Tales From The Old Bald One-Eyed Salty Red Dog Tavern! (chapter 1, now closed)





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  1. #1
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    Tales From The Old Bald One-Eyed Salty Red Dog Tavern! (chapter 1, now closed)

    As of 2-19-07, this is hereby now the old:

    In Character thread for...

    Tales From The Old Bald One-Eyed Salty Red Dog Tavern!

    Now, below are some ground rules I'd like for us (well, okay, you) to follow. Now, it may seem like a lot at first, but I guarantee that they will only help us (most importantly, me) keep track of what's going on a whole lot easier. So:

    ***

    1) Let's try to stay in character in this thread; any quick and simple out of character comments/questions should be set off from the rest of the message like so:

    ===================
    OOC: My butt itches sumpin' fierce

    Longer or non-game-related OOC comments/questions should go in the OOC thread (formerly the recruiting thread) here.

    ***

    2) I don't care how you refer to your character whilst in character on this thread; that is, I don't care if you refer to your character in the first person or third person. But do please try to be consistent - don't refer to your character in the first AND third person in the same post. (Yes, I've seen it happen. Most confusing.)

    ***

    3) Please set off spoken words in quotes and in a color, like this: "My butt itches sumpin' fierce!"

    ***

    4) If you like to describe your actions by keeping them separate from your dialog, please set them off in angle brackets like this:

    <scratches butt sumpin' fierce, hocks loogie into spitoon>

    Otherwise, just use a narrative style like this:

    Roguey Bob scratches his butt sumpin' fierce, hocks a loogie into the spitoon and says, "Man, my butt itches sumpin' fierce!"

    or, in first person,

    I scratch my butt sumpin' fierce, hock a loogie into the spitoon and say, "Man, my butt itches sumpin' fierce!"

    but not

    Roguey Bob scratches my butt sumpin' fierce, hocks a loogie into the spitoon and I say, "Man, my butt itches sumpin' fierce!"

    Who's scratching who, now? A classic case of mixing up your first person and third person narrative. See how confusing that is? Confusing is bad. (Having your butt scratched by a stranger ain't no picnic, either.)

    ***

    5) For clarity's sake, everyone should have a different color. (First come first serve - so if you really, REALLY have to have pink, better post quick and claim it.) Also, be sure it's not too light to show up in the "stealth" background mode (the white/grey background).

    ***

    6) Some players like to relate their character's thoughts. If you like, you can do this by putting thoughts in your speaking color with italics, like this: HotDAMN my butt itches sumpin' fierce...

    Now, if you choose to post your character's thoughts every now and then, be careful what he/she thinks. For the most part, they should merely be embellishment for your character's mood or what he/she has said or is about to say. Your character's thoughts should not give away things that other players should know, i.e., do not think:

    Dang, our Paladin is an idiot... But, he's got the highest charisma, so we're stuck.

    This is a double whammy because 1) it can cause a problem in game play with regard to the 'idiot' comment, and 2) that metagaming no-no (how does your character know the Paladin has the highest charisma? And just what is "charisma", and what does he mean by "highest"?)

    ***

    7) If you want your character to do something without other players knowing, set it off similar to the OOC comment and in a spoiler block addressed to me, like this:

    ====================

    DM:
    Spoiler:
    My character scratches his butt surreptitiously (+3 to Hide Butt Scratching skill)

    We'll count on other players to be honest and not peek!

    8) I know that some players put their name and certain vital stats (class, race, character level, current hp, etc.) in the subject line of each post. That's not necessary here, and indeed will be frowned upon (at least in the beginning) since no one knows anyone else.

    >>>>>

    Okay, that's all the ground rules for now. I promise, this is as "strict" as I get. I'm NOT a rules lawyer, as you'll soon find out. I just want to make sure this game has as little confusion as possible, so we can all enjoy it and have a good time.

    As far as die rolling goes, I'll be doing it all. I also prefer to just describe the action that's taking place:

    Roguey Bob's Whirlwind Attack with the spiked chain sends goblin limbs flying across the clearing, landing at the feet of their bugbear master, and they fall down in a bloody heap!

    ...Rather than describe the die rolling that took place:

    Your d20 rolls of 14, 12, and 16, coupled with your attack bonus of +12, easily surpasses the goblin's armor class of 15. Rolling 2d4+4 for damage with said weapon, you deal 12, 8, and 10 points of damage to goblins 1, 3, and 7 respectively, effectively terminating them. You have successfully vanquished three of your adversaries. Huzzah.

    In other words, I emphasize the roLE playing, not the roLL playing (cliche, yes, but true). If you really want to know what you rolled on something let me know, and I may or may not ignore your request altogether.
    Last edited by Lazlow; Monday, 19th February, 2007 at 04:13 PM.

 

  • #2
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    Intro

    As the sun peeked out from behind the clouds over the seaside village of Lizard Spit, spilling its warm, golden glow over all, it took one look at the town and immediately wished it had stayed in bed. So, like so many days before this one, it spent the rest of the day hiding behind drizzle-soaked storm clouds and basically sulking its way across the heavens.

    In other words, it was a normal day in Lizard Spit.

    The grey sky loomed overhead like it always did, the clouds drooled dirty drizzle all around like they always did, and the citizens of Lizard Spit put up with this like they always did. Such was Lizard Spit.

    However, there was something different about this particular day. There were new folks in town this day, having arrived late last night, each from distant lands unknown – the darkly beautiful young woman with the mysteriously quiet yet impeccably well-dressed companion; the rugged, swarthy man of the law; the dark and mysterious holy man; the, um… Extravagantly dressed and outspoken elf; and the rather plain-looking young man that seemed to have followed the elf into town (they say he was mesmerized by a shiny bauble on the elf’s attire…). Yessiree, such a stir hadn’t been caused in Lizard Spit since – well, we’ll get to that shortly.

    Yes, as you could tell, the citizens of Lizard Spit were a hardy bunch, withstanding the weather, strangers, and even the occasional natural disaster with a grim, determined apathy. Why, even when the town was terrorized by that dragon all those years ago, the people of Lizard Spit merely put up with it, paying tribute to the dragon and providing maidens as needed. Truth be told, the dragon was about to pack it in and find an exciting, altogether more lively town if it hadn’t been for Sir Dudley, who decided to come to the town’s aid (even though they didn’t ask for it) and slay that monstrous dragon. Legend has it that, in a remarkable and largely unprecedented display of thoughtfulness, the citizens of Lizard Spit commissioned a statue of Sir Dudley and had it erected in the town square on the day of his departure. Of course, some might call the pose that the sculptor had chosen a bit questionable, what with him appearing to be scratching his butt and all, but it didn’t really seem to bother the fine people of the town. Life went on as usual – the sky loomed, the clouds drooled. Such was Lizard Spit.

    But that was decades ago, and there weren’t many left in town that were witness to those crazy, reckless days of yore when Spittians (such was what they called themselves) went about erecting statues willy-nilly. Nosiree, those impetuous, hotheaded days were gone. Why, just last month marauding bands of goblinoids from the surrounding woods began raiding the town for food and loot, but do you see the townspeople complaining? Of course not, they’re Spittians, dammit! And it is on one of these later, altogether lackluster days that these five strangers happen to find themselves in The Old Bald One-Eyed Salty Red Dog Tavern…

    Ah yes, The Old Bald One-Eyed Salty Red Dog Tavern. Quite a popular place, it seems, and not only because it’s the only place in town where you could get a decent meal and a good mug of ale (aside from The Water Weasel, but who wants to go to that dive?). Here is where the burly dwarf Feargal Sunderkeg, the current owner and proprietor of the tavern, plies his trade. With his sister Muirna tending tables and his cousin Olaf in the kitchen, Sunderkeg (as he likes to be called) has managed to make this establishment the jewel of the city. Well, not really. But he sure would like to think so, and he does serve up a mean mug o’ hooch. Most of the townsfolk like to come here after a hard, long day of indifference to the world and tie one on, perhaps listening to a wandering minstrel every now and again before he leaves (or hangs himself) from utter depression, or reveling in one of Sunderkeg’s many tall tales of his past adventures. The womenfolk keep abreast of the latest gossip via Muirna, who never lets a juicy bit of hearsay get past her. And everyone just loves Olaf’s lutefisk. Mm-mm, lutefisk…

    …Er, so, as I said, it so happens that these five strangers have made their way into The Old Bald One-Eyed Salty Red Dog Tavern, where some momentous things may or may not await them…

    =======================

    OOC: ...Aaaaaaaaaaaand - action!
    Last edited by Lazlow; Thursday, 26th May, 2005 at 08:00 PM.

  • #3
    I reserve Green
    (Description in Third person, I will do all else in first)
    Jaunting in the front door...comes a Male Elf with Long, Lustrous, Shiny, Clean, Flowing, Blond hair. On his back is a bright Yellow and Red Backpack that has a small label applied near the edge. He is wearing Sky Blue and Purple Pantaloons and a Bright Orange and Periwinkle Shirt. On his waist is a Bright White Belt with a Royal Blue Scabbard. He appears to be wearing a suit of mail Under the clothing. He has a Black Bandana about 1/2 inch above his eyes. He is also wearing a fair bit of simple jewelry, like a necklace, some rings, earrings....ect...
    (/end description)

    I walk to the counter:: "Excuse me miss, is there some work that I can do to pay for a meal of that wonderful bread and food that I smell cooking. No meat however, does not agree with my stomach. Also I find myself short of cash overall and would like to know if there is work to be found in this town for one such as I?"

    I then turn to the room and survey what is around me. I smile at those that make eye contact.:: "What charming people. I think I might grow to like it here. If I can find a place to ply my Trade. I am a clothier or tailor. "

    I turn back to the counter and keep talking the whole time::"I can also help to teach reading and writing and assist in the training of young folks in the martial profession. As a last resort I can always try to clean and assist with any 'Problems' the town might have. But that might not be fair to the 'Problem'..."
    I smile broadly ::"Could I beg a mug of water as well."

    I finally stop talking for a bit.
    Last edited by Wystan; Thursday, 26th May, 2005 at 10:11 PM.

  • #4
    A person in rattily attired clothes enters soon after the well dressed elf. His clothes are patch worked and not all rips are mended. He walks in and does not stop to affix his eyes to the darkness. In his temporary blind state he almost trips over a bench in the middle of the room. Stopping he sits down and with his gaze no longer fixed on the elf, he starts to look around. Seeing someone near by he studders a question, Wah..Wah...Wah...where am...am...am....Where am I?

    He stares blankly at the person waiting for an answer.
    Last edited by Ranger Rick; Friday, 27th May, 2005 at 04:02 PM.

  • #5
    A prolonged coughing can be heard from coming outside the door of the inn. It continues for nearly a minute, and you hear a man's baritone voice say, "Great Grandfather's ghost! I thought I was about to loose my lunch on that one."

    There is the sound of some shuffling about and clearing of throat after which the door opens, revealing an extremely tall, lanky man clad in rust-red clerical robes, covered with a midnight-blue hooded cloak. Before entering the inn’s main room proper, he turns around and calls out sharply to someone out of sight, “No, no, put him in the stable and don’t give him oats. You know how gassy he gets when he eats plain oats. Just mix it with the straw.

    The man turns and enters the main room, ignoring everyone else, not bothering to close the door behind him, and quickly makes his way over to a table, where he unceremoniously plops into an empty child. He pulls the hood off of his head, revealing a bald pate, a black goatee and chillingly blue eyes. His features look patrician, accented by a narrow, aquiline nose and small, thin lips. He sits back in his chair, messaging his temples and mumbling to himself.

    Finally, he looks up at someone he assumes is a waitress of some sort and very quickly blurts out, “Eh, hello there. Would you happen to have some warm soup or something like that? Nothing too strong, my stomach couldn’t take that. Perhaps a light leak soup? But nothing with cream, that would keep me up all night with cramps. Hmm, perhaps a chicken soup would be good? Well, I would think that would depend on the chickens. And then some bread. And maybe a little bit of venison if you have it. Oh, yes, and a wine, but nothing too sweet, and not that swill you sell the traders passing through. Something with a bit of age to it.” He clears his throat, looking up to see if the waitress got all that. “Oh, yes, and I guess you should get something for Luther. He’s in the stable with the horse. He’s fond of cheese, but don’t give him any. The soup’s good enough for him. Dairy makes him obstreperous.
    Last edited by Branding Opportunity; Friday, 27th May, 2005 at 03:42 AM.

  • #6
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    There's a jingling and clomping outside the door of the bar and loud curses about horse leavings. After a few moments of this, the doors splay wide and an imposing figure with a chest like a Gnollish beer barrel and arms like dragon sausages steps in. He stops, one hand holding a door open, the other lifting the brim of his wide, cinnamon-stick curled hat so his squinted, glinting eyes can get a long look at all the bar-dwellers.

    His chest is covered in a solid hunk of Mithral, dulled with dust from the long road. A matching shield is strapped to his back, and a straight sword with a hilt shaped like the head of great dog-of-war hangs on a red scabbard at his hip. A bright blue feather juts from his backpack over his left shoulder. His pants, boots and gloves are all thick leather stained by well-oiling beneath the layer of trail dirt that exhales dust when he moves. He pounds at his arms and legs to knock most of the dust off then steps further into the room. His boot spurs jangle twice before he stops abruptly with a wrinkle of his nose and steps outside to stomp around on the porch a bit more before re-entering, this time without any flourish, but apparently satisfied with his smell.

    He saunters up to the bar with still-squinted eyes and listens to the friendly yet babbling elf before popping a cigarillo between his lips. While he continues to listen to the elf, he takes a rag from his pocket and shines a bronze star attached to a strap on his armor, beneath which lies his gritty heart (too much grit?).

    Once the elf's finally stopped . . . oh, wait, no . . . okay . . . NOW that the elf's stopped talking, between gnaws at his tobaccy-stick he says to the proprietor, "Proprietor, gimme some grog. And get some for this pretty little lady, here, too." With that, he gives the elf a quick wink and nod of the head, and turns around to survey the rest of the citizenry.
    Last edited by Gray Shade; Thursday, 26th May, 2005 at 10:10 PM.
    "Did you see what he was wearing?"

