Typerhappy: Some nights were made for...
fandom: Baldur's Gate 2
own characters: Kel'Tar the Charname (chaotic evil, cleric of Talos), Stanley (lawful neutral, barkeep)
Bioware characters: Edwin, Haer'Dalis, Viconia and Korgan Bloodaxe (even if in passing only)
Warnings: Edwin, his foul mouth and his overusage of brackets in dialogues.
A/N: A storm of the century, one keg of mead too much and weird priestly rituals. Don't ask questions you don't want answered. This drabble hijacked my brain out of the blue and that's my only excuse.
Some nights, Stanley thought, were made to be spent in front of a fireplace with a healthy dose of ale or mead. This night was one of such nights, and Stanley’s inn, for Stanley was a barkeep, was delectably full of locals who shared Stanley’s point of view, and most importantly they shared their coin with Stanley.
“Oh, come on, Edwin. It will be fun, I promise!” A high-pitched girl’s voice insisted from a corner, quite loudly, and Stanley sighed. Adventurers. Pretending to be cleaning empty kegs, he stole a glance towards the company that occupied a table at the far end of the inn.
It was a party of five, consisting of a dwarf (who was drunk out of commission by now, which suited Stanley just fine), a pair of men and two women, one of which was tugging at her red-clad companion’s sleeve and trying to pull him away from his cup of ale with little success.
“No, Kel’Tar. For the last time, (gods grant me patience) I will not go out in this weather. Why do you not sit down with the rest of us and have something to drink?” The man said irritably with a heavy Thavian accent.
Stanley found himself silently agreeing with him. The tall, full-breasted girl wearing a robe that was decidedly too tight for decency, should sit down, have something to drink and stop shouting, priestess of Talos or no.
Sadly, it just wasn’t Stanley’s day, it seemed.
“Because, mister pissy mage sir,” Kel’Tar explained, still obnoxiously cheerful. “At nights such as this it is simply unthinkable to hole oneself away and just- ignore such magnificence!” She exclaimed, gesturing towards the windows as a lightning split the sky in half, and was almost immediately followed by a deafening thunder. “Something devastatingly wonderful must be happening for the Lord of Storms to be so pleased!”
The man, Edwin, sighed with almost theatrical exasperation. “No.”
“Why not?” She whined, tugging at the man’s robes again, much to the amusement of her other male companion, a sand-skinned bard with elvish features, who stopped tuning his lyre to observe the banter.
“Because, my sweet little maniacal priestess,” the wizard freed his sleeve with meticulous care. “One, we are both considerably drunk (you perhaps more than I) and two, it is raining buckets outside. It may come as a surprise to you, but getting drenched to the bone and dying of cold just because of some pretty display of natural forces is nowhere near my preferred method of departing from this world, thank you very much.”
“Spoilsport.” The girl pouted, crossing her arms over the full chest in a childish gesture. “Be it your way. I will go alone, and dance for the Stormlord under the open skies all by myself, and seduce random strangers to have wild, unrestrained sex with them afterwards.” She announced, voice loud and clear, and Edwin, along with half of the inn, choked on his drink.
“What?!” He squeaked, but the priestess was already out of the door, a loud thunder accompanying her departure.
“It is true, what she said.” The other woman, whose face was still hidden underneath her heavy cape, and who didn’t seem to follow the conversation up until now, said calmly, her velvet voice slurred with an accent that Stanley failed to place. “It is a ritual of worshipping common to the priests of Talos.”
“Our beautiful blackbird is correct, my friend.” The elvish bard agreed jauntily. “Those following the Lord of Storms are renowned for their knowledge of carnal pleasures and sexual prowess, actually.” He added, long fingers running over his lyre’s strings absently as he watched the wizard’s face that matched his robes in colour. “In fact, I think I will go now, and join our fearless little raven, to... check whether the tales are true.”
He started to raise, but was stopped by Edwin’s hand grabbing his shoulder. The Thavian gave him a murderous glare.
