[Tavern] Tower's Shard '09

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The Tower's Shard

In Clifftop, a few blocks from the famous Clifftop Adventurer's guild, lies a popular spot called The Tower's Shard. The common street wisdom is that the Tower's Shard is a brewery and inn whose owner was a rich adventurer who died in the Last War and left the establishment to his servant, a warforged named Brews.

Brews, in little need of money, runs the establishment at the behest of his former master. The tavern has loose policies on weapons, wands, and other adventuring gear, which combined with a discount for adventurers who can tell a good tale, makes the Tower's Shard a popular stop for rising adventurers who are low on coin but high on spirit and eager to pursue conversation with other adventurers.

True to his name, Brews is a master brewer, and is widely known for his Grilled Red Herring, and a special mixed drink he calls the McGuffin. Brews quite enjoys listening to tales of adventure, and he is able to sit and listen to adventurers' old war stories for hours on end and remain fascinated, a quality which endears him to the more long-winded sort of adventurers particularly. In return, Brews only asks that each newcomer introduce themselves so that their tale can be remembered by all.

[This thread is closed: New Tavern Thread]
 
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hornedturtle

Visitor
The Past

...(as the train stops.)

The door slides open and out steps 354b. 'Similar yet different,' he thought as he looked around, 'how am i going to find my companions? What if they didn't make it through that weird transition?'

'Such thoughts are futile,' He finally decided, 'If we meed again, we'll meet again.' Having thus decided 354b spots The Tower's Shard, which is surprisingly close.

354b enters The Tower's Shard and sits among the sparsely populated tables to rest a recuperate.
 

Goumindong

Visitor
An eladrin dressed in casual street clothes walks into the bar. he wears a light beard and his curly black hair is cropped slightly above the ears. The man sets his gnarled staff down next to him as he takes a stool. One of his brown eyes follows the forged when he approaches while the other scans the room, it focuses intently on the bartender. "Abijah aches after an ale, would the wondrous wooden man wring one for a wanderer?". As brews complies the second eye scans the rest of the bar and speaks when it lands upon 354b, "mmmm, Today this tavern teems with Thaumaturgy's tidings". The first eye leaves the bartender and fixes itself with the second on 354b. "Would you tell this tired traveler your tale?"

[sblock=Passive Perception 15 should be good enough]A perceptive individual might notice an unusual tatoo that covers Abijah's skull. One familiar with dragonmarks might know that the player is unsure whether he wants it to be a Mark of Detection or an Aberrant Mark of Madness[/sblock]
 
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ukingsken

Visitor
The door opens and closes for the third time in as many minutes and a peculiar warforged enters the Shard. Standing near six and a half feet, with a torso as thick as a full grown tree it is his size as much as his peculiar build that distinguishes him.

Much of his body is composed of what appears to be wood, in dark reds and browns with only his chest, head, and major joints showing any significant amount of metal. Short bull like horns protrude from his temples, framing the typical unblinking eyes of most living constructs.

A giant executioners axe hangs from his back and he wears hide armor stained red. His shoulder strangely bears what appears to be the distinctive swirl of a Sentinel Dragonmark, and his cape proudly displays the Deneith Chimera.

Scanning the room with military efficiency he heads to the corner and seats himself back to the wall observing the rooms occupants. Looking to Brews he grumbles in a voice like stone.

Cleaver d'Deneith, war veteran.

[sblock=ooc] Well finally decided on a character idea, we'll see how it plays out. [/sblock]
 

hornedturtle

Visitor
354b looks up at the eladrin who spoke to him an in an evenly paced voice as if giving a status report, "Designation Experiment 354b. Condition Ok. Departed Facility 283 days ago. Experiment 472s stopped functioning 234 days ago during a cave in. Experiment 890y stopped functioning 202 days ago when we were attacked by kobolds. Reached surface 180 days ago. Arrived in Sharn 20 days ago. Entered tavern 15 days ago from there journeyed with Alton Tealeaf, Raekz Krusst, Kaz Bolod, and Jehennady'aashta on the request of Mornokai Etchstone in responce to a break in of his place of buisness. Yesterday became separated from group and returned to Tavern." Having finished his response 354b waits for further stimulus.
 

Charwoman Gene

Adventurer
A tall, gaunt figure has entered the doors of the Shard. Clad in a long, dark coat, his face shadowed by the wide brimmed hat he wears, Silas Thurgood tries as best he can to sit, and eat, unmolested. He removes his hat, and you see his long rich brown hair is streaked with gray, his faced lined and weathered.

After an unpleasant conversation with the barmaid, he convinces her that he does not want any alcohol, but simply, for now, bread, water and solitude.
 

Vertexx69

Visitor
The tavern doors swing open again to admit a golden skinned cat woman with peircing green eyes. She sports the form fitting hide of a creature who's skin closely matched her own over a very short leather skirt, and a variety of tools hanging from her belt and pack, including a pair of stylized claw katar in crossed sheathes at the back of her waist. A longbow is on her back beneath her pack. She moves like any hunting cat, with a sure footed grace that almost seems like a glide as opposed to the clumsy steps of a biped. Her hard angular features are offputtingly feline and cut of her musclular limbs are very deep. The outer sides of her arms, legs and the back of the neck have dark stripes, and the insides of her limbs fade out to a light sable color. Her dark golden main of hair looks almost red and is pulled back strait from her face into a long ponytail that cascades down over her backpack. The sable tuft at the end of her long, sweeping tail draws the eye up to where it disappears under her skirt.

