#posiongil

He side-eyed his companion. The tall woman was leaning back against one of the tent poles, arms crossed, a look of disinterest on her face. He opened up the tent flap a little wider for her, narrowing his eyes.

“Ain’t no tickets going to sell themselves out there either, Yasha.” He said, making an exaggerated theatrical gesture towards the muddy field. Rain from the top of the flap trickled down the side, hitting him on the shoulder. He lowered the flap a little and glared at the newly-formed wet spot on his brightly coloured coat.  

“Well, Bo says we gotta sell them anyway.” Yasha replied, shrugging, pushing herself upright onto her feet. “And for one reason or another, he specified I am not to go alone.”

Mollymauk grimaced, thinking back to the times Yasha had tried to sell tickets on her own to unsuspecting townsfolk. Threatening was the term that came most forward in his mind.

“You’d find you’d have more luck with it if you would take the effort to get acquainted with a little art called subtlety.” He replied. Yasha looked past Mollymauk, her eyes finding the gray, swirling mass of clouds high up in the sky.

“Yet, here we all are knowing that subtlety is not my strong suit.” She said, planting both of her massive hands on either side of Mollymauk’s shoulders, who frowned. “And, I think we also know that Tieflings aren’t made of sugar.” She started pushing him forward.

Realizing the futility of fighting back, yet not necessarily wanting to give her an easy win, Mollymauk let himself deflate. He leaned into Yasha’s grip while sighing, exasperated. His boots slid on the muddy ground and he quickly shielded his eyes as the rain started lashing at his face when they emerged from the tent. A handful of townsfolk were moving across the field, hurrying from one destination to another, though most were giving the large, flooded area around the tents a wide berth.

When it became clear that Yasha would push him all the way into town if necessary, Mollymauk ducked away from her grip and straightened up. Glaring, he lifted the sides of his collar in a futile effort to protect at least some parts of him against the rain.

“Well, if that is how you are going to play it, I guess we can tour some of the taverns around the square. At least that will be a much less dreary endeavour than getting washed away in this wretched place.” He flashed the barbarian a quick, dazzling white smile. “Although I make no promises about actually selling tickets. I think we’ll find that not even my handsome self can convince these people to leave behind the warmth of their hearths or the comfort of their drinks to come watch a bunch of strangers in a wet tent.”

“Oh, you should use that pitch. That’ll definitely sell them.” Yasha replied, looking unimpressed as she shouldered past him. Mollymauk rolled his eyes at the reply but soon followed behind; while the barbarian was blunt, direct and uncompromising, somehow the subtleties of sarcasm were clearly not lost to her.

—

They stared at the tavern sign hanging outside a particularly shady looking establishment. It displayed a mermaid lifting one of her three tails in an inviting manner, enticing a young sailor who had for some reason or another lost most of his clothes. The artist clearly had only a crude understanding of the concept of mermaids. Or anatomy.

Mollymauk tilted his head, squinting at it.  “Lovely.”

Next to him, Yasha grunted a vague reply. She looked doubtful about going inside, but Mollymauk put on a smile. He cheekily popped the lapels of his coat and began walking backwards towards the tavern, wiggling his eyebrows beguilingly at Yasha.

“Come now, Yash. We have had no luck with any of the more ‘high-end’ establishments, and in a place like this we might actually find some people desperate enough to pay for a little entertainment!”

Yasha’s facial expression didn’t change as she started after him, clearly not caring enough to make any sort of fuss. Mollymauk spun around and triumphantly pushed open the faded, wooden door of the tavern. It protested loudly under the stress.When Mollymauk’s eyes adjusted to the much darker interior of the tavern, he noticed most of the patrons staring in his direction, drinks still in hand. Apparently he had succeeded at making an entrance. He immediately flashed a big grin and dug around in the left coat pocket for his flyers.

They were all sopping wet.

He closed his hand around them, balling them up, and subsequently chucked them over his right shoulder in one swift movement. Useless. Despite this little hitch in his plan, his dazzling grin didn’t falter as he scanned the patrons inside.

