RP: March 25, "Drinking Buddy"

Drinking Buddy
March 25th, 2322 hrs, Veil private quarters

For several days, it's noticeable that there's been an obvious change in Rory's behavior. A few concerned recruits, bandits and refugees, as well as two or three militia sergeants, have been heard sharing concern over what by now are clearly morning hangovers, irritability during martial training, and the frequency at which liquor and other strong drink finds its way into the young commander's quarters, none coming out. He drinks a little throughout the day, but only just.

Via rumor mill - information/spy network agents, refugees, Van, and the sergeants - this information has reached your ears, and you've begun to see notice it as well. Despite the elaborate policy on alcohol he laid out, Rory has been drinking in excess. With the raid planned for the following day, said concerns are quite obvious, but he has been quite busy with prepping the charter, bludgeoning bureaucracy, and martial training. Confirmation of a pattern of symptoms and behavior, and prioritizing your own duties and daily goals, makes this the earliest opportunity anyone has had to knowingly approach him about it.

It is after 11pm, and Rory is currently in his room. Through the door, you can hear him singing a shanty he took to while still traveling with Gwydo. A song or two has been heard through that door on other nights, usually that one shanty and/or a dirge, though only a couple times, not constantly or with regular timing.

ooc:

Having heard through the grapevine laid out above about his friend's excess drinking, Kolson is determined to see what he can do about it. Walking briskly in an attempt to shake off fatigue, for it is late after all and Kolson has had too many late nights recently, he spends a few moments listening to the human's drunken attempts to sing one of Gwydo's old sea shanties before knocking. Loudly.

Another knock is required after a few seconds of silence, after which the voice from the door says "Get back to your shift, recruit! Or go to bed if you're off-duty, whichever. Nobody awake in here. Or won't be soon, no thanks to you."

Refusing to have a conversation through the door, Kolson again knocks loudly.

The door opens, and holding it open is Rory, red-eyed and clinging to the knob a little more than is necessary for one sober.

"Oh hey Kolson, come on in. Wanna drink? Here, lemme get your favorite!" He goes to grab a bottle of ale Kolson said he liked during their visit at the Squid's Humor...but not quite. In fact, what he grabs is a liquor - somewhat similar in name, completely different in terms of content. He even gets a beer glass when pouring, offering it to the mage without a second take.

"Hello," says the red mage, somewhat subdued. Drunk people always made him nervous because of how unpredictable they could be and Rory wasn't a small man. "Thought I'd come for a visit and see what the plan is for tomorrow."

He looks around at Rory's room, looking for a place to sit.

"What, the plan? C'mon, it c'n wayt. I'm done with th' plan anyway. Here, have a drink with me, buddy! S'only one beer..." A minor moment of awareness creeps in. "An' I only got th' one chair, but you c'n sit'ere, s'fine, I'll sit on th' desk."

He holds onto the table and takes a few seconds just waiting on the edge of the desk before hoisting himself up on top of it. His shoddy success creates a jerky movement that wobbles the drink, also sitting on the desk. Some of the fluid sloshes out, flowing from the base of the glass until it drips into a puddle on the floor.

"Agh, jeez. Ah well, fin'lly got a use for th' linens left in here. Go grab one, will ya?"

drunk words:

"Sure, sure." Kolson walks over to the indicated linens and tosses one of the towels to Rory. He then walks over to the chair, pulls it out, and sits in it backwards. With his head resting on his arms, he asks, "But about the plan for tomorrow, I'd really love to hear it."

Rory shakes his head as he wipes up the spill. "Gonna take every good sword we got, go to the base and jump 'em, cry havok an' all that. There. Love it?" he answers in a bastardized summary. He takes a drink from the glass he offered Kolson, snorting a little when he realizes it's not weak alcohol.

"Don't see why you gotta hear from me about it...coulda asked Mad Thad, on watch tonight."

"Is that why you're here? You gonna tuck me in?" He giggles. "Don' worry 'bout me, I'll be fine. So have a drink or just, I dunno, get out, whatever."

"Me? I'm just peachy, doc! I know what I wanna do! I done did it, not like our fearless leader, can't decide where he wants 'all this' to go," he rants with a sweep of his hand.

"Why should I give a damn about my leadership? This ragtag bunch of sorry sacks of crap under my command'll drop like flies without me to pull 'em along. Every practice is i's own tiny war! An' i's so simple and stupid, all it boils down to, stuck-up elves throwin' stones at the ugly humans and green-as-grass recruits, an' we don't take shit from nobody. I been tryin' to shape 'em up, but I gotta handle 'em with kid gloves!"

"So let me get this straight. You think your troops are sacks of crap, so you are becoming a sack of crap so you can what, out crap them?" Kolson trails off into silence and starts rubbing the sides of his head.

Rory just laughs out loud at this. It takes him a while to stop, too. "I don't think I ever told you, I'm glad you're one of the few to stick with us. You're funny as hell, and apart from that...despite all that magic power you got welled up inside you, you're just a regular guy. You don't throw fireballs when you get TO'ed, you just talk louder. Uh, please don't start throwing fireballs."

"It's just gettin' so ridiculous," he whines, finally cracking under Kolson's persistent query. "I can't train these people. They keep wantin' to fight each other. We'd never stand a chance against the royal district, it's a wonder why they haven't bothered coming down on us. We'd be easy pickings. We'd only be a problem later. I keep thinkin', how much longer do we have before they decide we've been doing too well for ourselves?"

Kolson nods and laughs at Rory's honest compliment. "No fireballs from me I assure you, I save those for real enemies. But putting aside the matter of the troops for now that's, a good question. Almost everything we've ever tried to do, and I can't stress try enough, has always blown up in our faces one way or another. I keep looking around waiting for the other shoe to drop."

He leans over to get a bottle that's been sitting for a spell and considers opening it. "Why do ya stick with us? Deep in all this...shit, fail after fail, how does a normal guy like you keep carin'?"

Perhaps a little bit of the old Rory coming through. Through the liquor, through all these trials, allowed to surface after deciding to own up to his selfish, drawn-in behavior. How long had he suppressed this? How much different is he from the rest of the refugees who reached the mainland not more than a month ago?

ooc, answer:

"Well, you guys are my friends and I can't just sit back and do nothing as the world burns down. I live here and so do a lot of other people I care about." Kolson smiles and continues wryly, "Besides, I still have 4 more Elemental Temples to visit and I still want to restart my furniture business someday. Can't do that if you don't have any customers. Or employees. Or the means to make furniture. Well you get the idea I'm sure."

"Right...In this together, an' all that. In too deep to back out now, knowin' what we know." He puts the bottle aside. "I guess this won't be of use to you. And you've made your point, no more drinking. I mean bein' drunk. Gettin' drunk, I'm already drunk now."

With friends like these, who needs alcohol?: