[Tavern Thread] The Dunn Wright Inn

[WindCrystal]

Crisis averted, he almost literally swallowed his pride there. Amien lowers the mug now, taking a breath, "I was drinking it very, very slowly, I assure you... I just.. wanted to drink it very slowly all at once."

After swiping his arm across his lips, he looks over his shoulder in his tendency to be wary of stout figures of authority, and this man to Amien is the stoutest of them all, almost to a comical level. Turning back he drums his fingers on the counter a bit anxiously, "Something's up. I just know it. I hope it isn't something I did."

 

[airwalkrr]

"Ah, my bread and mead!" Corbin exclaims as Marla brings it over to his table. He hands her a few coins for the meal and a couple of coppers as a tip. "And I'll happily toss a few extra coppers your way if you keep my mug full," he adds with a smile.

Corbin mulls over his mead slowly while nibbling at a crust of bread. He eyes the patrons of the Dunn Wright Inn. He had heard stories of this place from the halfling clan he had grown up with. Though he had never before visited himself, he had heard Papa Boros tell him of the place, how it was always so full of heroes and adventurers. He had always pictured knights in shining armor, wizards with bright robes conjuring flame, and rogue acrobats vaulting across tables. It was, in fact, almost indistinguishable from a great many taverns he had visited before in his youthful travels, except that a great deal more of the patrons here brought weapons and armor with them. But for the most part they seemed as scruffy and boisterous as any other tavern patrons he had seen before. I suppose one doesn't have to look as fantastic as the storybooks to be a great hero, either that or I'm in the wrong place.

Corbin keeps his ears perked up for any missions that might suit his talents and desires. He is, after all, a youthful fledgling cleric. No doubt many of these grizzled warriors were veterans who had been at the adventuring business for years. He couldn't pick up with just any of them for fear of getting in over his head.

 

[Maidhc O Casain]

[section]

The comely bar-wench comes back 'round to the Dwarf's table with a plate piled to overflowing with roasted fowl and a mug of ale. He perks up at the smell of the food and thanks her with a nod, flipping a glinting coin her way. Even as she's walking off the man is digging in to his food. He eats quickly, the motions businesslike and quite tidy; he wastes nothing of the food. As the food disappears and the plate becomes visible he slows a little and begins to look around curiously at the other patrons of the Inn. He doesn't speak yet, but it's plain that the food has revived him somewhat.​

[/section]
_______________
[sblock=Mini Stats]
Kryeprift Himbal

Initiative: +02
AC: 16 (16 Touch, 14 Flat-Footed)
HP: 09/09
Senses: DarkVision (60’)
CMB: +00 CMD: 16
Fort: +03 Reflex: +04 Will: +06
[/sblock]

 

[Scott DeWar]

Vincenzo looks around and sees Marla deliver a plate of fowl. "Eh Grok, three roasted fowl like his if you will? One for the the king, one for Maui and one for me?" He hands over several silver coins for the food. "Is that ok with you jungle warrior?"

 

[perrinmiller]

Borric Hawkins, Male Human Fighter

Borric enters the adventurer's hangout, his face unshaven and eyes blood shot. He has been back in Venza a few days now and finished celebrating the return by hitting every brothel has visited on previous visits to give them his business. He is sore and feeling raw. The wine he has drank during the past few days has left him with a mighty hangover.

In short, he is his typical gruff and brash self.

It has been months since he was last here and instead of the hideous black platemail, he is wearing very shiny golden colored armor. He actually looks like a respectable hero these days, even if he doesn't act like it.

"Oy, Grog!"

"I see ya still have that fookin' barghest head on a pike out of front. Nice. Makes a good impression that some real tough bastards frequent this place."

"Not that I see many in here right now." He mutters to himself.

Continuing to call across the taproom to the half-orc bartender, "I have a helluva headache. Ask Trixie to bring over a small keg of that dwarven ale. I'm expecting a few friends... But hell if they don't get their sheet taken care of, I will drink the whole fookin' thing."

The warrior finds an empty table after glancing around. Borric dioes not see Fury, Syl, or Bren. So, he clanks over to appropriate the empty table to sit down and drink while he waits.

[sblock=Mini Stats]Borric Hawkins
Initiative: +4 Perception: +16
AC: 30 (25 w/out shield, 28(23w/shield) flat-footed, 13 Touch)
HP: 103 Current: 103
CMB: +15 CMD: 28 (30 vs. Disarm/ 32 vs. Trip) Fort: +12 Reflex: +8 Will: +7 (+10 vs. Fear)
Conditions in Effect: Ioun Torch (in darkness), Combat Reflexes (3 AoO), Step Up, Greater Trip, Power Attack (-3/+6Dmg) or Combat Expertise (-3/+3AC), Lunge

Current Weapon in Hand: Darkwood Shield(LH), MWk Spiked Gauntlet (RH)
Chakram: 1/1 MWK & 6/6 Cold Iron remaining
Light Hammers: 2/2 remaining[/sblock]

 

[Systole]

Sylla looks under her table with an irritated expression. "Stop that," she says. A moment later she growl, "All right. What?"

