Interesting Times (Ulric)

[Ulric]

Ulric absorbed the worst of the impact. Or rather, his skull took the brunt of it, bouncing off the stones and worsening his disorientation. “Grawp!” exclaimed Ulric. He wasn’t able to move for some reason, as if a Ravokian dominatrix had shackled him to a bed. More worrying, however, was the splat of what appeared to be mashed potato that loomed inches from his face. Mmm, potatoes. Ulric tried to giggle, but he couldn't seem to draw breath. “Gerroff!” he whined. Somehow he managed to wriggle free and push himself to his knees. “Sam, what the hell are you doing down there? He offered the lad a hand. “What happened?” he frowned. “Did we get attacked or summat?” Looking around, he saw the regulars were giving him a wide berth – some of them pointing and laughing. “Ah, petch off!” he brandished his dagger at them – which turned out to be a wooden flute. How had that happened?

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

"Whoa," Sam said slowly, looking around and trying to stay upright. Then he burped. "I think..." He then saw Ulric warning the other bar patrons away with his flute. That was odd, but everything was swimming a bit in his vision anyway. Was that strange or was it normal? He couldn't say for sure. "Are we in a fight?" he asked, dazed and confused. "I don't remember..." Well, someone must have pushed them over when Ulric started getting friendly. Wait, was Ulric hitting on him before? Was he defending Sam's honor now? "I've gotta go..."

[Ulric]

“Go?” Ulric lowered his flute. Did Sam want to leave, or did he need to take a piss? It was all very confusing. Ulric would probably be sad if Sam left. He didn’t have many friends in Syliras – or anywhere, for that matter. Also, he wasn’t certain he remembered the way back to his lodgings. “Want some company?” Ulric winked at Sam.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sam's dark eyes went really, really big as Ulric's lascivious desires became utterly apparent. Come to think of it, he didn't really like the suggestive, aggressive way he was waving that flute about, either. What sort of a floozy did he think Sam was?! "I... uh... that is... I mean... uh..."

[Ulric]

“Well come on, then,” Ulric leaned over. “Speak up!” Why was Sam looking at him strangely? Or at least that’s how it seemed. Ulric wasn’t at his sharpest, but the lad seemed flustered to him. Could it be that he’d spied a familiar face in the crowd – one that brought him pain or grief? If so, Ulric could easily wade into the crowd and shove his flute-dagger up the bastard’s arse, although now that he thought about it, that’d be the last time he played the damned thing. Blech! Clearly, they both needed another drink. “Back in a minute,” Ulric slurred. He returned to the bar and paid for another round, then carried the mugs back to Sam, spilling all the while. “Gots something extra special for you,” he proffered one of the mugs. “Drink up!” Ulric threw back his own ale, belching, and waited for Sam to follow suit.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sam was almost certain that it was mostly women who had to worry about men putting strange drugs in their drinks to knock them unconscious that they might ravage their bodies without protest. He peered into the suddenly suspicious brew in his hands, desperately trying to come up with a likely reason why he couldn't drink it without making Ulric angry -- he looked like the sort of guy who could get retard strong when drinking. "I don't... drink, actually," he said. Wait, what? "I mean... I think it might have gone bad. Taste it for me?" He tried to push the mug back into Ulric's hands. Clearly if the man refused to drink, then he was a sexual predator. If he did drink, at least he would be equally woozy and less capable of making Sam his butt boy. It never occurred to him that the ale might be pure and wonderful and good.

[Ulric]

“Taste it for you?” Ulric squinted at Sam. He was a little confused by the request, but shyke, it was ale after all. “Don’t mind if I do,” he beamed. Gripping the mug in unsteady hands, he brought it to his mouth and took a swallow. “It tastes fine,” Ulric handed the mug back to Sam. “Although… it was kind of bitter,” he said, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “D’you… d’you think it’s poison? Ulric gaped. Wait – had Sam put poison in the ale? It didn’t make sense. Why, it was more likely that the barkeep trying to kill them both. The barkeep… Ulric fixed the man with a near-homicidal stare. It all made sense, now.

Secret :

Happy (belated) birthday, btw.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Since Ulric was so quick to drink of the poisoned cup, then it couldn't have been poisoned in reality, or at least not by him. He began to breathe easier, even to forget what he had been worried about, but then he caught Ulric giving the stink-eye to the bartender and everything came back in a confusing rush. Had the bartender been eying Sam, thus provoking a jealous rage from Ulric? Had he been trying to warn Sam that Ulric was trying to poison him and now would face his wrath too? "What the shyke is going on?!" he shouted, utterly overwhelmed. OOCThanks! I've got my Depends on so I'm good to go!

[Ulric]

Startled, Ulric nearly dropped his mug. “Might ask you the same question,” he slurred as he brought the cheap ceramic to his lips. Empty? What the petch is this? “My dear boy,” Ulric flipped the mug onto a table and leaned closer. “Clearly, we’re the targets of a foul ‘ssasination plot. Heh-heh! No, can’t jest about it,” he scowled. “Sasigations are a serious business, y’see. Serious like salt in a sailor’s trousers. Needs t’be dealt with straightway,” Ulric prattled on. Even in his inebriated state, however, he was becoming aware that Sam had tumbled out of the boat. “Pr’haps,” Ulric sprayed the lad with spittle, “we should take a stroll ou’side. Just me’n you – no scalybeaks and the like,” he scowled at an empty table. “Nerve of them, comin’ into a respectable house like this.”

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

"A'right," he finally said, giving up to the inevitable. Shrugging, he shuffled off toward the door. Payment never entered into the equation in his head. There was no more to drink, Ulric was possibly a homicidal man-rapist, and things just didn't seem to be going Sam's way in general. At least outside the air would be clearer. Shuffle-shuffle... the hell? He bent over to pick up what looked like a coin and then got jostled to the ground. "Sonofaglassbeak!" He grunted and tried to get himself up again. This place was clearly about to explode into a melee and he didn't want to get dead.