Prancing Pony - Downstairs
Hallway
Brown and green mottled carpet stretches along the entire length of this narrow hallway: from the arch leading to the foyer in the southeast corner, to the door leading into the parlour, and on down to the end of the hall where two hobbit holes stand. Just beyond the second hobbit hole, the tall white walls turn east down another passageway. Midway down the eastern passageway stands a tall wooden staircase that leads up to the second level of the inn, and beyond the staircase the walls turn yet again to wind down the southern wing, with the innkeeper's room lying at the far end.
Moving rather fast for her age and condition, Esmie Overhill bolts down the hallway. She's not carrying her trademark glass of brandy, and she looks far from being inebriated. In fact, she looks rather sober and chipper. Peculiar things have happened at the Prancing Pony, this is no secret. However, the fact that Esmie Overhill, the infamous widow and drunkard, is at the Prancying Pony and showing no signs of inebriation; why, it's startling! Her little bony hands claw at the shawl around her shoulders, and wide eyed, she gasps at Gerthan. "Bushroot?" she nearly spits. "Er... I don't know where he is. Nor do I care! That little maggot!" Esmie's eyes narrow, and she looks to the left, and then to the right. "Is he gone?" she asks in a manic whisper.
Shaking his head negative, Gerthan says, "I do not know. It would not surprise me. I heard from Daisy Overhill that he was saying all sorts of nasty things about me here in the Pony, so I came looking to straighten him out. I'm sure he's here somewhere, probably hiding in one of these rooms." He runs up to a couple of doors and pokes his head in, only to find the rooms empty. Coming
Her little grey eyes narrow to slits, and Esmie puts her hands on her cheeks, shaking her head back and forth. "No, no, that's not who I mean... oooooh," Esmie moans miserably. "There's been odd folk about, Mr. Gerthan. Odd folk, I say." She pauses, as if what Gerthan said just sunk in. "Bushroot... ah, yes, well, I know he's been saying things, of course. Lots of things about you. Horrible, nasty things, that I simply can't repeat. After all, I'm a lady..." she smirks wryly. "But I'm quite sure I haven't seen him. I've seen Rangers, and odd folk, like I say... they're the ones following me."
Farod appears from behind the bright green
door leading from the Sassafras Room.
Farod has arrived.
A baffled look comes over Gerthan's face and he asks Esmie, "What are you talking about? What odd folk? And who's following you? And are they following you now? Maybe you should go someplace more secluded, someplace where it would be harder to find you, perhaps? I think I'll go check out the second floor for that rascal Niebel. You're welcome to come along, since my bow should be protection enough against your followers, right?"
"Good, good," Esmie says, suddenly comforted by Gerthan's words. She doesn't seem so manic, and she stops trembling. Lowering her voice, she says, "I think that Bushroot's got something against me, and he simply isn't hobbit enough to seek revenge himself. I've been followed ever since the last time I saw him... so if you're after him, I'm with you!" A little thin hand reaches out and pats Gerthan's shoulder... "After you..."
A head, covered with brown, almost black hair appears in the entrance of the honeysuckle hole. A hand quickly joining the head, bringing a black and well-crafted pipe to the mouth, which stirs a long and big time, making the weed burn in great quantity, before releasing all. Little blue circle of smoke slowly elevates in the hallway as Farod leaves the place, greeting the people gathered here. "Mister Gerthan!", he salutes, nodding to the man, "And Lady Overhill...", he continues, taking the lady by the hand and bringing his lips to the front. "A pretty good day, don't you think?" he asks, cheerfully.
As Farod appears from out of the Honeysuckle Hole, Gerthan turns towards him. "I would not say today is a good day, but if you are having a good day, well, I certainly won't hold it against you." Not forgetting Esmie at his shoulder, Gerthan continues on, "Lady Overhill and I were just headed upstairs to look for that rascal Bushroot. He has been causing all kinds of mischief lately, it would seem, and you are more than welcome to join us, if you wish."
Raising her eyebrow slightly as Farod takes her hand and brings it to his lips, Esmie squirms slightly. "Yes, well, lovely," she says, pure ice in her voice. Her nostrils flare ever so unattractively, and she takes her hand back from Farod, clutching at her shawl again. "We're finding that maggot," explains Esmie after Gerthan. "And I'm going to give him a piece of my mind... a large piece."
