Even Newer(er) Tavern Thread: The Hanged Man

[Dekana]

OOC: Neat idea for the character(s), twilsemail.

Lenard casually places his spellbook on the table while the pixies cause a scene. He opens it to the first blank page and prepares a quill, although he does not start writing yet.

All the talk of ale from the pixies starts to get Lenard thirsty. After the irrgeulars have placed their own orders, he requests some "strong rum" from the serving girl. He then motions to Hú Lí and cheerfully says "And something for the lady, to help her think of her song. If our friend here does not wish for a tale about home, perhaps some other faraway land comes to mind?"

 

[Pentius]

Noriaki's head swirls a bit as his table gets more and more crowded and the various fae swarm around the room. "Where's that dragonborn, anyway? By the Thunder..." He looks up at Hu Li, responding to her in the high court dialect of Tsugo. "It seems our company is not inclined to hear the songs of our homeland, and it is far from my place to gainsay him at this time. As for drinks, there are no traditional drinks here," he says with a slight hint of disdain, "But if you do not despair of the local color, simply ask the small maid for one. That is how one orders a drink in these lands, I have learned." He perks up at the end, a twinkle in his eyes as if he has shared knowledge of a not so obvious trick.

 

[twilsemail]

"Welcome to the Hanged Hobgoblin, good captain."

"Greetings to you, friend. Has there been any news of late? My men and I are eager for work." The captain, with a remarkable display of willpower, resists the urge to ask Sound of Stone what he is.

OOC: Thanks Dekana. The idea struck me while I was statting out my first PC but I figured I should bring in something more traditional to start. Non-traditional PCs like Toeto helped as inspiration.

 

[Cleverusername]

The door opens and a man enters, closing the door behind him and his eyes scan the room.

"I am Corvus Raine. I am here to find some allies." he says succinctly.

Corvus was tall, taller than an average man, and he was a rather inconspicuous figure. He is quite wiry, slender to the point of gaunt. Corvus' face was one of edges and angles, striking without being handsome, and the gaze of his green eyes piercing. Hair once brown had grayed; it hung just past his neck, giving him a vaguely feral demeanor. The middle-aged man stepped into the tavern and approached the bar, taking a large mug of what passed for ale, and turned back to the large number of patrons, exotic all of them, and took measure of each of them.

 

[pacdidj]

The tavern door swings open once again to reveal a slightly plump old woman in a motley assortment of stylish leathers, a patched and threadbare old cloak, outlandish-looking goggles, and a somewhat smashed pointed grey hat. She favors everyone in the tavern with a beaming, if slightly batty smile. "Hello again dearies! The name's Mabbeth Tarmikos for those that don't know me, but you can just call me Auntie Mab. Everyone does." Shuffling over to the bar, she flags down the barkeep with a floral pattern handkerchief, "We'll have the usual please, love."

The barkeep returns with a cup of tea for the old lady, and a shot of bourbon, which she hands to a disheveled-looking brown rat perched on her shoulder, who takes the shot glass in his forepaws and begins to gulp its contents down with abandon. "Tristram, you might want to go easy on that whiskey," she says to her furry companion. "I'm not sure it's going to help your seasickness love." The rodent pauses his quaffing only long enough to rebuke Auntie Mab with an irritable *Squeak!* before continuing to guzzle his beverage. "Well, suit yourself."

Sipping her tea, the odd old woman surveys the bar's patrons, and notices a familiar face. "Why Raijin, there you are! Oooh, and I see you've made some new friends. Good for you! Mind if I join you dearies?," she asks with an ingratiating smile.

 

[johnmeier1]

I do not think there are any more chairs at this table, Mab. Though if you wish to sit you may have mine the robed, pale man says without rising.

 

[Neurotic]

Forgotten in Mab's hurry to get her rat drunk and greetings of a companions, a blind elf stands forlornly near the door before starting toward the bar, his staff tapping.

"Illarion Merielle, at your service. Tea if you please, bartender." he turns slowly, his white blind eyes visible to all. He sniffs at the air, focusing toward every full table for a moment, turning his head this way and that and cocking it aside to listen better before nodding toward people, ignoring empty tables.

