Swinging ponderously on ancient and rusted hinges the heavy wooden door opened slowly as the road-weary traveler stepped through. Snow clumped on his cloak and clung to his chilled armor trapping the cold close to his flesh. The soft, glowing firelight peaking through the frosted windows had drawn Sausaletus to the inn. The promise of warmth and food a welcome relief after his trek through the wintery mountains.
Pushing back his hood, Sausaletus’s eyes began to adjust to the flickering light of a fire not quite strong enough to chase away the gloom. Dank, still air, filled with the scent of many bodies, much food, and altogether too much ale filled the room along with the fire’s warmth. It felt nearly solid against Sausaletus’s cheeks began to warm. Something to struggle against as he strode into the room and closed the door behind him. The inn was dark and colorless even with the roaring fire. This deep into winter, there would be few candles to spare so the room was mostly left in flickering shadows. Flickering shadows - a confusing mass of shifting phantoms and backlit shapes. The only bright spot was the bar along the far wall where a listless bartender cleaned the counter with a lazy rag next to a fat tallow candle that had nearly burned through.
The bartender was a short and stocky man. Sausaletus suspected he might be of Dwarven stock but he couldn’t be certain. His head was bald, his expression a scowl, and his knuckles bore the scars and signs of many a tavern brawl. Deep-set and dark eyes watched as Sausaletus approached the bar and motioned for service by laying a thick Ascalon coin on counter. Wordlessly, he poured a mug of steaming ale from one of the pots resting above a cooking fire behind him, tore some bread, and set them in front of the brooding warrior.
Sausaletus was a stocky man himself. Not overly tall but solidly built with a powerful frame gained from long, hard years of fighting. He wore a full beard and his hair spread out wildly from his scalp. His cloak had been a fine one, once, but had become worn and threadbare from use. Underneath it, though his armor was solid and well crafted, bearing the distinctive filigree of the master craftsmen of the Ascalon valley. It had been carefully maintained and repaired over time and although it would not shine until Sausaletus had a chance to again polish it once again, it glistened with metallic and purposeful menace as the snow began to drip and melt. The heavy armor of a warrior, a professional and trained soldier ready and able to fight at a moment’s notice.
As his eyes became accustomed to the gloom, Sausaletus could tell that the silent atmosphere of the inn was a deliberate one. It was a crowded place where small groups clustered together. A silence had fallen over the room when Sausaletus had entered as the inn’s patrons sized him up. They were a diverse bunch; Sausaletus spied costumes and outfits from across the entire continent. Many, it seemed, were also traveling through the mountains and looking for a quiet and warm place to rest for the night. He was an outsider here among other outsiders and there was little room for trust on these twisting mountain paths. Those in the inn were waiting. And watching. Just in case and most looked prepared to handle themselves should trouble arise. Considering him either not a threat or too difficult to bother, though, whispered conversations soon became loud talk. There was still an expectant and anxious mood in the air, though, and the atmosphere was far from the boisterous moods Sausaletus remembered from his homelands. He leaned back against the bar and nursed his ale, the spiced and thick beer warming him inside and out, and set in to wait, himself, for what might happen next.
The Inn (Introduce Yourself Here)
Sausaletus Rex
BunnyMaster
Standing in the back of the Inn, a pair of bright eyes watched the newcomer. Bunny was leaning on her staff, swaying a bit maybe from the left to the right, humming a song. Drawing her dark cape closer to her body, she lowered her eyes to the floor in a poor attempt to make herself less noticeable to the other customers. Her business here was hers and hers alone. Those days of preparing would've been useless if someone discovered her now. But she had to stay hidden, her eyes were well-known even to this drunken crowd. Bunny stopped singing and surveyed the room.
Bile emerged from within and she had to put a fist in her mouth to remain silent. While getting nearer to her goal, the Curse was draining more and more energy from her. But she could not risk lifting it, not here and certainly not now. Strangers are Death's Minions, waiting to be invited. The words Mother always told her came to her mind. Trusting people was something to dwell on when times are safe, and Trust is something to watch out for when times are dangerous. All her trusted friends were dead, except one. The one that Cursed her. Who needs enemies, when you have such friends. Bunny laughed dryly, these bitter thoughts befit her bitter mouth.
Walking like an old crone, she looked around for a suitable place to rest and rethink her plans. The innkeeper, who felt sorry for this lil' old lady, gave her some hot spiced wine. She layed her staff on the floor, but with the small stone resting on her leftfoot to keep in touch. Marking this piglike innkeeper with an ancient blessing, Bunny accepted the mug and wrapped her hands around it. Her hands, her filthy, dirtcovered and wrinkeled hands. Imagining what she must look like now she frowned: an old lady dressed in a black bag-like robe and faded cape who was talking to herself. She, who once was the Bearer of Light, Mistress of Fate and a Mystiarch of the 7th house! Her hands have formed mountains while her feet could trample entire universes. She was one of the Three who were present at the making of Time itself!
A loud pang silenced the room. In her fury she had crashed the mug and her hands were dripping with wine. Only a miracle could save her now.
Bile emerged from within and she had to put a fist in her mouth to remain silent. While getting nearer to her goal, the Curse was draining more and more energy from her. But she could not risk lifting it, not here and certainly not now. Strangers are Death's Minions, waiting to be invited. The words Mother always told her came to her mind. Trusting people was something to dwell on when times are safe, and Trust is something to watch out for when times are dangerous. All her trusted friends were dead, except one. The one that Cursed her. Who needs enemies, when you have such friends. Bunny laughed dryly, these bitter thoughts befit her bitter mouth.
Walking like an old crone, she looked around for a suitable place to rest and rethink her plans. The innkeeper, who felt sorry for this lil' old lady, gave her some hot spiced wine. She layed her staff on the floor, but with the small stone resting on her leftfoot to keep in touch. Marking this piglike innkeeper with an ancient blessing, Bunny accepted the mug and wrapped her hands around it. Her hands, her filthy, dirtcovered and wrinkeled hands. Imagining what she must look like now she frowned: an old lady dressed in a black bag-like robe and faded cape who was talking to herself. She, who once was the Bearer of Light, Mistress of Fate and a Mystiarch of the 7th house! Her hands have formed mountains while her feet could trample entire universes. She was one of the Three who were present at the making of Time itself!
