Even Newer(er) Tavern Thread: The Hanged Man

[Darksteed]

*Hunzu turns and leaves with the rest of the group heading out of the tavern*

 

[Pliantreality]

Nalkyr slid into the room quietly. He wasn't normally the type of person who enjoyed being needlessly mysterious. Hood up, sticking in the shadows. It wasn't something he enjoyed.

Nonetheless, after accidentally drooling on himself at an earlier bar, the young eladrin felt mildly self-concious about his disfigurement. Even if the scar tissue didn't draw inordinate amounts of staring, having his hood up and being quite made Nalkyr feel better. For now, that was enough.

The eladrin found a booth from which to watch the rest of the tavern, and itched idly at his scar. It traced a puckered, angry line from where his left earlobe should have been, over his cheek, and to his lip. The twisted skin pulled the corner of his mouth up into a constant snarl. If Nalkyr himself didn't look so young and inexperienced, he imagined the scar would've been intimidating.

The eladrin raised a single finger ordering a drink and leaning back with a sigh.

 

[Son of Meepo]

OOC: Welcome [MENTION=6686815]Pliantreality[/MENTION], please make sure you add your character to the approval request wiki page, so that the character reviewers can make sure everything is legal.

 

[CaBaNa]

*Hunzu still standing moves over next to Kamotz. He fixes his top hat as he stands beside him. His voice entering the head of Kamotz in the familiar hollow sounding tone.*

"Kamotz will you be in need of further assistance? I am for higher once again after all."

Ah, someone I can trust. Good to see you Hunzu, yes, I'm sure you'll be useful. Says the shifter in as warm of tones as Kruor has heard yet. That is, if this turns out to be anything like that crypt.

"Let's go. Kruor, watch and learn. And we'll get you some gloves so you don't kill people by touching them. For now, as Kamotz says, your change starts now."

Kamotz looks toward the voice, Didn't see you there Demonslayer. Glad to see you along as well.

Hearing Eloan give an order to move out, Kamotz puffs up, I don't remember you being apart of my pack before. Scratch that, many should stay, this place is known to be attacked by criminals. Kamotz nods again to the bartender. The bartender shrugs and nods at the same time to Eloan, not wanting to explain why the cities underbelly would target The Hanged Man, or why it was never reported.

The fey is right though, we should move quickly. says the shifter in deference to the former Watchman.

The shifter and his mount carefully exit after Kruor.

OOC: I don't know why, but I've always gotten the feeling that the bartender is an epic level good character, facilitating an underground adventurers guild in secret. Not even the adventurers know his overarching plan to "clean up" Daunton and the surrounding isles by offering free beer for adventurous stories, and a name upon entering the bar.

 

[WEContact]

Nalkyr slid into the room quietly. He wasn't normally the type of person who enjoyed being needlessly mysterious. Hood up, sticking in the shadows. It wasn't something he enjoyed.

Nonetheless, after accidentally drooling on himself at an earlier bar, the young eladrin felt mildly self-concious about his disfigurement. Even if the scar tissue didn't draw inordinate amounts of staring, having his hood up and being quite made Nalkyr feel better. For now, that was enough.

The eladrin found a booth from which to watch the rest of the tavern, and itched idly at his scar. It traced a puckered, angry line from where his left earlobe should have been, over his cheek, and to his lip. The twisted skin pulled the corner of his mouth up into a constant snarl. If Nalkyr himself didn't look so young and inexperienced, he imagined the scar would've been intimidating.

The eladrin raised a single finger ordering a drink and leaning back with a sigh.

Caim watches the comings and goings of the varied and sundry tavern-dwellers with a lack of interest. Two manage to catch her eye, simply by virtue of their having entered the tavern without clear purpose, like her. Rikkon's name she notes; the other appears not to have heard the rule this dive apparently expected newcomers to have heard.

Caim refills her glass of bourbon, and takes it over to a table near the hooded newcomer's booth. "They're never going to bring you the drink you're signaling for," she says to the empty seat next to her. The newcomer hadn't sought out any company, and Caim didn't plan on imposing any more than she felt she needed to. If this man wanted to hide his face and sit by himself, who was she to invade his space and peer under his hood? "The bartender only serves patrons whose name he knows. You have to introduce yourself before you can wet your tongue."

OOC: A lot's happened in here since Caim took her seat, so I thought I'd repost this OOC bit since I think it got overlooked. Introducing Caim, Level 1 Temperavir (Half-elf) Battlemind|Fighter. Is that font too hard to read?

 

[stonegod]

OOC: It's a bit dark for me.

 

[treex]

"You! You were at the temple! You have to help me! Just after you left we were attacked. Robed figures stormed our peaceful temple! They threw the wounded into the streets. They killed my acolyte, demanding to know where it was! It! They had to be talking about... that... thing!" His hand points shakily at Kruor.

"Please, you must help me! I slipped away, but there were more people inside!"

