Solo Mop Man

[Bennar Witt]

17th of Spring, 515 A.V.
The Obsidian Club

Benji was, once again, in the Club. He was not behind the bar, since Rynas was more than capable of handling the few customers that lingered, hunched over the polished wooden bar counter. Bennar was mopping the dance floor with the beaten old rag-stick that he hated so much. Naia had slipped into the door that was still a complete mystery to the server. Rynas, the employer he and the best relationship with, had never once brought up the door, save to tell him not to ask about it on his first day. Benji took that as a not so subtle cue to forget about it.

“Hey.”

Benji glanced around himself at the sound of the rough voice. Most of the patrons were slumped over drinks at the bar. They were the daytime shifters, or the ones who cannot sleep. Sullen, tired folk who drank in solitude. But one patron stood against the wall of the club, away from the bar. He preferred to take his drinks completely alone. He was the one who had hailed Benji so rudely. The server managed a fake smile, a practice he found useful when dealing with drinkers at the Obsidian Club. People tended to tip more when they thought they were charming. Somehow, he thought this particular patron may not be so inclined.

“What can I get you, sir?” Benji asked politely, leaning the mop against the wall.

“I want ale. But not this stale, flat stuff.” He said, shaking the tin tankard in his hand. He was a big gruff man with quite the head of hair, pulled back and tied. It made him look wild, and was not helped by his unkempt beard and leathery face. Benji regarded him with a cool eye. A complainer. Negotiating with customers was never fun, especially when their logic and their words were laced with the influence of alcohol.

“I’m sorry sir, the ale was rolled out this morning. I can get you another tankard of the same though.” The tone was carefully reasonable, though that was definitely not how Benji felt like phrasing it. He had to mop the whole petching floor! He didn’t have time to bicker over the quality of ale.

“Well go roll out another petching barrel.” He said with a laugh and a shrug. “I’m a paying customer, after all.”

“Sir, I assure you that the ale is newly corked and of the highest quality.” Benji began, trying to negotiate the stubborn man back down. But the man shook his head silently. He shoved a finger at the floor.

“Look, I’ve been out there moving pounds of tea leaves across Lhavit all day. I’m not here to haggle with a mop-man.”

“I’m not haggling. That is the policy of this establishment.” Benji almost snapped, but reined in his temper. “Would you let me check with my boss?”

The man shrugged and glanced at the bar. “Yea, you do that.”

Benji was gone before he had finished speaking. His teeth ached from clenching his jaw so tight. I’m not a petching slave, you dolt. Benji hurried behind the bar and approached Rynas. “Hey, this petching goon wants fresher ale, he says the stuff we have rolled out is flat.”

Benji fully expected Rynas to frown, shake his head and tell Benji to send the man to him if he had any more trouble with him. But Benji was disappointed. Rynas went and checked the barrel they had rolled out at opening. The lean bartender shrugged and turned back to Benji.

“Yea it’s kind of low. Go ahead and roll out a second one, we can record and keep it for the first few bells tonight too.” Rynas said, his voice light and easy-going.

Benji rolled his eyes, and felt the agitation flare up inside when Rynas looked at him again. He nodded and ran a hand through his hair to hide the clear anger on his face. “Okay.” He said.

[Bennar Witt]

There was an alcove behind the far end of the bar, in the corner. It served as a kind of storage area where they kept the unopened bottles, and fruits, and small barrels of ale that they had shipped every few days. Benji stepped around the corner into this hidden area. Once past the line of sight to the ever watchful Rynas Benji drew the dagger he had bought only days hence and stabbed it repeatedly into the wooden corner of a shelf of whiskey jars with a fast, shallow hammering motion. His blows were an outburst of anger, doing no real damage to the already battered shelf. Nonetheless it was oddly satisfying to see the gleaming blade’s tip embed itself into the wood. Some dark, wildly angry part of his mind imagined how that old drunk would treat him if he came back wielding this.

He’d probably gut me, and then Rynas would fire me. The logic of the thought put a damper on his righteous fury. Benji was resentful of his own objectivity. Benji groaned and glanced back at the entrance to the bar. He would serve the old shyke his damned ale and get back to his work, not giving it a second thought after that. Yes, yes that is what he would do. Besides, the man was not worth his time. Benji could fry him with a thought.