A loud pang silenced the room. In her fury she had crashed the mug and her hands were dripping with wine. Only a miracle could save her now.
Divinity
Divinity approached the Inn with caution, an angry mesmer/necromancer named sk33zl0w walked out in a hurry, with a mysterious, wry smile. Best to stay out of his way, Divinity thought. Hoping to seek directions, Divinity entered the Inn.
As she walked through the doorway, a short, heavy-built man whistled. Knowing that she couldn't let anyone know of her powers, it was forbidden for females in her village to wield arcane powers, so she smiled and avoided eye contact with the man. The bartender was busy watching an arm wrestling fight, so Divinity approached an older man sitting in the corner. He looked up at her and smiled. Before she introduced herself, he told her that she should leave now. This man is crazy, thought Divinity. Divinity noticed the staff hidden beneath the old man's coat, with the same symbol on it as hers. Divinity never knew what the symbol meant, and before she could ask, a loud, booming voice demanded for gold from the bartender. As people began to make a run for it, the abnormally tall man conjured a frozen prison over the peasants. He had missed a few, who tried to still run, and he shot a block of ice, knocking them down. The most incredible part was, that the man was not even using a staff or wand, but it appeared that his powers were coming straight from his hands. The old man rose from his chair and hovered in the air, also, using his hands to unfreeze the peasants. However, his plan backfired. His fire had burned the peasants, who were screaming in agony. Divinity jumped onto the table, and purged the peasants with her forbiden powers. The were dazed and confused, but alive. Her spell took all of her energy, and Divinity fainted, falling to the floor with a crash.
To be continued...(in my personel RP story which I plan to write soon..)
As she walked through the doorway, a short, heavy-built man whistled. Knowing that she couldn't let anyone know of her powers, it was forbidden for females in her village to wield arcane powers, so she smiled and avoided eye contact with the man. The bartender was busy watching an arm wrestling fight, so Divinity approached an older man sitting in the corner. He looked up at her and smiled. Before she introduced herself, he told her that she should leave now. This man is crazy, thought Divinity. Divinity noticed the staff hidden beneath the old man's coat, with the same symbol on it as hers. Divinity never knew what the symbol meant, and before she could ask, a loud, booming voice demanded for gold from the bartender. As people began to make a run for it, the abnormally tall man conjured a frozen prison over the peasants. He had missed a few, who tried to still run, and he shot a block of ice, knocking them down. The most incredible part was, that the man was not even using a staff or wand, but it appeared that his powers were coming straight from his hands. The old man rose from his chair and hovered in the air, also, using his hands to unfreeze the peasants. However, his plan backfired. His fire had burned the peasants, who were screaming in agony. Divinity jumped onto the table, and purged the peasants with her forbiden powers. The were dazed and confused, but alive. Her spell took all of her energy, and Divinity fainted, falling to the floor with a crash.
To be continued...(in my personel RP story which I plan to write soon..)
Weezer_Blue
((ooc\
Name: Weezer Blue
Age: 19 years
Alignment: Neutral
/ooc))
Weezer wandered through the woods. The cold did not bother him much. He held a long black bow in his left hand. The staff of which was covered with wavy gold writing. An ancient language that few now spoke fluently. At his back was a quiver filled with his arrows. They were green with silver fletching and they had particularly nasty looking piercing heads made of some sort of steel. His armour was dyed dark grey from head to toe and he wore armour made from the branches of bamboo trees as well as along cloak that he left open in the front - which exposed the leather wrapping that was the basic protection of his garments. He was young, probably not past his twenty-first year, but his hair was grey and his eyes exposed wells of endless thought. Stuck alongside his quiver was a short staff. The wood it was carved from appeared almost silver among the snow. It's head was slightly narled and it had been wrapped around the middle with a green cloth. It glowed dimly of purple - a sign of his idle mesmeric power. At his side was a very small bottle of a draught known as "troll unguent". It never seemed to empty. He carryed only one personal item that did not seem to be a weapon of war. In his right hand there was a guitar case.
It had been growing steadily darker and the haze of twilight was settling upon the forest. Weezer looked around and saw the dim light of candles through a window up ahead. He followed the path up to the door and walked in. It was only slightly brighter inside than the gathering gloom outdoors, but it was warm here. He ordered a pint of ale from the barkeep and walked over to a particularly dark table to find out as much as he could from the people talking in the bar. He set his guitar and bow down next to his chair. He didn't feel like playing tonight. He had spent the last week tredding through the battles of a harsh time. To think that just a couple weeks ago he was sitting in his home in the Kingdom of Ascalon and hunting in the fields of his homeland. He went over the events that had passed since then. His head was swimming with thoughts and images - Things he would have rather not seen. He pulled the hood of his cloak over his eyes and slept with his chin against his chest for quite some time.
Name: Weezer Blue
Age: 19 years
Alignment: Neutral
/ooc))
Weezer wandered through the woods. The cold did not bother him much. He held a long black bow in his left hand. The staff of which was covered with wavy gold writing. An ancient language that few now spoke fluently. At his back was a quiver filled with his arrows. They were green with silver fletching and they had particularly nasty looking piercing heads made of some sort of steel. His armour was dyed dark grey from head to toe and he wore armour made from the branches of bamboo trees as well as along cloak that he left open in the front - which exposed the leather wrapping that was the basic protection of his garments. He was young, probably not past his twenty-first year, but his hair was grey and his eyes exposed wells of endless thought. Stuck alongside his quiver was a short staff. The wood it was carved from appeared almost silver among the snow. It's head was slightly narled and it had been wrapped around the middle with a green cloth. It glowed dimly of purple - a sign of his idle mesmeric power. At his side was a very small bottle of a draught known as "troll unguent". It never seemed to empty. He carryed only one personal item that did not seem to be a weapon of war. In his right hand there was a guitar case.
