Rae ArdGaoth
Explorer
A small hamlet can be seen over this last hill in your long journey. You cannot tell why, but your soul cries out that this is the place, the home of the summoner, the powerful being who called you from across the continent. An old wooden sign has the word “Thamanton” burned in black, telling you the name of this tiny town. Curious as to what great power would choose to live in such poverty, you venture forward on the last leg of your journey, and on the first leg of a new one.
The village is unremarkable, a few houses scattered about, fairly close together, with a little market in the middle of it all. The most prominent building, though hardly magnificent by any standards, is a large tavern. “Old Sal’s” is carved into a sign above the door. Peering in, you can tell that many of the locals spend a fair amount of time in here. The position of the sun indicates that it is late afternoon, and you step in the tavern, eager to learn more of this seemingly innocuous place.
The regulars turn to look at you, surprised that a visitor has come to their little hamlet. You look just as surprised, if not more so, as more and more foreign visitors enter right after you. All told the congregation is quite the conglomerate of races, colors, complexions, and nations.
A handsome, golden-eyed elf with copper colored hair, a stout but mighty dwarf, dressed in black full plate armor, leaning on a dwarven waraxe, a tiny girl, no, a Halfling woman obscured by darkness whose own shadow seems to have a life of its own, a strange looking creature, elven in form but covered in scales and frost, emanating an aura of intense magical power, another scaled elven being, this one red, his massive arms swinging a humongous sword about with ease, a man whose skin seems to glow and glitter in the afternoon sun, and a tall, strong man with flowing blond hair who just dismounted from a mighty magical beast blessed with strength, nobility, and flight, a griffon.
From behind the counter in the tavern, an old woman glances up from wiping the bar at the newcomers. She smiles a toothy grin, her pearly whites literally sparkling up at the odd group.
“Hello, friends, and welcome to Old Sal’s.”
OOC Thread
IC Thread
Old OOC Thread
The village is unremarkable, a few houses scattered about, fairly close together, with a little market in the middle of it all. The most prominent building, though hardly magnificent by any standards, is a large tavern. “Old Sal’s” is carved into a sign above the door. Peering in, you can tell that many of the locals spend a fair amount of time in here. The position of the sun indicates that it is late afternoon, and you step in the tavern, eager to learn more of this seemingly innocuous place.
The regulars turn to look at you, surprised that a visitor has come to their little hamlet. You look just as surprised, if not more so, as more and more foreign visitors enter right after you. All told the congregation is quite the conglomerate of races, colors, complexions, and nations.
A handsome, golden-eyed elf with copper colored hair, a stout but mighty dwarf, dressed in black full plate armor, leaning on a dwarven waraxe, a tiny girl, no, a Halfling woman obscured by darkness whose own shadow seems to have a life of its own, a strange looking creature, elven in form but covered in scales and frost, emanating an aura of intense magical power, another scaled elven being, this one red, his massive arms swinging a humongous sword about with ease, a man whose skin seems to glow and glitter in the afternoon sun, and a tall, strong man with flowing blond hair who just dismounted from a mighty magical beast blessed with strength, nobility, and flight, a griffon.
From behind the counter in the tavern, an old woman glances up from wiping the bar at the newcomers. She smiles a toothy grin, her pearly whites literally sparkling up at the odd group.
“Hello, friends, and welcome to Old Sal’s.”
OOC Thread
IC Thread
Old OOC Thread
Last edited:
