Poster: Rory McAndrews
Post # 12
Notorious Northern Tavern
A simple nudge to the door, sending it open- drawing herself in from the
crisp fall air. A bitter chill rolled in behind her, swirling against
the walls before dissipating into the warmth of the interior. Garb of
the sand dweller overlapped the five foot four frame, the head
wrap curled against her head- only the slanted shape of silver eyes
visible. Not that she was trying to fight out the cold- merely dressing
in the cloth of her people. Boots trudged slowly over the threshold,
hands smoothing down the tan-colored robes. Palm finally settling upon
the scimitar sheathed against the hip. The hint of curves barely
noticeable beneath the vast fabric she was wearing.
Rory had left word with his brothers that he was heading north to check
out that infamous tavern for himself. Sure it was deserted, a ghost town
he was told, but that wouldn't stop him. There were names associated
with this place. Names he knew. It was a long trip even by horseback as
he rein in the stallion in front of the place. He thought he saw someone
go in but was uncertain as he gave the door a squinted eye glance before
dismounting and adjusting the saddle straps then took the reins to tie
off on the post. He'd worn a hooded cloak for the air held a bitter bite
as winter was sure setting in. He headed up the steps and to the door as
he gave a glance about, not a soul in sight as he'd been told. This
place in Rhydin had become a ghost town and perhaps for a moment
there in a vivid imagination he could hear all the noise usually
associated with such a popular tavern. Echoes of the past from stories
told before he shook his head of the notion and pressed the door open.
Even within there was a dusty tint to the air as the moonlight filtered
in through dirty windows. "Wouldn't be so bad all fixed up,"
mumbled under his breath with each step taking him to the bar sounded
like an elephant passing between the deserted walls. Wait. Pausing to
see one wrapped in strange garb, "are you real?"
Her eyes flickered in the dark of the interior, a small sigh passing her
lips. It was nice to get away from the Castle- if only for a short
respite. Palm lifted- fingers splayed before pausing. The door was
opening again, she could hear the creak of the worn hinges- a door which
hadn't been used in ages. She pivoted on the heel of her boot, stepping
off to the side with barely a creak of the floorboards. Head shifting
slowly- watching the other figure move through in silence. She eased
back, pressing her shoulder to the wall... Think... invisible.
Ha. Not her gift. She withdrew the scimitar half an inch from it's
sheath in the black sash. Thick lashes lifting- those almond shaped eyes
of silver locking on the man a moment. Then he spoke to her. She
blinked, and from behind the cowl came a mischievous smile. She wasn't
her father's daughter for nothing. A mere shake of her head given, no
words offered. She eased a little further back against the shadows in
the moon-lit Tavern.
Hands were up to lower the hood before he blinked as the one started to
withdraw a weapon. "Holy.. lord above lass," or a pretty male.
He heard about such ones in this place when it went to hell in a hand
basket. Hands before him as if to ward off an evil spirit. He was tall
for his age of seventeen, six foot four and still growing. Dirty blond
hair hung too long in his face but the back was tied off in a tail at
the nape of his neck. "Are you one of those that come through a
crack in the air then?" Lowering his hands as she abandoned the
weapon. Not that he didn't have a sword hanging from his hip beneath
the cloak, it was more he wasn't here to fight with some lass or anyone
for that matter.
It had been a defensive action- a young woman couldn't be too careful
when venturing alone. Brows furrowed slightly, and free hand rose up to
unwind the cowl from around her face. She stepped into a stream of
moonlight which filtered from the windows- youthful face. She was only a
year his junior. Sun-bronzed skin- but the odd thing with such a dark
complexion was the soft silvery white of brows- and those eyes. She
pulled the headpiece off, releasing the half curls of snow-spun silver
from their captivity. It fell well past her shoulders and to the middle
of her back. She watched him a moment longer. "You could say
that." It was barely above a whisper- not that one had to speak
loudly in such an abandoned place. The left hand pushed the scimitar
back into its sheath, though the palm remained firmly upon the hilt.
"... You travel dangerous lands." Not that she wasn't calling
the kettle black with that one... but she had her own... abilities.
