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

[Vigwyn the Unruly]

Turning to face Scun, Somac answers, "Thank you for your candor, Cleric. One can not ask for much more. However, you are right in sensing that I do not trust half-orcs. Many an orc has been known to speak sweetly to the cleaner races, all the while holding a dagger behind his back. You speak sweetly...and you may also hold a dagger.

"While I will not tell my full story at this time, I will tell you that I recently left my tribe in disgrace. I left of my own will in order to preserve the peace, as I had been falsely accused of plotting to usurp the title of chieftain. And those that accused me, men who sadly knew better, were conspiring with silver tongued orcs! I won't hide from you that several of these same orcs died at the edge of my sword before I hung my head and forever left the land of my fathers."

The barbarian is barely able to contain his rage at the memory, and he trembles visibly. Calming himself, he continues, "However, Cleric, silver though your tongue may be, your carry with you a carefree spirit. Such a spirit is incompatible with orcish conniving and hatred, and is undoubtedly a gift of your deity, Mongrel. Therefore, while your internal struggle may be more precarious than you outwardly display, I believe that the good in you is subduing the evil. While I may not *trust* those of your race, I find it difficult to *dis*trust you."

 

[Rae ArdGaoth]

Rasereit listens to the conversation going on around him, enjoying the warm feeling of finally being a part of a group, however temporary it may be, the feeling aided by the cool drink sliding down his throat every now and then. 'Taint s'bad, this beer stuff, eh Razh? There's a time and a place, sure, but there's a time and a place for everything. Like killin' goblins and orcs! Arr...! He grins outwardly at the prospect.

It's about this time that his two companions begin conversing about orcs, half-orcs, and the mild apprehensiveness of Somac. Which the dwarf shares completely. But seeing as the half-orc worships Mongrel, how bad could the bloke be? It seems as though the human barbarian has reached a similar verdict. "Oh aye! This old dog here seems like a true mate, eh green one?" He chuckles and takes another swig. "Ah won't lie to yer face, Ah hate your orcish kin, nasty brutes, the lot of them. Leastwise, the ones Ah've known are. But Ah'll be agreein' with Sumac 'ere's opinion. 'ow could any Mongrellian be all that bad, eh friends? Ha har!" Damn if it don't feel good to be here, the cheered warrior thinks to himself, though Ah do wish that somethin' 'ld happen! Me blades are thirsty for action, that is what Ah came here to find, after all. This ale is mighty good tastin' though, wonder what the old Joe fellow puts in it? The only alcohol Ah ever tasted was sickening stuff that made ya want to spit it right back out. Blech, makes me gag a bit just thinkin' o' the grog...

Seeming a bit drunk, Rasereit is chuckling at the tiniest things, glad to finally see his good humor again. He is still a dwarf, though, and rather than the ale controlling him, it is he that controls the ale. Despite his apparent wild attitude, he is completely awake and very sober and is simply enjoying the small amount of emotional distance the alcohol is giving him. Just under the surface, however, a spark still burns, a fire that will never be quenched, that does not want to be quenched. A fire that flares and grows and dies and burns, incessantly. A fire that lives and breathes with its dwarven master. He will never forget his beloved first companion, and he will never forget his hatred for those who took her away from him.

But for now, at least, he has put it all behind him, to enjoy a marvelous night with some new friends.

OOC: This is surprisingly fun, though I grow more and more eager to emark on an adventure soon. Any idea when that will be? In the mean time, I continue to check and update every day, and it always makes me smile when I see that someone has continued the dialogue a bit further.

 

[Brain]

Scun smiles and laughs, enjoying the company and the hospitality of the famous tavern. He listens to what has been said and takes a moment to finish another ale before launching into another speech.

"You think that Mongrel made me the way I am? That is not true. I am the way I am because of my environment and how I choose to deal with it. Perhaps if I had been raised by orcs and accepted among them, I would be like they are. I could have ended up the same way being raised by humans or dwarves as well. I certainly have changed because I found Mongrel, but he helps those who help themselves.

Mongrel teaches us to rely on ourselves, and with that comes a great sense of freedom, not being bound to the wills of others, but instead doing what you feel is right. Of course along with that comes responsibility for our actions. For who can you blame but yourself when something you do turns out badly? But it is self-responsibility, not to some other entity. Mongrel does not make me good or bad, but reminds me that I am alone with myself and I have to be comfortable with the choices I make."

 

[Knight Otu]

"Wise words, Scun. Prejudice can be one of the most self-destructive motivations in existance. Most everyone, and certainly any mortal, can change his ways if given the chance - and prejudices can turn out wrong.

But if you excuse me, I'll take a walk and familiarize myself with Orussus a bit."

 

[Rae ArdGaoth]

Hey now there, mate! Don't be taken no offense at me words, meant it as a compliment, not a ... a goad! Come on then, chap, have some more o' this stuff, lighten yer mood a bit! The dwarf practically force feeds Scun a mug of ale, trying a bit too hard to recover from whatever mistake he made in his previous comments. He's not exactly used to the social life yet, and doesn't quite understand why his innocent (to him, at least) comments were taken so wrongly. Hmm... talking with yerself and an 'orse for twenty isn't too great for the people skills, is it? He chuckles to himself, hoping he has avoided a possible negative situation.

 

[Brain]

"I'm not offended, just long-winded. I like to let people know where I stand, and tell it like I see it. Also, I'm eager to tell people about Mongrel's teachings, for I have certainly improved my life through them, and hope to help others to do the same."

 

[Rae ArdGaoth]

"Ach, Sumac, me old chap, don't be shy with yer tale o' woe. Fear not o' shadowin' mine, 'tis best to get it off yer chest soon, eh mate?"

 

[DM-Rocco]

Just wondering if anyone is judging Dealing with hooly-gans as a DM has not posted in about a week or so?

 

[Knight Otu]

Just wondering if anyone is judging Dealing with hooly-gans as a DM has not posted in about a week or so?

[For future reference, this sort of post should be in the General Discussion thread. To answer your question, Pbartender judges that adventure. Thomas Hobbes has computer problems, as Brother Shatterstone noted on the General Discussion thread.
To everyone, I'd encourage you to read the General Discussion thread regularly. It might contain important information that you'd otherwise miss.]

 

[Xael]

A male gray elf enters the inn, and greets Joe the bartender with a slight nod. He's clad in blueish clothing which is almost completely decorated with the images of lightning and sparks, from his gloves to his fine robe (that has cuts to ease movement). Only his black boots seem to lack the lightning theme. He's carrying a backpack and a miscellaneous gear of other equipment including a longsword and a crossbow hanging from his belt. His long and silvery hair hangs almost waist-length in a ponytail behind him.

He coughs up and nods to the whole room, not to anybody particular. "Good day. Nezrak is my name, and spell-slinging my hobby. If anybody's got a job or the like that needs to be done, I'm available."

Nezrak then turns his attention to getting a drink and finding a table.

OOC: I hate introductions.