Puffing another time, exhaling the fume by his nose, giving Farod a foggy look, the tall hobbit nods, "Sure I will join the party, but before, may I ask what Niebel has exactly done this time?", then more to himself, "Hasn't he stop drinking?".
Shaking his head sadly, Gerthan says, "Aye. That's the problem. He goes from being the town drunk to the town preacher almost overnight. Just because he couldn't handle his ale he thinks no one else can handle theirs either, so he starts spouting off all this moral talk. It seems he also has been mistreating Lady Overhill here, not to mention starting a fight with me here in the very Pony for no reason whatsoever. I think he may be hiding out upstairs, and we are heading up there to give him a piece of our minds. And as I said, you are free to join us, but we are leaving right away."
Esmie nods in assent with Gerthan, holding her head high. "I think he's finally cracked, that's what. Called me... a... a cur! Right in front of guests, and all. Right in front of them. Imagine! Me, a lady and all! No respect, that's what I think..." Esmie fidgets slightly, looking over her shoulder, then glances towards Farod.
Frowning as Gerthan starts his speach, more and more at each word spoken, Farod contents himself in inhaling fume and making circle in the air. "I think I will join in...", he starts with a low voice, not really sure of the proper reaction, "...But only in a witness way, I don't want to be implicated in this.", he continues, confusly, "It's not good for business, you must understand...", he finishes, in a breath, trailing the two people in front of him upstairs.
Nodding, Gerthan walks down the hallway to the stairs, and starts up them to the second floor.
You climb up the tall staircase from the ground level to where it stops at the landing on the second level.
Second Level Hallway
Farod walks
up the stairs from the lower level, arriving on the landing midway between
the north and south wings.
Farod has
arrived.
Esmie walks
up the stairs from the lower level, arriving on the landing midway between
the north and south wings.
Esmie has
arrived.
You push open the red door and enter into the bedroom at the far western end of the northern wing.
North Wing: Bedroom 1
Contents:
Farod
Angroch
Daniel
Aislin
Daniel says to Angroch, "Yes, I understand, she needs her sleep. I shall leave now, and get myself a room." He turns to Aislin,"take care and get your rest." With that he heads towards the door, "Please keep me informed of her condition will you please?" he says to Angroch, "I shall be within this inn."
"Daniel?" calls Aislin suddenly. "If you see Rumaile - I - I'm certain he's looking for me -- please?"
A sudden influx of people fill the room. Gerthan enters first, trailed by Esmie and Farod. Gerthan takes a step inside, then gets pushed forward a little as the other two make their way in. He mutters something under his breath, but all that can be heard is, "I guess Bushroot isn't in here." He looks over the three people in the room, and asks, "I'm sorry if we're disturbing anything. If everything all right?"
Peering behind Gerthan is a very sober, very alert Esmie Overhill. There's something of a smirk on her face, perhaps that which comes from being a voyeur of sorts. "Oh, hello," she says, mock-sweetly, batting her dark eyelashes furiously. "We were just looking for that little maggot that was in here the other day with me. You recall him don't you? Loud, obnoxious, intolerant little fellow with an immense ego and a big mouth?" she asks, squinting. Her bleary-eyed gaze goes from face to face. "Though, all you Big Folk look the same, I simply can't tell if you are the same ones I talked to before... odd, but... it shall have to do."
Being the only one with the brightness to close the door behind them, Farod enters, taking his time, as smoke invades the little room with people gathered here. Then, frowning his black brows, he asks to nobody in particular, "Shall we not see Niebel there gentlemen?", he starts, with a calm tone of voice, his pipe still hanging from his mouth, deforming some words. "And who might be these people?", he finishes looking toward the scene in front of the newcomers.
The tallest man in the room shakes his head, then lowers it into the palm of his right hand. "I should think that there would be the courtesy of knocking in the Pony, but I learn more each day..." He mutters loud enough for all to hear before putting a smile on his face, first looking to the hobbitess, "Yes, My Lady, it was I with whom you spoke, but I have not seen Mr. Bushroot, I'm afraid." He glances to Gerthan, "Sir, long time it has been since I've seen you."
Nodding to Angroch, Gerthan says, "Indeed, it has been a long time. And it is I who should apologize for not knocking first, but you see we are looking for that rascal Mr. Bushroot, and we figured he might be hiding in here since he has been causing so much trouble of late." He looks over at Aislin, and asks, "So is everything all right in here?"
