Rp Gaming Thread I

[Shonuff]

You spot a large sign placard hanging high above Gate Street. The sign has a age and faded image of a green dragon with a burnt blackened head, with a Halfling in front of him, pointing a smoking wand at him. It reads: THE BLACKENED DRAGON TAVERN & ALEHOUSE.

"Spiders Spin No Webs Within" is carved into the frame of the door above the entrance to the Tavern.

You walk in to a three floored structure that is larger than most buildings on the block. The brightly lit taproom is 40' wide and 70' deep. The bar sits on the right side of the entrance. The walls are hewn wood, covered with a newly applied plaster. The dark wood and bright plaster give a nice contrast behind all the trophies and items adorning the walls. Swords, shields, stuffed minotaur heads, and even a stuffed goblin hang on the wall. Each has a small plaque hanging nearby to describe each near-museum piece.

Behind the bar is a large, raven-haired man with an eyepatch. A nasty old scar runs from his hairline, through the eye area, and down to his chin. His right shoulder has a large protrusion hidden beneath his frock tunic. He wears a leather apron and often is seen cleaning a glass with a rag. On the end of the bar, closest to the door is a hulking greyish half ogre hunched over the bar. on his back are a pair of steel studded clubs hanging within arms reach. Him and the bartender often talk back and forth to each other, while both watch over the taproom. behind the bar on the wall is a large painting of the bartender and the half-ogre in full combat armor, standing atop what looks like a pile of green snake men.

The left wall of the taproom holds a staircase up and two doors under the stairs. He back wall has a large stage in the back, along with the entrance to the kitchen. On stage is a female playing a harp, and singing a solemn melody while playing. Most in the tavern are ignoring her and drinking and celebrating.

Tonight, the tavern is busy. from your spot at the door, you cannot find any empty table save for one, that someone is sitting in a chair ,but facing another table. There is a few solo spots at the bar, (one being right beside the half-ogre)

The barkeep eye you (hehe) and nods curtly to you, watching to see where you head.

[NJWilliam]

Having asked around and stopped by a store selling goods from the Jade Isles, Trarth adjusts his garb to fit more closely to the locals, and enters THE BLACKENED DRAGON. With an acknowledging nod back to the barkeep, he heads to the solo spot nearest the barkeep, turning his head a bit to take in the surroundings on his way there.

(On his way to the barkeep Trarth attempts to observe what most of the patrons are drinking and will order an ale from the barkeep, leaving a generous, but not exorbitant tip. If he doesn't know or cannot determine what local custom for tipping is, he will tip 25%. Trarth will also look around for anyone who appears to be from his homeland or who appears to not be local.)

[Endeavor]

As Arjiri approaches the Blackened Dragon, she lets out a barely audible laugh at the sight of the sign. Humored by the whimsy of it and all at once envious of the impish halfling's wand, she straightens out her leather armor (Spring Festival or not, she'll not be traipsing round Gothmoor painted-up like a harlot in a flouncy dress with no undergarments to speak of...) and pulls her baldric back across her chest which pushes her flail and holster to the back of her body, leaving it completely concealed by her cloak.

A patron passes her by and enters the establishment, quickly revealing in a sliver that the interior is indeed as large as the building exterior looks, and quite lavishly adorned.

'This should be entertaining...' she thinks to herself, as she smirks, swings the door open, and sallies within.

Greeted by one of the largest tap rooms she has ever entered, she silently marvels at the work put into the detail of the tavern, and feeling its history in her bones, she wonders how many adventurers and citizens alike have passed through this place on their way to somewhere else...

The smell of yeasty ale begins to tickle her nosehairs and she makes her way over to the bar. She greets the scarred man with a nod and throws a gold piece onto the bar. "Ale, Grandfather, for a delicate lass!" She says in her deepest throaty voice then winks at him sarcastically. She then notices the hulking gray giant (bouncer) at the end of the bar and raises her foamy glass to him before putting it to her lips and looking around. After a quick visual survey of the bar scene around the taproom, her eyes dart back to the half-ogre. Evaluating his size, his clubs, and then the painting on the wall she thinks: 'Now thats what I call a male!' and with a practiced ease she saunters on down to the empty spot next to him and chats him up.

