Arrow had been busying himself behind the bar, straightening and cleaning the many bottles and jars of brewed, fermented and distilled beverages that made up the stock peddled to the patrons who came to slake a thirst. The bulk of his day had been spent in the brew house, of course. That was his primary duty, and it was an employment he took great joy in, as well as some small modicum of pride. But his tasks there were completed, for the moment, and Grath had needed to step away from the tavern for a few hours. So Arrow had been happy to oblige his old friend and newish employer by filling in behind the bar, as he often did. Being a highly sociable being, Arrow enjoyed this part of his job too. Slowly, all the damage wrought during the storm had been repaired, Arrow and Trouble both lending a ready pair of hands to the Jamoura couple. And honestly, things were looking pretty good again. All the rooms were back to a habitable state, and had been restored to their former arboreal décor. The common “room” of the pub, completely open to the air and thus more akin to a large patio or veranda encircling the tree, was complete once more with tables and chairs large enough to accommodate the considerable size of the majority of its customers, those being the local Jamoura. There were however smaller sets built to accommodate the more humanoid size patrons, and there were still a good number of such lingering in The Spires after the influx of aid workers in the Spring.
As one such prospect came walking across the petal, Arrow looked up and thought that here indeed was a man that would find the Jamoura sized furnishings quite ridiculously large, at least in their height. The stature, bulk and complexion of the Isur gave away his racial heritage in a glance, and Arrow grinned a bit as the fellow tried out one of the larger seats, and then hastily slid down and came up to the bar, where the stools were visibly smaller. Arrow nodded in a friendly way, and when the Isur ordered up a mug of the house special, he smiled.
“Sure thing. Will you be wanting some dinner to go along with that?” He was already turning away, taking up a smooth, polished wooden mug and going to draw off a serving of the honey based brew. Grath had taught him the secrets of its ingredient and preparations, and this might well have been a batch that he had made himself. But they had worked hard to make the quality consistent so the patrons were always sure to get a premium product.
Turning back to the bar, Arrow set the mug down in front of the Isur, and then tapping the counter just in front of the gold miza with his forefinger. “Shall we leave that for now, or do you know one’s your limit.” He smiled again, in his pleasant way, his green eyes flickering to the arrival of a second customer who also bypassed the Jamour-sized chairs in favor of the lower stools at the bar. This one’s appearance too immediately identified his race, and Arrow looked at him with interest. He might have wondered what had brought two individuals from two such disparate races to the Spires in the first place. But with the advent of the storm and then all the many people who had come to help rebuild the treetop city, he had encountered many of the races of Mizahar, here in the leaves, and on the ground as well of course.
He nodded affably to The Symenestra as well, with a cordial smile . “I’m on it,” he replied to the pale creature’s order, moving to draw another mug of nectar, setting it down in front of the guy, and then walking back towards the kitchen area. Here he put in the order with Kashal, who made no fuss over the special needs over the patron. If there was a cook in all of the Spires that wanted to see those who ate of her fare going away happy and well fed, it was Grath’s mate. Telling Arrow to come back in a few minutes, she turned to her task.
Arrow was walking back around to the bar counter when he glanced up at the sky. The last streaks of deep orange had disappeared from view many minutes ago, but that was due to the dense foliage all around and over them. The sun was just now finally lowering herself below the unseen horizon. The sky to be seen overhead was a light indigo, and as he walked, Arrow felt that tingling that was so familiar he barely noted it. In mid-stride, there was a brief flash and where the human form he exhibited while Syna ruled the heavens had been, there was now Leth’s son, a creature of exquisite beauty, with curving butterscotch-yellow horns, rust colored hair that flowed loosely about his shoulders, and skin that held a sheen of opalescence in the faint light of evening. But, he was still your basic everyday bartender, and he thought little of his transformation, except to send one swift silent prayer up to his father who had yet to make his appearance in the darkening sky above.
Slipping behind the bar again, he approached his two newest customers, saying easily, “Your dinner will be up in just a few,” to the Symenestra. To the Isur besides him, he asked affably, “How’s that drink? Is it to your liking? I know some find it a bit too sweet, when they have a taste for beer or ale.”
by Tythos Everstorm on September 10th, 2012, 7:11 pm 