It had been growing steadily darker and the haze of twilight was settling upon the forest. Weezer looked around and saw the dim light of candles through a window up ahead. He followed the path up to the door and walked in. It was only slightly brighter inside than the gathering gloom outdoors, but it was warm here. He ordered a pint of ale from the barkeep and walked over to a particularly dark table to find out as much as he could from the people talking in the bar. He set his guitar and bow down next to his chair. He didn't feel like playing tonight. He had spent the last week tredding through the battles of a harsh time. To think that just a couple weeks ago he was sitting in his home in the Kingdom of Ascalon and hunting in the fields of his homeland. He went over the events that had passed since then. His head was swimming with thoughts and images - Things he would have rather not seen. He pulled the hood of his cloak over his eyes and slept with his chin against his chest for quite some time.
Rushing Wind
As the door to the Inn flew open, a bitter cold gust of wind followed Bahala inside making the candles dance with glee. Large in stature and battle worn his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness that filtered throughout the room. He hardly noticed a soul since there was an amazing collection of outsiders gathered within these walls this evening. What he did notice though was the queer look he found in many an eye gazing upon him. He knew it had nothing to do with his build, armor or anything else of the sort that attracted so many to stare. It was the fire raging within himself, the fire that was mirrored to the outside world by the flames dancing within his eyes. They understood that this man wasn't just any warrior but an elementalist born to the flame. From looks alone they knew he desired any chance or given opportunity to put those inert desires and tested skills to use.
As the door closed behind Bahala, as if on cue, a shattering of glass erupted from the silent stillness. He turned in the direction of the noise and saw a peculiar old woman in black goggling at her sloshed ale on the floor. Odd as it may have been he thought he recognized her but, for the moment, couldn't make much sense of the sudden connection between her and the One that was there even when Time itself had not existed.
His attention was yet again drawn to the bar where a dwarvish-like bartender stood at the ready, mug in hand. He carefully made his way across the floor and past the shadowy phantoms of dancing lights that the candles were creating. He asked the stocky man for some mead. With mug in hand, he tapped the barrel and let loose what Bahala longed for.
Night was setting in fast. That thought flickered through Bahala's mind as he saw one tired, trail-worn traveler upright in his chair, chin on his chest, elbows on the table and hands supporting his head. It was interesting and really rather funny to watch a man snore so loudly and nearly crack his head on the table with every dreamy breath he took.
Bahala quickly came to grips with himself just before he nearly found himself laughing out loud at the sleeping spectacle in front of him. He had come to the Inn with one thought tickling his mind. Companions and friends, of an interesting sort, to continue on with him in the morning to come. His desire was to leave a recently ruined Ascalon behind, journey through the Shiver Peaks and then on to the Gates of Kryta and find, what life there was to it still, the great city of Lions Arch.
He suddenly felt eyes boring into the back of his head. He turned and, from across the room, saw Bunny (as he would come to find out her name later) taking note of him. She was one of the few that he decided to consort with later. For the moment though he kindly thanked the bartender for the mead and found an empty chair at the bar to sit at and quietly drink to his brooding thoughts.
Then he noticed a lone warrior in the chair next to him and decided to find out more about this man. Unique too he found this man to his liking. During their conversation he came to find out what the man's name and business was. He was none other than the infamous warrior, Sausaletus.
As the door closed behind Bahala, as if on cue, a shattering of glass erupted from the silent stillness. He turned in the direction of the noise and saw a peculiar old woman in black goggling at her sloshed ale on the floor. Odd as it may have been he thought he recognized her but, for the moment, couldn't make much sense of the sudden connection between her and the One that was there even when Time itself had not existed.
His attention was yet again drawn to the bar where a dwarvish-like bartender stood at the ready, mug in hand. He carefully made his way across the floor and past the shadowy phantoms of dancing lights that the candles were creating. He asked the stocky man for some mead. With mug in hand, he tapped the barrel and let loose what Bahala longed for.
Night was setting in fast. That thought flickered through Bahala's mind as he saw one tired, trail-worn traveler upright in his chair, chin on his chest, elbows on the table and hands supporting his head. It was interesting and really rather funny to watch a man snore so loudly and nearly crack his head on the table with every dreamy breath he took.
Bahala quickly came to grips with himself just before he nearly found himself laughing out loud at the sleeping spectacle in front of him. He had come to the Inn with one thought tickling his mind. Companions and friends, of an interesting sort, to continue on with him in the morning to come. His desire was to leave a recently ruined Ascalon behind, journey through the Shiver Peaks and then on to the Gates of Kryta and find, what life there was to it still, the great city of Lions Arch.
He suddenly felt eyes boring into the back of his head. He turned and, from across the room, saw Bunny (as he would come to find out her name later) taking note of him. She was one of the few that he decided to consort with later. For the moment though he kindly thanked the bartender for the mead and found an empty chair at the bar to sit at and quietly drink to his brooding thoughts.
Then he noticed a lone warrior in the chair next to him and decided to find out more about this man. Unique too he found this man to his liking. During their conversation he came to find out what the man's name and business was. He was none other than the infamous warrior, Sausaletus.
Tur713
The doors flew open once again and a beat up, young ranger, with his starter armor stood on the other side. A dense fog seemed to flow around his feet. He placed his fists on his hips and declaired, "I, the Legendary Billy Durango, have returned!" Some whispers were exchanged by others in the room, some pointed and others chuckled to themselves. Billy picked up a bucket of dry ice behind that he must have bought for far too much from a hydromancer. He then sat down at the bar and ordered a glass of water. The fog continued to emit from the bucket. The bartender gave him the glass with a bit of a laugh, Billy took it and drank.
Alo of Lokni
He was laced with a number of other native ornaments, on his back was a bow, and at his side a sword. He looked erie, as if he had seen he had some type of bond with the land. The wood beneath his feet seemed to moan with each step. Untill finally he stopped at the bar and sat down. A long howl could be heard heard outside of the door. It sounded as if it where just outside the door, untill finally a shadow of massive fur could be seen passing near window of the inn. Then suddenly large glowing eye's begin pearing through the window as if watching this stranger who had entered insuring his safety.
