Solo For the Future

[Verin Rush]

81st Day of Winter, 513AV The Malt House was busy - not as busy as Verin had ever seen it, but it was busy nonetheless, and Verin found himself enjoying every moment of it. The elder of the Rush twins often felt complacent at his place of work, and more often that not, it took effort on his part to leave the room he was renting in order to make his way over. He knew that he was likely wasting himself; though he didn't have the same drive to learn academic subjects like his brother did, Verin placed his education in high esteem and he didn't have any interest in continuing bar-work for much longer. Grayson Falkes, who Verin now considered a close friend, having worked for and with him for so long, understood Verin's plight - just like everyone else, he had never been overtly told, but Verin made no secret of his devotion to Rhysol and the tavern owner was not a slow-witted man... he had no doubt worked it out. However this led Verin to be at the receiving end of much banter from the regulars and Grayson, who enjoyed teasing him mercilessly on the subject of taking over once Grayson moved on. Often, Verin would grit his teeth, smile and respond that, at the way Grayson was continuing, it likely wouldn't be long before that was the case. Despite the light jests, teasing, the soul-crushing monotony was ever present... "Yous still serving food, boy?" A man, well dressed, with a number of men in tow, broke Verin out of his cleaning of the bar surface. Such a task had long since become muscle memory and he could drift into his own thoughts. He glanced up and eyed the man, and his cohorts, noting that he had not seen them in here before. The tavern was lucky enough to attract the well off as well as the drudges of Ravokian society, though he was relatively surprised to see such men at this time. “Personally? No, I'm not still serving food, Sir. Nor was I.” Always one to enjoy a verbal sparing, Verin often found himself playing with the semantics of what a patron said, luckily, the man seemed to take it in good humour, as he suspected. “The girls and kitchen staff will, however, continue to serve food for the next... four bells or so.” It was a rough estimate; Verin, always keenly aware of the value of money, would convince Grayson to send the girls and kitchen staff home whenever patronage to the tavern had lulled for the night. But it was more that that - by that point, people would be intoxicated and though the city was no comparison to the stories he had heard of Sunberth, it wasn't always safe. The girls were service helpers and if they wanted to prostitute themselves out, they would have gone to work as one of the many brothels in the city. Grayson disagreed, adamant that the girls were a good sight for the men, but Verin was far more stubborn. "Then five of your best fish, if you'd be so good," he man ordered in his deep voice as the four behind him nodded enthusiastically. Mentally checking the day, the blond replied regrettably, “I'm afraid that we only have trout today, Sir.” As a commonplace dish, it tasted good but Verin could hardly define it as a delicacy, nor even the 'best'. Apparently it was good enough, though, because the man waved his hand to indicate acceptance of this offer. “It will be about half a bell,” Verin said, over estimating because he knew how busy it was. “Can I get you gentlemen any drinks whilst you wait?” He glanced around and the muttered between them before a man piped up from the back that ale would suffice. Five mugs later, he passed them over for the correct money, adding on the price of the food to the tab. The total came to 4gm, 5sm, which the men paid for in silver and copper pieces, much to Verin's irritation. But he forced a smile and accepted the money, knowing in the back of his mind that the change would come in useful later in the night.

[Verin Rush]

