OOC: Seriously odd prodigy, a steef not covering their legs is like a person running around naked with a nazi symbol planted on their forehead and a 'Shoot me' sign on their back, if he has an ounce of common sense he'll cover those legs before going in a public place.
Sorry about not posting guys, I'll edit this post and do it tommorow as I'm knacked
![Sad](images/smilies/frown.gif)
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The Bittersweet Opple
The purply wolvark hummed and scrubbed dryly at a dark-brown wood wall, sifting some dust away. It was a nice bar, he had to admit. A nice antique wooden place with its planked wood walls, floor, open space, a long bar, round tables with carved-in patterns at the edge and cushioned seats by the bar itself. The glass was old though, the bar and wine glasses had their shine dulled off after years of use and washing. The windows were a little dusty and faded too. He should go open those saloon-style door shutters, he reckoned. The western golden sun was just coming up.
He turned his head as the saloon doors were pushed open, then swung behind the odd figure. He widened his beady eyes and peered in utter confusion at
Garit. He was wearing a round hat, an old vest, typical Western Mudos gear but...That mask, those mechanical appendages he came in on...The hell was he? Some new race of outlaw? Was he even sentient?
"What's on the menu?" The slig asked, his hat covering his red visors. He stopped gawping, then broke into a welcome smile. Those weird mechanical legs for a lack of his own...He must of been rich. He'd never seen a contraption like it.
"Well howdy mister! - ...Umm...Vykker?" He laughed nervously, obviously faked for the sake of politeness, and went to look at the kegs and machines.
"Ohh, well we got...Opple cider, bit of unfiltered water, e
XXXtra-rumsy rum, blackout liquor, expresso, opple juice for the lightweights..." He laughed in his high-pitched voice, as is he hasn't hit puberty yet, if wolvarks even had that sort of development.
He gestured with one arm and a beady-eyed smile to the kegs and bottles on display. One seemed to have a black liquid inside past the label, one was displaying three big red
XXX's in its title (He had learned that one was strong) and the cider just fizzed away next to a kid-friendly-looking bottle of juice, a cartoon opple displayed on its label. He hoped he wouldn't mind the lack of notable things on display. SoulStorm brewery had exploded, and Sekto Springs bottled water just wasn't bottled anymore. That big, gushing, unfiltered river wasn't helping things either, people would want water on their hot western days.
He gave a brief smile and wave at a clakker coming in and saying Howdy (
Billy-ray), and resumed scrubbing away. He hoped they wouldn't freak out at seeing a wolvark there. His damn race tended to be a bunch of big boys with guns and the IQ of a peanut. Only things they were good for were taxidermy nowadays, what with Sekto presumably dead. In his thoughts and scrubbing, he failed to notice a steef in plain sight (
Umber) ask for some of that thick, throat-burning Honey mead, and sneak out through a window.