Beer Khazad and Calzones

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Set in the comfortable village of Vadran, Stoneworks' Calzone is a staple of the local economy. The small stone building sits off to the side of a main pathway, and smells of spicy meats, mushrooms, and garlic. Inside the building are a set of thick, farmers-made slat tables, complete with long benches. Lighting is provided in the traditional khazad-aul way, by mushrooms and tamed lichen placed in glass sconces along the walls. 

Aside from its roaring fire, one of the busiest places at Stoneworks is actually towards the back--a window into the kitchen's prep room, with its own bar of heavy stone. From here, the call of "Order up!" is heard. Near that is the main kitchen door, from which Stoneworks' well-known calzones emerge, straight from the sturdy, wood-burning stove that fires them to cheesy perfection. On the menu are all the essentials, from varieties of in-season meats, to traditional, khazad mushroom fare, and from the local fields, root vegetables. A variety of khazad-aul breads may be ordered, lending their own unique and clan-proud flavors to the calzoney goodness.

The establishment is run by Embma and Jaruda Shaletracker, and their small clan, cousins, visiting cousins, and extended family. No matter the weather or season, there are khazad-aul of all ages about, and stonebeasts in the rear stables, chewing on the occasional gemstone treat.

EXTRAS: +view 

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Dubtle A pale-skinned Mountain Dwarf with a long, long beard 34s 1d

Fazahd A brawny youth with a hawk nose and grim expression. 5m 14m

Hildr A red-haired Khazad druid. 1m 16m

Khogh Dorahl A khazad dressed in hunter's clothes. 0s 4h

Lysa Honey blonde hair. Beautiful and fit Young Woman. 2m 3h

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Out <O> 

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EVENTS: Beer Khazad and Calzones is scheduled to start RIGHT NOW!

Astaren has arrived.

Embma Shaletracker normally spends her time near the ovens, but today the khazad-aul woman stands in the fore of the restaurant, her hands on her hips and flour in her hair. Her proud mane is bound tightly in a braid. Had been, this morning. By now, stray bits fly all over the place.

"Alright! Right, every bread we have pays honor to one of the clans. Forgeiron for True Hammer, straight enough."

"Mastersmake for the Master Builders," her husband, Jaruda chimes in. He's behind the orders counter, as usual. HIS hair is flour-dusted, too.

"An' three, solid styles of fillin."

"And three beers! But thanks to you all, business has been steady! To celebrate that, we're going to add another beer to the menu! Now which--"

And all hell breaks loose. That's when you come in.

Fazahd has disconnected.

Astaren is making his way in, and stops dead in his tracks. "Huh, wah?" blinking a moment and glances around, "Err a table for one?"

Dubtle is /totally/ here.

And happy.

There is /food/, y'see, and he is quite good with alcohol. And food. An then hell is breaking loose and, well...

Someone heard there was voting and drinking and beverages tonight. So Lysa prepared in advance. She brewed up a cask of her favorite blend. Golden Apple Mead. The liquid looks like molten gold. Yes, opaque. What? She's also a minor dabbler in alchemy.

The cask is transported on a small cart and then she rolls it inside. After all, she needs to showcase her brew if she wants to get onto the menu, right? She spent -time- making sure she did the job right after all. She rolls the cask. "What you need here.." she says as she rolls the cask in, "is MEAD!" and she stops, taking the time to right her cask...

Curious to see what the Stoneworks had planned for the special event, Hildr made her promises to the bear currently sacked out by the horse trough outside, took a table near the door, and waited for the night's entertainment. Luckily, she didn't have to wait long, and as all hell breaks loose and a wizard creepis in *asking* for a table, the redheaded Khazadi druid turns to the poor longshanks. "'Table for one?'" she chuckles. "Now here's how it works an' I'm gonna tell you; y'find an empty chair, y'plant y'butt in, an' that's your table for one."

Astaren reaches up and rubs his head, 'Wait what, things changed? The last two times I have been here I have always been directed to a table and given a menu. Calzones I think. Was in the area, figured I would stop by. Something going on?"

