After a long sleepy rest, the wood stretches, the tavern yawns, and it's doors open...

In reply to Essence of the Inn (msg # 1):

A sound.. enters the Tavern before some thing.. physically enter's.
 A male voice; "Diana.. Thank you.. You are a big help, with settling new minions.  BUT You Know I don't talk Theology, Not with the Knight, Not definitely with you."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:40, Thu 31 Dec 2020.

A high female voice replies; "Great One.. But you KNOW I am your Theologian."

  and through a haze like heat on a hot highway a big man in a cowboy hat blue jeans and a flannel shirt, walks with the three-footed gate of the cane user.. onto the porch and through the front door, a form maybe a quarter of his height a black, white and tan rabbit walk confidently on two feet. Wearing raw stone bead, mouse-skull rattles, a grass skirt, rustling sounds like ?'Plastic'.
   As she walks into the tavern.. She looks around; "Einstien was Right this endpoint is open again."

The western-dressed man shrugs; "Diana.. Please.. Just call me Jack like everyone else does. Yes.. Yes I know 'Some Times.. Great Just Means Big.'.. but for my own sake and keeping the size of my head safely small Just Jack."

Pausing as her last statement enters his thought processing. Looking up from her he sees that they are no longer in the bunny base warren.. He Sighs "Did.. Did.. Einstein say something about testing the worm-whole endpoint anchor?"

The little Rabbit shaman's head, simply Nods.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:42, Thu 31 Dec 2020.

At the sound of voices, the bar keep raises a head from the book he's been reading.  He recognizes this one from a distant past, and pours a drink, leaving it on the bar to take or not.  And goes back to his book.

The Country boy takes the drink notes it is his regular carrot juice with a shot of tomato paste and whisky and sips some.

She had been riding in a car.  She remembered that.  But where?  Who was driving?  She had no idea.  There was an awful sound of squeal and crushing metal.  She remembered that too.  But then she was walking, stumbling really, through a thick wood.  It was dark. That was so unlike her.  She'd never go walking through the woods.

And now she was here, entering this... this what?  Hovel? Shack?  What the hell was this?  A bar.  It looked...icky.

Um. Excuse me?  Excuse me?  Can someone please tell me where am I?  And may I have a glass of water?  She yelled, then looking around thought better, A glass of gin.  Or whiskey?  Or vodka? Something that would kill any germs that might be on the glass.

(From The Game Room)

The Englishman thought he heard voices, more than one then. He cocked a brow toward the direction from whence they came. Aaah! The place stirs once more, then? The tavern had a way of drawing one to it over and over, it seemed. No doubt others had heard the call. Whom? Well, one could never tell, really. It seemed the place touched not only different times but different worlds entirely. The best thing, the only thing really, to do was rise from the seat and see for himself.

Meri gathered the ole vintage made by Quintus Maxximus here in this very place, parted the red velvet curtains, and peeked within the taproom beyond. There were several good folks at the bar, along with the keeper himself, of course. The blonde woman was having a spot of bother; it would seem. Her first time here, most likely. Meri smiled in sympathy, for he remembered his own. Had it been but a year ago or a thousand? Who could tell for time held no sway at the tavern. None that he could fathom.

Meri strode to the bar, doffed his bowler, and nodded to each person in turn. "Well met! It is good to see others about the place. I have been here for some time... well it doesn't matter how long really. My name is Smythe, Meriwether Lewis Smythe. I am at your service."

The Englishman smiled his bravest at the troubled woman. "Your first time, I suppose. Never fear, we all have had similar misgivings, but I assure you, you are quite safe. As far as a whiskey... I would suggest Irish but may I also suggest sharing a glass of wine. This is a special vintage made by a chap who once tended that bar himself. A Roman by the name of Quintus. If so, I can call for another glass perchance?"

She must have walked into a movie set.  That was the first and most logical thought.  But then, there were no cameras and crews.  Isabella has experienced some weird in her day, but it was a while ago.  So long that she now doubted it was real.  And there was no one left to confirm or deny.

She glanced at the Englishmen skeptically.  Her eyes slid down his frame slowly then back up to meet his eyes.  She then glanced to the other prominent figure.  A cowboy?

An Englishman and a cowboy walk into a bar... wasn't that the way jokes began?  Did they know her?  She had been retired a little while.  But she was also the face of IPBS...

Mr....Symth.  I'm Isabella. She pronounced with a raise of her chin an an air of royalty.  The, Do you know me? clear, but unspoken.  A glass of anything would be nice. It was dawning on her that she had no money.  It was in her bag, which was notably gone.  If the room didn't recognize her, she would need to rely on the kindness of strangers.

I believe I am... lost. She said with a quiver that was more real than she intended.  Might you tell me where I am? She asked realizing her style of speech had fallen into some what mirroring his.  An old habit.