The stranger peared back at the window his eye's calmly closing as he then turned back to the dwarvish tender who didn't seem to impressed. It was of know doubt that he had seen many things enter and leave the tavern. This guy was of know exception. The dwarven tender immedaitely slapped down a cup of warm steamy water and made a comment, "You hear to disturb the guest of this Inn with your silly spirits and that wolf out there again Alo?"
Taking a sip non shalontely of the hot water he smiled as a barley noticeable glow traced from the cup. "The spirits mean no harm to you my friend, as for the wolf, as long as you leave him alone, he will leave you alone." The tender shook his head and moved down back to other duties leaving this Alo to finish his beverage....
eventhorizen
The cold, sharp wind whistled noisily, seeming to pull and push at the doors and windows of every house the old man passed. Coming up to the tavern he gazed in wistfully through a dirt streaked pane at the scene's of warmth and mirth, and the unfolding of events of many lives within.
The old man shook his head and hurried on, the stories of dark deeds done in the village were as increasing by day as they were unsettling at night, and the old man worried as much for himself as he did for his old wife, alone in their cottage.
Turning the corner that would take him on the last leg of his trip home, out of the village to his cottage near the woods, his rheumy eyes swore they could see dim shapes moving in the darkness. Could it be a bear? rustling about at night for a meal on the edge of town? Surely this was neither the season nor the area for bears? Dimmed and decrepit senses straining in the darkness of night and age he looked for what was making his body feel at unease.
Suddenly, just when he felt he could take the suspense no longer, and would have to run as fast as his near crippled legs would carry him, or succumb to his own growing fear, a face appeared in the distance. Pure white, seemingly almost bodiless in the darkness, a tall slim youthful figure approached him. Confused, near dazed, he looked up to take a look at his sudden companion, black and silver leather growing more apparent as they grew closer, pale white hands and neck, and a pure white face... What a face, he looked into the blank white demonic eyes of the mesmerising face belonging to, he knew now, his death.
'Your... your name?' he stuttered hoarsely, tranfixed by the infinate gaze of the deadly beauty before him, straining every fibre of his terrified body to utter the question he could not ignore.
'Ynzia' was the reply. The stranger stared into the old mans eyes, the scene of his old wife's tormeted death being played out across the demonic gaze of the stranger. And the old man was no more. The will to live teased out of his soul as the will to die was given to him in a single peircing gaze.
Ynzia took the corpse of the old man, his eyes fixed wide in death, to a secret spot where he could do his necromantic ceremonies in their fullest glory. A married sacrifice, he smiled, the dark rewards would be legendary this night.
The old man shook his head and hurried on, the stories of dark deeds done in the village were as increasing by day as they were unsettling at night, and the old man worried as much for himself as he did for his old wife, alone in their cottage.
Turning the corner that would take him on the last leg of his trip home, out of the village to his cottage near the woods, his rheumy eyes swore they could see dim shapes moving in the darkness. Could it be a bear? rustling about at night for a meal on the edge of town? Surely this was neither the season nor the area for bears? Dimmed and decrepit senses straining in the darkness of night and age he looked for what was making his body feel at unease.
Suddenly, just when he felt he could take the suspense no longer, and would have to run as fast as his near crippled legs would carry him, or succumb to his own growing fear, a face appeared in the distance. Pure white, seemingly almost bodiless in the darkness, a tall slim youthful figure approached him. Confused, near dazed, he looked up to take a look at his sudden companion, black and silver leather growing more apparent as they grew closer, pale white hands and neck, and a pure white face... What a face, he looked into the blank white demonic eyes of the mesmerising face belonging to, he knew now, his death.
'Your... your name?' he stuttered hoarsely, tranfixed by the infinate gaze of the deadly beauty before him, straining every fibre of his terrified body to utter the question he could not ignore.
'Ynzia' was the reply. The stranger stared into the old mans eyes, the scene of his old wife's tormeted death being played out across the demonic gaze of the stranger. And the old man was no more. The will to live teased out of his soul as the will to die was given to him in a single peircing gaze.
Ynzia took the corpse of the old man, his eyes fixed wide in death, to a secret spot where he could do his necromantic ceremonies in their fullest glory. A married sacrifice, he smiled, the dark rewards would be legendary this night.
relientK_fan
A young man wearing a black cloak walked into inn. The cloak billowed as the wind blew outside. The man shivered slightly from the cold, and threw back his hood, revealing shaggy brown hair and brown eyes. He looked around the inn, and walked towards the bar. He sat on a stool, and placed a gold coin on the bar. "One ale, please." the man said softly.
The bartender took the coin, and poured him a glass of frothy ale. The man grabbed the glass, and took a sip. He immediately felt warmer, and unfastened his cloak. He was wearing a white longsleeved shirt, and thick brown pants. The man sat his heavy pack in the floor. It held a long sword from his father, and a idol from his mother.
The young man had just enlisted with the Vanguard, seeking revenge on the Charr that had killed his parents brutally. The Vanguard did not give him armor though; he was working on getting the money for it by stealing from small stalls, and finding wayward travellers and charging a toll. He knew it was wrong, but he wanted to survive in battle.
The man's name was Carth, but few knew that. He looked to be about twenty years old. He contiunued to sip his ale, and looked around curiously at the other patrons.
The bartender took the coin, and poured him a glass of frothy ale. The man grabbed the glass, and took a sip. He immediately felt warmer, and unfastened his cloak. He was wearing a white longsleeved shirt, and thick brown pants. The man sat his heavy pack in the floor. It held a long sword from his father, and a idol from his mother.
The young man had just enlisted with the Vanguard, seeking revenge on the Charr that had killed his parents brutally. The Vanguard did not give him armor though; he was working on getting the money for it by stealing from small stalls, and finding wayward travellers and charging a toll. He knew it was wrong, but he wanted to survive in battle.
The man's name was Carth, but few knew that. He looked to be about twenty years old. He contiunued to sip his ale, and looked around curiously at the other patrons.
bloodrever
The inn door burst open an in stepped a Blackguard of Nerua. He then held the door open bowed as three ladies followed him in the inn. The three ladies seem to be a noble born and powerful casters by the aura of energy coming from them. The three ladies cast dismisive glances over the people in the inn and head over to an empty table while the blackguard moves over to the barkeep. "My Ladies the Sisters Bloodrever requier your best food and wine", the blackguard says to the barkeep. He then goes to stand guard over the sisters and the wait for their food to be delivered to them.
Death By Hesitation
Quote:
Originally Posted by sk33zl0w
When sk33zl0w was a wee lad o' eight yeras old e didn' kna ow tah read so his mates played a bit o' a funny on im and they says to him the bar is serven' eight yer olds noow so he ran aloong to tah bar and asked for a pint. Tah bar tender says to im that he cant drink till he be 21 sose sk33zl0w gets mad and goes back to is cottage. Sk33zl0w decides to get learned sose he can stop gettin' inta these litta stickies. 
13 years rater
Skeezlow trains in the ways of a mesmer necromancer and learns how to speak engrish correctry.HE ten change is name too sk33zr0w the angry He decides to get back at his friends and on a cord snowry day he goes in bar and he aks for pint two times! Bar guy give him 2 pint and sk33zr0w pays his 1 dolla fitty cent and be happy. Sk33zr0w must now find party to do random missions so he can kiil his friends and turn them into rlv 1 skerreton becu he dont put no point into death magic.
Best introduction ever
13 years rater
Skeezlow trains in the ways of a mesmer necromancer and learns how to speak engrish correctry.HE ten change is name too sk33zr0w the angry He decides to get back at his friends and on a cord snowry day he goes in bar and he aks for pint two times! Bar guy give him 2 pint and sk33zr0w pays his 1 dolla fitty cent and be happy. Sk33zr0w must now find party to do random missions so he can kiil his friends and turn them into rlv 1 skerreton becu he dont put no point into death magic.
Best introduction ever
Death By Hesitation
"Wratch out!" the young irish (or some wierd accent) lad warned, but it was too late. There was no avoiding the collision. Pulling himslef on the floor, Blade helped the other boy off the floor."Exzuse me, srrowy abrout that," wild eyed boy said (or attempted to with his english). "Don't worry about it, but do you mind if i ask why you were in such a rush?" stated Blade. "Haven't ya herd? They swervin 8 year orlds like us at the Inn," and the boy took off sprinting once again. It wasn't until later that day, that Blade made his way to the Inn. He found out the Irish boy had lied to him when the whole Inn laughed at his request for alchohol. Blade wouldnt forget how the boy, who spoke like he was mentally retarded, had embarassed him. (Sincerely to Sk33zlow )
__________________________________________________ _______________
Main story
The apprentice of Drizzt Dourden himself, Blade had a grand destiny ahead of him. A destiny that would only just begin on this cold winter day, in a place we know as The Inn. He placed his worn claoused hands on the wood. The door cracked opened, and the sounds of laughter, music, and conversation rushed toward him. He made his way to the back of the room where he could find privacy and rest. “Can I help ya?” inquired a gruff voice.
Blade turned to face the dwarf, “ A mug of ale, and a loaf of bread please.”
“Very well, have it here in a moment,” with that the short figure walked away. Blade went back to reading of a small hobbit’s great quest. He peered around the room and examined the others. It was then Blade saw the largest man in all of Tyria, Raid. Standing well over 8ft, the warrior was an impressinve and frigthening sight to behold. “What do you want ya rotten midget of a dwarf? I’ve seen moss spiders twice your size!” the insult Raid directed at the serving dwarf. The joke brought roars of laughter from his company. The dwarf walked away angry as a hornet. Blade chuckled when he saw the dwarf spitting in the drinks he brought back to Raid's table. Blade considered teaching this giant a lesson in respect, but the man was to massive to confidently fight with. Putting it out of his mind he went back to his book.
But solitude would not come to him that day. “Well, Well, hello handsome,” came a voluptuous voice. “ What brings you here, and where did you get that nasty scar on your beautiful face?” the women continued. Blade was about to push the shallow lady off, as he had the others, when he twisted around and saw her face. The air expelled from his lungs. The woman was more beautiful than the Twin Goddess, Lysa. He felt his face redden as the young ranger tried to speak up.
He managed to get out, “ I’m from…uh…from uh...” but before he could finish the woman pulled him closer and pressed her mouth against his. Just when Blade felt like forgetting all he had been taught, he heard a deep voice roar, “ Keep your filthy hands off my women! You damned ranger!” The warrior, Raid had made his way over to Blade’s table.
“Raid it’s not what you think…” the beautiful lady tried to create an excuse, but Raid would have none of it. “You’ve had my woman, now try some of me.” He screamed. “I apologize I had no intention –“ Blade stammered but Raid was'nt in the mood for talking. Raid cut him off pulling his hammer out and making a swing for Blades face, but Blade had anticipated such a rash move, he had trained his whole to do such. He quickly pulled out both of his scimitars and caught the hammer. Before Raid’s eyes had opened form blinking, Blade swatted the hammer out of the way and slapped Raid across the skull with the flat of his blade.
“Why you little... I eat amateurs like you for breakfast.” Raid grunted rubbing the red imprint on his face. He threw his hammer down and grabbed Blade by the cloak slammed him onto the table. Surely the man’s strength exceeded that of an elemental Blade thought. He placed his hands on Blade’s neck and began strangling him. Blade grabbed his gigantic arms, swung his leg upwards into Raid’s face, and somersaulted out of range. His second foot hadn’t hit the ground when he sprang forward, and drop kicked his opponent to the ground, where Raid lay motionless, unconscious. Blade gathered his stuff and made his way toward the exit where he found several of Raid’s angry friends waiting... to be continued
( let me know if you would like me to finish the story...it involves ppl from previous introductions)
__________________________________________________ _______________
Main story
The apprentice of Drizzt Dourden himself, Blade had a grand destiny ahead of him. A destiny that would only just begin on this cold winter day, in a place we know as The Inn. He placed his worn claoused hands on the wood. The door cracked opened, and the sounds of laughter, music, and conversation rushed toward him. He made his way to the back of the room where he could find privacy and rest. “Can I help ya?” inquired a gruff voice.
