10000netherworlds | So a belf and a draenei walk into a bar...

So a belf and a draenei walk into a bar...

Some things were purest tradition.

Maridian did not exemplify most of these things. Sin'dorei rather than kel'dorei. Wielding the powers of light he'd initially attained by kicking in the back door and pillaging them from the heavens. A warrior who found clarity in madness and achievement in absurd audacity. No one could call him normal, traditional, or even sensible.

But even a lunatic, a nutcase, a Mar could find comfort in one ancient and traditional ritual, a legacy shared across race and class, between Alliance and Horde and likely back as far as civilized species of any sort had roamed Azeroth or any world in the Nether:

After a hard day's adventuring, with a sweat worked up and the blood of countless foes wiped off arms and armor, nothing punctuated a warrior's achievements like a robustly alcoholic beverage.

So into the tavern came the paladin, already inhaling to appreciate the scent of alcohol in the air -- if not the sweat and stink of some of the other inhabitants.

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Valamia was good at a few things. One of them being always being a smartass when it was required. Another was being good with swords. A talent that wasn't always obvious was the ability and reality that she could drink her organs into near oblivion frequently and still be able to chop the heads off demons. Never let it be said that she doesn't strive to be capable of beating down people when she needs to.

However at the moment she's already at the bar with a mug in her hand and some drink that didn't bother to remember the name of. It was relatively strong, smelled worse then it tasted and that was about all she needed. All while staring at everyone who comes into the tavern. If there was a time to have shame or not mentally judge everyone who comes in the time was not now.

Don't mind her obvious staring. ...At least Maridian isn't a Tauren. That would get a much more weird look.

Mar being Mar, he cheerfully substituted any possibly version of reality for his own imagining. "I don't mind the staring, but if you keep it up I'm going to return fire in kind," he said to the woman as he sauntered on up to the bar. Next to her, in fact -- no sense wasting an appreciative audience, especially one that he didn't need to stare at to appreciate the looks thereof. "Actually, I may just trade for what you already gave me."

Well then. Color her surprised. She's almost taken aback one part in surprise another in some level of indignation. She clears her throat and she is certainly far too sober for this, hence her taking another long drink. Seriously, her organs would probably thank her if she took it easy. "Is bold and shameless something you always go for or it is just me?" It better not be just her. She might have to hit him. "Although I do advise you to choose your words carefully." Is she joking? Is she being playful or serious? The world may never know.

"Dull, flat, and colorless is no way to go through life," the paladin rejoined as he cocked an elbow to lean on the bar. His gaze drifted away from her a moment as he lifted his hand in signal to the barkeep, though his attention never wavered. "Especially when you have beauty to inspire you!"

Mar always chose his words carefully -- just, his definition of 'care' was so far removed from normal spheres it really resembled nothing like it.

...Did...did he honestly just...Light help her was he as shameless as a teenage boy? She clears her throat if only to keep herself from being too sarcastic right off the bat. She has a 'decent' drink and since he hasn't done anything actually offensive, she probably shouldn't tell him to leave. "I wouldn't consider having a tad bit of shame or moderate self-preservation a dull, flat and colorless lifestyle. As you so politely put it."

Yep. She's going to need a very long sip of her drink right now. "Or decency. Decency isn't bad." Says the woman who rarely is decent in her own home.

"If decency means not noticing a pretty girl is pretty, it's overrated beyond all understanding." The mug sliding down the bar hit his plate gauntlet with a heavy slap, and he scooped it up to take a pull without ever looking at it. "And self-preservation is a marvelous instinct that does a magnificent job of keeping anything from getting done."

The corner of her mouth turns up to a sly, albeit smug, grin. Oh what has he done. "Perhaps. I can't say pointing out the obvious has done much for many people either." Because yes, she does have a fair amount of confidence in her body. One doesn't smash the face in on demons for ages and simply not have some level of almost arrogant confidence. "Although I see many people are quite fond of doing it. Now why is it?" That question is so painfully rhetorical.

Yeah, Mar was pretty familiar with the idea of smash demons = confidence. They must have the same self-esteem program.

"Because just because you know it's obvious doesn't mean others manage to notice it. People possess a remarkable capacity to miss the most blatant things." He lifted his mug slightly to her, indicating that she, of course, was quite blatant indeed. "So I'm not telling you what you already know. I'm telling you that I know it too."

"Thank you." The world might be ending when she can thank someone whose isn't a Draenei for pointing out what should be obvious. That or maybe she had quite a bit to drink already. Either way, her tail flicks a few times, almost in a playful manner. Given that it's Vala there's also a good chance that it's a sign of her plotting something. "I however find that knowing is not quite the same thing for you as it is to me. I know because I have had many years to know me. Which means you either have a fine eye or you aren't particularly picky."

One day she's going to play nice. One day.

"Or it's so obvious that even a momentary look makes it clear," Mar said, smiling over the rim of his mug at her as he took a sip to break his statement in two. "Couldn't that be it?"

She raises one brow at him. If this is honesty hour she is in a decent amount of doubt in it. Well him. "I don't know. If it was that obvious to people, wouldn't I be somewhere a little nicer then here?" Like somewhere cozy. Or decent. Or...slightly more clean.

The blood elf tipped his head back and laughed, delighted at having spotted a trap a mile away. "No one tells you where you would or should or ought to be but you. That's both the courtesy you deserve and my sincere belief that anyone who tried would be a fool who quickly regretted it."

Damn. He was smarter then she gave him credit for. "Telling and suggesting are two very different things." She chuckles and taps a finger against the counter. "You aren't wrong though. People who have told me what to do have found that things end poorly for them." Those hooves were made for more then walking.

"People suggest what you should do," Mar said, sweeping his hand in an arc as if completing a circuit, "and you suggest where they can stick it, if the suggestion is inappropriate or offensive. Fair is fair, right?"

"It isn't so much a suggestion as it is an action." More frequently it's a punch. Not to say there weren't a few people around who had a mark left from her hoof. All they needed to do was take their shirt off. "People here are capable of almost astounding levels of offensive. It's as though some of them have never seen a Draenei!"

"I understand that sort of suggestion pretty well. I've had to do some of it myself in the past." Setting his drink down, Mar punched a hand into his other palm -- it made for quite a loud noise, given his armor. "Some people only take suggestions when they're administered with sharp edges and slaying magics."

She raises a brow at him for a moment. Her tail flicks more at the noise as opposed to the action. She has to eye him to figure out why they might do that considering he looked well...no less weird than anything else on Azeroth. "Which, as satisfying as it can be, it does get tiring over time. There is only so many times that striking someone stays entertaining."

"That's true," Mar mused. "But sadly sometimes these suggestions need to be made no matter how much fun they aren't to make. Which is why I'm here looking for fun that doesn't take that form!"

And that brought everything so nicely full-circle, he decided to celebrate by slamming back the rest of his drink.

She can respect the fact that he downs drinks about as fast as she does when wanted. She clears her throat. "So far this place hasn't had much to offer in the ways of fun. That's including after so many drinks." Vala finishes her drink, one of the many she's had so far.

"But I can't complain. It's still better than getting dragged into another fight." Or argument. Or whatever trouble she gets dragged into.

Mar nodded agreement, looking up at her. "Well then, let's fix that. If we're both looking for fun, we ought to manage something between the two of us."

Believe it or not, that wasn't a flirtation -- it lacked the knowing tone of voice that made Mar's knowledge of what he was saying perfectly clear.

"And what would you have in mind?" Her tone certainly seems to have a suggestive ring to it. Maybe she's laying a trap for him. Maybe she isn't. Considering it's Vala there's a good chance it's both.

"I have a very expansive mind when it comes to fun." There's that sly, knowing tone of voice, for a second or two at least. "But also a sense of propriety. The lady has first choice, of course." He lifted a hand, twirled it in the air as he brought his arm around his waist, and bowed grandiosely to her.

He's doing a pretty damn good job of avoiding getting his foot in his mouth. "What if I would prefer a few ideas from you first?" She leans a bit more comfortably up against the bar. "You are the one who strode up to me. Lets see what you have in mind." Too bad she couldn't read minds. That would make things fun.

"I strode up to you because you're lovely, so the two don't relate," the paladin responded with eternal cheer. He did a quick mental inventory of his available fun -- most of which, he suspected, either weren't her style or she was too inebriated to really do her best at. And he rather thought she'd prefer to do her best... if only to show him up. "Hmm, do you go in for pet battling at all? Or there's always a pleasant flight around."

"Rare is the time they don't relate to each other." He underestimated the amount she could drink if he thought she was that drunk. Size along gave her plenty more time and drink to enjoy. "I would prefer flight to pet battling. I haven't spent much time lately enjoying it." Business always calls and business always ruins the view.

