Prophet's Blood

[Notmousse]

Just outside the halls of Thomas' Tumbler, on the veranda under the mace and scripture a few ranchhands congregate. They talk of their animals, including a single prize bull that's sitting beside the veranda ready to be sold. A wandering merchant has come to see the ranchhands, several aides nearby surveying the area.
Just inside the Tumbler several farmers are celebrating a hard week at the farms as they sing an old battle hymn of the goblins which once plagued the area.

Where there's a whip; At this the men all stomp their feet
There's a way;
We don't wanna go to war today;
But the master of the lash says nae nae nae;
Gonna march all day all day all day.

Further inside the first floor a mysterious stranger sits at the south side of the bar near Franklin's quarters. He wears a great cloak, that shimmers slightly in the light as he puffs upon a pipe packed with a sweet blend that surrounds him in a perfumed aura.
The second floor is mostly deserted aside from a private party within one of the rooms. Anyone passing by would blush.
The third floor is currently being prepared for some new arrivals and is off limits.
Within the loft several old men are drinking, empty bottles of rot gut mixed with cheap wines and good ales. A serving girl is bringing up another order of alcohol, with a platter of meats, cheese, and crackers.

Please place yourselves as you see fit.

 

[Ivellious]

A small dullish copper scaled kolbold sits by himself in a corner of the bar. He watches intently as the commoners drink a sing a goblin warsong. Idoits, they don't know what that means. Why would they be singing it if they did? Only goblinfodder know true reasoning of that song he thought to himself as he ate the meat in front of him I'd rather be with Kikyik than hear this stupid song. Stupid stomach, why do you have to be hungry? He thought

 

[SolosAddie]

A young man rides up, with an older man beside him. A young herding type dog runs ahead and back to them.

They ride up to the inn, dismounting. The younger man says, "I'll go grab a table and get some food grandpa."

Hearing this the older man nods, and walks over to the farmers, anyone listening hears him inquiring about the condition their livestock is in.

Anyone paying further attention might notice neither horse was tied although they are showing no inclination to wander.

 

[randomling]

A young girl, her dark hair cut as short as a boy's, strides into the inn, an empty bottle in her hand. She leans against the bar heavily and lays the bottle down. She's licking something off her fingers idly while she waits for the barkeep, but she notices the cloaked man after a moment. She puts her head on one side, watching him.

"Hello!" she says with false brightness. "I'm Catrin."

 

[djheins33]

Araug sits in the corner of the bar, casually observing the patrons go about their business. He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to keep his mind centered with all of the commotion going on throughout the room.

 

[Nightbreeze]

A tall man comes down from the second floor and sits near Araug. He hears what the young girl said to the cloaked man and eyes them for a bit. Then he adresses Araug.

"Everything ok? It seems that this place will finally see some motion today."

 

[Vertexx69]

An expansive bear of a man steps into the doorway of the tavern. His brown robed midsection (that clears the doorframe by a mear inch to each side) is belted by at least 6 feet of rope on each of its 3 orbits around him, whos knotted ends hang almost to the floor. With hood down, his countenance is something truly unique to gaze upon. Platinum blonde locks and close-cropped beard starkly contrast his inky black skin and brilliant blue eyes. The piety bowl (clean shaven circle at the crown of his head) betray this friars vocation and the tranqiully jovial expression on his face immediately sets all who care to look at him at ease.

The gleeful laughter of children comes twinkling into the common area from behind him, making his smile even fuller. As the friar clears the doorway, several small faces can be seen gazing with delight after the cleric (their mouthes smeared with berry juice and sugar bits from the treats that he had passed out on entering the town). Soon parents arrive to shoo them away from the very adult establishment's door.

Eyeing the strongest bench in the room, he seats himself carefully. The bench complains loudly and yet he pays it no mind waving over the waitress. Seated near the cloaked figure he takes everything in while he waits.

"Greetings child! An ale of your most hardy for Friar Keeley has traveled long and finds himself in need of it's cool refreshment!"

 

[Unkabear]

Dalen sat in the loft and listened. After a few drinks most of the men here could hardly pronounce the move of their stones let alone play the game. So he sat there with a smile upon his face and listened. It had been a moon or two since he had sat here and just enjoyed the company of others. Most of the people here were well into their fourth or fifth drink while Dalen was still nursing his first ale. It was the only thing palatable until you had four or five, then ones taste buds were less discerning and anything that got your drunker would go down as easily.


Dalen waved to the waitress bringing the meat & cheese and without waiting for the others cuts himself a slice of each. The cracker just didn’t tempt him at this time so he left them alone. Recently the talk had turned to the troubles and invaders. This was the third time since Dalen had climbed to the loft that it had, and each time the topic was discussed as it was the first time in a month. But that was alright. Aside from the harvest & foaling it was the hottest topic around. “I have no doubt that this will pass as all other troubles in our times. We have fared goblins we can survive ruffians!” Dalen added again to the conversation to stir up their patriotism once again expecting the next drink to drive it from their minds yet again. But that was alright too.

 

[Paper_Bard]

Kikyik

The door to the tavern opens slowly, and a small form scuttles in. To everyone’s surprise, the aloof ambassador from the Kobold Peoples, Kikyik, enters, his gleaming, sapphire scales and exotic countenance a sight to behold, despite his rather small stature. He sniffs his claws disdainfully, as if entering the establishment causes him discomfort, and sits down next to his lesser brethren. He motions to the bartender, and speaks in perfect common.

“Please bring me a stool or something forthwith, so that I might order a drink at the same level as you humans enjoy.”

While waiting impatiently for his elevated seating, he refuses to make eye contact with anyone in the bar except the other kobold.

He makes a charming, though toothy, grin at his clan-mate, then speaks in Draconic. “So, my unfortunate friend, how does living claw to toe with these warmbloods treat you? I myself have avoided this raucous establishment out of personal disdain, though it seems this is the only place the humans deem fit to placate their need to socialize, and I must make a good impression. Therefore I am forced to enter this den of thieves, as it were. I surely hope they serve something better than this pig swill I see these warmbloods drinking.”

 

[Ivellious]

Cyrack looks at Kikyik for a moment, surpised that he is in the tavern, though it doesn't stop Cyrack from tearing a piece of meat off the mutton, chewing it, and sallowing. He replies in Draconic, "It's going fine. Even though the warmbloods think they sing songs of prasie when it's more a goblin war song. These warmbloods and their customs confuse me. It's like they don't care about how drunk and fat they get, and they always sing stupid songs. Granted there are a few exceptions." He then points to the half orc, and human sitting with him, says still in draconic, "The half-orc has only been showing up recently, and yet that human over there has been trying to talk to him. I've been in here for as many nights as we've been here, and you Kikyik are the first to even talk to me. With my first thought warmbloods are strange."