The Sleepy Dragon

the norse clans

the norse clans

TNPer
As you look upon the inside of this great woodenh hall you see a rowdy bunch of bearded men in sheepskins bearing axes and swords, they are all laughing heartily and getting mightily drunk, you walk over to the bar to find that its just a table with several barrels behind it.

"The drink's free here my friend!" Shouts the Thrall behind the bar to try and beat the noise, "So what can I get you?"

A fight breaks out behind you and many of the Norsemen rush over to see who will win, this beer hall has just got a whole lot more rowdy.
 
A man falls out of the toilets, followed by two burly vikings

Unhand me you cads!

He stands up, brushes the dust off his clothes and makes his way to the bar

Barkeep! Another scotch, if you will.
 
The door to the great hall suddenly blows open, bringing with it a chill winter wind that cuts to the bone. A figure, wrapped in furs appears out of the darkness outside, crosses the threshold, and pauses on the inside of the door. As if commanded by the figure, the wind swirls viciously in the enterance way, before bringing the door shut with a might crash. The figure, still standing in the entrance way, pulls various bits of winter clothing from his person, and takes a deep breath

Ahh, the sweet mix of ale and sweat. My kind of place.

Removing the last of his over garments, and inextricably producing a bowler hat from within his cloak, he moves down the hall, sidestepping the continuing brawl, and arrives at the bar.

Barkeep, a tankard of you finest ale!

Mind full of thoughts of a long night emptying casks and breaking hearts, he wanders back down the hall, to see if he can get good odds on the current round of fistcuffs to have broken out.
 
The dandy looks towards the doorway
Charlie! Charlie, you old bugger! Always were one for a dramatic entrance.

Slapping 'Charlie' on the back, he leads him towards the bar

Sorry Old bean, I'm afraid I started without you. You took such a long time getting here; I'm already quite drunk...
 
*The barkeep looks up at the two gentlemen, and smiles

Another Scotch, sirs?

*moves away, but stays close enough to eavesdrop on the two sirs, wondering if these were the people she has been told to look for
 
Sitting down on an empty barstool, 'Charlie' paused for a moment of reflection. Like so many of their meetings this one had started in a dark tavern in the middle of nowhere. If experience was anything to go by, it wasn't going to get much better. Not to say his dealings with his dandyish friend weren't profitable, but there was always a mix of luck and chance about these affairs.

Taking a drink of the scotch in front of him, he pauses a moment to let the warmth flow through him, and studies the barkeep. It was perplexing in the extreme that he hadn't noticed such a beauty on first inspection. Either this was someone who didn't want to be noticed, or he was losing it. The later was obviously absurd in the extreme. Scanning the room, watching the hairy, loud drunks around the room, it was not suprising someone might wish to blend into the background.

Pushing other thoughts to the back of his mind, he turns to his friend.

Please, tell me theres a very good reason why I've come all the way out here? You said it was important.
 
A large norseman walks up behind the man in the bowler.

"'Ere, no 'ats in 'ere!"

The man looking abashed looks around.

"But they're wearing..."

"'Elmets mate, gerrit off or be kicked."

Bowler wearing man takes off his hat and goes on with his conversation.

(P.S. The finest ale here is likely to have been brewed in Greasy Sven's bathtub.)
 
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