T
Tegan
Guest
Original poster
EPIC: The Powers That Be
Episode One: The Watched Pot Never Boils
Episode One: The Watched Pot Never Boils
The Turkey Vulture Pub and Grill
"A lovely little seaside pub owned and operated by some of Cornwall's most animated characters. The bar features a variety of local ciders and ales alongside the typical drinks list, so even the most discerning of palates can be sated. The food selection is varied, usually daily specials posted by their excellent cook, and moderately priced. However, the 'box standard' of pub food: chips, crisps and nuts are always available and quite satisfying. Be sure to chat it up with the barman, a friendly old man with loads of interesting stories about his days in 'the service'..."
The posh young man stared, smiling nervously, into the depths of the barman's hooded face, trying to make out any distinctive qualities--other than the clothes that seemed to be part hoodie and track pants, part necromancer's robes.
"Hello!" He squinted to read the long name on the barman's badge. "Krowgar Devourer of Souls..." There was a deep, eldritch rumbling from within the darkness of Krowgar's cowl that Gordon could only assume was a greeting. "Er, right. I'll have a pint of pear Rattler, if you please, and do you happen to have anything gluten free for my wife?"
The barman turned with the slow creak of centuries, disappearing from this realm of existence for one moment, before re-existing again. Gordon's pint rested on the bar mat in front of him alongside some mysterious fizzy concoction that smelled vaguely of elderflowers. A maggot disengaged itself from somewhere within the shadows of his hood and plopped into the fizzy drink, writhing in agony as it drowned in the fruity liquor.
"Er, sorry, but, she's, um, vegan."
There was an infernal shriek, the wails of a thousand burning souls, from somewhere within the barman's form as he raised both arms, skeletal fingers weaving arcane symbols in the air. There was the distinct balloon squeak of Gordon's sphincter tightening protectively as he tried to ward of the transparent phantoms suddenly swirling around him. "Sorry! Sorry!"
And then all was silence. The drink again pristine, as if the maggot never existed. With one shaking hand, Gordon withdrew three one pound coins from within his coat pocket and placed them on the bar before Krowgar.
"Cheers..."
Only silence from Krowgar.
He found Priscilla seated in a booth near the back, flipping through the This. Is. Cornwall her grandmother had gifted her with before her trip from America. She smiled warmly at her husband, taking the offered drink with a quiet thanks. "Well, did the barman have any good stories for you?"
"I don't think the barman had a face." Gordon shook his head in disbelief as he slid into the seat across from her. "Listen, Priscilla, I think this pub might be run by--"
A high-pitched yelp escaped Gordon's throat as something perky and upbeat dropped down from the ceiling. "Hi hi, you guys!" A Korean girl now stood before their booth, notepad ready, her short apron, knee high socks and black mini-skirt betraying her as the barmaid. "Welcome to the Turkey Vulture! Is there anything I can get for...you..." The girl deflated somewhat, giving a small sigh of disappointment. "Oh, seems you've already got your drinks! Then I guess that means you've met Krowgar. Don't worry about him, he may not talk much, but he's alright (I think)," the girl stuck the pencil behind her ear. The eraser end looked like it had been dipped in blood and plunged into a shark tank. She was a chewer. "Just new at the job. It's my first day, too, actually." She seemed to forget exactly why she was there for a moment, before she noticed the couple's slack-jawed expressions. "What's the matter? Don't like your drinks?"
Gordon shook his head, and brought his hands up frantically. "No no! It's just, er, they never mentioned in the guidebook that this pub was operated by, er..." The barmaid's brow remained cocked in quirked position, Priscilla decided to help her new hubby out. "Powered folks..."
Realization dawned in the girl's brown eyes. "Oooh..." Without asking for permission, she plucked up the tattered guidebook and flipped to the first page. "This guidebook was written in 1984." She said, deadpan.
"Oh, I see! I see!" A pause from Gordon, "...What does that mean exactly?"
The barmaid rolled her eyes, before reciting, as if from a book. "1984, six years before the World Wide De-masking and Protection of Powers Act." She looked like she was going to explain further, but a noise from outside distracted her. "Ooooooh! Those darn seagulls are in the garbage, again!" Without a second glance to the couple, the girl flew, literally flew, outside to shoo away the pesky birds.
"Honey."
"...Yes, Priscilla?"
"This drink does taste kind of funny."