    " . . . yeah. It was cool."

  • #7
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    A talkative elf

    Quote Originally Posted by Wystan
    Jaunting down the Stairs (or out of a back room as needed)...
    OOC: Looks like it'll have to be the front door... (Tavern map is up in OOC thread)

    ... comes a Male Elf with Long, Lustrous, Shiny, Clean, Flowing, Blond hair. On his back is a bright Yellow and Red Backpack that has a small label applied near the edge. He is wearing Sky Blue and Purple Pantaloons and a Bright Orange and Periwinkle Shirt. On his waist is a Bright White Belt with a Royal Blue Scabbard. He appears to be wearing a suit of mail Under the clothing. He has a Black Bandana about 1/2 inch above his eyes. He is also wearing a fair bit of simple jewelry, like a necklace, some rings, earrings....ect...
    (/end description)
    As you enter the tavern, most... Well, okay, all of the patrons immediately stop their talking/drinking/drooling/whatever and look directly at you with slightly widened eyes. Then, almost in unison, they all shrug and immediately go back to talking/drinking/drooling as you step up to the counter. Behind the counter a young Dwarven lass with masses of slightly desheviled red hair tied up in a bright green bow polishes some mugs.

    "Excuse me miss, is there some work that I can do to pay for a meal of that wonderful bread and food that I smell cooking."

    "Well, I -"

    "No meat however, does not agree with my stomach."

    "Oh, ok-"

    "Also I find myself short of cash overall and would like to know if there is work to be found in this town for one such as I?"

    "Oh, well I -"

    <turns to face the room> "What charming people. I think I might grow to like it here. If I can find a place to ply my Trade. I am a clothier or tailor. "

    "Ther-"

    <turns back to the counter>"I can also help to teach reading and writing and assist in the training of young folks in the martial profession."

    "Uh-hu-"

    "As a last resort I can always try to clean and assist with any 'Problems' the town might have."

    "..."

    "But that might not be fair to the 'Problem'..."

    < :\ >

    <smiling broadly>"Could I beg a mug of water as well."

    She waits a few seconds, not quite believing that you've finally stopped talking, then reaches down below the bar. You hear a faint *sploosh* and she sets a cup of water down in front of you. "On the house," she says with a terse smile.

    "If you're lookin' for tailor work, you could always check with Carlotta, she runs the clothier's up on the north end of Merchant's Row. As for 'problems', well, you might check with Sunderkeg. He'll be out in a minute."
    Last edited by Lazlow; Friday, 27th May, 2005 at 07:12 PM.

  • #8
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    The doors of the tavern fling open as the darkly beautiful young woman with the mysteriously quiet yet impeccably well-dressed companion enter. The woman, a short human with long black hair, a pale compliction and dressed in revealing black leather waltzes up to the bar. She is smiling broadly the entire way. Either talking to her companion or herself "What a gorgeous day, I wish everyday was like this"


    Her tall, skinny compainion follows, dressed head to toe, Clothing covering all flesh. A sword, a bow and a back pack identify a warrior

    The woman smacks the bar oblivious to anyone how would care, "Hey barman, gimme a, well gimme the special if you have one of those and be quick we're thirsty"
    Last edited by LogicsFate; Saturday, 28th May, 2005 at 06:15 AM.

  • #9
    I take the glass::"Why thank you lass, and may I say that you would have to be the prettiest dwarven maid I have ever seen. However that color does not highlight or flatter your hair and the tecture is all wrong for your skin type. I would reccomend a less subtle earth tone, maybe overtones of copper thrown in for a mix....Look at me talking, let me introduce myself. I am Ranti Akande, Clothier and Problem Solver supreme. Heck I remember this one time that I was asked to clear a den of 200 Kobolds. At least that is how many it seemed to be when I was done. However I did not stick around long when I was done. They fell before me..."

    I appear to be turning a slight green

    "I think that my tales like that might have to wait. They make me slightly queasy.. Anyway, would you be willing to spot me a slight meal, maybe some of that broth or soup that the gentleman over there is requesting."

    Looking down my nose at him::

    "And you sir REALLY need to clean your armor and clothing some more and a bath or at least simple cleaning could do you well. At least you don't carry the stench of carrion on you. I will make do with my water for now."

    I proceed to sip at the water checking for chemical tastes and the like....
    Last edited by Wystan; Friday, 27th May, 2005 at 04:01 PM.

  • #10
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    Muirna meets another stranger

    Quote Originally Posted by Branding Opportunity
    A prolonged coughing can be heard from coming outside the door of the inn. It continues for nearly a minute, and you hear a man's baritone voice say, "Great Grandfather's ghost! I thought I was about to loose my lunch on that one."

