Open [The Drunken Fish] A Most Interesting Morning (Tink)

[Roth Windcarver]

21st Day of Autumn This wasn’t how Roth had wanted to start his morning, but he wasn’t complaining, either. Slamming the tin mug down on the bar, he glanced around the room. It was just past sunrise, and he felt like he’d walked into a bar that had forgotten to lock its doors after closing up. A single bartender glared at him from across the bar, a fat man with a long scar over a milky white eye. In the corner a scantily clad woman dragged on a pipe, filling the pub with smoke. All this he’d seen before. Fighters, prostitutes, all thralls to the ever changing whims of chaotic Sunberth. It bored him. This is why I spend my time on the open sea he thought to himself. These landlubbers are so damn boring. He’d come here in the first place because he’d been promised free ale by an old friend who was passing through town, an offer he never passed up especially in the dark days after the loss of his sister. However, when he arrived his friend was nowhere in sight. The bartender had handed him his pint, paid for by the missing friend, and told him that “more pressing matters” had deprived him of an interesting morning. The only reason he stayed at all had been because the ale had been a damn good vintage, and now he was getting to the bottom of the mug. Roth sighed and swirled his mug, watching the brown slush roll about in the bottom, contemplating where he should be headed off to next, or if he should simply set sail once more for another tenday.

[Tink Scalpellion]

Tink stepped into the bar. More like jumped. Curses to Haramaus, why couldn't Pycon legs just be a little taller. Scanning the room, Tink noticed that there was a lone bartender and only one man drinking. Ehh. Mind as well go up to him and try to attempt some conversation. Walking over, Tink could smell the ales,beers, and various alcohols all across the room. Drinking. Ahh. Refreshing and wipes the brain of all memories, good or bad. Nothin' like anearly morningdrink, though I hope nobody will need my help. Don't need to accidentally hurt someone while I'm tryin' to help them. "Hey, man! Yeah. You! Mind to give me a lift? Believe it or not, this little Pycon can't jump up to that bartop! Names Scallpelion. Tink Scalellion. And who mightyou be?" Tink asked as he beckoned at the human.

[Roth Windcarver]

Roth sat up with a start, a shout from below startling him from his stupor. Looking down he saw what looked like a little clay man, waving his arms and shouting for him to help him get to the barstool. What in all the worlds is that thing? he thought to himself, amazed that someone had managed to make clay that could speak. Almost without noticing he leaned down and offered his hand out, waiting for the little man to step onto it before lifting him to the bar. “Roth…Roth Windcarver, sailor an’ fishmonger extrordinaire, at’chur service…err…sir, I presume?” He couldn’t help staring at the little creature, looking like it had recently been spattered with red paint, and it spoke with a voice far deeper than one would expect from such a small creature. “Yer a funny lookin’ thing, ya’know that? What in Laviku’s name put you in that little clay shell?” He downed the rest of his ale in a single swig, drinking with renewed vigor. Gasping with the burning pleasure as the achohol flowed through his viens, Roth gave a small smirk. “Hey, your folk don’t drink, do’ya?”

[Tink Scalpellion]

"Thanks for the lift, ummm. Roth. And yes, I am a sir." Tink couldn't help but smile at this simple mans surprise. He'd probably never seen anything remotely like Tink before. Haha. Well, least Tink could do is describe himself. "I assume your wondering what I am. So would I, if I were in your shoes! Before I begin, Let me get a drink." Tink beckoned to the bartender and ordered an ale. However, it took several minutes for it to be delivered because the bar didn't have small enough shot glasses. Ahh. Nothing like a cold ale and the chance to make some conversation with a fisherman. Wonder what he does for fun. He's probably a drunk who wanders from bar to bar wasting his time and money. "Now that I've got a drink, let me begin. I'm a pycon, which is a race of people created by the Alchemy god Haramaus. We're constructed out of clay,and can actually survive many hard hits! Now that I've explained a little about myself, tell me about you, Roth!" Tink said as he sat down on the table.

[Roth Windcarver]

“Well then, Mr. Scalpellion, you’re the most interestin’ thing that’s happened all morning. God of Alchemy, eh? Interestin’… Any idea why he’d make a bunch of walkin’ clay statues?” Roth mulled over the question the little clay man posed. How much was too much to reveal about himself? About his pod? He didn’t want to cause any difficulties with his family so far off. “Well… t’be honest there isn’t all that much to know. I work the docks, sellin’ the fish I catch on my boat. Got blown here by the storm at the start of the season, and decided to set up camp for a while before I go off to find my family. Trying to work up enough money so I can buy a bigger ship to come home with. Got anything that needs moving from city to city, or a particular kind of fish you want caught? I may be able to get you what you need, if the price is right.”

[Tink Scalpellion]

"Fisherman? Interesting! I'm actually a doctor, so if you ever need help, I'm your man!I can amputate, stitch, and give people drugs. Only thing I can't do is make them look younger or bring 'em back from the dead! So tell me about yourself! Got any family? Friends?" Tink's ale was delicious. It had just the right amount of kick to it. Delicious. He would certainly come back here if they always served drinks this good! Nothing like a good ale on a cold day while your making new acquaintances. Tink downed his ale rapidly and waved his hand motioning for the waiter to refill his glass! Tink was certain that he surprised the man with his drinking spped. Nobody expected the little men to be so speedy. Just another race stereotype. Ahwell, nothing you can do about it. Tink was watching the man,eagerly waiting for his answer.