Verin was surprised when the serving girls brought the food out for the five men in half the time he had originally estimated; continued good service for well-paying customers and groups could only mean more business for the tavern, and more revenue. Though the blond bartender didn’t expect to be working here forever – on the contrary, he hoped to be handing in his notice within the next year or so – he was proud of what he had achieved through working in the Malt House. He had been able to keep himself and his brother alive following their father’s death; Verin and Venser had struggled to stay afloat as the money dwindled… clearly Vilkas Rush had not been working, or he had squandered all of his money. “Both. The man drank himself into an early grave,” came the cynical voice that often preyed on Verin’s darker thoughts. “And the Rising Dawn doesn’t pay very well.” The brothers had no proof that their father was a member of the Rising Dawn, even though they knew that he was a Syliran through and through. Al that mattered was that the Rising Dawn and Ebonstryfe thought the Rush patriarch had been as such, which meant that the brothers were not executed for the murder of another citizen. “But he hadn’t been a citizen, had he?” "Hey, Verin!" The blond looked over to see Bennett, a regular, waving him over. To his right, however, Verin noticed a second man, who he instantly recognizes as the man who had come dangerously close to releasing a more violent side of Verin, earlier in the season. Upon more scrutiny, he came to the conclusion that neither man was too intoxicated, but he was not yet prepared to enter into another discussion which would likely turn sour for him. Raising his hand, he gestured that he had more work to do, and he smiled before disappearing into the back. Many barrels of ale were kept as decorative tables and left in the rafters to add to the décor of the main tavern, most were empty. Through the kitchens was a pair of small rooms, one of which was filled with shelves, storing bottles of red and white wine, some cheap and some more expensive. As he passed it, he considered that he should probably take some of the cheaper, less matured wines out to put on display behind the bar; they were running low, having sold a number of them in the few days previously. But now, he was headed to the second room, which stored a number of barrels of ale. Though he was lean, Verin did not put much effort into toning his muscles; even after working at the Malt House for a number of years, he still found moving the barrels filled with liquid hard work. The one he wanted was sat atop another, and he wrapped his arms around it, before bracing himself. He spread his legs wide and lowered his body so as to not do damage to his back and, taking a deep breath, he lifted the barrel. Teetering, the young man staggered back with the weight in his arms before he finally let it drop to the ground. It fell a little heavier than he expected it to; the ground must have been farther away than he had estimated. He groaned to himself, knowing the ale inside was now likely to be unsettled, and it would have to sit before he hooked it up. Verin tried to be careful for the rest of the way back to the main bar, and he shoved and rolled it the rest of the way back, only lifting it over the uneven ground. Once there, he kicked it in towards the side before turning away; in half a chime or so it would be ready to change, luckily the current barrel had enough to hopefully get through any requests for ale.

[Verin Rush]

"Verin, we’re celebrating and we’d like something a little different from the bog-standard ale we usually drink," Bennett summoned him over as he waited for the new barrel to be ready, "Anything you suggest, lad?" Walking over, Verin eyed the two men. Both had eyes which were slightly red-rimmed, but they continued to hold themselves well, rather than relying on the bar for the majority of their support. Grayson would likely give him an earful for thinking as such, but Verin was keen not to allow them to get too drunk, remembering the previous time Bennett’s friend had been in the Malt House all too clearly. “What are you celebrating, Grayson?” He asked – thankfully the friend was remaining silent, but Verin aimed his question specifically at the patron he knew in order to keep it that way. "The coming of Spring, of course!" Bennett grinned, "Soon they will be changing to green, you know." Despite himself, a grin formed on Verin’s face. Winter had always been his favourite season, having always liked the long nights, crisp air, and silent hours that the season brought. But he both celebrated and mourned the Valterrian, just like most sentient and intelligent beings in the city. His own interpretation made it a glorious day for Rhysol. “You’re about ten days early, friend,” Verin replied with a light, mocking tone as he raised an eyebrow. Bennett seemed to be having none of it though, "We can start our celebrations early if we wish, lad. ‘Case you hadn’t noticed, we’re getting’ on a bit. Who knows if we’ll make it to Spring." The oldest twin’s brow rose even higher, and he bit back his response about drinking less often would lead to a longer life. Verin’s study into poisoncraft had taught him that the product of alcohol, just like some medicines at places of healing, was a form of poison. They dulled the senses and, in a high enough dose, could be fatal. But Grayson would not listen to such nonsense, as he had once brushed it aside as when Verin broached the subject before. “Well, seeing as you’re eating dark meat,” he nodded down to the plates in front of the pair, though he was still resolutely trying to avoid the gaze of the other man – as a bartender, he had an obligation to be nice and polite to any customers, but h could still try to avoid talking to the man, lest he try his patience, which was not limitless, yet again. “I suggest you have some claret with it.” Turning, he reached up and picked up a bottle of red wine from one of the higher shelves. It was not one of the most expensive, as Verin knew Bennett would not be able to afford a better one, but it was also relatively low in the strength of alcohol, though it didn’t taste as such. For some reason, he suspected that Bennett turning up here nightly in the lead up to the changing of the Watchtowers was likely, and he didn’t want to see the man intoxicated every night. “It has a fruitier taste, which will compliment the rest of the meal superbly.” This time he looked at both men, as they would be sharing the bottle. The friend reached for it and Verin handed it over in silence. A few minutes of examining it and he nodded as he placed it down on the table. The young man returned the nod and bent down to retrieve two large glasses from the shelves below he bar top. “A good choice.” He uttered, despite having chosen it himself, he knew the words would seal the deal, as he uncorked the bottle gently and poured each glass about half way before pushing them towards each man.