    There is the sound of some shuffling about and clearing of throat after which the door opens, revealing an extremely tall, lanky man clad in rust-red clerical robes, covered with a midnight-blue hooded cloak. Before entering the inn’s main room proper, he turns around and calls out sharply to someone out of sight, “No, no, put him in the stable and don’t give him oats. You know how gassy he gets when he eats plain oats. Just mix it with the straw.
    At this, a severe little balding man wearing thick spectacles and heavy brown robes rolls his eyes, tosses up his hands, pushes his plate of food away from him in disgust, and quickly exits the tavern, giving you a cold look and muttering under his breath.

    The man turns and enters the main room, ignoring everyone else, not bothering to close the door behind him, and quickly makes his way over to a table, where he unceremoniously plops into an empty child.
    OOC: Um... You sure about that? The parents might get a bit upset...


    He pulls the hood off of his head, revealing a bald pate, a black goatee and chillingly blue eyes. His features look patrician, accented by a narrow, aquiline nose and small, thin lips. He sits back in his chair, messaging his temples and mumbling to himself.
    Few patrons bother to turn and look at you, but those who do simply shrug and turn back to draining their mugs. You think you hear someone say something like, "When it rains, it pours..."

    The Dwarven barmaid bustles up to you and starts to say something but stops short as you begin to talk:

    Eh, hello there. Would you happen to have some warm soup or something like that? Nothing too strong, my stomach couldn’t take that. Perhaps a light leak soup? But nothing with cream, that would keep me up all night with cramps. Hmm, perhaps a chicken soup would be good? Well, I would think that would depend on the chickens. And then some bread. And maybe a little bit of venison if you have it. Oh, yes, and a wine, but nothing too sweet, and not that swill you sell the traders passing through. Something with a bit of age to it.” <clears throat, looks up expectantly>

    Halfway through your order, you thought you caught an almost imperceptible rolling of the eyes as if to say, "Here we go again," but you're not sure. When you pause, she perks up a bit, looks at you expectantly, and just as you start to speak she quickly says, "Cockaleekie soup, thin, with bread, venison and a dry wine, not inexpensive, well-aged. Right away." She turns to go, then turns back as you speak again.

    Oh, yes, and I guess you should get something for Luther. He’s in the stable with the horse. He’s fond of cheese, but don’t give him any. The soup’s good enough for him. Dairy makes him obstreperous.

    "Two soups, no cheese for the stubborn loudmouth. Right. Back in a jiff." She bustles toward the back of the tavern and yells, "Feargal! Little help up front, please," before she disappears through the kitchen door.
    Last edited by Lazlow; Friday, 27th May, 2005 at 07:12 PM.

  • #11
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    Sunderkeg on the job

    Quote Originally Posted by Gray Shade
    There's a jingling and clomping outside the door of the bar and loud curses about horse leavings. After a few moments of this, the doors splay wide and an imposing figure with a chest like a Gnollish beer barrel and arms like dragon sausages steps in. He stops, one hand holding a door open, the other lifting the brim of his wide, cinnamon-stick curled hat so his squinted, glinting eyes can get a long look at all the bar-dwellers.
    The bar dwellers don't seem to mind your long look, as most of them ignore you. The few who do look in your direction seem to look past you, as if wondering where this line of strangers will end, and when they'll stop interrupting their bleak, uneventful existences.

    His chest is covered in a solid hunk of Mithral, dulled with dust from the long road. A matching shield is strapped to his back, and a straight sword with a hilt shaped like the head of great dog-of-war hangs on a red scabbard at his hip. A bright blue feather juts from his backpack over his left shoulder. His pants, boots and gloves are all thick leather stained by well-oiling beneath the layer of trail dirt that exhales dust when he moves. He pounds at his arms and legs to knock most of the dust off then steps further into the room. His boot spurs jangle twice before he stops abruptly with a wrinkle of his nose and steps outside to stomp around on the porch a bit more before re-entering, this time without any flourish, but apparently satisfied with his smell.

    He saunters up to the bar with still-squinted eyes and listens to the friendly yet babbling elf before popping a cigarillo between his lips. While he continues to listen to the elf, he takes a rag from his pocket and shines a bronze star attached to a strap on his armor, beneath which lies his gritty heart (too much grit?).

    Once the elf's finally stopped . . . oh, wait, no . . . okay . . . NOW that the elf's stopped talking, between gnaws at his tobaccy-stick...
    "Proprietor, gimme some grog. And get some for this pretty little lady, here, too." <winks at elf, nods, turns back around to face the crowd>

    "Feargal! Little help up front please," the barmaid says before disappearing through the kitchen door.