"I gotcha," Knogh says. She pushes herself off a table to see to Astaren. The scout wears the Stoneworks' cloth smock, today. Like the rest of family--and extended family--ya gotta pay the rent.

"HRODNI'S BEST BITTER!" shouts a bearded warrior. He thumps his fist on the table in front of him. "All tha stuff here's too SWEET!" It draws a few nods.

"Don't go insultin tha Shaletrackers!" counters another, across the room. It's accompanied by another THUMP! and a grumpy hear-hear! "Not unless you're willin ta put up better!"

Knogh ducks under, jogging to Astaren's table. "What would you--" she starts to ask, before her uncle beats her to the punch.

"Dubtle! Git yer lazy bum together and help yer cousin!" Jaruda bellows above the den. He jabs a thick finger towards Lysa. Hildr? Well, the staff knows Hildr. Her calzone's plopped down in front of her--a Duin-mushroom filled meats piece, with oomchil spice. The sauce runs to the edge of the plate, but not down it.

"Khazadi politics," Hildr shoots back with a grin, settling herself better in her chair and taking a drink.

Dubtle has reconnected.

With her cask righted, Lysa reaches over and cracks the cask open. She reaches into her pack and pulls out a tankard and a ladel. Gotta love haversacks. Either way, she dips the ladel into... the apparently room temperature molten gold and pours a dose into her tankard. "Free sample! Golden Apple Honey Mead!" Yep, just the hint of apple and honey there turned bitter to a degree. It's mead, not juice after all. "Any takers? This needs to be on your menu too!" she adds.

Astaren finds himself a table in the very back away from any of the groups as best he can. "this is crazy." A glance to Knogh, "Umm water, and a vegtable calzon with beef." Keeping it simple he hopes. Looking around, "Business is picking up."

"Mt. Kharmen Porter!" Hildr roars from her table, bobbing her head in thanks as her calzone is set in front of her. "Let's get us a beer dark enough t'hide *gold* in!" Her vote cast, she starts applying herself to her food, clearly enjoying the spectacle of a restaurant full of shouting Khazadi, and one longshanks flogging mead.

"We're settlin on a new menu item," Knogh says. She swipes a pepper shaker from a nearby table, and drops it on the table with a well-practiced thud. Looks to Hildr, then the crowds. "...if I distract Weatherspuns, do you think you can make it to the order counter, cousin?" she asks her.

Near Lysa, the scene is yet more lively. As soon as the woman brings out the tankard-- "She's got mead!" goes out, and LOUD. Soon, half the crowd's surrounding Lysa. Comments come her way, and discussion breaks out. That is, a NEW discussion.

"I'm still for Hrodni's!" says one of them. He sounds as stubborn as well, a khazad.

"You've never had Horstedding. It's tha only reason you're saying that," rejoins a woman next to him, before looking to Lysa. "Golden Apple? Tell me about it?" A few others nod.

"Dubtle!" that's Jaruda. He points towards Dubtle with two fingers, then his own eyes, then back to Dubtle. Well, it IS Dubtle...

Dubtle has partially disconnected.

"Think if they want someone on hand t'keep the sheep dip from goin' wrong, they'd *better* move out," Hildr grumbles in answer to Knogh, levering herself off her chair and dropping to the ground. "Good thing there's free mead keepin' the crowd off, let's have that order then."

Happily ladeling out mead to accepting tankards, Lysa speaks more calmly. "Just the hint of apple tartness to balance the honey in the mead. It is being from the stories of my people, the gods eat the golden apples to maintain their immortality." She ladels another sample out and shrugs, "Besides, if you have a -variety- of flavors and options here, you will sell more overall, right?!" she calls out to the group as a whole once more.

"Tonight /is/ different," says dubtle to Astaren, cheerfully, before he gets to work and does as asked. His head is not in a book for a change and he seems happy enough to help.

Jaruda is just getting an eye roll, this time!

Astaren shrinks back in his chair not sure how to take the crowd, "I... you don't have thse kinds of scenes in Rune. The wizards bar is far more calmer, with the occasional illusion or transmutation spell." looking to Dubtle, "Come here often? Havn't we met before?"

