[Closed] Briarbeard Tavern (Vaul) - II

[Enoch]

The halfling sings softly to himself, tentatively, as he plucks at the strings of his fiddle, the bow still tucked under his arm:

"'Of ebbing cold and easing chill
Come now and let us sing
Of frozen snow'...no...
'Of thawing ground and winter’s ill
Come now and join the Harrowing!'"


He nods to himself as he finishes the stanza. "Yes, I think that will work for a beginning. A very fine beginning, indeed."

[Scott308]

Dorvar hears Halfred plucking the strings of his fiddle, and has a request for him. Heee, li'l man! Shing us a song, youuuuu a shinger? and looks at him expectantly.

Turning back to the competition, he slurs, Iz my turm agen? I'ma win thish conshest, wash mee!

[OGRE MAGE]

After a long morning of meeting and shopping, Wendall heads to the tavern to find his friends.

Oh great! It's not yet midday and half of my party is completely trashed? A fine lot I've joined up with indeed!

Master Ghrym.......I see you have made a small fortune already today with all of these drunkards you've got in here. How about setting up a tall glass for Wendall the Milk-a-holic?

Wendall searches the barroom to see who seems to be winning and if any of his friends can still see.

[Zorroroaster]

Orrin looks at the Halfling appreciatively, and gently sets down his empty tankard. His head tilts almost imperceptively towards the music being made and he remains quiet for a time. When the Halfling pauses, he raises his voice to him.

"You've some skill there, lad. I'm good for three things. Fightin', drinkin', and mournin' the dead. Sometimes all at once. Be content that you're good at something that brings folks some measure of peace, not more pain."

After a moment, he remembers himself and slams the bar with his massively scarred hands.

"Arghh! You damned Southerners and your weepy ales that make us cry like lost babies! What I wouldn't give for a spicy Dwarven brew, strong enough to set yer whiskers on fire!"

When he sees the newcomer enter the bar and speak so easily with Ghrym, he elbows the drinker next to him and mutters.

"Who's this, now? For some reason I don't like his face."

[Keehnelf]

Ghrym winks at Orrin and produces a small red-tinted glass bottle, pouring a tiny measure into the bottom of a glass. "This is my grandpa's mourning whiskey, as we called it. Good for mourning a lost friend, or causing mourning when you realize what you've been up to the next morning." He slides it across the bar to Orrin.

[Zorroroaster]

Orrin raises the small glass to his nose and tentatively inhales. He raises an eyebrow and grunts with satisfaction.

"Now that's more like it. You're a good man, Ghrym. A good man."

He raises the glass in a silent toast and then sips the whiskey with relish, savouring it and relaxing into his chair.

Normal Drink (CON 16): [1d20] = 13
Drink Delay Time: [1d3] = 2

[OGRE MAGE]

Once again Wendall feels completly ignored and dejected as the bartender passes him by to serve another customer. And another dwarf no less?

Yoo hoo! Ghrym! A little milk here please? And, I don't suppose you've got anything good to read back there? This competition bores me so far.

[Keehnelf]

Sorry, I assumed the milk was served since I didn't have extra flavor to add

"No reading material, I'm afraid. Just the menu!"

[AleBelly]

When he sees the newcomer enter the bar and speak so easily with Ghrym, he elbows the drinker next to him and mutters.

"Who's this, now? For some reason I don't like his face."

"Heyyyyy" overhears Varas. "Thash my fren' Wendie! Heesh a good guy...well...he triesh. Got that bump on hish noggin' tryin' a' help ush out. Get over here, Wendie. Shay high to the dwarvvv [hic] wiv the biggesht liver in Vaul..."

With that, he tries to down his tenth ale, drinking it at normal pace.

Normal drink (4) [1d20] = 12

Extra time [4d3] = 8

He just makes it, in 18 minutes. He upends the cup over his head, and just a single drop hits his tongue. He then manages to close his eyes, lean back and touch his nose with a flourish.

Save vs non magical poison (14) [1d20] = 19

That ale didn't seem to bother him at all!

"Woo-hoo! Ten aylsh!" he cries as he dances a jig.

[Keehnelf]

Martin only takes half the time with his 0 roll on his drink--so a total of 10 minutes instead of the 19 it would have taken with his delay roll.

Dorvar, on the other hand, has rolled two 20s for saves vs. poison during this contest, suggesting that he is naturally immune to the major damaging effects of ale. No more poison saves needed in the future.

