name ain't shit. Two, the resident barkeep isn't too big on the whole 'consuming substances,' experience, so clarification as to WHAT you need to drink would probably minimize the chances of errors on that field. And three, we thank people for not vandalizing the establishment's property," His voice dropped an octave, from almost cartoonishly exaggerated city accent to something low and reverberating, "And, since we are so very grateful to you for not vandalizing our property, you must not have done so." The scorchmark on the table was gone. Had it ever been there?
"Also, Sylvie..." The Boogeyman turned to smile at the young woman as she pulled the book closer, "While any patron is free to read the books I've left on the counter, "I must say that that book, in particular, should probably only be read while one is standing in the circle outside. For safety reasons, you understand."

[nikename2]

"You sure this is gonna work?", Rip asked his long time friend, Cortez as he suited up in his robes and fashioned on his gauntlets and other gear. Cortez then replied casually, "Yeah teleportation spells aren't usually that big of a deal, the worst that can happen is that some sort of temporal breach will send you off to god knows where."

Rip stared blankly at Cortez for a few seconds, then blinked. "How often does that happen?", he asked. Cortez laughed then replied as his hands started to glow blue, his eyes also lighting up, "Heh usually one in a million or something, it like never happens. Alright it's ready."

"Go for it.", Rip nodded as he prepared himself. He really didn't know what to expect upon arrival, but he couldn't afford to stay in Il'vale any longer. With a solemn nod Cortez unleashed rings of blue energy around Rip, moments later he was gone, sent across time and space. Right at the apex of the spell though Cortez felt a disturbance, he could hear faint words "Honor....Circle......open......business...".

"Nooo!", Cortez yelled as he was blown back from the disturbance. "Ahh geez....that's probably not good..."

Moments later, Rip came to lying on the ground outside of an ominous building, his head aching a little bit. He looked up at the sky, it looked so vastly different from what he was used too. Immediately as he got up he got the feeling that something was wrong with this place, and that this wasn't his original destination. It didn't bother him much though, what mattered was that he was no longer in Il'vale, and the farther away he was from there the better. Shrugging himself off he strolled up to the door of the establishment and made his way in, nodding at the other patrons and making his way over toward the bar, sitting down near the odd looking dryadish figure.

[Cogidubnus]

 The man in black armor gave the Boogeyman a look, his soot-blackened face somewhat twisted in distaste. He puffed on his pipe again, listening to the strange little caretaker make each point in turn, and despite himself the blackguard began to grin, startlingly white teeth showing between his ash-blued lips. He took another puff of his dark pipe, and gave a short laugh. The caretaker turned to make a comment to the flower-girl, and without preamble the man leaned forward and slapped him on the back, a large grin coloring his features.
"Hah! You, I think I can like." he said, oblivious to the rolling eyes of the wolf across from him. "You, you don't strike me as shit either. I knew a shit once. Pronounced it 'Sha-theed', 'e did, but we all knew what his mother was really thinkin'." the man said loudly, still grinning as he leaned back in his chair, and took another puff from his blackened pipe.

"I'll take a shot of Amoco." he said, his manner garrulous, and he gave a leer at the wolf across the table from him. "And he'll be having whiskey, the lightweight."

[Stygian]

The human muttered something and went through his pockets as the other three men walked in through the door. He took a long, hard look at them all, longest of all at the man in black armor and his spear, before he retracted his hands, holding some items. In one of his hands was what looked like a solid rectangular slip of metal with rounded edges and a single short strip of black seamlessly pushed into one end. In his other was a crumpled pair of fat bills and some heavy, strange-looking coins.
   'You know I'm not fond of spending too much money in this sort of place, Boog. Disrupting economic and physical balances like that is not something that appeals to me,' the man said. 'I suppose you won't take this,' he continued, raising the slip of metal, 'so I'll put down what little cash I have on me.' He slapped one of the coins onto the counter and then waited patiently until he got his drink. Taking the lowball glass and having a long sip, he studied the newly arrived a while with solemn focus, before he made a slight snort and put the emptied glass down. He then turned for a view of the elf, or whatever he was, a bit away. And he kept his gaze on her for at least half a minute before he even spoke.
   'So. Forgive me for being frank, but... A mammal-plant hybrid? The closest to that I've ever seen before, in China, were not nearly such pretty things,' he said, eyes steady on her.

