The sun has been shining bright for a couple of hours outside the Shard when a strange voice can be heard, but not understood, coming from just the other side of the doors. A tall, impossibly thin being stumbles in through the saloon doors as if somebody pushed him from outside. He has deep brown skin with some sort of pattern on it, and a huge clump of what you guess might be hair on his head like a two foot-wide ball of tiny black leaves. His eyes are large, non reflective black pools that draw you into them like the darkness down a well. His legs are back bent like some animals ending in a pair of bare, three taloned feet, with toes splayed wide for balance. He wears a tattered hide vest and breeches that have seen far better days, with what might be a stone flute tucked into a sash and a dirty pack. He carries nothing else other than a flimsy wooden walking stick, nearly as thin as him. "Neow wait jus' a seconde thayr yuh..." and he walks back out without a look to those sitting in the establishment.
There is a sound like a hard slap from outside, and he comes tripping back in through the doors. He starts falling forward, into what is sure to be a legendary faceplant, but shatters into hundreds of tiny creatures instead. Every creature anyone in Sharn has ever encountered in a swarm form is represented as the pile surges and sways. The swarm looks as if it might start to disperse, but then pulls itself into a roughly humanoid form and stands up. The individual beasts melt together and the solid, once more wooden humanoid shape of the man stands before everyone. He looks around and grins sheepishly as he dusts himself off and looks back out the swinging, saloon doors. "A tousand apologies miss, dis seem tuh bee dee place iree. Please do be commin' in den." A woman the size of a smallish housecat steps under the still swinging doors with a look of righteous indignation on her beatiful, if tiny face. She has long black hair that hangs half way down her back and flawless red skin. She has a little pair of horns sticking out of her forehead, a set of full bat-like wings and a slender, prehensile tail that is flaired at the end.
She lifts off the ground, flying strait at the treeman's face where she stops, hovering and begins to verbally abuse him. Everyone else hears only clicks, whispers and squeaks, but it is obvious he understands it as his already huge eyes get wider still. "Yah be kissin yur owm mudder wit dat mout oh yurs? Why yuh aught tuh be ashamed yurself truely den." The tiny devil woman holds her ground a moment then backs down, throwing her little arms around his narrow chest, she begins sobbing. "Neow don cha bee startin wit duh fireworks againe you. Aye be deaf tuh yur petty teatrics, so yuh might as waell jus be stoppin em right neow den." She pulls her head off his chest where little motes of fire stream down her cheeks leaving identical singe marks on his wooden body where she threw her face. She smirks in defeat and flits up to sit daintily on his shoulder, crossing her legs seductively as she stares at one of the other patrons, her long tail wraps itself under the treeman's armpit for security.
He walks up to the bar in long, loping steps, Brews is playing it stonefaced as usual. "What types oh wata yuh be servin in dis 'ere pleace neow?" The warforged bartender would look quite confused if it weren't beyond his range of expressible emotion (that being none). There are several clicks and whirs inside the automaton's head before his eyes refocus. "Ah yes, right away then." He slides an ale across the bar to the strange being. "Iree den, yuh have me tanks ... sir? I an I bein called Karananak Bole. Are soemtime dee peepoles be callin me Swamwispa." (Swarmwhisper) He takes a sip of the drink and almost spills it as he is jabbed in the ribs by by his tiny companion. He slaps his forehead and produces a shotglass sized mug with a handle from his pack and fills it from his drink. "An dis 'ere tiny 'ellcat be Eve. She be me monkey, I be huh tree." Brews usually keeps to himslef but blurts out. "And what are yo...what brings you to the city?" Ale comes out Eve's nose she laughs so hard when the warforged asks him flat out what he is. She squeaks and twitters to Karananak. Whatever she says ammuses him as he takes another sip of ale.
He gives the bartender a slight bow. "I an I bein called a Wilden. Me peoples be comin from dee Feywild. Some dock powa been ripplin trough dee 'wild' so dee wilden bee takin a peek into dis 'ere wurld oh yurs. We be tryin tuh see where dis 'ere ripplin be comin frome." Brews shoves a thumb at the various adventurers lounging about the Shard. "So are they. It might take a bit, but people come here looking for adventurers all the time." Eve dips her cup into Karananak's again and drains it. He looks a bit annoyed and as she goes toward his cup again the druid puckers up his woody lips and blows her apart like she was made of ash.
I wonder if I might ask a favor of you. I am horrible at reading accents - for whatever reason, my brain just doesn't work that way. I think they're certainly appropriate and add flavor, but could I ask you to include a sort of "translation" for what you said in an sblock below? It would help me out a ton. If it's too much trouble, that's cool, too.[/sblock]