The tavern wasn’t large. In one corner a small counter was located, surrounded by a handful of dark wooden stools, while the rest of the common area was filled with a couple of simple wooden tables of different shapes and sizes. There were a couple of elderly individuals sitting at the bar; somehow all managing to drink alone together. A few of the tables were also occupied.Two middle-aged men set together in in one of corners, both with unshaven faces and wearing an assortment of dark leathers. They looked far from friendly and Mollymauk made a mental to leave them alone.A couple of tables across from them sat a male and female gnome, clearly travellers, both in the middle of consuming some sort of stew. They looked like they had most likely ordered the meal so they could spend some time inside in order to avoid the worst of the weather and perhaps dry out their clothes.Next to them all alone at a single table was some sort of servant girl. She had curly, brown hair cascading over her shoulders and she was nursing a large pint. She was no older than twenty, but looked curiously at ease in this type of environment.Finally, seated in the other corner of the room was a small, mixed group of people whose reasons for being here were harder to pin down. Mollymauk discerned a couple of humans, a dwarf and what was potentially a half-elf. He had to admit, all in all, it didn’t seem like the most welcoming of crowds.

He looked at Yasha from the corner of his eyes, his resolve briefly faltering. She raised an eyebrow at him, clearly communicating her doubts about his business decisions. Somehow the look only seemed to fan the flames of his determination, and he swiftly stepped inside.

Smelling trouble, the barman - a plump, somewhat weathered-looking individual with a balding head and a unkempt, black moustache - loudly cleared his throat.

“What do you guys want then?”

So this would be harder than expected, Mollymauk realized. There would be no going around to the different tables and convincing individual patrons to part with their hard-earned money in return for the promise of good entertainment. However, he still had some other tricks up his sleeve.Still smiling, Mollymauk placed his right hand over his chest in an effort to communicate both his mock hurt at the unwelcoming words, and to underline the honesty of what he was about to say:

“Why, nothing but to sample your magnificent brews, my good man! I’ve heard they’re some of the best in the city. Will knock you for quite the loop, they say!”

One of the older gentleman sitting at the bar, completely bald and with grey hairs poking out from his large ears, peered suspiciously at the barman in response to Mollymauk’s declaration.

“What? They talkin ‘bout your beer, Fred?”

One of the other men at the bar piped up; “Well, I don’t know ‘bout no magnificence, but he’s got stuff that mighta knock your teeth right out of your skull, if that’s what you fellas meaning.”

All taverns like this usually had some borderline illegal homebrews behind the counter, Mollymauk knew from experience. It seemed he might have hit the jackpot here. “Well,” The tiefling said, closing the gap between him and the bar while Yasha hung back a little, “that certainly sounds like the type of stuff we would be interested in.”

He gestured towards Yasha and himself, speaking a little louder than absolutely necessary. “We’re a traveling troupe you see, and we make it a habit to sample all the best brews from all four corners of Wynandir, don’t we Yasha?” Mollymauk leaned against the bar, nodding towards his companion while from the corners of his eyes quickly scanning the rest of the establishment. Good, he thought; it seemed most of the clientele were now watching him, bemused and clearly interested in anything that could break the monotony of the tavern’s usual ambience.  

“Oh. Yes. That’s us. We do love ale.” Yasha deadpanned, and Mollymauk almost winced.

“You circus folk then?” The young woman sitting alone at one of the tables asked, her tone curious but a little guarded. She took another swig of her drink, waiting for an answer. One of the people from the group sitting in the corner also spoke up; “I think I might have seen some of folks setting up just east of the city. That you lot?”

“Yes, yes… But that is not why we are here, we are here to sample some of your finest, dear man.” Mollymauk answered, waving away the comments while turning back towards the barman. ‘Fred’ took a moment to carefully study Mollymauk’s appearance; his bright hair, the fancy clothing, the flashy jewelry. He frowned at the smiling tiefling, entirely unconvinced.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard, mister, but I don’t think my, hm, professional brew would entirely agree with you.”

“Nonsense! I’ve come all this way to try it, so try it I will!” He plunked down a handful of copper pieces on the counter with a satisfying sound. Homebrews usually weren’t that expensive around these parts. They were a side-hobby sold only to the most curious of patrons. Or the most suicidal.

The barman counted the coppers, his business sense overtaking his personal concerns, and he shrugged.

“Well, if you insist.” He bent down behind the counter and rummaged around.

