Thread: The Khazad-dumish Inn.. Please watch your head coming through the door.
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"I am sure that the word is omnipotent." Morohtar replied, running to his room.
OMNIPOTENCE IS ALL-POWERFUL, NOT ALL-KNOWING, said Death as Morohtar ran up the stairs to the left of the bar. THOUGH OMNIPOTENCE WOULD BE NICE. He shook his skull, and with a rattling sigh turned back to Grondmaster. SO HOW MUCH ARE YOU PLANNING ON PAYING THE YOUNG MAN FOR THE REPAIR OF THE INN?
"I will buy some of the finest wood myself. Thranduils people owe me a bunch. I will then pay for the supports and stuff for the extra floor, if wanted." Morohtar explained, walking back down the stairs. He pulled 5 Mithril pieces from his wallet, and slid them down the table.
"I will send for 75 Logs of Wood." Morohtar added, walking out of the inn, heading for the nearest Post Office.
Grondy; Me and Fornac have begun working on a thing which is basically the history of this Inn, which could be useful. Here
The KDI Historians Society sounds good to me, keep it up.
"Morohtar, make that 100 silver pieces, and I have a lazy couple nephews that we can put to carpentering. They will do a good job as long as we keep an eagle eye on them."
"I feel it is time for some fresh baked bread and bean soup," and Grondy headed for the kitchen to rattle some pots and pans."
The Door slammed back open, and Morohtar barged in.
"100 Silver Pieces? Gimme back the Mithrill then." Morohtar asked, picking up the Mithrill before sliding a small bag down the table, towards the kitchen.
"We should have some wood arriving soon." Morohtar explained, throwing his coat onto a table before sliding another slightly larger back down the bar.
COULD I HAVE A PINT OF FINEST’ ALONG WITH THE SOUP AND BREAD? Death called to Grondy in the kitchen. I HAVE NEVER BEEN ABLE TO TRY THE FAMOUS BREW.
He then walked over to Morohtar at the bar, the end of his staff clunking ominously against the stone floor and an aura of biting cold around his presence.
SO WHAT KIND OF WOOD DO YOU PLAN ON USING TO FIX THE RAFTERS? he asked. OAK IS GENERALLY CONSIDERED THE STRONGEST FOR THIS KIND OF THING.
"Mirkwoodian Oak. Thranduils Folk owe my family and my men some of that stuff." Morohtar replied, walking to his room. He returned a moment later, with his staff with the Emerald and Ruby dragon on the hilt.
"My father made this with it. It managed to block a blow from some mountain trolls, so it is pretty strong." Morohtar explained, spinning and whacking it against one of the poles supporting the roof. There was a clang, and the pole was dented.
"See." He finished, twirling it.
"Grondy, I will have some of that Gimli Stuff’." Morohtar asked, flipping a coin into the counter.
"One pint each of Gimli's Finest’ for Master Death and Morohtar, enjoy," says Grondy sliding two pints down the bar before them.
"The soup and bread will be out soon, Master Death. By the way Master Death, what honorific should we be using for you or do you just go by 'Death'? And will you be wanting a mop and bucket to clean-up after your meal, or does your skeletal body have an invisible digestive system on another plane of your existence? I only ask to preclude having a mess on the floor, as my experience with skeleton warriors is they can't hold their liquor."
Morohtar nodded, swirling his staff in boredom.
"Soup's on, bread's warm," said Grondy as he set before Death: a piping hot bowl of bean soup, a cutting board with a steaming loaf of bread, a crock of butter, and a pot of strawberry preserves. "Enjoy!"
"Before I go to check up on my nephews, anyone need a refill?"
I'LL BE FINE, GRONDMASTER. said Death. AND AS TO YOUR QUESTION ABOUT HOLDING MY FOOD, IT CERTAINLY DOESN'T GO TO THE FLOOR. He picked up his spoon, filled it with soup from his bowl and poured it between his open jaws. THOUGH I'VE NEVER BEEN SURE WHERE IT GOES. GOOD SOUP, BY THE WAY.
"Thanks for not having to clean-up after yourself Death, and for the compliment about my soup. Do you have any favorite foods; like one I could call 'Death's Delight'? Did you leave Binky in our stable with any special instructions?"
