[Online] 4th Edition D&D Game
- Thread starter saitir
- Start date
Ftr
First Post
point of view: Aaerdon
I spent hours before the party started getting my gear in parade order. I spent some of my precious last bit of hard coin on polish and a trip to the barber. A shave and haircut later, fully kitted, I left for the party. It wasn't far. The tavern hosting the shindig was The Limping Gith, one of my old stomping grounds.
I cut quite a figure, I thought, marching in the setting sun. The reddish light cast a hellish glow on the scales of my armor and the wide blade of my spear. I could only hope it was enough to get me a new post. There was always work for a guy like me in a city like this. But I don't want to become part of the increasingly tense machinations that make up our city's politics. I grew up on the streets and in a gang and Ive done a stint as a household regular. The only difference in this city is the uniform. ButI'll be damned if I go back to the streets a failure and begging for a job as an enforcer. I'll leave the city first.
Bringing myself to my full height and snapping my spear straight, I try to use my great size and choice of kit to make an impression as I come in view of The Limping Gith. The crowd is huge. The partyhas spilled out of the tavern and onto the adjacent wharf. I trade one of my few precious silver coins for a tankard of something cold and look around for familiar faces.
Faces from the past are everywhere. There are a few members of my old unit and units I've had contact with scattered through the crowd. They talk of old times and judging by their wild hand motions, relive old fights, as well. Taking a deep breath, I put on what I am sure is a good imitation of a smile, and begin to mingle.
It seems the story is the same. "Good to see you, Aaerdon. What unit did you end up joining?" Then the awkward silence when I reveal that I haven't been able to actually get hired on. The conversation gets uncomfortable and breaks up. After I've managed to disrupt a half dozen of these side conversations, a strong hand grabs my elbow and pulls me aside. I am shocked to see Kolban. the ranking sergeant from my old unit.
"Aaerdon, my boy, you look good." The grizzled vet leads my closer to the pier at the party's edge. "I've been watching you fall on your sword all night. It ain't going to work. You're not going to find work here. After you got your men killed on your first command gig, you gotta rep. Yer either bad luck, which no warrior wants a bit of; a stupid leader, which no warrior wants a bit of; or you were set up like you claimed, which makes you a marked man and no warrior wants a bit of. The fact that you still ain't got hired on despite your size and skills means you ain't fixed that bad mojo. Do yourself a favor and give it up. Your a freelancer now, whether you like it or not. If you don't start acting the part, you're gonna starve or end up back in the gutter." With that he left me standing by the pier, fighting the urge to throw myself into the river.
I spent hours before the party started getting my gear in parade order. I spent some of my precious last bit of hard coin on polish and a trip to the barber. A shave and haircut later, fully kitted, I left for the party. It wasn't far. The tavern hosting the shindig was The Limping Gith, one of my old stomping grounds.
I cut quite a figure, I thought, marching in the setting sun. The reddish light cast a hellish glow on the scales of my armor and the wide blade of my spear. I could only hope it was enough to get me a new post. There was always work for a guy like me in a city like this. But I don't want to become part of the increasingly tense machinations that make up our city's politics. I grew up on the streets and in a gang and Ive done a stint as a household regular. The only difference in this city is the uniform. ButI'll be damned if I go back to the streets a failure and begging for a job as an enforcer. I'll leave the city first.
Bringing myself to my full height and snapping my spear straight, I try to use my great size and choice of kit to make an impression as I come in view of The Limping Gith. The crowd is huge. The partyhas spilled out of the tavern and onto the adjacent wharf. I trade one of my few precious silver coins for a tankard of something cold and look around for familiar faces.
Faces from the past are everywhere. There are a few members of my old unit and units I've had contact with scattered through the crowd. They talk of old times and judging by their wild hand motions, relive old fights, as well. Taking a deep breath, I put on what I am sure is a good imitation of a smile, and begin to mingle.
It seems the story is the same. "Good to see you, Aaerdon. What unit did you end up joining?" Then the awkward silence when I reveal that I haven't been able to actually get hired on. The conversation gets uncomfortable and breaks up. After I've managed to disrupt a half dozen of these side conversations, a strong hand grabs my elbow and pulls me aside. I am shocked to see Kolban. the ranking sergeant from my old unit.
