07:40 PM

Salamandastron: Recreation Room
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Salamandastron *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-
The recreation room for the army of the Longpatrol. Here soldiers come to
relax after a hard day's work and the officers come for a game of cards or
a quick drink by the fire. The room is quite large, having to deal with a
lot of hares at one time. Along one wall there is a large worktop with
some cuhsioned stools lining one side of it. On the other side of the
worktop there stand many kegs and bottles, lined so that they can be
easily opened by someone standing on the inside of the bar but well out of
reach of the rowdy hares on the other side. There are a few woollen cloths
on the bar and mats in front of each stool. The next thing nearest to the
bar are the round tables, each with 4 chairs around and a lantern in the
middle of each one. There are a couple of slightly larger oval tables with
8 seats around, obviously for larger crowds. The other end of the room is
littered with armchairs, comfortable armchairs,  each pair with a small
table in between. The armchairs are near the fire, used to heat the room
and provide extra comfort for the relaxing soldiers.
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                  Visible Exits:
[Out]

Jarril enters the room, looking a bit tired as he makes his way through the usual crowd of hares that are doing their drinking, talking and basically socialising.  Turning his head to looking at two hares trying out their strength on arm wrestling the major smiles and makes his way over to the bar, replacing a space from where a hare had left with a few mugs of ale in his paws.  Leaning on the wood, he waits until its his turn to get served, just content with looking at things behind the bar.

Neville potters quietly back and forth, calmly serving the crowd. They seem more subdued than normal, perhaps because the barhare had another 'moment' where he had to calm down the masses. He sees the major waiting and nods in greeting, placing a tankard and a smaller glass in front of the hare he's currently serving before wandering over. "Evening Major, what'll it be tonight? The usual light ale?" asks the barkeep, giving one unruly fighter an evil, warding glare as he leans a bit too far over the bar, he glances back, "Busy as always in 'ere eh?"

Jarril gives Neville a smile as he replies.  "Aye but we all know that this room is ya domain."  He pauses.  "So barred anyone lately?"  Looking about at the subdued lot as he returns his gaze. "My usual, just ale tonight I think."

Darklett moseys on into the bar area of the mountain, a quiet whistle on his lips as he strolls over to the bar proper. He sidles up next to a seat, catches sight of the major, and gives a quick salute, before hopping up on his stool and spinning to the side, waiting for Nev to finish whatever business he has before giving his own order.

Jarril gets his order and makes his way back to a chair to sit down.  Leaning back, the major goes back to his thoughts again as he looks about the room, grins and then takes a long slow drink of the frothy liquid held inside.

"How about some of that darker ale you suggested a few days ago, Nev? Thanks," Darklett requests as Neville is ready for his order, and he drums his paws on the bartop as he awaits his order to be filled, then grins and takes it with a grin and another 'thanks' to the barhare as he lifts the mug up to his lips for the first sip. "Mm, good as ever."

Placing his mug down, Jarril takes a look about the room again and continues with his thoughts.  Seeing one of the younger trainers giving him a salute, he just nods his head back and smiles a bit more.  Turning his head to the side, he spots a book on a chair and picks it up, examining it, opening the cover to see if it says who it belongs to.

Darklett spins around a hundred eighty degrees in his barstool, facing away from the bar. He slides off, and heads over to the major, and has a seat nearby. "Afternoon, sir." He takes a rather large gulp of his mug, and wipes his upper lip clear of foam with the back of his paw. "What's that?" he asks, pointing to the book.

Jarril shrugs slightly as he flicks through the pages.  "Someone's book on Salamandastron's spirit making I think."  The major smiles and places the book in a more safer resting place under his chair as he looks ta where Neville is.  "I'll keep that until later when he's less busy.  So how's the day going so far for ya?"