The huntress moves to the bar, "Meat and a brew, Brews. Rohna is back in town". As she speaks, her overdeveloped canines shine in the flickering torchlight. Flashing a familiar yet dangerous smile at the old warforged she heads over to a table and drops her gear, sliding her sheathes to the sides before she sits down. Her tail pokes out of the back of the chair as she crosses her booted legs, flicking in anticipation of the meal to come. Her large tufted ears seem to move in directions different than her eyes, keeping track of several of the other patrons at the same time.
 

ukingsken

Visitor
How do you intend to survive once you leave the city again wearing that?

Cleaver asks matter of factly, not a single hint of sarcasm creeping into his deep, basso voice as he appraises Rohna's unconventional outfit.
 

Vertexx69

Visitor
The shifter shrugs as her order arrives. "Not all of us work best wrapped in metal friend. I fight better when I can move around a bit more." Rohna tears into the slab of meat in front of her without further comment, only pausing to wash it down occasionally.
 

ukingsken

Visitor
I try to avoid metal when I can. Says Cleaver, indicating his hide armor. However much like your soft skin, the metal components of my body are at best a poor design decision. I could feel the ebb and flow of natures savagery much more clearly were I to replace them with more organic components.

With that statement the glow of his eyes dims momentarily, as if he is no longer truly present in the room, before returning to there normal state.
 

renau1g

Visitor
The door swings open again and a cloaked dark elf walks into the room, his feet falling silently upon the floor, stepping from pad to heel in the traditional drow manner of movement. He carries a small blade and wears a wide-brimmed fashionable hat. Looking at the group he says "Greetings all, Tamarand at your service. I have heard rumours of the place where the drinks are free and the tales are tall, I'm glad to have finally found it." the drow says and walks up to the shifter.

"Greetings m'lady, it's only common courtesy to order the female the first drink. What are you having?" Tamarand asks
 

Vertexx69

Visitor
Rohna drains her tankard and slides it towards the drow with a wickedly fanged grin. "Brews knows what I like, just say its for Rohna stranger." On closer inspection her exposed skin on her upper arms and legs is not golden but coevered in a short, fine fur like that of her hunting cat ancestors.
 

renau1g

Visitor
Tamarand only nods and procures the requisite beverage from the barkeep.

He slides the drink to her before grabbing a seat near her and Cleaver. "I happened to hear your discussion about the benefits of metal armour and I must agree it does nothing but slow me down. Now leather, that's where its at. So what's everyone do for fun around here? Maybe we can toss some daggers?" the drow says, drawing a blade from his belt and flipping it casually end over end, before catching it with the tip of his index and middle fingers and repeating.
 

ukingsken

Visitor
You fleshlings waste so much of your time courting one another. Better to prepare for the next conflict. Nature is struggle, and you must prepare.

Cleavers fast seems almost bemused as he looks back and forth from Tamarand and to Rohna, although it's hard to read any real emotion on his stiff face.
 

Charwoman Gene

Adventurer
In a gravelly voice, Silas intones, "Not all of us are as prey to the temptations of the flesh as others. But, you must forgive the shifter, it can't be easy to fit into moral behavior when the blood of demon's runs through your veins, however diluted it has become."
"That being said, heavy armor is for those without the speed and faith to survive without it's protection. The Flame will not fail me in battle, and I shun such protections as a test of my faith."
 
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renau1g

Visitor
In a gravelly voice, Silas intones, "Not all of us are as prey to the temptations of the flesh as others. But, you must forgive the shifter, it can't be easy to fit into moral behavior when the blood of demon's runs through your veins, however diluted it has become."
"That being said, heavy armor is for those without the speed and faith to survive without it's protection. The Flame will not fail me in battle, and I shun such protections as a test of my faith."
"Now I don't know much about demon's blood and all that, but I must disagree about the pleasures of the flesh. Without it we are nothing more than unfeeling constructs, surely one such as yourself good warforged understands that." Tamarand replies.
 

ukingsken

Visitor
I bear the form nature felt fit to bestow upon me. I am an instrument of war, and when the fury of the wild is upon me ware the tempest it unleashes. While I may not sleep, eat, or even breathe as you do, never doubt that the lifeblood of Eberron flows in my veins. I did not come to lead during the war by failing in battle.

This is the first time Cleaver has exhibited any true emotion. As he speaks his limbs seem to cord and swell as small energy lines beneath the wooden plating flare to life momentarily.
 

renau1g

Visitor
"So you were a veteran of the War? What flag did you fight under?" Tamarand asks, his interest growing
 
Another drow enters the tavern. He wears armor made from the shells of scorpions. A gnarled wooden staff is held in his hands. Tatoos cover his dark skin, white against his dark flesh. Swirling patterns reminicient of clouds and lightning they are, with a dragonmark on his forearm. As he walks to a table, his form shimmers like heat rising from the hots desert sands. His skin is weathered and his white hair is short. He Bringis a rolled cigar to his lips and exhaling the smoke, he says, "Quistorion, though you've probably heard my name mentioned by now. Just a water Brews."
 

Vertexx69

Visitor
The catwoman violently tears a chunk out of her meat, sending a bit of fat or gristle flying across the room to land on Silas' shoulder with a satisfying splat. "I don't know much about demon blood, but I know I ain't got no horns. This town has demon folk and rock folk, metal folk and dragon folk, so why do the humans seem to have so much trouble with dog and cat folk?"
 
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