Wearily, still awaiting Daniel's reassurance, Aislin turns away from the door, her countenance quite pale as another attack of coughing wracks her body. She casts a pleading look toward Angroch, which melts into relief as he begins to address the newcomers, still trying to silence her cough as she watches, with little success.
Daniel speaks to Aislin, "Yes, milady, I will tell Rumaileif I see him." With that he stands near a wall and watches the events and people before him happen.
"They all saw the way he treated me," moans Esmie, to no one really but herself. "The hobbit is off his rocker, that's what he is. Insane, I think. To speak like that; and in the presence of one so sick!" Esmie gestures to Aislin, and her lazy gaze stops as she eyes Angroch. "Ah, yes, I think I rememeber you now... but I'm stil not sure about you..." she says, taking a step aside, nearly barrelling into Farod. She does not apologize. Afterall, she's a lady.
Waving it off, the one known as the Iron Horse offers Gerthan a smile, "It is no trouble, I suspect. The Lady," he motions to the bed, "Is recovering from an illness, and needs her rest. I should say that if Mr. Bushroot DOES come here, I will at once send him to you and the Lady Hobbit, here." He cannot but resist a slight chuckle here, "But in the mean time, it would indeed be best if we let Lady Aislin get her rest."
Farod's mouth drops as he sees a woman in bed. "We really should have knocked first Gerthan. I'm afraid your hunter's instincts has overhelmed your "etiquette"", Farod continues, as he opens the door behind him, "Mister", he starts, turning his head to the man who just spoke, "My apology for the brutal entrance, I'm terribly sorry.". And with that, he exists the room with no more sound.
Nodding some more, Gerthan says, "Oh yes, of course. She does look a little under the weather. And there are still more rooms where that no good Bushroot could be hiding." He turns to acknowledge Farod, only to find the hobbit is already heading out the door. Shrugging, Gerthan turns to Angroch one last time and says, "If you do happen to find that Niebel, keep your eyes open. I've heard tell that there are some odd people in town, and he could be associated with them. He seems to exceel in getting in trouble." And with that, Gerthan also exits the room.
Farod pulls
open the door and heads out into the hallway.
Farod has
left.
You pull open the door and head out into the hall.
Second Level Hallway
Contents:
Farod
Obvious exits:
Northwing: 1, Northwing: 2, Southwing:
1, Southwing: 2, and Stairs Down
Esmie appears
from behind the red door along the western end of the northern wing.
Esmie has
arrived.
Daniel appears
from behind the red door along the western end of the northern wing.
Daniel has
arrived.
Stepping back out into the hallway, Gerthan finds that Farod has already left, and he just catches one last glimpse of the hobbit disappearing down the stairs. Gerthan quickly surveys the other rooms- knocking before he enters each time- but finds them empty. He sighs almost inaudibly, then he too decides to go back downstairs just as Esmie pops back into the hallway. "Well, Lady Overhill, it looks like Niebel is not to be found up here. I'm going downstairs to the Common Room to get a mug of cider, and you are more than welcome to join me, if you wish." He nods to Daniel as he exits into the hallway.
Nodding fervently, Esmie starts to tremble again, fiddling with the tassles on her shawl. "I--I..." she sputters, blinking up a storm. "I'm just... I think I need a drin. Those.. those people just frighten me beyond belief... I'll follow you down, Mr. Gerthan." She gestures ahead with her chin. "After you."
Stepping past Daniel, Gerthan says, "And you are welcome to join us as well. Maybe you've heard some interesting tales, lately? Or perhaps you would like to hear some? Lady Overhill has heard news of some strange people in town, perhaps you might know something about them?" Not pausing to give Daniel a chance to respond, Gerthan continues down the hallway, and starts descending the stairs.
You descend the tall wooden staircase that leads down to the ground level.
Downstairs Hallway
Obvious exits:
Sassafras Room, Honeysuckle Hole, Stairs
Up, Parlour, and Narrow Passage
Esmie climbs
down the staircase from the second level.
Esmie has
arrived.
You walk down the narrow passageway that leads back to the foyer.
Foyer
Contents:
Pony Guest Book(#17365VM)
Loudo Silvertongue
Obvious exits:
Closet, Hallway, Kitchen, Common Room,
and Archway
Esmie leaves
the narrow passageway in the northeastern corner of the foyer.
Esmie has
arrived.
You step out of the foyer and enter the noisy common room.
