Mewness
First Post
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Even Newer(er) Tavern Thread: The Hanged Man
Mewness
First Post
The door swings open and a very stylishly attired kenku struts in. While most kenkus are just about indistinguishable from each other--to humans at least--this one is most distinctive, owing to the presence of several bright gold feathers breaking up the black plumage at his throat. His beak is also not the usual plain black, but is beautifully painted with a design showing the sun, moon, and stars following each other across a sky that changes from day to night. The kenku sets it all off with a fancy purple cape with gold trim and a short, ornately carved staff with an enormous glowing crystal set in the top. The staff is clearly some sort of magical implement, but the kenku seems to carry it only for style.
"Smith," the kenku says to the bouncer in a dignified tone. "Harold Smith." His voice is rich and melodious, almost hypnotically pleasing to the ear. The bouncer rolls his eyes at the kenku's name, but makes no comment. The kenku scans the tavern for a few moments, lifting one hand to wave cheerily at Yishim, Fredrock, and Eithal.
"Perhaps you can help me, my good man," the kenku continues. "I am looking for a friend. A most distinctive lady, very fine of feature--a long, elegant face, delicate snout, scales a subtle olive green tinged with gold, favors a long robe--yes, indeed she is a lizard-woman, did I pretend otherwise? Have you seen her or not? No? Well, then why not say so immediately?" The kenku moves over to the bar, muttering "Imbecilic doorman," under his breath, and asks to consult a wine list.
"Smith," the kenku says to the bouncer in a dignified tone. "Harold Smith." His voice is rich and melodious, almost hypnotically pleasing to the ear. The bouncer rolls his eyes at the kenku's name, but makes no comment. The kenku scans the tavern for a few moments, lifting one hand to wave cheerily at Yishim, Fredrock, and Eithal.
"Perhaps you can help me, my good man," the kenku continues. "I am looking for a friend. A most distinctive lady, very fine of feature--a long, elegant face, delicate snout, scales a subtle olive green tinged with gold, favors a long robe--yes, indeed she is a lizard-woman, did I pretend otherwise? Have you seen her or not? No? Well, then why not say so immediately?" The kenku moves over to the bar, muttering "Imbecilic doorman," under his breath, and asks to consult a wine list.
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A crack of thunder booms overhead as it starts to rain outside. With a crash the door of the tavern bursts open. Into the tavern walks a figure clad in black scale mail. Its face is fully obscured with a horned helm and and a skull adorns the center of the mail chest-piece. Despite its short stature the figure radiates an aura of menace and fear.
It clomps over to the bar, slams down on a seat next to Eithal and pounds its fist on the bar. What does one have to do to get some sherry?! the voice shouts in a deep booming voice. After several moments it yells again Don't make me come back there and do it myself!
Finally the person gives up and turns to the drink Eithal brought in. Don't mind if I do, it says, grabbing a nearby glass and stabbing its sword into the barrel to fill it.
Finally the creature takes off its helmet. You are met with nature's most terrifying creating, an elderly human woman. She has long white hair and a wrinkled face. She quaffs her drink in one gulp, spilling most of it on the ground. Much better, she say, smacking her lips. Kids there days don't know how to hustle!
So dear, what's your name? She asks Eithal, getting another drink. Mine is Beatrice Wellington. Don't suppose you've heard of me since I've been stuck in bleeding Ravenloft for the last ten years. I guess you've heard of my son Tarquin? Should still be lord around here....
Anywho it is nice to be back, away from all the Gothic horrors and all that. Oh the stories I could tell you! she says, then turns around and stabs the thief who was about to pick her pockets in the chest with her sword.
Now what was I about to say? she asks as the thief staggers off. Well nevermind, it will come to me in time. Anyone knows what happen to that good-for-nothing grandson of mine, Sharpe? I hope he became something respectable, like a dark lord, and gave up all that bard nonsense!
[sblock=ooc]
Level 7 or 8, hybrid Blackguard|Warlord, werewolf, Ravenloft veteran, at-will spamming striker/leader/defender, scary elderly women and grandmother to my bard Sharpe, ready to save the lizardfolk! (and perhaps procure a new lizard handbag in the process.
