PART I - HAPPY TAILS
Deep in the heart of Imor’s southern worker district stands a raucous tavern called Happy Tails, which, despite the name, caters to all races, not just those with said tails. That was a rule, in fact. Anyone that made denigrating racial remarks would be stripped naked and thrown into the street. That rule was right there, posted above the bar, quite loudly. Not just in words, either, but also in very graphic pictures so that nobody could complain they couldn’t read it. And yet, at least once per week, some drunken fool was heaved into the street bare as the day they were born, their crumpled clothing thrown out after them. If they learned their lesson though, they were welcomed back another time, with a drink on the house as a way to say all was forgiven.
It wasn’t that there weren’t other taverns in Imor that blended the races, but Happy Tails wore that fact as a badge of pride. Large groups of a single race were broken up, never more than four to a table, and the host escorted their patrons to big round ones. This assured that every table would have at least two races at it, and if smaller or mixed groups, or any of the smaller races, maybe even more. Well, okay, if there were Ogres or a rare, wandering Troll at the table, it might get a little more tricky because of their size, but an effort was made, nonetheless. Somehow, it worked, and the place cultivated a large group of local regulars.
Happy Tails was owned by the unlikeliest of couples. He was a rare sight in Imor, a Mountain Orc, one of perhaps only a dozen in the city. Orcs hardly ever came to the capitals, and if they did, it was always the western capital of Valdain, which was closest to their homes in the far western plains and mountains. Orcs didn’t like non-Orc crowds, as a rule, or even people in general, and their tribes preferred to stay far away from them if at all possible. To simply see one in any town or city was rare, and to see one fully integrated into a capital’s population was almost unbelievable. Yet, every night he stood behind the bar, socializing and roaring with laughter, while mixing and pouring drinks with an uncanny dexterity for someone so big and muscle-bound. Regulars were always loudly greeted by name, and first-time customers just as loudly welcomed as a ‘new friend’. His name was Gurosk, but he insisted that everyone simply call him ‘Happy’.
As for Happy’s wife, nobody knew her name, her real name that was, and she simply went by the moniker of ‘Tails’. She was the complete opposite of her husband. Not in attitude, though. In fact, her laugh was as identifiable and infectious as his, roaring out in response to bawdy jokes, fun stories and even an occasional racial ribbing, as long as it wasn’t said with true malice. That might only require the insulter to buy a round for their victim’s table, as an alternative to being shown to the street in the buff. No, what made Happy’s wife the opposite of him was the fact that she was an Elf. It was a pairing that boggled everyone when they learned of it. Inter-racial couples were actually fairly common in Imor, so that wasn’t really the strangeness. But between the absolute rarity of Orcs, plus the obvious size differences between the two, it led to a vision that ultimately was just hard to wrap your head around, and neither had ever shared the tale of how they met.
“Jorin!” Happy’s gruff voice called out as the door opened and a trio walked in, the Orc throwing his arms wide in welcome greeting. “How’s my favorite Adventurer?”
“Hey!” Reynard called back, feigning hurt. “What about me?” There was a big grin on his face, as if this kind of abuse was common here.
Happy scoffed and dismissed the Foxkin with a flick of his hand. “He drinks more. You pass out too quickly.”
“And who is your friend?” Tails asked, walking up and hooking her arm around Reynard’s to escort him and the rest to a table.
“Him? This is Thorn. Just visiting for a couple days.”
“Well, in that case, welcome, friend Thorn,” Tails beamed.
The Elf, wearing a bright-colored ensemble, led the three newcomers towards a high table, Jorin casually taking a booster from a stack as they walked by, obviously familiar with the place. Tails moved elegantly, almost gliding over the floor, touching the shoulders of her patrons with her free hand as she passed. She’d ask if they needed anything, and if so, signal one of the servers to attend to the need. Nobody was allowed to receive bad service at Happy Tails.
“Here you are,” the Elf said. “I’ll send someone over shortly to take your orders.”
“Thanks, love,” Jorin replied, patting her hand on his shoulder.
There were three others around the table currently, a nervous Tigerkin couple, both of the yellow variety, and a male Fairy that already seemed a little tipsy. Introductions were made and smiles shone. Two more were quickly added to fill out the circle, these being a pair of male Elves that seemed a little wary of the others at first, likely new to the establishment. Soon, though, drinks in hand, everyone loosened up, properly re-introducing themselves and swapping stories. Mostly they were interested in what Jorin and Reynard had to share from their adventuring exploits, but the Ratkin, Major Thorn, had a few interesting experiences to contribute as well.
It didn’t take very long before the discussion of homelife started. The two Elves, best friends for years, were both married. Their wives were away visiting family together and ‘probably getting into trouble’, so both husbands had a few nights to entertain themselves. The Fairy was single, although courting someone quite seriously that worked at another tavern. She didn’t want him coming by when she was working, though, hence why he was at Happy Tails. He was employed by the Courier’s Guild, taking assignments to deliver messages or small items where needed in the capitals or The Nexus. The young Tigerkin couple were on a date, only their second, both blushing at the awkward newness of still getting to know each other.