Common Room
Contents:
Dart Board
Long Bar
Obvious exits:
Water Closet and Foyer
Esmie comes
into the common room from the foyer.
Esmie has
arrived.
"Big folk..." hisses Esmie, looking over her shoulder. Spotting Gerthan, she nods curtly, "No offense to you, Mr. Gerthan. It's just that those Outlanders, those... travelers give me the willies. Always sneaking around, always... always..." Scrunching up her nose, she puts her hands on her hips, and squints at the bar. "I say it's time for a drink... to toast to Niebel Bushroot and his hopefully quick demise... or, at least, to a lesson learned."
Walking over to the bar, Gerthan says, "Well, I can understand your concerns, but I do assure you that not all of these Outlanders are trouble. I've been away from Bree a few times, and there are some fine people out there, of course there are also some troublemakers out there, like Bushroot." He grabs the attention of a waitress and orders a mug of cider.
Daniel comes
into the common room from the foyer.
Daniel has
arrived.
Niebel comes
into the common room from the foyer.
Niebel has
arrived.
"A brandy, now," demands Esmie, hoisting herself on a stool after a fashion. She hastily arranges her shawl, re-hitching the brooch on it, and raises her eyebrows to Gerthan. "I have never left Bree. I think I have a certain responsibility to uphold the once-understood social grace of this community. Yes, I have had a difficult life... but maggots like Niebel Bushroot seem to thrive off the misfortune of others. At any rate... I see Bree falling apart... and it's because of maggots like him!"
As if the words of Bree's Ice Queen were magic, the squat and just plain mean looking presence of Niebel Bushroot is conjured up via the door to the Foyer. "What's that, you say, crone? A maggot?" calls the town's primiere activist. "If you mean by maggot that I destroy all that is rotting in this fair town, then, yes, I am a maggot." He notices that Madame Overhill is speaking with Gerthan. "And I see you've become acquainted with Bree's most famous sissy."
Dressed in blue kilt and tan shirt with a black cloak one walks in Daniel. A shine of metal can be seen at his waist and closer looks reveals an axe hanging from his belt. His leather boots are dusty, just as the rest of his body and clothing are. It appears he has not been here long, prolly just arriving. It is clear he is not from these parts.
The man walks up to the bar and takes a seat at a bar stool.
Turning from his once tranquil seat at the bar, Gerthan addresses the newly arrived rabble-rousing miscreant, "Now you listen here, Mr. Bushroot. You're lucky I didn't try and knock you senseless the last time you were in here. If you weren't one of the littlefolk, I would give you something to think about, like a nice black eye. But you've already spent one night in jail, so if I were you I would be on my way."
A half-strangled scream starts to make it's way out of Esmie Overhill's throat. Her watery-grey eyes to bulge immensely, and blink and blink and blink. A shadow of blush appears on her cheeks. "Youuuuuuu!" she screeches, her piercing high voice cutting through the air. "You... horrible creature! Get out. Get out, you sniveling slimy lizard!" Esmie pokes Gerthan repeatedly with her bony little pointer finger, as she manages to down half of her brandy with her other hand. After letting out a thirst quenched sigh, she licks her lips momentarily, and glares. "You see, he starts in, right away, just like that. The little louse. Insulting, prying, biting, even. He's been doing this to everyone!" sneers Esmie, tossing her hair out of her face, and turning away from Bushroot.
Laughter rings out from Niebel. "Me? Insulting? At least I have the common decency to do it to your face, instead of behind my back, you snaggle toothed vulture!" He saunters over towards Gerthan, his hands grasping his lapels; a noticeable bulge can be seen underneath the left one. "And as for you, I will take you any time, any day, you drunken lout! I, however, respect Mr. Butterbur's establishment enough not to push people around in the Common Room like you do, MISSSSS-TER Greenbriar." He turns to the bar and claps his hands together for attention. "A lemonade please, my dear!," he yells to the barmaid as he scrambles up on a stool not too far where Esmie sits. He tips his hat in her direction and winks.
After Niebel's loud, overdone arrival, and boisterous talk, most of the people in the Common Room let out a collective groan. Those sitting closest to Gerthan and Niebel actually get up and seek out more secluded seating arrangements- for Niebel's and Gerthan's recent fight has been high on the gossip mill. Gerthan stands up and points a finger at Niebel, as he says, "I'm not the one who sucker punches people, you rabble-rousing, no good, degenerate half-wit!"
Niebel jerks his head towards Gerthan. "No, you just attack people from behind, scum bucket!"