"That Kharmen Porter's a good'un," says a weathered-looking khazad within hearing distance of Dubtle and Astaren. Old Weatherspun folds his fingers together over his belt. "Now, I remember the day..." Oh, good. Now they get to hear a STORY.

As the old khazad begins to talk, it seems a donkey is involved.

"Queen's Borderland!" roars another. She brings her fist down on a table, three tables over. Knogh eyes her, then nods to Hildr--and jogs in to distract Weatherspuns.

"Yeah, yeah. And you're always goin on about Hrodni's, Volkhof, and Weatherspun's always goin on about his ass," Knogh says to the older khazad. SUBTLE. That's the word. Khazad are SUBTLE. Weatherspun harumphs at her, before sending a sideways look at Astaren and Dubtle. Maybe THEY want to hear about his...

"Maybe you ought ta try the mead over there?" she adds, fast.

"Dubtle if you do not give that poor woman a hand," Hildr says, rolling up her sleeves, "I will tell Flint that you keep beehives in your boots. If I gotta shift my weight, so d'you." And with that, she starts clearing a path, Khazad-aul rules. Lots of elbows in ribs and rough shoving are involved.

Astaren has one of his books pulled out of his habersack and is writing, "Can you repeat that part about the donkey?" Clearly very interested in the story. "Oh mead? can't stand the stuff, the water I asked for will do. will make my own tea."

"Oh yes! We've met," says Dubtle to Astaren, cheerfully. But he does move to help that poor lady in question. "Sheesh. So pushy," he complains.

"That's right folks. Bring your tankard, mug, or whatever you want to drink out of, and get your free sample of Golden Apple Mead!" offers Lysa as she continues giving away what she brought with her. She's about a third of the way through her cask already. Yep. But hey, she's happy to give stuff away. "Anything -this- popular could make you gold if put on the menu!" she adds out at a high volume.

"Hers don't look like a--"

"Shut it, Volkhof," Knogh says, and her aunt Embma makes choking sounds.

"She's JUST like you. You know that," uncle Jaruda gets out, and then dodges the flour his wife throws at him. Because he's a smart, wise, man like that.

"It doesn't look like a bitter because it's a mead, eh?" another khazad continues to Volkhof, as she gestures to it.

"Except we've already got enough sweet on tha menu," Volkhof counters. "The Duin--"

"More of a savory flavor--" The debate goes on, picks up, voices speaking up and thundering. Tables get hit, fists slam for emphasis. Somehow, Weatherspuns continues his story in the middle of it all. In fact, he joins Astaren's table. Jabbin' away.

"ALRIGHT!" Jaruda breaks out in the midst of it. "I'm bringin out ever' damn calzone in tha kitchen! Some of ever' flavor we got! Yer gonna try'em all! Then try all tha beer, ale, porters, an' mead samples folks brought today! Young woman!" Jaruda says, pointing now to Lysa. "You might want ta stand on one of tha tables. Cousins! Help her out, eh? This is about ta get busy," he says. Then nods at Hildr, as though she's supposed to know what to do. Sekrit Khazad Nod.

Oh lord. By Daeus. Lysa is fortunate that she didn't wear her -armor- to wander about town and go to the tavern. Fifty pounds of plate armor would make standing on a table an ... interesting prospect. As it stands, she's in simple trousers with a white tunic that has a golden sunburst embroidered onto the front of it. Yep, a Daeusite.

She accepts the help clambering up onto the tabel, after all she's not a super nimble sort. "So, while up here, I just keep tellin' you what you can find out by tasting my mead?!" she calls out.

Astaren is queit happy to be talking to the man and hearing his stories. He continues to write and and occasional glances around then back to his writing.

This is the good stuff! Making his way to Lysa, Dubtle does in fact take a moment to ask her, "May I hae some of this mead?" He beams at her, though a glance towards AStaren and the others inicates he's curious since he's missing story time!

"Aye, you may be being having a drink of me mead." replies Lysa in her mildly heavy accent. It's not that she doesn't speak common, just that her particular group of Aesir had different ways of stringing the words together to get the same messages across.