[Angel]

Sylvie had been watching the scorched table with some nervousness until the mark disappeared. How had that happened? ... Had it even happened? She ignored it for the time being, obediently releasing the book when the owner told her it was best not to read it yet. How could a book be a danger...?

These thoughts went out of her mind when yet another patron entered the bar and sat next to her. He was a scorpion being of some kind, with a decidedly cool outfit and... large, feathery wings? This was getting more interesting by the minute. She nodded a greeting to him before turning to the noise over at the end of the bar. The black-haired armored fellow from before was chatting to the owner, loudly. Sylvie narrowed her eyes at him. He wasn't offending her, he was just a bit obnoxious. No. More than a bit. A lot. But that wasn't reason enough to judge him just yet.

She felt eyes on her, and turned her head back to the blond human. She was used to being stared at, but it wasn't out of shock or rudeness. It was curiosity, plain and simple. This was new to her. Then the human figured out her species almost right away - not too uncommon, but he was the first to be so polite about asking.

She blushed a little at his final comment before responding. "I wasn't aware there were different species of my kind. And everyone I know who has this...condition... looks the same. We're not quite hybrids; we're just elves infused with druidaic magic. Lord only knows how it started..." she trailed off, growing a little pensive before speaking up again. "How did you meet up with the creatures you mentioned?"

[Boog]

As soon as the coin hit the table, the Boogeyman reached across the bar and handed Stygian his drink. It would probably take the casual observer a moment to wonder how he managed to do this while being across the room. It was an Argument he'd used on the bar before the first patrons had arrived: If they're paying for the drink, it can only be assumed that they have the drink. If A then B.
He lurched under the impact of the black-armored man's hand though, wincing and responding with a grin of his own, "Sha-theed, eh? That's one weird as hell form of denial there, m'friend. Amoco and Whiskey, right. Pay what you think the drink is worth in coin. Just keep in mind," He downgraded the grin to a smirk, "I'll know if you're paying LESS than you think it's worth." With that, he strode across the room to fetch the other two drinks from behind the bar and to greet the latest arrival.
"Hello..." he looked at the individual before him contemplatively. Feathery wings, scorpion tail, robes... "Sir. Hello sir." He quickly continued onward before the other creature before him could point out if he'd gotten that wrong, "Welcome to the Honor Circle, an establishment of class, culture and prestige. While most establishments discourage certain aspects of class, culture, and prestige we encourage all forms, up to and including picking fights with the other patrons. So welcome, good sir, and make yourself at home. If you have any questions, ask the goofy-looking fellow in the awful jacket," He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at his reflection in the mirror behind the bar.

[nikename2]

"Heh, sounds like my kind of place....a shot of whiskey sounds good.", Rip smirked as he lifted up the brow of his hat, meeting eyes with the....... very strange barkeep. Yeah, of all the expectations he had today, this was probably the last on the list.  Even so, Rip had planned to hit the nearest bar in Tel'enduur if he actually made it there upon completion of the awry teleportation. So overall his objective had been completed, just not in familiar manner; that could undoubtibly present a problem if he didn't play his cards right.

For one thing, he felt he was drawing too much attention to himself what with the large wings coming out of his back. That's probably why he reflexively sat next to the green elf when he walked in since he figured that she'd draw more attention then he would by comparison, her vibrant skin tone was really eye catching. He relaxed himself a little bit and took off his hat, holding it on the counter infront of him.

"So.....Honor Circle is it? Not bad, definately better kept then some other circles I've had my hand in, although it looks like you guys opened a few minutes ago, heh. By the way....this place wouldn't happen to have rooms avaliable for the night or know a place that does would it?" 

