Brawl in the Seven Stars
A tale freshly told of the Gondorian
The scout, Hanomir, finds himself facing a different type of battle, but luckily a new acquaintance, Daerthor, comes to his rescue. However, his arrival marks the start of a brawl.
The Seven Stars: Common Room
The Inn of the Seven Stars boasts one of the liveliest common rooms in Minas Tirith. The double doors open out to a long, rectangular room a stage sits against one of the walls, and appears as if it is used for announcements, readings and performances. A plaque decorates the wall behind the stage.
The opposite side of the room is heavily occupied by the bar a high and long oak bench from which serving men and women scurry to the many tables, chairs and benches that are squeezed into the common room. Softer couches also offer comfort, congregated nearer to the stage. At the rear of the spacious entertaining area is a winding staircase, leading up to the guest rooms and offices above.
Contents:
Daerthor
Stage
Obvious exits:
Stairs Up leads to The Seven Stars: Corridor.
Out
[Minas Tirith City ZMO(#81)->Hanomir]
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Weather: Clear
Time: Late Afternoon <18>
Season: Spring
Date: Oraearon - April 28, 3047
Real Time: Wed Jul 01 11:43:29 2009
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The left of the double doors slowly opens, a hand pushing it hesitantly. Hanomir, a scout of the Cuthalion house, is the owner of the hand, and curiosity is amongst his young features as he makes his way into the Seven Stars Inn. Hanomir has not made much of an effort to pay regular visits to his place, so the shock of multiple voices all talking loudly at once is quite a shock to his ears.
Hanomir feels himself being pushed forward from behind rather agressively, and finds himself being sat down at a table by a random stranger. An ale is shoved in front of him as the stranger and a group of people sit down. He looks at the ale uncertainly, before shaking his head. This is met by jeering laughter.
\"Go on! Have a drink!\" A grey-haired, bearded man chortles, before picking up the tankard and literally pouring the ale down Hanomir\'s throat. He coughs and splutters, but reluctantly swallows the alcohol, secretly hoping a friend will come and rescue him.
[Daerthor(#31594)]
A moment later, and another scout steps through the doors of the Inn. But this scout has come here before, and is well aware of the noise and and bustle of the place - he quickly steps to the side, back against the wall, arms folded, wearing a closed expression. Some of the rowdier men glance at him, but one threatening stare from him turns their heads away either he looks intimidating enough, or perhaps the men are hesistant to avoid the wrath of his house. Whatever it is, he is left alone, at least for now. His eyes rove about the inn, seeking for a quieter spot, but something catches his attention: Hanomir, a fellow scout, but of the house of Cuthalion an acquaintance he had just met a few days prior.
In a desperate search for rescue, Hanomir turns his head to the door a little too quickly, causing the remaining ale in the tankard to spill all over his blue robes.
\"Damn it!\" He curses, ignoring the laughter of his new companions. He tries getting up, but is pushed back down by someone, another tankard of ale shoved in his face. Peering over the top of the unwanted tankard of ale, he spots Daerthor, a fellow scout he\'d met a few days ago. Unfortunately, there is no way at the moment to ask for help, so he hopes that the member of Carmayar is in a friendly mood.
[Daerthor(#31594)]
It turns out that Daerthor is indeed in a charitable mood, instead of being inclined to watch the show and laugh at Hanomir\'s fate. After surveying the scene for a mere few seconds, Daerthor, deciding to step in, walks towards the table quickly. Stopping just in time to see one of the rowdy men pick up the tankard, bringing it in the direction of Hanomir\'s mouth, he slams his fist on the table. The loud and sound reverberates around the table, enough to cause the men to pause, drawing the attention of the nearby tables.
