Even Newer(er) Tavern Thread: The Hanged Man

[bluesfella]

Zardi lets the bartender fill his mug once more, then retreats back to his booth in the corner, muttering questions to himself.

"...where did all these crazies come from? I just need a job...I don't understand all these strange...things arguing..."

 

[Voda Vosa]

"I think the three-armed fellow looks promising, but between you and I, this megalomaniac is a little too, shall we say, unstable."

"I'm willing to work with the insect, if it's part of the agreement." Sheng states.

The drow looks offended, "Oh, you misunderstand me. When the wards are off, I intend to be fully involved."

Sheng smiled sightly."Splendid."

"You need not worry about your payment. You'll certainly be rewarded even beyond the amount you are contemplating now."

"In that case, I guess that the only thing necessary is that you tell me the location of this site."
offers Sheng.

 

[Luinnar]

I once ate a Thri-kreen's arm once. Tasted like chicken, had to fight mad were-pigs for it....

Pig! Where is that pig I ordered! Sharpe shouts, waving his fists around and knocking the other old man out of his chair in the process. You ignorant idiots! If I don't get pig heads will roll! Betty will see to that! he shouts, taking out his sword and flailing it around madly.

 

[Voda Vosa]

Sheng casually moves his stool away from the flailing sword.

 

[renau1g]

The thri-kreen's weapons are out in a flash as Tikchik rises to his feet. With expert skill the thri-kreen parries the warrior's blade and makes sure no innocents are caught in the flailing.

"Be careful, someone could lose an arm" Tikchik deadpans, holding up his stump as he speaks. Then he chuckles and returns to the drow as if nothing happened. "So what are you drinking there? Looks good." he states.

[sblock=ooc]
A bit of fluff there, but I would assume a level 9 ranger could parry a bit with Sharpe [/sblock]

 

[Eternal54]

Eraden continued to listen to the many patrons converse amongst one another as he removed his heavy shield and began to polish the symbol at it's center with a rag. Next to him the dwarf and half-orc challenged their strength with pitchers of ale and a short distance from them the drow still drew a crowd. All and all, he thought, things are as they should be.

"One more!" He shouts cheerfully to the barkeep. "I can't allow the "King a de Cup" to get too far ahead." Eraden says as he he partially replicates the half-orc's accent. He nods his head to the pair and continues to speak to no one in particular. "I wonder how much longer untill a suitable employer arrives..."

 

[H.M.Gimlord]

"So what are you drinking there? Looks good." he states.

The drow stares down into his goblet, tilting it back and forth before his critical gaze that expresses a morbid curiosity, "It's a bitter port that parades poorly as a pinot noir. It's taken me this many servings just to determine whether or not it is easier to avoid vomiting by picturing it as one or the other."

He looks up after his reverie, "This fellow," he indicates Sheng, "and I were talking about some business, and you struck me as someone who might partner well with him in solving a problem of mine," he places his goblet on the bar and folds his arms in an inquisitive pose, "Tell me of your talents."

 

[pathfinderq1]

The cloaked figure had not ventured another word since her arrival- and if she had heard the "drow's" comment to her, she gave no overt response. She also seemed to have not noticed much of the chaos around her. Instead she turned so that she was facing the portal set into the wall. Then she waved her hand through the air, first in a series of broad swipes as if clearing frost from a cold window, then in an increasingly complex pattern that might be recognizable to anyone with arcane training. Around her waving hand, the air took on a silvery glow, and a faint tinge of arcane energy began to build around her. A faint muttering in elvish was barely audible...

[sblock= OOC]
>Arcana check to sense/identify ambient magic in the area, 1d20+14= 19; roll Roll Lookup

>This activity would be obvious to anyone in the room who is trained in Arcana, and wouldn't be (normally) considered threatening. [/sblock]

 

[BenBrown]

The tavern door opens and a morose-looking, slightly paunchy man in a colorful tabard enters. He moves so that he is standing next to the door, looking towards the tables where the patrons sit enjoying their drinks. He looks around dubiously at the assembled throng, blinks a few times, pauses for a second, takes a deep breath, and clears his throat. He looks towards the door as if he expects something to happen with it, then after a moment turns back to the tavern. After straightening his tabard, he clears his throat again, and announces "Lord Adelin Mallaby!"

There is a short pause and then nothing happens.

The man clenches his jaw and closes his eyes tightly. Reaching out his right hand, he gives the door a little push, so as to hold it slightly ajar. Turning his head to be sure that his voice is heard in the street outside, and says again, somewhat more forcefully, "Lord Adelin Mallaby!"

A flurry of giggles is heard from outside the tavern, then the door opens all the way again, and an annoyingly handsome young man enters the tavern. He is dressed in well-tailored trousers stuffed into expensive looking boots, and a loose white shirt. His black hair is pulled back in a long ponytail, and he wears an insouciant look on his slim, boyish face.

He smiles, then looks back through the door and blows a kiss, setting off another round of giggling from outside.

As the door closes and the giggling fades away, the young man turns back toward the tavern. He walks forward a few paces, confidently smiling, his arms outstretched in greeting.

"Patrons of the Hanged Man," he says, "My name is Adelin Mallaby, and I come to beg your aid. I have a journey to make through rough country, that I must finish before the first full moon of summer. It may be a dangerous voyage, but I--though I am city born and bred, and have little experience in these things--I must go. It is not in search of treasure that I make this journey. Gold I have enough of. Nor is it in search of honors, for my house's reputation is not one of mighty warlords nor of high and puissant rulers, nor of arcane masters; yet it is a good one. No, it is not for fame or fortune that I go. I make this journey in the cause. . . of love.

"Good people--brave people-who among you will join me on this voyage? Who among you is willing to suffer the rigors of overland travel? Who among you is willing to face the mysterious beasts of the forests of Allaria? Who among you is willing to venture into the unknown in order to unite two hearts--in order to bring a poor lover. . ." he motions to himself "to the side of his betrothed?"

Before sitting down, he slowly surveys the tavern, with a wistful expression on his face.

"This is my humble petition to any of you--to all of you. Please, aid me in this. . . for love."

[sblock=ooc]Now recruiting for a new adventure called Get Me to the Church on Time. Characters of 1st-2nd level preferred.[/sblock]

 

[renau1g]

The drow stares down into his goblet, tilting it back and forth before his critical gaze that expresses a morbid curiosity, "It's a bitter port that parades poorly as a pinot noir. It's taken me this many servings just to determine whether or not it is easier to avoid vomiting by picturing it as one or the other."

He looks up after his reverie, "This fellow," he indicates Sheng, "and I were talking about some business, and you struck me as someone who might partner well with him in solving a problem of mine," he places his goblet on the bar and folds his arms in an inquisitive pose, "Tell me of your talents."

"Oh me? I'm good at lots of things. I can find lost stuff, hunt things that need hunting, hurt those that need hurting, get into things that need getting into, sneak into places that you have to be quiet, ya, only thing I can't do is do any fancy magicks. " the thri-kreen declares proudly, chest puffing up slightly as he talks about his talents.