Mystara - In Search of Adventure




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  1. #1
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    Mystara - In Search of Adventure

    After finding like-minded souls in search of adventure on your travels between Verge and Threshold you all agreed to met up once more at the Black Jug Inn on Fogor's Isle two days after your return, to plan your new life of excitement and adventure together.

    OOC:
    Adventures won't necessarily be presented to you per se, rather you will need to seek them out via various means. Once you start to adventure you group will begin to earn a name for itself and thus others who hear of this may come seeking you.

    You won't be required to undertake any adventure that you don't want to, and at times you may be presented with more than one offer, so It'll be up to you as to how this proceeds.

    Some of the adventures are fairly short while others are quite in-depth, you won't really know what the case will be until you actually start the adventure.
    I don't suffer from insanity, I enjoy every moment of it.

    PBP Games:
    Active Games
    Rhun's Omega ToEE Game: IC OOC RG
    Prisoners: IC OOC RG
    Epic Mortal Kombat: IC OOC RG
    Tales of a Black Dragon: IC OOC Vorax

    Games I'm DMing
    Dragonlance - Adventures in the Age of Despair: IC OOC RG
    Forgotten Realms - Adventures in Cormyr: IC OOC RG
    Forgotten Realms - RttToEE Agents of the Yaun-Ti: IC OOC RG
    Mystara - Mystaran Adventures: IC OOC RG

    Inactive/Retired games

 

  • #2
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    Ingwë walks through the door at the Black Jug Inn and is greeted by a rush of warmth from the roaring fire. A cacophony of laughter and general mirth penetrates the night's air through the open door and is once again encapsulated as the door swings back shut. In his few months here, Ingwë has visited this Inn on quite a fair number of occasions, feeling a sense of comfort within these walls, a sense of general acceptance.

    Exchanging a nod with the innkeep, Ingwë finds a likely table near the fire, unattended with six chairs loosely scattered around. Grabbing one by the back, he pulls it out and sits awkwardly, leaning his elbows onto the table, observing the entrance. Quickly he is met by the barmaid, smiling shyly as the elf meets her gaze. His eyes drop to the drink in her hand.

    "Spiced water, you call it? Here it is, sir. Did you want any food from the kitchens?" the young lady bites her lower lip and nods over her shoulder toward the stove.

    "Spice water, yes. I thank. For food? Now, no. Later, yes?" Ingwë's grasp of the tongue of man has come along quite well and rather quickly since his adventure out of the forest has began. The nuances and idiosyncrasies of humanity are difficult to grasp, but he is enjoying his time learning, going out and having a purpose other than surviving and hunting.

    The woman smiles and spins around on the balls of her feet, gliding between chairs, tables, and grasping hands. Ingwë watches her walk away before taking a drink of his spiced water. The taste of wine did not settle well with him, nor that of mead, but the clear liquid in his glass reminded him of the streams in Callarh. But the similarities ended there, as his spiced water had one powerful bite, burning his throat as he swallows and leaving his head with a spinning, swimming feeling. This Ingwë liked and continued to slowly drink as he waited for his companions to greet him.

  • #3
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    Jonas walks in the Inn, grinning widely at the familiar place. Spying his new buddy, Ingwe, he walks over, grabbing a mug of ale of a serving wench's tray as he walks past. When he gets to the fire-side table, the dwarf plops the now-empty mug on the table.
    "Well met, pointy. A thousand thanks again for leading me to this watering hole." He pulls out a chair and plops down, signalling for another of what would turn into may drinks.
    aside
    Those that cared to notice would be mildly put off by his speech. Though he had the same, thick gravely voice as most of his people, Jonas Firebeard had grown up among desert barbarians, and had no trace of the typical dwarven accent. His wording, too, tended more towards sandy and nomadic sayings rather than the typical 'by the stones' type of speech more prevalent among dwarves.


    "I have sent word to my people that I will not be returning this year. I'd like to accept your offer to join this adventuring party you're starting." The dwarf nodded and winked at the waitress as she brought him a few more ales. Once she'd gone, he managed to tear his gaze away long enough to glance at his companion "A very comely young wench, but I can't help the feeling that she'd look better with some facial hair..." He chuckled, not even aware that most dwarves wouldn't be caught dead sharing a beer and a joke with an elf.
    Intelligence is the capacity to understand old Ideas.
    Imagination is the ability to come up with New Ideas.

    Eagles may soar, but Weasels don't get sucked into jet engines.

    This isn't evil! You're just a bunch of NERDS!

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    "Gentlemen!" booms a voice, "I have returned! Rejoice or despair, as your temperment dictates, while I drink my fill! Be warned; this might take some time."

    Olaf the Red, grinning a magnanimous grin, stomps his way across the room, graciously acknowledging the various familiar faces that greet him along the way. Winking at the closest barmaid, he raises a hand to forestall her words. "It's true," he confides at the top of his lungs, "I've grown even more handsome in my time away. One would think it impossible, but yet! The immortals have obviously favored me with a miracle we can all enjoy."

    Without waiting for an invitation, Olaf seats himself at Ingwë and Jonas' table. "I'm bored," he admits, lowering his tone a fraction, "Let's do something about that, eh?"
    The Chronicle of Burne, and Some Others of Lesser Importance An epic, of sorts, if your standards are low.

