[Tavern Thread] The Dunn Wright Inn

[Aura]

Charity, Human Female
Feigning a duck and parry from Qalabash's antics, Charity chuckles. She parrots the moves in-miniature, only to be broken out of her animation by Master Shrike's question. The young Venzan woman nods, red locks shifting with her head motion as she pulls the rapier and scabbard from her belt and offers it to Master Shrike. "Sure, have a look-see. I faced this weapon in the hands of a rather nasty rat-man. Darn near killed me with it." She leans back and takes another sip of her drink, thinking aloud. "After the fact, I started to suspect that he used that weapon to keep his own kin in line--they seemed to be resistant to all weapons save for silver. I've been told mithral works like silver in those situations, so it would make sense."

 

[grumblyarcher]

Asch took the hilt gingerly and was still surprised by the lightness of it even though he had been expecting it.
"It's like I'm only holding a hilt," he said with a certain boyish enthusiasm. He gently rapped a knuckle on the flat of the blade. It produced an almost melodious note and held it for far longer than steel could, reverberating slighting. Building an instrument out of this metal would not be too far fetched.

"Hah! You can always tell something is mithral by the sound," giving it a few practice swipes, he stepped away from the bar and performed a textbook perfect, if somewhat slow, thrust with the point of the blade. He was certainly no fencing master but if he applied himself he could potentially learn. Recovering from his thrust, he casually flicked the hilt into the air and caught the weapon by the forte of the blade and handed it back to Charity.

"Thank you. One of my brothers had a mithral greatsword, beautiful thing. He took it everywhere and tried to use it to impress girls. We used to call it the Singing Sword from the sound it made in practice. He hated that name so we used it constantly. My nephew, the twerp, hocked the thing when money got tight. I've always preferred something with some range myself," Asch said, setting his bundle on the bartop and untying the straps at the top and bottom. Inside were a rather simple if well cared for shortbow, a collection of arrows and one truly notable item.

It might have been a fine blade once but that time was long since passed, even sheathed in the scabbard it was clear to see that the weapon had seen much wear and little care. Judging by the length of the sheathed weapon it was more than three forths as tall as Asch was but remarkably thin for such a size and slightly curved.

 

[GlassEye]

Qalabash Baram

[section]

Qalabash gives a hearty belly laugh as Charity plays along with his antics but leans on the bar and watches with interest when she shows Aschwin her mithral sword. It is certainly a fine weapon but not his style and he doesn't even have the vocabulary to praise it properly. However, he does visibly perk up when Aschwin unwraps his weaponry. To Qalabash's untrained eye the bow is just another bow but the sword has character.

"Ah, now there is a weapon with a long history! Both of them, actually." His inclusion of Charity indicates he means the mithral sword and the overly long blade of Aschwin's. "The tales of tragic losses and glorious victories those two blades represent would set an aged tale-teller's head a-spinning. Ahhh!" He slumps into silence but keenly watches the elven warrior curious about the history hinted at in the other's conversation.

​

[/section]

 

[Aura]

Charity, Human Female
Having let Asch have his fun, Charity returned the rapier to it's scabbard. Nodding to Qalabash as he mentions weapons with history, her green eyes perk up. Something is on her mind. "Hunh, yes, a weapon with a long and rich history is a treasure. However, I'm more interested in people's histories. How they got to where they are now, and where they are going next. Ultimately, this," she lifts up the scabbarded blade for emphasis, "Is but a tool... albeit a nice one. I lose it, I can get another. People... are much more unique, much more valuable. So much so, I can't put a price on a person."

With that, the woman returns the scabbard and blade to her belt, and finally concludes. "It churns my stomach that there are those out there who do precisely that--price and sell people. Disgusting." By the time she's done speaking, it's obvious her normally clear alto voice has taken on a gravely nature, and her volume has trailed off to little more than a whisper.

Charity looks up at her two table mates and immediately returns her voice to her normal tone. "Oh, I'm sorry... Anyway, it's a lovely sword, Master Shrike, make sure to take good care of it."

[sblock=Note]One of the things I don't mind seeing is improving a starting weapon under a roleplaying pretext, such as 'I started taking proper care of my sword and this brings out it's Masterwork status.' Just pay the 300 gold and it becomes a neat explanation of how you came across it.[/sblock]

 

[grumblyarcher]

"This sword is not mine," Asch said. Much of the humor dropped out of his voice. This sword was not something he carried out of a bond with it but rather a stubborn sense of irony, "Gods willing, I'll have a chance to return it to its owner, with interest."