Character sheet still under construction.
[/sblock]
It clomps over to the bar, slams down on a seat next to Eithal and pounds its fist on the bar. What does one have to do to get some sherry?! the voice shouts in a deep booming voice. After several moments it yells again Don't make me come back there and do it myself!
Finally the person gives up and turns to the drink Eithal brought in. Don't mind if I do, it says, grabbing a nearby glass and stabbing its sword into the barrel to fill it.
Finally the creature takes off its helmet. You are met with nature's most terrifying creating, an elderly human woman. She has long white hair and a wrinkled face. She quaffs her drink in one gulp, spilling most of it on the ground. Much better, she say, smacking her lips. Kids there days don't know how to hustle!
So dear, what's your name? She asks Eithal, getting another drink. Mine is Beatrice Wellington. Don't suppose you've heard of me since I've been stuck in bleeding Ravenloft for the last ten years. I guess you've heard of my son Tarquin? Should still be lord around here....
Anywho it is nice to be back, away from all the Gothic horrors and all that. Oh the stories I could tell you! she says, then turns around and stabs the thief who was about to pick her pockets in the chest with her sword.
Now what was I about to say? she asks as the thief staggers off. Well nevermind, it will come to me in time. Anyone knows what happen to that good-for-nothing grandson of mine, Sharpe? I hope he became something respectable, like a dark lord, and gave up all that bard nonsense!
[sblock=ooc]
Level 7 or 8, hybrid Blackguard|Warlord, werewolf, Ravenloft veteran, at-will spamming striker/leader/defender, scary elderly women and grandmother to my bard Sharpe, ready to save the lizardfolk! (and perhaps procure a new lizard handbag in the process.
Character sheet still under construction.
[/sblock]
The door creaks open and a hooded figure walks in. His cloak clings to his skin, drenched and dripping. Yet, the figure shows no sign or aftereffects of the cold, nor does he bother to try and get dry. There are various bumps and outlined corners on his back, beneath his hood, as though it were some sort of backpack under the cloth.
He stands there, by the door, letting in wild howl of cold air. A nearby waiter scuttles up to him and reprimands him for doing so, closing the door promptly.
A rumble comes from the man "...rrrrrry..."
"Excuse me?" the waiter asks.
"Meeee...me say Kruor saawwwrrrrryyy..."
A rusty hand reaches for his hood, and peels back the dripping cloth from his face. His head is crusted in brown and streaks of spattered dry blood can be clearly seen all over his face. His head consists of nothing but two eyes and a menacing jagged lower jaw.
His previously yellow eyes flash blue. He looks down at the waiter again (who was clearly terrified) and studies her for a while.
"Meee...Kroor...Kror...Kor...Koreee...*whiiirr whiiiir whiiir*...you can call me...Corey...Cooooorreeeeyyy....*whirrr*"
[sblock=OOC] Kruor Sytis (last name is placeholder) Warforged Vampire, which I reskinned into a normal robot. Currently has 1 approval.
Uhm...I've never been in the Tavern long, but I like Kruor enough that I want to take him for a spin. So here he is.[/sblock]
He stands there, by the door, letting in wild howl of cold air. A nearby waiter scuttles up to him and reprimands him for doing so, closing the door promptly.
A rumble comes from the man "...rrrrrry..."
"Excuse me?" the waiter asks.
"Meeee...me say Kruor saawwwrrrrryyy..."
A rusty hand reaches for his hood, and peels back the dripping cloth from his face. His head is crusted in brown and streaks of spattered dry blood can be clearly seen all over his face. His head consists of nothing but two eyes and a menacing jagged lower jaw.
His previously yellow eyes flash blue. He looks down at the waiter again (who was clearly terrified) and studies her for a while.
"Meee...Kroor...Kror...Kor...Koreee...*whiiirr whiiiir whiiir*...you can call me...Corey...Cooooorreeeeyyy....*whirrr*"
[sblock=OOC] Kruor Sytis (last name is placeholder) Warforged Vampire, which I reskinned into a normal robot. Currently has 1 approval.