Yasha approached Mollymauk from behind, folding her arms. The barman emerged with two unlabeled bottles, removed the cork from one of them and began filling an average-sized glass with it. The liquid frothed. It was a deep, dark colour, appearing almost black, with a brown foam layer on top.Setting the second bottle behind on top of the counter, the barman slid the filled glass over towards Mollymauk, who eyed it suspiciously for a second. He wasn’t completely sure what he had expected, but this drink didn’t even look like it would qualify as a beer. Not much use in back-paddling now, though. He smiled, swooped the glass off of the counter and downed the drink in a few large gulps. Everyone at the bar stared at him carefully.

A foamy, intense sourness spread across his tongue, rattling his teeth. As he swallowed, a deep bitter aftertaste followed. Somehow, the liquid burned all the way down his esophagus. He had tasted whiskeys that were less intense than this. He didn’t know what was in this drink, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t just hops and barley-malt. Eyes watering, he suppressed the urge to cough and instead nodded, cleared his throat, and renewed his smile.

“Ah, yes. Lovely. Just as advertised.” He said, relieved that his voice at least didn’t betray his feelings as he began doubting every decision that had led up to this moment. From the corner of his eyes he could see the young woman sit up and the two gnomes whisper something to each other. The older gentlemen at the counter exchanged glances.

“Now, if you don’t mind, one for my lovely lady friend. I don’t think I would want to deprive her of this experience.” He licked his lips and winked at Yasha, who narrowed his eyes at him but didn’t interject. The barman opened the second bottle and poured another drink. Yasha uncrossed her arms and took the glass, easily finishing it off in a few seconds flat. She let out a small belch, slammed the glass down and looked thoroughly unaffected. The gentlemen at the bar murmured excitedly at each other and the barman looked impressed.

“Well thank you gentlemen, for the drink. I can say it is truly one of the more unique brews we have had the pleasure of sampling along our journeys. I would love to stay to have another, but unfortunately my pouch is not as large as my thirst for rare ales.” He bowed to his audience. “Rest assured we will sing your brew’s praises in other cities, however, as we will move on tomorrow.”

“You actually want another one?” Asked one of the older gentlemen, incredulous.

“Why, I don’t think I’ll be able to get the taste quite out of my mind tonight!” Mollymauk grinned, teeth aching.

One of the other patrons at the bar leaned forward excitedly. “I haven’t seen anyone just down Fred’s homebrewed ales like that before!” He eyed both Mollymauk and Yasha in awe. The large barbarian folded her arms again, staring down at the enraptured men in amusement.

“Alas, we must leave it at this. I hope this will not affect my performance tonight, as I’m sure I’ll be thinking about these unique flavours for the rest of the evening!” Mollymauk said, holding up both hands while shrugging. All the men at the bar quickly turned towards the barman.

“Oh, come on Fred, give ‘em another one!”

“Yeah!”

Multiple declarations of agreement were thrown around, and Fred the barman looked hesitant under the barrage, eyes darting from one to the other. However, Mollymauk adamantly shook his head from side to side, making sussing motions with his hands.

“Oh, no no no. Ale is this man’s livelihood, just as entertainment is ours. We can’t just take advantage of the man’s generosity like that.” He said sincerely. “We simply have no further coin to spend, so unfortunately it will have to stay at one drink for us.”

The men slunk back a little, murmuring disappointedly among each other. Mollymauk noticed the barman frowning at this sudden change in atmosphere: disappointing customers was a quick way to lose out on further business during the rest of the evening. Right on cue Yasha spoke up:

“True, we have no coin, Molly. But perhaps another type of trade could be made?”

Mollymauk snapped his fingers in response, appearing as if he had just had some great insight. “Why, dear Yasha, what a wonderful idea! Perhaps that would be possible indeed.” He smiled at the barman who, hearing the renewal of excited whispers around him, clearly now had had his interest piqued.

“Although it would feel wrong for us to simply take advantage of your generosity, good sir, perhaps an offer of some free entertainment would be a reasonable bargain in return? Like a free ticket for tonight’s performance perhaps, in exchange for another round of your finest?”

“That’s a fair deal!” One of the men called out, slamming his hand on the table. Another man leaned across the counter towards the barman, grinning; “Well, come on Fred! Give the man what he wants. And you certainly deserve some relaxation as well. We all know you work too hard!”