Meri turned to the other chap there, one who would have been at home in the dusty streets of Laredo or Whiskey Flats, dipped his chin. "Would you care to sample the wine as well? There is enough, I assure you. There is no bother about it. In fact, Quint made me privy to the location of his secret stash some time ago. I do see you already have a drink, but it would be horribly impolite not to offer you see."

The Englishman then nodded and smiled his bravest to the barkeep. "Two glasses... no make it three, thank you. In case this gentleman cares to partake."

Meri's head slowly lolled about, so he was speaking to the gorgeous blonde. It would seem that the way she carried herself and the slight bob of her chin, that one should know her... or at the very least know of her. Was she one of the many that had accompanied Valerie then to one of those horrid soirees in Oxford? No! He would have remembered that face. Well then, nothing for it but to stumble on.

"Isabella? Aaah! Now there is a name that just rolls about the tongue; what? Oh! The vintage that is about to part those lips is anything... but anything. Indeed!" Meri smiled. "Lost, is it? Well, this place is named The Wolf's Head Tavern. Quaint! In that off the beaten path while in Wales sort of way. You need not worry. The first time one blunders in is a little... unsettling, but you shall get used to it. Of course, the wine will aid in trimming the nerves as it were."

She had smiled and nodded graciously in acceptance of the glass and at the cowboy, to assure him Mr. Symth was speaking for both of them.

But the mention of 'Wolf's Head Tavern' was a shock.  How could she possibly have landed herself somewhere named such?

What? Where am I, really? Isabella interrupted, her calm-ish façade momentarily dropped and a tinge of a Southern US accent sneaking in.  I was in a car in Boston.  Boston, Massachusetts.  And I was riding West, to the Berkshires.  I can't believe there's a place, a place like this in the Boston burbs called Wolf's Head Tavern.   What a dreadful name!  Dreadful.  What about the rest of the wolf?  And I'm not even sure there are any real woods in Massachusetts!  Is this some kind of ... movie set? She glanced around.  Am I being on one of those tv shows where they do pranks?  I really don't like them. She was definitely cross now and frantically panning the room.

I don't give my permission! She yelled to the roof.  Getting angrier. I don't even give away my photos. She growled under her breath.

The forests around him had changed so gradually that he hadn't noticed until he stumbled across... the tavern.  He'd been on a mission in the serene forests of Ardenweald on behalf of some recent allies to aid the inhabitants there, a show of support between different realms of the Shadowlands.  It was strange times for the living to explore the realms of the dead, but strange, dangerous times had become the norm over the last... by the Light, the last decade.

But somehow... this place had faded from his mind.  This strange, bizarre place.  The Wolf's Head Tavern.  How had he forgotten a place as bizarre as this?  And with all he'd seen over the years, that was a high bar.

Still... last last few times he'd come here, he'd ended up back where he'd come from without incident.  So he supposed he could afford to linger a bit... see what was here to be seen.

As he approached the entrance, he could hear someone shouting about not giving permission.  What was that about?  Curiosity burned, but he surmised that perhaps it was best not to enter while wearing his full combat gear.  With a gesture and a flash of magic, he dismissed his armor, which faded away as a puff of smoke, giving way to a more casual, dark leather outfit.  Of course, he was still a Worgen, a large wolf-like creature standing well over seven feet.  But there was little to be done about that, given how much difficulty he had in maintaining human form these days.  He'd all but given up on it except in the most relaxed of circumstances.

Pushing open the door, he stepped inside, looking around.  Very little appeared to have changed except the patrons currently within.  "Here we go again..." He muttered to himself.  He wondered what curiosities and stories from other worlds he would hear about this time as he approached the bar, keeping a distance from the annoyed-looking woman who he assumed was probably the one he'd heard shouting from outside.

The black and white-furred Rabbit walking on two legs with obvious opposing thumbs dressed in a plastic grass skirt and dangling mouse head rattles; appearing to be real.
   Looks around at the Arrivals.. "Calling of the Spirits"
   And turning to look up at the Great one; _{"Unless Einstien triggered a vortex sweep, I think that is what he calls it, this isn't just the result of his experiment, Jack."}
This message was last edited by the player at 13:15, Sat 02 Jan 2021.

     Jack looks at the string of people who follow him in, seeing very little sign of the Bunny base vortex.
   Raising his glass of carrot juice to the offer of wine, he starts to answer the questions in order of ease of.. shoot.. To think about it.  "I'd Like to partake fella, but sadly since the accident, I have to be careful about what I consume." And takes a sip of the carrot juice.

  looking at the young lady, she could pet his ears, he sighs; "Honey.. Miss Bella.. Our Friend here Mister Smythe, is quite right, iff'n you call it wandering into fairy-land or a sub-dimensional matrix anchor.. Don't really matter much Wolf-head Tavern is Nice folk... don't know iff'n he, she or other.. or iff'n it even matters.  You are physically safe here, those who might attack you aren't.  Just stay on the safe path's until it is time to go home."

