[Tavern Thread] The Dunn Wright Inn

[perrinmiller]

Tyrien, Half-elven Archeress

~ At Tyrien's Table ~

Tyrien smiles and pours some apple mead into two of the spare mugs after shaking Eanos's hand and begins chattering away.

"Oh, well met. I am Tyrien e'Adrianne, archeress of the arcane arts, hunter of dragonne's, slayer of dopplegangers and dark stalkers and all around fun girl. I see that you are not a novice, Master Eanos. How good are you with that bow of yours? That mustached man over there is looking for some fodder or suckers, cannot tell which. You don't strike me as the type. At least not fodder. I cannot answer if you are sucker, we just met. Hee, hee. No offense, meant. But you did come to sit at my table."

She finally takes a breath and continues onwards, "Nice to meet you Emily. Just who are you and is that pack heavy? Oh, maybe you do want to go check out what that man in the top hat is selling. He is looking for someone just like you, no doubt. He could not afford my fees. I am looking for bigger game to hunt. Maybe a dragon. I heard tell they are like cats and not much bigger than small dogs. But legends have them very dangerous, if they can be believed. I did fight a drake once, nothing special, mind you."

"Sicne you are here in the tavern, what brings you about? Are you loking for work or just spinning tales and bragging about past exploits. Speaking of braggarts, be on the lookout for the two like halflings that like dice games and picking pockets."

 

[perrinmiller]

Grog, Half-Orc Retired Fighter (NPC)

~ At the bar ~

Grog looks over at the man (Samad) asking for tea and coffee and scoffs, "Ya donna want sum har o' da dog? Bah. Trixie, dat wun's fur ya."

He looks back at the southerner and shrugs, "Naw, she jus be fookin' wit ya. Naw enuff real rats in Venza ta be wastin' dem in stew. We dun used ta have a ratkin cook dat made it. Sa, it be rat stew, ya ken. It be hearty an' fillin' ya right up."

He swipes up the silver that Jericho laid out and grins wickedly, "Naw dis har young bucka I like. He ken his fookin' stuff."

"Ya gots yar wish, mate."

He puts the mug down and start laying glass cups on the counter-top and then pulls a large jug with a rubber stopper out from under the bar. Whatever it used to be labelled, it has been crudely redone to say "XXX Gud Stuf XXX".

Grog happily starts pouring and chuckling, the sound is certainly not pleasant to the ears.

Trixie comes out of the kitchen with some food on a laden tray. There are bowls of meat hot stew with a very seasoned aroma and some loaves of morning baked bread.

"Here is the stew, who wants it? Did someone want something to drink that Grog doesn't serve?"

Grog points at Samad and she looks at him expectantly.

Grog sticks a glass of the "gud Stuff" in front of Qalabash, "A'right mista hoighty toighty majesty or wateva da fook ya claims are. Drink dis sheet iffen ya canna handle da ork piss."

"We be callin' dis kob'ld bludd whiskey. I bots it offa sum nut dat kilt sum kob'lds fur it."

He puts one in front of Jericho as well, and a third in the direction of Samad. He takes the fourth himself.

GM: This brew invokes a one time Fort DC12 check to even keep down the 1st swallow instead of puking. Every class finished provokes a Fort DC11+number of glasses consumed to prevent drunken unconsciousness, but also provokes a Will DC11+number of glasses consumed to resist drinking another if still conscious. Just the stuff to have before going adventuring.

 

[perrinmiller]

Barton Ringling listened to the conversations going on around him for a few moments. He nods to himself and clears his throat before the serious drinking really can begin. Immediately everyone in the tavern can tell he is used to projecting his voice to be heard, sounds almost like a town crier.

"Hear ye, hear ye!"

"I am looking for some adventurous people to assist me. Sorry I cannot pay much, so only the least experienced or broke need apply."

He turns to three men discussing cheap brew and potentially being pushed into something much worse, rightly picking them out for the inexperienced individuals they are.

"Would my venture interest any of you?"


[Sblock=Recruitment]Here is the game for 1st levels. The Ringling Affair

Before being accepted to the game, please read the rules in the opening post and make sure you will follow them. I do not want to have to repeatedly tell people to follow them after we start.

Personally, I prefer that you post IC using either my format or GE's, it looks nicer.

