Clockwork, Steam & Sorcery
being a tale of intrigue and adventure in the streets of Arcosia.
The players:
Rogues Gallery can be found here.
OOC Discussion can be found here.
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The sun now rests in the western horizon and the shadows grow long, signalling the end of another day. And now you can relax, because the first day back at classes always seems to be rather chaotic and unbearably long, what with Headmaster Fodstockart's long-winded address, and the customary introductions you must make with your teachers. In your first year, the headmaster's speech seemed fresh and you all took it to heart. Now, many of you sleep through it. But you attend all the first day lectures, because this is your last year as an undergraduate. You had to submit your thesis synopsis, and consult with your advisor, discuss your initial research and revise your work. A long day, with many more to come.
The Hatted Badger earns your patronage not only because it is the pub closest to the University, but the burly proprietor, old Hob provides a variety of food and entertainments, including darts and entertainers. He's also a kindly old man who always has a moment to shoot the breeze with the lot of you.
The Badger's west wall contains a large pair of oaken doors that are currently opened to let in the unseasonably warm breeze and the last of the dying light in. The walls of the common room are plastered with all sorts of posters that the people from the Arcosian Tidings post all over the city every week. The most prominent of the headlines speak of the rash of murders that have gripped the city in terror for over a week now, and Longstock no closer to hanging anybody. A bar sits against the far wall, various liqours displayed behind it, and a behind it leads to the kitchen. Before it there is a long wooden bench for customers. Scattered throughout the room are a number of tables (constructed from pine, for those of you who catch the odour) surrounded by chairs.
Today, the pub is light on patrons. There are the seven of you, and you recognize each other as students of the school whether you are close or not. A struggling young poet stands on the raised stage directly across from the bar reciting his work, and a few regulars sit on the bench before the bar, each nursing a stein of ale.
Hob himself stands by the door, sweeping out the pub. Finishing he pauses, wiping sweat from his brow with a hankerchief. "Bless me! Quite a scorcher today was," he comments, to nobody in particular.
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OOC: Please RP among yourselves for a bit so I've heard from all the players. Please also describe yourself so that everyone can get an idea of your physical appearance.
being a tale of intrigue and adventure in the streets of Arcosia.
The players:
- Argent ~ Forge Ironsong
- arwel ~ Elias Kaerlennon
- Chauzu ~ Phowett Tilverton
- Jemal ~ James Asmuson
- Krug ~ Linda Duxton
- Sixchan ~ Larina Vilardy
- Uriel_fire_of_heaven ~ Froud Galvinium
Rogues Gallery can be found here.
OOC Discussion can be found here.
-----
The sun now rests in the western horizon and the shadows grow long, signalling the end of another day. And now you can relax, because the first day back at classes always seems to be rather chaotic and unbearably long, what with Headmaster Fodstockart's long-winded address, and the customary introductions you must make with your teachers. In your first year, the headmaster's speech seemed fresh and you all took it to heart. Now, many of you sleep through it. But you attend all the first day lectures, because this is your last year as an undergraduate. You had to submit your thesis synopsis, and consult with your advisor, discuss your initial research and revise your work. A long day, with many more to come.
The Hatted Badger earns your patronage not only because it is the pub closest to the University, but the burly proprietor, old Hob provides a variety of food and entertainments, including darts and entertainers. He's also a kindly old man who always has a moment to shoot the breeze with the lot of you.
The Badger's west wall contains a large pair of oaken doors that are currently opened to let in the unseasonably warm breeze and the last of the dying light in. The walls of the common room are plastered with all sorts of posters that the people from the Arcosian Tidings post all over the city every week. The most prominent of the headlines speak of the rash of murders that have gripped the city in terror for over a week now, and Longstock no closer to hanging anybody. A bar sits against the far wall, various liqours displayed behind it, and a behind it leads to the kitchen. Before it there is a long wooden bench for customers. Scattered throughout the room are a number of tables (constructed from pine, for those of you who catch the odour) surrounded by chairs.
Today, the pub is light on patrons. There are the seven of you, and you recognize each other as students of the school whether you are close or not. A struggling young poet stands on the raised stage directly across from the bar reciting his work, and a few regulars sit on the bench before the bar, each nursing a stein of ale.
Hob himself stands by the door, sweeping out the pub. Finishing he pauses, wiping sweat from his brow with a hankerchief. "Bless me! Quite a scorcher today was," he comments, to nobody in particular.
-----
OOC: Please RP among yourselves for a bit so I've heard from all the players. Please also describe yourself so that everyone can get an idea of your physical appearance.
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