Welcome to the
You walk through a door that wasn't there the first time you passed this place and find... a medieval looking bar, you look back and see still the place from whence you came. You look back to the bar and feel it, the strangely welcoming atmosphere. Before you can stop yourself, you find yourself inside and the door closing behind you. Welcome to the Red Dragon Inn, the bar that exists at the nexus of everywhere and everywhen. Where a startship captain can talk to a pirate of the Caribbean while being served by a goblin bartender.
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F'licia watched the odd behavior and smiled.
Suddenly, down the hallway, a blue shimmering orb, a 6 foot sphere of the brightest azure appeared, and through it a figure appeared, stumbling through,flames engulfing half of it, ice the other, crackling with lightning overall, smoking as if covered in acid,…
"At least satisfaction brought it back," Samanthia smiled, "Thank you." At least the guy made an effort to answer. She eyed the jukebox as it switched over to a new song. Then looking at the Guy with the star. "Law Enforcement?"
"Deputy, Doc Holiday. Though with how strange some…
The bar did have a life of it's own, closely tied to the happiness and well being of it's patron's, which, unbeknownst to its owner(s) was just as, no, more tied to their perspective of the bar. This was noted solely by a man sitting in one of the myriad…
Samanthia listened to the words of Mowgli. "Pretty much the same tenants that the Planes-walker Guild follow." She spoke softly. "I thank you for the clarification." She smiled with a gentle curtsy, "forgive my manners. I'm Samanthia. Company of the Tarrasque and of the Guild."
"So Samanthia, dit you com here by your own method or dit you get here by making wrong turn on path while riding from dose pursuing?" Volkov asked with a grin, knowing this was what his Master had meant by the Long lost Art of Conversation.