"Are those timbers here for the roof beams yet Morohtar? How about I ask you to be in charge of the reconstruction. And if you if you hit any snags that you can't work around, like some of our rooms have eleven corners and others thirteen. There is no sense undergoing these difficulties, I'll just use my magic pink umbrella to set them right. So let know when you encounter them."
I WOULD DIE FOR A GOOD CURRY, replied Death. There was a pause. THOUGH PERHAPS THE WORDING OF THAT STATEMENT COULD HAVE BEEN BETTER. OH! BINKY IS FINE. I LEFT HIM IN THE STABLE BESIDE MOROHTAR'S HORSE, WITH A FEW SUGAR CUBES TO KEEP HIM HAPPY.
"Is my cow OK?" Morohtar asked, remembering about the Cow that he brought with him.
"Grondy! Finest Stake!" Morohtar suddenly shouted, worried about the animal.
"Your cow's okay Morohtar, she's out in the stables; the steaks are from the ice room in the Inn's first cellar."
"Curry huh? I'll have to find someone from the sub-continent to teach me how to make a good curry. Then if Master Death really liked it, I could advertise it as 'the curry that even Death would die for'."
OOC: So what is the recipe for a good to excellent curry? The best curry I ever remember having was in a restaurant run by an Indian family in Dunoon, Scotland back in 1977.
THAT WOULD BE MOST AGREEABLE, replied Death, tearing off another hunk of soup-soaked bread with his teeth.
Morohtar nodded, leaning back on his chair. Suddenly, the back leg snapped, and he fell, smashing his head on a table. Morohtar leapt up, looking at what Grondy was doing. He was busy in the Kitchen. Morohtar grinned, before smashing his foot at the chair, and kicking it through a window.
"Chuck Norris did it... he farted." Morohtar muttered, before collapsing from the knock to his head.
Death gave the unconscious Morohtar a brief glance to check if he had to use his scythe for a fourth time that day, then shook his hooded skull and turned back to his soup, bread and ale.
Morohtar winced, climbing up.
"Grondy; what has happened with that windmill?" Morohtar asked, randomly.
Yet again the elf that many surely thought had turned to stone by now stirred with a sigh.
"Many years it may be but still i remember the banner first beign lifted atop Gondolin... Ah her beauty!"
springing from his very own dark corner arath rose to his full height and his voice murmured:
In spring she walked on roads of stone
and her heart was glad because she was home
and far i walked her in the springtime
together we laughed and watched the sun shine
One fair day she walked away
gone atlast my fair flower
now the winds lament her death
and the summers since have lost their joy
as his voice stopped he looked around emberassed and sat back down.
"forgive me I was taken by the wine to a place far away in atleast to me a happier time..." he said and withdrew to the shadows
"Hear ye, hear ye, hear ye here! Grondy declares Morohtar finished with the tilting of chairs and windmills for the day.
Would someone please assist Morohtar up the stairs to his room; and there tie him to his bed. In the morning I'll greet him with an aromatic pot of coffee, a rasher of bacon, a two fried eggs, and a stack of pancakes and then I'll cut him free."
Suddenly, Grondy's personal Elven sniper, Geoff, shot a knock-out arrow into Morohtar, causing him to collapse, before pointing at the inn. 5 Elves ran in, dragging Morohtar into his room and then tying him to his bed.
"What..." Morohtar muttered, watching the Elves smash through the windows and leave.
"Barrowmaaaannnn...." Morohtar mumbled; waving his fist, before slumping.
"Morning Morohtar," said Grondy cutting the bindings loose, "Your breakfast is on the tray. Doesn't that coffee smell good? You got a little tipsy last night and were tilting windmills and chairs, so we had to calm you down to save your skin and our furniture. The sun is out, so this would be a good day to get outside and repair the roof. See you later."
Morohtar slowly climbed out of his bed, and poked his head out of the Window. Grondy was on the roof, like he said. Morohtar pulled on his cloak, and ran downstairs.
"Barkeeper, Gimlis Finest." Morohtar ordered, throwing his cloak onto the table next to the door, before walking outside. There was a ladder next to the door, so he climbed up.
"Grondy, I will help you. What did I do to the windmill!?" Morohtar asked, confused, before he picked up his hammer.
There was a distant sound of howling wind, and suddenly Death dived out of the sky, riding his white steed Binky with blue flames licking around them. They clattered on to the road, and Death rode over to the stables with the reins in one hand and his scythe in the other. He dismounted, then saw Grondy and Morohtar on the roof of the Inn.
