Wee Mad Arthur (
wee_mad_arthur) wrote in
milliways_bar2015-08-27 11:34 am
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There is a sizable mug of beer sitting on the Bar unattended.
Well, unless you count the splashing coming from inside the mug.
Which you probably should.
Well, unless you count the splashing coming from inside the mug.
Which you probably should.

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"I assume there'd be screaming if drowning were an actual concern, correct?"
A pause.
"Or you'd just knock the mug over, so there's that."
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So, yeah, drowning probably isn't all that much of a concern.
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Or so she's heard.
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This makes more sense to someone who has been immersing himself in beer for longer than Ysalwan. Really.
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She would sniff haughtily, but that's just overkill.
"Though I have seen a lot of people all elbows and knees, so -- "
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"Ach, well, I'll give ye that much," he says grudgingly. "Better than some, anyways."
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She appreciates his canny judgment.
"There's something to be said for not having to worry about hitting your head on stalactites. Or doorjambs."
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It's -- a very solid-sounding name. Kind of like Shale.
"I don't think I've met them. Huh."
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Not during the summer, anyway.
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Hmm.
"But trolls are born and not made, I take it? I mean -- golems are magical, at least they start that way. They're people, too, but it gets -- um. Messy."
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Ysalwen has a very low opinion of people in this regard.
Experience is a great teacher for that.
"That's why all the mucky jobs, hmm?"
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There is a large black cat with very purple eyes looking down at the mug's interior.
He opens his mouth and pokes at a long tooth with his rough feline tongue.
Is he smiling? No, he couldn't possibly be smiling.
Nor does he have much of a taste for ale.
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The surface erupts in foam and gnome a moment later.
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Most of the foam hits Alanna, who had leaned in to yank Faithful back from whatever was happening in the mug.
She splutters and turns a baleful look on her cat. "Are you here to help me or curse me?" she mutters, before glancing back at the small being. She wipes at the foam with a formerly spotless sleeve. "I..."
Goddess. He's... blue. And has hair as red as her own.
"He's a very rude cat," she says, looking bemused.
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"Go ahead. I won't stop you."
Faithful turns his head to eye Alanna. One by one, the claws on the paw he's cleaning pop out.
"Oh, stop it." She smiles at the man again, moving her hand back to its usual resting place on the hilt of her sword. "Faithful apologizes. As for what he's doing in a... in a tavern... he's my constant companion. Can't get rid of him."
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Which go ever so much further for someone of his size than for the humans and dwarves they were originally scaled to suit.
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She furrows her brow and climbs up on a bar stool, moving her sword to the side as she does.
(Sitting with a sword strapped to your hips is not a graceful looking process.)
"I'm Alan of Trebond. And I don't think Faithful -- that's him -- wants to steal your beer, sir. Though I have to ask... do you intend to drink it or just swim in it?"
She doesn't understand the appeal.
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He's pretty sure it's not Klatch, but his knowledge of geography outside the Sto Plains is a little fuzzy at best.
"The name's Wee Mad Arthur. Of the Ankh-Morpork City Watch," says Wee Mad Arthur. "And I'm drinkin' it, it's just a slower go than yez bigjobs could manage. Might as well enjoy meself instead of spillin' it eight weighs from Octeday.'
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It is. Alanna is fascinated by the various religions she hears about here.
"I wouldn't imagine they'd have much in common, cats and crocodiles. Though I suppose mountains and mares don't either, and that's another name for my patroness, the Mother of Mountains and Mares." She grins again. "Wee Mad Arthur? That is an excellent battle name. I've been called two of those names myself."
Definitely not 'Arthur,' though.
"Well, plan on another on my tab, if it'll make amends for how we met. I don't know many city watchmen, as it happens. I'm glad to rectify that."
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He grins and sketches an awkward, soggy sort of salute with his free hand. "Can't say I've heard of this Trebond of yez, either, let alone met anyone from the place," he says. "Reckon that makes us even, or close to it."
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"We have more temples in Corus than houses, I think." An exaggeration, of course, but you couldn't have convinced ten-year-old Alanna of it the first day she rode through the Temple District. "Is Ankh-Morpork your capital? Corus is Tortall's. That's my realm. Trebond is my family's fief, so I'm certainly not surprised you've never met anyone from there. If you had that would mean you'd met my twin brother. He doesn't know about Milliways. If he did, I'm sure I would've had an irate letter about my secret keeping long before now."
Unless Thom decided to sulk first.
Anyway.
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