Rashar throws Trager -right- under the bus.

Rashar

Story time at Trager's Masquerade. Nobody was volunteering to do stories, and I popped off with something random about a one legged barmaid. Trager and I then decide to tell a completely unprepared story by taking turns and going off of what the last person said.

Trager clasps both hands together, his features remain firm as a twitch of excitement flickers through his eyes. "Stories!" he booms, glancing around quickly, "We shall have stories! Of battles won, of battles lost, of love found or love destroyed - We shall have stories!"

You have emoted: Rashar wrinkles his nose. "Not about that one legged barmaid, I hope? I mean, I'd say we lost that battle for sure. And in your case there was most definitely some love found, but Pit." He glances around. "Not in front of the ladies."

The corners of Trager's mouth twitch lightly as he witnesses the departure of Dhar, but firmly he presses on, "Does anyone have an-.." his voice falters as he glances towards you, "Not the one-legged barmaid!"

Voice dropping to almost a whisper, Trager Del'baeth says, "You promised!"

 "My sobriety seems to have made my lips loose," Rashar grins. "My sincerest apologies."

You have emoted: Rashar puts his hands on his hips, considering the crowd for a moment before turning his gaze to Trager. "Well," he rumbles, his voice deep but already full of mirth, "This one time Trager and I were doing a bit of traveling, and we ran into this tavern right smack dab in the middle of nowhere." He takes a few steps out and waves a hand as if indicating an invisible structure. "Now, you all know me. -I- wasn't going to 

go. But Trager there made me. Pulled my arm nearly off, he did."

"Oh yes, oh yes," Trager drawls sarcastically, eying his brother with some mixture of hate and endearment. "Of course, we -all- know how much of a womanizer I am!" He sniffs, continuing on, "My dear -brother- wished to find a few comely wenches for the night, so of course, I was drug along."

You have emoted: "Un-be-LIEVABLE," Rashar accuses, glaring at Trager. "For one, I had -no- idea there were any women in there." His hand comes up, ripping his mask back and shooting a scowl at him. A dip of his chin, a surreptitious jerk of his elbow towards Roux, and he is continuing on conversationally, "The sign on that damn house said, "The Barking Dog." Hands out, palms up, he glances at the crowd. "I just wanted a puppy," he says in explanation.

Trager snorts derisively, shaking his head in disbelief. "OH YES!" he cries, motioning towards the taller Yeleni, "Because we all know my brother much rather prefers the company of puppies and booze to warm his bed." He turns to the crowd, attempting with his smile to reciprocate some semblance of agreement. "So in we go, straight to the bar, I might add."

"So going to wait 'til you go to sleep.. punch you right in the -mouth-," Rashar hisses at Trager before turning and putting his hands on his hips. "Might I add," he says, "That it was -Trager- who found the bar. I was far too concerned with discovering puppies." He winks and takes a few steps, pacing forward as he recalls the events. "Right in the middle of perusing the wares, out hobbles this beautiful. And fellers," he wags his brows mischievously, "I do mean -beautiful- wench. Sits down right by Trager, she does."

"What he forgets to add," Trager interrupts swiftly, "Is that from the beginning this dear brother of mine had been force-feeding me shot after shot, ensuring that my inhibitions were thoroughly shattered." At this, his cheeks flood slightly and his feet shift slightly in embarrassment. "From my point of view, sprawled across the bar, she looked like quite the comely thing," he sniffs stiffly.

Meyvitch gestures to his chest with two grabby motions with his hands and a disgusted, disbelieving, "Puppies." He drops his hands and saunters over the swing, nodding knowingly to you.

You have emoted: "She was what I like to call a butter face," Rashar rumbles, grinning widely now. His eyes are light, the color of the summer sky perhaps, and his hair is damp still beneath the leather strips of his now-raised mask. "Every single part of that woman was beautiful but her face," he explains with a wink. "Anyhow, here I am minding my own business at a side table, when down goes Trager. At first I thought he fell," he mimes getting up to rush to the man's aid, "But turns out, the feller was proposing already!"

Trager sighs heavily, the palm of his hand rising up to cover his embarrassment. "You -liar-," he snarls in your direction before quickly moving to interject, "My brother evidently put this woman up to approaching me!" he booms before sighing heavily, shaking his head morosely, "To my shame, I may have agreed to keep her company for a time - BUT, she was -very- nice lady!"

Grumbling under his breath, Trager Del'baeth says, "And you best believe Rashar was over there being -smothered- by a crowd of the pretty ones."

"Keep her company for -all- time was the agreement," Rashar corrects with a 'tsk' and a waved finger at Trager. He pauses and scuffs his foot, glancing at the forest floor for a time. "Alright, so I will admit.." he cringes slightly at Trager's accusation but makes no effort to deny. "I -might- have -possibly- arranged for that lady to come scoop him up." His finger comes up. "Can you blame me? My brother is as afraid of women as he isn't of battle, you know. Why, I figured a one legged prostitute would be a good enough start."

Entranced by the story, Meyvitch calls out, "How did she lose the other leg?"

Alucardain says, "Poor Trager here proposes to a one legged prostitute and your worried about how she lost the leg."

Trager shifts uncomfortably before the crowd, leering back at you, "Mother told me that I simply had to wait for a woman good enough for me - And that she might not even -exist-!"

 "Well," Rashar rumbles as he strolls back over towards Roux, "She was good enough for one night, anyway."

Trager

Entranced by the story, Meyvitch calls out, "How did she lose the other leg?"

Alucardain says, "Poor Trager here proposes to a one legged prostitute and your worried about how she lost the leg."

 

 

I absolutely lost my shit all over again at this part. Well done, man, that was a freaking blast.

Irruel

My favourite bit:


"Keep her company for -all- time was the agreement," Rashar corrects with a 'tsk' and a waved finger
at Trager. He pauses and scuffs his foot, glancing at the forest floor for a time. "Alright, so I
will admit.." he cringes slightly at Trager's accusation but makes no effort to deny. "I -might-
have -possibly- arranged for that lady to come scoop him up." His finger comes up. "Can you blame
me? My brother is as afraid of women as he isn't of battle, you know. Why, I figured a one legged
prostitute would be a good enough start."


(Duiran): Dhar says, "Please congratulate Trager for being named as the first Paragon of the Cycle.
May his ambition be an inspiration to all of you."