Too bad his brothers were not here in this moment as he stood there
transfixed. Blink. A moonlight vision of a kind he couldn't have even
conjured up in one of his wildest dreams and he had some pretty wild
dreams. Where did that low whistle come from? From beneath the breath he
let out slowly most likely or it was the wind through a crack in the
wall. "You have to be a mirage or vision being played as a trick
under the moonlight. I wasn't aware it was dangerous here." Then
lower under his breath again, "certainly worth any danger.."
he needed a drink as he skirted around her giving all the personal space
she needed all considering her words, the place and he'd never been here
before. "I was told stories about this place," eyeing her from
the corners of his as he went behind the bar to see what was left. Most
alcohol didn't go bad. Eureka! "We have whiskey!" Pulling a
bottle as he set that on the bar, "wine," pulling up a few of
those. He ducked down to see what was on the lower shelves.
In her wildest dreams who would have thought that the great tavern, was
deserted, well almost, not hard to miss that stallion, though not one
she was familiar with right off. She might look at it later, when she
was not guiding Ears to the hitching post, first time for everything she
decided. It was now or never to start the next adventure of her life,
well Kenneth's life, he could be in for a shock of sorts, a few could
be, but that was the fun of life, shocking the buggers out of folks just
because like life she was unpredictable. Ears didn't mind stopping, he
didn't mind pulling the dray cart either, it was light work for the
draft mule. NOW to get herself off the dang thing with out falling flat
on her face. REALLY how did women do it, bundled up like a burrito ready
for eating and expected to walk gracefully.. Her cloak luckily moved
well, once her feet touched the ground, she drew a breath, well
attempted too. "Damnation how does one breathe?" She mumbled
to herself, tossing the reins on the board of the dray cart. "I'll
be back Ears, we got a gypsy to find and torture," she mused,
clutching her cloak bottom, the hood hiding her face but still allowing
her to see where she was going. Ears of course BRAYED like the mule from
hell, and well maybe he was at that ... look who his owner was! Up
the steps she went, trying to breathe and well not bust her
butt,"HELLO any body in there?" like maybe she was expecting a
spook or something, though any likelihood of that was nil with a
bellowing Mule. Pushing at the door, that creaked like something from a
haunted house,Charlie was born to the realm, the dim interior not a
problem, her eyes almost glowing under the hood and a smile unseen as
she saw one ..no two behind the bar. "HI HONEY I AM HOME" she
called gleefully, best damned entrance she could think of at the moment,
scads of material rustled, though her cloak itself was whisper quiet as
were her footsteps ...
"Too cold to be a mirage... those happen mostly in the
desert." Was that a coy smile on those pale peach-tinted lips? Most
definitely. She stood beneath that beam of light, her eyes following his
movements. There was a brief hesitation on her part, head tilting back
to look across the ceiling beams. She exhaled a slow breath, but unlike
most- her exhale cast no vapor from the chill. She turned her attention
back to the man, lips parting to speak- Eee-aw She turned to look
towards the door, fingers tightening on the hilt of her sword as she
moved from the place she'd been standing. Graceful- fluid movements
which barely cast a sound. Over towards the bar she went, seemed the man
was less of a danger to her then the stranger who'd hollered.
"Seems we've company, stranger." Still remaining out of reach,
the robes of sand-hue billowing against her form.
Did he hear the braying of a Mule? Wasn't that suppose to be wolves
howling at such a moon as borne in the sky this night? He popped back up
just as one called out from the door. Maybe they should light some of
the lanterns hanging along the walls and candles on the tables that
could use being replaced. "Careful there lass (looking straight at
Charlie), this lass here is a beauty but armed and dangerous." And
there was the beauty far closer as he stared a moment. Blink. Shaking it
off as he looked for some glasses. Now that might be a task! It looked
like he was tending for moment. The cupboards had some glasses so he
brought out a few. A cloth to clean them out with. Never knew.
"Welcome home," eyeing the other coming in as it seemed she
Blink. Blink. Did he just call me a beauty? Head pivoted slowly
in Rory's direction- staring at him a moment. She scoffed, How does
he know if I'm truly dangerous? Could be just for show! She rolled
her eyes, hand lifting upwards towards the ceiling. A small mutter of
incoherency under her breath. Shards of eyes flittered from her
wide-spread fingers, cast upon the ceiling, one on the floor in that
beam of moonlight. It was a domino effect of light which
filtered from ice crystal to ice crystal- lighting the building with a
sparkling vibrant white light. Hand dropped down to her side, unhitching
the sash slowly.