Also, I have him pegged at 12 total successful drinks, not 11 at the end.

I've added the math back in as necessary, but anyone with 10 current drinks or more who is still in the competition has a +2 penalty on CON checks due to massive fullness.

Drinker Status:

Varas - Drinking
Drinks Counted: 10
CON: 4
Delay Time: 4d3
Elapsed Time: 2 hours, 48 minutes

Valorei - Drinking
Drinks Counted: 8
CON: 7
Delay Time: 4d3
Elapsed Time: 1 hour, 26 minutes

Martin - Drinking
Drinks Counted: 9
CON: 12
Delay Time: 2d3
Elapsed Time: 1 hour, 13 minutes

Orrin - Drinking
Drinks Counted: 11
CON: 16
Delay Time: 1d3
Elapsed Time: 1 hour, 39 minutes

Kennit - Drinking
Drinks Counted: 9
CON: 14
Delay Time: 3d3
Elapsed Time: 1 hour, 51 minutes

Halfred - Sleeping
Drinks Counted: 2
CON: 6
Delay Time: 3d3
Elapsed Time: 32 minutes

Olympia - Spectating
Drinks Counted: 4
CON: 9
Delay Time: 4d3
Elapsed Time: 1 hour, 7 minutes

Dorvar - Spectating
Drinks Counted: 12
CON: 11
Delay Time: 7d3
Elapsed Time: 2 hours, 38 minutes

[KingOfCowards]

Kennit shows his appreciation for the halfling music and raises a mug as a toast.
CON Check (14): [1d20] = 5
Delay Time: [3d3] = 6

He spots Dorvar at the end of the bar, succumbing to the effects of the strong drink. "Heez naught dead, rite?"
CON Check 10+ drinks (14): [1d20+2] = 17+2 = 19
Delay Time: [4d3] = 6
Save vs. poison (8): [1d20] = 6
CON Loss: [1d3] = 1

He looks at his hand strangely, flexing his fingers which he seems to have lost feeling in.

Kennit - Drinking
Drinks Counted: 11
CON: 13
Delay Time: 4d3
Elapsed Time: 2 hours, 23 minutes

[Zorroroaster]

A sudden realization washes over Orrin.

"Wendie? As in Wendall? THE Wendall?"

Before anyone understands what's happening, Orrin grabs Wendall and throws him roughly into a chair. He clamps one hand over the boy's mouth and grabs both his wrists with the other, gripping hard. He presses his face in towards Wendall and lets a ragged growl escape his throat.

"Listen here, whelp. There'll be no Mage tricks outta you while I'm holding you close, so stop squirming and keep yer shitty ears wide open. I should snap yer scrawny neck like a baby bird's right bloody now, but I'm a lawful man and I'm among friends.

A couple days back I lost a friend out at yer wretched tower. He was burned alive by some fool trap you set on the front door, when all he wanted was to get in out of the cold. To save one of our own, who was lying unconscious while we were being hunted by who knows what. He died out on the moor for nothing, and as far as I can tell, it's your fault.

You have to answer for Lars. You, and you alone.

Now, I've had a couple of drinks, so this'll have to wait until I'm sober enough to hear you good and proper but I'd suggest you find somewhere else to lie low. Just pray you don't run into Lug. He was Lars' friend too, and I doubt he'll be as charitable to you. Go."

Orrin lets go of the boy and starts to turn back to the bar. Then he stops, turns back to Wendall and punches him in the teeth without warning.

"That felt good. Now, get lost."

[KingOfCowards]

[Zorroroaster]

Orrin stalks back to the bar, and mumbles an apology to Ghrym.

"Sorry for the outburst, but that needed saying. I won't cause any more trouble for you here. I think I'd like another drink."

Normal drink (10+) (CON 16): [1d20+2] = 4+2 = 6
Drink Delay Time: [1d3] = 3

[OGRE MAGE]

A sudden realization washes over Orrin.

"Wendie? As in Wendall? THE Wendall?"

Before anyone understands what's happening, Orrin grabs Wendall and throws him roughly into a chair. He clamps one hand over the boy's mouth and grabs both his wrists with the other, gripping hard. He presses his face in towards Wendall and lets a ragged growl escape his throat.

"Listen here, whelp. There'll be no Mage tricks outta you while I'm holding you close, so stop squirming and keep yer shitty ears wide open. I should snap yer scrawny neck like a baby bird's right bloody now, but I'm a lawful man and I'm among friends.