Uhm...I've never been in the Tavern long, but I like Kruor enough that I want to take him for a spin. So here he is.[/sblock]
Walking Dad
First Post
Vimak Stonecarver, Goliath Runepriest 9
Vimak finally joins his companions at their table.
[sblock=ooc]
sheet is ready, but not approved
[sblock=Mini stat block]
Vimak Stonecarver
Perception: 16 Insight: 21 Normal Vision
AC 25 Fortitude 21 Reflex 19 Will 21
Initiative: +6
Hit Points: 70 / 70 Bloodied: 35
Temporary Hit Points: 0
Resist: -
Saving Throw:
Action Points: 1 Second Wind: 1
Milestones: 0.5
Healing Surge:17 Surges per day: 10 / 11
At-Will Powers: Word of Diminishment, Word of Binding
Encounter Powers: Rune of Mending 2/2, Stone’s Endurance, Walk it Off, Flames of Purity, Symbol of Wrath Reversed, Word of Befuddlement
Daily Powers: Rune of Endless Fire, Shield of Sacrifice, Cage of Light, Rune of Shielding
Condition: +1 AC from friendly area(s)
WoD (Destruction)
W3 gains vulnerability all 2 (but 5 vs OAs) until next round
RUNESTATE: DESTRUCTION
- adjacent allies gain +1 to attacks vs enemies adjacent to Vimak (none)
Battle Wrath
Vimak deals 4 extra damage to enemies who hit him in the previous round.
Runestate (Protection)
adjacent allies have resist all 2
[sblock=Dread Weapon]
Critical: +1d6 damage per plus, and the target takes the weapon’s enhancement bonus as a penalty to defenses and checks until the end of your next turn.
Power (Daily ✦ Fear): Free Action. Use this power when you hit with this weapon. The target takes the weapon’s enhancement bonus as a penalty to defenses and checks until the end of your next turn.
[/sblock]
[/sblock][/sblock]
Vimak finally joins his companions at their table.
[sblock=ooc]
sheet is ready, but not approved
[sblock=Mini stat block]
Vimak Stonecarver
Perception: 16 Insight: 21 Normal Vision
AC 25 Fortitude 21 Reflex 19 Will 21
Initiative: +6
Hit Points: 70 / 70 Bloodied: 35
Temporary Hit Points: 0
Resist: -
Saving Throw:
Action Points: 1 Second Wind: 1
Milestones: 0.5
Healing Surge:17 Surges per day: 10 / 11
At-Will Powers: Word of Diminishment, Word of Binding
Encounter Powers: Rune of Mending 2/2, Stone’s Endurance, Walk it Off, Flames of Purity, Symbol of Wrath Reversed, Word of Befuddlement
Daily Powers: Rune of Endless Fire, Shield of Sacrifice, Cage of Light, Rune of Shielding
Condition: +1 AC from friendly area(s)
WoD (Destruction)
W3 gains vulnerability all 2 (but 5 vs OAs) until next round
RUNESTATE: DESTRUCTION
- adjacent allies gain +1 to attacks vs enemies adjacent to Vimak (none)
Battle Wrath
Vimak deals 4 extra damage to enemies who hit him in the previous round.
Runestate (Protection)
adjacent allies have resist all 2
[sblock=Dread Weapon]
Critical: +1d6 damage per plus, and the target takes the weapon’s enhancement bonus as a penalty to defenses and checks until the end of your next turn.
Power (Daily ✦ Fear): Free Action. Use this power when you hit with this weapon. The target takes the weapon’s enhancement bonus as a penalty to defenses and checks until the end of your next turn.
[/sblock]
[/sblock][/sblock]
As more members make their way to the table the cleric makes a sigh of relief. I'm glad that everyone has made it back in one piece. You have done quite well. Four orbs have been found...three more to go. Good news on that front. We have located a 5th orb, which was acquired by one of my most trusted friends. On the way back to Daunton he was captured by a group of goblins. There is no need to worry yourself about that one as i have hired a group of adventurers to find him and in turn retrieve the orb. I've heard that they have met some resistance, but have made progress.