She is at least partially glad she doesnt have to prosyletize during this fortnight of respite from her Temple.

[player edited for syntax and clarity]

[Computer +1]

Drawn by the noise from downstairs, Simmon heads down from his room to enjoy a celebratory drink. He is quite pleased to have a few weeks off from his intensive studies and thinks he deserves a bit of fun this evening. After all he is destined for great fortune, why shouldn't he celebrate?

Seeing the large crowd he inwardly groans wishing he was a bit closer with some of his fellow cadets so that he had a better destination in mind. He especially wishes he was better friends with the more affluent of his classmates. "There is always an opportunity to advance" is the motto that plays through his mind. He dreams of attending the finest of parties where he meets his future bride, a beautiful large-breasted daughter of a wealthy noble who only has eyes for Simmon, as he saunters over to the bar and takes a seat at an open stool.

A drink my good man and one for yourself! He calls to the barman. And I shall not forget your companion, to his health as well! He says with a friendly gesture to the large half orc.

As the bartender gets closer Simmon says in a more quiet voice. I may be staying for a bit longer than I first anticipated. Is there any problem with room availablility? Perhaps we could discuss a lower rate for a extended stay? He says with a smile.

[Stonjuz]

“You want how much for this old scratched-up Fendermiester? For that amount, I would expect it to be no less than last year’s model and this, my friend is neither new, nor antique. If you can’t come down any further than that, good sir, I shall guess I must take my leave. I can offer you the six for its fair value, and I will tune the others here for you, an hour’s work, and that repair table there, I can organize. Perhaps the chores, and the six gold for your kindness and the lute.” Evan’s irresistible smile and good nature prevails as he prepares to leave the shop with the instrument. “Oh, and another five silver for the shoulder strap, the one with the painted eyes.”
Evan’s first real roadhouse experience!
Sure he had seen his share of whiskey bars, and has played in a lot worst places then this, but the acoustics of the room surrender the feel of Bardic stories from over the years, nailed into even the woodwork. The pre-pulled coin in his hand is itching to tip back a sample of big-city hootch from the bar and he will begin to step in.
Evan, scanning his memory, ‘That melody from the stage, it is an old one’, he begins to hum the lower harmony accompaniment.
At the peak of the singer’s crescendo, he will try to catch her eye and slightly bow his head in respect, as he walks past.
With eye contact to the bartender, Evan motions for the whiskey shelf. Off the shoulder of the half-ogre at the bar, he remains standing at the end of the counter, as the drink is presented. Evan signals for two-fingers full. Sliding the gold piece to the proprietor, he motions for the remainder of the bottle, tasting that the blend is at least better than some. Our young bard walks to the chalkboard and puts his first name, in Gothmyran , a custom for a musician hoping to perform this day, and turns to applaud as the lovely singer finishes the tune.
As he returns to the bar, he notices Arjiri, looking this way (at the bouncer). 'She's may be the type mother warned you about.' But his attention quickly turns once again to the bartender as talk of room availability is discussed, and Evan tries to listen intently.

[Shonuff]

Hegryn spits into a stein and begins to wipe it with his rag as he watches Trarth pause inside the door. He watches Trarth walk up to the bar, order an Ale and pours the young man a dark bitter stout. He put the mug he spit into behind him on the counter, not mixing it with actual drinking mugs. He sniffs loudly and looks Trarth up and down a bit before speaking in a low rumbling voice.

"Ye look new to tha 'moor. You here for the Festival or just passin' through?"

He tosses a thick cardboard type board in front of you. on it is a menu, with faded colors and images, but very legible writing. the menu sits in front of you, Hegryn's way of offering you something from the kitchen.

"Tha duck is past it's prime, but tha turtle soup is fresh. Caught this week and killed this morning. Served in tha shell, with biscuits."