HUGE shadow she was, moving forward. "Indeed she is ..well met
stranger and lady," she gave a bob of her head, the hood still
hiding her face. "Somebody forget how to turn on the lights in
here?" Dust scattering at the swift stride even burdened by a
corset from hell, and folds of cloth beneath the ever warm bear skin
cloak, yep, something could not change. "Seems I forgot to pay the
bills eh ..how do you do .." she asked the male first, though she
knew of him the face like his father's and his brothers was
unmistakable, all the more fun for her to scare the residence with ...
That was when he broke out into a smile, McAndrews dimples and all came
in a flash. Some things never changed even passed down to the offspring.
"Name is Rory, Rory McAndrews." Pride there in his eyes and
the squaring of his shoulders. And in the darkness, let there be light
and there was light all of a sudden. Now he was blinking for the change,
just when he was getting use to the dankness. "Wow, who did
Then to the lady, well slip of a girl if height and size were any thing
to go, "Rory .. my, my ..do tell," one hand coming over the
bar, never mind the bear claw mittens, a left over from hallows eve.
"My pleasure to meet .." head tilting upwards a smile barely
visible. "Nice ... very nice," meaning the lights ...
"you?" Absently finished after a side glance to the lights now
revealing the long disuse of the tavern itself ...
"Aye, well, I do tell but I could have said Charles or Bryan and
you'd not know the difference." Joking? Of course but yet it was
actually true. Which had him eyeing the door wondering if either of them
would be coming through it. The paw was offered and he clamped both
hands over it to shake it well. Shook it too well as it came off.
"Err," the thing dangling from his fingers as he offered it
back to the lass, "this belongs to you, Missy."
She didn't offer her name, just yet. She did offer a courteous dip of
her head, various ringlets of silver falling over her face. A small coy
smile settling on her lips at the woman's words. Amusing at the very
least. She parked herself on a stool, back pressed to the wall at the
far end. Attention sifting between the two slowly. Time to mind her own.
She continued easing the vast robes off, the material beneath a shade
lighter. The white blouse which was tucked into the sandy-colored
leather pants. The knee-capped boots of black. She was dressed for an
adventure of her own- not that anyone would miss her at the Castle. She
sat back, lips forming a thin line as she looked around the Tavern in
thought. No harm to come here, she could feel it- for now.
Charlie chuckled. "oops ... sorry about that ..they are so warm you
know," her freed hand reaching to nudge back her hood, revealing a
face well sculpted. Long lashes, shimmering cheeks of rose, and lips
defined but not overly so, lips bowed into a smile that seldom changed.
The other mitten hand taking the mitten,tucking it beneath the cloak
Once the mitten was taken he clapped his hands together. Sharp sound as
he looked between the two, "now, does either of you have a name or
will it be Missy One," giving a nod to the exotic beauty and then
to Charlie, "and Missy Two," another sculptured mature beauty.
"And what would you like? I've whiskey and Rye, wine and schnapps.
Ale might be flat unless there is a keg yet to tap." Looking to see
what was left. At least there were a few clean glasses.
Again that smile brightening, almost as bright as the lights, give or
take, "I have many names, and answer to many more," tilting
her head slightly. "Whiskey will do double shot if there is enough
... Dutch courage you know," skipped out of the naming part for the
moment, maybe ...
She was trying to blind him with a smile!
He could imagine all sorts of mischievous tales told, and yet for the
moment she was well, like every one else, give her a second or two to
catch her breath, which she did, rather noisily. "I swear ... I
don't know how Lah does it," her hand going to tuck under her
cloak, and well push air in sort of ...
"... Names are rarely important unless a title belongs to
them." She shrugged a single shoulder at him, her eyes cast to the
dirtied windows, then up to the ice crystals which remained firm..
un-melting. Her eyes drifted closed.
He was eyeing her in that way for the cryptic answer, "long as
you're called to supper?" Shooting her a grin back.
"Well," hearing Missy One, "there is that or a great
hurricane, then all titles stand aside." He set out a bigger glass
and poured it half way, certainly a double shot times three. "There
you go Missy Two."
"Mmm. Boy has a sense of humor." She turned her head a little,
eyeing him from a crack in her eyelid.
Charlie nodded her head, mumbling as wayward curl from her mop piled on
her head, "there was a girl who had a curl," fingers reaching
to close around the glass, "indeed and his Da's good looks."
She agreed, let him ponder for a few while she lifted the glass and
downed it like water, the glass rapped hard to the bar.
"Damn," breath sucked in, through her teeth ...
"Peeper..." he just gave a new name to Missy One. Charlie
would have to earn hers next. "Let me see what I can find in the
back." Who knew what treasures were down this hall behind the bar.