[Verin Rush]

"I’ve finished with the old barrel, Verin," came Grayson’s voice as he strolled behind his employee. Vein didn’t look up as he inclined his head briefly to acknowledged the older man’s words. Enough time had passed, Verin decided, since he had left the barrel of ale that he had earlier mishandled, to settle again. With Bennett’s distraction and brief period of cleaning the top of the bar, of spilled ale, almost forty chimes had passed. Possibly not enough, but it would do. Dropping the rag he had been cleaning with in a wash barrel on the back wall, he walked back over to the two barrels, one empty and the other full. He pulled out an old ale mug and pulled at the lever, watching as the final few dregs of the ale trickled out. Placing said mug back on the side behind him, he knew that Grayson would likely finish off the liquid if he left it there long enough; Verin himself didn’t feel like drinking anything other than water tonight. With a sigh, he lowered himself down so that he was kneeling on the ground, allowing him better vision and access to the barrel tucked in under the contraption they used to draw out the alcohol. There, he angled his head and hands so and tugged and twisted at the pipes until the barrel was free, at which point he pulled it out and pushed it away. "Can I help you?" A small voice asked from above him and he looked up to tee one of the serving girls standing there with a tray of dirty plates in her hand. For a moment, he considered refusing the assistance, as the girl had her own jobs to do. But Verin was not a proud man and he knew that the girl was capable of helping if she wasn’t busy, which she likely was not, seeing as she had approached him of her own volition. Nodding, he replied, “If you put those plates away to be cleaned, you can move this empty barrel into the back. It isn’t too heavy now that it is empty, so you shouldn’t have any trouble with it.” The girl smiled and turned away as he went back to his own task. The barrel was in place below the lever by the time the girl returned, “Just shout if you need any help,”he said softly and he watched for a moment as the girl struggled with the barrel before getting a good grip on it and making her way out of sight. All that was left was to tighten the tubes back in place, which was the easiest step, though it could cause the most mess if done wrongly. He made sure that they were as tight as possible before standing up again and, reaching behind for the mug he had used earlier, he placed it under the nozzle and pulls down on the lever. The golden fluid came out frothing, but mostly weak. He could tell that it was not yet completely settled, as th majority of the ale coming out of the nozzle consisted of bubbles, “Must be what’s causing the amount of froth, rather than actual liquid,” he mused to himself as he placed the mug down again and went over to explain the situation to Grayson, who nodded genially. He turned and took a sudden step back, knocking into the owner of the tavern as he did so, as he found the girl standing right behind her. Bennett and a few of the other patrons around the bar proper chuckled a little at the sight and Verin’s eyes darkened as he stared at the girl. She had the decency to blush, "Sorry, Verin…" she murmured as she blushed, but he waved it away and motioned for her to continue, "I put the barrel in the back room, with the others… I didn’t know what you wanted me to do with it." He blinked at her lack of proactivity, knowing that she had worked here for quite some time now. “You should know by now that old barrels shouldn’t be left with the filled ones,” again she blushed; Verin found her rather alluring when she did such a thing, but he shook his head, clearing his mind of such thoughts, “Never mind, I’ll deal with it. Likely Grayson wants it dried and cleaned before being put up somewhere in the tavern. Go back to clearing up the tables.” The girl smiled shyly and scurried away, and the blond watched her for a moment before closing his eyes at the laugher from the men at the bar, “More wine, gentlemen?” He asked before they could enter into more teasing at his expense.