[Cogidubnus]

Giles seemed thoughtful for a moment. "Is that so?" he said, a cloud of smoke passing up over his face. "Some drinks are worth more than others. 'Fer example, the right sort a' Aqua Vitae, I'd kill for." The blackguard grinned, clenching his pipe in his teeth. "But if it's coin yer wantin', though..."

The blackguard gave the wolf a significant look, coughing somewhat, and with a glare of distaste the wolf produced two silver coins and placed them on the table. The Jackal, still sitting by himself, coughed lightly, and both the wolf and the blackguard turned their heads to glare at him. The Jackal, serene as ever, did not react, and with yet another glare of distaste the wolf reached into his jacket and produced a third silver coin, setting it down with the other two.
"The price of two –good- drinks." The wolf said, leaning on the table and putting his chin in his hand.

The wolf had his back to the door, but the other two were in a position to look at the newcomers – the Jackal especially seemed to brighten at the presence of the scorpion Angel, and mumbled something under his breath as he stepped inside. Both the Jackal and the blackguard were staring at the green elf, and the black-armored man in particular seemed a little intrigued by it.
"Eh...so...you're a'...flower-person, are you?" he said slowly, narrowing his eyes.
Intrigued was perhaps the wrong word – the Blackguard frowned somewhat, and continued to smoke from that bitterly black pipe.

[Boog]

How did I not notice the Jackal before? "Beds are upstairs, price is the same as the drinks," Boog replied to Rip cheerfully, getting out three glasses and pouring the whisky and amoco. Pocketing whatever currency Rip offered and leaving the drink, he was soon handing out the bevrages to the blackguard and the swordsman. They were worth the three silver coins. "Thanks much for your custom, gents. Enjoy your drinks." Pockets now cheerfully jingling in only the first hour or so of business, he took a look around. Ah, happy customers. Yes, this job was his community service, but anything worth doing was worth doing properly. Hence, he couldn't simply ignore the jackal with the scythe.
"And you sir? Anything you wanted, or are you here solely for the establishment's other attractions?" How did I not notice this man before? It was acually slightly worrying; he prided himself on being able to keep track of all variables, but the scythe-carrier had managed to evade his notice. It wasn't like he was inconspicuous...

[Cogidubnus]

The Jackal looked up at the keeper of the circle quietly, and with a pleasant air. He shook his head in a negative, his eyes smiling.
"No, no. I'm just here for the other attractions. Nothing for me, thanks." He said, shifting in his seat somewhat. "Although you are quite kind to ask."

The other two seemed quite put-off by the Jackal's presence, and after thanking the barkeep shortly they both took a drink, the blackguard nearly quaffing his in one gulp while the wolf simply sipped on his amber-hued liquid. A small drop fell from the darkly-armored man's glass, and an armored glove wiped it away quickly, but not quite fast enough to keep it from taking the varnish off that particular spot. He didn't seem to notice, instead merely sighing and relaxing in his chair.

[Sunblink]

Heavy black boots clapped against the flattened stone layering the earth, pounding like slow, rhythmic thunderclaps uncharacteristic of the diminutive frame they accentuated. Stride was confident, strong despite the figure's unimpressive height, complimentary of the muscular posture to her body and how effortlessly she seemed to scale the chitinous rocks plating in jagged peaks out of the fragile, grassy ground. Chocolaty irises were irreversibly squared forward, occasionally sliding back and forth, though not in an uneasy manner—simply one which was concentrated, searching without pause for the destination desired. For a moment the figure stopped, what looked like a cape flapping around her curvaceous waist.

Using the edge of her black-painted thumb, the figure lifting the brim of her fedora upright to reveal a distinctly canine face framed with slightly aerodynamic, dusty-blonde bangs. Atramentous streaks of sable cut and slashed in crescents and stripes along the curves and angles of her face, journeying in various shapes, patterns, and curly trails up and down her yellow-saffron-hued body. Saffron and sable, two colors of the spectrum, united in one frame garbed in drab hues of black. The cold conditions demanded that she came dressed protected from the temperature. Narrowing her eyes, the jackal watched closely, eyeing the way the air wavered and twisted subtly around the outlines of the rocks and brittle branches of grass. That was where it ended. She was there.