Blade turned to face the dwarf, “ A mug of ale, and a loaf of bread please.”
“Very well, have it here in a moment,” with that the short figure walked away. Blade went back to reading of a small hobbit’s great quest. He peered around the room and examined the others. It was then Blade saw the largest man in all of Tyria, Raid. Standing well over 8ft, the warrior was an impressinve and frigthening sight to behold. “What do you want ya rotten midget of a dwarf? I’ve seen moss spiders twice your size!” the insult Raid directed at the serving dwarf. The joke brought roars of laughter from his company. The dwarf walked away angry as a hornet. Blade chuckled when he saw the dwarf spitting in the drinks he brought back to Raid's table. Blade considered teaching this giant a lesson in respect, but the man was to massive to confidently fight with. Putting it out of his mind he went back to his book.
But solitude would not come to him that day. “Well, Well, hello handsome,” came a voluptuous voice. “ What brings you here, and where did you get that nasty scar on your beautiful face?” the women continued. Blade was about to push the shallow lady off, as he had the others, when he twisted around and saw her face. The air expelled from his lungs. The woman was more beautiful than the Twin Goddess, Lysa. He felt his face redden as the young ranger tried to speak up.
He managed to get out, “ I’m from…uh…from uh...” but before he could finish the woman pulled him closer and pressed her mouth against his. Just when Blade felt like forgetting all he had been taught, he heard a deep voice roar, “ Keep your filthy hands off my women! You damned ranger!” The warrior, Raid had made his way over to Blade’s table.
“Raid it’s not what you think…” the beautiful lady tried to create an excuse, but Raid would have none of it. “You’ve had my woman, now try some of me.” He screamed. “I apologize I had no intention –“ Blade stammered but Raid was'nt in the mood for talking. Raid cut him off pulling his hammer out and making a swing for Blades face, but Blade had anticipated such a rash move, he had trained his whole to do such. He quickly pulled out both of his scimitars and caught the hammer. Before Raid’s eyes had opened form blinking, Blade swatted the hammer out of the way and slapped Raid across the skull with the flat of his blade.
“Why you little... I eat amateurs like you for breakfast.” Raid grunted rubbing the red imprint on his face. He threw his hammer down and grabbed Blade by the cloak slammed him onto the table. Surely the man’s strength exceeded that of an elemental Blade thought. He placed his hands on Blade’s neck and began strangling him. Blade grabbed his gigantic arms, swung his leg upwards into Raid’s face, and somersaulted out of range. His second foot hadn’t hit the ground when he sprang forward, and drop kicked his opponent to the ground, where Raid lay motionless, unconscious. Blade gathered his stuff and made his way toward the exit where he found several of Raid’s angry friends waiting... to be continued
( let me know if you would like me to finish the story...it involves ppl from previous introductions)
Krass of Nod
*stumbling head long into inn swearing three languages and promptly takes out an empty table* ~SMASH THUD~ 'WHOOOOOA! oumph' *stands up and dusts off guild cape* 'okay that is the last time i am gonna tell you I never did what you think I did with your daughter....in fact I don't even AHHH! *dodges three fire balls in rapid succesion* HOO! HE! HA! NEENER NEENER YOU MISSED *grabs up cape and grandstands as 2 forieign guards stalk in the door wearing dark soft leather plates and scale* 'Krass of Nod you are wanted for......tresspassing on the lord Estebans estate, you are to be brought back alive to be tortured and killed and then tortured some more' growls the first surly brute. *the guards draw thier swords*. 'well since you put it that way......TO THE PAIN! KEEEEEE-AIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!! *force of strike sends guard out of the door with a sickening crunch*. Now for you... *guard is looking a little nervous, and whistles a high shrill tone, having ventured to close to the door, a lasso comes flying through the still open portal and catches Krass cleanly around the mid chest area* 'Ah man, another one of these days'. HRRRUMMMPHHH *jerked to the ground and hauled out obviously by a horse at full throttle* 'I will come back and fix the.........*voice trails off in the distance*
Alzbeta
A small-framed woman ducked through the door, which was still swinging in the wake of the dozens of patrons now thronging the Inn. She brushed past a few warriors, a dwarf, and a young man speaking broken, heavily accented English. Overcompensating to avoid the crowds, she bumped into a filthy table, scuffing her freshly-tailored hose. She cursed under her breath, looking down to appraise the damage. Imported green velvet, she muttered. Ruined. She decided on a glass of red wine to settle her nerves, and retired to a table at the back of the room. Rehearsals didn't start for another hour, so she'd have to keep herself entertained until then. She rubbed her temples to get rid of the nagging headache the noise in the Inn was giving her, and shook her auburn hair into her face, a curtain against the teeming masses...
Dante Dismas
Dante was starting to get tired of this smithy. This may have been due to the fact he had been running through town for about ten minutes now, climbing fences and generally trying his best to escape. It turns out Dante had visited that particular weaponsmith at some point in the past and he was now demanding that Dante return a rather large sum of gold. Dantes natural course of action was, obviously, to run as fast as he could and hope to find a large crowd to lose the enraged weaponsmith.
As it turned out there was a rather popular tavern in town with a sizeable crowd in front. Dante dissapeared into the crowd, and then suddenly changed directions and slipped through the door as quickly as he could.
Inside the tavern the scene was alot less dramatic, and made Dante seem more like a fool.
What the people inside saw was this: a very out of breath ranger dashed through the door, slammed it in the face of a rather mean looking man, and pressed himself against the wall of the tavern as if he were trying to dissapear into it.
After an awkward moment Dante glanced around the room, relaxed a bit, attempted to brush the dirt off his armor, failed, then with what dignity he had left just decided to sit down.
As it turned out there was a rather popular tavern in town with a sizeable crowd in front. Dante dissapeared into the crowd, and then suddenly changed directions and slipped through the door as quickly as he could.
Inside the tavern the scene was alot less dramatic, and made Dante seem more like a fool.
What the people inside saw was this: a very out of breath ranger dashed through the door, slammed it in the face of a rather mean looking man, and pressed himself against the wall of the tavern as if he were trying to dissapear into it.
