New Tavern Thread: The Hanged Man

[OnlytheStrong]

Shorrin grasps the offered hand, "No, I am not familiar with your race. To be quite honest I know little of any but my own kind. Yet, I am eager to learn what I may."

"I have been taught, and I believe, that we all have a destiny. We all travel a path that was is ours and only ours to fulfill. As you say, if you died for a single life, it was your destiny to protect that life. We cannot fight against our deaths, but we can struggle for another's life. In the end, does that not matter more?"

Shorrin finally releases the offered hand, smiling as he does so. "I fear I do not yet know what distinguishes the killer who covets gold for the hero who covets life. I am afraid all I can do is continue down the path I have chosen, to confront the destiny that lies before me. By the grace of the gods may the legend of Shorrin and his mighty allies be one of heroes protecting the land, instead of a band of hired blades."

 

[changer]

But now onta happier matters, yer tunic looks like it could be using a good wash, maybe ye let Janus take a look, if ye don't mind, do ya Janus? He's real good at cleaning up."

"Don't listen to Murphy too closly friend, I don't clean, I let the winds of magic do that. No effort really." Janus quips, winking at Murphy. Anything to takes his mind off what the fates have wrought.

 

[H.M.Gimlord]

Now I'd be careful throwing around talk of such large amounts of gold spendin' there be scallywags and brigands in here these days, watch yer coinpurse.

"Of gold, I've no need.
Of armor, I have plenty.
It's money well spent.

And it's all gone now,
execpt for the ale I drink.
Make it two, Barkeep!"

...yer tunic looks like it could be using a good wash, maybe ye let Janus take a look, if ye don't mind, do ya Janus? He's real good at cleaning up."

Mikara laughs, "The tunic carries the blood of 28 dead..." Mikara leans in close to the human's face and the smile instantly vanishes into a serious and angry glare. She jerks her thumb back at her chest. "Of which I was the last. Care to make it 29 tree killer, ...earth spoiler, ...sunchoker?" Mikara laughs and turns her attention back to her ale.

Human men, only one thing on their mind. Sheesh.

 

[renau1g]

"Well, I must be sayin' yer looking fairly hale and hearty for one o' the dead. Who ye be callin' tree killer? I ain't never hurt no tree, but I'm fer thinking that may be some sorta threat? Like I warned ya when ya came in, this ain't the place fer the idle threats or a loose tongue. Daunton ain't Bacarte, but it also ain't yer forest there either, just a word ta the wise" Murphy replies, his voice taking a steely tone to is as well, his countenance hardens as he speaks, but for a moment, then its gone, replaced by a large friendly smile as he turns back to Janus.

 

[Ghdeh1]

A thin human opens the door. Saying with a hoarse voice he announces his name. "I am Alek. Warlock extrodinare" With inconspicious ease he moves through the crowd and sits down at a table, ordering a small drink as he goes. Anyone who might recognize him notices a rod handing from his belt that glows with a violent red.


[sblock=ooc]Alek's back to the tavern.[/sblock]

 

[RedBeardJim]

Gellan listens to the conversation between the tall monstrous-looking creature and the calm being sitting at a table. These are people of honor, people who understand loyalty and duty, never mind their appearance, he thinks to himself. He approaches the table slowly, nodding to the odd purple man. On closer inspection, his dark brown hair is tightly braided in a simple but distinctive pattern, and tattoos resembling the paw of a cat are visible on the left side of his face and right forearm.

"If I understand you right, you are asking why we seek this life, to fight or die for others. For me, it is a duty to my people. There is a threat looming over them, that may destroy them, but we cannot discover what it is or when. I am sent here to try and find out more, to seek knowledge in this place of knowledge. It is far from my people, so far I cannot hear them, cannot feel them -- but I cannot forget them or my duty. We are not a poor people, but we do not have wealth as it is counted here. Everything has a cost, even to breathe the air it seems. So I must earn that wealth as I can."

He reaches over his shoulder to touch one of his hilts. "I have skill with these. I killed the beast to make this armor with them. With my skill, I can continue my task."

 

[H.M.Gimlord]

Mikara chugs both beers, stands up on the bar, and begins to sing (obviously the ale is a bit strong tonight, and her tolerance is low from a long day of fighting).