"I had that suspicion. Everyone gets into the habit of viewing it as simply transport, a way to get from one place to the other with the greatest of speed. As if they weren't all awed and amazed the first time they took to the skies!"

Chuckling, Mar dropped a hand to his belt to check a pouch there. A quick tap told him yes, the flask he had tucked away in it was still there.

"But I'd be happy to take you flying in very literal fashion."

Okay that's a teeny-tiny bit suspicious. Maybe she should really re-consider. ...In fact she could turn on her hoof right now, walk out and pretend she never even spoke to him. And yet...

"I might regret asking this but what do you mean by literal fashion? I don't see wings on your back." Imagine how large they would need to be to carry him much less him and her.

"By way of an answer... let me ask you a question. Do you, perhaps, recognize this?"

With a dramatic gesture, Mar flipped open the pouch to whip out a bottle. Quite the bottle, at that -- faceted and purplishly pristmatic, filled with what seemed to be swirling sands rather than any conventional alchemical fluid.

The quirk of her brow is probably the fastest indicator that no, she is not familiar with it. Light help her, she was wondering if she wanted to. What was she walking into again? Or possibly flying away with as the case may be.

"This might surprise you but I'm not exactly well-acquainted with everything on Azeroth." Understatement of the century.

"My dear, this is -- or was -- the legendary Vial of the Sands. A secret recipe of the alchemical arts, this rare and potent concoction teaches the person who imbibes it a mighty and powerful spell. I have partaken, and so that power is mine. Now," he admitted with a grin, as he tucked the vial away again, "I keep the physical vial around as a conversation starter. Works, doesn't it?"

"You are a very strange elf." She shakes her head. Maybe she should start reconsidering this whole thing. "I also don't know many people who are set on learning both alchemy and knowing how to cut down what they have to." Read as: she knows a ton about fighting and survival. Nothing about alchemy or anything related to it.

"Oh, well, to be fair, I know a large number of people who know that, but I'm not one of them. My artistic expression is in another medium entirely." Mar lifted his hand, casually tapping the ruby set in one of his bracers with the backs of his mailed fingers. "I bought this one."

"A love of jewels and craftsmanship then." She tilts her head as she examines the bracer. Not because she was particularly impressed, but interested. It wasn't as though she never had anything decorated with gems. "I didn't know men of other races cared for such things." Because Draenei and gems went together naturally.

No need to get into his motivations -- on the one hand, cutting gems to an exquisite height of power, either to be used himself or sold. On the other, a desire to bring some beauty back to the world... especially no need to get into that one. "I'm just full of surprises. Stick around a bit and you might discover a few more, hmm?"

Oh no but his motivations were always going to be relevant, especially considering that he came up to her. If he thinks that she's going to just let it slip without a bit of prodding he would be horribly mistaken. "Perhaps you'd tell me why you care for such things first. Then maybe we can jump to the surprises."

"Well. If you're really interested." Which he doubted she truly was -- he figured this was some sort of test or what not. "Would you like to hear the ruthlessly practical motivation, the cheerful day-to-day one, or the idealistic dreamy one that doesn't at all fit with my rugged and studly image?"

"I want the genuine and honest answer." With her arms folded across her chest it might help get the point across that she's serious. Relatively serious at least. "Not one that needs to be dressed up up and spun like a fancy story." Someone isn't much of a optimistic daydreamer.

"Someone has no sense of mystery and wonder when in her cups," the paladin said, feigning affront. "Well, to be very simplistic about it... on the one hand, the money is good."

A candid admission, before he shut that one hand he was gesturing with. "But the money would be good in plenty of other professions as well -- or hell, I could just sell the ore I prospect and profit that way. But cutting gems, crafting figurines, shaping jewelry... well, to be honest, I like creating those little things of beauty. The world could use more of that."

"No I simply appreciate honesty." It was truth. Vala wasn't keen on the coy route in almost any way, shape or form. Probably explains a lot about her life fighting demons and the former stab first and ask question later mentality.

"So thank you. It's a bit idealistic but I suppose one could find worse ways to try and contribute to the world."

"Idealism is definitely one of my strong points. Oftentimes blind, but then again, who's realistically idealistic?" Mar shrugged, not making any apologies for himself.

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So a belf and a draenei walk into a bar...

and the draenei punches him-oh wait

later

bow-chica-wow-wow

welp thread over!

everyone go home!

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and from the depths, 1000 years later, crawls a spacegoat

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