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    Into the tavern walks Korin, several hails from aquaintances slows him, it takes him some time to shake hands and promise stories. Arriving at the table holding his compantions he calls out in a steady deep bass voice "Well met my friends. May the immortals bless our journies, now let me get an ale and we can talk about the future." He waives to the waitress, familiar with him and takes a seat.

  • #6

    Bulboos Quickhands

    Never been in a bar, a pub or a inn, A quite eve with his family back home after a day of hunting, with a pipe in his left and a cup of tea in his right, that is what Halflings call fun, who need the noisy places, filled with drunken humans and grumpy dwarves.
    But … a promise is a promise, he said he was going to meet his new companions in the inn.
    Ah… there it is, the black jug.
    The little figure opens the door, ducks a drunken human and steps inside. He spots the party immediately, waves and goes to the table.
    Human's chair.
    The Halfling mutters as he climbs and addresses the wench
    Hot water, if you may?
    He pulls out some tea leaves and turns to the others
    Howdy, what's new?

  • #7
    Sundim walks through the crowded road. Around him merchants were selling wares, children playing games, parents nearby keeping a close eyes on them; Sundim loved this time of day on this particular road, ideal for Bards and performers. But he was not here to perform.
    As Sundim walks by a merchant’s stall, the merchant says to him, “Would you like to view my wares?” He said it fast as if trying to say it before any passerby was out of hearing range.
    Sundim stops and says, “Err…unfortunately, no. I am not where I need to be right now. Good day to you.”

    Sundim continues down the road, and soon enough, reaches the Black Jug Inn. Sundim enters and takes a look around. He spots the fellow adventures he met earlier at the table closest to the fire. One of the barmaids walks to him with a serving tray. Sundim looks at the tray and says, “No water? Eh, I’ll get something later.” Sundim walks to the table and sits down in the last remaining chair. “So, are we all here now?” Sundim says, and counts those at the table. “Ah, indeed, I believe that is all of us.” The barmaid from earlier comes a places a glass of water in front of Sundim. “Oh, thank you,” He says and takes a sip.

  • #8
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    As the last of your group is seated Old Arn the proprietor of The Black Jug makes his way over to your table, a scowl etched into his lined and weathered face looking at each of you in turn he shakes his head in obviously disappointment "I ain't had the mis-pleasure ta lay me eyes upon a sorrier bunch of miscreants in many a moon, hmph!" he booms in his familiar thunderous voice.

    Reaching up with his still powerful right hand he begins to pull thoughtfully on his well groomed beard.

    Fetching a chair from a nearby table he spins it around and seats himself comfortably at the table, and fixes each of your with a blue eyed glare made all the more fierce by the scar which sketches a vertical line above and below his right eye.

    Breaking into a warm grin full of mirth over his own antics he addresses the table in what can only be called a loud mock-whisper "So gents, to what does Old Arn owe the pleasure of your esteemed company, in my humble establishment so early in the day."

    OOC: Many of you have met and know 'Old Arn' from previous visits to The Black Jug. He is a former adventurer himself of some note, and his enchanted greatsword 'venom tongue' takes pride of place on the wall behind the bar.
    I don't suffer from insanity, I enjoy every moment of it.

    PBP Games:
    Active Games
    Rhun's Omega ToEE Game: IC OOC RG
    Prisoners: IC OOC RG
    Epic Mortal Kombat: IC OOC RG
    Tales of a Black Dragon: IC OOC Vorax

    Games I'm DMing
    Dragonlance - Adventures in the Age of Despair: IC OOC RG
    Forgotten Realms - Adventures in Cormyr: IC OOC RG
    Forgotten Realms - RttToEE Agents of the Yaun-Ti: IC OOC RG
    Mystara - Mystaran Adventures: IC OOC RG

    Inactive/Retired games

  • #9
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    Quote Originally Posted by Lord_Raven88
    Breaking into a warm grin full of mirth over his own antics he addresses the table in what can only be called a loud mock-whisper "So gents, to what does Old Arn owe the pleasure of your esteemed company, in my humble establishment so early in the day."
    Ingwë grins at the man's humor, having taken to enjoy his time spent with Old Arn on those few days he spends here at the Black Jug. With a mischievious smile, he replies curtly, "Always the food."

  • #10
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    Quote Originally Posted by ethandrew
    Ingwë grins at the man's humor, having taken to enjoy his time spent with Old Arn on those few days he spends here at the Black Jug. With a mischievious smile, he replies curtly, "Always the food."
    "Ingwë!" Olaf exclaims, in a shocked tone. "How can you say such things to our dear friend Arn?"

    Turning to the old man, he spreads his hands and smiles. "It's the ale," he explains earnestly. "When viewed through a haze of alcohol, your face is almost bearable."

    Laughing far more than his own joke warrents, Olaf shakes his head and wipes the tears from his eyes. "Tell us a tale, Arn! Surely there's some rumor of interest that's come to rest in those troll-like ears of yours!"
    The Chronicle of Burne, and Some Others of Lesser Importance An epic, of sorts, if your standards are low.

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