(Tavern) City of Orussus, The Red Dragon Inn IV

[doghead]

Daybreak.

The healing, bloodloss and that shot of brandy the healer insisted on had Jaan asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. But with the appearence of the sun, Jaan stirs and wakes. With a ravenous hunger.

He rolls out of bed, pulls on some clothes and heads down to the common room.

 

[GnomeWorks]

A man dressed in black and blue, a backpack slung on his back, enters the inn. He looks around, takes a good whiff of the air, then sighs.

"Ah," He says. "Good ta be back."

He takes a quick look around the inn, then takes a slight bow.

"I'm Troi Delmontes." He says, rising. "A student an' hunter a beasts."

With that, he heads for the bar and takes a seat.

"Just got back from th' Monastery of St. Feragon." He says to no one in particular. "Been a long journey... nice, but long. Can I get some breakfast, or somethin'?"

 

[Uriel]

A man dressed in black and blue, a backpack slung on his back, enters the inn. He looks around, takes a good whiff of the air, then sighs.

"Ah," He says. "Good ta be back."

He takes a quick look around the inn, then takes a slight bow.

"I'm Troi Delmontes." He says, rising. "A student an' hunter a beasts."

With that, he heads for the bar and takes a seat.

"Just got back from th' Monastery of St. Feragon." He says to no one in particular. "Been a long journey... nice, but long. Can I get some breakfast, or somethin'?"

OoC: I just looked at your sheet. The Short Sword that you took from the Ogre was Master Worked, btw...

 

[WizWrm]

A fairly young human wearing light chain armor under a loose shirt and trousers struts in. He's also wearing a well-made black cloak and a weather-beaten swordbelt, on which hangs a longsword as well as several vials and pouches.

He nods to the room. "I'm Velbrik," he says in a mildly musical voice. As the morning sun reflects off his black hair, a faint tint of dark green is visible. Velbrik walks over to an unoccupied table, drops his backpack, then slouches back in one of the chairs, glancing over the room's few occupants.

 

[doghead]

Jaan watches as the two new arrivals enter the inn.

At last a little company.

He nods to each as they announce themselves. If they aknowledge it, he too introduces himself.

"I am Jaan Saaresar, servant of Verdante."

 

[dpdx]

As the doors of the inn again burst open, a blond-bearded dwarf with what looks to be a haphazardly organized pack saunters in. Almost as prominent as the black horns atop his helm, are the various tools that bulge and stick out of the pack. A miner's pick, a crowbar, grappling hook - all of these make the dwarf appear to be a porcupine, what with the various sharp bits sticking out.

Almost as soon as the noise from the door abates, the dwarf speaks in a booming voice, in case Jack is hiding somewhere, about to drop the hammer on him - again.

"Oi, me name's Rurik, Rurik Axebender. Like ever' one o' me kind worth 'is salt, I mine, smith, fight, eat, drink, diddle an' sleep. An' I mean ta eat n' drink right aboot na' - we'll see aboot lat'r. Einkeeper! Dwarven ale an' a game hen if ya got't, Dwarven ale an' chicken if ya don't! No sense wastin' me mum's..."

As the pack lands on the floor with a whumph/clang, Rurik takes up a seat at the next table over from Velbrik, and nods to him and Troi: "Gennel-men..." And then his eyes catch Jaan. "'Ow ya doin'?"

 

[doghead]

Jaan grins back.

"Better than I was yesterday. And my name is Jaan Saaresar of Osilia, servant of Verdante."

 

[WizWrm]

Velbrik nods to acknowledge Rurik.

Glancing over to Jaan, he asks, "Did we miss anything interesting?"

 

[Guilt Puppy]

Another dwarf enters following Rurik, putting on some shiny new armor, bleeding heavily from the nose and eyebrow, and muttering loudly above his breath.

"Vexin' mean hit that last'n was!" He coughs, and spits something out on the shoulder of his breastplate -- its first blemish. "Ye've got a quick set o' shoulders, Rurik, but I still say 'at first shot were luck, wag."

He saddles up at the bar next to his partner in fisticuffs, laughing.

"Right, so 'is drinks are on me," he says to barkeep, pointing a knucled thumb at Rurik. "Still w'ot cost fer adventurin' folk, right?"

He laughs a satisfied laugh, and awaits his next drink.

He turns to the bar in general, and asks: "So, 'ny good fights out there what need fer attendin' on?"

 

[dpdx]

Rurik's grin catches a little mischievous edge as Sturm walks in. "O'er 'ere, ye blind wag!" [He's at the table, as from his experience, dwarves at the bar are generally the first ones to get tossed, if that sort of thing should happen.]

"Aye, I'm fixin' ta think tha' me jawr jes' pop't back inta place a minute ago. An' I'll grant ye it were luck, tha' furst 'un. An' yer will have a' drink of me Mum's ale, too, ye wag. That much ye promis't!"

Rurik brings the aforementioned jug out, waiting for his drink and meal to arrive. He yells back at whoever's on duty. "Einkeep! One more a' whot yer fixin' ta get me, if yer dun mind."