BUSY NIGHT, he remarked. HOW ARE YOU TWO DOING UP THERE?
"I am not sure." Morohtar shouted back, hammering a nail into place. Morohtar looked at Death, and realised he needed to feed his cow.
"Back in a minute!" Morohtar announced, before jumping into the chimney.
There was a sudden pop in the main room of the Inn, and Morohtar landed in the fireplace.
"Steak please!" Morohtar shouted, jumping over the bar and into the kitchen. He slid open the oven door and pulled out some Balrog wings, and climbed out the window, before feeding his cow and horse.
"Sorry Grondy, I'll be back in a minute." Morohtar shouted up at him, climbing up the fireplace.
Death watched Morohtar's antics for a while, then spoke to Grondy on the roof.
I'LL TAKE BINKY INTO THE STABLES. CALL ME IF HE DOES ANYTHING STRANGE.
The black-robed skeleton led his white horse into the low wooden stable at the side of the Inn, opening a door next to the Ch’sorian's cow and taking him in. Tying his bridle to a wooden bar nailed to the stable wall, Death fed him a few lumps of sugar taken from within his cloak and stroked his brow.
He shut the stable door, strolled over to the closed front doors of the Inn and walked right through them. Ignoring the scrabbling sounds coming from the fireplace, Death took his customary position standing in the corner and went deep into his thoughts.
After finishing 2 more planks of wood, Morohtar leapt head first into the chimney, and slid down. Moments later, he appeared in the fireplace of the Inn, dangling upside down.
"Who you are you saying is going to do something strange?!" Morohtar shouted at the man in the corner, before dropping into the fire, extinguishing it. He quickly stood up, and looked up the chimney.
"Comin' Grondy!" Morohtar shouted, walking calmly out of the inn before climbing up the drainage pipes to the roof.
"Hey Morohtar, you just swept my chimney without using drop cloths; now you better clean up the soot you have tracked through the Inn and that in the fireplace, please."
Ashwyn appeared coming in through the inn's front door, "Good Morning Everyone! And I'm very pleased to meet you Grondmaster! I've heard many good things about you!" Ashwyn was in a fantastic mood for some reason and with an apologetic dip of her head she addressed Grondmaster again
"I'm terribly sorry that I didn't introduce myself to you yesterday. I, unfortunately, got called away on urgent business and so didn't have time to say hello. My most sincere apologies to you." Ashwyn said giving a polite curtsy. She was then momentarily distracted by Morohtar who, to her surprise, was apparently repairing the damaged parts of the inn.
"Sorry Grondy." Morohtar muttered.
"Will clean the floors, now." He added, before jumping back down the chimney. He fell again, and extinguished the fire again. Morohtar grinned, as he realised the room was covered in ashes.
"I still have some water bombs." Morohtar muttered, throwing a water balloon on the floor. It exploded and cleared the room of ashes, and he pulled on his cloak.
"Sorted Grondy! Coming." Morohtar shouted into the fireplace, before jumping into a cannon and flying onto the roof.
"Do you have a ladder?" Morohtar asked.
The Inn's floor was flooded with a thin layer of water and the air thick with smoke from the cannon.
I'M NOT SURE THAT HE'S GOT THE IDEA OF CLEANING JUST YET, said Death, coughing. AH! WELCOME BACK, ASHWYN. WHAT IMPORTANT BUISNESS WAS IT THAT YOU HAD TO GO ON?
Morohtar heard Death welcome back Ashwyn, so he dived headfirst back down the chimney.
"Welcome back Ashwyn!" Morohtar shouted, before landing headfirst on the fire.
"Ya need a ladder!" Morohtar shouted up the chimney, before climbing a tree and landing back on the roof.
Eva, hearing both Morohtar's racket and Death's comment about cleaning, came back out from the kitchen. She blinked at the mess on the floor and sighed. "Indeed he doesn't... I'm not sure he's capable of it." She glanced over at the mop. "That poor mop has seen a lot of use lately..."
As the roof was finally finished, Morohtar leapt back down the chimney, and dangled at the bottom for a bit. The bottom of the inn was a few inches of water, and if he fell, he would be soaked.
"Eva or Death, use the mop!" Morohtar shouted, trying not to fall.
Grondy, thought to himself as he looked over the mess, I wish we were back in the days when the pixie Cloveress was the Inn's practical joker. At least she was never destructive with her antics.