After an awkward moment Dante glanced around the room, relaxed a bit, attempted to brush the dirt off his armor, failed, then with what dignity he had left just decided to sit down.
Channler Hadrian
Channler walked with a heavy step towards the unkown town on the snowy ridge.
It had been many a moon since the last time he saw his own kind, being as the wilderness was only accompanied by creatures that wanted to the best of you, your life! But there was also an air of regret for leaving the placid place. Long had he meditated on top of the rocks and shallows of the cool springs and brooks. Long had he wished for some way to fix his past, to make everything that haunted him go away. A town sentry walked towards him.
"Who goes der?" the gaurd shouted in the distance
"I am but a weary traveler that seeks refuge from this horrid weather, I mean no harm." Solemly replied Channler
"A'right den, make ye way, but I aint wantin trouble, ye hear?"
"Anything for my lord" said Channler as he bowed and backed away, making his way towards the nearest building. For his luck it appeared to be a inn.
"Wait" He thought to himself, "Is this... that town? Damn, better off keeping my head low" He pulled his hood over his face and remeninced over what had happened here at least 7 years earlier.
"Ok, now parry! Good, to the left, watch the over swing, one overly drastic move and your oppenent has you in their grasp!"
"Yes sir! I'll do my best, no I'll do even better than that!" The boy said with viguor
The two were fighting with wooden swords not but 3 feet in length, hacking and slashing back at one another. The boy was Channler, he harbored a horrible secret but was working his way to a unbeleivable goal. He was to be a Knight. The older man was Sir Jonathon Goodfriend, Knight errant to the local lord.
"Good! Good! Much better!" Goodfriend exclaimed at little Channler's combo, "But watch this!" Sir Goodfriend attacked back with a flurry of attacks that cause Channler's sword to get knocked out of his hand. He took the flat part of the wooden sword and smacked Channler in the stomach, knocking him back several feet. Channler hit the ground, but something weird happened. The air between him and Sir GoodFriend turn to a rotten smell, and thousands of fly's flew out of nothing and started bombarding the Knight Errant. Horrified, Channler lay there, know he had accidently cast the deathly swarm spell. Now all he knew, would know he was a necromancer, forbidden in this area.
He ran and ran, but now he had returned and he must face the future.
The door slowly opened to the Inn, and a good deal of people were congregated inside. No one noticed him there and he felt fine with that. Sitting down in a corner he closed his eyes and listened to the many people around him...
OOC: This was my first post!
It had been many a moon since the last time he saw his own kind, being as the wilderness was only accompanied by creatures that wanted to the best of you, your life! But there was also an air of regret for leaving the placid place. Long had he meditated on top of the rocks and shallows of the cool springs and brooks. Long had he wished for some way to fix his past, to make everything that haunted him go away. A town sentry walked towards him.
"Who goes der?" the gaurd shouted in the distance
"I am but a weary traveler that seeks refuge from this horrid weather, I mean no harm." Solemly replied Channler
"A'right den, make ye way, but I aint wantin trouble, ye hear?"
"Anything for my lord" said Channler as he bowed and backed away, making his way towards the nearest building. For his luck it appeared to be a inn.
"Wait" He thought to himself, "Is this... that town? Damn, better off keeping my head low" He pulled his hood over his face and remeninced over what had happened here at least 7 years earlier.
"Ok, now parry! Good, to the left, watch the over swing, one overly drastic move and your oppenent has you in their grasp!"
"Yes sir! I'll do my best, no I'll do even better than that!" The boy said with viguor
The two were fighting with wooden swords not but 3 feet in length, hacking and slashing back at one another. The boy was Channler, he harbored a horrible secret but was working his way to a unbeleivable goal. He was to be a Knight. The older man was Sir Jonathon Goodfriend, Knight errant to the local lord.
"Good! Good! Much better!" Goodfriend exclaimed at little Channler's combo, "But watch this!" Sir Goodfriend attacked back with a flurry of attacks that cause Channler's sword to get knocked out of his hand. He took the flat part of the wooden sword and smacked Channler in the stomach, knocking him back several feet. Channler hit the ground, but something weird happened. The air between him and Sir GoodFriend turn to a rotten smell, and thousands of fly's flew out of nothing and started bombarding the Knight Errant. Horrified, Channler lay there, know he had accidently cast the deathly swarm spell. Now all he knew, would know he was a necromancer, forbidden in this area.
He ran and ran, but now he had returned and he must face the future.
The door slowly opened to the Inn, and a good deal of people were congregated inside. No one noticed him there and he felt fine with that. Sitting down in a corner he closed his eyes and listened to the many people around him...
OOC: This was my first post!
Ghoetic
The door said *poof* and a shadowly dust dissapeard. a man with black cloths and a big black hood came in. just as he put both hes feet in the inn, the door *poffed* back. he saw a bunch of faces look at him with their mouth open. then a mighty warrior stood up from his chair and pulled his sword and said: This is no place for things like you! be gone before the light bannish you back to hell!. - Is that so young Sausaletus? do you really belive in the light? said the black man. -How do you know my name?! and yes i belive in the light! said Sausaletus. - Well then prove it too me! show me your so called "light" said the black man. Quickly Sausaletus tried to hit the man with the sword and he screamed: The is the power of light. just as he's sword touched the man, the man dissapeard and the sword too. all that remaind was a shadow likley dust. and a spooky voice said: Your to young to die, hahaha! i will be back!.
Ardus Shadowmane
"Easy, Temple," Ardus murmured to the massive feline padding silently beside him, "An inn is a place of rest for man and beast, I'm sure. You need warmth as well." He chuckled quietly and his eyes twinkled as he moved to open the Inn door. "Besides, who would try and stop you from entering with me?"
A gust of cold air blew at the man's back as he opened the door to the tavern. Most of his face was obscured by a tan mask covering his nose and mouth. A few strands of black hair were all that were visible beneath the hood he wore. Hard lines creased his forehead and upper cheeks, framing his bright green eyes and making it hard to determine his age at first glance. His broad frame was garbed in a blue jerkin, with a black cape clasped about his neck. An emblem of a hand on fire was emblazoned upon the back.
