Tavern Thread: The Hanged Man
- Thread starter L4W Facilitator
- Start date
Balth walks over to Wilment, and bows with a performer's flourish.
Balthariel Landowin Brinjairrand at your service. Balth for short, he says with a slight smile. I wish to be of assistance if you need it.
He eyes the others. I have use of a bow, my arrows are sharp and my tongue is sharper. He grins, accentuating the scar that runs from his jaw up into his hairline.
Do you wish my assistance, or should I make for the docs with the others?
Balthariel Landowin Brinjairrand at your service. Balth for short, he says with a slight smile. I wish to be of assistance if you need it.
He eyes the others. I have use of a bow, my arrows are sharp and my tongue is sharper. He grins, accentuating the scar that runs from his jaw up into his hairline.
Do you wish my assistance, or should I make for the docs with the others?
OOC: Wilment has already left, Thik the party there is pretty established, Follow Larinza to the docks.
JoeNotCharles
First Post
OOC: just post in the Harbourmaster's Office thread to be added to that adventure - we're still setting up, so adding a new char is no problem.
Oni
First Post
The door to the Hanged Man slowly swung open. Croaching in the entryway was a dirty disheveled dwarf who seemed to be inspecting the threshhold with a fierce intensity. Ignoring the room, he pulled something from his belt and made a mark there. Anyone that inspected it more closely would see it was a small spiral. Cackling softly to himself he inspects his own handiwork, satisfied he seems to notice the room for the first time.
Eh?...Can't be too careful, he mutters. Hehehe.
As he stood up he could more easily be seen. A dark bushy tangle of beard and hair framed his guant face. Yellowing teeth, a couple of which were missing, showed through split and cracked lips. Perched above an aquiline nose and below a thick heavy brow stare grey eyes that gleam with strangeness. He wore a tattered grey tunic open to the waist, showing a chest thin by dwarven standards and lean where a silver medallion of a spiraling snake hung from a long leather cord. The tunic was tied at the waist by a rope from which hung numerous old keys, amoung other things. Under the faded tunic was loose, equally ragged brown pants. His feet were wrapped only in dirty old rags. Clutched in his hand the dwarf carried a gnarled wooden staff adorned with more keys tied to it by leather cords.
He moved into the room, the keys jingling softly as he went. Looking up he noticed the sign above the bar.
You charge a high price for entry...
Suddenly he cocked his head as if listening to something far away, eyes growing wide.
Bah...no choice it seems..., he muttered to himself.
Raising his voice he addressed the room. They call me Madiron, Magnus Madiron.....and worse things too. Hehehe. He trailed off into a wheezing cackle.
His introduction out of the way, Magnus stumped across the room to an empty table, staff rhythmically thumping and jingling as he walked. He made a small gesture and one of the chairs with a screeching, scraping sound slid back from the table. With a grunt and a sigh he sat down heavily and looked around the room as though he were searching for something.
[sblock=ooc]
Daunton locals might recognize Magnus as the crazy dwarf occasionally seen wandering the backstreets of the city. He's been around for a while, rumors saying that he lives in a crumpling tower outside of the city where there are strange goings on. More outrageous things too.
[/sblock]
Eh?...Can't be too careful, he mutters. Hehehe.
As he stood up he could more easily be seen. A dark bushy tangle of beard and hair framed his guant face. Yellowing teeth, a couple of which were missing, showed through split and cracked lips. Perched above an aquiline nose and below a thick heavy brow stare grey eyes that gleam with strangeness. He wore a tattered grey tunic open to the waist, showing a chest thin by dwarven standards and lean where a silver medallion of a spiraling snake hung from a long leather cord. The tunic was tied at the waist by a rope from which hung numerous old keys, amoung other things. Under the faded tunic was loose, equally ragged brown pants. His feet were wrapped only in dirty old rags. Clutched in his hand the dwarf carried a gnarled wooden staff adorned with more keys tied to it by leather cords.
He moved into the room, the keys jingling softly as he went. Looking up he noticed the sign above the bar.
You charge a high price for entry...
Suddenly he cocked his head as if listening to something far away, eyes growing wide.
Bah...no choice it seems..., he muttered to himself.
Raising his voice he addressed the room. They call me Madiron, Magnus Madiron.....and worse things too. Hehehe. He trailed off into a wheezing cackle.
His introduction out of the way, Magnus stumped across the room to an empty table, staff rhythmically thumping and jingling as he walked. He made a small gesture and one of the chairs with a screeching, scraping sound slid back from the table. With a grunt and a sigh he sat down heavily and looked around the room as though he were searching for something.
[sblock=ooc]
Daunton locals might recognize Magnus as the crazy dwarf occasionally seen wandering the backstreets of the city. He's been around for a while, rumors saying that he lives in a crumpling tower outside of the city where there are strange goings on. More outrageous things too.
[/sblock]
hafrogman
Adventurer
[IMAGEL]http://img.villagephotos.com/p/2005-11/1104331/TristanAv.jpg[/IMAGEL]As the door swings shut behind the mad dwarf, a hand reaches in from outside to prevent it closing. A quiet Eladrin warrior slips in through the doorway and allows the door to finish closing behind him. He stands silently, watching dispassionately as Magnus attempts to come to grips with reality. With the dwarf's introduction dispensed with, he pauses for a moment and then steps forward. Sketching a brief bow, encompassing all in the room, he offers his name.
"Tristan e'Ransiel. Late of the Imperium."
Local requirments fulfilled, he makes his way to the bar and claims a stool. He props his sheathed blade up next to him and orders a drink.
[Sblock=ooc]Lest I confuse anyone else. Tristan was previously involved in the Closed Eye, but I temporarily left gaming at the same time as Graf left that game.[/sblock]
"Tristan e'Ransiel. Late of the Imperium."
Local requirments fulfilled, he makes his way to the bar and claims a stool. He props his sheathed blade up next to him and orders a drink.
[Sblock=ooc]Lest I confuse anyone else. Tristan was previously involved in the Closed Eye, but I temporarily left gaming at the same time as Graf left that game.[/sblock]
Lord Sessadore
Explorer
[sblock=ooc]
[/sblock]
That's where he's from! I could've sworn Tristan was familiar, but I absolutely could not place him. Of course, he was in the one place I didn't look, haha. Thanks for the explanation.
[/sblock]
Similar Threads
