(1874-06-02) Drinking and Betting
Drinking and Betting
Summary: This is what happens when men and women gather to drink but … children are present, alas. Things don't get nearly rowdy enough, but some bets are made and coins won.
Date: 2018/06/02
Related: None
NPCs: {$npc}
Players:
Ludovic  Hraelfmir  Bertram  Imogen  Susanna  

Four Corners - The Perky Porpoise Inn
Sailors from all around the known world cram into the chairs and tables of Four Corners' most famous dock-side establishment, fighting for elbow-room with adventurous locals and merchant's men. Its possible to hear gossip from the most unlikely of places while enjoying the cheap, entirely palatable seaside fare… though picking one voice out from the many is sometimes difficult in the incredible din created by all the laughter, shouting, cheering, talking, even fighting. It is a sprawling place, with several rooms to let and a huge public room that spills through double doors and into the street with wooden tables and chairs tended by attractive servers with platters of cups and plates. It is open at all hours, lit during the day by open-slatted windows and by night by tin-and-glass lamps cut with silhouettes of mermaids. The walls are whitewashed and a small stage is stuck in one corner for musical performances. Every form of entertainment can be had here, and the city guard is rarely seen.
Saturday the 02nd of Juin, 1874 IE

The Senate is meeting tomorrow and people are gathering from far and wide to come for the session. Hraelfmir had hoped to set sail and slip away to patrol up the coast rather than get stuck here and deal with crowds and politics. Alas for him, a storm blew in last night and held them over from departing the port city and now he's received messages that others desire to meet with him on various business. Arg, pinned down another day or two ere he can escape. It's just as well that a certain Viscount had challenged him to drinking and possible brawling to pass the time stuck in port. What else is a sailor to do?

His crews on liberty rotation, the Commodore sits alone in the Perky Porpoise nursing a pitcher of ale and smoking his pipe. All around him the evening activity is starting to make things busier. Smells of good food cooking and being served by the wait staff greets those who enter. Lamps glitter with light and a bard causually walks the floor strumming a lute and singing popular ballads for coin. Tonight, the Privateer is dressed in his usual daily wear. No fancy clothes if he's going to get into mischief.

Ludovic is not wearing anything fancy either. Just the same variety hardy coat and trousers that he'd wear with his half-plate. "So how are we starting this then?" He asks Hraelfmir at a volume several stages louder than actually required. "Arm wresslin? Wresslin?" He grins at Hraelfmir and then winks at Imogen. "Or drinking? Always makes the punches sting less."

Hraelfmir eyes Ludovic as the other man arrives and gently kicks out a chair with a booted foot by way of invitation to have a seat. "I be started on th' drink'n part. We can do anything ye like as long as we do nae be knock'n me teeth out. Hard tae smile all charmin'ly when ye have gaps in ye teeth." He holds his pipe in his left hand and has set his tankard of ale down, "Arm wrestl'n be fine tae start. Ye a bett'n man, Viscount?"

"Never knocked a man's teeth out on purpose." Ludovic holds his hands out in a way that declares innocence. The whole gesture and expression is ruined a moment later when he grins that grin and adds. "Sure have knocked a lot out tho." his hand moves to gently pat the top of his warhammer. "Something of a special talent ya might say."

He grabs himself a chair and settles down into it, raising his voice to call "ALE!" Then he smirks at Hraelfmir. "Am I a betting man? Am I? HAH! You bet I am!" He waves for Imogen to join them. "Don't just stand there girl." And then finally he says, again at a volume way higher than strictly necessary "Who else reckons they can beat the Commodore?"

A handful of men wearing black jerkins with d'Armaz coats of arms sewn into their breasts walk into the Porpoise tavern. They are a rough looking lot with only a few purposes in their eyes - drink, food and probabl women. One of them, a short, stocky fellow with a knight's belt and short sword on it, seems to be leading the bunch.

