When Lem's efforts in repairing the mug fail, he gets very still again, handing the mug over to Telly. He looks up, blinks, and becomes aware of his surroundings. He sees Yokini. A giant smile breaks across his craggy face, and he wraps her in a fierce embrace, squeezing his eyes shut, uttering no words, until: "been too long, Ini."

He eventually tunes in to what Telly has begun, yet again, to try to tell him. His mind replays what he'd missed, and his eyes dart back to his dwarven friend's. In a businesslike, to-the-point tone: "So we should go get it back for you, then. Yes?"

He hasn't let go of a half embrace of Yokini. He drops the mechanical arm on the bar with a lamenting half-smile. "It's seen better days. I did my best to keep it working. But I think it could use some love, Ini." He looks up, and the mage hand rubs his goatee thoughtfully. "You're back. Been traveling, I assume. Have stories to tell. I have none. I'll try to listen."

Telly will be able to see Lem's whole manner improve and become more socially tolerable, with Yokini near. 

Yokini puts down her mug after taking another sip and lifts the arm closer to her eyes, turning it and analyzing it as best she can with it attached to Lem. She fiddles with a few things, bends a few joints, and taps on the crystals a few times. "When we've got some space, I'll get it fixed up. I'm sorry it's been giving you trouble, Lemmy." She looks up into his eyes and smiles again. "And it's good to see you, too. Yes, I've got stories. Some really good ones, thanks to you." She picks her mug up again and takes a sip. "And a mystery, too, but that can wait." She looks over at Telly. "I'm sure this old army grunt would love to come to your rescue," she says, nudging Lem. "What's the story? And who are these Braids?"

Seeing Raddunth hesitating, Thistle walks in to the alehouse ahead of him.

OOC > There's been so much dialogue inside the alehouse, our bits outside may have gotten swamped, or Q may be busy this weekend, so since I'm not even sure Raddunth is coming with Thistle to the alehouse, I'm going to just proceed.

She stands in the doorway, letting her eyes adjust to the interior, shifting one scimitar a little on her waist. She's short, 5' 3", comfortable in her own skin, festooned with weapon hilts, but with an open face. She makes her way to stand at the bar, sweeping the room with her gaze, noting the people and groups. Her eyes linger on the Braids at their table, but not too long. The odd crew with the elephantine man also merit a pause, but finally she turns back.

"'Keep," she calls to anyone behind the bar. "A house ale, and if you've a room for me and a stall for my horse, those, too."

Quote from Mingofaust >>

Seeing Raddunth hesitating, Thistle walks in to the alehouse ahead of him.

OOC > There's been so much dialogue inside the alehouse, our bits outside may have gotten swamped, or Q may be busy this weekend, so since I'm not even sure Raddunth is coming with Thistle to the alehouse, I'm going to just proceed.

 

(Oops, I missed post 20. Apologies.)

Raddunth was puzzled, as he thought guards hassling people was part of the normal procedure, and was waiting his turn for abuse. When he notices that other people are entering and exiting the city without the guards reacting, he gets his horse to chase after Thistle.

Thistle has already gone into the alehouse by the time he arrives, so he quickly ties up his riding horse, and enters the alehouse.

Lem is now engaging with the world a bit more clearly and can thus notice Thistle’s entrance and request for a room and an ale, his eyes running over the many visible weapon hilts decorating her form.

His eyes narrow and his mage hand grabs a small dagger hilt in a scabbard on his side and rotates it around so it is not in Thistle’s line of sight, in an almost cartoonish manner - he’s looking at her as if she has stolen a bunch of people’s weapons and there’s no way she’s taking his.

He’s not even trying to conceal it. It’s outwardly hilarious, but unintentionally so. His attention then returns to the conversation at hand.

Yokini, still watching Lem, turns to look over her shoulder at whatever has captured his attention and turned his gaze dark. She takes in the sight of the young woman and then the large man wearing furs that comes in after her. She looks back at Lem. "What's wrong, Lemmy? You know that young woman?"

Zashier just observed the exchange with open amusement. "We?" Zashier would've said earlier, perking up, and motioning between the three of them. If/When someone catches him back up, he furrows his brow all the same at the mention of the Braids.

Recalling Anything on the Braids: 15.

Unfortunately, they were either something new or something the elephantman subconsciously avoided, so he shook his head over the errant thought. Hearing the door open again, he couldn't help but glance back at the new arrivals, and then do a double take over Thistle. "Psst. Hey. Not to be rude, as its not my way, but you thinking she might be willing to throw in as well? Join this little rescue operation, as it were. Just a thought. Oh! Or that guy too. Has a bit a meat on him, if I do so say myself. Might even be a bit experienced in this sorta thing, as it were." He says, gesturing from Thistle to Raddunth as soon as he enters the alehouse.