We will continue posting here until things get moves to a private table and change to the game thread.[/Sblock]

 

[GlassEye]

Qalabash Baram, human staff magus

Qalabash grins and nods encouragingly at Jericho's tale of the exotic dancer despite the young man's distractingly flappy hands. He doesn't seem to catch on that he is being sized up for valuables though truth be told he doesn't seem to have much and his coin purse looks to be secured underneath his leather jerkin; there might be something of value in his pack though the thing looks sadly deflated.

"Ah, the old fire dancer trick! Her beauteous contortions, the promise of perversions, the danger of fire..."

He stops to admire the beautiful woman who enters the bar, distracted from his conversation.

"Have you noticed the unusually high number of gorgeous women in this bar? I do not wish any here to believe that I object, quite the contrary, however I do find it, uhmm, unusual. What do you suppose the odds are of the next woman to enter this bar being divinely beautiful to be?"

He blinks. Rapidly, three times in a row. Something doesn't seem quite right about his last question but then he shrugs it off enjoying himself to much to worry overly much about the perplexities of northern grammar. In the process of contemplating beauty, probability, and grammar he glances down and catches sight of the glass of liquor that Grog has placed before him. As he goes to pick it up he studies the half-orc's face and decides there is entirely too much humor and challenge. He slowly uncoils his fingers from around the glass. Or maybe he's just imagining things; he's never been much good at reading people.

"A shortage of rats, you say? Preposterous!" Qalabash studies the drink with no small amount of doubt. "I am not certain of the meaning of your quaint northern colloquialism but if it applies I shall embrace it. Do you, perhaps, have something more suited for the, ah, hoity toity?"

The southerner is saved from a night drinking to unconsciousness by the announcement of employ available. Qalabash perks up and gives the man with the magnificent mustachios a bow.

"Sir, I am adventurous, I am broke, and while my life experience is great it is, perhaps, not the sort one would look for when doing hiring of this nature." He looks nervous for a moment as if realizing that he is talking himself out of a job but can't help himself. With a burst he makes an attempt to talk himself up. "But I work cheap!"


. . . Qalabash Baram . . .

[sblock=OOC]Perrinmiller runs a great game and I want in. But, I have another character in play so if there are too many applicants or the group is too heavy in the arcane department I would sit it out and continue to chat in the DWI. I leave it to your discretion, PM.[/sblock]

 

[OperationMaximumBear]

"'Suckers or fodder', huh?" That's not an inspiring way to describe one's first job, but the recruiter doesn't look like a bad guy. "I guess everyone has to start somewhere..." And as quickly as that, Emily's getting up from the table again. "It was nice to meet you both. And good luck finding a dragon, ma'am!" She darts over to the recruiter.

"Hi, my name's Emily, and I'm interested in your venture. I'm a sorceress, sort of, so I could probably be a big help." Then Tyrien's "suckers or fodder" remark catches up to her, and she adds, "Or at least, I want to hear more about it. What do you need done?"

OOC: perrinmiller, what do you mean by 'format'? Put more directly: what, if anything, should I be doing differently with IC posts? Aside from things like stat blocks, I mean, which you've mentioned in the other thread.

 

[Grayn]

GM: I have Pascall, Samad, Pirvinia (once approved) and Lightfeather (if [MENTION=6704731]Gorgon Heap[/MENTION] is still here, please post at the inn for confirmation), would be great to get 1-2 more. For all that are already at the inn, just hang in there and continue your awesome rp-ing as usual, we will get going once we get enough confirmed/approved. The start of adventure is a bit unique.

 

[Rift-LPF]

Jericho's eyes brighten at Grog's laughter, but a frown obviously crosses his face at the timing of an employment offer. "Much as I hate to pass up a challenge, something tells me that gleam in your eye and me still being sober enough to demand good enough pay for any jobs tonight aren't going to work well together. Might be better saved for celebrating a successful one or mourning some bad luck. You can keep this as payment for a round or two if you'll save some of that whiskey 'till I get back though." Jericho says to Grog as he leaves a gold coin on the bar next to the untouched glass and giving Trixies face an appraising glance. He responds to Qalabash, his gaze not completely leaving the server. "As far as wondering why so many of the women here strike you as beautiful I think it's the service. I don't know many who would go to a tavern where the help looked better than they, and this place sets the bar a bit higher than some others." He grabs a skewer of meat and some of the bread from the wenches tray with a smile and leaves a silver tip before his attention slips back to the ones he's conversing with. "-and to translate 'hoity toity'... you seem familiar with the Pell, do you know the term 'bourgeois'?"