He looks and watches as an attractive young female in leathers sits between Trarth and the Half-ogre.

Skuzz turns from his enormous mug of ale and spies the female sitting down. his eyes squint a bit trying to figure her out. He throws a glance at Hegryn and then back at the door. Hegryn hears Arjiri's order and hands her her drink. He picks his spit-upon mug up and begins to reshine it. Skuzz turns to Arjiri and tips his mug her way in a toast, but his eyes turn quickly to the taproom, watching a particularly rowdy group of dwarves and gnomes in the far corner near the stairs. Skuzz speaks to her but keeps his eyes on the dwarven table.

"You come from temple or outside de 'moor?" His accent and voice sound like a dead body being drug through gravel.

(roll observation, Arjiri)

Hegryn walks down to the third seat open, two spots away from Trarth. He nods to Simmon and puts the spitshined mug down, and pours him a stout and nods to Simmon, listening to him. hegryn picks the mug back up and continues to shine it as he replies in his low rumbling voice.

"Aye. Ye can stay as long as yer coins hold out. I dinnae' make anyone move out for more coin. Not even for tha' Shadow King 'imself."

Hegryn sort of squints to Simmon and pats his shoulder with the hand holding the spit-riddled rag. Hegryn then reaches down and tosses him a cardboard thick piece of board, with the menu painted and carved into it.

"Ye Hungry?"


Hegryn turns and walks back to the other end of the bar, between Arjiri and the bouncer to see Evan poking through. He slides the man the glass of "Wetwood Whiskey". He pauses and then slides the man the rest of the bottle after picking up the man's coin and inspecting it. Hegryn puts the coin in his leather apron pocket and nods towards the stairs.

"Another of those gold'll give ya a clean and secure room alone fer a tenday. Five silver more'll keep ya dry and warm fer a fortnight."

[Computer +1]

Simmon drains half the stout in one go and smacks his lips together to savor the aftertaste as he puts the mug on the bar.
Indeed I am famished. Bring me a cut of meat and fresh bread if you have it.
The noise from the group of dwarves and gnomes causes Simmon to turn his eye that direction. He looks for a moment before turning his attention back to Hegryn.
So shall we discuss ancient military history or the adventure behind the painting behind you?

[NJWilliam]

Trarth takes a drink from his stout and replies to Hegryn with a bit of a shrug,

"Not on my way out in any hurry. A bit of the festival looks interesting enough."

His glance at the menu board ends when Hegryn recommends the soup, Trarth then pushes the menu a bit away from him, and continues,

"The turtle soup for sure, then. Any rooms to be had?"

Trarth turns to look at the rowdy dwarves and gnomes, glancing at Arjiri and the half-ogre as he does, and listening for what those next to him may be saying.
He absentmindedly cracks his thumbs as he sizes up the dwarves, the gnomes, and the reason for the commotion.

[Rotten]

Believing his altercation with the Noble and his subsequent firing from his job was actually a good sign from the Gods, Murdock gathers his belongings and heads to The Blackened Dragon tavern to meet up with Hegryn and find out if the old barkeep was right about finding his fortune tonight. That old man has had to have developed some good intuition along the way. There is more to him than just a barkeep. Barkeeps don't usually keep the company of a half-ogre.

Having no steady income, he stops along the way to the tavern to grab a few bits of fruit and vegetables to stow in his backpack. He's hoping to find a room tonight at the Inn, but if none are available, he doesn't want to go hungry.

The Festival of Light seems to be quite a celebration. The women are dressed so scrumptiously. After some investigation at the tavern, he has some certain activities in mind.

He strolls into the crowded tavern, looking for Hegryn. Seeing only a couple of barstools left, he scans the room after entering through the doorway a few feet, trying to be subtle about it. After taking in the scene, he heads straight to the bar stool.

"Hail Hegryn, Skuzz. I come to celebrate the Festival of Light at my favorite tavern. To the Renewal. Always heed the words of one wiser than yourself, my father always said. I would like a menu sir and if you have any rooms available tonight, I would like your cheapest."