Seething with animosity as hatred oozes out of every pore, Esmie's eyes, which she turns slowly to Niebel, are little daggers of ice as they bore into their prey. "You are a devious little fellow, Mr. Bushroot," she says spitefully, going for another little dainty sip of her brandy. Half turning to him, she raises a calm eyebrow. "What... you can't drink like a hobbit? Lemonade, is it? I always knew you simply couldn't handle alcohol of any sort. You're not a hobbit man, Mr. Bushroot... you're just a gentle little flower. Lemonade, honestly, only *children* drink that," she spits.
Niebel smiles and shakes his head. "Not tonight, my dear Madame Overhill, not tonight," Niebel says with a flashy, toothy grin. He nods to the barmaid as she brings him his lemonade, saying, "Thank you, my dear. Have one for yourself, too." He flips two coins up on the bar.
"Thank you, Master Bushroot," says she, snatching at the extra coins. No one is as good a tipper as Niebel Bushroot, that's for sure!
"And as for you, Gertie-poo," Niebel spits, his voice contorting comically into a look of amusement, "sit back down before you get hurt."
Niebel says, "And didn't Madame OVerhill here tell you it's not polite to point?"
Midja comes
into the common room from the foyer.
Midja has
arrived.
Laughing at Esmie's cruel words to Niebel, Gerthan says, "I did no such thing, and you know it, Bushroot. Maybe you don't drink anymore, but maybe you've been eating some wild mushrooms that you shouldn't have. Heaven knows it's the only reason to explain why someone would act as irrationally as you seem to do. And I'll have you know I'll stand where I please. I don't need anyone, least of all a fool hobbit like you, telling me where I can or can't sit or stand."
Niebel takes a long draught off his lemonade and smacks his lips. "I say, Butterbur has outdone himself this time. Is there some elderberry in this, my dear?" he asks the barmaid. "Simply delightful." He completely ignores Gerthan's pathetic attempts to raise his ire.
The door swings open as a gust of air rushes into the room, a man steps through the door looks about the room, and casully walks into the room, he makes his way past few tables and seats himself at a table in the corner.
Something in the countenance of Niebel Bushroot strikes Esmie as hysterical. She falls into a chorus of giggling glee, tossing her head back and chortling to high heaven, thumping the counter before her as she does so. "Oh, Niebel Bushroot. You *do* take yourself seriously, don't you! A hobbit... fighting against this Big Person? Not just any hobbit, but you! Niebel Bushroot?!" she says, between gasps. "I have never heard anything so silly in my life! Pick up your banner of prohibition, march onward... it is fine with me! But if you ... oh, my sides!... fight this fellow here, help me but I cannot ever take you seriously!"
Midja sits at the Private table.
Niebel calls over the barmaid with a curl of a finger. "Sweets, could you please inform the hag at the end of the bar about how I beat the Human Signpost over there senseless and it was only by the intervention of our dear local Constable that he didn't get beat more?" She giggles and nods and starts to walk over to Esmie. He adds, rather loudly with a twinkle in his eye, "Oh, while you're over there, remind the Human Signpost, too..."
He laughs and takes up his tankard once again, trying to hide his mirth.
Infuriated at Niebel, Gerthan can no longer take anymore, and walks up to Niebel and throws a punch at him.
You blindly attack Niebel
with your Bare Hands...
Your attack against Niebel
mildly wounds him!
"A softie, that's all you are, Mr. Bushroot," Esmie says, calling the barmaid over for a refill on her brandy. She snorts, and takes out her handkerchief, dabbling her nose daintily with it. "You see," she says, sighing heavily... but stops short. "Oh, good!" she squeals, as Gerthan attacks Niebel. "Oh, lovely! Lovely! Hit 'em hard! Pound 'em!"
In mid draught as Gerthan sucker punches him, Niebel is totally unawares as Gerthan's fist slams into his face, knocking the poor hobbit off his stool. He hits the floor with a resounding thud as those nearby scatter, creating a small circle for the combatants to do battle.
"You little bastard," grumbles the hobbit as he scrambles to his feet, reaching into left breast pocket.
Niebel whips a cosh out from his back pocket.
Niebel waves his little club towards him, an evil grin on his face. "Come on, boyho. Bring it to me," he challenges the Tallfolk. "Big man needs to suckerpunch poor little hobbits, eh?"