Benji found a new squat barrel. They were only a bit higher than his knees, the ale barrels. They only bought a few per week, since most came for the wild mixed drinks. Ale was more of a common drink, and the Obsidian Club was not so big on the ‘common’ theme.

Benji made an attempt to stab the dagger into the shelf above the nearest barrel of ale. He failed. The dagger slid between the panels of the barrel and he watched in horror as the ale within began to slowly leak out, dripping down the side. “Oh shyke!” Why hadn’t he just sheathed the damn thing?! This was a damned disastrous shift!

Benji quickly wrapped his arms around the barrel and pulled it from its place on the shelf. The thing hit the dusty floor with a muffled thud. The ale trickled down onto the stones of the floor as Benji struggled with it. He tipped it on it’s side and turned the dagger to face upwards. At least he had managed to make it stop leaking, and it looked like it hadn’t lost too much of the alcohol.

How could he fix this? Benji squatted there, gingerly holding the barrel straight with one hand and fumbling with his dagger with the other. He eventually got the thing back into it’s sheath, feeling rather sheepish for having drawn it on no one. Now he needed to find a way to stopper the hole and get it back out front, and quickly. Rynas would eventually notice he wasn’t there. He might even think Benji was trying to skip out on his shift.

To say the least, He was in a pickle. A pickle of his own creation sure, but still. Blue eyes shifted around the cluttered room, looking for some way to stopper the cracked barrel. There was nothing, the room was empty save for the barrels of ale, and jugs of liquor.

I can just drink it all myself. Benji couldn’t help but snort with laughter at that thought. His humor was ill placed, as always. Rynas was probably still ignorant of his absence though, thank the gods. He only had a few minutes before he would have to explain why he stabbed a cask of ale with his dagger.

I could shield the damn thing and hope that works. The idea sent a chill of nerves through him. Sure, it could be done in a few minutes, if he was lucky. But if caught, would Rynas know what he was doing?

[Bennar Witt]

In the span of a few wild heartbeats he decided to go ahead with the shielding. What was life if not a series of wildly idiotic risks? Or something like that.

Benji began to focus in on his djed. He felt it stir with his awareness. His body’s essence seemed to quiver under his own mental scrutiny, as if his mere thoughts touching it might change it’s nature. Benji ignored the slight impulse to try. He needed to focus on the task at hand. It would not be too difficult, not for one of his caliber, but he might be caught. And that could spell trouble for the young Alvadan.

Benji carefully arranged his back to the entrance. If anything, he could hear Rynas coming and be able to hide his attempt before the man noticed it. Benji could smell the ale as he leant in close, his eyes peering at the small crack. He could just cake the thing in djed, or he could wedge a smaller bit into the hole. It would be quicker to block the hole. The djed flowed in a tiny dose from him. To a normal onlooker it just looked as though Benji was staring at the barrel, his hand raised in a vague gesture.

The djed slipped from him with an ease that came with practiced magic. To part with ones’ own essence was something that took a long time to get used to though. Benji blinked back the sensation as he focused in on the eager piece. It was no longer connected to anything, and needed to be reintroduced into the natural balance of the world. Benji ushered it into the slim crack in the barrel’s exterior. The djed clung to it and Benji had to strain to manipulate the essence minutely into all the crevices. His mind urged it to fit in, and when it did not, he reshaped the djed.

When that was done, he sighed and rolled his head. Sounds of muttered conversation came from around the corner, and he heard Rynas ask a customer what they wanted to drink. This was a good sign, it meant he was still engaged in with the bar activity. Thank the gods for those day drinkers.

Benji wondered vaguely if the customer who had demanded this damn new ale would come complain to Rynas that it was taking too long. He might do just that solely to cause trouble for Benji. But the man had seemed a lot less concerned with the conflict than Benji was. He had looked like the type of man who picked fights and rubbed people the wrong way on a daily basis.

Benji began his focusing ritual again. He would need to task the shield to block out the ale somehow. But would it be enough to block out liquids? The only liquid he had ever tasked a shield to block was water. Would that be enough to keep the ale in the barrel, or would it make for a filter that let the barley and other elements of the concoction trickle out the side?