"Aaerdon, my boy, you look good." The grizzled vet leads my closer to the pier at the party's edge. "I've been watching you fall on your sword all night. It ain't going to work. You're not going to find work here. After you got your men killed on your first command gig, you gotta rep. Yer either bad luck, which no warrior wants a bit of; a stupid leader, which no warrior wants a bit of; or you were set up like you claimed, which makes you a marked man and no warrior wants a bit of. The fact that you still ain't got hired on despite your size and skills means you ain't fixed that bad mojo. Do yourself a favor and give it up. Your a freelancer now, whether you like it or not. If you don't start acting the part, you're gonna starve or end up back in the gutter." With that he left me standing by the pier, fighting the urge to throw myself into the river.
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Ftr
First Post
Point of view: Aaerdon part II
Screw it, I thought to myself. Freelancer, eh? Well then, lets see if I can't just scare up some paid work then. I began mingling again, although not attempting to find a job, but to listen to what people were talking about. Maybe a bit of gossip could lead to a bit of a rumble and some loot. At the old barracks, we would always hears stories of mercs making bold raids and even exploring Outside and coming back with gold and bits of magic. It seems that was to be my job now. Fine. I can do that. I'm strong. Stronger than anyone else I know. I've got my kit and a big bastard of a spear. I got everything I need to join one of these little merc parties. Now I just gotta find one.
It didn't take long to catch a whiff of something. A bard of questionable skill was chattin it up with a few of these adventurin types. I was about to cut in and try to say soething clever, when a hubbub stared over by the pier's edge. I pushed my way through to see if it meant a good fight was starting or maybe a bit of work was to be had.
Just a s I get to the pier, I can see my old mate John pointing at some barrels n the water. These were the big hogsheads that beer brewing and pickling is used for. I was just wondering what might be in them, when they burst open and a bunch of gobs came crawlin out like roaches. John and I looked at each other and smiled big toothy smiles. We readied our weapons in gleeful anticipation. This was turning out to be a good party after all!
The fight was a bit of a disappointment, really. Gobs are stupid and don't really put up much of a fight. Although there was one of them shaman types that hit me with some magic that had my blood on fire for a bit. It didn't last long. It never does. I'm just a too big for minor magic to really hurt. the highlight of the fight came when I got to watch a bunch of squishies getting their ass handed to em by a giant pigeon. John had to go over and put it down after ending a few gobs. As was my wont, I looked for the leader and sprinted towards him. It was a gob witchdoctor or something, perched on a bobbing barrel and tossing spells at the crowd. When I strode to the pier's edge, the gob hit me with something that felt like my blood was on fire. Damn it hurt! But I'm used to pain. Pain is something I understand.
The gob on the barrel looked smug, seeing the distance between the pier and his barrel. I smiled grimly and used a move I practice every day. Planting my feet like steel clad trees, I lunged over the edge of the pier and shot my greatspear out, catching only the last six inches of the shaft. The gleaming blade hurtled towards the gob. The blade was in his gut before he could even register surprise. IT was a good shot. The only thing that saved the gob was the distance. Only four inches of my spear actually reached him. It was enough. The now terrified gob threw himself into the water to escape me and was immolated by a blast of energy from one of the squishies in the crowd.
A lot of talk happened after the fight. I can't say that I followed it all. But eventually a small mob formed to go find out where the gobs came from and I decided to go as well. Maybe there would be loot. For sure there would be a good fight. My friend John was going, so at least I would know someone. Hell, maybe I'd make some friends, make some money, and get in a good fight or two along the way. This was a great party. I snap a souvenir off the neck of one of the gobs. I hang the strange little amulet on my armor with the dozens of others and prepare to move out. Good thing I brought my full kit...
Screw it, I thought to myself. Freelancer, eh? Well then, lets see if I can't just scare up some paid work then. I began mingling again, although not attempting to find a job, but to listen to what people were talking about. Maybe a bit of gossip could lead to a bit of a rumble and some loot. At the old barracks, we would always hears stories of mercs making bold raids and even exploring Outside and coming back with gold and bits of magic. It seems that was to be my job now. Fine. I can do that. I'm strong. Stronger than anyone else I know. I've got my kit and a big bastard of a spear. I got everything I need to join one of these little merc parties. Now I just gotta find one.
