Tales From The Old Bald One-Eyed Salty Red Dog Tavern! (chapter 1, now closed)

[Ranger Rick]

After the introduction, Desert goes back to watching the sails.

 

[LogicsFate]

"My dearest K., Would you be so kind as to assist me in learning a bit of your ways, I assume you are a caster of great reknown, and I would love to learn to mend and clean my outfits with magics. I am sure that one of your caliber would be able to do so. I would also like to reward Richard for the work he does, such as disposing of that trash. Mayhaps I will see about creating him a nice set of comfortable pajamas and an outfit for his downtime leisure."

Of course, of course, but you don't need to be a great caster to do those things, hell even a bard could manage that, but for now I'll clean our outfits if I must, as for repairs" K sighs heavily "I'll prepare that spell tomorrow, come to me tonight and I'll clean the blood off your shirt, I'd do it now but... " K grins "I have a feeling you're just going to get it bloodied again"

 

[Lazlow]

Another day, another tavern...

The five of you walk back down the docks towards the Water Weasel. The morning bustle of the harbor is in full swing now, with ships docking and undocking, cargoes loading and unloading, and sailors, uh... Sailing and, er, unsailing. Ahem. Yes yes, so you arrive on the doorstep of the infamous Water Weasel, a right ghastly place compared to the welcoming arms of The Old Bald One-Eyed Salty Red Dog Tavern. The door, if it could be called as such, is actually only a few planks of worn and worm-ridden wood suspended from the top of the archway by a few coils of dirty rope. They swing aside, and you make your way to the main room - which, strangely enough, is very nearly empty. Well, it would be strange if you were a local and knew that this place was where all the non-working drunkards congregated to greet the morning. Or afternoon, or evening, as it were. Suffice to say it would usually be at least half full. But right now, it's empty, save for the bartender and a lone customer, a lean and hungry gentleman leaning against the bar, shot glass in his hand and a long length of cold steel on his hip.

"Well," the imbiber intones, "you lot are either eager to perish, or you're all madder than a bilgerat in wedding flowers." He finally turns around and faces you, propping an elbow on the bar and a foot on a nearby stool. "He's not here. Probably in his villa. But don't worry, he'll find you soon enough." He takes a long, slow sip from his shot glass, draining it.

It is at this point that you realize that there are actually six of you in your party, not just five.

 

[Lazlow]

After the introduction, Desert goes back to watching the sails.

"Hey, Desert, you ever been on a boat?" Hubba asks, taking a seat next to his newfound friend. "I love boats. My pappy and me, we've always had boats. He's a boater. Boats people all up and down the Greenwater, and all over the lake. He's had all kinds of boats. Sailboats... Paddleboats... Rowboats... Skiffboats... John boats... Tug boats... Canoe boats... Horse boats... Barge boats..."

 

[Gray Shade]

Berserker Bill steps forward and then turns to the party. "See? Like drunky up at the bar said, he'll find us. Let's not spend all our time trying to find him. Not when we could be on the road after the Orb. C'mon, we need to head north."

 

[Ranger Rick]

"Hey, Desert, you ever been on a boat?" Hubba asks, taking a seat next to his newfound friend. "I love boats. My pappy and me, we've always had boats. He's a boater. Boats people all up and down the Greenwater, and all over the lake. He's had all kinds of boats. Sailboats... Paddleboats... Rowboats... Skiffboats... John boats... Tug boats... Canoe boats... Horse boats... Barge boats..."

"N...No. I have n...n...have n...n...n...n...have n...n...n...n...n...n...n...have not been on one. I have s...s...s...s...seen them on land. Are they safe?"

 

[Lazlow]

Berserker Bill steps forward and then turns to the party. "See? Like drunky up at the bar said, he'll find us. Let's not spend all our time trying to find him. Not when we could be on the road after the Orb. C'mon, we need to head north."

"Heh. You got some mouth on ye there... Sheriff." The lean stranger tosses back another shot that's appeared next to him. "You might oughta watch that. Could getcha in... Trouble." He cocks his tri-cornered hat back and the feather in it wiggles for a curiously long period of time afterward. He puts his hand on his sword casually and leans even more onto the bar.

"Yep... Trouble."

 

[Gray Shade]

Berserker Bill turns to the drunk and pulls out his sword. He approaches the man and says, "I wasn't talkin' to you so why don't you just shut yer yap before I cut it off your face."

(OOC: If he starts to speak again, Berserker Bill will Power Attack for 3 with his sword in both hands)

 

[Lazlow]

"N...No. I have n...n...have n...n...n...n...have n...n...n...n...n...n...n...have not been on one. I have s...s...s...s...seen them on land. Are they safe?"

"Oh, yeah, safe as clams," Hubba answers. "Do you like clams? I like clams. Pappy and me go clamdiggin' all the time after we go around in our boats."

 

[Lazlow]

Berserker Bill turns to the drunk and pulls out his sword. He approaches the man and says, "I wasn't talkin' to you so why don't you just shut yer yap before I cut it off your face."

(OOC: If he starts to speak again, Berserker Bill will Power Attack for 3 with his sword in both hands)

OOC: Holy crap, man

=============

"Temper temper, now," the stranger says, tossing back another shot. Dang man, did you even see him reach back for another glass? I didn't. What the heck? Er, anyway, as he does so you notice a glint of shiny metal gleaming from between the folds of his shirt. Looks like there's some engraving on it of some sort.

But, no matter, your Barbarian temper gets the best of you and your sword flashes in a vicious arc aimed straight for the stranger's "yap", as you put it. A deft sidestep from the stranger eludes any damage, however, and suddenly his hand moves quickly to his side.

"Careful now, Sheriff," he says stretching his hand out to you. "Here, you need one."

Looking down, you see in his hand yet another shotglass, full of amber liquid.