"Him," comes a whisper from under the table.

"Who?" Her eyes fall on Kaedyn. "That one? He's sitting at a table, minding his own business."

"Yeah, him! Boss, we gotta go!"

Sylla sighs and gets to her feet. "I'll never understand this aversion to paladins that you have." She walks over to the door, then holds it open so a black wolf with crimson eyes can streak outside, then sighs and leaves after him.


[sblock=Mini Stats]

Sylla the Grim
AC: 20 (15 flat-footed, 15 touch)
HP: 46/46
CMB: +7 CMD: 22
Fort: +2 Reflex: +7 Will: +5 (All saves +2 when adjacent to Boots)
Perception: +10, Low Light Vision
Initiative: +5
Current Weapon in Hand: Cestus (+8, 1d4+5, 19-20x2) & Longbow (+10/+10 or +12, 1d8+5, 19-20x3)
Current Conditions in Effect: Arcane Strike
Spells Remaining (1st): 5/5
Spells Remaining (2nd): 4/4
Spells Remaining (3rd): 2/2

Boots
AC: 25 (22 flat-footed, 13 touch)
HP: 62/62
CMB: +11 CMD: 24 (28 vs. trip)
Fort: +7 Reflex: +8 Will: +2 (+6 vs. enchantment)
Perception: +9, Darkvision 60', Scent
Initiative: +3
Current Weapon in Hand: Natural weapons (+9/+9/+9, 1d6+9, 20x2)
Current Conditions in Effect: Power Attack
Used Items:
N/A[/sblock]

 

[jackslate45]

Aradra Longstrider: Male Human Ranger

The scarred man comes back down from his nap, but he doesn't seem to have enjoyed it. Rather, he looks extremely lost in thought, as though he forgot something. He takes a cursory look around the room, noticing that during his rest 3 additional men appeared; 1 man with a square jaw sitting at a table by himself, 1 with a holy symbol Aradra didn't recognize on his hand, and the third with golden armor sitting at another table, now being served with a giant glass of something. If any catches his eye Aradra nods in respect, but seems to be in somewhat of a hurray to start conversation.

With a stifled yawn, Aradra takes a look around for his wolf, and finds him exactly where he left him, still sleeping. With a small whistle the wolf jerks awake, and looks up at the man with his head slightly tilted to one side, as if asking a silent question. Aradra seems to answer the question for the wolf "Nap time's over, time to get to work building that camp. Tonight we'll be sleeping outside."

With that, the man and wolf pair leave quickly, not realizing he would be back here quicker than expected.

 

[airwalkrr]

View attachment 59159
Corbin regarded the ranger with a kindly nod and raised his mug of mead as a token of respect. "Templars of the Wild" Papa Boros had always called them. And Corbin had seen a great many rangers over his many years living with his adopted nomadic halfling clan. He was no stranger to them or their animal companions. They were not so different from himself, Corbin reflected. They esteem silent spirits of nature while I esteem an inscrutable goddess." in a way, Corbin considered them kin. The very sight of one made him feel all the more at home in this place. Like them he was more comfortable outdoors that in the crowded confines of a city such as Venza. Though never given formal training in outdoor survival, he had always had a prodigious talent for it, born of his great wisdom which was beyond his years. He could skin a rabbit or find his way through an overgrown forest almost by instinct. It was what Mum Jalise had called "The Divine Sight." It was one of his few gifts.

At any rate the sight did comfort him. Perhaps if he could take up with one of these rangers or like-minded folk, he wouldn't feel so out of his element.

 

[soulnova]

Galandra enters the tavern, followed closely by her leopard. The cat looks in much better state than before. Quite bigger, most would say. Galandra orders a whole turkey for her feline companion and a mug for her. Dammit, they both have earned it.

"So, Amien... I saw you at the market... what did you get?" she asks actually curious. "I couldn't see because I was too busy fighting someone to wear the saddlebags" she narrows her eyes to the cat in an accusatory way.

Amien could almost swear the cat made the equivalent of a "hmpf". Now that Amien has fought along side Galandra for a while, he can tell she's much more open with the cat around her. She talks to her and treats her as a real partner.

 

[WindCrystal]

Amien has managed to not have a gigantic meal while being surrounded by many that do. He watches the cat grip and tear apart the roasted bird that somebody had slaved over to make enjoyable for a person that doesn't normally eat raw foods. He looks up to Galandra and answers, "I was mostly selling, actually. I only spent my money on healing potions."