He'll order whatever is recommended (the Turtle soup) and a root tea. No drinking tonight, not yet anyway. He'll greet the people sitting next to him with a quiet nod and smile.

[Shonuff]

Hegryn grins and gives a "welcome' nod to Murdock, seeing the warrior return to the Tavern. Two of the citizens at the bar get up and free the two remaining barstools between Simmon and Arjiri. Hegryn hands Murdock hands the man a menu even before Murdock asks. Hegryn had always had a gift for knowing what people want before they even sat down. He takes Murdock's order and the rest of the orders, and waves over a small elven boy. His face has a bright red tattoo on the left side, from the temple to his inner ear. The boy takes the order and runs off behind the bar, into the back of the tavern, slipping behind the kitchen door. hot water is poured and served to Murdock with a small bowl of cut and chopped lemon and ginger root, and a steeping spoon.

Arjiri, you notice a thick, old scar running across the throat of Skuzz, the half-ogre. It must explain why his voice sounds like rocks falling down a dry leaf-covered hill in a cemetery. Skuzz turns to you and speaks again gruffly.

"pardon, miss."

Skuzz gets up from his groaning barstool and walks over to the table with the dwarves and gnomes. Upon closer inspection, the group of them all are completely covered in dried mud and gunk. Many of them wear hip waders and have helms beside them with sungems on the front. They seem to be in the middle of an argument about a bad die roll. One of the dwarves has yanked the leg off his chair , while another dwarf is punching one gnome in the head while the gnome chews on his forearm, which is holding a second gnome, who has turned blue from lack of oxygen. Skuzz begins wrangling the group and yelling over the music from the back.

Hegryn sighs hard and spits a lip-full of tabbac juice onto the bar floor, shaking his head at the sight of the arguing dwarves and gnomes. He turns back to the group of you individually asking about rooms.

"I've got four rooms fer rent on the third floor, fer a gold per tenday, 3 silver per night. But, if'n ye pay me a gold an' a half, ye can have one fer a fortnight. The entire length of tha Festival." hegryn looks across the bar to each of you, and raises his one eyebrow.

"Which'll it be?"

As He awaits your choice, a pair of cute half-elven females deliver the turtle soup in the half shell, plate of venison and phesant with tubors and leeks. Cloth napkins placed and the girls disappear before anyone gets a word out.

[Endeavor]

Watching the Gnomish/Dwarven brawl, Arjiri gets the strong urge to stand up and cheer. 'I wonder if I could rile them up', she considers, as the alcohol starts circulating through her system 'maybe even get a betting pool going. Hmmm perhaps in an hour or so if theres another fight'

She grins mischievously.

Sipping her beer, she watches Skuzz wrangle the wrestling patrons and admires his forthright attitude in handling living materials as if they were not. A brawler if there ever truly was one she thinks and makes a point to ask him about the scar she noticed before he started his clean-up duties, as well as letting him know she is with the Temple.

In response to Hegryns query, Arjiri Pulls three gold out of her belt pouch and lays them on the bar under a gloved hand: "A room for a fortnight it is, and as well tavern master add a round of ale for these revelers (she motions to the immediate group around her at the bar) whom I daresay may prove interesting with a bit more liquid encouragement, either for them or myself."

[NJWilliam]

A slight smile crossing his face, Trarth continues to assess the half-orgre, dwarves, and gnomes.
Without taking his eyes from the fray, he nods and says to Hegryn,

"Your best room for a fortnight. An' while I dare say your friend has no real need, think he'd mind an eye out for his back?"

Trarth edges a bit toward Hegryn, and almost whispers to Hegryn:

"Much as I like the idea o' it, I canna let the lass be buyin drinks" and hands Hegryn enough for two rounds for the group.

Trarth then takes another pull from his ale, sets it down, and walks to a point closer to both the fray and the stage, keeping an eye on the action.

