[Tavern] Tower's Shard 2010

[twilsemail]

[SBLOCK=OOC]

I completely miss Ryda question, even when raise again by other...

Maybe I should give you my status message... [/SBLOCK]

 

[LadyLaw]

"Well, I wasn't really thinking in terms of trying to hunt us," this thought makes her look even more nervous. "I was more thinking that maybe this forest had a group of protectors like I was at home. If he was hunting them, that would be a problem. It also might mean they'd create a problem for us."

As others begin getting up to leave, she agrees that they should meet again in the morning and retires to her room, wondering what this new adventure will be like. She hopes that she will be of more use than simply as a field medic. She has this nagging feeling that the reason she's out here is bigger than that.

 

[Antithetist]

Jarren sits on a little after most of the group have departed, nursing another ale and chatting to whoever might be left before eventually turning in.

 

[evilbob]

“I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? We all get our souls devoured by a crazed undead and forced to walk the land a decayed husk bent on rending the flesh from the living?”

After a beat, Unit 16 replies, "Yes. Yes, that is the worst that could happen."

As the others disperse, he goes to catch up with Ryda and do some shopping as well.

[sblock=cash]I'm not really sure what the cash is for, but I am completely cool with Son of Meepo paying for a ritual out of the party funds. I am a strong believer in the idea of "rituals are party treasure" and not individual treasure.

See you in the thread![/sblock]

 

[evilbob]

Another longtooth shifter walks into the tavern, although this one seems completely unlike the others who have come through recently. Dressed extremely well in expensive, fitted garments, he sports a well-groomed look and an intelligent face. Across his back is a large glaive with a wicked-looking hook and several barbs. A slight crackle can be heard from the tip as it scrapes the ground across the tavern door threshold.

Gazing around, a slightly disappointed look crosses his face. Seeing the tavern rules, he offhandedly remarks, "Gark."

He wanders over to the bar and drops no small amount of coin, and then proceeds to wait for a drink.

 

[pathfinderq1]

The woman with the fancy hat and even fancier armor (or depending on one's priorities, the fancy armor and even fancier hat) sipped from her wineglass as she looked the place over more carefully. She looked a bit wistfully as the adventuring party concluded their business and began to filter out of the room, but she made no move to approach them.

Once most of them had left, and the room was quite nearly empty, she reached under her cloak and produced a copy of the latest issue of the Inquisitive. Unfolding the news-sheet she began to read- as the well-dressed shifter made his entry she lowered the paper long enough to look him over. At first a frown creased her face, and it seemed as if she might reach for the blade at her hip- but the moment of anger passed as she realized that he was, in fact, a shifter and not one of the fuzzy-monster races. In a moment, her smile returned and she went back to her reading (and, of course, to her glass of wine).

 

[hornedturtle]

In from a back hallway walks a large warforged, that looks more hewn from bedrock than made in any forge, with green veins of crystal running through his plating and, along with his green eyes, glowing with a odd inner power. Over this he wears a simple cloak with the hood drawn back. He scans the room in mechanical fashion then stands in a back corner occasionally looking around the room.

 

[nerdytenor]

A tall half-elf enters, a well-worn smile on his face. He is tall and annoyingly handsome, with wavy blond hair and blue eyes. His manner is friendly and more than a bit mischievous. He carries a greatspear as tall as a man, and the glint of chainmail can be seen peeking out from a few holes in his overcloak.

"Greetings, friends!" he proclaims to no-one in particular. It is clear from the reactions of the others here that none yet count him friend. Yet the greeting is clearly sincere.

"I am Acre, at your service." He places the palm of his right hand on his chest, and makes a small bow.

 

[evilbob]

Gark looks up from his drink with a sort of sarcastic half-smile, amused that this stranger would be so friendly to those he did not know. "If you are at our service, then come and tell us a bit of your exploits," he offers. Without getting up, he motions to the seat next to him at the bar.

Motioning around the bar, he adds, "As you can see there aren't many of us here to listen, but favors change."

 

[nerdytenor]

"If you are at our service, then come and tell us a bit of your exploits," he offers. Without getting up, he motions to the seat next to him at the bar.

Acre grins at the invitation and sits down next to the finely-attired shifter. He sets his spear against a wall, its deadly-serious purpose in marked contrast to its owner.

"I don't see many of my exploits here, if you catch my drift," Acre says in a conspiratorial tone, motioning around them. "Unless any of these gentlemen happen to go by the name of Jenny, Rachel, or Samantha."

"What of you, Gark, is it? What brings you here?"