Hearing the excitement in the room, the barman slowly nodded. “Well, that does seem a fair deal.” He smiled at Mollymauk. “And I can’t say I am not interested in seeing you down another one of my ales. It is hard to find true enthusiasts like you lot around these parts. So, why the heck not!” A loud chorus of cheers erupted around him.

“Excellent!” Mollymauk replied, grabbing a stool and sitting down behind the counter. He could see in his periphery the male gnome elbowing his companion. Both of them grabbed their plates and got up to move towards the counter, apparently curious and wanting to get a better view of any further shenanigans. The young woman too was moving her stool closer, and even the group in the corner was clearly discussing the current scene amongst themselves.

Mollymauk grinned. All was going well.

—

Bo looked up, flicking up his hat from his face with one of his fingers. Feet up on a barrel, he had been lightly dozing just underneath of the entrance to the central tent. So far there had been no customers to speak of, so he had taken the time to instead try to catch up on some sleep. However, he had been stirred from his slumber by some distant singing and cheering. Curiously, the noise was getting closer.He unfolded himself from his chair and peered outside, looking in the direction the sounds were coming from. At the beginning of the field he could see Yasha unceremoniously sloshing through the water towards him, carrying Mollymauk across her right shoulder. Behind her, two dozen or so people were following, singing and laughing. From the side-streets people were observing the small crowd approach the tents. Every now and then a new person hurried from between the buildings to join the rabble, apparently curious to see what all the fuss was about. Bo simply stared.

Yasha soon approached, coming to a standstill in front of him. Mollymauk, hanging from her shoulders, seemed to be barely conscious.

“Hello Bo.” She greeted.

“Hello Yasha.” He looked past them at the ever-growing crowd accompanying her. Most of the people were taking care to walk around the puddles Yasha had ignored. However, some took the same route, apparently not caring enough to avoid such small inconveniences. Bo was pretty sure he saw a dwarf stumble and fall head first into the water, but it appeared he was quickly pulled upright by some of his companions, all laughing.

The half-orc lifted up his hat and scratched his head. “What’s all this then?”

Yasha followed his gaze. “Customers.” She replied, a small smile flickering across her face. Mollymauk stirred under her grip, muttering something unintelligible.

“Really?” Asked Bo, slightly impressed. He quickly shot a look at Mollymauk, raising his eyebrows. “And how, pray tell, did you both manage that?”

“Well, you know how it is,” Yasha answered, “I think some drinks were had. Some bets made.” She patted Mollymauk on his back in a friendly manner. “And I distinctly remember Molly standing on a table, daring everyone in the room to come watch him juggle swords.”

“Hmm-hm.” Bo said, eyeing his two friends with some scepticism.

“Honestly, I think most of them just came along to watch a drunk Tiefling fall on his face tonight.” She said, looking out over the growing crowd. “And the rest might have shown up as we were making our way through the streets. I think Mollymauk was singing at one point.”

Bo clapped his hands together as the first people started reaching them, grinning. “Well, I guess we better sober Molly up a little then! How about you bring him to Orna while I go and fetch the others, hm? It appears we’ve got some tickets to sell.”

Squirming on Yasha’s shoulder, Mollymauk raised his head and looked around slightly dazed. Bo clapped him on the shoulder, and the movement seemed to jostle the tiefling; a brief, pained expression fluttering across his face.

“Nice work, Molly! Go clean up, apparently you’re going to be part of the show tonight!” The half-orc laughed. “You could’ve warned me, you know, I would have had Desmond prepare some music for your act. But I guess we’ll improvise!”

Mollymauk blinked. Bo nodded at Yasha and then turned around to start corralling people towards the entrance of the big tent. He grabbed a little chest filled with both tickets and change from just inside the entrance and set it on the rickety, wooden table out front. He soon started handing out ticket stubs to the enthusiastic crowd as they pressed in around him.

Yasha briefly watched the half-orc doing what he did best while readjusting Mollymauk on her shoulder. The tiefling gave no protest at the jostling, seemingly preoccupied with some other thought. Yasha started walking towards one of the smaller tents in search of Orna. The rain had slowed to a small trickle now, and she noticed Mollymauk’s confused expression as he stared at her boots splashing in the muddy ground. His eyes seemed to get a little more focused with each passing step however. There was a moment of silence between them. Then Mollymauk suddenly looked up at her sharply, panic in his eyes.

“Wait… I’m doing what?”