New Tavern Thread: The Hanged Man
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- Start date
garyh
First Post
Growl, Warforged Duid 1
A strange, almost feral warforged approaches Yelder. "I have fought goblins before," he says in a rumble, "and would eagerly do so again. My name is Growl." Growl nods at Adran, pleased to see the half-elf also interested in this opportunity.
[sblock=Character Status]Growl just received his second approval today.
He is my second character, so I'll defer if there are enough first characters fill the party.[/sblock]
[sblock=Growl's Info]Growl- "Male" Warforged Druid 1
Initiative: +0, Passive Perception: 19, Passive Insight: 19
AC: 17, Fort: 14, Reflex: 11, Will: 16 - Speed: 6
HP: 30/30, Bloodied: 15, Surge Value: 7, Surges left: 11/11
Action Points: 1
Powers:
Chill Wind
Pounce
Savage Rend
Wild Shape
Darting Bite
Second Wind
Warforged Resolve
Faerie Fire
Full character sheet[/sblock]
A strange, almost feral warforged approaches Yelder. "I have fought goblins before," he says in a rumble, "and would eagerly do so again. My name is Growl." Growl nods at Adran, pleased to see the half-elf also interested in this opportunity.
[sblock=Character Status]Growl just received his second approval today.
He is my second character, so I'll defer if there are enough first characters fill the party.[/sblock][sblock=Growl's Info]Growl- "Male" Warforged Druid 1
Initiative: +0, Passive Perception: 19, Passive Insight: 19
AC: 17, Fort: 14, Reflex: 11, Will: 16 - Speed: 6
HP: 30/30, Bloodied: 15, Surge Value: 7, Surges left: 11/11
Action Points: 1
Powers:
Chill Wind
Pounce
Savage Rend
Wild Shape
Darting Bite
Second Wind
Warforged Resolve
Faerie Fire
Full character sheet[/sblock]
Last edited:
You hear a commotion coming from the portal to Baccarte.
A backpack and a bundle of weapons flies through the portal, following by a gnome trussed in chains like a birthday present made of cold-forged iron. Pairs of strong hands grip each of the gnome's limbs. Another hand covers his mouth. The little creature struggles, snarling.
Just as the hands hurl the gnome into the tavern, you hear a male scream.
The gnome, chains rattling, picks himself up off the floor, chuckling to himself. Blood smears about his mouth.
From the other side of the portal, you hear a nervous, but officious voice pronounce, "Hacker Brass, for public intoxication, drunk-and-disorderly behavior, vandalism, indecency, and lewdness, you are hereby now-and-forever banished from the Isle of Baccarta. Have you any last words?"
"Yeah," says the gnome in a voice as broad as the ocean and deep as a grave, "Tells one of your constables he forgot something."
The gnome spits a finger back through the portal.
You hear another scream from the other side, followed by hysterical blubbering. "Close the portal! Close the ***** portal!"
A official copy of the proclamation and a key sail through the portal, landing at the gnome's feet, just as the gateway closes.
Chuckling in a manner reminiscent of a rabid dog growling, the gnome picks up the key and unlocks his chains. He rubs his wrists and pops his neck, muttering, "Bunch of ***** pansy ***** pirates."
"Bartender!" the gnome begins, shouting over his shoulder.
Before the little fellow even finishes the word, a bottle of prime whiskey slams against the bar-top, followed by a glass. The bartender steps away, sweating.
"Well, hell," says the gnome, turning around, "I must've been here before."
The bartender, eyes to the floor, nods nervously.
As the black-clad gnome steps into the light, you get a good look at his face.
He is entirely hairless, lacking even eyebrows or lashes. His skin has an unhealthily pale pallor. It is pocked with what may have been marks of disease or burning. The entire left side of his face is a mess, the scar tissue drawing up his lip into a perpetual sneer.
He has crazy, crazy eyes.
He climbs up and stands on top of the bar. Kicking the drinking glass to the floor, he throttles the bottle of whiskey with both hands. The bottle is easily half his height.
"Hail to the Badger King, baby," he says, slugging back the bottle and drinking half its contents.
Then, he looks at the bartender, giving him a contemptuous half-nod. The bartender sighs with relief, mops his brow, and returns to work.
The gnome raises his arms, presenting himself to all present, like a god-emperor blessing his people. "My name is Hacker Brass. If I was twice as tall, I'd be four times the man you are. Which one of you sons of ***** has got a job? And which of the rest of you sons of ***** wants an adventure?"
A backpack and a bundle of weapons flies through the portal, following by a gnome trussed in chains like a birthday present made of cold-forged iron. Pairs of strong hands grip each of the gnome's limbs. Another hand covers his mouth. The little creature struggles, snarling.
Just as the hands hurl the gnome into the tavern, you hear a male scream.
The gnome, chains rattling, picks himself up off the floor, chuckling to himself. Blood smears about his mouth.
From the other side of the portal, you hear a nervous, but officious voice pronounce, "Hacker Brass, for public intoxication, drunk-and-disorderly behavior, vandalism, indecency, and lewdness, you are hereby now-and-forever banished from the Isle of Baccarta. Have you any last words?"
