The Simple Barkeep

The Innkeeper Rules!

Seravwyn pursed his lips and internally screamed, seeing that the Draenei he had met was certainly not kidding about having a friend to send his way. The San’layn was anything but impressed, recalling that the woman he had run into earlier just wanted to send this enigmatic human to him for the sake of frustrating him.

“Oh, yes, of course. The name’s Morrison Whitaker, traveling brew salesman and merchant. Oroeiev made it a point yo have valuable sales advice, or some sort of sale, or… was she lying? She most likely was lying, wasn’t the scoundrel?” Morrison scoffed, setting his bags back on the cart in disappointment.

“I’ve known her for quite some time now, I’d say the better part of two years, although,” he said, noting the ears and death-like appearance. “that probably means nothing at all to you. She’s a good friend, if not an untrustworthy one.”

Morrison thought the man’s laugh was ominous, and he shivered before the elf calmed down. He answered sheepishly with a ‘yeah?’ after Sera’s first comment. “Sleazy conman’s advice noted. Addendum: Made several thousand gold on the way up here. I do think they like my homemade brews. Although I did nearly get killed a few times, and that wasn’t pleasant.” He added, muttering, “I don’t want to see my mother or join an undead army anytime soon.”

The curly, copper-haired human wiped down the bar with a soft rag. He’d just come back from a three-month hiatus, and everything in the Keg was dusty! Hadn’t he hired that mutt to do something? Apparently not, since it had three months worth of dust!

He set to cleaning the plates and cooking up some fresh food for the few arrivals that might arrive, so he cooked himself something he’d eat just in case no one actually came. It wouldn’t be much of a surprise, really. He did leave without warning, but he didn’t mean to leave for so long.

Seravwyn pursed his lips and internally screamed, seeing that the Draenei he had met was certainly not kidding about having a friend to send his way. The San’layn was anything but impressed, recalling that the woman he had run into earlier just wanted to send this enigmatic human to him for the sake of frustrating him.

“Oh, yes, of course. The name’s Morrison Whitaker, traveling brew salesman and merchant. Oroeiev made it a point yo have valuable sales advice, or some sort of sale, or... was she lying? She most likely was lying, wasn’t the scoundrel?” Morrison scoffed, setting his bags back on the cart in disappointment.

“I’ve known her for quite some time now, I’d say the better part of two years, although,” he said, noting the ears and death-like appearance. “that probably means nothing at all to you. She’s a good friend, if not an untrustworthy one.”

The curly, copper-haired human wiped down the bar with a soft rag. He’d just come back from a three-month hiatus, and everything in the Keg was dusty! Hadn’t he hired that mutt to do something? Apparently not, since it had three months worth of dust!

He set to cleaning the plates and cooking up some fresh food for the few arrivals that might arrive, so he cooked himself something he’d eat just in case no one actually came. It wouldn’t be much of a surprise, really. He did leave without warning, but he didn’t mean to leave for so long.

Morrison stood at the edge of the long-forgotten kingdom. Forgotten except for the few people who made their stay in the time swept lands. The sun was setting into what seemed like eternal Twilight.

It had only been three years. Three years since he had given in. It had been hard to relinquish his sanity, his free will, but he eventually gave in. To friends and colleagues, he had been lost for roughly this time, as well.

His eyes were a glossy black, like tumbled onyx. Thin, black tendrils had crawled up his arms in a permanent stain. Small thorns rose from his shoulders. 

The silithid ignored him, used to his presence. This was his fifth expedition in the past year, called upon by one of the sleeping Gods. He held in his hand a thin katana, black-stained like his arms in thin, curved lines. He wore only black trousers, showing off his muscled back but thin build.

 Cellys sighed in exasperation before she stared up from the now empty mug of ale. “I don’t know what you expect me to tell you.”  She seemed to forget entirely that she had finished the drink, since she tipped it back and slammed it back onto the counter. 

“If I tell you about the Light you’ll have all these questions. Ones that I don’t particularly care for. Perhaps if I weren't stranded on this— where are we again? No wait, it doesn't matter.” Against the woman’s better judgement, she pulled her cowl down, the green gaze boring into the man. “Fine. What is it you wish to know? Since I won’t find what I’m looking for, you might as well.” 

She’s looking for something? He hadn’t known, otherwise he surely would’ve helped her. He frowned, wanting to help, but the conversation had steered towards him, so he might as well ask.

“No. Not exactly. The Light is nothing more than a force – I suppose? It is what comes about from the evils of the world. It is their complete opposite, it is not always black and white, but forever changing. Na’aru?” She asked with an amused smile and pointed to the top of her head, “I have no horns, you’d be better off asking a Draenei about the Na’aru.” 

Before answering the man’s next question, Cellys took a swig from the refilled mug, “Do you not believe in the Light?”

“So, the Light is created as a balance to evils, no matter how little, great, or grey-ish in morality?” He could understand that. Morris loosely believed in a moralistic karma, but he could at least comprehend a more tangible version.

Lydia pushed her way through the crowd of Alliance and Horde patrons, the bar was really swinging tonight. After minutes of pushing, she finally made it to the bar counter. “Whew…it’s so busy tonight, this is madness..” she tried to wave the bartender down.

She guided him through a building, brushing past blue curtains, then exited out through a zig-zag pathway. Out in the open, she tugged at his arm, walking on the old amethyst ground until they reached a small house. She opened the door and ushered him in.

He entered the house and noted the architecture and the knick-nacks, the stuff about and the furniture. The light sources and what was beneath his feet. It all interested him, and he made note of it, for he hadn’t had much time in the city to do so.

Lydia pushed her way through the crowd of Alliance and Horde patrons, the bar was really swinging tonight. After minutes of pushing, she finally made it to the bar counter. “Whew…it’s so busy tonight, this is madness..” she tried to wave the bartender down.

Lydia pushed her way through the crowd of Alliance and Horde patrons, the bar was really swinging tonight. After minutes of pushing, she finally made it to the bar counter. “Whew…it’s so busy tonight, this is madness..” she tried to wave the bartender down.

Lydia pushed her way through the crowd of Alliance and Horde patrons, the bar was really swinging tonight. After minutes of pushing, she finally made it to the bar counter. “Whew…it’s so busy tonight, this is madness..” she tried to wave the bartender down.