Lem shakes his head when asked if he knows Thistle - mage hand still gripping the small dagger. He seems to think she is here to collect everyone’s weapons and he doesn’t want to show his worthless dagger.

When Zashier asks about ‘we’ Lem looks at him, and replies, “there’s an achievable objective, and a strategic need, some ancillary benefits, and at least the start of a tactical team. You got anything more pressing to do?” It’s not clear if Lem recognizes Zashier, but he’s already falling back into his old martial habits. When Zashier looks at Thistle and Rradunth, his eyes run over them both in a new, appraising manner.

Raddunth has to wait for the barkeep to finish serving the others before ordering. (Puts down a GP.) "I want to get drinks for myself and my horse. First, a bucket of ale. And after that is taken outside, for me a pitcher of common wine with lunch." He glances over the crowd, not looking for trouble, but wanting to be ready in case it arrives.

He notices that the woman with the weapons has already gotten her drink. He also notices the table with 2 tiny people, as they also have that air of warriors about them. He is surprised that they would enter a tavern with their pet, a miniature oliphaunt dressed in people's clothes that is well behaved. (But he keeps that thought to himself.)

Thistle takes her drink and leaves coin for whatever she is buying, then turns to look at the small folk and their large friend. She makes eye contact with any (all?) of them and raises her cup.

”Come on, Furs,” she says to Raddunth, as she pushes off from the bar and makes her way towards their table. 

“Evening,” she says with a nod of greeting. “You look like you’re fixin to do something,” she glances towards the Braids, “And in this place, I rather stand here than over there when it happens. Friends call me Thistle.”

Yokini can't help but smile. "Evening yourself, young lady," the gray-haired gnome says. "We were just commenting on the two of you," she says, including Raddunth. "My name's Yokini Nackle. I've just arrived back in Fallcrest after being away a few years. This here's my good friend, Lemmy Sprak." She pauses as she turns to Zashier. "Well, and this is Zashier. I, well, I can't remember your last name." She looks back at Thistle. "Lemmy, Zashier and I used to serve in the army together against the orcs. I wasn't really part of the army — I worked for the army. Healin' mostly." She bashfully looks at Zashier again and back. "And that dwarf over there is ... well," she smiles apologetically, "I don't even know your first name," she admits to Telly.

“From the stories I’ve heard, the war was a terrible thing, and won at a terrible cost.” She raises her glass again. “I appreciate your service.”

She drinks, solemnly. Then she smiles widely, “Well, this mountain man is Raddi... Radish?” She looks at the barbarian questioningly. “We met at the southeast gate just now. He was very gentlemanly,” she smiles and makes a curtsy at Raddunth, her weapons bobbing.

”Could we join you? I’ll buy a round.”

“Recovery force. Extraction of a key asset,” Lem says to Thistle. He’s still eying her weapons. “Collecting?”

Thistle blinks at Lem and slowly tilts her head as she tries to parse what he just said. “Uh...,” she looks to Lem’s friends for an assist. “Am I collecting... I’m sorry, I don’t follow,” she smiles, confused.

When she introduces the barbarian, Lem nods seriously and the mage hand raises his glass. “Radish.”

"Let's move over to that table," Yokini suggests, motioning toward the table Zashier had been sitting at. She picks up her mug, slides off her stool, and marches over toward the table.

Thistle goes with her, and on the way whispers, “Why is the dwarf holding his dagger so tightly? Is he going to try to stab me?” She seems genuinely concerned.

The mage hand is darting between the dagger, the glass, and fidgeting with Lem's goatee. He's a bit late responding to Thistle's question. "Weapons." He points to the several hilts he can see on her frame. "You have enough. This one's mine. Right?"

When Yokini says to move tables, he nods to Telly and hefts himself off his stool and follows.

Does Lem hear Thistle's whisper? Perception if applicable: 7

Raddunth brings over the pitcher of wine, which is only half full. (From the liquid stains on the vessel, you suspect he has been drinking directly from the side of the pitcher.)

He mumbles a greeting, as his mouth is stuffed full of bread and stew, which is taking him time to chew and inhale.

Zashier mainly smiled and nodded along as other spoke, seeming content to just to observe and live in the moment. Even the statement about not knowing his last name merely got a 'don't worry about it' sort of wave. Though at the mention of the war, his ears droop and and brow ridges furrow in recollection. So lost in the past is he that, unless otherwise tug or prodded along, he stood there hunched over and in deep thought until well after the last of the party had moved off for the table.

Slowly but surely, it dawns on him that others have moved, and after a confused glance around, Zashier moseys on over to again squat down by Yokini and Lem, special brew in hand and deep look of concentration on his face. Every now and then he takes tentative sip, and shudders lightly in pleasure. "Oo! Might wanna be careful there, man. Purple's not a good look on a guy. I should know, according to me sis this one time long ago." He comments, gesturing from his cheeks to Raddunth.