The Privateer drinks some of his ale. Hraelfmir finishes his pipe and taps out the ashes before he carefully wraps it in it's soft leather and lays it aside on the table. Safer there probably than in his pocket should things get rough. "Ha! Ye nae go'n tae get away with that, ye rascal." He then raises his light baritone to carry around the busy inn, "Who reckons they can beat th' Viscount in various friendly challenges /and/ maybe earn ye a few coins while bet'n on it?!" Aye, let's turn up the heat under Dovi's seat as well, why don't we? The Archduchess's Consort smirks with a gleam in his dark eyes as he waits to see if there are any takers!

Imogen makes her way into the tavern, seeming a bit lost and out of it, like she came here simply by choice, but her eyes are quick to pick out a familliar face and side to cling to, hearing him shout fore ale she's quick to grab some nearby, might as well since she's up, and makes her way over to dovi's table. "You called?" she teases good naturedly as she sets the ale down in front of him.

Among the crowd an arm shoots up. A skinny, short one. On closer inspection, it belongs to eleven-year-old Violet Blue, all gap-toothed smile and comically long braids. A number of people in the crowd take turns exchanging glances and surprised laughs.

Ludovic can't help but give a good humoured laugh at Violet. "Come along then lass." He says, waving the girl towards the table. "You want to try me, my consort or the commodore here first?" A finger is jabbed in Bertram's direction. "You. Bertram right?" He pauses just long enough to quaff some of the ale. "Bet you can't beat my Imogen."

The d'Armaz lads are into their cups almost immediately, and are also well amused by the eleven year old's hand shooting up. The knight among them, Sir Bertram, laughs out loud. "Let's go, y'Excellency! Not going to let yourself get done under by a child eh?" He snorts, but looks over to Imogen with an appraising rather than dismissive eye. "Well. Depends in what, eh?" Rising with a grunt (he's getting old after all), the d'Armaz knight steps over to their table.

Imogen is a bit confused as to just what she's walked into, but just rolls with it as she nudges at dovi to make room for her at the table. "What're you renting me out for now dovi?" she asks with a long-suffering sigh only a life-companion can truly give.

To Ludovic, Hraelfmir adds low, "Nae love taps from ye weapons tae me head, if'n ye please. I might take offence 'n have tae shoots ye. Me thinks tha' would annoy both a Countess Admiral 'n an Archduchess." Eh, yeah. Then his dark eyes slip over the crowd to check on volunteers and he quirks a brow at young Violet. The Commodore lifts his ale tankdard to her, "I appreciate ye spirit but this nae be a game for children, lass." Wait, Dovi invites her over to join them?? He eyes the Viscount, clearly not thinking that's the best idea in the world. "Things could get rough wit' men 'n women drink'n. Ye think that wise?"

Bertram catches Hraelfmir's eye. The Privateer eyes the knight, studying him. Now where has Hraelfmir seen Bertram before?

"Ah, na fer me, sir!" Violet says as she comes up to their table, digging in the pockets of her apron and bringing out fifteen whole copper stars. "I'm bettin' on ma sister! I reckon I got a bitta growin' ta do. Gimme a mo'—SUSANNAAAA!" Violet drops her money spinning on the table and runs upstairs.

"Trusting you to defend d'Korbina's honor." Ludovic tells Imogen as he reaches to quaff some more drink. The mug gets slammed down onto the tabletop with a satisfied ah and then he follows it up by planting his elbow and waving Violet over. "En garde my dear." He tells the lass. Looking very amused. He laughs at Hraelfmir's request "Now Hraelfmir why should I ever pull a weapon on ya? We're friends, no?" Theres a shrug to the question. "I'm sure her guardian will take her away. Might as well humour her whilst we're mostly sober. 'Sides the lass wants to be a knight." He just ups his brows as the kid runs off. "Guess that solves that then. MORE ALE!"

"I don't even know what we're talking about here." Bertram admits, his voice a bit whiny. "Am I aiming to show you how to undermine a castle, like ye'd wanted me to do, m'lord, in Hellsmouth?" He is genuinely confused. He helps himself to some of Hraelfmir's ale.

