"This is why I live alone me boyos." Satsu says as he saunters up to the bar. "Give me a beer, and a shot of whisky."

Kal shrugged as he put his sword away and pulled the second. "Hey, never had much choice. Prince of the realm, a lot of people always around you no matter how many times you tell them you're fine. Actually, come to think of it..." he frowned. "There's only five or six girls I can think of that haven't slapped me yet."

"Ahh that's cause your a jerk, and not in a good way." Satsu got his beer and shot. He dropped the shot in the beer and chugged the results. "Advice is free by the way. Tunes are a coin however."

"Actually, I'm usuaally slapped when they hear of past relationships, or when they think I don't talk enough." He twirled his sword lightning quick, then put it back into it's sheath.

He started checking his bow.

"Most of them don't stick around to slap me, I can tell you that."

"That's because slapping you would probably break some bones in your hand." He twirled his bow, and tried a pull on it. It came perfectly.

"I prefer a giant bow, myself."

"You should see this one magic one we keep in the vault. It's called Mi'kiuriin you can translate it two ways. Either Heartsong, or Heartreaper. It shoots arrow like they shot from a bolt thrower."

"Mine has no fancy names. But I can demolish a city wall in one hit."

OOC: So, is this RP going to go anywhere? (Like, is it going to leave the pub?)

IC: Kal stretched his legs. "Yes, but the vault one is the size of a normal bow, and doesn't require extra effort to fire."

OOC: Idle chitchat is fine with me. There's been too mch killing of late.

IC:

"Hmm. Interesting. Although, I might add, I hardly expend extra effort on mine. It also doubles as an interesting close-combat weapon..."

Kal flicked up both swords with a twirl and caught them so they were facing straight up. "Yes, but that's why I have these. High quality blades, done but master-smiths, magicked a bit to hold their edge better."

"True, but I've always favored a nice, simple club."

"Yes, but you've got the size, strength, and brawn to use one. I do not unfortunately. I've only got quickness, wit, skill, and my aura of charm to save my ass."

He sheathed his swords, and went through counting his arrows. "29. 29? I could've I had thirty." He looked up to see the half-ogre using an arrow as a toothpick.

"Hey!"

"Oh. sorry."

He returned the arrow tip, with a big mass of meat fibers stuck on it."

"Cows nowadays... just too tough."

Kal looked at the arrow. He loaded it into his bow, and shot it into the target on one side of the bar, a dead bullseye.

"'Tis okay. Just please don't do it again."

ooc: This Rp goes where you want to go. It's a bar.

"Fancy dancy weapons. I prefer a good trusty bow. Some good trusty arrows. and the sword of my father. Simplicity friends. keep it simple and you can't fail."

"True. No point having some sword filled with mercury when you don't know how to use it properly..."

"I prefer to crush my enemies with hordes of demons!" The roobed man screamed out after hearing the talking of the other bar people. Then he quickly looked away and refilled his cup.

"Well, that works too..."

The door burst open, and a peculiar figure stumbled in. His skin was pitch black, and his hair snow-white. He wore thick black goggles. What was peculiar was that he stood less than 3 feet tall.
"Oh, dear Lolth," He panted as he stumbled in, "I think I lost em." He walked over and climbed up onto a stool, only having a hard time once.
"Beer, please."

"Heavens!" Gar cried in mock astonishment. "Have the powers seen fit to assail us with black begoggled potatoes?"

He smiled at the strange fellow.

"So, what's your story?"

The tiny drow glared at the ogre. "Call me a potato again and I'll cast you into the thirty seventh layer of the abyss. The goggles are medicinal. My eyes are highly sensitive to light. If you have to ask, my father was a halfling and my mother was a drow. I didn't deserve to be chased by the villigers. It was that kid's fault for catching me in an unpleasant mood. I mean, hes only comatose…"

"Well, I suppose knocking a kid out would make them justifiably mad at you..."

"Mad? They were a bit more peeved than that. By the way, I did a bit more than just knock him out. That is to say, I think he may be vegetative." He went back to his drink. "So what about you? Got any skeletons in your closet?"

"Not really. I suppose being half an ogre might count, but in that case I'd be the skeleton in the closet. I doubt anybody here cares, anyway. What the hell did you do to that kid, paralyze him for life?"

"Let's just say that blunt head trauma is something you want to avoid."
He looked at the bartender, "Yo! Barkeep! Another beer."