It didn't take long to catch a whiff of something. A bard of questionable skill was chattin it up with a few of these adventurin types. I was about to cut in and try to say soething clever, when a hubbub stared over by the pier's edge. I pushed my way through to see if it meant a good fight was starting or maybe a bit of work was to be had.
Just a s I get to the pier, I can see my old mate John pointing at some barrels n the water. These were the big hogsheads that beer brewing and pickling is used for. I was just wondering what might be in them, when they burst open and a bunch of gobs came crawlin out like roaches. John and I looked at each other and smiled big toothy smiles. We readied our weapons in gleeful anticipation. This was turning out to be a good party after all!
The fight was a bit of a disappointment, really. Gobs are stupid and don't really put up much of a fight. Although there was one of them shaman types that hit me with some magic that had my blood on fire for a bit. It didn't last long. It never does. I'm just a too big for minor magic to really hurt. the highlight of the fight came when I got to watch a bunch of squishies getting their ass handed to em by a giant pigeon. John had to go over and put it down after ending a few gobs. As was my wont, I looked for the leader and sprinted towards him. It was a gob witchdoctor or something, perched on a bobbing barrel and tossing spells at the crowd. When I strode to the pier's edge, the gob hit me with something that felt like my blood was on fire. Damn it hurt! But I'm used to pain. Pain is something I understand.
The gob on the barrel looked smug, seeing the distance between the pier and his barrel. I smiled grimly and used a move I practice every day. Planting my feet like steel clad trees, I lunged over the edge of the pier and shot my greatspear out, catching only the last six inches of the shaft. The gleaming blade hurtled towards the gob. The blade was in his gut before he could even register surprise. IT was a good shot. The only thing that saved the gob was the distance. Only four inches of my spear actually reached him. It was enough. The now terrified gob threw himself into the water to escape me and was immolated by a blast of energy from one of the squishies in the crowd.
A lot of talk happened after the fight. I can't say that I followed it all. But eventually a small mob formed to go find out where the gobs came from and I decided to go as well. Maybe there would be loot. For sure there would be a good fight. My friend John was going, so at least I would know someone. Hell, maybe I'd make some friends, make some money, and get in a good fight or two along the way. This was a great party. I snap a souvenir off the neck of one of the gobs. I hang the strange little amulet on my armor with the dozens of others and prepare to move out. Good thing I brought my full kit...
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kingchddg90
First Post
John POV
Preparing for the reunion get-together I was wondering why I was invited as I had been cashiered. Strapping on my armor and preparing my weapons because you never know when you might need them. As I head out it crosses my mind that I have no clue t who else might be there. When I arrive I see several people around a minstrel and my old comrade [FONT="]Aaerdon as I approached with my ale he greeted me asked me about work.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]I tried to steer him towards working with me on some contracts but it seems he is still a little too nervous about the law. A little bit later I noticed some barrels near the end of the dock. Curious I head over to them Aaerdon follows me. A small group of Goblins pour out of the barrels preparing to attack.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Drawing my swords as I get hit by a wave of magic from some hand waving fool of a gob. Another gob gets right in my face trying to attack me I proceed to deliver a [/FONT] [FONT="]vicious slash that drops him back in the water. I continue and move towards the rest of the goblins. another goblins try to attack me and misses I hit him with both blades an he just goes to pieces. suddenly another gob jumps out from behind one of the wagons with the beer and attacks the mage that joined the fray. I deliver a crushing blow to the creature killing it instantly.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]I look around the fight an notice all that remains standing are the gob that cast a spell on me one bird and some little guy about to get crushed by [/FONT][FONT="]Aaerdon. I go after the bird give it a pretty good hit but somehow it stays in the air. just seconds later it goes down and I look to see what is left and [/FONT][FONT="]Aaerdon is lunging with that spear of his nicking the gob with tip of his spear. from behind me a dagger comes flying straight into the shoulder of the gob who had jumped off and was swimming away followed by a blast of magic that utterly destroyed him.[/FONT]
[FONT="]Looking around after the fight was over we find a bit of gold and some amulets that have bits of gob fingers in them. I take one an stow it. While looking for more loot I notice some strange markings on the barrels. I cant identify [/FONT]them so i copy them down an hold on to them for later study.