“Two wives!” Jorin slurred loudly, holding up three fingers and lecturing the couple, a huge smile on his face. “That’s how many I’ve had, and now I’ve completely sworn off marriage.” He looked at his hand, using his other to force one of the fingers down, before holding up two to show everyone. The Dwarf wasn’t completely drunk yet, but was certainly going to be before very long if he continued at this pace. His mugs of ale had been spiked with a shot of stronger stuff to help him keep up with the others. “That’s right! I hereby swear I’m going to stay single for the rest of my days! Well, I will right up until I meet my next wife.” He looked around the room. “Maybe she’s here?” he added with a slight slurring.
“And you, Major?” one of the Elves asked. “Married? Or ever married?”
“Me?” Thorn said, pointing to himself. He waved the question away. “Nah. I’m career Army. Well I was. With everything so quiet, I was offered reserve status, which I guess I was ready for, because I took it. I even purchased a nice plot of wooded land a couple days to the east where I can enjoy some solitude and nature. I just came into the city to see friends and return with a few things.”
“Well, that sounds dreadfully boring!” The Elf replied, making a face. “Not the quiet country living so much, I’m envious of that, but the thought of doing it alone. People need people after all.”
Thorn shrugged the comment away with a ‘bah!’ sound. He was perfectly happy to live the bachelor lifestyle. It wasn't that he hadn’t been with his share of ladies over the years, but none of them had ever been serious. It just wasn’t, nor had it ever been, a priority for him, nor was fatherhood, for that matter, despite being a Beastkin. The Army had always come first, and now he had a chance to set that aside and enjoy not needing to be responsible for anything or anyone but himself for a while.
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“I doubt he would even know how to court someone,” Reynard prodded his friend with a grin and twinkle in his eyes. “You can’t just order someone to be with you, after all.”
Thorn made a perfectly reasonable rude gesture in response. “I would do just fine, if I were interested.”
“My friend, I’d suspect you wouldn’t even be able to work up the nerve to ask.” There was a challenge in that response, albeit a friendly one.
“Oh, that sounds like something to wager on. I’ll put out five silver crowns that says he wouldn’t have the guts,” Jorin said, holding out five fingers on each hand, his inebriated eyes lighting up at issuing the challenge. “In fact, I’ll throw another five in if she actually agrees to see him.” All eyes turned towards the Ratkin.
“And what do I need to wager?” Thorn asked.
“Nothing!” Jorin grinned. “Just the complete loss of pride as you bathe in the knowledge that you are an ineffectual coward with the ladies.”
“Ooo! I’ll get in on this, too,” Reynard grinned, stepping right up to add to the challenge. “But I get to pick the one you have to ask.” He looked up at the rest of the table. “Anyone else want to be part of this?
“I never should have come to the city,” Thorn scowled as he drained his mug and made a signal in the air. But it was too late, and around the table, as well as the next table over that had apparently overheard, bets were being placed saying Thorn wouldn’t have the guts to ask someone out, let alone have enough game to get an actual date. In fact, one of the ladies at the next table over was an active-duty High-Sergeant named Natala, visiting her parents while in the city on leave, and she was quite excited at the opportunity to see a moderately high-ranking officer fall flat on his proverbial face.
“Fine!” Thorn finally said, throwing his hands up and scowling towards Jorin. “You’ve all put enough money up against my pride that I appear to have no choice. Who?” Heads started to swivel to look around the tavern.
While the rest scouted about, a hand appeared on Thorn’s shoulder. “What can I get for you, handsome?”
“Apparently I’m going to need a lot of whatever will give me the most courage,” Thorn chuckled.
“Oh, I know just the perfect thing,” the waitress said, her eyes twinkling. “I’ll be right back.”
“Her,” Reynard said flatly as the waitress departed. “That’s who I pick. Be nice about it, though. We have to be able to come back after you leave.”
“What? Her? She’s working. Now’s not the time! And she’s probably half my age, too.” Thorn said, his eyes going wide.
“Still, I pick her. Don’t worry, she’s nice, and I know she’s not courting anyone, at least not seriously.”
From the looks around the table, Thorn realized he wasn’t going to get out of the mess he’d fallen into. Drat! He’d pondered, trying to determine how long it had been since he’d gotten flirty with someone. A few years, at least. And actually been successful at it? Five years maybe? Six? Sure, there’d been a few Midsummer liaisons, but they didn’t really count. Oh, and that one white Tigerkin, but neither of them remembered much of anything that happened that week, so that didn’t really count, either.
“Fine. I’ll at least be able to claim the first half of your wagers. I’ll make a noble attempt, but I’m far too old for her. She won’t say yes.”
“This should be fun,” Reynard said, rubbing his paws together. He then held up a paw, as if to settle any objection before it was made. “Don’t worry, my friend, I’ll behave, at least until you fail spectacularly.”