    Instantaneously, almost magically, a rugged Dwarf with a mass of rust-colored hair flecked with streaks and specks of grey pops up from behind the bar. His attire appears to be an eclectic mix of old, worn adventuring-style odds paired with newer, expensive-looking merchant-style ends, over which a bright white barkeeper's apron has been tied. He quickly surveys the room and smiles broadly at the new faces in town. He draws up a tall mug of a frothy liquid from a keg and sets it down in front of the dusty, tobaccy-stick-chewing man. "Ach weel, m'lad, noo thas'll be th' bayst grog ye'll be havin' 'n a long toime, aye," he says in the most ridiculous 'Dwarven' accent you've ever heard.

    He turns to the brightly adorned elf and whistles long and low. "Faith'n begorrah, lad! I..."

    He pauses, seemingly at a loss for words. A couple of regulars at the bar glance over at the Dwarf with a surprised look on their faces.

    He clears his throat and composes himself. "Ahem, aye... Weel mayt, stranger, th' name's Sunderkeg. Weelcome t' th' Oold Bald One-Eyed Salty Red Dog Tavern! 'n' wheer might ye be hailin' from this foine ayvnin'? Fields af-"

    He stops short, distracted (impossible as it sounds) by something bright and shiny that is, amazingly, not adorning the elf.

    He turns back to the dusty man and says, "Say... 's that a badge yoor weerin'?"

  • #12
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    Blind leads the blind...

    Quote Originally Posted by Ranger Rick
    A person in rattily attired clothes enters soon after the well dressed elf. His clothes are patch worked and not all rips are mended. He walks in and does not stop to affix his eyes to the darkness. In his temporary blind state he almost trips over a bench in the middle of the room. Stopping he sits down and with his gaze no longer fixed on the elf, he starts to look around. Seeing someone near by he studders a question...
    Wah..Wah...Wah...where am...am...am....Where am I? <stares blankly waiting for an answer>

    A red-eyed patron turns towards this lost stranger and affixes him with a bleary stare - that is to say, he would affix him with a bleary stare if only he could figure out which one of them to stare at when they finally stop swirling around in circles. He opens his mouth to speak and you think you hear faintly wailing spirits emerge from his slobbering maw, but realize that it's just a mixture of his belabored breathing and appalling breath.

    "Thish here'sh the bold cold one-redsh sheeing eye dog tav*hick* tav*hick tav*hick* thish here'sh tha bar, mate." He finally gets a fix on you and smiles a sickly smile, revealing sickly teeth. "Buy ush a round, eh? I'll tellsh ya all about it." He quickly jerks his hand up to wave for the barmaid but seems to have forgotten that it was propping up his chin, and with an amazing lack of skill he snaps his head back, flinging his body backward into his chair which promptly turns over, upending him in a heap on the floor. His only reaction to this is, amazingly enough, a loud and pronounced snore.
    Last edited by Lazlow; Friday, 27th May, 2005 at 07:13 PM.

  • #13
    I am now talking to the new Dwarf that has popped from the woodwork."That is the worst outfit I have ever seen. I would suggest some blues like this"

    Point to my pants

    "They will help diguise the natural rouge in your cheeks. Also I would suggest that you try a concentrated style. You appear to be going for 'Adventurer lost in the cave that dressed in the dark whilst being hounded by goblins with pointy sticks.' While that look is doable, you do not have the facial character for it. I would love to be able to assist you in choosing an outfit. However I am still hungry and need to find a way to afford a simple bowl of soup with a crust of bread to sop it up with...And a napkin, maybe a bit of fresh greens as well. A glass of Elven wine would be most acceptible as well..."

    Looking around again I spy the disheveled gentleman that has been following me...

    "and you sir could do with a bit of color as well and a fabric that will allow your skin to breath. it may assist your memory problems to have a headband as well to help hold in those stray thoughts."

    Continuing to rove my gaze::

    "and the decor here is so archaic. I could see some bright yellow or red curtains, the tables could use some cloths to cover them. The patrons all look dismal..Like nothing good ever happens..."

    A look of Surprise for the fellow that collapsed...rushes to try to wake him and help him up

    "Dear sir do you know how unsanitary that is?"
    Last edited by Wystan; Friday, 27th May, 2005 at 04:56 PM.

  • #14
    Quote Originally Posted by Lazlow
    "Thish here'sh the bold cold one-redsh sheeing eye dog tav*hick* tav*hick tav*hick* thish here'sh tha bar, mate." He finally gets a fix on you and smiles a sickly smile, revealing sickly teeth. "Buy ush a round, eh? I'll tellsh ya all about it." He quickly jerks his hand up to wave for the barmaid but seems to have forgotten that it was propping up his chin, and with an amazing lack of skill he snaps his head back, flinging his body backward into his chair which promptly turns over, upending him in a heap on the floor. His only reaction to this is, amazingly enough, a loud and pronounced snore.

