Even Newer(er) Tavern Thread: The Hanged Man

Deleted

[SBLOCK=OOC]Leonard, lvl3 Bard is waiting for Gorghor to be recruited for a Chef Request...[/SBLOCK]

orkish_blade said:

"Not interested?" Bones cries incredulously. "I wouldn't say that... I've spent little time among books and scholars, but my old master Fargrim taught me much about the wonders of the deep parts of the world... Rich in history and ancient stories--not to mention treasures. So tell me about your recent discoveries in the libraries of Theotocopolis."

Click to expand...

"Oh, that's very good, very good. I must confess, I was worried about what you'd, er, think of me, but you've been kind enough. Anyway, you haven't seen my friend, so there's no point in me being here. So goodbye."

"Unless, huh, unless of course you are doing nothing and you wanted yo help he look for Thogorius. Come to think on it, he's probably back at home and I'm making a mountain out of a grain of sand. Either way, if we, huh, find him or he's at home you could hear, if you're interested, what he had to say, no?"

Those who wanted to help Domenicos' friend get themselves magically transported to this thread.

A strange buzzing noise heralds the coming of the newest occupant of The Hanged Man. The front door swings open, a Warforged steps though, distinguishable by the furs and totem displayed and the odd bumpy/pebbled look of the outer skin.

"We are Queen" comes a very mechanical sounding voice, as the Forged examines the people and the room before sitting.

A man, a very fat man, enters the tavern. He keeps his hair very short, and his rotund body is covered by a expensive velvet robe. Despite that, the shine of oil and grease in his hands and the state of his nails reveal frequent artesanal work.

He's followed by a very strange figure, speaking in relative terms. Is a tall automaton, a clockwork man built of steel plates, silver and copper. He walks his a whirring sound and clanks quietly as he looks around. Curiously, he's armed with a sword and carries a wooden slab at his back that may or may not be a shield



"Greetings, everyone!" says the man. "I'm Optimus Veridian, artisan extraordinaire. I intend to win the contest that every ten years Thadeus, tyrant of Sevilya, holds in his great palace."

Optimus wipes the sweat from his brow with a decorated handkerchief.

"That contest, as you surely know, is to the most ingeniuos, clever and inventive of toy makers. The winner is to be rewarded with his weight in gold, which in my case, is enough to retire. And I will win, because I'm sure to win. Behold my creation, Prime. Say hello, Prime."

The automaton raises his hand and gestures. Simultaneously, some tiles in his chest that you didn't notice before start twirling and spinning, finally forming letters:


"Marvelous! Isn't it hot here? Let me sit down" says the fat man. "Anyway, you can't tell me it isn't fantastic. Prime has independent thought, integrated but removable armor plating, can function indefinitely thanks to the perpetual motion machine that powers him, and has a complete programming for personal protection. I though at first making him a dancer, but Thadeus is not called tyrant for nothing, so I thought he'd appreciate the thought."

Optimus rests on his chair, breathing heavily.

"The thing is, the contest is usually a close one. Is public that I intended to participate in it, and competition is ferocius. I fear some of them may want to win by eliminationg the rest of the contestants, so I though on hiring some... experienced... oh gods... my left arm, it hurts like being stabbed by a thousand... knives"

And with these words Optimus falls to the floor. A patron quickly approaches and checks him.

"He's dead. A heart attack"

Hearing this, prime releases some steam that whistle with a sad sound. The tiles whirl and click.

This. Place. Is. Amazing! Artemis wasn't joking, every second a new learning experience, EEP! The over-excited scholar buzzes around the two new entrants, looking closely, but never touching. He seems to ignore the death of the over-weight-gentleman, as if dead people were old hat.

My goodness, look at you two, please tell me as much about yourselves as you'll tolerate? I'm already enthralled, never worked with anything so advanced! The young man in the velvet purple robes swishes, and the golden tiger stripes sway, as he attempts to view the newcomers from every angle.

Suddenly he stops, Terribly sorry, all apologies, I'm Gil. With the introduction out of the way, he continues to ogle the machines.

"Yes, we go now. The sooner we are looking, the sooner we are finding, indeed?" The 'kreen's mandibles clatter and squeal while he talks, but the approximation to common coming from his mouth gets easier to understand as you spend more time around him.

"Remember me if my clutchmates come looking?"He asks the bartender. "I be back soon"

Terribly sorry, all apologies, I'm Gil.

Click to expand...

Queen stands perfectly still throughout the events and proceeding clamour. Only the movement of optical lenses suggest that the Forged is active at all.
After a long moment Queen moves taking measured strides, the Forged stands directly before Prime at arms length. Another pause gauging Primes own movements, then a simply buzzing question.
"What do you what?" Not spoken with malice or condescendingly, just a simply question.