entrancelogs | Tavern Mingle (INSIDE)

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Tavern Mingle (INSIDE) | OPEN

Who: EVERYONE
Where: The Dark Lantern Tavern!
When: 1/15/16 -1/18/16 - The duration of the event!
Rating: Probably PG-13, will vary by thread.
Summary: Let's go to this creepy tavern and ask for some directions! A log for staying nice and dry inside.
The Story:

For the duration of the event, the mansion has become a dingy tavern. It has two floors, the bottom being the main tavern and the upper floor has six bedrooms with one bed and one magic closet in each room for everyone to fight over, unless they don't mind sleeping on the floor or in the tavern somewhere. With the amount of people in Wonderland, everyone is cramped together and it will be very crowded. The closets will work, however they will only provide clothing and items from time periods long gone (though they do not seem to be bound to any particular time period). There are no employees to be found in the Tavern, but there's a working kitchen with a wood fire stove and enough food and drink for everyone to last the entire event comfortably. There's even a stage with musical instruments to entertain yourselves with! There's no electricity, but plenty of candles and lanterns around.

For the entire length of the event, it will be dark outside. In addition to the never-ending night, it will pour for four days straight, and it will all seem rather ominous once it becomes apparent the sun isn't coming out. Pretty much all signs will suggest that everyone should stay in the tavern and eat, drink, and be merry with their stupid new names. But it really is tight quarters, and some might be curious to see what else is out there. Maybe there's another place to stay out there, or something. Maybe the Beast Alice spoke of is out there.

(Lost? Perhaps you're looking for the outside log or the event information.)

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A wager? Considering who he's talking to, that's an interesting prospect. Or a dangerous one, depending.

Taking his mug in his hands, he answers with a smile. Despite the whole confusing memory mess, Alistair seems all right so far--not a maniacal, mage-fearing, spoiled aristocratic too good to hold a normal conversation with the likes of Anders. For that, he can't see a harmless wager doing much damage. "What sort of wager? Winner gets a hot meal and a portal back home?"

Hm, setting the bar too high?

Edited 2016-02-11 07:10 (UTC)

Just a little high, yes. Is he forgetting which one of them here is magic?

"I can arrange a hot meal but you're on your own with the portal business." And frankly if Anders expects a hot meal prepared by him? He'd be better off going hungry.

"How about if I win you have to.... Go around and hug every person in the room." Since he'd had such a problem with strangers grabbing him earlier it should be plenty entertaining. "And if you win-?"

He blows a resigned note when Alistair proves unable to snap his fingers and provide a miracle. "I had to try. Memory manipulation is already outside of my pay grade without adding in mansions that turn into creepy, haunted shacks."

Taking a drink, he inwardly grimaces. That's not even mentioning the handsy huggers out there who apparently know more him than he knows about himself. Alistair expects him to share the love by getting handsy with more people?

"That's very funny. You know every person in the room includes you, right? If you want a hug, you just have to ask. It'd save you some trouble." The observation comes with a smile and the personal knowledge that there's no way in all of creation that he's following through on the terms of this bet. He wouldn't expect Alistair to, either, which leaves him with a clean conscience about his end of the bargain. "If I win, I'm looking forward to seeing you take the stage and singing the most bawdy tavern song you know. And you can't you don't know any, you already said you travelled with Oghren."

"Really? You mean it? I didn't know you cared." Sniffling dramatically he wipes at his eyes. "I'm holding you to that. Next time I'm feeling lonely I'll come right to you." And demand a hug. Don't think he won't!

...Alright he probably won't unless he's already had a few drinks. He does have a reputation to maintain and he's too manly for hugs. Really.

He just has to hope his reputation can deal with some public embarrassment if he loses. Some more public embarrassment. Given his usual grace and brilliance at handling things though? It won't be an issue.

"Oghren and Zevran. An Antivan. I know plenty." Alistair sounds faintly resigned with the admission. He knows the words to some incredibly bawdy songs. Some of which he only understands half of what they're talking about despite numerous offers to 'educate' him on the subject.

"I'm warning you right now, you might want to throw this. Even in the monastery they let me off singing. I think they were scared I'd cause the end of the world with my screeching." To put mildly he has a terrible singing voice. Even the kindliest of the brothers couldn't find anything nice to say about his attempts.

But if he does lose maybe it will scare the monster away for good.

Anders rests his hand over his heart for a brief moment. This mage is full of caring. Also resentment, self-interest, and an endless supply of comebacks, but there's some caring in there, too. "I never forget a person who offers me cheese during a rough day so I'm willing to make an exception to my no-bear-hugs-in-public rule for you. Anytime, anytime."

At the news Alistair has some Antivan culture under his belt, he gasps, looking as pleased as an eight-year-old about to blow out the candles on his birthday cake. "Antivan tavern songs! Oh, I hear those are in a league of their own--now I definitely can't back out. Look at it this way, your dulcet tones could be the key to shattering the walls to this magical luxury prison and sending us back to our proper homes."

So that there is an invitation to sneak up on Anders when he least expects it and give him the most bone-crushing hug imaginable. Good to know.

Especially given the sinking feeling he gets to the mention of Antivan tavern songs. Why does he get the feeling that Anders and Zevran meeting would be a terrible thing? And up until now he wouldn't have minded seeing the assassin again just to have a familiar face around.

"Right. Only if you don't mind me maybe shattering your eardrums along with them. But it's your loss." Assuming Alistair himself loses this competition. Which he's really hoping he doesn't now. Surely he can beat one mage when it comes to drinking.