When dovi fails to move like she nudges him to, Imogen casts aside propriety, and like is done so often, settles herself onto his lap, stealing a sip from his drink to boot! "I clearly have missed alot, what exactly are you boys up to?" she asks with a glance to the men around.

There, wee Violet has suddenly run away upstairs and hollering her older sister's name. Hraelfmir watches her go and the next thing he knows, Bertram is helping himself to the pitcher of the Commodore's ale. Hraelf eyes the knight steadily, "I did nae invite ye tae be drink'n my ale, Sir. Order yer own." His tone is suddenly more serious, not about to be pushed around by a near stranger. Dovi's man or no. A polite nod is offered to Imogen, "Good tae see ye, Lady. Ye seem tae be in better spirits now than when last we met." While he awaits whatever Bertram's response might be, the Commodore unfastens his right sleeve cuff and rolls it up, "I'll arm wrestle ye, Dovi." He also catches the eye of a serving girl and motions for a bottle. Regular as he is in here she'll know what he's ordered and it's not ale.

Violet is soon back downstairs dragging Susanna behind her, who looks confused and like her mind is very much in a different place right now. Once in front of thr table, the sight of Ludovic, Hraelfmir, and the coins on the table causes her to put two and two together.

"Wha'm I gonna to wi' ya, Vi? An' how'd ya get all tha' coin?"

"Went an' found pennies inna street," Violet says. "Tole ya this place was paved in gold."

"Aye, an' wha' challenge didya set me up fer, again?"

Ludovic looks up at Imogen as she settles onto his lap. Theres a chuckle from him and he reaches around her for his drink. "Drinking." he explains to both Bertram and Imogen together. "Gambling. Arm Wrestling. Drinking. Women. Drinking. Brawling. Drinking. Gamblin'" He casts a wide grin first from one to the other. "Mebbee not in that order." He gives Bertram a smirk of a grin. "Reckon you can beat us huh?" He leans around Imogen, wrapping an arm around her to ensure she doesnt fall, to plant his elbow on the table. She's in his way, enough that its likely to put him at a disadvantage, but he doesnt seem to care if she stays. "What you wanna bet? A crown" He tilts his head to smirk at Susanna. "Depends who wins. Me or Hraelfmir." He grins to Hraelfmir. "Gonna be Me."

Imogen is quick to notice, for once, that she's in the way and scoots herself away so that he has a more level chance at winning, they can cuddle later anyways, and she's too amused by the antics to get in the way, perching her chin on her hand as she watches bemusedly.

"I did order my own. The Count invited me over. So I drank the ale on the table. If you didn't like it, I'll buy you some after. When you make games at your table, your ale becomes commons." Bertram flashes a half friendly, half feral grin at Hraelf. "But I don't have a quarrel with you, so if your panties get in a bunch, I'll make sure to slap a few stars on the table." He rolls his eyes, though, then nods at Ludo. "I reckon I can do a crown."

The serving girl comes back to the table with a bottle of Galenthian smokey whiskey, which she sets by Hraelfmir's arm along with a small half glass. He nods to her and pays her some silver for it. A nod to Ludovic, "Aye, see ye your crown, Dovi." The new bottle is opened and a little of the whiskey poured into his half glass, then restoppered. Hraelfmir looks to Bertram, "I lived in Four Corners all me life 'n never a man assumed tae join me at table 'n grab my drink without my invite'n him tae do so first. Mind ye manners 'n be respectful, lest ye be disinvited. Do nae care about th' coin." Hrealfmir makes a point to look to Ludovic, "Ye 'n Imogen both be welcome tae some o' me whiskey." That invitation isn't extended to anyone else at the table. He puts his right hand out, elbow on the table, for Ludovic to take. The Commodore is ready.

Violet blinks at Ludovic and down at her little copper stars when he talks about betting whole crowns.

"Beggin' ya pardon, Yer Excellency," Susanna says meanwhile, "bu' I do na wanna teach Vi ta gamble reckl—"

"I ain't bettin' reckless, I'm bettin' on you!" Violet says, hands on hips, and looks the 250 pound Ludovic up and down. "Yer can take 'im!"