Jericho is content to start work on his meal while the others occupy the well-dressed man, speaking as a lull presents itself. "I usually avoid jobs that promise little pay or require little skill. They can be detrimental to a reputation, but you are at least up front about those facts and honesty is refreshing as of late. If this is a job I'm suited for I might consider signing on anyway, if after it's done well you could do me the favor of making some introductions around town. You strike me as someone used to making announcements in public." Jericho rises and places his cloak on the chair behind him before offering the man a very firm handshake. "My name is Jericho, Jericho Calivaire. While my vocation of choice is seeing items of value safely to their destination, I am not one to shy from hard work and can be quite flexible when it's called for."

 

[Satin Knights]

Mystie Thissiledew ~ healer 1

Hearing the barker through the door and thinking to herself, {{well, grand momma said it was the experience I needed, not the good pay}} a young gnomish girl pushes the heavy door of the inn open. Looking in, the place is full with many tall folk. Wide eyed, she looks around. She listens for the voice of the barker again as she slowly moves through the bar, ducking under tables occasionally to get through without being stumbled on by the rowdier of the patrons.

The burly half-orc at the bar looks to sour. Scouting around, Mystie catches the skirt of the waitress as she goes by. "Ahem, could you tell me, um please, which one of the men was offering a job? I heard him from outside, but didn't see which it was."

Trixie stops at the tug, spinning around ready to slap a grabby man when she sees it is a wee girl. Her spark of anger fades quickly. "That one there little one," as she points, "with fancy silver clothes and tusks of hair." She giggles, "Careful though, don't look like he would pay as much for the job as he did for the clothes he's wearing."

"Th-Thank you."

The little gnomish girl makes her way through the crowd to see the man is already talking to others, offering them the opportunity she needs. But, she knows she can contribute. Everyone that goes out for rough work needs a healer. That is what she is. A healer. One of the most noble professions. The studded leather armor that grand momma loaned her is already beginning to itch and chafe, but it will do its job. Just as she will do hers. The crossbow was simple enough to figure out, even if it looks silly carrying it slung over her back all the time. She is ready. Ready to face the world.

She approaches the men and waits for a lull in the talking and to see if they even notice her. A girl joins them and offers he services. {{I got to get in there too!}} she thinks. Waiting and waiting, she finally blurts it out...

"WILL YOU NEED a healer?" Embarrassed her voice was so loud, she tries not to show it. How can any group turn down a healer, certainly not as one as cute as her. She was about to add more, but stops and just leaves the question hanging in the air as it is.
[section]

Mystie Thissiledew

[sblock=ooc]LPF doesn't have a focused healer, so I am trying one out. Mystie will be terrible at combat, but can keep a party alive. Everybody else, including GE, gets a shot a the game first. Mystie will be the sixth of six players if perrinmiller will have me. While I have the DMCs to bounce her up to the 3rd level game, I am the approving judge on that one, so I already disqualified myself from playing in it.[/sblock]
​

[/section]

 

[Rift-LPF]

Jericho is silent for a moment, raising back in surprise at the loud, low lying voice. "Well, I certainly hope we don't. It would be an odd thing to hope for..." he says with a smile. "Maybe it's best if we learn the details of this job sooner rather than later. There seems to be some diverse interest growing quite quickly..."

He returns to his meal, keeping track of the conversations going on around the potential employer and waiting for the group to move to a setting more conducive to talk of business.

 

[GlassEye]

Qalabash Baram, human staff magus

"One hundred percent!" crows Qalabash looking from the beautiful gnomish girl to Jericho and back again. "We should have bet. What do you suppose..."

Qalabash trails off when he realizes his return to musing on beauty and probability is interrupting hiring procedures. He places one hand over his heart and inclines his head to the older gentleman.

"Forgive me, sir. I was caught up in enthusiasm. It will not happen again. Unless you hire me, in which case I will not be able to help myself."


. . . Qalabash Baram . . .