Even Newer Tavern Thread: The Hanged Man

A rotund dwarf wearing dark blue robes enters the tavern, looking haggard, and glances around. He approaches the bartender. "7 Rabbit," he introduces himself. "Have my late companions been here recently? Several gith, a large warforged, and a human wizard, plus some others we met on the road."

"Aye, but you missed em" says the bartender. "Left fer the Drowned Man with another dwarf not long ago. Heard them askin about you, but nobody knew where you'd got to, so they left without ya."

"Oh," says Rabbit sadly. "I wish I could have caught them. I never got a chance to thank them properly for their help. But I couldn't have gone with them anyway. I'm afraid my adventuring days are over." He sighs heavily, then brightens a bit. "Unless you've heard rumours of a ritual or magic item or something to restore a broken mind that I could quest for?" The bartender shakes his head, and Rabbit sighs again.

"Well, I've settled my brother at a hospice run by the sisterhood of Mireva. If anyone comes looking for me, could you send them there?" The bartender nods and makes a note in a large ledger. 7 Rabbit exists, looking dejected.

The tavern door opens sharply and an ominous figure looms in the shadow of the evening sun. A few patrons glance up from their drinks as an eerie silence slowly overtakes the establishment, conversations trickling down to a whisper. Suddenly, the hooded figure strides quickly and confidently into the room, slamming the tavern door behind him - at which time the hem of his cloak snags the door as it swings forcibly shut, regrettably catching the stranger mid-stride. It yanks the poor fellow backward clean up off his feet and flat onto his back with an audible "Ufff!"

A few onlookers involuntarily wince at the sight, as the stranger, now fully revealed to be an older man with thinning gray hair, turns around to see what caused his head to be so nearly wrenched from his neck. As he does, his pack flops rather ungracefully sideways and into the legs of a nearby dwarven patron, the sudden jolt causing him to spill a large portion of his ale down his front and onto the floor. Angered, the dwarf begins to stand as the stranger scrambles to his feet. "No, I'm sorry, I'll-" is as far as the old man gets before he rises to his full height, at which point his unrelenting cloak once again proves this distance is simply too great for it to manage. Assisted by the slippery pool of spilt ale, the stranger is again jerked backwards off his feet and flat onto his back. As he falls his legs fly upward, kicking the mug out of the poor dwarf's hands and into the face of his female companion across the table, where it deposits the remainder of its contents. Wet and dripping, she is clearly not amused. His head now impossibly twisted in the cloak, the stranger stammers, "Oh so sorry, let me-" With a few quick utterances and gestures suddenly the woman's face and hair begin to move with a life of their own, as if guided by unseen hands, and quickly the mess begins to clean itself. Unfortunately, these unseen hands also begin to slowly disrobe her, much to her increasing alarm. "GAH! That's not what I-" the old man shouts, and with a few more gestures the young lady's clothing suddenly stops moving and small, dancing sparks appear where the hands once were. Surprised, the woman jumps out of her seat, causing the sparks to drop into the pool of ale now left sitting on the wooden chair - which instantly bursts into flames.

"NO, hold on, I can fix-" the old man stammers, lunging forward to grab the chair and completely forgetting that his cloak has yet to be untangled from the door. As he slams back to the floor a third time, the flames move from the seat of the chair to its legs, quickly gathering fuel from the old stool drenched in alcohol. Other patrons begin to back away from the small fire, equally eager to put distance between themselves and this odd mage. The wizard's hands move even more rapidly and with muffled words shouted from inside his hood, a full spell is cast: the chair freezes into a block of solid ice.

Silence grips the room, and all eyes are drawn to the now frozen chair. The stranger sighs and relaxes on the floor, throwing his hands down in relief. As the tension in the room slowly subsides, the small wooden ice chair cracks gently - and then promptly explodes.

Sometime later, a rough-looking bouncer shambles up to a bedraggled old man sitting in the corner still covered in frozen splinters. "Name?" he asks coldly. "Mervin," the stranger mumbles as he nurses his drink and a bloody nose. "Should I make some sort of a formal statement?"

"I think you've made quite a statement already," quipped the bouncer.

An older man strides into the tavern, looking around at all of the customers. His clothes were in taters, singed and ripped. His hair was white and unkempt, and the man bore the roughest of beards. But the looks of his possessions, he was a wizard. He scanned the crowd, but his face grew distressed. Finally, he spoke to the bartender.

"This is of grave importance. I must find Nim--" the wizard stopped himself, holding his hand up as if asking the barkeep to wait, "I must find Tessa Tressd'n." The barkeep showed no signs of recognition, so the wizard continued, "She is a wizard. Short..." He continued to describe her, with unusual uncertainty, until finally the barkeep showed a spark of recognition.

"Yea, yea, I think I do remember this girl. A few days ago, there was a young wizard in here. That name sounds about right. She left with some other adventurers for the Isle of Isceald. It's one of the transitive islands. Something about it just reappearing; it's a mining island. Not much there but a port and a mine. I can't recall all of the details," The bartender said.

