"Rosy!" groaned the lizardman, flopping his head on the table, "My mug got nah booze! -Hic-"
"Then drop yerself down. Got no more booze for ya!" replied a voice from the kitchen.
"Ah, Rosy…" the man fell on his plate, dozed.
The horse grumbled at how heavy his ride was. The rider, though, was unmindful of his horse and peered with his hand on his eyebrows. "Tis seems 'bout right!"
The rider dismounts. He, now on his hands, walks inside the tavern. The boy and his dog followed him silently, ignoring the eccentrics.
The pink door of the red tavern flung open. All the drinkers, drunkards, players and the talkers turn to see the entrant.
A five-limbed noble boy, a canine in two and a knight on his hands.
"Hoodie~! Who we got here?" called the racoon cuntant.
"Sir Sergio Felics, the slayer-", Sergio was interrupted.
"what 'bout yer sides~? The brat~ and the dog~?" interrupted the cuntant with his sing-song voice.
"Followers of mine gallantry." responded Sergio with irksome.
The tavern resumed with its usual energy. The boy and Joodle sat on the chairs that seemed sittable. A short woman with red hair approached them, holding the plates with her hands. "A mug, a bowl or a plate?" asks the woman.
"A mug and a bowl."
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Startled by the seemingly hidden voice, she looks under the table to find a man's helmed face speaking. "Twice a mug would do just right for the dry throat."
A look of confusion appears on her face but disappears quickly. She rises up and looks at the boy.
"A plate." the boy answers hesitantly.
The red-haired mistress started to go ready the ordered dishes when suddenly a fork flew just by her face, ripping the air like an arrow, to land on the wooden pillars.
She jolts back, then recovers to trace the trajectory back to its thrower. The hound's hand was outstretched and open. It had a look of clear anger. The red-haired tender straightens and asks what the dog would like? Which the dog answers by banging the table with a mug, to indicate he needed 'a mug'. The mistress hurried off.
Poor Joodle was being ignored by everyone. Even the god of this story had ignored his state when the monster chased them.
Wait, WHAT?
Joodle, I never ignored you as such!
The dog shook its head with vigor and barked thrice.
Joodle, I mean it! I men-
Oh, seems I didn't mention you for a duration of three lines…
The dog folds its hands and scowls.
Sergio spits, "Ugh, the lemon mead stinks more than it should". He held his mug with his big and index toes, and poured it down. He somehow gulped the liquid upwards his throat and was somewhat accurate at pouring the drink right into his mouth. Though, often it splattered all over the face. The bowls also followed the same ritual the mug did. The boy tried sipping the lemon mead but he couldn't, repulsed by the smell, he kept it and scaned the surroundings.
Plates were always up on the air, booze either flew around or were gulped down, laughter and words boomed everywhere and half the heads slept on the plates. At the corners though, there was surreal weirdness. A humanoid grapevine danced on the table, kicking and pushing all that there was, down. A creature that didn't quite know which habitat it belonged, wore sweater but sneezed and coughed. The other two corners had creatures indescribable continuing their activity. All had sentience, yes; but as the boy thought, lacked sanity ?
The Tavern had definitely a curious crowd for the boy, but the most curious thing he noticed was that the trees, roads and grass outside the window seemed to be built on the roof of the world. The world outside the tavern's window was inverted and summer. Clouds had cleared from the yesternight storm. The Sun peeked, a faint crimson rainbow was plastered on the clear red canvas. A smell of red and trees wafted in the air. The tetterflies have started to buzz around the town.