She looked back, and was unsurprised by what she saw. A wasteland environment, the only dab of life coloring its dried and arid features being a grassy oasis housing a comfortable-looking building. Despite how improbable its presence was, how absolutely and outrageously different it was from the mountainous terrain stretching behind the jackal, she felt oddly satisfied. A toothy rictus of a grin spread across her lips as she strode past the threshold of what separated the real from the unreal, rocks transforming into sand and the frigid coldness biting at her skin sweeping around into scathingly hot air.

Once at the door, the jackal cracked her knuckles outward, fingers laced together, and shrugged her jacket loose, slipping it around the unusual cape latched to her shoulders. Only when it flexed and stretched outward, displaying its individually membranous bodies did it become apparent that the cape wasn't a cape: it was a pair of leathery wings, and resting between them was a large and melanoid spiked club. Bereft of the jacket, the jackal pushed open the doors and entered, that proud and boisterous grin still livening her expression.

Feet still thumping their tattoo against the floor, Keaton walked across the floor, guiding herself past the impressive menagerie of characters collected within the establishment to the nearest bar, where she sat herself on a stool and steepled her fingers beneath her chin.

~Keaton the Black Jackal

[Stygian]

The blond man put on a sharp-toothed smirk with just the slightest sardonic touch brought on by the idea of better knowing behind it. Magic. Should have figured. Well, at least I shouldn't have to worry about technical superiority then, he thought to himself.
   'I didn't so much encounter them as watch them in tanks. Spliced animal hybrids are one thing, but at least those both belong to the same bloody kingdom, phylum and class of creature. Though I am sure that magic can bridge those gaps that science can't, the wonderful phenomenon...' he said, with a hint of resentment on the word magic. 'Still, I have to admire anything that can create such a neat and beautiful result of such... difficult stock.'

[nikename2]

Rip nearly broke his shot glass as the saffron jackel entered through the doorway, not because of shock or anything but because he wasn't really paying attention to what he was doing, his eyes just fixated on her as she made her entrance. Her mere presense as she sat down.....for some reason.....felt so much more intense then the others, and to just sit so complacently with that grin across her face... Just looking at her, Rip felt a little bit intimidated; that grin....she probably knew it too.

Then, purely out of impulse, Rip raised his glass moments after she sat down, then announced, "Her drink's on me barkeep, heh."
He lowered his glass, and grinned slightly, as if trying to playfully counter hers, he knew she was probably out of his league. She probably wasn't here to waste herself away either.

.....What do you really want.....   
 

[Angel]

Sylvie couldn't help but notice the tension about the three people who'd arrived together. Everyone else seemed perturbed by the jackal, but she was most curious about the wolf, because out of the three, he seemed the most detached from all that was going on here.

The blackguard's reaction to Sylvie was more or less what she expected, but she ignored it as she listened to Styg's response to her question. He seemed a little touchy on the subject of magic. She couldn't quite place why, but she nodded at him before watching yet another new arrival. The girl gave a small smile to the jackal woman, despite her nervousness about the manner of this new person. How could she lift such a heavy-looking weapon...?

"Thank goodness. I was afraid I'd be the only girl here," she greeted the canine newcomer.

[Stygian]

Ordering up another drink, the blond man studied the new entree with a slight smirk, and tapped the counter to signal he wanted another drink. Already some interesting, if not too menacing-looking, people were starting to drop in. He could sense power and a sort of... presence already forming. But the question was still whether if anyone of them would be a good fight. He was well aware that he had a quite specialized manner of doing battle, one that often cut the fun short. And seeing as he was here purely out of self-interest he thought he should work around that a bit.