\"Dear men of Gondor,\" he begins. \"It is rather interesting to find such a group of people, making merry to their own delight, in these dark days. Yet it is not the merry-making that has caught my attention I should be able to find other such unique groups in other parts of the city. But one would wonder if your delight is also in your twisted sense of the concept known as \'consideration\'. Perhaps a discussion with the Haradrim of this term would be apt, as I am sure you all would get along nicely.\"
Hanomir glances around as Daerthor approaches, managing to push the tankard away as the group around him also look to the newcomer. The man holding the tankard drops it in surprise as Daerthor thumps the table, of course spilling the ale over Hanomir again. Hanomir listens to what the scout had to say, feeling slightly tipsy and unable to take in everything he said. However, despite it not meaning much to Hanomir, it seemed to affect his \'captives\'.
The grey-haired man stands up, advancing on Daerthor, a few inches taller and probably a lot bigger too.
\"I\'ve been wanting a brawl all day.\" The man smirked, before throwing a punch at Daerthor. This action was to enough to earn cheers from the drunken crowd, and soon everyone begins to throw punches at eachother. Seeing his chance to escape, Hanomir leaps back from the table, before being shoved forward yet again, now trying his hardest to dodge random punches while tipsy. Not how he expected to be spending his short visit to this inn.
[Daerthor(#31594)]
Daerthor nimbly dodges the punch and immediately retaliates, driving his knee into the man\'s crotch. Drunken, the man is in no condition to stop him, and he howls in pain, bending over and protecting his bruised area. Free of this man, Daerthor turns, searching for any other opponents near - he finds one, equally as drunk. Picking up the tankard and smashing it into this man\'s face, Daerthor moves away from the table, searching for Hanomir within the all-out brawl. Finally spotting him, he reaches to grab his forearm, and calls out. \"Hanomir! This place is no place to be with you just released from the Houses of Healing. We leave immediately!\"
Hanomir blinks, dazed as he stumbles back from a punch in the nose, slipping on some of the leftover ale on the floor. He falls on his back, wincing and tenderly touching his recently healed chest wound. The attacker laughed, so Hanomir grits his teeth, and pulls his legs out from underneath him, sending him sprawling backwards, knocking into someone who had just swung at Daerthor\'s head and sending him flying into a table, creating a domino affect as a third man is knocked over.
Climbing to his feet slowly, he feels someone grabbing his arm, and as an auto reflex, spins around to punch the person. His eyes widen as he sees Daerthor, but his punch can no longer be stopped. Luckily, a drunk man stumbles between the two and Hanomir finds his fist colliding with the man\'s nose, causing blood to spray everywhere.
\"Y-Yes, I agree.\" He gasps, ducking a tankard that had just been thrown through the air, \"I no longer like this inn.\" He starts making his way to the door, swivelling through the drunken, fighting men.
[Daerthor(#31594)]
Daerthor winces as he sees Hanomir\'s punch heading towards him, but a thud alerts him that the punch has merely hit a drunken bystander. Quickly following Hanomir, he dodges the flailing fists around him and races for the exit. Finally, with no more mishaps along the way, he reaches the double doors and flings them open.
Hanomir quickly reaches the door as well just as another stray tankard smashes into it, spilling even more ale on his clothes. \"Oh fantastic...\" He mutters, before making one last lurch for safety, bursting outside.
\"Remind me to never visit an inn again.\" He gasps, slumping against a wall outside, glancing at Daerthor. \"Thank you, though.\"
Minas Tirith: Woodwright Street: The King\'s Common
Knowing that the folk who dwell in this city of stone must at times seek greenery and air, the Sea-Kings had established here between the wide walls a bright swath of grass that became known as the King\'s Common. It is called thus because many of the folk of the city come hither to walk freely over the soft grass. Indeed, Woodwright\'s paved way has become only a well tended pathway here, perhaps large enough for a single cart to pass through. The grass itself is well tended and along the fringes of the common are trees set, mostly Lebethron, but also Rowan and Oak can be found here. To the southwest, the street resume on its more formally paved way, but not before it passes through a mighty free-standing Arch.
The arch perhaps is the chief wonder of this place and it seems almost triumphal in the might of the arms of the West. Yet that was long ago, and the runes upon it are barely readable, for in this latter day, it seems to have fallen into decay. Yet still at dusk it is a marvel, for its stony shadows lay heavily upon the Greensward of the Kings of Men. Then to the north, hemming in this green place is the great embrasure. Cutting through all the circles of the city save the first, the only way around it is to continue through a tunnel wrought in it to the north.
