[Tavern Thread] The Dunn Wright Inn

[Baveboi]

"Bah! If I get a penny for evry time me wife gave me da beatings I'd be me own boss. Haha!" Bronzebeard's humor improved a ten thousand folds at the sight of beer and the sight of the lovely tiefling lass wasn't half bad.

For a long time he only opened his mouth to swallow the alcohol, what everyone had to agree was a bleesing, but them his eyes got glassy and dreamy. "Marla sure seems a healthy lass, like a true dwarven girl."
His eyesight blurred with what seemed like tears. "Oh, blast. Now I be getting all fuzzy-like..."

At that he saw the warrior come in. A lad with nothing more than a stub for a beard, unlike his well-combed beardful, and more weapons than an arsenal. "Tryin' to overcompesate for somifin' lad? Har har"

 

[GlassEye]

Fury laughs along with the dwarf. "Hey there, stranger, I'm hoping you gave as good as you got. Or at the least tossed the piker in the canal. Please tell me you didn't just have a run in with that hawker of roast rat-skewers selling his grub down the street."

 

[perrinmiller]

Borric Hawkins, Male Human Fighter

Borric is still holding his eye, and he has a sour expression. These adventurous looking types appear to be in too good of humor, "This bloody town. No, it had nothing to do with no rat-hawker and some tosser working for the constable let it happen."

He eyes a chair to sit down, but unless he starts piling weapons on the table, that isn't something he can manage at the moment. "I wish I could toss the blighter in the canal, but I don't want to end up in the stockade. It is all that stupid cu... ah, pardon my Dwarven, stupid wench's fault. That and her gods rotten, goblin fornicating, baby stealing scam the harpy's got running down at Cornelia's Cherry Inn."

____________________________

Borric Hawkins

 

[Baveboi]

"Bah!" Rune seems amused while carefully eyeing the stranger's beard. "Ya cannae speak dwarven with dat stub crowning yar face, even inna thousand years, lad. Har har!"

Something cought his interst however and suddenly a new sparkle was born into his eyes. "You havin' som' trouble, boy? Canya bother to hire a pair swingin' arms? I guarantee dey are not for dancin'. Har har!"

 

[Ravenath]

The word "hire" captured Ravenath's attention. He was drinking his cup of wine leaning on the bar. Then, he looked at the dwarf. He was looking for a job for a couple of days and his money was diminishing at dangerous levels.
Ravenath has golden wavy hair. Golden penetrating eyes.
A good tall body. He has light brown trousers and black boots, typical
between the people of his city. He also has a white shirt and the
familiar chain shirt, with the family crest, a golden symbol over a
red shield. The golden symbol has the vague form of a griffin wing.
His family rapier has that crest too. It's attached to the left side
of the belt.
He is aware of his talent throwing knifes, and he has multiple daggers
in his suit for this purpous: one in the left and one in the right of
his belt, two atached to his right forearm and one in left boot. He
has a green cloak with the family crest too. In his head, he has a
green hat with a big yellow feather.

 

[perrinmiller]

Borric is still holding his eye with his sour expression and he starts cursing in Dwarven for about a full minute, just to prove that he understands the language fully. He calms down a mite and returns to the Common tongue, "Don't see what beards have to do with nothin'. I just haven't shaved this week, that's all. Some rat-face street urchin done swiped my razor."

He rubs his right eye and pulls his hand away, trying to open the lid and peer through the slit. The eye is still too watery and red yet, Borric covers it back up with his hand and calls out, "Oy! Bar wench, can you bring a clean towel too!"

Then muttering to himself, "By the harpy's fish smelling sna... ahem... The service here appears to be a little slow." He cleans up his language a little as he realizes that the others are looking at him, possible offended.

Addressing the dwarf again, "As for hiring, do I look like I got spare coin, o' aged one I need to find myself a job so I can afford the beer and booty my loins crave. But if you nothing better to do, I would be happy to go about plotting some revenge."

<<OOC: Yes, my character is going to be a jerk at times. Please don't think I am a jerk.>>
____________________________

Borric Hawkins

 

[Aldern Foxglove]

Marla scowls at Borric from behind the bar, "The service comes as soon as you grow some manners, so no time soon I'm guessing." She says moving off to serve another customer. Why would he swear by a harpie's fish smelling snacks? The tiefling girl wonders.

 

[perrinmiller]

Borric mutters in Giant tongue about the fiendish virtues of Tieflings, their illegitimate heritage, and the sexual relations of their creators.

Deciding that the stubborn girl needs to be sweet talked to do her low-paying job, "Alright honey, PLEASE bring me the ale and clean towel. Here's my coin." He taps the silver piece on the bar with his forefinger, to remind her of the payment he has ready.

He mutters to himself, This rotten town and the people. Callisto, help me to be patient before I end up in prison.

____________________________

Borric Hawkins

 

[Aldern Foxglove]

"I'm going to choose to believe that gutteral gobble de gook was complementary." Marla says, in the tone of one who doesn't, setting a flagon down before Borric with pursed lips. Stepping away and absent mindedly teasing her hair up to cover her horns with one hand as she plucks a cloth from the counter and tosses it towards Borric.

 

[rb780nm]

"Sna...," Iosef thinks back over the words he knows that might fit there. Suddenly he recalls a conversation between two drunks, done sleeping off thier latest bender on the monastery stairs. His pale skin flushes a bright pink in embarrassment.

"I, I do not think tha..." he stammers.