[Boog]

Boog smiled at the scythe carrier and nodded. A little politeness could be a rare thing in these times and in this company. Of course, another jackal arrived soon after. His work as host never done, he was already on his way over before the door finished swinging shut.
"Welcome to the Honor Circle, miss," he grinned cheerfully, setting out Stygian's drink, "You strike me as someone who'd be familiar with our rules on your first arrival, but a heads up just in case. Feel free to challenge any other patron to a duel in the circle outside; challenger chooses the who and when, possibly the why, challenged chooses the where and how. All services may be payed for in coin; whose can depend on aforementioned fight-picking. Or, if you're interested in our, aheh, 'special promotions' going on..." again, a glance at the book marked 'stories', "Feel free to request more information."

[Sunblink]

It was impossible for the reactions of the patrons to go unnoticed from Keaton's perspective. Instantly picking up the collective emotions radiating from the menagerie of otherdimensional outsiders and twisted travelers' assorted reactions, Keaton folded her arms contentedly behind her head and basked in the torrential flow with peacefully closed eyes and an almost juxtaposing, vicious grin. Seemed she had made an impact on one or two of the patrons, and that was fine with her. More than fine, in fact. Startling her from this twisted emotional repast was Rip's remark about buying her a glass, something which garnered her attention rather quickly.

Ears quirked individually, curiously. Keaton stared at Rip for a good, long time, absorbing his appearance and demeanor. Didn't seem to have any unscrupulous intentions... besides, he was buying her a likely harmless drink from a neutral establishment, where he wouldn't have the opportunity to poison it. Paranoid thinking, yes, but Keaton had good reason to, especially when she was wanted in numerous parts of Furrae. But this wasn't Furrae, and, despite the presence of the other jackal nearby, she doubted anyone here knew of her reputation.

"Ah, thanks," Keaton said, flashing Rip a toothy grin. Ivory canines gleamed between her gums. "Nice way to treat a newcomer."

Sylvie was the next one to greet her. Keaton was more taken aback by the emerald-skinned woman's appearance than the others', mostly because she had heard stories of humans being less colorful in flesh tones back in Furrae. At least she was able to tell that the others were slightly humanoid, particularly that blond man who Boog had delivered a drink to. Ah well, she was being friendly. And Keaton was probably just as strange-looking to Sylvie as Sylvie was to Keaton. Before she could respond to Sylvie's pleasantly-stated comment, Boog presented the rules and regulations of the circle, which Keaton listened to attentively. She hummed quietly, repeating the terms over in her head before she grinned.

A fighting circle. Excellent.

~Keaton the Black Jackal

[Cogidubnus]

The blackguard made a face when Sylvie didn't respond, and harrumphed loudly. He shook his head, and simply began to drink and smoke. The reeking, alcohol and almost gasoline smell of the Amoco and the strangely sweet smell of the man's tobacco was almost enough to be nauseating. The wolf made a face at the man, shaking his head, and pushed away from the table. Nose crinkled, the wolf sipped his own whiskey, and looked at the others quietly. He was still watching silently when another newcomer entered, a black-backed Jackal carrying an enormous club on her back, framed by two pairs of leathery wings.

The other Jackal in the room smiled, perhaps in reaction to a person of his own species, and nodded at the new Jackal carefully. As he moved, light ran down and flashed off the scythe placed across his body.

The blackguard himself wasn't so busy drinking and smoking silently to not notice the Jackal either. He went to take another pull off his pipe, and made a face as he tried to take a pull, muttering a curse. He flipped it over and tapped the bowl against the table, dumping out the ashes, and deftly produced another fingerfull of tobacco from a leather pouch at his waist. He filled the bowl quickly, preparing the pipe, and without pausing flicked his thumb. A fire sprouted from the blackguard's finger, and careful not to let his hand sit still he touched the top of the bowl with the flame, blue smoke soon swirling up from the now-lit pipe.

[Angel]

Sylvie's smile didn't waver when Keaton showed slight distress at the elf's appearance. When the jackal-woman relaxed, she nodded and swiveled back to her former sitting position. Keaton's reaction had been much more polite than what she was used to back home, so she couldn't be all that bad.