The man seated in the corner sits quietly and removes an apron from around his neck, he folds it up and places it on the table in front of him. A waitress rushes over "What can I get cha??" the man looks up and smiles "nothing...er actually a cold glass of water would be nice, I just came here to take a load off, am I taking up this table?" The waitress smiles and looks around, looks over at the fighting and sighs "It's okay, one water...comming right up" She walks away rushing ovv behind the bar.
Still fuming, Gerthan says, "Listen you no good little punk, you know you've had this coming for a long time. It's long past time that someone will knock some sense into you." Gerthan eyes the club in Niebel's hand, and decides the best route is to be aggressive.
You blindly attack Niebel with your Bare Hands...
Niebel parries your attack with his Club!
Niebel laughs off Gerthan's pathetic attempt to strike him. "I see you haven't learned much since the last time I wiped the floor with you, you little cuss!" He feints for an attack on Gerthan's midrift, but drops at the last second and strikes at Gerthan's knee.
Niebel attacks
you with his Club!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
Biting her lip, Esmie moves in closer to the bar, calling for more brandy. "Now, I call this entertainment," she says with a smirk... Her lifeless grey eyes seem infused with excitement, as she cheers Gerthan on. "Come on now, Mr. Gerthan! You can do better than that! Smash his skull!" This "lady" seems to have lost her manners, most likely from all the brandy she's just ingested.
Reeling in pain as Niebel's club makes contact with his knee, Gerthan lets out a horrible laugh. "That was a nice attack, but it will take more than that club of yours to bring me down."
You blindly attack Niebel with your Bare Hands...
Niebel dodges
your attack.
Niebel quickly
ducks underneath the Tallfolk's lunge and slides behind him, striking once
again at his opponent's knee.
Niebel attacks
you with his Club!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
"Go, Niebel!" a young hobbit, who's positioned himself near Esmie calls out. "Get that lout--make him--OW!"
The young hobbit is cut short by a terrible whap in the face from the Widow Overhill. "Shut up you little snot," she sneers at him. "Don't push me." As Gerthan is wounded yet again, Esmie cringes. "Come ON, Gerthan!" she bellows, as the level of the entire Common Room increases. People are taking sides...
Gerthan's knee buckles under him, and he holds on to a nearby stool to prevent himself from falling down. Gerthan grimaces and readies to throw everything he has into one last effort.
You recklessly attack Niebel
with your Bare Hands...
Your attack against Niebel
mildly wounds him!
The waitress walks quickl over and places a large glass of water in front of the man. He looks up then looks at the fighting and points "Does this happen very often??" he says laughing. The waitress looks over her shoulder and begins to giggle also "No not very often??" The man nods still laughing "I'll bet ya 2 coppers the hobbit wins" The waitress smiles and says "Okay Sir you're on." Then the both watch to see what transpires.
"Wha-ha!" comes Esmie victory cry, as she holds aloft her glass. "Beautifully executed, Mr. Gerthan!" To the young hobbit next to her, who is dabbing his nose with a now-bloodied handkerchief, she explains, "I had a husband who used to be into these sorts of things. Organized fights, and all. I know a good fight when I see one, and I'm certain that big fellow is just saving his energy to finish off Bushroot."
Gerthan's backhand catches Niebel's head, knocking the hobbit's trademark hat off and causing him to stagger away towards the outer edge of the circle. Ready hands push him back in towards Gerthan, and he takes the momentum in stride and dives towards the Tallfolk, stabbing his cosh towards Gerthan's groin.
Niebel attacks
you with his Club!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
His grip on the bar stool he was using for support already shaky, Gerthan lets it go as Niebel manages to get a low blow- a very low blow- in. As his hands instinctively go towards his groin, Gerthan topples down and comes crashing down onto the floor of the Pony, his bar stool landing on top of him. From the moans of pain escaping his lips, Gerthan seems to be in a lot of pain.
Her lips parting in shock, Esmie goes pale. "Goodness!" she squeaks. "That's.. horrible! What a little brute!"
Niebel slips his cosh into his back pocket
The man at the table stands and places his apron over his shoulder, he turns to the waitress "I'll be back in a moment, I'm going to get a closer look" he smiles then makes his way towards the fight.
