Multi-pup post
Tower hasn't been in for quite a while. Somehow, he didn't feel like drawing cards for everybody on New Year's, this time around. There are so very many new years, anyway. One per world per year. You could never stop the prophesies if you were going to mind them all. So Tower is by the bar, drinking scotch and not thinking about anybody's future and destiny at all. Instead, he thinks about the coming spring, and women. Women are always nice to think about.
Teja is sitting by the fireplace, turning a small, nasty crossbow in his hands. This is not the weapon that killed him; Teja has a good idea as to what happened with that one. Between a Bright Shiner, Charter-kindled flames, and a sizeable dead body consumed by them, one small weapon does not stand much of a chance. No, this is the weapon that Urquhart brought upon his second entrance, the same thing over, just as Teja brought the harp and battle axe again, when he returned. He has worked out, by now, how this weapon works, and would like to see what one of these may do when fitted with a metal 'bow' part of folded steel, as Teja makes it. But he will not improve the murderer's weapon for him, but will return it as confiscated, upon his release. Studying the weapon, Teja is trying to understand what man it may be that would work with one such. High-handedly, most Ostrogoths would have pronounced it a coward's weapon, to carry hidden and shoot from far away; but Urquhart is no coward. His purpose, which this weapon serves, is utterly different from any Teja has known for himself: - that is all!
Two chairs further on, there is a sleeping swan-king, rolled up in his chair, empty can of Red Bull on the floor. Not even that could keep Donovan awake. He's just knackered; his life is terribly busy, and often terribly exhausting and frustrating. No roots, no home, no girlfriend, no steady job other than doing his duty on the behalf of every feather-brained swanmane in the whole damn country. He was very happy to finally find the bar again, and is currently celebrating it by conking out.
Sirona is sitting by the bar, experimenting on -- something. She puts little silver things on the polished surface, watches them vanish, and then asks for something else, which is invariably green and rectangular. Her little Sony Vaio laptop is open on the bar beside her, and she takes notes on something that almost but not quite looks like Excel -- the spreadsheet program in OpenOffice.org, of course. Sirona has finally found a use for the long-forgotten votive tablets people used to give her when she still had followers, almost two millennia away, and is converting them into computer parts, noting with fascination what the bar will exchange any given part into. For some reason, the leg tablets always turn into graphic cards.
Urquhart isn't there. He's in the cells, getting antsy now.
[[OOC: Say in your tag who your pup wants to talk to! Urquhart can be visited in the cells when you follow the link.]]
Teja is sitting by the fireplace, turning a small, nasty crossbow in his hands. This is not the weapon that killed him; Teja has a good idea as to what happened with that one. Between a Bright Shiner, Charter-kindled flames, and a sizeable dead body consumed by them, one small weapon does not stand much of a chance. No, this is the weapon that Urquhart brought upon his second entrance, the same thing over, just as Teja brought the harp and battle axe again, when he returned. He has worked out, by now, how this weapon works, and would like to see what one of these may do when fitted with a metal 'bow' part of folded steel, as Teja makes it. But he will not improve the murderer's weapon for him, but will return it as confiscated, upon his release. Studying the weapon, Teja is trying to understand what man it may be that would work with one such. High-handedly, most Ostrogoths would have pronounced it a coward's weapon, to carry hidden and shoot from far away; but Urquhart is no coward. His purpose, which this weapon serves, is utterly different from any Teja has known for himself: - that is all!
Two chairs further on, there is a sleeping swan-king, rolled up in his chair, empty can of Red Bull on the floor. Not even that could keep Donovan awake. He's just knackered; his life is terribly busy, and often terribly exhausting and frustrating. No roots, no home, no girlfriend, no steady job other than doing his duty on the behalf of every feather-brained swanmane in the whole damn country. He was very happy to finally find the bar again, and is currently celebrating it by conking out.
Sirona is sitting by the bar, experimenting on -- something. She puts little silver things on the polished surface, watches them vanish, and then asks for something else, which is invariably green and rectangular. Her little Sony Vaio laptop is open on the bar beside her, and she takes notes on something that almost but not quite looks like Excel -- the spreadsheet program in OpenOffice.org, of course. Sirona has finally found a use for the long-forgotten votive tablets people used to give her when she still had followers, almost two millennia away, and is converting them into computer parts, noting with fascination what the bar will exchange any given part into. For some reason, the leg tablets always turn into graphic cards.
Urquhart isn't there. He's in the cells, getting antsy now.
[[OOC: Say in your tag who your pup wants to talk to! Urquhart can be visited in the cells when you follow the link.]]