Which he took. He would mull that over, wait, as they heard thumps
in the night coming from down the hall, did Missy Two say something
about his Da?
"... Liquor only makes a person act foolishly.." She murmured
softly. She gave a slight sniff, and reached for her discarded robes-
withdrawing the scimitar from the sheath. She traced the blade up and
down along the side of her leg, careful not to cut the leather of her
pants. Silver gaze cast down upon her feet in silent contemplation, she
wrinkled her nose a little bit- and from the back listened to the
nickering of the beast. She settled her back against the wall- legs
hitched up so feet could rest on an adjacent stool. Attention wavering
from the fleeting figure of Rory- to the woman who remained behind.
"Everything dies in time." Cryptic, but true. The small female
pivoted on her seat.
Of course she did, or maybe his numerous uncles. Charlie inclined her
head agreeing, "of course it does, however compared to my usual
..this is hardly liquor." Reaching to unbutton her throat latch of
the cloak .. "hard to believe this was once a thriving business and
full every night with people from all over," mused lightly.
Glancing about as Rory had done recalling events and times in her
memories, never mind the passing of the water trough, she had spent a
few times there as well. A sage youth perhaps, "if one is
remembered by another, no one truly dies ... " or something like
that, she was smart sometimes, though she was about to cut loose.
Hitching the hem of her cloak she twisted slightly to sit on a stool. a
small ticking sound drawing her attention to lean over, "OH DAMN I
busted a bead," colorful beads scatted on the floor beneath her hem
"In essence, though memories may serve their purpose." A small
blink of those thick lashes- eyes dropping to the noise of beads
clattering to the floor. She smiled slightly, shaking her head.
".... Wardrobe malfunction?"
Most likely a busted stitch" hitching the hem higher, revealing
knee high moccasins, and sheerling petticoat, "guess I should have
done the bead work myself." The beads were of the bear claw, the
symbol of her people, "one never knows when something is gonna go
wrong I guess," not that she would ever don a real petticoat or
shoes ..not those high heeled ankle breaking women killers ...
Something crashed down the hall followed by a few muffled curses.
Sounded like he was hopping on one foot too.
The front door swung open, letting in cold air and in came a mirror
image of Rory. Once the door was closed behind him, Charles took a few
steps inside. A dimpled smile appeared as he looked around. Amazing to
see the place he had heard so much about. And it happened not long after
those muffled curses.
Blink. Blink. Snicker. She swirled off the stool- full intention of
going to help the poor boy out- until the creaking hinges of the door.
She pivoted her weight- and twirled the scimitar in her hand. She went
stock still- those silver eyes narrowing. "... and he thought I was
a mirage." A slight squint given to the Rory look-a-like. Lips
pursed slightly, turning an ear to the cursing. Twins. Not that
it was rare- she was one of three herself. She stepped back slightly,
easing the blade back down against her thigh. Attention wavered, and
she... well... sat back down. The cursing lad in the back could handle
Okay Charlie glanced to the crash sound, then to the door that was
opened noting the lady with the blade, though she was focused on the
young male that entered, "my, my ..how did you do that?" She
mused, yeah she knew it was not Rory, because he had given his brothers
names as example ..
He was limping a little by the time he emerged behind the bar again. A
bucket with a mop in it, sponges, cleaning detergents and a few bottles.
Some were liquors, vodka, B&B, sambuka and a few others.
"Charlie!" Yelled in a pleasant surprised way.
Same blue eyes, same blonde hair and same grin. "Do what?" He
gave a blink and looked over his shoulder. "I stepped through a
door." Same McAndrews attitude.
"... Another jester." Mutter.
Never mind Charlie sitting there on a stool, with her hem hiked to her
knees, colorful beads on the floor, nor the fact that well she looked
like a lady till one saw the boots and sheerling petticoat ...
"yeah you did ..and," turned tilting her head, "you rang
Rory?" chuckling softly ... and realized that it was the brother to
whom he spoke, making her chuckle all the more ..done in by a name ...
Charlie might have answered but this Charlie jumped in surprise.
"What?!!" And then he looked at the lady. "Hey, you're
Charlie." He had heard her name before and most of the stories that
went with it.
Darn, so much for being a nameless beauty that wowed the world and
vanished in a gypsy caravan. "Guilty as charged, Charlie One Time
at your service ..maybe," if he had heard all the tales he might be
heading for safety...