 

[twilsemail]

A tiny grig, the smallest member of the Irregulars, gasps at the sight of the abandoned blind man. He bounds across the room and clings to Illarion's shoulder. A high pitched voice calls out, "I can help you, master." The word is used respectfully, not obesciently.

 

[pacdidj]

I do not think there are any more chairs at this table, Mab. Though if you wish to sit you may have mine the robed, pale man says without rising.

"Oh, that's alright dearie. No need to get up," Auntie Mab says, completely missing missing the sorcerer's attempt to deflect her chipper babble. "I'll just pull a chair over," she declares as she whisks a chair right from under the descending behind of a hapless halfling patron with remarkable speed, causing him to topple to the ground in confusion.

She then sits down at the table with a contended smile, as Tristram begins to snore on her shoulder, having drunk himself into a passed-out stupor. "Well, aren't you going to introduce me to your new friends dearie?," the old lady asks, smiling sweetly at Raijin. But then she hears a familiar voice from the front of the Tavern...

"Illarion Merielle, at your service. Tea if you please, bartender."

"Yoohoo! We're over here Illarion dearie! Raijin and me," she calls out much too loudly.

"He's blind you know," Auntie Mab adds in an aside to Raijin's "new friends," as though this somehow explains her bellowing, "Can't see a thing the poor soul. Must have to hear his way around I suppose," she finishes with a none-too-subtle wink at Raijin.

 

[Mewness]

A very odd figure walks into the tavern. It is short, barely five feet tall, and very broad shouldered, but surely no dwarf was ever so gaunt: the figure’s close-fitting black armor shows it to be almost skeletally thin. It is helmeted, gloved, and wears a finely carved wooden mask that completely covers its face; not an inch of bare skin is visible. The figure pauses, and there is some sort of presence, perhaps some psychic emanation, that makes it seem larger than it is. It begins to speak, its voice hollow-sounding, almost woody, and quiet enough to contrast oddly with the grandiosity of its words:

“To all puissant warriors, powerful athletes, poetic songsters, deft-fingered musicians, and folk with more eclectic talents, King Itztecolotl of Cactitzatziliztli sends his greetings. My king (long may he reign) has ordered that I, Tlacamatli, come to this place and say these words: The time has come to celebrate a most joyous event, the marriage of Princess Ihhuicac, shining ornament of Cactitzatziliztli. The king has declared that there shall be a great Games held in her honor; and the people that come to honor the Princess’s union shall see such a spectacle as will make the Gods themselves strain to watch from their heavenly seats. The king desires contests of arms, foot-races, obstacle courses, poetry, song, dance, music, storytelling, and, of course, Ullamaliztli. For the victors there will be rich and rare prizes; for winners and stragglers alike there will be feasting and merriment. Who then wishes to display their skills before my king and his people? Who is ready to journey to Cactitzatziliztli and compete with the best?”

After this speech, Tlacamatli falls abruptly silent.

[sblock=Religion 20 or History 22; subtract 4 from DCs if you are Magari]The carved mask the figure wears indicates that he was a favored retainer who died in a Magari king’s service and has been rewarded with a second (undead) existence as a wight.[/sblock]
[sblock=Adventure!]My adventure has been approved, so I am recruiting 1st level characters (1st level only, please). My preferred number is five, but I can probably handle six.

Please note that this will be a LONG adventure, possibly an entire adventure path; if you are unsure of your ability to post regularly for a long period, you should consider waiting for a shorter adventure to arrive. Also note that this is an ISOLATED adventure--it will be well-nigh impossible to get you out of it should you decide that you don’t like it, don’t like me, don’t like your fellow players, etc. If you decide that you want to do something else, you might be better off just generating a new character.

This adventure is a conversion of Souls for Smugglers’ Shiv, the first adventure in the Serpent’s Skull series by Paizo. If you have played or read the modules in this series, please do the honorable thing and recuse yourself.

Because this adventure is long (and I may in fact run as much of the series as is possible before nobody is interested in playing 4e anymore) I would very much like the characters to have as much synergy and cover as many bases as possible. This would be a good time to collaborate on character design with other people, if you’re interested in doing that.[/sblock]