(Trarth will make no move to get involved in the fray, unless someone comes at the half-ogre from behind or rear flank with a weapon, in which case he will get between the attacker and the half-ogre if possible (using Tumbling and or Jumping as needed). If that cannot be done, he will grapple the one trying to attack the half-ogre from behind/flank. If Hegryn indicates that under no circumstances should he get involved, Trarth instead will remain watching, but ready to engage if tides turn).

[Computer +1]

Simmon drains the rest of his stout and tears into his food. "Did I eat earlier today" echoes in his mind. His schedule at the academy has been so packed that missing a meal here or there has become the norm.
He pulls two gold pieces from this pouch and passes them to Hegryn. For the fortnight and the meal, and it appears my next round has been bought for mehe says with a grin. "Now if only all my meals and drink were bought for me" he thinks to himself.
He eats another mouthful of food and then turns to watch the ruckus behind him. He mutters to himself in Dwarvish "Too much drink not enough brains."
As his next drink arrives he nods to the woman and man who appear to both wish the honor of buying him a drink. My complements.

[Stonjuz]

Seeing that the table brawl is distracting the crowd away from the stage performer’s traditional sing-a-long, Evan will position himself between the fray and the singer. Hoping to boost morale to all within 10’ radius, he sings along with her during the most memorable section of the song, …..“Musha ring dumma do damma da….” ,waving his arm for all others to join them, the other raised in toast, eyeing the crowd inspiringly, trying to alter them back into the performance and rally them out of the fighting….. “whack for the daddyoooooo...’, whack for the daddyoooooool....., there's whiskey in the jar”, …. and turning to the singer with a smile and a slight bow at the waist, he motions that once again, the stage belongs to her, at least for the moment.

[Rotten]

Murdock, having seen Skuzz break up a fight or two over the last couple of weeks only pays half attention to the scuffle. Instead, he scans the room for other signs of trouble. Could this just be a diversion for something bigger? He holds tight to his coin purse, knowing thieves often take advantage of such distractions.

"I'll take a room for a fortnight good sir," he says.

If Hegryn isn't too focused on the fight, he will ask quietly, "So, any interesting news or leads on a money making venture for me? I lost my job today defending the honor of my boss. Apparently he didn't want his honor defended. You wouldnt need another bouncer would ya?"

[Shonuff]

Hegryn takes the coins from Arjiri, Trarth and Murdock. he pockets the coins for the rooms, but takes the other coins for the round of ales and puts those in the lockbox on the shelf behind him. He adjusts his eyepatch as he inspects the coins, making sure none come from Pennimair, Gothmyr's enemy nation. Satisfied, the grizzled barkeep turns and hands keys to those who purchased rooms. Each key having a wooden fob showing a room number.

"All yer rooms are on tha third floor, ye can get ta them from those steps o'er there." Hegryn points and then motions to Trarth with a warning of a wagging finger.

"An eye out fer Skuzz's back? Tha boys not in too much trouble. Tha Ratsweeper guildies there are city-paid workers. They know better'n ta take things too far once ol' Skuzz gets in tha mix." Hegryn turns to walk away, pauses and comes back to add, " Plus, Ol' Skuzz takes high personal offense ta when people stick up fer 'im an' 'help', unless there's more than twenty ta one odds...an' I only count twelve ...halves." Hegryn chuckles at his own short joke and moves on down the bar to distribute the first of two rounds of ale.

Hegryn turns to see the newcomer begin to rouse the crowd into singing. The taproom begins to fall into line and sing along with the crowd-leader and the woman on stage smiles deeply, nodding a silent "Thank you" to Evan. Her melodic voice increasing in volume to match the rest of the celebrating masses.

The one-eyed barkeep turns and walks down to Murdock, but mainly speaking to the group. His eye lands on Murdock and he speaks in his usual rumbling voice.