A couple days back I lost a friend out at yer wretched tower. He was burned alive by some fool trap you set on the front door, when all he wanted was to get in out of the cold. To save one of our own, who was lying unconscious while we were being hunted by who knows what. He died out on the moor for nothing, and as far as I can tell, it's your fault.

You have to answer for Lars. You, and you alone.

Now, I've had a couple of drinks, so this'll have to wait until I'm sober enough to hear you good and proper but I'd suggest you find somewhere else to lie low. Just pray you don't run into Lug. He was Lars' friend too, and I doubt he'll be as charitable to you. Go."

Orrin lets go of the boy and starts to turn back to the bar. Then he stops, turns back to Wendall and punches him in the teeth without warning.

"That felt good. Now, get lost."

I will go along with this if the DM says so but......

I would think that, to do ALL of that against a SOBER Wendall with a 17 Dex, especially coming from someone who was drinking all day, MIGHT require more than you just SAYING it?

No rolls necessary for ALL of those actions? No backup from Wendall's so called "friends"?

I realize he's got it coming (in your opinion) but total humiliation with zero chance of retaliation seems a bit much.

[Zorroroaster]

It's just role playing, man. He's not actually "attacking" you. How would you expect him to behave given the circumstances? In this timeline, it's literally only a day or so since he watched his friend get incinerated. I think he's being pretty reasonable.

Besides, who knows... Maybe he and Wendall will end up friends in the end?

[Mister-Kent]

Olympia rushes to Wendall's side, her reaction time slowed by the alcohol. "You okay, little mage? What was he on about?"

[OGRE MAGE]

It's just role playing, man. He's not actually "attacking" you. How would you expect him to behave given the circumstances? In this timeline, it's literally only a day or so since he watched his friend get incinerated. I think he's being pretty reasonable.

Besides, who knows... Maybe he and Wendall will end up friends in the end?

Yes man! I love the role playing. I just thought there might need to be a grappling or overbearing roll to do all those actions. And....... I believe punching someone IS attacking them. As I said, I will leave that up to the DM.

[Enoch]

Halfred looks up in alarm at the scuffle, laying his hand across the strings of his fiddle, stilling and silencing them. "Well! That's certainly some excitement, and no mistake!"

A few moments after the commotion dies down, he turns toward Orrin and offers him a shaky smile, his eyes darting between him and Wendall. "I don't know much about fighting; though I suppose if I'm to make my way out here so far from my smial I shall simply have to learn. Say! You seem a sturdy enough fellow; and you're not so much taller than me. Perhaps you could give me a few pointers? I should hate to end up on a goblin's barbecue."

He pauses to take a sip of his latest drink--water, this time. "I think I showed last night that perhaps drinking competitively is not something I shall ever excel at; though I do enjoy a good mug of ale. As for mourning, knock on wood--" He pauses to rap his diminutive knuckles on the bar-top. "I've only really lost my great-aunt Petunia, and she had lived for--well; many, many years. Though this does seem a hard sort of place; the sort where a fellow might lose a friend if one isn't careful."

Turning to the drunken Dorvar, he smiles; a slow blush creeps into his cheeks. "Well! I don't know about all that; I sing, but I'm not a singer, if you take my meaning. I do like to fiddle a bit. I was working on a song for Harrowing. It's not done yet, but I think I have a melody down. If you wish, I'll sing a bit for you."

With that, he takes the bow out from under his arm, draws it across the strings experimentally, and begins to sing:

"Of ebbing cold and easing chill
Come now and let us sing
Of thawing ground and winter’s ill
Come now and join the Harrowing!

Join us now to plant at dawn
Digging, planting, furrowing
Come, hearty men, and lend your brawn
Come now and join the Harrowing!

Renewed shall all our friendships be
When now we watch for coming Spring
For blooming flower and budding tree
Come now and join the Harrowing!

While children build the wicker-men
We’ll eat and dance and sing
Let go of all that Winter’s been
Come now and join the Harrowing!'"


The halfling lowers his fiddle and smiles hopefully at the crowd.

[AleBelly]

bar fight!

As quickly as he can react, Varas will grapple with Orrin to release Wendall...for three reasons.

1. Wendall's his buddy
2. He's jealous that Orrin is beating him in the contest.
3. He's disrupting his drinking contest!

His weapons remain sheathed unless others draw theirs. I'll wait to see how Keehnelf wants to adjudicate.