[FONT="]After a bit of discussion we decided to head out into the woods I go with them hoping they know what they are getting into.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT]
Preparing for the reunion get-together I was wondering why I was invited as I had been cashiered. Strapping on my armor and preparing my weapons because you never know when you might need them. As I head out it crosses my mind that I have no clue t who else might be there. When I arrive I see several people around a minstrel and my old comrade [FONT="]Aaerdon as I approached with my ale he greeted me asked me about work.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]I tried to steer him towards working with me on some contracts but it seems he is still a little too nervous about the law. A little bit later I noticed some barrels near the end of the dock. Curious I head over to them Aaerdon follows me. A small group of Goblins pour out of the barrels preparing to attack.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Drawing my swords as I get hit by a wave of magic from some hand waving fool of a gob. Another gob gets right in my face trying to attack me I proceed to deliver a [/FONT] [FONT="]vicious slash that drops him back in the water. I continue and move towards the rest of the goblins. another goblins try to attack me and misses I hit him with both blades an he just goes to pieces. suddenly another gob jumps out from behind one of the wagons with the beer and attacks the mage that joined the fray. I deliver a crushing blow to the creature killing it instantly.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]I look around the fight an notice all that remains standing are the gob that cast a spell on me one bird and some little guy about to get crushed by [/FONT][FONT="]Aaerdon. I go after the bird give it a pretty good hit but somehow it stays in the air. just seconds later it goes down and I look to see what is left and [/FONT][FONT="]Aaerdon is lunging with that spear of his nicking the gob with tip of his spear. from behind me a dagger comes flying straight into the shoulder of the gob who had jumped off and was swimming away followed by a blast of magic that utterly destroyed him.[/FONT]
[FONT="]Looking around after the fight was over we find a bit of gold and some amulets that have bits of gob fingers in them. I take one an stow it. While looking for more loot I notice some strange markings on the barrels. I cant identify [/FONT]them so i copy them down an hold on to them for later study.
[FONT="]After a bit of discussion we decided to head out into the woods I go with them hoping they know what they are getting into.[/FONT][FONT="]
[/FONT]
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Emere's monologue
It’s nice of them to send the get together invitation to me still. Perhaps someone in higher up do think whatever happened isn’t my fault. Or perhaps it’s just the event organizer hasn’t received the word of my dishonorable discharge. I must believe it’s the former rather than latter, for the sake of my sanity.
In any case, I hope I’m not regretting my choice to go. I do not enjoy being the butt of a joke or being the gossip of the event, but The Limping Gith do serve good meat loaf and strong ale. And it’s been a while since I tasted good food. Who knows what information I can get at the party?
True to my fear, people snickered when they saw me. Some even openly pointed at me and said something witty to their companions before they burst into laughter. It took a lot of will to resist the temptation of introducing my first to their face.
“At least, the food is good,” I reminded myself.
I didn’t have much luck in getting a job there. Most people talked about raids to Outsides, complained about certain pain in the neck officers, and of course, gossiped about certain salacious wenches. I overheard someone mentioned that the Minotaur are screwing with city’s economy with their fake gold.
Bah! What do a bunch of dumb brutes know about counterfeiting?
It was towards the evening where there was a sudden commotion at the wharf. A couple of goblins were attacking. One thing you have to know about goblins is that they aren’t bright. How could they expect attacking a get-together party, attended by military soldiers, be anything but an epic failure?
The party ended. Time to work.
At least, the food was good.
-Emere
It’s nice of them to send the get together invitation to me still. Perhaps someone in higher up do think whatever happened isn’t my fault. Or perhaps it’s just the event organizer hasn’t received the word of my dishonorable discharge. I must believe it’s the former rather than latter, for the sake of my sanity.
In any case, I hope I’m not regretting my choice to go. I do not enjoy being the butt of a joke or being the gossip of the event, but The Limping Gith do serve good meat loaf and strong ale. And it’s been a while since I tasted good food. Who knows what information I can get at the party?
