10:00 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]

Wimble props her elbows against the bar, his head tucking down into open hands. The doe thinks for a moment and flops an ear, raising the other. "'Tween specials? Ah... 'ight. Somethin' minty then... some berry mint cordial or wote'er, really." Wimble says with a shrug, kicking a foot out and swinging it slightly. "Don' spend too much time on meh... need t'brew, I 'pose." Wimbles says with a chuckle. "Wot you been up t'anyways, Nev mate?"

Slips into the room and looks about before heading to one of the tables.  Bending down, the major pulls on one of the hare's ear with a paw and whispers something, giving a slight frown.  Pointing to the door, he says quietly.  "And ah think ya should get there, don't ya?"  Standing up, he watches the young hare get up and leave quickly before Jarril moves to the general direction of the bar, sitting down at one of the free stools.

Neville nods with the order and turns, taking a tankard and taking out a few dried berries and fruits, grinding them up and mixing them together with some pre-mixed juice. He puts a small stick in and uses it to stir up the mixture, adding in a few pinches of mint with a slosh of a colourless spirit from one of the various bottles lining the shelves. He gives it a critical once-over to make sure its a good mix and plops it down in front of the doe. "There you are m'dear, one berry 'n' mint cordial with a kick" he says with a grin, looking up to see the major entering. He rolls his eyes as another poor low-ranker gets ordered about and raises a paw in greeting, "Evenin' Major, summit t'drink?" he asks cheerily.

Jarril slowly nods his head.  "Aye."  He places his paws on the bar and looks about.  "What's the special t'night then?"

Neville laughs and returns to the head-scratching sheepish grin he had adopted before the major entered, "Ah, yes Major, as I was just sayin t' the lady here, I ain't got the spring specials made yet." he explains with a nervous chuckle, "Y'see I didn't get the fruits 'n' spices I was expecting in an I'm out of the winter stuff... so... No specials I'm afraid, just the norms". He grins, "Got a freshly brewed woodland ale, quite dark and rich and whatnot, yet to tap the barrel in fact. If y'fancy summit like that?" asks the barkeep.

Wimble grabs the glass carefully and sniffs in. She smiles and nods, peering down into the colorful, sweet liquid. The doe takes a sip and looks over to see the Major. She really didnt have a problem with it, since she wasn't supposed to be anyways. The doe gave a smirk as another patron was kicked out. Wimble glanced over as he sat a stool away from her. "G'day tharr, Majah. Pesterin' Nev 'bout th' specials tha' don't exist, huh?" The doe laughed out loud and winked at the barkeep.

Jarril blinks and holds up his paws, while giving Neville one of his frowns.  "If ya tell me that ya suppliers are in trouble again and need saving, then ya on ya own, Nev me old lad."  The major coughs and smirks.  "I ain't fetching anything else for ya.  If I knew how messy the bar business is on getting stock I'd suggest everyone ta not take up the task here with the young leverets, wot."  Pausing.  "Well, best give me whatever best is left from the winter stock then."

Neville The Barkeep's ears droop slightly as his newly brewed ale goes unrequested, he sighs, knowing that it'll probably stay unopened till the old colonel turns up later in the evening. He ponders thoughtfully before clapping a fist into his other palm and grinning broadly. "Thats it! I've still got some of the festival things left over. Can make yer a good warm spiced ale if y'like Major? Or, if you want ta know the benefits of our patrol" Neville winces at this point at the memory, "I straightened out the recipe for a decent liqour from the distillery, noone's wanted to try it yet. I think they reckon I'm gonna try poison em like the.. err.. trial batch" he adds with a grin. He peers back towards Wimble, "I take its another fine beverage from the west's finest brewer?" he enquires with a wink.

Jarril looks at Neville for a moment and then to Wimble as he gives her a nod.  "G'day ta ya, lass."  Moving his head back to Neville, the major smiles.  "Alright, I bite.  Give me a tankard of ya new ale then.  I may as well give it a taste."  He drums his fingers on the bar as he watches Neville.  "Gotta show them that upper ranks take risks, wot."

Wimble simply sips on her glass, eyes falling to the pattern that the condensation was making on the sides of it. She fell silent, listening to the chatter of the patrons around the bar. The doe quickly grows board and turns a careful eye to the barrel that Nev had just rolled in. She knew she would regret this, but she seemed to break the lull in her own conversation. "Wot'd y'bring up here, mate?"