The excited tension was high as everyone around the table tried not to giggle in glee at the thought of what was to come. Even the table next door had stopped chatting so they could watch and listen in, Natala raising her mug in a teasing gesture.
“Here you are,” came the sweet voice as she set two shot glasses down in front of Thorn. They were filled with an amber liquid, with a black spot of some thick syrup floating in the middle. “Something special from Happy. He calls them Black-eyed Starshines. Guaranteed to give anyone the courage for anything. No magic needed, even. Anything else you might desire?”
Thorn held up a finger, ignoring the snickers while asking the waitress to wait a moment, before he picked up one of the drinks and slammed it back in one gulp. It was delicious and without the normal bite of hard alcohol, but he could tell it was full of it.
“Was there something else?”
Thorn coughed politely, thankful for his fur not showing his face turning red. He was a Major, for star’s sake! “I did have a question for you, Miss …” He trailed off with a hopeful look.
“Ravina,” she said with a returned smile.
“Ravina, thank you. You must forgive me for being so bold, but I was hoping you might be amenable to spending some time together, outside of your duties here?”
There was a heavy, absolute silence from both tables.
“That …” Reynard started, staring blankly at Thorn, “was the absolute worst approach I have ever witnessed. You bring great shame to our gender and to the Army and honestly to anyone that had to hear that.”
“He’s right, sir!” Sergeant Natala called over her shoulder from the next table. “That was horrid!”
“Ravina, I encourage you to slap him for that pathetic display,” Jorin added, a laugh in his voice.
Ravina for her part simply tilted her head, sizing up the Beastkin in front of her. “You’re in the Army, are you?”
“I am. Peacetime reserves right now, but yes,” Thorn answered, honestly surprised he hadn’t been slapped. It had been a pretty bad approach and he was realizing how out of practice he was at flirting.
“And she called you ‘sir’?”
“I’m a major.”
“Well, it’s not often I get asked for my attentions by a major,” Ravina said, before adding with a tease, “Usually they are at least colonels.”
“Consider me humbled, then.”
“But, you were at least polite about it, and you haven’t smacked my ass without permission tonight, like a lot of people do,” Ravina said, making a considering face. “Are you a good person?”
“I’d like to believe I’m honorable,” Thorn replied.
“Not that!” Ravina scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “What I mean is, are you any good in bed?”
Several members of the well-lubricated makeshift audience had been taking a drink while watching the shenanigans, and now completely choked at hearing that blunt question, some spitting liquid through their noses.
Despite the directness of Ravina’s question, and obviously with a great deal of help from the shot of black-eyed amber courage, Thorn grinned slyly as his flirting game finally engaged, and he managed to formulate a witty response. “Like any good officer, I am well versed in a great many tactics and formations, my dear Ravina.” The innuendo-laced statement made Reynard and Jorin groan as they covered their eyes in embarrassment. High-Sergeant Natala, on the other paw, broke down in giggles, mumbling ‘that was actually pretty good’ to her tablemates.
“Well, … oh my,” Ravina said, her eyes lighting up and lips curving into an even more-flirtatious smile. She set the serving tray on the table and shimmied up close, draping her arms around Thorn’s neck. Gazing into his eyes for a few seconds, it seemed she was trying to get a read on him. “You are indeed quite honorable,” she said after a moment, “and I’m always willing to take a chance on someone if he’s charming. I think you’ll do nicely, Major.” Then reaching up to her own neck, she untied a scarf with mixed, bright colors. “You can bring this back to me,” she added. “Meet me tomorrow afternoon in Herlin Park, at one. It’s only a few blocks from here. I’ll have a yellow parasol.” She then tied the cloth loosely around Thorn’s neck, her hands lingering as she finished.
“You’re actually serious?” Thorn said, bewildered.
“Quite so. Meet me tomorrow.”
Instantly, the giggles and groans around the tables ceased, all eyes going wide with actual surprise. It was one thing to be a little flirty or bawdy in a tavern, especially with the staff, as long as you tipped the latter extra well. It was generally all in good fun and no one actually expected anything to come of it. Thus, to signal genuine interest, the suitor would be presented a token such as this, to return to the owner later when the two could speak more privately. Thorn blinked once … twice … and then said the only thing his slightly vapor-locked brain could come up with. “Then I look forward to it, Miss Ravina.”
“As do I.” Ravina took up the tray, and was about to bounce away and back to work when she stopped. Looking at Thorn, who was smiling dumbly, she leaned in and gave him a good solid kiss on the cheek, before she turned and stuck out her bottom. “Give it a smack, if you would.”
Hesitantly, glancing at the rest of his table and then catching the wide-eyed, encouraging expression on the sergeant, Thorn gently gave Ravina’s butt a light pat.
“Hmmm,” she said, seeming slightly disappointed. “We’ll have to work on that, I suppose.”