[Tavern Thread] The Dunn Wright Inn

[perrinmiller]

A man in somewhat fancier clothes than the average adventure enters the tavern. He is wearing a finely cut black coat with grey trim the hangs to mid thigh and has longer tails on the back. He has graying hair visible from underneath a matching top hat of shiny gray. The man also sports a large mustache with the points waxed to curl upwards.

He is armed, a whip and rapier on his belt that can just be seen though the opening of his coat.

He strides to the bar and waits for Grog to finish dealing with other patrons.

GM: This is my recruiting NPC, but I will not have him engage characters until more 1st levels are present and I get my new IC thread started.

[Sblock=OOC]Actually the real answer the who is in the DWI prior to Eanos recently entering, is only Tyrien. I have been waiting for quite awhile for another character to post arrival after the last recruitment saw Ru and Charity depart. Sylla and Boots are present as well if Systole says they still are, but he stopped posting before the last recruitment and did not resume while RL is catching up with him.

Characters not in adventures are listed as being attached to the DWI on the wiki until they get retired from inactivity. Until the player actually posts there character in the DWI thread, they are not considered present. Some characters are considered at their residence or Arcane Row and still have the same Wiki Tag.

This is why only characters that are posted as arriving in the tavern itself are considered present.[/Sblock]

 

[Rift-LPF]

== Jericho, Human Male ==

A commotion outside the inn on the bay side is short lived before a curled up figure covered in wet seaweed tumbles in through the Waterside doors and onto the floor with a crash; as beyond the doorway a few over-sized tentacles lower past the edge of the docks and into the splash and spray beneath. From the floor the motionless person raises a single arm from the elbow and comments loudly as he gently tosses a purse up and down "Feels a little short..." Seemingly in reply, a purple appendage resurfaces outside long enough to hurl a handful of coins on top of the nonchalant man, who sighs dejectedly as he peels the kelp to either side of his face to look around the room.

Though reactions are mixed, most of the patrons quickly return to their conversations and drink. The traffic in and out soon has the doors unstuck and swinging freely, and the man manages to remove the armload of plant life from his crisp navy cloak and recently shined boots which are conspicuously dry. He hefts the damp foliage into a waste bin down the wall from the bar. His clothing is simple but in better condition than what you'd expect of someone that makes a habit of arm-wrestling giant mollusks, a courduroy vest and wool pants in cream and tan, and a bright yellow shirt look fairly new compared to the bags and scabbards hanging from his shoulders and belt. He wore no armor, but the brightly gleaming cestus on his right forearm and the ease with which he shrugged off the effects of his less than graceful entry distinguished him from a typical commoner. Still, there was a bit of stiffness evident in his toned shoulders as he ran a hand through his neatly kept brown hair for traces of his recent swim.

Satisfied for the moment, the young man approaches the bar with a half-hearted smile and locks his dark blue eyes on Grog. "Have anything that can get the taste of brine out of my mouth and make me forget how it got there?" he asks the half-orc before fidgeting with a surprised expression on his face. With a jerk, he wrests a wriggling sea bass from one of the larger pockets of his cloak and slaps it down onto the bar. "-and maybe a fire to toss that over for a few minutes?" he adds, removing his cloak and thoroughly looking through his other pockets.

 

[Grayn]

GM: I need 4-6 players in the lvl 3 zone to report to the DWI. Once we get enough PCs posting in the Inn, I will send in the recruiting NPC.

 

[jkason]

Eanos looks at the bright-eyed young woman who's begun religious inquiry with him, pauses as if considering, then smiles slightly. as he lifts the silvery key that dangles from a chain on his neck.

"My Lady is Issolatha, mistress of secrets," he says in and easy voice. "And I'm Eanos. A pleasure."

He seems about to say more when he finds himself distracted by Grog. He cocks his head to the side at mention of wee folk, and even brightens up as he seems to recognize the significance of the cask at Tyrien's table.