Along Woodwright Street here also lies the entrance to the Inn of the Seven Stars. A sign with the seven stars hangs above two solid, oak doors leading into the establishment. An expansive balcony on the second floor of the Inn looks onto Woodwright Street below. Type \'look balcony\' to see who is there.
Obvious exits:
Southwest
NorthEast
Seven Stars Inn
Daerthor steps back out to the street from the Seven Stars Inn.
Daerthor has arrived.
[Daerthor(#31594)]
A few seconds after Hanomir reaches the safety of the street, Daerthor follows through and slams the doors shut as he leaves. He leans against the wall - lounges, even - and scrutinises his fellow scout. A small smile of amusement reaches his lips as he watches Hanomir gasp, his clothes drenched with ale. Soon the smile grows into quiet laughter. \"Not all inns are as rowdy as the Seven Stars,\" he says. \"The Old guesthouse is far quieter. Or you may consider the Steward\'s Hearth or the Drover\'s Arms in future, if you ever want a mug of ale amidst good company. Have you been to any of those?\"
Looking down on the grass below, he adds a further remark. \"The ale from your clothes seems to be watering the grass quite nicely.\"
Hanomir shoots a not-very-serious glare at his fellow scout, but listens to what he had to say, \"Afraid not. I chose this place as it is closest to my home. I am not entirely sure why I even entered, but I do indeed regret it. But I think I shall be safe and avoid taverns completely in the future. What were you doing here, anyway?\"
He rolls his eyes, \"Well hopefully the grass won\'t become alcoholics like seemingly loads of the city\'s residents.\"
[Daerthor(#31594)]
\"I have not come here in a while, and I miss the ale here - tis different from the ale found in the other taverns, and I am used to the rowdiness. Besides, I saw you entering, and I was intrigued to see if you could hold your ground in this particular establishment,\" Daerthor replies, still chuckling quietly. \"In future, you may want to stick to having your ale at home. I am sure the Drover\'s will deliver a small barrel to Cuthalion House. Or perhaps you would rather ale from the Seven Stars, seeing how you gulped the first tankard down so quickly?\" He raises his eyebrows, his face looking perfectly curious - a tad too curious, if one looks closely.
Hanomir listens to the explanation, rubbing his now sore head, but unfortunately that is due to alcohol, not a physical blow. At the comment about seeing him enter, Hanomir glares again, \"And I am guessing that you doubted I could?\" He asked sourly, but not unfriendily, before groaning, \"If so, you judged correctly, it seems.\"
He smiles sarcastically at his suggestion, saying seriously, \"I will keep that in mind, thank you. And I had no choice in the matter, though I admit the ale is rather nice. I\'d rather drink it in my own time, the alochol I quickly consumed seems to have gone straight to my head.\" He rubs his head once more for emphasis.
[Daerthor(#31594)]
\"Did I say that?\" Daerthor asks, complete with a wide-eyed look. Soon his facade collapses as he laughs heartily. \"I merely wanted to watch the proceedings,\" he continues. \"If the room had not degenerated into a mindless brawl, I daresay we would be sitting at a small booth, talking over the ale.\"
He frowns at Hanomir\'s words. \"Perhaps we should get you home,\" he says. \"You can sleep off the effects of the alcohol, and we may yet meet another time before I am called back to Ithilien.\" He takes a few steps out of the King\'s Common, waiting to see if Hanomir follows.
Hanomir grins weakly, ending his stance of leaning against the wall, \"You did not need to, it was obvious you implied it. Yes, a friendly discussion was interrupted by another battle, though this time an unusual one...\"
He nods slightly, \"That may be the best idea, I don\'t really like this headache.\" At his next words, he frowns slightly, \"And perhaps I will be with you when you are next called back, I am recovered enough to rejoin the scouts, I believe. But until then, I guess it is farewell.\" He grins slightly, before following.