Picking the weapon up, he drew it from the scabbard with a single slow motion. It might have been a very fine blade at one time but that time was at least fifty years ago. The hilt had been wrapped and rewrapped in cheap leather strips. Sockets on the cross guard may have once held precious stones of some kind but that time was long since passed and the stones had been pried out at some point for sale. The blade was single-edged, long and gently curved. It looked similar to a long scimitar. The blade looked to be a mix between something meticulously cared for and something thoroughly abused. The edge was ragged and notched in places but clearly sharpened carefully.

"Not such a pretty thing but it works well enough when something gets a little too friendly," Asch said with slightly forced cheer, trying to keep the conversation light despite his baggage.

 

[Aura]

Charity, Human Female
The ginger let a moment pass before speaking. Even in the subdued light of the inn, her green eyes are obviously studying Asch. When she finally spoke, a hint of some vague concern bled through her overtly nonchalance. "Just the same," she begins slowly, "I hope it serves you well. One of my greatest hopes for anyone I see here, is I see them again..." Her voice trails off as she touches the tip of her finger to her lips, then, pulling it away, finishes the thought, "In this lifetime, anyway. Personal convictions regarding the post-death experience, of course, notwithstanding." She takes up her mug once again for a sip, then sets it down not he table, the sound indicating it's still well over half full despite the amount of time she's nursed it.

[sblock=Game Update]Both the games which are being mixed and matched, player wise, for the next run have begun their final encounters, grumbly. Thank you for being patient and hopefully it won't be too long until you are placed.[/sblock]

 

[GlassEye]

Qalabash Baram

[section]

Qalabash raises his mug.

"Hear, hear! To those who walk the long road, may we see them again before their sun sets!" He takes a deep drink from his mug then clunks it down on the bar. He wipes a bit of foam from his mustache with his sleeve and the back of his hand and sighs loudly. "Ah, it is becoming entirely too somber in here. We need a tale, one of derring-do and deeds of honor. Lady Charity, did I hear aright that you took that sword from a rat-man? Surely the circumstances of that deed would make a fine tale. How about it?"

​

[/section]

 

[grumblyarcher]

"I could fill in for the dastardly villain if you'd like," Asch said, pivoting on a foot to and picking up his unstrung shortbow with a free hand. Dancing out into the main floor a bit, he took up an exaggerated fencer's stance with one arm cocked out dramatically and the far end of his bow tracing slow circles in the air in front of him.

"Just promise to keep the sword sheathed, yeah? I rather like keeping things to the number of holes the gods saw fit to mold me with."


[sblock=Games]Not a problem, I got plenty of opportunity to stretch my legs here.[/sblock]

 

[jackslate45]

Aradra Longstrider

[section]

The door creaks open, and in walked a solitary man. His green outfit was well weathered and battle worn, and clearly he needed a new set of clothes. Or at least some tailor needed to fix his outfit. The man seemed to have some sort of armor under his clothing, as bits of metal flash in the holes that are in his armor.

On his head was a metal helmet that was soon removed, revealing a nasty scar over his right eye. The cut looked deep enough to take out his eye, but by some miracle it still seems to be there. His blue eyes blink, taking in the surroundings, and a small smile flits across his face. His hair was cut short and neat, and his face looked like it had been recently shaven. In his left hand was what appeared to be a green tinted bow, but it was quickly put away in his quiver over his back.

Approaching the bar, the bar tender looked over at him and says "Oy, Arrdra! Bout time ya showed back up." Grog squints at the man approaching the bar and asks "Da fook happn' to ya? Ya look like ya been ta Hell n back"


Arrdra's smile clearly did not reach his eyes when he responded back. "Something like that. Give me a whiskey Grog. " he added quickly, before Grog had a chance to inquire more.

The man looked around, and saw 3 faces; One was a red-haired girl he thought he saw when a whore showed up at the bar some time ago, but did not know her name. The other two he did not recognize, but he nodded at all 3 of them, and pointed to one of the empty seats near where they were sitting. "Mind if I sit there?"
​

[/section]

 

[Aura]

Charity, Human Female
The woman at the table nods and gestures to several empty chairs, subconsciously clearing a rogue lock of hair from in front of her eyes and laying it back with the rest of her unruly hair. "Please, have a seat. You look as if you could use a little time without having to be on guard, so to speak." Her eyes traveling from the newcomer to his whiskey and back to him, and she continues, "I am Charity. And I have just met these two interesting gentlemen right here," she gestures to the two men already seated at the table, purposely pausing to give others a chance to speak.