[Bennar Witt]

Benji searched through his mind. He tried to recall every jumbled bit of knowledge concerning ale he could. Attempting to organize and categorize it all into pertinent and irrelevant information was almost too much to translate into a task. He needed to give the shield enough to keep the ale inside the barrel though. Benji ended up sending forth a vague description of liquid and trying ti hastily impress it upon the nature of the drink. He tried to smooth the task evenly over the tiny sliver of djed shield. He broke his gaze from the task to glance furtively at the alcove entrance.

The mage urged the idea of barley, though he was not so sure what it looked like. He finished by mentally prodding the djed shield that he had shaped and wedged into the crack, checking the tasking. When he was completely satisfied he blinked himself back to reality.

The whole process hadn’t taken much more than a few minutes. Rynas may not be checking on him, but he would definitely be curious as to what took him so long. There was nothing left to be done, save to test the shield. Benji strained to lift the barrel, grasping the rounded edge and pulling it towards himself. He let out a low groan momentarily as the barrel righted itself.

He did not have to search to see if the shield was working. Ale was now spraying out of the barrel in tiny streams, three, all angled in different directions from the shield. He hazarded to stick his head closer to peer at the offending failure with a critical eye. Then he probed with his mind to feel the shield.

In his haste he had failed to properly attach parts of the tiny shield to the wooden sides of the crevice as well as spread the task evenly. But it was only a sliver of a thing! He protested to himself. The gods couldn’t cut him a break this once? Benji quickly turned the barrel over again. He made no attempt to fix the shield, he had already wasted enough time in the back room.

Instead the mage wedged the barrel back on the shelf and slid out a new one, that had not offended him. The server hefted it onto his shoulder and stood up carefully.

As he passed his boss, Rynas looked askance at him. Benji caught a small frown splayed across his face. This was a sure sign that he needed to explain himself. Benji set the new barrel carefully down on the bar and leaned in to whisper.

“I dropped one of the barrels and there’s a crack in it.” As Rynas inhaled quickly to reprimand his employee Benji cut him off. “Don’t worry, we didn’t lose too much out of it, it’s on its side in there.”

“That ale is coming out of your pay, Witt.” Rynas’s tone was slow and full of disappointment.

Wonderful.

Benji felt around with his fingers at the base of the barrel and found the shive. He carefully turned the barrel so the shive was facing him. Rynas appeared next to him and subtlety nudged him out of the way. “Don;t want you petching anything else up.” He said in explanation. Benji watched as Rynas expertly hammered the spike into the barrel and then lifted it into a tilted shelf at the end of the bar. He then turned and looked expectantly at Benji. “Well, get the glass!”

Oh right. Benji quickly retrieved a clean tankard from the bar’s stock. After Rynas impatiently filled the glass and gave him another cold look as he handed it over, Benji searched the bar for his rude customer. The man was not leaning against the wall as he had been previously. Nor was he at the bar sitting with anyone else. Benji, confused, moved to check the private rooms.

It was rare that anyone used them at this time of day. Almost none of the locals who came in now had the money to dish out on a private room, and no one needed the space. After all, the bar was almost empty. But perhaps that fellow had been arrogant enough to fork up the ten Kina just to show he could? As Benji checked each of the private rooms, he found them empty.

He had just up and left! After all that trouble, there wasn’t even a customer to be ungrateful to him. With a sigh and a shake of the head Benji realized the man had left him standing there with an overflowing tankard of ale like an idiot. After an intense moment of self reflection he ambled over and set the ale on the bar next to the closest patron. “It’s on me.” He said.

Then he turned in search of his mop.

[Brandon Blackwing]

BENNAR WITT

XP:

• Housekeeping +1
• Observation +3
• Acting +1
• Socialization +2
• negotiation +1
• Dagger +1
• Logic +1
• shielding +1
• Bodybuilding +1
• Subterfuge +1

Lore:

• Housekeeping: Mopping the floor
• Acting: fake smile
• Negotiating with the “drunk complainer” archetype
• Shielding: spread the task evenly through the shield!
• Shielding: the troubles of trying to stop a leak with shielding
• The rude patron

Notes:
Heh, you never fail to entertain me. A nice little thread, as expected

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credit goes to Adelaide Sitai