With the old man's shaky hands, Kruor didn't really understand. Why is he pointing at so many things at once? And how can his fingers move so fast. Looking around himself, he saw a few mugs of mead.

"Oh! Oh! Does old man mean this? Is this what the people were looking for?" Kruor exclaimed excitedly. He picks up the cup and offers it to the old man, his eyes lighting up blue. Kruor's slack jaw seems to be an indication of what may be a smile.

Not the Temple I had in mind. states the shifter, as he scratches at his head. He looks at Kruor, then back to the priest This smells of Lauto's Luck. The shifter draws his flail again, smiling this time at Kruor Penance seems to have come for you by fate, lead the way, this may be your lucky day.

"Oh, yes! Wolf man is smiling at me. Kruor must be right." Kruor's blue eyes light up even brighter. His naive joy is not unlike that of a young child.

EDIT: Holding the mug of mead, Kruor follows the crowd. With the old man leading the way.

OOC: "Let's go. Kruor, watch and learn. And we'll get you some gloves so you don't kill people by touching them. For now, as Kamotz says, your change starts now." Has Kruor had any prior interaction with um...I don't think I've even caught his name. All I know is that...you're a blind elf? Or are you the changeling that mimicked the snobby messenger. EDIT: Oh! Oh! The Undead Hunter has officially started! I didn't know =w=

 

[Pliantreality]

Caim refills her glass of bourbon, and takes it over to a table near the hooded newcomer's booth. "They're never going to bring you the drink you're signaling for," she says to the empty seat next to her. The newcomer hadn't sought out any company, and Caim didn't plan on imposing any more than she felt she needed to. If this man wanted to hide his face and sit by himself, who was she to invade his space and peer under his hood? "The bartender only serves patrons whose name he knows. You have to introduce yourself before you can wet your tongue."

The eladrin nearly started at the half-elf's appearance at his table. He unknitted his fingers from on his chest, realizing that he had managed to shoot right past 'quietly unobtrusive' to 'overtly unobtrusive'. Nalkyr grimaced, offering her a shrug.

"Apologies." he said, doing his best not to lisp. "Got distwa-"

Nalkyr paused. He hated R's.

"Got distwact- hmmf. Got distracted." he managed. The young eladrin motioned to the chair next to him. "Pwease take a seat. Don't mean to be unsociable."

Nalkyr drew back his hood, the awkward mangling accent having marked his disfugrement well enough. He twitched a smile at the half-elf, emphasizing the side of his mouth that worked well enough.

"Nalkyr Vai." he said, tapping a finger to his chest. Nalkyr glanced past her at the bar. "I should tell them, huh."

Later. He wasn't in the mood to drink. This was more a business trip than it was a matter of leisure, anyway. The eladrin returned his eyes and attention to the half-elf, raising both eyebrows in question.

"Who do I have the pweasure- the pweasure of-" Nalkyr grunted, sublimating his frustration. "What's y'name?"

 

[Neurotic]

"Name is Illarion Merielle, Kruor. Come. In my first steps I would've appreciate any help. You're lucky."

Blind elf catches Kruors robe and lets the construct guide him out.

OOC: yes, he's blind elf and he's the changeling. If you can beat insight DC in high 20s or low 30s you may even have some notion that he's not blind elf

 

[JoeNotCharles]

OOC: Catching up on what my characters have been doing while I was idle...

The dirt mound crumbles into Earth's shape, that with a heavy stomp rises to his height.

Ironheart, roots still planted firmly in Earth, tumbles over with a crash as the other warden shifts out of position. He still does not wake from his dreaming memory. His bark is beginning to appear pale and dry - perhaps he's been under a roof for too long.

After a whispered consultation, a team of bouncers drags him to the front door and tosses him into the street like a common drunk. One of them tosses his axe out the door after him. Revived slightly by the breeze, Ironheart curls a protective limb around the axe's long haft.

OOC: Ironheart is out in an adventure; I played that as having him still be in the tavern and "remembering" what had happened to him recently. Now he's not even in the tavern...

7 Rabbit, has been staring in fascination and trying not to be noticed since the Shade performed its murder (hard to do when wearing such outlandishly coloured armour). As the team of undead hunters leaves, he quickly comes to a decision, drains his mug, jumps to his feet, and hurries to catch up with them.

OOC: Rabbit leaves an joins The Undead Hunters

Tarkus, in the far corner of the bar, has been keenly interested in several of the people asking for aid, but the crush of people have made it hard to get close. And somehow, although there are worthy causes aplenty here, they don't seem to be calling to him. "Plenty of others here to take care of these people," he mutters to himself. "Juna is telling me to wait. She must have a special task for me." Patrons nearby edge away from the severe looking, mumbling ascetic.

OOC: Tarkus the Crusaer, Level 5 Human Cleric, available to aventure. Although he's my 3rd char, so people without 2 chars already adventuring have priority!