Slipping his blackjack back to its perch in his back pocket, Niebel saunters over to Gerthan, licking his lips. "What, you don't want to play anymore, boyho?" He playfully kicks at Gerthan, strikes that would never cause damage but are annoying nonetheless. He spits on the prone huntsman and, with his head still down, he looks up at Esmie Overhill through his bushy brow. "It seems your little champion cannot play with the big boys, Madame. But then again, you never had good taste in men. And they had less judgement to want to be with you." A malicious grin breaks over the hobbit's face as he continues to stare at Esmie.
Midja walks towards the human lying on the floor and extends his hand to help the man to his feet
"You sicken me, Mr. Bushroot. Absolutely sicken me. I once had a shred of respect left for you, you know--a shred, mind you. And that is gone," Esmie Overhill says, sneering. Slowly lowering herself off the stool she's on, she looks concernedly at Gerthan. When Niebel kicks the huntsman, she glares at him. "Oh, stop it. You've already hurt him enough, do you have to do that? Do you? Are you happy now that you've proved yourself again, you little bully?" Her brandy sits at the bar, forgotten for the time being, as Esmie stands above Gerthan, shaking her head. "That's plain sad, Mr. Bushroot, plain sad. And you should be ashamed. We all know why you do this... oh yes, we all know."
Curled up in the fetal position, Gerthan is still moaning in pain, and if he sees Midja extend his hand in an offer of help, he makes no move to grab for it.
He snaps. Well, sort of. He doesn't go over the edge, but Niebel treads that fine line well. He grabs Madame Overhill by the sleeve of her gawdiest dress yet. "You listen here, you little hag!" His ears and nose start to flush into a bright shade of crimson, only looking moreso due to the colour of his hair. "He hit me first at your prodding. I was ignoring both of you sorry sods. YOU, Madame, should be ashamed." He lets go rather violently, pushing the poor Widow away. "Go back to your brandy, wench."
And there it is. The infamous Bushroot Scowl.
Midja stands between the hobbit and the fallen human he crouches down and offers his hand "Here stand up, have some water you might feel better" he says extending a glass of water towrds the man. Then looking back at the hobbit and frowns
Stumbling back, Esmie pouts slightly, still shocked at what's just happened. "I never imagined one little fellow such as yourself, Niebel, could cause such damage. It's staggering, really..." she mumbles, staring at Gerthan. She wraps her arms around herself, and sighs, tsk-tsking. "I am not ashamed, at least I have the self control to not keep going, like you just did! Fighting is one thing... but I have a feeling that inside your sick little head, you simply enjoy inflicting pain on others. You like watching people hurt, don't you... yes, you do."
Taking Midja's hand, Gerthan manages to stand up. He limps over to an empty table and collapses into a seat, obviously still in pain.
Niebel spits back at Esmie, the scowl deepening even further. "I like seeing those that hurt the innocent, yes. As for the guilty, they deserve all they get..." He picks up his fallen tankard and places it gently on the bar. Flipping a coin to the astonished barmaid (indeed, most everyone here is astonished at the sheer ferocity the little hobbit could muster...it has been a long time since such displays were common), he says, "Sorry about the mess," before turning and walking through a crowd that parts immediately.
"I have a headache," Esmie says miserably, putting her hand to her forehead. She looks positively pallid as she drags herself to the bar. Paying for her drinks, all four of them, she sighs. "I'm afraid... this is all too much for me. The violence, the violence!" she cries, as she exits.
Esmie steps
through the open doorway that leads out to the Foyer.
Esmie has
left.
Niebel steps
through the open doorway that leads out to the Foyer.
Niebel has
left.
Midja hands Gerthan his blood stained apron "here wipe your face and drink this" he says pushing a glass of water in Gerthan's face.
At the end of the bar sits a lone man. Dressed in blue kilt, tan shirt and black cloak and some what dusty. He sits quitely and drinks his drink. No one sits to either side of him and no one speaks to him niether except the bar tender that passes every so often.
A waitress walks over too Midja and tries to push something into his hand, he turns his head towards the waitress and says "Keep it I was only fooling" he then turns his attention back to Gerthan.
Slowly taking hold of the glass of water placed in front of him, Gerthan raises the glass unsteadily to his lips, spilling some of it over the side of the glass. He manages to take a little sip of water before placing the glass back on the table. He folds his hands on the table in front of him and lets his head rest on them, perhaps not wishing to look at anyone in the room.
Midja looks
down at Gerthan and frowns "Are you okay?...Sir??"
he asks quietly, then looks about the room and looks down again "You know
it wasn't a fair fight" he says kicking around some dirt at his feet.