“Don’t you dare. I-... I will go and... bring her back myself. It is foolishness. She will catch her death like this.”
own characters: Kel'Tar the Charname (chaotic evil, cleric of Talos), Stanley (lawful neutral, barkeep)
Bioware characters: Edwin, Haer'Dalis, Viconia and Korgan Bloodaxe (even if in passing only)
Warnings: Edwin, his foul mouth and his overusage of brackets in dialogues.
A/N: A storm of the century, one keg of mead too much and weird priestly rituals. Don't ask questions you don't want answered. This drabble hijacked my brain out of the blue and that's my only excuse.
Some nights, Stanley thought, were made to be spent in front of a fireplace with a healthy dose of ale or mead. This night was one of such nights, and Stanley’s inn, for Stanley was a barkeep, was delectably full of locals who shared Stanley’s point of view, and most importantly they shared their coin with Stanley.
“Oh, come on, Edwin. It will be fun, I promise!” A high-pitched girl’s voice insisted from a corner, quite loudly, and Stanley sighed. Adventurers. Pretending to be cleaning empty kegs, he stole a glance towards the company that occupied a table at the far end of the inn.
It was a party of five, consisting of a dwarf (who was drunk out of commission by now, which suited Stanley just fine), a pair of men and two women, one of which was tugging at her red-clad companion’s sleeve and trying to pull him away from his cup of ale with little success.
“No, Kel’Tar. For the last time, (gods grant me patience) I will not go out in this weather. Why do you not sit down with the rest of us and have something to drink?” The man said irritably with a heavy Thavian accent.
Stanley found himself silently agreeing with him. The tall, full-breasted girl wearing a robe that was decidedly too tight for decency, should sit down, have something to drink and stop shouting, priestess of Talos or no.
Sadly, it just wasn’t Stanley’s day, it seemed.
“Because, mister pissy mage sir,” Kel’Tar explained, still obnoxiously cheerful. “At nights such as this it is simply unthinkable to hole oneself away and just- ignore such magnificence!” She exclaimed, gesturing towards the windows as a lightning split the sky in half, and was almost immediately followed by a deafening thunder. “Something devastatingly wonderful must be happening for the Lord of Storms to be so pleased!”
The man, Edwin, sighed with almost theatrical exasperation. “No.”
“Why not?” She whined, tugging at the man’s robes again, much to the amusement of her other male companion, a sand-skinned bard with elvish features, who stopped tuning his lyre to observe the banter.
“Because, my sweet little maniacal priestess,” the wizard freed his sleeve with meticulous care. “One, we are both considerably drunk (you perhaps more than I) and two, it is raining buckets outside. It may come as a surprise to you, but getting drenched to the bone and dying of cold just because of some pretty display of natural forces is nowhere near my preferred method of departing from this world, thank you very much.”
“Spoilsport.” The girl pouted, crossing her arms over the full chest in a childish gesture. “Be it your way. I will go alone, and dance for the Stormlord under the open skies all by myself, and seduce random strangers to have wild, unrestrained sex with them afterwards.” She announced, voice loud and clear, and Edwin, along with half of the inn, choked on his drink.
“What?!” He squeaked, but the priestess was already out of the door, a loud thunder accompanying her departure.
“It is true, what she said.” The other woman, whose face was still hidden underneath her heavy cape, and who didn’t seem to follow the conversation up until now, said calmly, her velvet voice slurred with an accent that Stanley failed to place. “It is a ritual of worshipping common to the priests of Talos.”
“Our beautiful blackbird is correct, my friend.” The elvish bard agreed jauntily. “Those following the Lord of Storms are renowned for their knowledge of carnal pleasures and sexual prowess, actually.” He added, long fingers running over his lyre’s strings absently as he watched the wizard’s face that matched his robes in colour. “In fact, I think I will go now, and join our fearless little raven, to... check whether the tales are true.”
He started to raise, but was stopped by Edwin’s hand grabbing his shoulder. The Thavian gave him a murderous glare.
“Don’t you dare. I-... I will go and... bring her back myself. It is foolishness. She will catch her death like this.”