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Even Newer Tavern Thread: The Hanged Man
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<blockquote data-quote="evilbob" data-source="post: 5080547" data-attributes="member: 9789"><p>The tavern door opens sharply and an ominous figure looms in the shadow of the evening sun. A few patrons glance up from their drinks as an eerie silence slowly overtakes the establishment, conversations trickling down to a whisper. Suddenly, the hooded figure strides quickly and confidently into the room, slamming the tavern door behind him - at which time the hem of his cloak snags the door as it swings forcibly shut, regrettably catching the stranger mid-stride. It yanks the poor fellow backward clean up off his feet and flat onto his back with an audible <span style="color: DeepSkyBlue">"Ufff!"</span></p><p></p><p>A few onlookers involuntarily wince at the sight, as the stranger, now fully revealed to be an older man with thinning gray hair, turns around to see what caused his head to be so nearly wrenched from his neck. As he does, his pack flops rather ungracefully sideways and into the legs of a nearby dwarven patron, the sudden jolt causing him to spill a large portion of his ale down his front and onto the floor. Angered, the dwarf begins to stand as the stranger scrambles to his feet. <span style="color: DeepSkyBlue">"No, I'm sorry, I'll-"</span> is as far as the old man gets before he rises to his full height, at which point his unrelenting cloak once again proves this distance is simply too great for it to manage. Assisted by the slippery pool of spilt ale, the stranger is again jerked backwards off his feet and flat onto his back. As he falls his legs fly upward, kicking the mug out of the poor dwarf's hands and into the face of his female companion across the table, where it deposits the remainder of its contents. Wet and dripping, she is clearly not amused. His head now impossibly twisted in the cloak, the stranger stammers, <span style="color: DeepSkyBlue">"Oh so sorry, let me-"</span> With a few quick utterances and gestures suddenly the woman's face and hair begin to move with a life of their own, as if guided by unseen hands, and quickly the mess begins to clean itself. Unfortunately, these unseen hands also begin to slowly disrobe her, much to her increasing alarm. <span style="color: DeepSkyBlue">"GAH! That's not what I-"</span> the old man shouts, and with a few more gestures the young lady's clothing suddenly stops moving and small, dancing sparks appear where the hands once were. Surprised, the woman jumps out of her seat, causing the sparks to drop into the pool of ale now left sitting on the wooden chair - which instantly bursts into flames.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: DeepSkyBlue">"NO, hold on, I can fix-"</span> the old man stammers, lunging forward to grab the chair and completely forgetting that his cloak has yet to be untangled from the door. As he slams back to the floor a third time, the flames move from the seat of the chair to its legs, quickly gathering fuel from the old stool drenched in alcohol. Other patrons begin to back away from the small fire, equally eager to put distance between themselves and this odd mage. The wizard's hands move even more rapidly and with muffled words shouted from inside his hood, a full spell is cast: the chair freezes into a block of solid ice.</p><p></p><p>Silence grips the room, and all eyes are drawn to the now frozen chair. The stranger sighs and relaxes on the floor, throwing his hands down in relief. As the tension in the room slowly subsides, the small wooden ice chair cracks gently - and then promptly explodes.</p><p></p><p>Sometime later, a rough-looking bouncer shambles up to a bedraggled old man sitting in the corner still covered in frozen splinters. <span style="color: Sienna">"Name?"</span> he asks coldly. <span style="color: DeepSkyBlue">"Mervin,"</span> the stranger mumbles as he nurses his drink and a bloody nose. <span style="color: DeepSkyBlue">"Should I make some sort of a formal statement?"</span></p><p></p><p><span style="color: Sienna">"I think you've made quite a statement already,"</span> quipped the bouncer.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="evilbob, post: 5080547, member: 9789"] The tavern door opens sharply and an ominous figure looms in the shadow of the evening sun. A few patrons glance up from their drinks as an eerie silence slowly overtakes the establishment, conversations trickling down to a whisper. Suddenly, the hooded figure strides quickly and confidently into the room, slamming the tavern door behind him - at which time the hem of his cloak snags the door as it swings forcibly shut, regrettably catching the stranger mid-stride. It yanks the poor fellow backward clean up off his feet and flat onto his back with an audible [COLOR="DeepSkyBlue"]"Ufff!"[/COLOR] A few onlookers involuntarily wince at the sight, as the stranger, now fully revealed to be an older man with thinning gray hair, turns around to see what caused his head to be so nearly wrenched from his neck. As he does, his pack flops rather ungracefully sideways and into the legs of a nearby dwarven patron, the sudden jolt causing him to spill a large portion of his ale down his front and onto the floor. Angered, the dwarf begins to stand as the stranger scrambles to his feet. [COLOR="DeepSkyBlue"]"No, I'm sorry, I'll-"[/COLOR] is as far as the old man gets before he rises to his full height, at which point his unrelenting cloak once again proves this distance is simply too great for it to manage. Assisted by the slippery pool of spilt ale, the stranger is again jerked backwards off his feet and flat onto his back. As he falls his legs fly upward, kicking the mug out of the poor dwarf's hands and into the face of his female companion across the table, where it deposits the remainder of its contents. Wet and dripping, she is clearly not amused. His head now impossibly twisted in the cloak, the stranger stammers, [COLOR="DeepSkyBlue"]"Oh so sorry, let me-"[/COLOR] With a few quick utterances and gestures suddenly the woman's face and hair begin to move with a life of their own, as if guided by unseen hands, and quickly the mess begins to clean itself. Unfortunately, these unseen hands also begin to slowly disrobe her, much to her increasing alarm. [COLOR="DeepSkyBlue"]"GAH! That's not what I-"[/COLOR] the old man shouts, and with a few more gestures the young lady's clothing suddenly stops moving and small, dancing sparks appear where the hands once were. Surprised, the woman jumps out of her seat, causing the sparks to drop into the pool of ale now left sitting on the wooden chair - which instantly bursts into flames. [COLOR="DeepSkyBlue"]"NO, hold on, I can fix-"[/COLOR] the old man stammers, lunging forward to grab the chair and completely forgetting that his cloak has yet to be untangled from the door. As he slams back to the floor a third time, the flames move from the seat of the chair to its legs, quickly gathering fuel from the old stool drenched in alcohol. Other patrons begin to back away from the small fire, equally eager to put distance between themselves and this odd mage. The wizard's hands move even more rapidly and with muffled words shouted from inside his hood, a full spell is cast: the chair freezes into a block of solid ice. Silence grips the room, and all eyes are drawn to the now frozen chair. The stranger sighs and relaxes on the floor, throwing his hands down in relief. As the tension in the room slowly subsides, the small wooden ice chair cracks gently - and then promptly explodes. Sometime later, a rough-looking bouncer shambles up to a bedraggled old man sitting in the corner still covered in frozen splinters. [COLOR="Sienna"]"Name?"[/COLOR] he asks coldly. [COLOR="DeepSkyBlue"]"Mervin,"[/COLOR] the stranger mumbles as he nurses his drink and a bloody nose. [COLOR="DeepSkyBlue"]"Should I make some sort of a formal statement?"[/COLOR] [COLOR="Sienna"]"I think you've made quite a statement already,"[/COLOR] quipped the bouncer. [/QUOTE]
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