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Even Newer(er) Tavern Thread: The Hanged Man

From one of the back rooms, emerged a man clad in a green and yellow robe, clearly from the Jade Empire. His hands folded in his tunic's sleeves, his hair in a pony tail, and small green eyes. He moves with calculative and sharp moves, and advances quickly to the centre of the common room, just minutes after the hooded figure made it's appearance through the portal.
"I, am Sheng, from the Zim clan. My services are at the disposal of anyone with the money to afford my superb abilities. I also offer a substantial reward for any information leading to find another of my clan members." he announces, before walking and sitting on the bar.

Sheng Zim, Sorceror/Monk, level 7.
 

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"Well, THAT was not what I was expecting...,"[sblock= OOC]
"Of course," The drow chuckles and sips his wine, not bothering even to look in the newcomer's direction, "The convent is two streets over. Do give my regards to the reverend mother."
"I, am Sheng, from the Zim clan. My services are at the disposal of anyone with the money to afford my superb abilities."
Retaehceht rolls his eyes, "Oh do be honest. If you didn't need said money, you wouldn't be advertising yourself," he gestures toward an open stool at the bar, "Have a drink, my money has not yet run out."
 

Sheng raises an eyebrow "I never said I didn't want more money." he replies, and takes a seat next to the drow. "And I guess you are not in the best monetary conditions around here, given your presence in this pathetic place." he adds.
 

"On the contrary," The dark elf sets his wine glass down and folds his hands, "Money is one commodity of which I have plenty," he chuckles again, "but as with all treasures, it is what one doesn't have that tempts a man most, and what I don't have is the pleasure of seeing my father's murderers pay for what they have done, and a home I truly call my own." He reach into his coat and produces another platinum piece twirling it before the mage's eyes, "For that I would gladly part with more money than you will ever make from anyone else who happens to grace this 'pathetic',"and when he says, 'pathetic', he forms quotation marks with his fingers, "place."

He reaches for his wine glass and draws another sip, "I'm here because I have seen the deeds of adventurers that frequent this tavern, and though they do tend to be rough around the edges," he gestures at Sheng Zim as if to say 'such as yourself', "They don't lack for bravery and power. Two talents that I admire greatly."
 

Sheng raises yet again another eyebrow. "Am I to suppose that you are looking the aid of ones such as myself? Perhaps to avenge your 'dear' father's death?" he says, before narrowing his eyes "Or is it something you want to do with your own hands?" the slightest of smiles starts to appear around the corner of the monk's mouth, to disappear completely, two seconds later.
 

The familiar sound of the tavern’s door opening startles the Hanged Man’s clientele, but they soon return to their (mostly drunken) stupor thinking it’s just another newly minted treasure seeker of weird past. Their suspicions are almost confirmed as two bent and weakling figures enter the tavern so they must be a pair of mages or, perhaps, avengers. No, none of them is carrying a humongous weapon, so…

Wait a moment. New job seekers don’t come in pairs. “I told you they’d be gone by now, Domenicos” says one of them. “Oh, but I’m sure one of these gentlemen… or gentle-half-beast… could help us”

RAAAAAAAARRR! A huge brawl explodes in the middle of the common room, among shouts and cries of “they’re mine, bastard!” and “Look at my employer and I’ll cut you!” and “Please, please, let’s be civilized!” Eventually the two newcomers sit at a table and, surrounded by those that could be interested, have a chance to explain themselves.

They are two humans of middle age and poor physical shape, since their obvious work as clerks doesn’t leave them too many opportunities for exercise. Their names are Thogorius and Domenicos and their tale goes as follows:

“We come from a city state called Theotocopolis. We have to admit it’s not a very powerful or influential kingdom, and many of you won’t have heard of it, but well, you can’t change the place where you’re born. Theotocopolis has been ruled by the same royal family for nearly 300 years, but alas, recently all or it died in a tragic accident at sea.”

“You may think, a ruling family that’s been in power for three centuries can’t fit in a ship, no matter how big it is, but the truth is that court life at Theotocopolis can be quite cutthroat. Sometimes literally. To make things worse, all the official records were destroyed, or should I say lost, when a fire destroyed the royal palace a century and a half ago. There are copies kept by the noble families, but they have no legal value and are incomplete. Without a clear heir to the throne, the situation at Theotocopolis is highly unstable, if civil was hasn’t broken yet.”

“However, there could be some hope, and an opportunity to you fellows. We’re amateur historians, and my colleague Thogorius stumbled into two interesting bits of data. At the time of the fire, the one that destroyed the palace, the court’s mage disappeared. We don’t know his name, only that he was quite old at the time and his obsession with history was notorious. Also we found an old captain’s log telling how an old wizard arrived more or less at the time the court’s mage disappeared at the island of Garnaman which we must confess, took us some time to locate. Is a remote island devoid of anything interesting, or should I say was, because that mage created a large crypt, far from any settlement, and locked himself in.”