Aw. Well, that's just. Too sweet for Susanna to ignore. She rolls her eyes in an attempt to suppress a smile and kisses Violet on the head. "Arright, arright, then. S'pose I'll wait in line." Violet cheers.

+froll/basic: Ludovic rolled 4 FATE dice plus 3, getting 0 -1 1 0 plus 3 for a total of 3!

Imogen is quick to look forlornly at the whiskey, but she's four months pregnant, so only sips of weak ale for her, she's gotta be responsible. "A kind offer, alas i'm pregnant," she states bluntly with a smile, doing her best to ignore the commodores argument with his companion.

+froll/basic: Hraelfmir rolled 4 FATE dice plus 2, getting 0 0 -1 0 plus 2 for a total of 1!

Bertram frowns mildly when it becomes clear that Hraelfmir is a good deal more protective of his ale than he might be in a similar situation. "Right then, sorry mate, not trying to get into your business. Here." He raises a hand, flagging a server down to get another pitcher of ale, paying her beforehand to ensure that it's smoothly delivered.

Ludovic takes Hraelfmir's hands and proceeds to steadily force it inch by inch onto the tabletop. "First win to me!" He crows. "You then." He points at Susanna. "Drop in a crown. Winner gets the pot. I'll beat everyone here!"

Hraelfmir gives Bertram a nod, "Apology accepted. Ye display ye knightly grace 'n /now/ ye be welcome tae both me whiskey 'n the ale - as soon as ye tell me ye name. I know I have seen ye afore but we were nae introduced. I be Commodore Hraelfmir Halfborn, Aequor 'n Four Corner's Privateer." His right arm is accepted and then his attention has to be focused upon the arm wrestling with Dovi. Watch your drinks! Muscle bounches up on his arm but he's leaner and less solidly built than the Hellsmouth Viscount Knight. Hraelfmir bares his teeth but though he manages to slow Dovi from a quick and instant victory, it is soon over! "Hah, figured ye would beat me. Clearly ye hav'nae drunk enough, me friend!" A golden crown is dug out of his belt purse and slid over the table to pay his loss in good humor.

A smile is then offered to Susanna, "Good eve'n. Ye be up next, lass." Hraelf tastes his whiskey and adds, "If'n she can nae afford a crown, I'll cover her difference - this round." He looks then to Imogen, "So I heard. Congratulations be in order, me lady. I be hope'n ye have an easy 'n healthy delivery."

"First time I've been accused of having knightly grace." Bertram grumbles, though it is good natured. "Sir Bertram of Harcourt, a pleasure. I think we met in sight of that damned fool Emperor's spawn a few months back, in the east? I've punched a lot of faces in, but his was ripe for it if he wasn't so damned high born." He doesn't contribute to any other conversation.

Susanna immediately looks rueful and a little embarrassed, as well as stuck. Surprise surprise, she's a peasant and she doesn't have a crown, and she couldn't bear the humiliation of letting someone else pay for her own bet. Though it is nice of Hraelfmir.

Then, an idea! She smirks to herself, whispers something in Violet's ear, and takes a step outside. She's only gone a few seconds before she comes back in holding a brown-eyed susan, which she drops on the table with the rest of the pot.

"One beautiful golden crown 'round that flower's head, canna find none more lovely in all th' land. A Susan's crown." They aren't call brown-eyed Susannas, but it's close enough. Violet is laughing as Susanna takes a seat, scooting her stars into the pot with them. "An' all the jewels ta go with it." She plants her elbow on the table and looks stalwartly at Ludovic before breaking into a smile that transforms her.

Hraelfmir smirks at Bertram over his own drink as he watches the other two set up to have a go - little bitty Susan against big hulking Ludovic. "There be a first time for everth'n. Aye, me thinks ye be right about where 'n when." Then Susanna displays quick thinking and the Privateer laughs, "Ye be witty, lass." A rudbeckia flower! Speaking of jewels, it may be that Hraelfmir's dark eyes slip over her since she had mentioned Courtesan training.

+froll/basic: Ludovic rolled 4 FATE dice plus 3, getting -1 0 1 -1 plus 3 for a total of 2!

+froll/basic: Susanna rolled 4 FATE dice plus 3, getting -1 -1 1 1 plus 3 for a total of 3!

Ludovic takes his place with all the usual confidence and bravado he exudes. "Clever." He tells her. "Good thing Hraelfmir's backing it up with gold." He wriggles his fingers and then grabs Susanna's hand. "One. Two." on three he starts pushing and Susanna's hand goes down, down until just before half way. Suddenly from out of nowhere their hands start going the other way. Ludovic's eyes widen, he grits his teeth with a grunt and a good fight later his knuckles finally touch the tabletop. "Damn!" he exclaims, leaning back and rubbing at his poor abused bicep. "They put you in a bucket of milk as a kid?"

Susanna clasps Ludovic's hand firmly and strains with the effort of holding back his massive forearm. But it was a feint! At the last moment, she flashes a grin and pushes back. When his hand hits the table, she laughs in triumph and Violet goes crazy. "Summat like tha," Susanna says lightly, and tousles Violet's head. "Gonna cash in now, I think." This could mean a proper dress for her courtesan training! "An ale fer me an' a weak one fer th' lil' 'un!" she calls out to the server.

Bertram raises his mug of (stolen) ale into the air when Susanna pins Ludovic to the table, crying out in cheer. "Woah! Look at the muscles on her, to beat the Storm Bull!" Truth be told, he'd cheer any common born person besting a noble, unless it was one of HIS nobles. "Grats, lass!" He claps her on the back.

Hraelfmir laughs out loud as Ludovic gets bested, or allows Susanna to best him! He thumps the table, "I bet ye was distracted look'n at her cleavage!" Yes, the Commodore just said that even with Imogen sitting /right/ there! He knocks back his glass of whiskey and fishes out another gold crown and flips it to the Courtesan Wanna-be, "I do nae care ye bet a flower, ye earned it. Have ye made a pretty gown - they be costly, lass." Halfborn is a wealthy man, he can afford to spare a crown now and then. Hraelfmir pours himself another whiskey. He's not slurring any words yet but he has been drinking long before the others arrived and soon may be. "Wha' be next?"

"Cant do that lass." Ludovic reaches for his ale first and then his consort second, tugging her back onto his lap. "Gotta beat everyone before you get the pot and I reckon he's next" He points across at Bertram, flashing him a grin. "She's a sneaky one. Careful now!" As Hraelfmir jokes about the cleavage he gives Susanna's assets an obvious, but sideways glance, grinning to himself as he does so. "I'd never." Its one of the most obvious lies ever told.

"Don' need no cleavage when ya got a good arm," Susanna says, rolling back a sleeve to reveal a HUNK of a bicep, flexing impressively. She takes the praise with satisfaction and pockets Hraelfmir's crown with a sweet smile. She bites her lip knowing she can't cash in, but nods—fair's fair. "I'll put this on ma resume, at least," she says, and grins at Bertram before planting her elbow on thr table again. "Ya ready, sir?"

Bertram quaffs the remainder of his drink and sits down at the table, cracking his neck. His eyes set and he nods at Susanna. "Right then. On your mark."

+froll/basic: Bertram rolled 4 FATE dice plus 2, getting 1 -1 1 0 plus 2 for a total of 3!

+froll/basic: Susanna rolled 4 FATE dice plus 3, getting -1 1 -1 0 plus 3 for a total of 2!

Susanna shakes out her hand, takes Bertram's hand, and unfortunately it looks like she might have worn herself out early. Besides that, she's preeeetty nervous about losing so much money. He wins after a long struggle, and she can't hide her disappointment.

"Susanna, why'd ya let him win?" Violet asks, almost as unhappy. Susanna shakes her head at her little sister and stands up from the table. "Gotta keep 'em guessin', Vi."