True to my fear, people snickered when they saw me. Some even openly pointed at me and said something witty to their companions before they burst into laughter. It took a lot of will to resist the temptation of introducing my first to their face.
“At least, the food is good,” I reminded myself.
I didn’t have much luck in getting a job there. Most people talked about raids to Outsides, complained about certain pain in the neck officers, and of course, gossiped about certain salacious wenches. I overheard someone mentioned that the Minotaur are screwing with city’s economy with their fake gold.
Bah! What do a bunch of dumb brutes know about counterfeiting?
It was towards the evening where there was a sudden commotion at the wharf. A couple of goblins were attacking. One thing you have to know about goblins is that they aren’t bright. How could they expect attacking a get-together party, attended by military soldiers, be anything but an epic failure?
The party ended. Time to work.
At least, the food was good.
-Emere
FusionCell
First Post
Icarus' Tale
The messenger finds Icarus sitting on some crates in an alley.
He looks down at the tattered, unkempt man. "Lieutenant? I have a letter here for you."
Bemused, Icarus replies, "Ha, if you say so lad."
"Sir?"
"Nevermind, hand it over." The messenger gives the note to the once proud officer, stands up straight arms back, waiting patiently.
Icarus starts opening the letter, notices the messenger still there. "Er... dismissed."
Messenger salutes, turns and leaves.
With a confused smile, Icarus resumes opening the letter. It's an invitation to a small military reunion at a local tavern. Food and drink provided free.
Icarus simply thinks, why not. It should be good to see some old faces.
With that he swipes a jug of water from a merchants stall, washes his face and clothes and sets off to The Limping Gith.
The reunion went as expected. For the most part. The party gets into full swing when a scream from a crowd and a band of rather violent looking goblins burst from a bunch of floating barrels. The fight ends quickly enough, no surprise given the military nature of the attendees.
There was definitely something odd about these particular goblins. They were wearing odd amulets, marking them as an organised band. Together, Atnod, Emere and Icarus figure out the magic nature of the amulets and their tie to a mysterious cult with dark and suspicious plans.
His curiosity piqued, Icarus is very ready to follow the river and find these goblins. Especially given the peculiar magic ritual about these amulets...
(ooc: it was me, atnod and emere, wasn't it? Emere first did a history check, that figured out the cult. then i did a religion check that found out the old 'false' goddess thing. then atnod detected magic on the lot. i think.)
The messenger finds Icarus sitting on some crates in an alley.
He looks down at the tattered, unkempt man. "Lieutenant? I have a letter here for you."
Bemused, Icarus replies, "Ha, if you say so lad."
"Sir?"
"Nevermind, hand it over." The messenger gives the note to the once proud officer, stands up straight arms back, waiting patiently.
Icarus starts opening the letter, notices the messenger still there. "Er... dismissed."
Messenger salutes, turns and leaves.
With a confused smile, Icarus resumes opening the letter. It's an invitation to a small military reunion at a local tavern. Food and drink provided free.
Icarus simply thinks, why not. It should be good to see some old faces.
With that he swipes a jug of water from a merchants stall, washes his face and clothes and sets off to The Limping Gith.
The reunion went as expected. For the most part. The party gets into full swing when a scream from a crowd and a band of rather violent looking goblins burst from a bunch of floating barrels. The fight ends quickly enough, no surprise given the military nature of the attendees.
There was definitely something odd about these particular goblins. They were wearing odd amulets, marking them as an organised band. Together, Atnod, Emere and Icarus figure out the magic nature of the amulets and their tie to a mysterious cult with dark and suspicious plans.
His curiosity piqued, Icarus is very ready to follow the river and find these goblins. Especially given the peculiar magic ritual about these amulets...
(ooc: it was me, atnod and emere, wasn't it? Emere first did a history check, that figured out the cult. then i did a religion check that found out the old 'false' goddess thing. then atnod detected magic on the lot. i think.)