[Verin Rush]

Vein counted through the silver and copper Mizas that he had just been handed in exchange for the two mugs of ale and meals, “You’ve overpaid me, Sir,” Verin said softly as he held out his hand to the man who had originally paid the money. The man smiled and thanked him before walking away with his ale and companion. With no one waiting to be served, Verin watched the pair of beefy men as they took a seat at a table in the back. Had the men been drunker, and had it been Grayson, or another of the bartenders serving them, the excess money might not have been handed back. It wasn’t uncommon for customers to be cheated out of their money if shopkeepers, assistants and bartenders thought they could get away with it, but Verin wasn’t one of those people. It wasn’t much that he was particularly more honourable than others in the city he did, after all, avidly worship the God Rhysol. Were he to ever cheat someone in such a manner, (“Betray is too strong a word, in such an instance…”) or even betray them, he would want said person to know what he had done, knowing they could do nothing about it. Since the most recent execution of a few members of the Rising Dawn, the devout Rush brother had fantasised more and more about going undercover in the insurgent group and, in serving his God, betray the traitors to the justice of the city. More importantly, however, he wanted to be able to look into the eyes of the traitors and watch their reactions as they realise, too late, what had happened to them. The petty gain of money would not help the Malt House in the long run, nor would it be satisfying in the least to the young blond. A boy, a few years younger than Verin, came over with a tray piled high with clean mugs, flagons and glasses, muttering that there were a few more to come. Verin thanked the young lad and began placing the vessels away, starting with the more breakable, which were the glasses used for the wines. They lived on the board behind the bar, and he placed each one carefully down on the shelves behind him. “If nothing else,” he returned to his earlier stream of consciousness the task was mind-numbing, and he had done it so many times that it was muscle memory He was glad to be able to switch off and think as he worked, “Working as a bartender at the Malt House will ultimately be a useful history to have. I might be able to keep the job when I join the Black Sun.” Despite previous doubts in himself, he had come to the determined conclusion that one day he would achieve what he had always dreamed, and he had stamped out any pessimism after trying to convert a faithless Ravokian. “People trust bartenders, especially Grayson, who makes an effort to talk to those willing to enter into communication with him…” Verin had always been polite to customers, but he had never gone out of his way for them. Pushing the final glass onto the shelf, Verin looked over to his employer who was, as expected, deep in conversation with a punter. “With more effort, I could gain the same trust in guests… the alias of Verin the bartender could be of endless use to the Black Sun.” Verin smiled to himself as he bent down to put the mugs and larger flagons away under the bar front. For the past number of years, this had just been a means to live for Verin, but he was beginning to see how his work might actually be useful for his future. Standing, he looked over to the door to see the five men he had served earlier leaving the tavern. “Goodnight, gentlemen,” he called as he smiled widely, though politely, at them and he raised his hand in a brief wave. They inclined their heads, smiles appearing on their lips in return. Turning, he caught Grayson’s incredulous expression, as if someone had taken over his body. He raised a brow of his own, “What?” He asked innocently, and he grinned at the tavern owner’s amiable shake of his head before turning to serve a waiting punter.

[Abstract]

Grade Awarded!

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Verin

Award :

Skills

~ Rhetoric – 2
~ Bartending – 4
~ Observation – 1
~ Bodybuilding - 1

Lores

~ Bartending: Overestimating for Busyness
~ Bartending: Avoid Conversation With Troublemakers
~ Bartending: Useful for Gaining Trust

Other

N/A

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Notes

I gave you a second point in Rhetoric, for avoiding conversation with someone quite well Otherwise, a well-written thread! You certainly covered a lot of the work that bartending covers, so good job on that!