Beaming down at the dwarf, she holds the ladel out his way. "Be being my guest if you would!"

"Kharmen Porter!"

"Queen's Borderland!"

The debate halts momentarily as the kitchen doors fly open. Dubtle and Hildr get handed platters, and in the hands of cousins, yet more platters to spread out among the crowd. Anvilspeak crust with root-vegetable, pepper-style. Mastersmake, Forgeiron. Oomchil sauce and then platters filled with the Duin-style mushrooms, steaming hot.

"YOU'RE DOIN GOOD!" hollars Jaruda at Lysa, with a laugh. One of the servers reaches up, lifting a steaming-hot, meats-filled Bludspepper. The crust is simple and robust, with a layered finish.

"Let's get some Balin's Rosey!" yells someone nearby. The khazad woman from earlier though, "I think she's right! We need something sweet!"

"We've got too much!" yells Volkhof. Because it's Volkhof.

"Mushrooms are SAVORY, you nit and you know it. You're just bein' yer father!" she says. "Dubtle, back me up here!" She tosses him her hammer. TOSSES! Knogh sees it, and ducks underneath--colloding with Hildr. Because that is just a THING THAT HAPPENS OKAY.

Plates handed to Hildr are passed off to hungry diners as quick as her legs will allow, the druid heading back to the counter for another armful-- which point she gets collided with, causing a single Oomcil-loaded calzone to slide off a plate.... and splat directly atop Volkhof's head. "Sorry not sorry!" Hildr shouts, wading back to the counter to escape the sour dwarf's wrath.

Wincing at the impacting of the hammer and such, Lysa shakes her head, "If you are not being in mortal peril, I can heal that later!" she calls out. But then she doles out another round of mead for those near her who desire it. "Remember. Vote Golden Apple." she says with a winning and charming grin. Paladins really shouldn't go into politics, that'd just be cheating.

"..." Knogh pushes herself up, oomchil sauce dripping over her braid and shoulder. Then she sees that most of it hit--

"Nice aim, cousin," she says, low-voiced, if there's a chance Hildr can still hear her. Then, theeeeeeeeeeen she remembers someone had tossed Dubtle a hammer. She stares blankly into space as her brain tries to process this fact, and what it may mean for the safety of them all.

Now with mead, Dubtle's mood seems much imporved. He looks towards his plate and thenn beams, having himself a drink before sitting next to Kogh and Hildr for the moment.

"You know, for a human, her mead isn't half bad."

Give that to them. The khazad are neat. Enthusiastic, but neat. The food gets eaten, passed around generously. No few samples end up in front of Astaren.

...who gets no few smacks on the back and comments about "meat on his bones."

The hammer lands on Dubtle's head. THUD. Knogh misses it, having her arms thrown protectively over head.

The woman who'd thrown it blinks once. "Well, it can only improve him," she says pragmatically, to Lysa.

"I like this one," another khazad speaks up, holding up the mead. "I'll go tell Embma about it." He gives Lysa a nod, and makes his way--stepping over Dubtle along the path.

Astaren has been absorbed in listening to stories. He glances to the food and shrugs his shoulders, pushes the food away and goes back to writing, clearly that is more interesting to the man!

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Stoneworks' Drink Menu =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Stoneworks serves the following, plus water.

Shalebrew: Local specialty ale. Medium weight with a rock's touch, but lingers where it matters.

Red-ox: Cheap as piss beer but keeps ya full, favorite of some army types.

Agateslock: A "light" ale by khazad-aul standards, but knocks even a quartersmaster off his feet. Never, ever order this 'lightly on the rocks.' It's just damn bad taste.

Northmountain Golden Apple: A sweet, crisp mead with a golden color taken from the Redridge frost. Stonework's nod to the Heartlands--locally sourced and brewed, a mead with contrasting sweet and tart flavors.

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Her cask pretty much depleted in record time, Lysa realizes she's going to need to spend more time brewing large amounts of the stuff. She grins though and nods... and then proceeds to drain her own tankard which she filled at the start and never drank from. Since.. she knew she'd run out before she got to sample it otherwise. "Well, that was fun!" she exclaims.