Bertram's veins bulge out from arm, neck and forehead as he puts his full effort into trying to pin the woman he'd just complimented. He is as surprised as any that he emerges the winner, rising from his seat and raising a cheer that is quickly echoed by the d'Armaz retainers he'd entered with. "Well fought, lass, well fought!" He leans in and whispers something to her.

Ludovic thumps the table as he goes "HAH! Good show! Good show! Guess you'll be buying the beer now huh?" He winks at Susanna and then leans back to empty his tankard. "This was a good idea Hraelfmir. A damn good idea."

Susanna has to grin at Bertram's kindness, and when he whispers in her ear, she whispers back.

"Wha'd he say, Sue? Susanna?! Wha'd he say?"

Susanna laughs and bops Violet's nose. "Don' be so nosy, Vi!" She doesn't seem to appreciate Ludovic's glee at her loss, but she gives him a gracious nod when he winks at her.

Hraelfmir watches and then looks not surprised, but maybe disappointed that Susanna's charms didn't distract Bertram. "Ah well, aye, well fought, lass! Congratulations tae ye, Sir Bertram." Noble victory 'n all that. A huffed breath at Ludovic, "But wha' next? Anyone of ye have suggestions? We nae be drunk enough for brawl'n yet. More drinks!" He picks up the whiskey bottle and starts topping up glasses - those with Ale cups may want to snatch them up fast else you are about to get a mixed drink! "Or I can invite ye all tae one o' me ships for skinny dip'n an' walk'n the ropes!"

"Drinks! On me! Haha!" Bertram raises his newfound winnings in full sight of the tavern and staff, intending to spend an inordinate amount of crowns on the purchasing of alcohol for all. Meanwhile, he slips a pair of crowns surreptitiously into Suasanna's hand, hoping that it is not seen by anyone else. "Walk the ropes? What's that?"

"That!" Ludovic starts to say only to be distracted by a tug from Imogen. He looks down at her, listens to something whispered for a bit and then just shrugs before looking back at them. "Seems i'm being called away. You're just gonna have to live without me for a while. Difficult I know."

"If'n it be us sailor folk, we string a rope out o' the water along side th' ship or between ships. Then ye have tae walk it. If'n ye get across, ye chug down a big drink 'n wait ye turn for th' next round. If'n ye fall intae th' water, ye be out. I put up th' pot bu' ye kin chip in." Hraelfmir explains, then eyes them all, "That ye be land lubbers, we could make it a long plank. Drunker ye get th' harder it be tae balance. Nae sharks in th' Four Corners harbour." Most of the time.

Taking up the drink Susanna ordered earlier, she almost snorts it back up when Hraelfmir suggests skinny dipping. "I wonder if tha's a thing ya gotta learn at courtesan trainin'," she jokes, rolling her eyes.

"Wha's skinny dippin'?" Violet asks.

Susanna kisses the precious girl's ear. "Ya get in the water naked. It's miserable an' dangerous. Sounds like a knightly thing ta do, eh?"

Violet wrinkles her nose.

Before Ludovic leaves, Susanna sends him a curtsy. "Well met, Yer Excellency. Have a good evenin'. An' a pleasure ta meet yer lady, too."

"My home's in the tunnels, but I ken tight walking." Says Bertram, cheerfully.

Hraelfmir acts offended at what Susanna says, "Tis nae miserable 'n dangerous! Nae more than bath'n. If'n I choose safe waters, that is, 'n if'n ye kin swim." Harder if you can't swim, aye. An upnod to Ludovic, "Coward." He grins and gives his friend a wink, "Bail'n out on us already. Ye get'n weak on me, in ye cups already. Imogen! Take good care o' me friend here 'n see him back safely." All in good fun. Ah well. If none of them will take him up on his invitation to go out to his ships, Hraelfmir will linger to drink his whiskey and refill his pipe.

Ludovic makes a rude gesture for Hraelfmir even as he escorts Imogen out.

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