The Mechanics of Peace

Chapter 7 - The Saloon

by David "Lord Davidian", posted on April 17th, 2001

Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 -
Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

       Now appropriately clad in the garb befitting the average city dweller, Delvun felt confident he would blend in with the majority of Copperville's many citizens. Of course, being an Elf in a city largely distrustful of Elves (whether they made use of the magick arts or not), his confidence was rather misplaced. The many suspicious stares and accusing whispers from passers-by told him that he was perhaps not the most welcome visitor to this great Mecca. "It is the nature of humans in particular to be suspicious and sometimes fearful of that which they do not fully understand," Delvun remembered Chief Elder Balrun warning him. "Be tolerant of others' reaction upon sight of you. In time they will come to see the true essence of you and accept you as one of their own." Delvun never really needed acceptance to survive, but it did make life a little more enjoyable.
Delvun took Balrun's words of wisdom to heart as he entered the swinging double doors of the Copper Coin Saloon. The old structure was actually well kept, but the two slow rotating ceiling fans did little to dissipate the thick cloud of tobacco smoke which choked the stale air throughout. Delvun allowed himself a slight cough, but he really had no need to fear being noticed. Every simple but solid wooden table and chair was occupied by miners who were too tired and too busy drowning their aches and pains from a hard day of meeting production quotas to give a rat's arse about some damn Elf invading their sanctuary.

       Just to his left, Delvun watched in awe as a player piano, a device he had never laid eyes upon before, spat out a catchy tune he had never heard before. "What sort of magick is this?" he asked himself in astonishment as the tune of 'HELLO MY BABY...HELLO MY HONEY...HELLO MY RAGTIME GAL...' bellowed forth from the pounding keys. To his far right, Delvun could hear a loud bell ring back and forth sharply three times. It was clearly audible even over the clamorous chattering and even louder player piano. "Last call everybody! Closing in ten minutes!" came immediately after the ringing of the bell and from the same direction. As Delvun's eyes adjusted to the hazy atmosphere, he could make out the bartender. He zig-zagged around the maze of tables and chairs to get to him.

       Even the bar itself was crowded, every hard wood stool occupied by thirsty and tired patrons. Delvun leaned into the narrow space between two of the slovenly seated patrons who were protectively hovering over their precious libations and motioned towards the bartender who was bust cleaning some glasses in preparation for closing. Before he could make eye contact, however, Delvun felt a rough hard SLAP! on his injured right shoulder; causing the long forgotten pain to resurface briefly. He nearly lost his balance from the sheer force of the blow. "What the..." he began, trailing off as he twirled around in anger to face a huge, ugly beast of a man. Though Delvun had never before seen a wild boar THIS ugly, he guessed it to be a Half-Orc based on Balrun's description. The rude Half-Orc smelled strongly of alcohol , but showed no visible signs of intoxication.

       "I don't want your kind in here! Why don't you just go back to your precious little Forest and frolic with the other dandy creatures," the belligerent Half-Orc smirked, emphasizing the last part with a powerful push that sent Delvun stumbling several feet back towards the saloon entrance. Delvun was surprised and somewhat impressed by the force of the push, being rather strong himself and never before confronting someone who wasn't an Elf.

       Delvun slowly reached down to the hilt of his longsword, but before he could even wrap his anxious fingers around it, the surprisingly dexterous Half-Orc deftly drew a rusty (but nonetheless deadly) flintlock pistol from inside his dingy brown overcoat and aimed it squarely at Delvun's temple in one fluid motion. A slight smile formed on the Half-Orc's weathered and coarse face as carefully cocked back the badly corroded hammer. This action was interrupted by the bartender, however, as he reached under the counter and withdrew a much deadlier weapon; a double-barreled shotgun!

       "If I have to tell you one more time to stop drawing that damn pistol in MY saloon, I'll see to it that you're buried with it!" the highly agitated bartender threatened as he aimed both barrels at the Half-Orc's forehead. "Now, put the damn thing away, sit down and finish your drink."

       The Half-Orc flashed the bartender a nervous look. After assessing the hopeless situation, he gave Delvun a toothy snarl as he reluctantly uncocked the rusted pistol and tucked it back into its hiding place. He then quietly went back to his table and slumped into a chair, feeling quite unsatisfied. He picked up a nearby glass and, in one angry gulp, finished the lucent brown liquid that remained. It seemed to calm his ruffled state, though he still eyed the unwelcome stranger with disdain as the bartender returned his menacing weapon to its proper hiding place under the bar.

       Delvun breathed a slight sigh of relief while thinking how useful it would be to have a firearm at hand himself. Perhaps if this mission were a success, Chief Elder Balrun would see past the stubborn laws of the village and allow him to possess such technology. For now, though, Delvun would have to make do with the archaic weapons he trained most of his young life to use with great skill. He approached the bartender once again as the saloon patrons went back to talking and drinking, disappointed by the anti-climactic stand off. The bartender casually went back to washing glasses as if nothing happened.

"Thank you for saving my life good sir!" Delvun yelled over the noisy ambience, trying to keep the busy bartender's attention and determined more than ever to get the answer he just risked his life for.

       The bartender threw the towel he was using to dry the glasses across his right shoulder and propped himself sidewise against the bar, folding his arms across his chest in defiance of Delvun. "Look stranger, I don't know who you are or why you came all this way and I really don't care. I did you a favor by saving your life. Now do me a favor and leave before you cause any more trouble in my saloon."

       "I will, I promise. But first I just need to know where I can find the Thundersmith Copper Exchange...please?"

       The bartender fumed. "I asked you once nicely! Now I'm TELLING you..."

       "I'll tell you how to get there if it will get you the hell out of here." Delvun turned to face the Half-Orc who was now much calmer since the uneventful altercation. Delvun listened dubiously as the Half-Orc spouted directions. He didn't entirely trust the words of the drunken, bigoted Half-Orc, but at the moment it was his only lead and time was of the essence