"Thank you, sir," the old wizard said, leaving some coin on the table and moving with haste to the door. But before he left, his eyes met Mervin's. "You. I require your assistance. I am the wizard Vrynn, of the Imperium, and I am in search of my student Tessa. She is like a daughter to me, and I have traveled many leagues, through many horrors, to find her again. But I grow weak. Help me summon the portal to this island she has gone." His old eyes looked pleading.

Mervin continues to sip his drink. Slowly he becomes aware of several other patrons staring at him in anticipation. "Hmm?" He looks around. "Oh, me! Oh." As Mervin stands, his chair falls backwards to the ground, causing him to sigh and roll his eyes. "Sure, why not? That is, well, if you don't find me too bold, I could uh, use a bit of coin to help pay for some, um... damages," he says, glancing meekly at the bartender, who gives him a nasty look. "Do you happen to know the fair market value for an old bar stool?"

"Just... get out," the bartender snarls.

"Right then!" Mervin quickly gathers his pack and heads for the door, giving a wide berth to the angry dwarf and his female companion. "So," he says to the old wizard, "what was your name again? Verne? And you just need help with a ritual?"

A young girl walked in, her face stuck in a book. She looked to be in her early teens with pale blond hair falling loosely about her face. She stands not so tall at just over five feet and is rather thin. He clothes are simple with a loose shirt and pants, work boots and heavy cloak. The other things she carries about her mark her profession distinctly however.

On her back is strapped a well ladden pack. Her belt holds a multitude of pouches and an oddly colored option can be seen. On one hip rests a small shield, and the on the other a sheathed sword.

"Bell the point." She says casually to no one in particular. She looks up from her book but doesn't seem to find anything of interest so she takes a seat at a table and continues her reading.

[sblock=To those who have met Bell before]It has been seven days since she left the Isle of Haurton. She has been busy with the monks and learning new rituals.

She is not wearing her hide armor, and while she is not entirely clean, she is much cleaner than before.

If you met her in the tavern before her last adventure she may seem a little taller.[/sblock]

[sblock=to DMs]Bell is a level 2 Bard, not far from level 3. She is set to adventure when JoeNotCharles adventure starts, so is not currently available for other spots. She has one of two approvals for level two.

Once she is approved my 2nd Character will be submitted and will be available to start adventuring. His character sheet is all set. He is a level 1 Dragonborn Paladin.[/sblock]

[sblock=To JoeNotCharles] I'm disapointed to hear that 7 Eagle is retiring. He was, to me, one of the most interesting characters. I hope you keep him around as an NPC and he continues to look for the warriors of storm.[/sblock]

Not long after Bell, serious half-elf dressed in blue coat, trimmed and neat enters.

Looking shortly over patrons, he nods to innkeeper and starts toward him when he notices Bell reading.

"That wouldn't be something we wrote, would it, little one?" he says with a smile.
"While we wait for others, would you care to go with me to dance this evening?"

OOC: for DMs, same as Bell except Martelai is second level warlock
OOC2: Scorpius, call on the date is based on a) Bell's charisma, b) her behaviour toward Martelai and c) she's only girl in the group and it's hard to play catch with NPCs - make of it what you will...

[sblock=Brews]
Brews is the barkeep in LEB [/sblock]

[sblock=7Rabbit]
*spits out ale* He's retiring? Must've missed that? Where'd JNC mention that[/sblock]

Bell looks up only briefly from her reading and smiles at the half-elf. "Hello Martelai, you forgot to introduce yourself." She says quite plainly. Rules are rules after all. It was only a moment later that she considered the rest of his words. Dancing? How odd? Social movement is often held with high importance. It is fun though, but not the work of serious heroes. Stories often end with dancing though. In fact one might call it a traditional celebration of heroes noted for their joy. She looks at Martelai again.

Perhaps there is more joy there than I can perceive.

"This book is dictates the history of many of the Jade Empires noble houses." Bell states. "I did not see any of our groups names listed as author. I gave my journal to the bartender for transference to the IAC a few days ago." In fact one might notice the book she was reading was written in Tsugo.

"I have not yet learned a ritual to produce music." The sing song of her voice poised the end of the statement as if it was a question.

[sblock=ooc]I inferred 7Rabbit retiring based on the post by JNC at the top of this page.

Bell would not infer that Martelai's request indicated any sort of dating.[/sblock]

[SBLOCK=OOC]Nope, he isn't. He will master a game where 7 Rabbit will be the the person hiring I think.

Also, I am waiting for a second approval for a short adventure where 7 Rabbit will be part of (and he will also be recruiting for that adventure). All is linked with the story around his borther 6 Eagle (look at 6 Eagle down adventure DMed by Mal Malenkirk).[/SBLOCK]

Brews

renau1g said:

[sblock=Brews]
Brews is the barkeep in LEB [/sblock]
Eh, too much of both worlds !? I'll edit right away


"I've been here already and introduced myself. Hardly do I need to do it again, especially to you."
Martelai seems puzzled about Bell's words of producing music
"Erm, there will be musicians to produce music, our part is to dance, that's the point of going out dancing. We celebrate our victory. And somehow, I cannot see either Veruzak or Atlas dancing. Altough Kent might."
he smiles
"Will you come?"

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