He hauled out a couple buckets and mops and said, "Okay boys, lets get to work, Eva didn't make this mess and she shouldn't have to be the one to clean it up."
Eva hurried and grabbed one of the mops. "I don't mind cleaning it, Grondy, truly- I was just waiting for Morohtar to fall into it first. I don't intend to mop it up just so he doesn't have to land in the mess he made himself."
"Stop bickering. And don't put the fire back on!" Morohtar shouted, dangling over the logs in the fireplace.
IT WAS CONVERSATION, NOT BICKERING, MOROHTAR SURIVAN, SON OF ERUHERAN SURIVAN, KING OF CH’SOR, said Death, in his slow, deep tones. AND I SHALL SAY IT FOR EVERYONE HERE - YOU MADE THIS MESS, SO CLEAN IT UP. EVEN YOUR ROYAL STATUS DOESN'T CHANGE THAT.
"And I can... Fine!" Morohtar shouted, dropping into the pool of water and logs below him.
"Mop." Morohtar ordered, sliding across the floor to pick up the mop. He threw his coat onto his table (which had remained dry) and began to clean the floor.
"Blimmin' Horsemen of the blimmin' apocalypse." Morohtar grumbled, sliding along the floor again, out of boredom.
Eva grinned. "Thank you, Master Death. It doesn't quite behoove staff to be so blunt." She blinked, and then looked over to Grondy. "I know I'm not technically staff anymore, but I've been working in the kitchen to cover my stay... I hope that's all right. I think Gimli collected pay from those who left while you were in the cellars..."
"What about Ar-Edain? He almost killed my father, then disappeared. No money collected. And Gimli hasn't been around for a while" Morohtar grumbled, collapsing into a small puddle.
HOWEVER, I DID
KILL YOUR FATHER - OR AT LEAST HE KILLED HIMSELF DUE TO ME, said Death to Morohtar's first words. NOW GET UP, STOP TALKING, AND KEEP MOPPING.
OOC: Death's speaking, not me! No hard feelings.
"My name is Morohtar Surivan. You killed my father. Prepare to die." Morohtar muttered, finding the perfect excuse to say that. Morohtar grinned, and began to wave the mop around threateningly, before slipping and knocking his head on the bar.
"I said prepare... I didn't mean that I would do it instantly..." Morohtar grumbled, falling unconscious.
HIS FAMILY DO SEEM TO HAVE A FAIRLY IMPULSIVE TENDENCY, said Death to Eva, regarding the unconscious and soaked Ch’sorian with mild interest. AND HE HASN’T FINISHED THE MOPPING YET, EITHER.
Eva sighed. "Somehow, it doesn't surprise me that his first actual attempt at cleaning ends with him unconscious." She picked up the mop. "I'll take care of the rest of this, if someone will take him upstairs?"
I'LL TAKE HIM, said Death, pointing a bony finger at Morohtar. The Ch’sorian lifted up into the air, his arms dropping and his head flopping back. Water from his hair and clothes dripped onto the floor. Death moved the finger slightly, and Morohtar moved across the room by a few feet.
EVERYTHING SEEMS TO BE WORKING, said Death in approval, walking over to the stairs with Morohtar hovering along behind him. He quickly stepped up them, arriving at the first floor of the Inn, where he walked along a short corridor until he reached a door with 'Morohtar Surivan' written on a scrap of parchment nailed to it. The lock clicked open at his silent command, and the door swung open. Morohtar glided gracefully inside, where he settled on his bed with barely a sound.
THAT'S GOING TO HURT WHEN HE WAKES UP, said Death to himself, eying Morohtar's head, before disappearing and reappearing in the bar below.
ALL DONE, he said to Eva, pouring himself a mug of ale.
Ashwyn sighed and shook her head. "I can help if you would like." Ashwyn surveyed the room again, "It certainly looks like you could use a hand. I honestly don't understand how Morohtar can create such messes!"
"That would be lovely, Ashwyn," Eva answered as she began to attack the mixture of soot and water. "He certainly does seem to have a knack for it, even when he's not trying to be destructive..."
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Death drank some of his ale, then set it back down on the bar.
DID GRONDMASTER AND MOROHTAR FINISH FIXING THE ROOF? he asked. GROND HASN'T EVEN COME DOWN FROM THERE YET.