"Coming up in the world, Grog," he says with a grin, choosing to acknowledge the last thing he's said first. He nods his head toward Tyrien's table and says to Emily, "Not had halfling mead since back at ... well. Been a while. Maybe we can sweet-talk our half-elf friend, yes?"

 

[GlassEye]

Qalabash Baram

The door to the Dunn Wright Inn, in its perpetual cycle of open and close, again swings wide to allow entrance of another seeking fame and fortune, or at the least, respite from the hot Venzan day. The stranger is foreign, though who isn't in this city-on-the-sea, and one might suspect he is from rival Rhat'matanis though his clothing is a hodge-podge of styles from both that country and the Grasslands of the Pell. The man wears a flowing white shirt over which is a long, studded leather jerkin like those favored by the Pell's horsemen but decorated with a peacock feather vest. The ensemble is topped by a voluminous purple turban.

The man, past his prime though not yet into old age, takes a few steps into the common room. His dark red-wood staff taps out his cadence until he stops and throws his arms wide.

"Greetings friends and fellows of the Dust-trodden Way!"

His smile beams with square, yellowed, horse-like teeth and he approaches the bar near a somewhat damp younger man. He taps the bar with a thick, horny nail to get the brutish orc-blood bartender's attention.

"I don't suppose you have fermented mare's milk? No? Well, then, I shall take whatever you in your judgement deems 'quality'. And a plate of the house special." He sniffs the air suspiciously. "Correction, my friend, a plate of something off the hoof or wing; the fish smells a bit off."


. . . Qalabash Baram . . .

 

[Aura]

[sblock=perrinmiller]
Ah, sorry about that. My use of 'theoretical' was meant to imply it's not an accurate list, but more of a list of characters who might be in the DWI/available/listening/whatever. I am sorry I wasn't very clear and caused potential confusion.
[/sblock]

 

[OperationMaximumBear]

"Mistress of Secrets, huh?" Emily doesn't say it with any particular reverence, but somehow the capital letters are clearly audible. But before she can follow up, she too is distracted by Grog and his cask.

"Halfling mead's too sweet for me, but I'd love to meet your friend."

 

[omnitricks]

Paskell after having done that tiring and disgusting job as well as the much needed bath and rest made his way to the inn to find out his next adventure, job or whatever it was someone would call it.

[sblock=OOC]Level 3 waving his hand here for said recruitment![/sblock]

 

[Grayn]

Paskell after having done that tiring and disgusting job as well as the much needed bath and rest made his way to the inn to find out his next adventure, job or whatever it was someone would call it.

[sblock=OOC]Level 3 waving his hand here for said recruitment![/sblock]

GM: Ok, that's Paskell and Lightfeather, we're going to need a couple more lvl 3-ish players....and a few magic users wouldn't hurt.

 

[perrinmiller]

Grog, Half-Orc Retired Fighter (NPC)

Grog points a meaty finger at the fish and snarls, "Git dat sheet owta har. Dis taint naw bring yur own food an' we cook it tav'rn." He flicks the slimy thing off of his bar and wipes the residue away. Then he uses the same cloth to finish drying the mug he had and pours an ale for the fishmonger (Jericho). Placing it on the bar he holds up all five fingers and says, "Der ya go. Ork piss. Hand ova foa coppa."

Turning back to Eanos, he tosses the soiled cloth over his shoulder towards the kitchen and grabs a new one from under the bar's counter and another mug. He answers the bowman, "Heh, who da fook ken 'bout dat lass. Har tongue be sharp an' she be a big chatterbox ta grate yur nerves aftawhile, but she dun shared har drink wit sum othaz befur." He shrugs.

Grog calls over his shoulder and gestures to foreigner with feathers, "Oy, Trixie! Bring da peacock har an orda o' da Adventura Spasheel."

A female voice comes from the kitchen, "Alrighty, some rat stew coming right out!"