He then shuffles some papers and then finds the one he wants. I have a possible lead on the location of the six orb... (waiting on the others before continuing on)
[sblock=Trogdor Roll Call]
Quan
Rocco
Nementah
Halleck
Vimak
Waiting on Skalisss and Raijin
[/sblock]
He then shuffles some papers and then finds the one he wants. I have a possible lead on the location of the six orb... (waiting on the others before continuing on)
[sblock=Trogdor Roll Call]
Quan
Rocco
Nementah
Halleck
Vimak
Waiting on Skalisss and Raijin
[/sblock]
stonegod
Spawn of Khyber/LEB Judge
Damen, who had been chatting up a receptive female patron—Phoenix and Bell ignoring his administrations—wanders towards the back with his new acquaintance.
The door opens again and what at first glance appears to be a goliath wanders in. In the direct light of the fire, however, this impression quickly fades. The creature appears almost skeletally thin, the strength of a goliath wasted away. His flesh is ashen, an unhealthy pallor, pale patches where lithoderms might have been. His face is slack and grim at once. But most offsetting is the eyes, an unnatural red spark in the dark orbs.
The creature shuffles into the center of the room. It dully looks at the sign handing above the bar, as if trying to remember the proper protocol. This goes on for just long enough to be uncomfortable before it opens its mouth, about to speak.
And that's when its shadow killed it.
It happened so fast—one moment, the undead thing was about to speak, the next, its shadow wrapped around its throat. The creature didn't even have time enough to moan before it had fallen to its knees, fighting the shadows wrapped around its neck. It was over is seconds: The undead thing let out a chocked-off gurgle, fell heavily forward, and then burst into flames, reducing to ash in moment.
The shadow, now resolved into a figure wrapped in dark clothes and leathers the color of the witching hour, makes a arcane gesture. Fallen thing, your debt repaid//Cannot escape, Her lord's domain.
His chant done, the man carefully lowers his cowl. His features are unremarkable save for their unremarkability. He would never be picked out in a crowd. He bows, introduces himself as Dox, Hand of Her Lady, and casually sits in a shadowed portion of the tavern without further word.
The door opens again and what at first glance appears to be a goliath wanders in. In the direct light of the fire, however, this impression quickly fades. The creature appears almost skeletally thin, the strength of a goliath wasted away. His flesh is ashen, an unhealthy pallor, pale patches where lithoderms might have been. His face is slack and grim at once. But most offsetting is the eyes, an unnatural red spark in the dark orbs.
The creature shuffles into the center of the room. It dully looks at the sign handing above the bar, as if trying to remember the proper protocol. This goes on for just long enough to be uncomfortable before it opens its mouth, about to speak.
And that's when its shadow killed it.
It happened so fast—one moment, the undead thing was about to speak, the next, its shadow wrapped around its throat. The creature didn't even have time enough to moan before it had fallen to its knees, fighting the shadows wrapped around its neck. It was over is seconds: The undead thing let out a chocked-off gurgle, fell heavily forward, and then burst into flames, reducing to ash in moment.
The shadow, now resolved into a figure wrapped in dark clothes and leathers the color of the witching hour, makes a arcane gesture. Fallen thing, your debt repaid//Cannot escape, Her lord's domain.
His chant done, the man carefully lowers his cowl. His features are unremarkable save for their unremarkability. He would never be picked out in a crowd. He bows, introduces himself as Dox, Hand of Her Lady, and casually sits in a shadowed portion of the tavern without further word.
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I've been planing this forever.
Iron Sky
Procedurally Generated
Phoenix glances up at the old woman, takes a drink, then walks over. "I thought I heard something about him, trying to start a duel with some warforged that was missing as many gears as Sharpe. Then something about a pet dragon." She shrugs. "All I heard, sorry."
She half-watches as the man is killed by his shadow, her eyes widening in delight as he bursts into flames. Still smiling, she raises her glass to Dox. "Well done, I like your style. Come have a drink with me and grandma here."
stonegod
Spawn of Khyber/LEB Judge
The man inclines his head and them makes his way to two ladies, one young, one old. 'Shroud of the Unliving.' Very expensive; our order reserves it for very special cases.
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