Neville frowns and coughs, "Theres no risk whatsoever in trying the new ale Major, its a solid brew and theres noubt wrong with it. The new liqour might have some... erm... kinks to iron out but the ale'll do nothing more than a dodgy head if y'have a few too many" he explains as he hammers a tap into the front of the new keg. He sets the tap and lets the first few bits pour into a slops before bringing out a clean tankard which he proceeds to fill slowly. He glances over to Wimble as she asks about it. "Its a new brew of mine, just a continuation of an old favourite really. Dark ale, rich and strong" he says, patting the top of the barrel and flicking off the tap as it reaches the top, a slight stream of foam flowing over the top. He places the tankard in front of Jarril and looks back to the doe, "Its rather good, though a couple of pints is worth double that of a light ale... got a slight kick y'know" he says with a grin.

Jarril nods and picks up the tankard as he gives the forth a bit of a sniff and then shrugs slightly before taking a drink.  Keeping silent for the moment, the major wipes the froth from his face and slowly begins to smile.  "Nev, ya the best barkeep, ale maker, wine maker in the whole world as far as I am concerned."  The major takes a long drink and nods his head.  "Aye, this is fine, in fact this is quite good really, wot."  He snerks though.  "May want ta make a weaker version for those that can't take it though."

Neville grins widely towards Jarril, "Aye, well I'll not too modest to put up an arguement against the barkeep and the ale brewer parts but I can't claim the wine makin' and whatnot. I'm just a darned good networker, got the contacts bringin' be the wine to keep you lot happy. An I'm after the 'worlds best spirit distiller' title.. but I just ain't got there yet. Distinct lack of test subjects" he says with his mad-scientist grin. Neville peers back towards the ale keg and then back to the major with a slight hint of disgust, "Make a weaker one... you're having a laugh right major?" he asks skeptically, "I've got standards y'know". The bartender then looks to the doe, "Y'alright there m'dear? Can I get you another or anything else to keep y'smilin?" asks the bartender with a wink.

Wimble listens to Nev boast about his new creation with a smile of amusement on her face. She keeps sipping at the sweet drink, almost choking as she laughs at the Majahs comment. "Oh, rather, Majah.! Goes widout sayin', don' it?" The doe agrees with a nod. By this time her drink is down almost all the way. Wimble sets it down on the bar and runs a finger around the rim of the empty glass. "Hrmm... I might jus' try some o' that dark ale, Nev." She finally says with a solid bob of her head.

Jarril just smiles back at Nev.  "Well, as long as the patrol aren't ta drunk ta go and deal with the unruly bullies in the world, then by all means, make stronger ales."  He takes another big gulp of the ale and downs the whole thing in one go, placing the tankard down on the bar.  "But I have ta go and make sure someone is where he should be."  Slipping off the stool.  "I bid ya both farewell for now."

Neville takes on a large, beaming grin, "That's wot I like t'hear! A lass after me own heart" he adds with a laugh as he turns and grabs a new, clean tankard and starts it filling up. "Y'can't beat a good, traditional pint now an' then" he says, nodding in agreement with his own statement. He glances over and nods approvingly as the major finishes his ale, "Well getting 'em drunk is my job major, its you that hasta keep the chaps on duty sober" he says with a grin and a casual salute to the departing officer. He wipes down the side of Wimble's tankard as he places it in front of her and swiftly plucks up the used glass and Jarril's empty and puts them out of view. He whispers to the doe, "Take it easy with that one eh? I bet the major will feel a tad wobbly after downin' one of them, its not summit to be rushed" he confides with a grin.

Wimble salutes Jarril as he leaves. "Evenin' Majah." She says in a short military voice. The doe turns back, eyeing Neville as he prepares the drink. "Huh! Cordial be fina an' dandy, Sah, but y'gotta make room fer th' serious stuff, wot wot?" She says, nodding firmly. The doe presses a few coppers on the bartop as he presents the mug. "Very good, Nev! Looks like th' ticket stuff, this!" Wimble leans in and gathers the ale, sniffing it before taking a sip. Her ears fly up and the doe grins. "Top notch, mate! Congrats on ah good brew."