"Yeah," says the gnome in a voice as broad as the ocean and deep as a grave, "Tells one of your constables he forgot something."
The gnome spits a finger back through the portal.
You hear another scream from the other side, followed by hysterical blubbering. "Close the portal! Close the ***** portal!"
A official copy of the proclamation and a key sail through the portal, landing at the gnome's feet, just as the gateway closes.
Chuckling in a manner reminiscent of a rabid dog growling, the gnome picks up the key and unlocks his chains. He rubs his wrists and pops his neck, muttering, "Bunch of ***** pansy ***** pirates."
"Bartender!" the gnome begins, shouting over his shoulder.
Before the little fellow even finishes the word, a bottle of prime whiskey slams against the bar-top, followed by a glass. The bartender steps away, sweating.
"Well, hell," says the gnome, turning around, "I must've been here before."
The bartender, eyes to the floor, nods nervously.
As the black-clad gnome steps into the light, you get a good look at his face.
He is entirely hairless, lacking even eyebrows or lashes. His skin has an unhealthily pale pallor. It is pocked with what may have been marks of disease or burning. The entire left side of his face is a mess, the scar tissue drawing up his lip into a perpetual sneer.
He has crazy, crazy eyes.
He climbs up and stands on top of the bar. Kicking the drinking glass to the floor, he throttles the bottle of whiskey with both hands. The bottle is easily half his height.
"Hail to the Badger King, baby," he says, slugging back the bottle and drinking half its contents.
Then, he looks at the bartender, giving him a contemptuous half-nod. The bartender sighs with relief, mops his brow, and returns to work.
The gnome raises his arms, presenting himself to all present, like a god-emperor blessing his people. "My name is Hacker Brass. If I was twice as tall, I'd be four times the man you are. Which one of you sons of ***** has got a job? And which of the rest of you sons of ***** wants an adventure?"
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Velmont
First Post
Feyr, Bladling Invoker 1
The bladeling asks the barman two drinks. He then walk to the group that is gathering. "Well, I am short in my ressources, so a contract might be a good thing before I continue my personal quest." He than hand one of the mug of ale to Yelder and keep the other for himself.
The bladeling asks the barman two drinks. He then walk to the group that is gathering. "Well, I am short in my ressources, so a contract might be a good thing before I continue my personal quest." He than hand one of the mug of ale to Yelder and keep the other for himself.
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TwoHeadsBarking
First Post
Yelder shrugs as he takes the drink, "All magic is unnatural in my book. But I ain't fool enough to turn away from what works."
"I dun like talkin' any more than I have to, so I'm not goin' into the whole thing until a couple more folks show up. Fer now I'll tell ya that a small town by the name of Hilgrund is havin' some trouble. They're bein' hit hard by goblin raiders, and apparently there's something strange goin' on with the wildlife too."
"Yer a strange one, aren't ya? Never seen anything like you before." He drains his first drink, wipes his mouth on his sleeve, and reaches for the new one. "But you folk are always a bit strange. Some in the head, some in the body."
[sblock=roster]So far we have the following:
Adran - Leader
Alek - Striker
Feyr - Controller
Growl - Controller
KenHood, is that guy an adventurer or an adventure hook? Or both?[/sblock]
The door opens, and a cloaked figure comes through, stooping to avoid the top of the doorframe. His crossed swords glimmer on his back- one larger with a dull gleam, and one smaller with a purple shimmer. He stares suspiciously at the side of the doorframe as he passes, then moves quickly to the bar. "Some ale, please, and any food you've got in here. I'm famished!" He turns to survey the other occupants, and a bristly lip curls as he inspects the gnome.
Right behind the bugbear is is a dwarf dressed in jet black plate. "Sorry for the smell lads! My adventuring companions and I just got down killing a black dragon in the sewers." To the bartender Kruk states "if you'd like, I can mount the head on the way as a trophy...I'll take a large ale...and get one for my friend Grim there...thanks!...yes... run the usual a tab."
Kruk starts towards the bar, but then stops as he hears a group talking about a goblin threat. Kruk walks up to the group and introduces himself. "I'm Kruk, one whose handy with an axe and can take a hit." He surveys the group before him. "If your look'n to kill goblins, you might need one like me to help you out. And I'd be more than happy to."
[sblock=twoheadsbarking]
If you are in need of a defender, Kruk is more than willing.
[/sblock]
Kruk starts towards the bar, but then stops as he hears a group talking about a goblin threat. Kruk walks up to the group and introduces himself. "I'm Kruk, one whose handy with an axe and can take a hit." He surveys the group before him. "If your look'n to kill goblins, you might need one like me to help you out. And I'd be more than happy to."
[sblock=twoheadsbarking]
If you are in need of a defender, Kruk is more than willing.
[/sblock]
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"Hmm... goblins. Never liked them much. They always seemed like the red-headed stepchildren, y'know? In any case, if Kruk is throwing in his hat, I'll go along as well."
[sblock=ooc]
Lvl 1 ranger, just a touch of xp away from lvl 2
Looks like you could use a striker there.[/sblock]
[sblock=ooc]
Lvl 1 ranger, just a touch of xp away from lvl 2
Looks like you could use a striker there.
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