Turning to look at the TALL fellow coming through the door; "Morn'n to you fella, My Name is Jack Buck or Bunny depend'n on my shape, please avoid munch'n the Minion" and he Winks at the Canidae, and third furred folk in the room.
  Waving his hand at the humanoid somewhat oversized bunny at his feet; "and Miss Diana here, said Minion.. is my High Priestess."" as like a three-year-old he stuck his tongue out at her.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:46, Thu 31 Dec 2020.

   The Little Rabbit Sighs.. "Great-one, The..  ..I am Your Theologian and am a shaman, Not Priestess."

She looks at Mister Smythe.. "A moment.."  And she first sitting on the floor, hops up to the seat of a bar stool, then to the bar itself.  trotting to the wine with a normal rabbit's four-legged gait, she stands up, pausing to look at the server; "If I may smell it."
  She first straightens her 'Grass skirt' looking at the Human female, "Real grass makes a much prettier skirt, but if I get nervous I Eat It!" She finishes sadly.

Sniffing the Wine she looks over the group. "The same accident that created Bunny created us.. he can drink this wine."

Looking at the person at the door.
 She turned and asked the Barman, "You got consomme?"
This message was last edited by the player at 14:37, Thu 31 Dec 2020.

Her eyes widened.  She knew it was impolite to stare, but how could she not?  Her hand went to her head, feeling for a bump.  Maybe this was a hallucination.  Had Ken slipped some of her drugs into her?  No, Ken was dead. No bump.  Was she dead?  So many question.  So much weirdness.

Maybe she was dead?  Maybe this rabbit creature was a rabbit Goddess. She always believed in something like that.

She wandered to the Rabbit Goddess, curtseyed and asked in a whisper, May I touch you?  Are you real?  Are you here to tell me you approve of Isabella's Pet Bereavement Services?

Meri gave a nod of welcome to the newcomer as he walked in. Being a frequent patron of the place, he was used to many types of folks wandering in. In fact, he was quite sure many in the tavern, before and since, had found him the odd fellow out. When the barman handed him a glass, the Englishman poured two glasses. One for himself and the other for Isabella. The third, he left empty for now as neither Jack nor Diana cared to partake.

Meri gave the pair a nod and smiled "Well, if it is not your cup of tea, no bother, but the offer stands if you should change your mind. I am most pleased with making your acquaintance Buck and Diana. Most pleased indeed. It was getting quite lonely, I must say."

It was nice that Isabella was making her way to acceptance. It took time, Meri well knew. Some more than others. It was best for one to do so at their own pace. So he let her glass stay put as he turned his attention to the newcomer.

"I say? If you wish to join us, please do. Just having some wine and such. There is more than enough to go round. The name is Smythe, Meriweather Lewis Smythe. Most pleased to meet you."

Jon nodded in greeting to Jack.  "Don't worry, I'm civilized.  Been here once or twice before... though it was a while back.  The name's Jon."

As the offer came from the fancier-looking gentlemen, he nodded and approached.  "Thanks, I think I will.  Nice to try something different."  He took a seat, side-eyeing the woman as she approached... Diana, was it?  He turned to Smythe, and nodded his head in the woman's direction.  "Her first time?"  He asked quietly.  He vaguely remembered there being people here from far more mundane worlds than his the last time he came around, so being a bit overwhelmed would be a bit more understandable.

   Diana, the little rabbit: glanced at the pretty human female; "Isabella's Pet Bereavement Services?"  Turning the shaman rabbit walked over to the edge of the bar sitting down and adjusting her 'grass'-skirt to look at the questioner with professional interest. "Mz. .. Err.. Isabella.. Just how broad are you using the term bereavement, Pastoral care for. bereaved Pets at the loss of the favored keeper, pet's loss of a sib pet. or Keeper's bereavement at the loss of a beloved Pet?"

Pausing she looked at the human she calls the Great-one, returned the three-year-old tongue gesture, turns back to the nice woman and says; "My name is Diana no second, family, clan, or tribal calling.. You may pet my ears if you want to."

And from down the Bar the Truck farmer lets out a deep belly laugh at an obvious in-joke.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:48, Sat 02 Jan 2021.

The grey-bearded Jack took another sip of his prefered mixed 'poison', and watched the young lady address Diana and he grins at her expression.

As the guy who just came in spoke, Jack's expression slipped into a cold visage for a moment and his gaze slipped to the side and seemed to look at something in the far distance; "I once thought I was civilized, thank God that your path hasn't wandered beyond the pale; Jon."

And with a glance and pastoral verbal dart, a little rabbit tore his mind from memories and Jack began to laugh pointing his finger helplessly at the small bipedal rabbit sitting on the bar.

Looking back at Jon, Jack still chuckling at whatever the joke was, "Welcome back the bar's open."  And took another sip of whisky, carrot juice and tomato paste.