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bobbyblues
First Post
The Eagle has Landed ( 
)
Emrick sits atop a building the night before the party and he plans on attending, especially when so many experienced people will be there. Clinching his fist as he stares at the moon, ever beautiful, but it has lost its grand appeal since his love died. I will become stronger, I promise you! (I either sneak into the party or ninja a invitation from a guest)
Once at the party Its clear Emrick stands out as a much lesser man until you get closer and see hes not even really a man, but a "filthy half-breed". Use to hearing such pathetic, undeserved, and bias rabble. Emrick just sits back mostly gauging peoples power. One man obviously stands out, he is the opposite of Emrick, a giant of a man to even a man. Aaerdon was apparently his name and he looked like he had plenty of tales to tell. They were so many others that stood out that Emrick was about to finally go and speak with... but
-Battle music starts-
Goblins appear out of barrels by the pier and start to attack the party. Emrick being the fastest ( and coolest -cough-) person around went first and sent a flaming goblin back to the water. A quick fight pursued and the goblins were eliminated. The highlight of the battle and of the party was the giant underwater explosion that obliterated a goblin. Afterward he and the others talked a bit and finally decided to go on a adventure. Before leaving he skillfully pick-pocketed a amulet and bag of gold from a attendee of the party. What he plans for the orb will come with time as do all things.... ( Whew finally done, I think)
) Emrick sits atop a building the night before the party and he plans on attending, especially when so many experienced people will be there. Clinching his fist as he stares at the moon, ever beautiful, but it has lost its grand appeal since his love died. I will become stronger, I promise you! (I either sneak into the party or ninja a invitation from a guest)
Once at the party Its clear Emrick stands out as a much lesser man until you get closer and see hes not even really a man, but a "filthy half-breed". Use to hearing such pathetic, undeserved, and bias rabble. Emrick just sits back mostly gauging peoples power. One man obviously stands out, he is the opposite of Emrick, a giant of a man to even a man. Aaerdon was apparently his name and he looked like he had plenty of tales to tell. They were so many others that stood out that Emrick was about to finally go and speak with... but
-Battle music starts-
Goblins appear out of barrels by the pier and start to attack the party. Emrick being the fastest ( and coolest -cough-) person around went first and sent a flaming goblin back to the water. A quick fight pursued and the goblins were eliminated. The highlight of the battle and of the party was the giant underwater explosion that obliterated a goblin. Afterward he and the others talked a bit and finally decided to go on a adventure. Before leaving he skillfully pick-pocketed a amulet and bag of gold from a attendee of the party. What he plans for the orb will come with time as do all things.... ( Whew finally done, I think)
mistersolve
First Post
Gavin's Wall O' Text
As taverns go, The Limping Gith did not seem extraordinary. While its waterside location was certainly a convenience, it also assuredly hastened the building's aging process. Glancing about, it did not take one long to discern that the place's best days were likely behind it. From the mildew slowly creeping up the walls in the darkened corners, to the cracked and occasionally squeaky planked floor, to the sparse decor which seemed to be mainly comprised of large unmarked crates and one poorly tended plant, it seemed that the only thing keeping Old Man Gith from shambling creakily off his rickety dockside perch was the thorough pickling of his bones through countless years of spilled libations.
But as Gavin's father was fond of saying, "In character, in manners, in style, in all things, the supreme excellence is simplicity." It fit the Gith to the letter. Perhaps it wasn't fit to host a royal ball, but there was something to be said for good, honest company and simple, strong drink. The Limping Gith was well equipped to offer this respite without pretension or complication.
As he made his way down the bustling dockside toward the washed out, rusty collection of lettering that marked the tavern's entry sign, Gavin realized it had been quite awhile since he had taken time to visit this section of Milranya. In such a vast metropolis, it was easy to become mired in the rut of the familiar daily routine. Indeed, many citizens seemed content to live out their entire lives without venturing far from their home districts. As a resident of Final Communion, Gavin had more familiarity with citizens throughout Milranya than most, and he had struck up friendships with more than a few. But in spite of all his efforts to maintain these relationships, even he was beginning to succumb to the inertia of everyday life. The thought was a discouraging one.
Gavin quickly shook the concerns from his mind as he strode underneath the threadbare yellow awning and into the darkened, dilapidated timbers that made up the interior of the Gith proper. Tonight was a time for celebration, for renewing old friendships, for discovering new ones...and of course, for copious besotted gluttony!