    "A...a...a..roun...a round....for you? Hmmm...." He looks around the place..."Eureka!" He takes the table & tilts it so the edge is on the passed out drunks chest. Very polietly he says, "Here...here....here is a round." He goes back and sits down looking befuddled.

    OOC: I wonder if the table is heavy enough to crush the drunks ribcage? (Oh I have str 16)

  • #15
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    New girl in town

    Quote Originally Posted by LogicsFate
    The doors of the tavern fling open as the darkly beautiful young woman with the mysteriously quiet yet impeccably well-dressed companion enter. The woman, a short human with long black hair, a pale compliction and dressed in revealing black leather waltzes up to the bar. She is smiling broadly the entire way. Either talking to her companion or herself...
    "What a gorgeous day, I wish everyday was like this."

    At the sound and sight of the doors being flung open, all but the most inebriated patrons immediately turn to see what the hubbub is (as if there wasn't enough already). And at the sight of the darkly beautiful and scantily clad female that stands there framed by the open doors, those inebriated patrons quickly sober up as their eyes pop open and their jaws fall down. The few womenfolk there are in the tavern seem to sink inward at the sight of the exotic woman - just before they kick their men in the shins for ogling.

    "Have a seat dearie and I'll be with you straightaway," Muirna says, having emerged from the kitchen holding a tray laden with steaming dishes and an impressive bottle of wine, and seemingly unaffected by the bewitching presence of this unorthodox (for these parts, anyway) woman. She pauses at the bar to pick up a clean rag and snap Sunderkeg's agape jaw back into place before making her way over to the table where the tall, gaunt human sits. Setting everything down with an expert flair she says, "I think you'll find everything to your likin', sir. Shall I run ye a tab?" Despite the simple, rustic presentation of the soup and meat, it does indeed smell amazingly good.

    Her tall, skinny compainion follows, dressed head to toe, Clothing covering all flesh. A sword, a bow and a back pack identify a warrior. The woman smacks the bar oblivious to anyone how would care:
    "Hey barman, gimme a, well gimme the special if you have one of those and be quick we're thirsty."

    At the sound of the woman's dulcet tones, Sunderkeg snaps back to attention, wiping a spot of drool off of his beard. The patrons also seem to perk up a bit at the mention of "The Special". Indeed, the dull murmur of quiet conversation all but disappears, and those who were sitting with their backs to the bar turn around to face it.

    Sunderkeg strides over, wiping his hands on a rag, a wide grin on his face. He says nothing as he reaches down under the bar and pops back up with a small crystal glass and what looks to be an obsidian carafe. He puts these on the bar with a flouish and a wiggle of his bushy eyebrows, then reaches down again and takes out a clay jug stoppered with a cork and marked with "XXX" on the side. He then reaches into a pocket and pulls out some goggles, which he then dons, afterwards pulling on some thick leather gloves.

    He uncorks the jug, pouring a bit of what's inside into the glass with a quiet little *burble*, filling it about two-thirds of the way up. It looks mostly clear, with a hint of an amber color. He corks the jug tightly and puts it back under the bar, afterwards pulling up a pair of long-handled tongs.

    Using the tongs, he caaaaaaaaaaarefully takes the stopper off the top of the black carafe, which seems to elicit some strange, almost ghostly *waaailling* noises as a thin whisper of smoke rises out from the top. He sloooooooowly pours about one or two drops into the glass, and as it mixes with the amber liquid, it begins to swirl about wildly, seeming to swirl faster and faster as the seconds pass. He quickly puts the stopper back on the flask and returns it down below, using the tongs all the while, then quickly but carefully picks up the glass. Watching it intently, he takes a step or two back, holds it at arm's length, and, suddenly, it bursts into a shocking blue flame which seems to engulf his entire arm, lighting up the whole tavern with a radiant blue blaze! He waves his arm slowly in a circle, seemingly unaffected by the mystical flames, and after a few moments the strange fire subsides. He sets the drink down in front of the beautiful patron with a smile, and removes his goggles and gloves as a smattering of polite applause and a few "bravo, bravo" comments arise from the regulars.

    "Ach, 'n that'll be on th' hoose," he says with a wink.

    Muirna pauses from cleaning mugs for a moment and looks at Sunderkeg, rolling her eyes. "Good grief..."

    ==================

    OOC: Hope you don't mind Deep Sky Blue.
    Last edited by Lazlow; Friday, 27th May, 2005 at 07:27 PM.

