I’m here ter tend bar, right, the bloomin’ rest is none of yor business. Don’t fink I’m bloody well not wotchin’.
Old Hob
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I’m here ter tend bar, right, the bloomin’ rest is none of yor business. Don’t fink I’m bloody well not wotchin’.
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Which bar, Mr. Hob?
Abab’s Bane Tavern, yung master.
*evaluates the newcomer with a scowl*
Welcome to New Babbage, Queequeg. Try the wiggyfish chowder.
((A sincere welcome.))
I wonder what the bones say to this old Hob? If’n he orders up a sealed coffin, we better get prepared for some interesting times!
I listen ter the bones several times a day.
Old Hob, Sir, I have a friend who would be delighted to learn more about your geomantic skills. Expect Major Oldrich to come for a pint, he would love to see you cast the bones and tell him what they say. He is most interested in the Old Arts.
Welcome to New Babbage.
Cleromancy, sir.
Geomancy is divination by reading the earth, of which we have little in New Babbage.
Perhaps we could read the patterns of dirt on urchins as one would read leaves in a teacup.
My apologies, Ma’am. The Major lead me to understand that dropping things on the earth was such a thing, but it occurs to me that the reading is the important thing. He is keen to see this one as he seems partial to the i ching. German y’know, has a thing for the Orient.
The bones say not ter show the bloomin’ fellow.
i’m enjoying seeing more aged avatars wandering around town.
I do not wander as much as I used to, gout y’know. That and my work keeps me in my laboratory for long stretches of time. Still, I yearn for storytime at the Bucket of Blood as an excuse to get out some…
Take a good look. We’ll all be dead soon.
Mumsy is correct. It would behoove you to enjoy our presence and benefit of our wisdom while you may.