Although his brief military career could by no means be classified as successful, Gavin did not consider it unpleasant. Of all the Milranyan institutions, the military was perhaps the most eclectic. The mandatory service period for citizens of a certain age meant that all but the most privileged were destined to spend at least some small amount of time together. And so during his training, Gavin had a chance to meet and befriend people from all over the city. The shared experiences that defined the crucible of military service made for strong ties; thus, Gavin had been able to maintain a good many of his friendships even in his civilian life. He had been most glad of their invitation to the most recent military gathering at The Limping Gith and was very much looking forward to a jubilant evening of camaraderie.
As taverns go, The Limping Gith did not seem extraordinary. While its waterside location was certainly a convenience, it also assuredly hastened the building's aging process. Glancing about, it did not take one long to discern that the place's best days were likely behind it. From the mildew slowly creeping up the walls in the darkened corners, to the cracked and occasionally squeaky planked floor, to the sparse decor which seemed to be mainly comprised of large unmarked crates and one poorly tended plant, it seemed that the only thing keeping Old Man Gith from shambling creakily off his rickety dockside perch was the thorough pickling of his bones through countless years of spilled libations.
But as Gavin's father was fond of saying, "In character, in manners, in style, in all things, the supreme excellence is simplicity." It fit the Gith to the letter. Perhaps it wasn't fit to host a royal ball, but there was something to be said for good, honest company and simple, strong drink. The Limping Gith was well equipped to offer this respite without pretension or complication.
As he made his way down the bustling dockside toward the washed out, rusty collection of lettering that marked the tavern's entry sign, Gavin realized it had been quite awhile since he had taken time to visit this section of Milranya. In such a vast metropolis, it was easy to become mired in the rut of the familiar daily routine. Indeed, many citizens seemed content to live out their entire lives without venturing far from their home districts. As a resident of Final Communion, Gavin had more familiarity with citizens throughout Milranya than most, and he had struck up friendships with more than a few. But in spite of all his efforts to maintain these relationships, even he was beginning to succumb to the inertia of everyday life. The thought was a discouraging one.
Gavin quickly shook the concerns from his mind as he strode underneath the threadbare yellow awning and into the darkened, dilapidated timbers that made up the interior of the Gith proper. Tonight was a time for celebration, for renewing old friendships, for discovering new ones...and of course, for copious besotted gluttony!
Although his brief military career could by no means be classified as successful, Gavin did not consider it unpleasant. Of all the Milranyan institutions, the military was perhaps the most eclectic. The mandatory service period for citizens of a certain age meant that all but the most privileged were destined to spend at least some small amount of time together. And so during his training, Gavin had a chance to meet and befriend people from all over the city. The shared experiences that defined the crucible of military service made for strong ties; thus, Gavin had been able to maintain a good many of his friendships even in his civilian life. He had been most glad of their invitation to the most recent military gathering at The Limping Gith and was very much looking forward to a jubilant evening of camaraderie.
mistersolve
First Post
Gavin's Wall O' Text 2: Electric Bugaloo
With the ale and spirits flowing freely and the savory scent of smoked meats wafting through the air, the evening began splendidly. Before long, Gavin and company were well into their cups. And, full of inebriated enthusiasm, the idea had somehow sprung from somewhere within the group that it was time to take the celebration on the road...after one more round, of course! As it was Gavin's turn to fetch the drinks, he staggered happily across the Gith's planked floor to refresh the beverages. And so it was that on his way back, burdened with a tray crammed with so many heaping tankards that he had resorted to stacking them upon themselves like blocks, Gavin first happened upon the curious strangers.
Have you ever laid eyes upon a man and simply been struck by an odd, gestalt feeling, somewhere deep in your gut, that he is somehow subtly yet markedly extraordinary? That somewhere just below the surface of this apparently normal being lies the capacity for greatness? Perhaps you have not, which is understandable; such a rare creation would surely be among the most valued prizes in any menagerie, were it constructed sturdily enough to hold its powerful captive. But if you have ever felt this strange sensation, chances are that you've seen what they call an adventurer. And if you have been fortunate enough to behold this sight, you can only imagine how you would feel in Gavin's shoes as he half-tripped over several of them, sitting together at the same table.