She glanced up when the blackguard had a slight hissy fit over Sylvie ignoring him. She realized that she was being a little too rude to him, and was about to apologize when she saw a flicker of flame bloom up from the man's finger. Almost immediately, her demeanor changed. Her eyes widened, her mouth became a thin line and her hands folded in her lap as she turned away.

"Um... sorry I ignored you earlier," she managed after a moment or two had passed, glancing sidelong at the blackguard and speaking quietly. "We prefer the term 'Greens,' but yeah, my people are part plant."

[Stygian]

The blond man grinned, musing to himself over his lowball glass. I think I'll watch a fight or two, and let them come to me. After all, it is the challenged who gets to choose the battlefield. And I could always use more drinks, he thought to himself. Of course, that means I'll have to gently provoke them into picking a fight with me, and not scare them off too quickly...
   'Firewood that screams. A delightful idea in itself,' the man uttered and took a sip, chuckling. Unusually prominent fangs for a human hinted just past his lips, and for a second his eyes took on a dark quality that was easy to miss, but hard to interpret wrong when spotted.

[Angel]

If not for her remaining paralysis from the fire and the Scorpion sitting between them, Sylvie might have jumped up and strangled the blond human right then and there. As it was her hands curled into fists in her lap, and her eyes went from frozen in terror to blazing in a moment of fury as she turned her head slowly to the man. She could usually catch someone before they made a remark like that, but to think that that man, of all people, could say such a coldhearted thing after being so nice to her...

A second later, understanding bloomed in her eyes. She smirked, her anger popping like a bubble as she laughed softly.

"You cunning, sadistic bastard," she said, half-respectfully and half-triumphantly. "I almost fell for it." She faced the blond with a smirk. "Styg, was it? Well, don't think I'll be roped into a fight so easily. I'll kick your ass when both of us are ready, not just you." She smiled again as she turned to face the owner. She had to admit, Styg was pretty smart. If she'd allowed herself to get angry, she'd have been sloppy and more focused on what she was going to do to him than the techniques he'd use on her.

She pulled her drawstring bag off her shoulder and pulled out a few gold coins. "Water, please. Purest you can get."

[nikename2]

Rip laughed a little to himself when Styg made his comment about firewood. He wasn't really intent on offending the 'Green', but the mental image he got when firewood was mentioned was too much. That aside, Rip's focus was still on the she-jackel. He glanced at her again, and felt the same feeling he had a few seconds earlier, the effect felt so unnatural.....almost orchestrated. This wasn't the first time he met someone who looked unimposing yet had a presence akin to a giant's; within a few seconds, it became obvious to Rip of what her true intentions were. It was playing out to the same damn tune, so overtly bloated with ego that they feel it neccessary to act gentlemen-like with their targets, before viciously murdering them later when they're at their weakest. Although Rip survived his first encounter with one similiar to this, it was entirely on a fluke; he can still hear the assassin's dying words, "You're living on borrowed time, your fate is sealed Rip Johnson!! No matter where you run or where you hide, my people will find you and the pain of your death shall be legendaaAAUGHgh!!!". 

I killed him at that point, unable to bear his foul voice any longer. If this one's arrival is the culmination of his last words, then so be it. I'll do what I must.

Rip sighed to himself, when the she-jackel finished the drink he bought her, he got up and walked over. He then placed his left hand on her shoulder, Lefty seemed to resonate a little bit as he did that, as if it was reacting to something. Still smiling, Rip announced calmly to her before she could get a word in edge wise, "Alright.... I know you must be enjoying every second of this, but if I'm going to dine in Hell later tonight we're gonna have to wrap this up right here, right now. I won't let you get any sick pleasure out of killing me in my sleep you heartless wench, if you want this one you're going to have to earn it."

He then immediately took his hand off her shoulder and backed away a few feet, readying himself as an insane grin spread across his face, his flash gauntlets starting to radiate a dim white luminescance. Although the thought that she wasn't sent for him never crossed his mind, even if she wasn't, there was no turning back now.