“From that day, every ten years, a cloaked figure appears at the same village and leaves a list: historical records, artifacts of ages past, and other things of lore, and pays handsomely for the items of the last list (as I said, the guy in the cloak only appears once every ten years, so you have to wait that if you want to sell your junk)”

“Did I say anything funny?”

“Anyway, I’m finishing. We have plenty of reasons that the history obsessed mage in the crypt is the same history obsessed mage that disappeared from Theotocopolis the day the records were supposedly destroyed. We believe there’s a really good chance that those records, the records that can avoid a civil war, were stolen and are kept in the crypt. We only have to go there and get them”

“Of course, there’s the matter of the mage that locked himself in a mausoleum and looks like he’s extended his lifespan by unnatural means in the obsessive pursuit of obscure knowledge, so we gather he may be a werewolf. Or something. We do expect the whole thing to involve some risk, or we wouldn’t be here, but whoever lives (ahem) there seems to be quite civilized as he participates in fair trade and nobody has reported any attacks in Garnaman from any kind of monster. Anyway, we convinced an important local library to fund an expedition and offer a significant reward for other valuable historical documents you could bring here.”

“Any of you is interested? Or have any question?”

[sblock=ooc]A paladin in need is a new average length adventure for low level* characters. Those that survived the wall of text and are interested, have a look at this thread

EDIT: Actually, since BenBrown intends to start his own low level adventure I may end scaling up mine to, say, the 4-6 range. We'll decide how we manage this in the upcoming days. In the meantime don't be shy and post in the recruiting thread if you're interested.
[/sblock]
 
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"Haha, they talk too much. Look at everyone running. Reminds me of a time, before I was an adventurer mind you, where I worked as a farmer. Fun times that was. I did well, lots of arms you see, do more work. The cow got all spooked about something and started running all stampedey. I was caught in the way once they broke outta their pens. I had been tilling the fields and had this big scythe in my hands. They knocked me down and were trampling me. Wouldn't you know it, when I get up I realize that that the scythe took me arm here clean off. I didn't have no money for no fancy magicks to fix it so I buried it under a tree nearby and one day hope to have enough gold to get it fixed" Tikchik says to the drow and human.
 

Thunder and lightning accompany the entrance of a half-elf dressed in black. He glances around the tavern with his good eye, the other covered with a menacing heart shaped eye patch.

sharpe.jpg


Ruddy streets, too many turns and dead ends... he mutters, taking off his black cloak and throwing it to the nearest patron. You, bar boy! he shouts to the 100 year old female Orc now holding his cloak. Go put that on the cloak rack, be sure it does not touch any of those filthy peasant cloaks.

My name is General Sharpe Wellington of the Royal Wellington Army of Death! I am commandeering this tavern for use in the war! Which war? Any war I want!

Somebody bring me a cream soda!
he shouts again, pounding black gauntleted fist on the bar. The soda is brought to him by Bob the barman post haste.

I realize it is hard for your small minds to comprehend, being occupied under someone as brilliant and resourceful as myself, so we shall start with the ground rules.

ONE! Follow the rules!

TWO! Obey me or face the firing squad!

THREE!... do whatever I say!

FOUR! Reserved for later!


ANYONE DISOBEYING THESE RULES WILL BE SHOT! ANYONE DISOBEYING THAT RULE WILL BE SHOT! ANYONE I DON'T LIKE WILL BE SHOT!

Corporal Dingo will see to that! he shouts, sipping his soda.

Now, what is this about burning cows? he says walking over to the old men and knocking one out of his chair and sitting in it. I enjoy burning cows, and pigs, and royalty. Now that your are citizens of my vast empire, I am obligated to assist in and way I feel like. Who do you need killed again? He says, looking at Tikchik.

[sblock=ooc]
Sharpe Wellington, level 1 Half elf Valorous Bard (unapproved). 3rd character.
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"I wondered what was the story behind that... I thought it was from a valorous battle though, I see it has more... humble origins." replies Sheng.
The face sequence of raising an eyebrow repeats again in the face of the jadite, as the loud character makes it's entrance. "Please do tell me that this buffoon is the one that killed your father."
 

The face sequence of raising an eyebrow repeats again in the face of the jadite, as the loud character makes it's entrance. "Please do tell me that this buffoon is the one that killed your father."
I have killed many fathers before, you'll have to be more specific. Sharpe says to Sheng, throwing his gloves on the table. But if it will make you happy, you may say it was I who did kill him regardless.
 

Into the Woods

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