Now Gavin, being rather obtuse even at his most sober, hadn't the slightest inkling of any odd sensations, save for perhaps the drunken tingling of the spirits in his extremities. But being an altogether polite fellow, he proceded to engage the strangers and offer them some of the fermented bounty he had gathered. After introducing himself, Gavin stumbled over to an open seat and squinted at them smilingly through the wondrous haze of drink addled eyes, a ridiculously large tankard balanced gently upon one knee like a favorite nephew.
On the surface, they seemed a friendly lot, salt of the earth fellows dealing with the vexations of everyday life. And like many of the militiamen assembled tonight in the Gith, they had clearly dedicated themselves to disciplines of war in one form or another. But signs of their exemplary prowess were evident in their own insidious ways: in a brief glimpse of rippling muscle, a preternaturally easy agility, or a shrewd glance that constantly scanned the premises, registering every detail. The group exuded an air of dangerous competence.
Despite his drunken state, or maybe because of it, Gavin decided that these were some truly interesting people. He'd just resolved to really make an effort to get to know them, when suddenly The Limping Gith turned into a pitched battlefield. To poor Gavin, the whole affair became rather a blur, a runaway carousel of screams, loud clangs, and the unmistakable scent of blood as those gathered closed ranks to repel their assailants.
When the shouting finally subsided, Gavin found himself beside his deadly new acquaintances. They were standing over a small pile of dead goblins. And although he was uncertain of precisely what had occurred, Gavin could not suppress a grin. No matter what happened next, he could at least content himself in the knowledge that the events would be a far cry from the doldrums of rote daily routine.
With the ale and spirits flowing freely and the savory scent of smoked meats wafting through the air, the evening began splendidly. Before long, Gavin and company were well into their cups. And, full of inebriated enthusiasm, the idea had somehow sprung from somewhere within the group that it was time to take the celebration on the road...after one more round, of course! As it was Gavin's turn to fetch the drinks, he staggered happily across the Gith's planked floor to refresh the beverages. And so it was that on his way back, burdened with a tray crammed with so many heaping tankards that he had resorted to stacking them upon themselves like blocks, Gavin first happened upon the curious strangers.
Have you ever laid eyes upon a man and simply been struck by an odd, gestalt feeling, somewhere deep in your gut, that he is somehow subtly yet markedly extraordinary? That somewhere just below the surface of this apparently normal being lies the capacity for greatness? Perhaps you have not, which is understandable; such a rare creation would surely be among the most valued prizes in any menagerie, were it constructed sturdily enough to hold its powerful captive. But if you have ever felt this strange sensation, chances are that you've seen what they call an adventurer. And if you have been fortunate enough to behold this sight, you can only imagine how you would feel in Gavin's shoes as he half-tripped over several of them, sitting together at the same table.
Now Gavin, being rather obtuse even at his most sober, hadn't the slightest inkling of any odd sensations, save for perhaps the drunken tingling of the spirits in his extremities. But being an altogether polite fellow, he proceded to engage the strangers and offer them some of the fermented bounty he had gathered. After introducing himself, Gavin stumbled over to an open seat and squinted at them smilingly through the wondrous haze of drink addled eyes, a ridiculously large tankard balanced gently upon one knee like a favorite nephew.
On the surface, they seemed a friendly lot, salt of the earth fellows dealing with the vexations of everyday life. And like many of the militiamen assembled tonight in the Gith, they had clearly dedicated themselves to disciplines of war in one form or another. But signs of their exemplary prowess were evident in their own insidious ways: in a brief glimpse of rippling muscle, a preternaturally easy agility, or a shrewd glance that constantly scanned the premises, registering every detail. The group exuded an air of dangerous competence.
Despite his drunken state, or maybe because of it, Gavin decided that these were some truly interesting people. He'd just resolved to really make an effort to get to know them, when suddenly The Limping Gith turned into a pitched battlefield. To poor Gavin, the whole affair became rather a blur, a runaway carousel of screams, loud clangs, and the unmistakable scent of blood as those gathered closed ranks to repel their assailants.
When the shouting finally subsided, Gavin found himself beside his deadly new acquaintances. They were standing over a small pile of dead goblins. And although he was uncertain of precisely what had occurred, Gavin could not suppress a grin. No matter what happened next, he could at least content himself in the knowledge that the events would be a far cry from the doldrums of rote daily routine.
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