Darklett shrugs. "The usual, of course." He stretches out his arms, relaxing back. "Trained a little down in the training room; took your advice, I've been working on some of my upper body strength a bit. Heh, it's got me a little sore, so I wound down by throwing my knives. Still as good as ever, but that reminds me of something I need to ask about..."

Jarril holds up a paw.  "If its what I think it is.  Not here, wot."  He gives a slight frown but smiles.  "That can wait.  Glad ta see that ya training is going okay.  Can't say the same for myself though."  The major picking up his mug again and taking a sip.  "Would ya believe I had that mad otter running in, raving about one of my hares stealing an apple pie?  So I went ta him.  I don't know what the bally flip ya on about here, riverdog.  My lot have been busy doing archery training ta go nicking some apple pie.  I think he's gone ta others now, trying ta find out who stole that.  Things have been going missing in his larder."  The major smirks.  "Ah well, there be a hare responsible somewhere, just wonder what the otter will do when he finds him."

Darklett nods to the major. "Yeah, it's partially about that. I can ask later." He lets his mug paw rest at his side, taking his time with the drink. "Sounds unfortunate for Skip's sake, but really, do you think it's only one hare?" The dark-furred buck laughs at the thought, sipping at his beverage. "To say there's only one hare taking food from the kitchens is like saying there's only one wave out there on that sea!" He points to the wall of the room that's in the same direction of the sea, smirking.

Jarril nods his head.  "Aye, well.  Ya can say that ta his face and see if ya don't get whacked about with his ladle.  Old he may be but never mess with a angry riverdog, wot."  The major ponders sfor a moment.  "Ya know, I could sell that match."  Chuckling slightly.  "Ta be honest, he's been brooding about lately, haven't ya noticed?  I think it's getting ta him there isn't another otter living in the mountain.  Just us foodbags as he calls us now."

Darklett smirks a little wider. "Oh, I don't plan on messing with any angry riverdogs anytime soon, believe me, major." He laughs good-naturedly, and sips at his drink again. "I haven't really noticed, but if that's the case... Well, we can't have our jolly old cook having a bad case of the lonelies. He'll start botching up food, and we just can't have that!"

Jarril nods slowly.  "Well, he did start off well when he first arrived, but I think the mountain has worn off over the season.  So what you ya suggest then?"  The major runs a finger over the rim of his mug and ponders a bit more.

Darklett shrugs. "Well, to me, the answer's obvious! We gotta get him another otter." His brow raises as he suggests it, leaning forward. "You said yourself you think that's what's getting him down, so why don't we find a way to search for a pretty little otter maid to keep him company in the quieter hours?"

Jarril shakes his head.  "Bit hard considering the circumstances."  The hare says slightly and looks about a bit more.  "That and I never live it down if I am found ta be doing that sort of plotting since I hate Colonel Zoe from trying ta match me up as well.  No, I will keep out of this one."  He smiles at Darklett.  "Ya though can go right ahead on it."

Darklett's face straightens considerably. "Ha! Ha... Yeah, that's what I'll do, I'll go right out on a walk through the surrounding territories and see if I can find Skipai a nice, pretty otter maiden who'll magically drop everything and come live in the mountain. Yeah, yeah..." He's obviously praying that's not an actual order. XD

Jarril laughs.  "Nah, I don't think he like it, he's ta old and all now.  Glad Ear hasn't tried ta convert him ta his ways really.  Can't say I like the idea of a drunk cook, wot."

Darklett relaxes a little. "Yeah, you're right. Besides, I wouldn't wanna leave the mountain now, anyway." He doesn't go on to elaborate as to -why,- but the glance that follows the statement should kill any doubt Jarril might have had. "Anyway..." He takes a big drink of his ale, licking his lips. "I'll have to show you rather than tell you what I wanted to talk to you about sometime in the training room."

Jarril takes a deep breath and waves a paw to the side.  "Now, now.  There's more ta just work...."  The major stops as he frowns, shaking his head.  "I can't bally well believe I just said that."  His ears dropping slighlty as he takes a sip of his ale.  "Okay, but I am on break.  No one is going ta move me from this seat until I have rested.  Wouldn't be good show, that wot."

Darklett snorts out a quick laugh, drinking down a gulp of ale. "Ah, my knife training isn't work, it's play!" he insists, quickly bringing out a knife, twirling it around his paw and sheathing it to illustrate. "And I'm not trying to force you out of that seat, not at all. Just whenever you've got a free moment."

Jarril blinks.  "Free moment...."  He looks like he hasn't heard that word in such a long time.  "Oh yes, majors just sit about all the time and do nothing, doncha know."  He grins.  "Sorry ta ruin the believe the lower ranks have there, wot."

Darklett rolls his eyes. "Ah, you know what I mean. Forget it, I'll just tell you some other time, but not here." He downs the rest of his ale, and lifts off his chair to drop it off at the bar, with a wave of thanks to the tender, and sits back down. "Well, I guess I can at least ask you what I'd have to go through to get a new set of throwing knives? And I don't mean the stuff that's stored down in the armory, I tried it, and they're not the same balance as the ones I've got... My throwing would be all off."

Jarril blinks.  "Ask Ear about it, not that I know any others here that are good at making any weapons like that."  The major sips his ale, glad to have moved that problem onto the colonel.  "Never know."  He says at length.  "May get ya ta make them yaself in the forge room.  That'll build up the muscles, no mistake there."

Fighter Gerald steps up nervously, placing two ales in front of the two officers before throwing up a nervous salute, "Compliments of the bartender officers, he asked me to bring em over" he explains, before turning quickly and wandering back towards the bar "... or he wouldn't serve me" mutters the fighter under his breath as he returns to a grinning Neville, who promptly rewards him with a frothy tankard of his own. Neville nods to the two officers before ducking off to serve another anxious hare.

Darklett nods. "Alright, I'll make sure to ask. The ones I've got are a little worn, they're throwing my aim off. I've needed a new set for a while now, but it's gotten worse, and... well, it's gotten more urgent, too. I'll make sure to talk to him." He takes his drink from the fighter with a smirk, "Very good work."

Jarril blinks and takes the new mug from the officer and has two in his paws now.  Looking at Darklett the major gives a warning glance.  "If ya say I am a earlier version of colonel Earblade, I will so kick ya about the mountain."  Finishing the first tankard, the major places that down and starts on the second.

Darklett laughs, sniffing at the new drink to find it's the same thing he had before. He nods, "Alright, major. I won't say you're an earlier version of colonel Earblade..." He snerks, and takes a gulp, with a satisfied 'ahh' afterwards.

Jarril nods and goes quiet again, listening to what is going on in the room, the happy voices of the hares relaxing and without a care in the world.  Getting a smile, the major sighs happily before taking another sip of his ale, enjoying the innocence that the lower ranks have without too many worries.

Darklett takes a drink of his ale, then looks thoughtful. "I think I need to go practice some more," Darklett says, rather compulsively. Another drink is taken, then another. "Yeah, and talk to colonel Earblade about the knives." He drinks yet again, and nods to himself.

Jarril nods his head and finishes his tankard.  "Ah, go see him now before he gets ta drunk ta deal with it."  The major gets up himself.  "I have things ta take care off myself.  Good day ta ya."

Darklett stands up, and salutes to the major, gulping down the rest of his drink, and walking over to the bar to place the second empty tankard on the bartop. "Afternoon, major!" He rolls his shoulders, looking around once again at all the happy-go-lucky (clueless) individuals around the bar, and sighs, heading out of the bar.

Jarril slowly pads up to the bar where Neville is and places both empty tankards on the bar.  "Ah, well.  Thanks for the ale, Nev.  See ya around.  Oh ya book is under that chair over there." Pointing to it as he gives the bartender a nod, the major turns around and begins to head out himself.