She dances across the bar, stepping from table to table. She reaches into a bowl of salt and holds it up to her face as if it's some small pet.

This knalt sows not
of tut he walks. He
dales upon the said oak

(she sprinkles the salt on the table)

and draws the fence
to his transgression
lest his boat get sod cloaked.

(she lifts her armor to reveal her own blood-soaked tunic)

His davor sighs
and fakes a tense when
pearls won't graze pathetic oats.

Then gives advice
on how to talk to
irate panda cut-throats.

(she steps over to Murphy and Janus, putting her arms around their shoulders and looking from one to the other).

Don't pepper me
with compliments
It's lunch to mate Thor fat sir,

but I'm not mad,
I'm folking pun. It's
shust a jame achoo whir.

Mikara laughs and slumps into a seat between Murphy and Janus, eyes half shut on account of the speed with which she downed the last two ales, arms still around their shoulders.

"I've aught a guydiea. Die won't you chive me a gance to get more tud on my bloonic, and you can lash it off waiter."

[sblock=Translation for those who've chosen 'Drunken Barmaidese' as their language]This salt knows not
of what he talks. He
sails upon the dead oak

(she sprinkles the salt on the table)

and throws defense
to his transgression
lest his coat get bloodsoaked.

(she lifts her armor to reveal her own bloodsoaked tunic)

His savor dies
and takes offense when
girls won't raise their petticoats.

Then gives advice
on how to talk to
pirates and to cut-throats.

(she steps over to Murphy and Janus, putting her arms around their shoulders and looking from one to the other).

Don't pepper me
with compliments
It's much to late for that sir,

but I'm not mad,
I'm poking fun. It's
just a shame that you were.

"I've got an idea. Why don't you give me a chance to get more blood on my tunic, and you can wash it off later. [/sblock]

 

[OnlytheStrong]

"If I understand you right, you are asking why we seek this life, to fight or die for others. For me, it is a duty to my people. There is a threat looming over them, that may destroy them, but we cannot discover what it is or when. I am sent here to try and find out more, to seek knowledge in this place of knowledge. It is far from my people, so far I cannot hear them, cannot feel them -- but I cannot forget them or my duty. We are not a poor people, but we do not have wealth as it is counted here. Everything has a cost, even to breathe the air it seems. So I must earn that wealth as I can."

He reaches over his shoulder to touch one of his hilts. "I have skill with these. I killed the beast to make this armor with them. With my skill, I can continue my task."

Shorrin looks at the man curiously. "You have skill indeed, if you made that armor. I cannot say I have done the same."

The dragonborn stands offers a polite half-bow. "I am Shorrin." Shorrin's ears catch the majority of Murphy's conversation, and he gives a rapid glance in that direction.

 

[DMDanW]

A handsome half elf walks in accompanied by a warforged, who seems to be carrying the conversation between the two. They quickly find a table and just before they sit down it strikes the half elf that he has forgotten something. “The names Dextyr M’rgan for those who don’t know me” and with that gives a slight salute to the singing and apparently somewhat drunken Mikara.

The warforged orders drinks for Dextyr and Mikara and shortly after the drinks arrive a somewhat annoyed messenger imp enters the bar and sternly reminds the warforged that he is due back at the office. With that the warforged excuses himself from the table and hurries off behind the Imp.

Those taking a look at Dextyr notice that although it appears that his hair is freshly washed and combed back, and his face is clean, his cloths are dirty and stained with what can only be dried blood and dirt. A lot of blood and dirt.
After the warforged leaves Dextyr calls over to Mikara with a merry grin stretched across his face. “Care to join me for a drink punch-sister?”


[sblock=OOC]
Dextyr M'rgan returning to the hanged man. Apparently he couldn't keep all those strikers alive...
[/sblock]

 

[H.M.Gimlord]

Mikara turns her head from between her two, newly found 'companions' and blearily nods in Dextyr's direction, "Exmuse key.." she pats the men on the back, grabs Murphy's drink, politely finishes it for him, smiling as she sips the last bits of foam from the mug, and staggers over to Dextyr. Slumping down, she signals the bartender for yet another ale, then giggles something to Dextyr on a breeze of alcoholic vapor, "They all drink I'm thunk!"