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    Muirna and Ranti

    <taking the glass>"Why thank you lass, and may I say that you would have to be the prettiest dwarven maid I have ever seen. However that color does not highlight or flatter your hair and the tecture is all wrong for your skin type. I would reccomend a less subtle earth tone, maybe overtones of copper thrown in for a mix....Look at me talking, let me introduce myself. I am Ranti Akande, Clothier and Problem Solver supreme. Heck I remember this one time that I was asked to clear a den of 200 Kobolds. At least that is how many it seemed to be when I was done. However I did not stick around long when I was done. They fell before me..."

    <turning a slight green>

    Muirna looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

    "I think that my tales like that might have to wait. They make me slightly queasy.. Anyway, would you be willing to spot me a slight meal, maybe some of that broth or soup that the gentleman over there is requesting."

    She nudges Sunderkeg, who manages to pull his eyes off the leather-clad maiden for a moment and steps over to you.

    "And you sir REALLY need to clean your armor and clothing some more and a bath or at least simple cleaning could do you well. At least you don't carry the stench of carrion on you. I will make do with my water for now."

    OOC: Who are you saying this to?

    I proceed to sip at the water checking for chemical tastes and the like....
    Sunderkeg gives you a quizzical look as you smack your lips and tongue checking the taste. "Yessir?" (continuation of this conversation in next post)
    Last edited by Lazlow; Friday, 27th May, 2005 at 07:44 PM.

  • #17
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    Ranti gives Sunderkeg some fashion advice

    <turning to Sunderkeg>"That is the worst outfit I have ever seen. I would suggest some blues like this" <points to pants>

    "Ach! Weel, I-"

    "They will help diguise the natural rouge in your cheeks. Also I would suggest that you try a concentrated style."

    "Con-"

    "You appear to be going for 'Adventurer lost in the cave that dressed in the dark whilst being hounded by goblins with pointy sticks.'

    "Now s-"

    "While that look is doable, you do not have the facial character for it. I would love to be able to assist you in choosing an outfit."

    "Wh-"

    "However I am still hungry and need to find a way to afford a simple bowl of soup with a crust of bread to sop it up with...And a napkin, maybe a bit of fresh greens as well. A glass of Elven wine would be most acceptible as well..."

    "STOP!!" the Dwarf shouts, then quickly composes himself. "I kin spare ye a bool a soop 'n' a croost a breed, dinna woorry." He disappears into the kitchen muttering. "At least his mouth'll be busy..."

    <looking about> "and the decor here is so archaic. I could see some bright yellow or red curtains, the tables could use some cloths to cover them. The patrons all look dismal..Like nothing good ever happens..."

    "You can say that again," Muirna says quickly, passing by with a tray full of mugs.

    A look of Surprise for the fellow that collapsed...rushes to try to wake him and help him up
    "Dear sir do you know how unsanitary that is?"

    "YOU CAN'T PROVE IT," he blurts out, then turns over with a sneer and nestles up against the chair leg.

  • #18
    OOC: The guy who called me a lass...

  • #19
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    the drunkard's nap

    Quote Originally Posted by Ranger Rick
    "A...a...a..roun...a round....for you? Hmmm...." He looks around the place..."Eureka!" He takes the table & tilts it so the edge is on the passed out drunks chest. Very polietly he says, "Here...here....here is a round." He goes back and sits down looking befuddled.
    The drunk merely grunts before saying, "GET YOUR HANDSH OFFA MY WIFE!" He starts snoring again very quickly.

    ==============

    OOC: I wonder if the table is heavy enough to crush the drunks ribcage? (Oh I have str 16)
    OOC: Nah, it's good.
    Last edited by Lazlow; Friday, 27th May, 2005 at 08:51 PM.

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    Once the fine elf tells my guy to take a bath, he looks down at himself and mutters, "it's road dust . . . I just got off the road . . . I can't have taken a bath before I come in to have a drink, or even get a room . . . you can't avoid road dust on a road . . . " He stands, drinks his grog in a long swallow, and grabs the one he ordered for the elf (without malice) and starts drinking that one while walking from patron to patron in the bar.

    He looks each person (except one) fully from eye to toe and back, clucks his tongue appropriately and rubs his scragly chin. While in front of the woman in leather, he absently says, "should I have shaved, too?" He quickly makes eye contact with her and says, "YOU ever try shaving on a horse on the trail? Only one I ever knew to try that we called Blood-Face, well, after that . . . " He gives a heavy sigh, shakes his head and moves on to her companion, who is the one he does not give a long look to. He just glances at him and moves on to the guy curled up on the floor.

    After taking in each person in turn, he returns to the bar and, to whatever Dwarf happens to be working there at the moment, says "Another beer, and is the chili dog in season? . . . Nevermind, just give me mushrooms, a half-dozen eggs scrambled up with goat cheese, a pound of rashers, and a room for the night. Feel like it's months of straight riding from the duke's keep."

    Then he bides his time . . . soon, my friends, soon . . .
    "Did you see what he was wearing?"

    " . . . yeah. It was cool."

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