Moggthegob
First Post
Taran smiles at her, impressed " That is quite the namesake to live up to. I was named for nothing in particular, my parents just liked the name Taran. I wish you the best of luck with that.
Sharn Tavern: The Tower's Shard II
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LogicsFate
First Post
Shadé puts her head in her hand and spins her hand carved quarterstaff in the other. She sighs.
LogicsFate
First Post
Yeah Shadé says in agreement, striking the air a few times, well away from people or drinks. What to do till then?
Moggthegob
First Post
Taran turns to his comrades and says " If you will excuse me I must use the little saviors room He gets up and goes in to the back.
Dirk Nightbreese
First Post
Enter Wulfcyne
Creaking open, the large tavern door is suddenly filled with a figure who looms tall, his large shoulders almost brushing the sides of the entrance, and it's quite apparent this grizzled human warrior takes up a lot of space.
Dull fog gray eyes and a smooshed face, with a lattice work of scars on the cheeks and jaw, sit under a simple conical helm with a thick nose piece. Large body encased in steel banded breastplate, with a faded griffon emblazoned upon it, the man carries a veritable arsenal.
Crossed upon his back and poking above his head, hang a trident with a white ash stock and black iron head as well as a recurved longbow. While at his wide belt a throwing axe with a sharp head molded to look like a roaring lion's head and mane, a stout heavy mace, and an almost insignificant dagger hang about his hips.
A few forlorn pouches are interspersed with the weaponry, while a well worn and bulging backpack hangs with his main weapons, along with a stuffed quiver. Lastly he carries a heavy oaken shield, banded in silver and with a bright central knob, etched with the bear's head of Breland, which is clutched tightly upon his left arm.
Slowly closing the door behind him, the human intones, 'Greetings, I be Wulfcyne, a seeker of worthy causes and combat. I hear this be the place to find such, what offers are there?'
Moving to the bar, the large man glances about the tavern, shooting an appraising look at Valahandra and her blade, but ignoring the two figures at the far tables, while watching the shifter at the bar warily, before moving up to Links and saying in a neutral tone,'Greetings sir. Where d'ya hail from, warrior?'
Creaking open, the large tavern door is suddenly filled with a figure who looms tall, his large shoulders almost brushing the sides of the entrance, and it's quite apparent this grizzled human warrior takes up a lot of space.
Dull fog gray eyes and a smooshed face, with a lattice work of scars on the cheeks and jaw, sit under a simple conical helm with a thick nose piece. Large body encased in steel banded breastplate, with a faded griffon emblazoned upon it, the man carries a veritable arsenal.
Crossed upon his back and poking above his head, hang a trident with a white ash stock and black iron head as well as a recurved longbow. While at his wide belt a throwing axe with a sharp head molded to look like a roaring lion's head and mane, a stout heavy mace, and an almost insignificant dagger hang about his hips.
A few forlorn pouches are interspersed with the weaponry, while a well worn and bulging backpack hangs with his main weapons, along with a stuffed quiver. Lastly he carries a heavy oaken shield, banded in silver and with a bright central knob, etched with the bear's head of Breland, which is clutched tightly upon his left arm.
Slowly closing the door behind him, the human intones, 'Greetings, I be Wulfcyne, a seeker of worthy causes and combat. I hear this be the place to find such, what offers are there?'
Moving to the bar, the large man glances about the tavern, shooting an appraising look at Valahandra and her blade, but ignoring the two figures at the far tables, while watching the shifter at the bar warily, before moving up to Links and saying in a neutral tone,'Greetings sir. Where d'ya hail from, warrior?'
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