"Call me Rory." He extended a hand bent out of shape from bones broken and re-broken. "You are?"
The man carefully shacked the man's hand "I am Nak the Necromancer. Or if you want be formal the weirdo who lives in the swamp cottage"
"A necromancer? And I'm the bloody Queen!" Rory laughed and slapped Nak on the back. "Ah, I'm only ribbin' yeh. So whereabouts are yeh from?"
Nak dusted off his robe a bit"Please don't slap me on the back like that. And I'm from the neutral part of Glinderhal"
"What, it's a gesture of friendship! Ach, fine. What's this Jinder-hahl place yer talkin' about?"
"Glinderhal is the land of the elves. It intersects several other lands such as the Orc's and the dwarves'"
"...Oh, blimey, you're serious. Is - is this one of those LARP things you teenagers are all about?" Rory sat back down on the barstool.
"What's this LARP you speak of. Is it a type bird, or a drink, a type of theater." Nak started to draw the appropriate summoning circle around Rex. Just in case you know
"I guess you could call it a theater. A bunch of younglin's get together and play-pretend wizards and knights. Kinda bollocks, but hey, each to 'is own. I'm from Glasgow - 's a decent place, but it can get violent at times." He pointed to the jagged cuts on both of his cheeks. "There's a reason this is called a Glasgow Grin, y'see."
"No I'm a real necromancer. And I've never heard of Glasgow. Is that next to the Werewolf plains"
"Well, the people there tend to be hairy, but no, we're humans through and through." Rory chuckled at his own joke. "So you deal with dead people, eh? How so?"
"Mostly contacting spirits. Like there was one of my good friends whose trapped on Earth until he finds the key to the chest he locked all of his secrets in"
Rex shakes his head, a bit dazed and manages to scramble up onto his knees. He sways for a bit as his mind soon becomes much clearer, most of the horrific events that happened while he had left mostly vanished, leaving wonderful blank space in his brain. As he notes some sort of magic circle around him, kind of like his transmutation circles, he looks around until he lays eyes on Rory. "Yo, Red-haired dude... I wasn't choking. Although I appreciate the sentiment, that kinda hurt me more than the drink did." He continues as he turns his gaze to both Rory and the necromancer, slightly ticked off, although the guy's face didn't show it. "Someone mind explaining why the hell I look like I'm about to be some sacrifice?"
"Oh, thank god yer alive! I, eh, sorry. About the Heimlich. And I don't know fer sure, but I think he was trying to turn you into a demon," he said, gesturing to Nak with his elbow. He moved in close to Rex's ear. "I think he's a wee bit odd," he whispered.
"Zombie not a demon! There is world of difference!" He said to Rory. He than turned to Rex "I wasn't going to sacrifice you. Every body knows that a bit of your own blood makes a better sacrifice anyway. But I drew a summoning circle just in case you died, it's hard to get work around here" His companion nodded at this
The pub's front door opens and a man in his late twenty's walks in wearing a black jacket over a sky blue shirt. Running a hand through his long blond hair, tied up in a functional ponytail, he replaces his trilby and goes and sits at the bar. "So, who do I have to ask to get a drink around here then?" He asks in Australian accent, drumming the robotic fingers on his right hand on the top of the bar.
"I think the barkeep is gone for a couple days" The man said getting himself a drink
"Oh is he...." The man mutters, before leaping over the bar and popping up on the other side wearing an apron. Catching the confused looks of the other patrons, the man takes out his wallet and flashes his bartending license. "So, I'm Knife 28 and I guess I'll be your exo-dimensional bartender for today, anything I can get you?"
"Yeah could I get some partridge and uh a bit of wine... Oh and do you have anything ghosts can eat" He than took out a piece of paper and started writting
"Oh, yes, pardon me mate, I've got me ghost food in me backpack." He laughed. "Agh, I'm sorry, mate, I'm prolly gettin' on yer nerves. Mr. Knife, care to whip me up a Scotch? The lass workin' the bar seems to have sodded off after I ordered."
"Would you like that partridge with or without a pear tree?" Knife asks with a slight grin as he he removes a bottle of red wine from within his jacket. "2742? Lovely year." He says to himself and he produces a wineglass from under the bar and fills it to halfway. "For legalities sake, you are old enough to drink, yes?" He asks the robed teen as he pours a glass of scotch for the Scotsman.
The necromancer hit Rory over the head with his staff "Oi that's not something to joke about. Spirits really like food you know. Do you know how disappointing that is to them" He than turned to Knife "Why would I want a pear tree and I'm twenty three, Also when did we have a age limit to drink"
"Eh, just making sure." Knife says with a shrug. "As for the pear tree it's a Christmas joke, but is all serisousness do you have any preference to how it's prepared?"
"Oh I would preferred grilled with some parsley and a good helping of blood sauce except without the sauce and in a vial, Oh and it has to be Elven"
Knife reaches under the bar and produces a plate with a grilled partridge, sprinkled with a little parsley and with a vial of elven blood sauce sitting on the side. "So, from your getup I'm guessing your a, hmmm, blood mage?" Knife guesses, placing the plate in front of him.
"What the hell is a blood mage? But anyway I'm a Necromancer It's just elven blood is the best if I want to to summon something... Very hard to find too" He said in between bites
"Necromancer eh? Fair enough." Knife says. "So, you fella's have names?"
"I'm Nak the necromancer. And my companion is Steve the zombie... He doesn't talk much"
And now your Hostess: April
The door to one of the upper guest rooms opened up with an audible creak and silenced the random banter of the NPCs that populated the Pub, or rather April's Place as the new owner was apt to calling it...
"Who the F**K are you and what the hell are you doing behind my bar? April said as she looked directly at Knife.
"He's one of the old bartenders... Before Puce took over and before you stole the Pub from me... Damn Puce'll be pissed wheb he gets back." This came from a rather drunk looking Devil wearing an Everlast Chastity Belt.
"Stay out of it Lucifer."
Then there was Jack... FalloutJack.
"And what does the Enclave want?"
The new guy looks at the people "I think I lost my sanity again. Also what is going!"
"Yea well, I called dibs so your stuck with me until I leave." Knife says, crossing his arms. "Or until I die I guess." He adds with a shrug.
Rory downed his Scotch and looked quizzically at April. He didn't have much of a clue what was going on. He was used to that sort of thing, frankly.
It's a cold day, even by northern standards which meant a small number written in kelvin. The snow billowed outside like the flakes were either getting on really badly or really well. The house was old but well-kept, furnished fine from back when wood still grew in these parts.
Unfortunately Fran's stay wasn't to last, certain inconvenient history made leaving the only option.
The doors several centuries old swung out onto the plaza, a swirling mixture of grey stone and bone white snow; it was the sort of visibility that could give you claustrophobia.
Storming out in a hot blooded rage was seldom a good idea, doubly so when the air outside having a hard time staying as a gas. But against all odds Fran stumbles on another door, one she didn't remember being there yesterday. Bursting through it there's a rush of artic air and a shower of pale powder spraying across wherever she ended up.
Looks like a pub.
Fran didn't often drink but now was the sort of time.
The necromancer walks over to Fran "Welcome to the pub club. Here's a decorative hat" He said plucking a random hat sitting on a table and putting it on Fran's head
Fran is warmed again, probably because she made everyone in the pub a lot colder.
Not her usual style but it had a simple sort of rustic charm.
"But since when has there been a pub in the grounds of my house?
Sorry about the snow by the way."