...Unless Anders can put away ale like Wynne can. In which case he's already lost. But nothing ventured!

"Did I mention my specialty is spirit healing?" he informs Alistair with an unrepentant grin. "That's nothing I can't handle. Now--"

He turns the untouched mug around so that the handle faces him, leaving the mug he's already touched alone. Fair's fair. Wouldn't want to compete with a drink already missing some of its contents.

"How do you want to do this? Fastest wins? Most drinks wins? Don't let this willowy body type fool you, I can put them back like the best of them."

A healer. That's actually really handy to know. At least now he knows if he gets hurt there's someone he can go to for help. Even if there's a fair chance of Anders laughing at him too.

Making a show of sizing up the other man, Alistair considers the question. "If you're that confident, let's see who can drink the most." He's pretty sure the last time he got absolutely passed out drunk it was with the other Wardens, well before Ostagar. So it's about time to try again. And he still has a good chance of winning, given he outweighs Anders for sure.

"Wait - can your magic do anything for hangovers?"

"The best of them" had involved the men at Vigil's Keep and he'd lost horribly then, but he's not about to say that. He likes to think he's learned a thing or two since that crushing defeat; certainly being in the Wardens has helped improve his alcohol tolerance as well as his fighting skills.

Maybe he'll stand a better chance when it's just one Warden (or should he still be thinking of him as the soon-to-be king?).

"Hold on just a second, you want hangover cures now?" Anders injects some of the Circle's high-and-mighty values into the judgmental arch of his brow. "Didn't they teach you magic's supposed to be used responsibly and not for everyday aches and pains?"

One of those men had presumably been Oghren which renders all drinking competitions void. No one can compete with that dwarf and any man who tries deserves to be praised. Or have his head examined.

And look at that face. It's a perfect imitation of the look one of the old Chantry sisters got every time he opened his mouth. "Sure, they taught me that. They also taught me that quiet obedience was something to aspire to and look how well that turned out. But if you're going to be stingy like that I expect to see you looking just as miserable as me tomorrow."

If they're being too responsible to use magic to avoid the consequences of their actions then there's no way he's suffering alone.

In reply, Anders waves his other hand. "I didn't say I wouldn't use a cure on myself. The Chantry's second favorite thing to lecture about is how we mages are irresponsible and reckless with our own power."

He's a power-hungry demon farm waiting to happen, remember?

"Enough stalling. I want to see how well the real man lives up to the legend. I might forget by tomorrow, but... eventually it'll trickle back, and we'll scarcely notice any pounding in our heads over the pounding rain."

Well can't he direct some of that demon-attracting power a fellow Warden's way? It's a bit greedy to keep it just for his own comfort.

"Fine, fine. But if something terrible comes to eat us tomorrow and I'm too hung-over to fight I'm feeding you to it first." For not curing the hang-over from the drinking contest Alistair himself proposed. A perfectly reasonable response.

Hefting his first mug he downs it as quickly as possible, setting it to the side once done to keep count. He's not about to lose this competition because one of them misremembered what number they were up to.

"Well, so much for gallantry." He starts to count them down, a glint of mischief apparent in his eyes. "Three... two... one..."

Later, he may have to thank Alistair for suggesting something that requires his full focus. There's no room for thoughts of Kirkwall, or unfamiliar mages, or missing memories when he's doing his utmost to choke down a drink that goes straight to his head. With a narrowed-eyed look that dares Alistair to try and outperform him, he slams his empty mug down on the table only half a second or so behind him.

"Ha, you'll have to do better than that! That was refreshing."

Wiping his mouth against the back of his fist, Alistair smirks back at the other man. "Oh-ho, is that you asking me to dig up something stronger? Are you sure you can handle it?"

...Because he's not sure he can. Heavy drinking hasn't exactly been a regular part of his life. But he's made the challenge now, there's no backing down. Besides, all he has to do is remind himself that they've both downed darkspawn blood and nothing can compare to that. Clearly he will be able to handle whatever stronger might be hanging around.

He scoffs with perfect confidence. "I could do this all night. And not simply because I'm in the mood to wipe the last couple of hours from my mind."

The latter is true. The former is a complete and utter lie. Getting sloshed with the king still beats doing it alone. If he's going to pass the night in an inebriated haze, the best time to do it is with company.

"Are you sure you can handle it? I wouldn't want to, ahem, put you to shame. You have your reputation to uphold."

"Hmm, getting out-drunk by a man in a skirt would be pretty embarrassing. If I hadn't already lost to an old lady that one time." Or rather, gave up without even trying after seeing how she knocked them back. Which may be worse than actually losing so he's keeping that a secret.

"I think my reputation can handle it." Whatever that reputation is.

Besides, if Anders is bothered by what happened to him earlier Alistair can hardly just leave him to drink himself into a stupor alone. Not after it was his idea in the first place.

Edited 2016-03-02 09:26 (UTC)

"You laugh now, but just wait until you're fumbling with your laces later," is the lofty comeback.

Robes are the best kind of clothing to have when nature calls, or you happen to spill on them, or a hygiene-challenged dwarf gets sick on you. Just strip them off and you're good to go. Truth be told, Anders hopes not to need to go that far today--it's not the greatest of times to let their guard down while some enigmatic Beast lurks outside--but the half-grin he wears says he's game to make a show of it nevertheless.

"All right, don't say I didn't warn you. I'm mean competition! Seems to me a pitcher is in order for the next round."

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Tavern Mingle (INSIDE) | OPEN

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