A burly, sandy-haired man with a full, thick beard bursts into the tavern, breathing hard as if he's run hard and fast from wherever he came. "’Elp! M’cellar’s p’ssessed!" he bellows in an accent as thick as an Autumn fog. He’s obviously distraught.
[sblock=Streetwise=10] The man is Varquat Wayne, a brewer in the area that supplies one of the better brews available at the Hanged Man. You've seen him in and out of the Hanged Man before, taking delivery orders. Varquat has, also, been known to be a little “not right” in the head.[/sblock]
“Oi opens th’door to m’cellar a little while ‘go, an’it don’ lead t’m’cellar n’more.”
The bartender moves out from behind the bar, and grabs the man by the shoulders. Looking him in the eye, he attempts a calming look, “You're talking Mr. Wayne. Back up and tell me what happened, but this time start at the beginning.”
"There’s no more ta tell." The big man looks confusedly at the bartender.
"Well for one thing, what did you notice about your cellar that makes you think it's possessed?"
"Oi was jus’ in m’cellar this mornin’, checkin’ th’next keg fer deliv’ry. Oi brings it up ta street lev’l fer th’wagon. When it lef’ with th’keg, Oi turns ‘round ta shut th’door. Oi almos’ closes it full ‘afore Oi notices, but Oi notices. Th’basemen’ was lit, see. Ya know, it’s no good a’keepin’ a torch burnin’ in a brew cellar, so Oi opens th'door 'gain ta go down an’ douse th’flame. Tha’s when Oi saw th’other man pacin’ ‘round in MOI cellar, only th’cellar didn’ look like m’cellar no more. Floor’s all wrong an’ everythin’"
[sblock=Languages: Uneducated British Brewmeisterese] Translation: “There isn’t anything more to tell. I was just in my cellar this morning, checking the next keg for delivery. I brought it up to street level for the wagon. When it left with the keg, I turned around to shut the door. I almost closed it fully before I noticed, but I did notice. The basement was lit, see? You know that it’s not good to keep a torch burning in a brew cellar, so I opened the doors again to go down and douse the flame. That’s when I saw the other man pacing around in MY cellar, only the cellar didn’t look like my cellar any more. The floor was all wrong and everything.[/sblock]
The bar tender puts his arm around the man and leads him to a stool, “Now there, Mr. Wayne. Nobody’s cursed your basement. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for all of this. We’ve got a right bunch of stout people here in the tavern. Maybe you could ask nicely and get some help figuring this out.”
[sblock=OOC] Hello. I'm willing to take on 4 to 5 characters (Level 1-2) for a quick jaunt that may lead to something longer. [/sblock]
