Even Newer(er) Tavern Thread: The Hanged Man

[jbear]

Leather picks up his spinning coin and the pitcher of ale and walks across the room to join the bugbear.

"Your kindness is appreciated ... Kane, right?"

He offers a very firm handshake and raises the pitcher in salute. "Thank you."

He takes a long and sits down, licking his wind cracked lips. "This Lord of yours ... you think he might have work? Blade work? Monster hunting?"

 

[renau1g]

"Oh, Mr. Lord Byron has lots of problems, first he has problems with his big mining island he owns. Then after we kills all the lizardmen and Lauto-dragon, then there is pirates. They from Bacarte and they gives bugbears a bad name, they kills people and then people is scared of Kane. Then Mr. Lord Byron lost some silver, and we go find it. That is lots of troubles there. Ummm, then we go on a ship and Kane fall in the water." the bugbear states.

 

[JoeNotCharles]

There is a creaking sound from the far side of the room as Ironheart pushes himself away from the wall. "Wood... chopped?" The tree shambles towards the bar, upper branches brushing the ceiling. "Wood... CHOPPED?" Now he towers over Marcus, glaring down at him. "WOOD... CHOPPED? How dare you?"

 

[dimsdale]

"Oh, Mr. Lord Byron has lots of problems, first he has problems with his big mining island he owns. Then after we kills all the lizardmen and Lauto-dragon, then there is pirates. They from Bacarte and they gives bugbears a bad name, they kills people and then people is scared of Kane. Then Mr. Lord Byron lost some silver, and we go find it. That is lots of troubles there. Ummm, then we go on a ship and Kane fall in the water." the bugbear states.

The dwarf takes over from here, AND NOW HE'S BACK! KANE IS BACK! The dwarf the starts to sob uncontrollably. HE'S BACK...SAFE...I THOUGHT I LOST MY FRIEND!...more sobbing and then a forearm shiver to the bugbear, in the process spilling almost half of his own mug of ale. Kruk then pukes. The contents spews all over his beard. Not even attempting to wipe it off, the dwarf yawns and starts to snore, mumbling to himself...stinkbeard...grmmmff

 

[jbear]

Leather looks from the ent to the dwarf and then back again.

"How dare I what? Offer to chop wood? I dare because I am hungry."

He stares up at the massive tree, his face as expressionlessness as always. Without breaking eye contact he knocks his knuckles on the wooden table he sits at, then the wooden chair he sits upon.

"Are you here to challenge the one responsible for these monstrous wood carved objects? To right the wrong of such evil?"

He nods at the fire.

"Or to avenge the wood that began that fire?"

He points at Blagarm.

"I'd say you should probably go and shout at that one. He wouldn't even give a thirsty man a drink."

He then folds his arms awaiting a more sensible reply from his accuser.

 

[H.M.Gimlord]

Blagarm rolls his eyes, Mik'ould love this felluh

His face turns red with all the rage a fat bartender can manage, "Don' yah go strollin' intah 'ere an' blame me fahr wha' th' ownar wantstah do!" he wags a finger at Leather, "Ah jus' wark 'ere. Ah don' make th' rules!"


Oi, this fellah's no' gettin' a beer from me tah'night.

Then he rounds on ironheart, "An' yoo!" his face still red, steam practically exploding from the neckline of his apron, "Yoo c'n bet Ah'll 'ave a roarin' fahr in th'arth evrih night! An made o' dumb trees! No' such's yahrself!" he nods haughtily and folds his arm across his corpulent chest, "Anif yah don' like't yah c'n get yahr beer summeresle!"

 

[H.M.Gimlord]

OOC: [MENTION=87106]MetaVoid[/MENTION]: The trick is to read it phonetically about three times. Picture a really thick Irish accent mixed with some urban Queen's English and you'll get the idea. I think it would be more understandable spoken than written, but there you have it: the limitations of the written word. As Mark Twain said: "I make this explanation for the reason that without it many readers would suppose that all these characters were trying to talk alike and not succeeding."

[sblock=Translation]Blagarm rolls his eyes, Mikara would love this fellow!

His face turns red with all the rage a fat bartender can manage, "Don't you go strolling into here and blame me for what the owner wants to do!" he wags a finger at Leather, "I just work here! I don't make the rules!"


Oi, this fellow is not getting a beer from me tonight.

Then he rounds on ironheart, "And you!" his face still red, steam practically exploding from the neckline of his apron, "You can bet I'll have a roaring fire on the hearth every night! And made of dumb trees! Not such as yourself!" he nods haughtily and folds his arm across his corpulent chest, "And if you don't like it, you can get your beer somewhere else!"
[/sblock]

 

[jbear]

The left corner of Leather's mouth twitches. His eyes sparkle with the faintest flicker of mirth. At no point does he break what he assumes is eye contact with the ent. He shrugs his shoulders as if to say 'see, I told you so.'

 

[MetaVoid]

The trick is to read it phonetically about three times. Picture a really thick Irish accent mixed with some urban Queen's English and you'll get the idea. I think it would be more understandable spoken than written, but there you have it: the limitations of the written word.

I understand the text and read phonetically more naturaly then english (I'm slavic living temporarily in Africa), it's still hard. I wouldn't know what Irish accent (or Texas or Maine or whatever) is and couldn't distiguish any of those (except maybe british which I hear here and there)

 

[ANGRYxPIRATE]

The lights of the tavern twinkled in the distance as the weary traveler trudged along the cobbled path. His feet were heavy and his pack hung low on his shoulders obviously having traveled long into the night. The HANGED MAN?? What an ominous and uninviting name for such a well known tavern. The traveler thought before pushing open the large door with all the strength he could muster letting it swing closed behind him snapping shut so hard dust rained on his red hood. *COUGH cough* He cleared the dust from his sinuses looking left and right then up towards the many glasses and bottles of the tavern's bar.

Small in stature being only up to an average human's waist the traveler slipped through the gathering below the gaze of most. His red hooded cape shadowed his facial features say for the bump of a nose. Finding seating at a table meant for his size he pulled his cape in behind him letting the V shaped back brush the floor. Looking through his coin purse he pulled forth a couple of copper pieces and jingled them in his tiny fingerless gloved hand hoping to get the attention of a barkeep or tavern wench.