"Aye. Seems with Tha Festival, Some of the entertainment never reached Tha gates. The job boards in every ward are covered with offers ta pay a wee pretty copper ta resuce trapped or lost entertainers. Also, I 'ear that the watch is looking for someone to fetch an escaped prisoner who fled to the North." Hegryn wipes his nose, stopping an itch and continues. "One of the fat cat nobles in the Coin ward is offerin' a king's bounty for new maps. He has 'is own mapper, but he needs nobs ta protect the mapper, or finish tha maps themselves. Also, There is a trio of dwarves in tha corner, lookin fer a group of swords an' spells fer some job in town." Hegryn smirks under his mustache and adds, "..but tha' one might be a bit...less reputable."

[Endeavor]

Arjiri, watching Simmon scarf down his food, looks back over at Hegyrn and quietly says: "A few extra rounds for this one; the way he's eating, that ale is just a drop in the bucket" then she adds: "...and send him a few shots as well, compliments of the Festival" She drops an additional gold piece into his hand as she marvels at how the tall, thin fellow in the pristine military garb puts it away. "Human in appearance with the eating habits of a dwarf" she thinks to herself.

Noticing the 'extra rounds' she is receiving as she moves from sipping to chugging her ales, she wonders who paid for them (...but is too caught up in the actual consumption of them to issue such a query toward Hegryn).

As her attention (like everyone else's) is drawn to the performers for a short span, she notices Evan and his uplifting accompaniment to the current tepid singer, taking the singing up a notch, and she wonders 'Can anyone just jump in and sing at any moment?'.

After listening to Hegryn's completely undisguised disclosure of general work to be had round Gothmoor (focused toward Murdock), she feels a certain interest in rescuing (entropic) performers or hearing what the dwarves in the corner have to say (..but very little interest in leaving the city walls to track a prisoner or retrieve cartological data). Comfort is represented, at this point, by having her Temple nearby.

[mildly player edited]

[Stonjuz]

Evan's first drink was the two-finger tasting sample. His second shot is consumed following the silent smile gesture from the stage. He politely toasts to her as she continues the song.
Her eyes will serve as a window as the drink will also serve as the tell of the blend. Evan concentrates and tries to discern the varying malt, grain, blend ratio, regional water source, age and such.
Knowing he has the advantage in that she must look away to entertain the listeners, Evan waits until she does and then he turns to the bar to discuss the rooms, the drink and the prospects therein.

[Computer +1]

I assume that Hegryn took my coin as well and I am set up for the fortnight. Right?

Simmon hearing the talk of work starts thinking about what he is going to do with his time for the next few weeks. Yes he could hit the libraries, or the fencing hall, or try to do some private study with a mage or he could try to make a few gold. With the cost of everything rising he may need to take the opportunity to make money and perhaps even make a few connections as well. He is particularly interested in the talk of a fat cat noble needing maps. He visions himself as a champion who brings in all sorts of sought after maps much to the joy of his new patron. So overjoyed is this noble that he grants Simmon the choice of any of his daughters hands in marriage. And of course Simmon would need a commission on level with his new bride's wealth. Why he could.....
Simmon is awoken from his daydream as Hegryn puts yet another drink in front of him. Simmon puffs up as he feels certain that he has garnered the interest of the dark haired woman at the bar. He ponders for a moment the idea of seducing her but he decides that she looks like entirely too wild for him. Perhaps a few rolls in a bed would be fun but she does not have the look of the type of noblewoman he needs to secure his fortune. He also wonders why she would be interested in him exactly. Yes he is rather dashing in his uniform and yes his coin pouch is a bit more inflated than......ahhh. Yes, that must be it. Rather clever, the old get them drunk them rob them trick.
He turns to address the woman in a genial fashion I thank you for your kind generosity. My name is Simmon, you are?

[Endeavor]

"I am but a nymph who brings good fortune.." Arjiri responds (@ Simmon) with a sly, inebriated smile (and is tempted to hold her cloak up to cover the bottom half of her face like a desert nomad but not drunk enough to 'go there' yet) "...so let's drink up and enjoy this Festival; you may never know what could be in store for the lot of us".

She grins a devilish grin and drinks up.