Sharn Tavern: The Tower's Shard

[Jarik]

Jarik sits alone sipping an inferior red wine as he ruminates on his latest magical experiments. He finds it hard to relax, and even feels a persistant twinge of guilt for stealing a moment away from his studies.

"Hey, some of you might want to have a look at this. Says here that there's some sort of rotting flying monster been attacking farmers 85 miles north of Sharn. The King's offering a 1,000 gp reward for the monster's destruction,you just have to present the monsters head to collect."

'Hmmm, intrigueing. I wonder if it's flight is natural or something inherent from it's living form. Well some gold would be handy, I might finally be able to summon back that rutting rodent from his sordid debaucheries. Spring is in the air indeed, more like his minds in the gutter!' Jarik thought taking a last sip of the foul wine before making his way over to the fellow - who was now offering skycab tickets.

Jarik takes the proffered ticket. "My thanks... A copper saved and all that." So saying he heads out of the tavern.

OOC: For flavor purposes Jarik already has a long time familiar - Weasel neamed Stoatley - who is currently away sowing his wild oats. When he gets the requisite 100 gp Stoatley will be summoned back from his summer of love.

 

[Anti-Sean]

Meksoor collected her gear and took a ticket from Brews with a curt nod. "This should be a welcome break from my studies. Thank you for the drink; it brought me back home, if only for a moment." With that, she headed for the door.

 

[InVinoVeritas]

Balnibar finishes gathering up the shavings, checks his tools, and almost heads out the door before claiming a ticket. "Thank you, Brews. I would be more than happy to share my experiences with you and everyone." He then pulls out a grey head wrap and starts trying to carefully tie his hair back when he realizes everyone else has already left the room.

"Oh, Framboozle!" he calls out as he hustles out the door, half a turban flapping out behind him.

 

[Patlin]

ooc: At this point, I believe that no adventurers remain in the inn.

 

[Kaodi]

A road weary traveller appears in the doorway of the Tower's Shard. He hesitates a moment to survey the room before entering. At a glance, he appears human, or at least rather tall for a half-elf, but his features are obscured by the hood of his travel stained cloak. Steely-grey eyes are quite visible, however, as are whiskers a startling shade of blue.

As the man approaches the counter, he quietly measures the warforged Brews. He pauses a moment to pull back his hood, revealing his blue lockes, and then he removes his equally worn gloves.

The man does indeed appear human, and quite a rugged looking one at that. He carries a bow and quiver on his shoulder. Under his cloak he wears leather armour covered in metal studs, and a deadly looking morningstar hangs at his side, along with a dagger shoved into his belt.

He takes another look around the room, empty except for himself and Brews, and comments, " Maybe I should come back another time. It looks like you are swamped. "

 

[Kaodi]

After pausing a moment in hopes of eliciting a comment, the man states, " I'll have some of whatever passes as the ' house specialty ' around here. " He hastily adds, " And I will pay, thanks. I do not barter my stories. They belong to me. "

He sits down, seeming to stare intently at the grain of wood in the counter, for there is nothing else where he is looking. While waiting for his drink, he looks around the empty room again, sighing heavily.

. o O ( So much for finding employment in short order. It looks like I may be waiting here for a long while. )

 

[Patlin]

Brew looks up, seeing his new customers disapointment and pouring him his drink.

"You know, a small group left not too long ago to go hunt some sort of monster up in farm country. You could probably catch up to them if you put your mind to it."

ooc: I could take one more in Zombie Hunt, if you would like.

 

[Drowned Hero]

Khuther Khyber - Dwarf Sorcerer

A dwarf enters the inn. At first look he appears almost as a beggar, his cloak is all torn to pieces and the man looks quite tired as he slumps down at the chairs near the bar. He looks around and see a warforged behind the bar attending some glasses of wine.
'Hey there mister' he calls out towards Brews 'If this is the The Tower's Shard and you are Brews i would like to have a McGruffin, tales of it travels all the way to the mountain and its deep from where i've come to make fortune and name' 'some good meat soup would be fine too' 'The winds is blowing heavily two days up in the mountain, i thought one the worst day of wind and rain, that the east wind was about to lift all my 154 lb and make me travel up to the peaks' 'i tell you its true, that furious, was that wind, like it was telling me not to come and taste your food and drink' he reaches out his right hand 'the name is Khuther'

 

[Kaodi]

The man replies, " I think I will leave them to it. I can afford to wait awhile until the next employer comes along. "

He turns when the door swings open, seeing the dingy looking dwarf. " Besides, I prefer to get to know people a little before I go gallavanting off into danger with them. " he says, taking his drink after Brews sets it on the counter in front of him. " How much do I owe you for the drink? And is it really as famous as the gentleman here seems to think? "

He sips from the mug before tilting it back to take a swig, then sets it back down on the counter with a thud.

 

[ajanders]

Sharn Noir

Dusk falls on Sharn.
An errant cold breeze howls out of a place not entirely of this world and smacks soundly into the warm wet air of Sharn.
A few moments later, it begins to rain.
Somewhere in Sharn, it always rains.

A drop of rain glistens in the air, then plummets down to a gleaming spire, spirals about a roof, and flies off an eave.
A moment later it flows across a sky-carriage, darkening and leaving a trail of yellow behind it as it falls.
The drop falls past the gleaming residential spires of Sharn, past celebrating nobles, past private tutors and roistering bards, dropping through the permanent illusions and magical lights of Sharn's commercial district, twisting in the wind past blank-faced changeling prostitutes, impassive warforged legbreakers, and sneering gnomish loan sharks.

The drop lands on a battered dark slouch hat worn by a battered pale man. The hat bears a number of other drops along the rim.

The man shakes the drops from his hat and passes through a door bearing the inscription
THE TOWER'S SHARD.

"My name is Kenn." the man rasps, then sneezes twice, shivering.
"Absinthe, please. With hot water."