Upon first entering the inn, he seemed taken aback at the amount of folk present. He quickly collected himself and began walking through the crowd, looking at each person, measuring them on his way to a fairly quit and dark corner. A massive cat padded alongside him, her eyes flashing yellow in the firelight. Any unwelcome glances towards his feline companion were dissuaded by stern glances from the man. He unstrung the silver bow upon his back, leaning it up against the wall next to him as one would a staff. He then sat in a chair and leaned back, propping his fee up on the table, gesturing for a glass of whatever wine the place could offer him. The cat moved under the table and curled up into a ball, her gaze ever watchful for any who might harass her master.
A gust of cold air blew at the man's back as he opened the door to the tavern. Most of his face was obscured by a tan mask covering his nose and mouth. A few strands of black hair were all that were visible beneath the hood he wore. Hard lines creased his forehead and upper cheeks, framing his bright green eyes and making it hard to determine his age at first glance. His broad frame was garbed in a blue jerkin, with a black cape clasped about his neck. An emblem of a hand on fire was emblazoned upon the back.
Upon first entering the inn, he seemed taken aback at the amount of folk present. He quickly collected himself and began walking through the crowd, looking at each person, measuring them on his way to a fairly quit and dark corner. A massive cat padded alongside him, her eyes flashing yellow in the firelight. Any unwelcome glances towards his feline companion were dissuaded by stern glances from the man. He unstrung the silver bow upon his back, leaning it up against the wall next to him as one would a staff. He then sat in a chair and leaned back, propping his fee up on the table, gesturing for a glass of whatever wine the place could offer him. The cat moved under the table and curled up into a ball, her gaze ever watchful for any who might harass her master.
Marion
Marion Reclined in his padded chair, swirling a bit of white wine around in his glass as the soft orange flicker of the hearth danced in his deep golden eyes. He quietly observed the patrons of this cozy inn, all seeking refreshment and shelter from the biting chill outside.
His dusty blonde hair rested on the shoulders of his fine coat, contrasting sharply with the rich black material. In his left hand he held a single gold coin which he juggled between his fingers between slow and distant sips of wine. Most of the patrons knew him or had heard his name or were wearing something they bought from him. But he was content to sit seperated from them at a table with a few of his shady business associates, content to merely observe and eavesdrop.
His dusty blonde hair rested on the shoulders of his fine coat, contrasting sharply with the rich black material. In his left hand he held a single gold coin which he juggled between his fingers between slow and distant sips of wine. Most of the patrons knew him or had heard his name or were wearing something they bought from him. But he was content to sit seperated from them at a table with a few of his shady business associates, content to merely observe and eavesdrop.
Prince Daniel
Vimes was a soldier, a royal knight, one of the trusted few who the King hand picked to be in his bodyguard. Vimes was at first honoured when he got his promotion in his eager youth but had since come to realise the King was loosing his grip on Ascalon and was more content to defend these pathetic lands then restore its former glory. Although Vimes was dissilusioned and yearned for action he was no traitor and was loyal to church and king alike.
Sitting in this gloomy inn which contained some of the most wretched creatures in the city, Vimes lit his pipe and sat back in the corner, his hood and cloak disguising the gleaming armour and weaponry beneath. He watched and waited for signs of the rebels he had been sent personally by the King to kill. When they showed he would spare no mercy.
(OOC there have been some weird entries here
but Ghoetic were you roleplaying another persons charachter?)
Sitting in this gloomy inn which contained some of the most wretched creatures in the city, Vimes lit his pipe and sat back in the corner, his hood and cloak disguising the gleaming armour and weaponry beneath. He watched and waited for signs of the rebels he had been sent personally by the King to kill. When they showed he would spare no mercy.
(OOC there have been some weird entries here
but Ghoetic were you roleplaying another persons charachter?)
balmung
Lord Balmung of the Azure Skies
Lawful Good - Paladin
Now alot of people in this inn I would say are from the parts by the looks of them. However i was from a distant land, a stranger to these parts. To some I bet this weather is even cold, Ha!, this feels like summer to me. Where I am from it is always cold, so cold it even chills your soul. Not many would dare to even venture near there.
But I can see as i enter this tavern that I am not the only misfit. There are a few with distinguishing marks like my own, one guy has a fire in his eyes and I mean a real fire. My pupils are silver, ever heard of that? Me neither except on manners of dragons, but how could I be related to a dragon? Shrugs the thought away and gets back to the people in the bar. The dwarvish looking bartender is just starring, gazing into my strange eyes, no doubt he is curious about my feather cape that i've had since I can remember, infact I would almost say it is apart of me because i have never been able to remove it, either by some strange will or because it really is apart of me, I do not know.
I am only hear in search of this Hall of Heroes, rumors in my guild, the Hounds of Creegus, say that one could win favor of the Gods there. Perhaps I can find out my past, who my parents are by gaining the favor of these distant Gods. Maybe they will reveal some truth to me, that I have so longed for. It has been long since our own Creegus has smiled upon our guild, we know not where he went. Perhaps these distant gods may know this as well.
Lawful Good - Paladin
Now alot of people in this inn I would say are from the parts by the looks of them. However i was from a distant land, a stranger to these parts. To some I bet this weather is even cold, Ha!, this feels like summer to me. Where I am from it is always cold, so cold it even chills your soul. Not many would dare to even venture near there.
But I can see as i enter this tavern that I am not the only misfit. There are a few with distinguishing marks like my own, one guy has a fire in his eyes and I mean a real fire. My pupils are silver, ever heard of that? Me neither except on manners of dragons, but how could I be related to a dragon? Shrugs the thought away and gets back to the people in the bar. The dwarvish looking bartender is just starring, gazing into my strange eyes, no doubt he is curious about my feather cape that i've had since I can remember, infact I would almost say it is apart of me because i have never been able to remove it, either by some strange will or because it really is apart of me, I do not know.
I am only hear in search of this Hall of Heroes, rumors in my guild, the Hounds of Creegus, say that one could win favor of the Gods there. Perhaps I can find out my past, who my parents are by gaining the favor of these distant Gods. Maybe they will reveal some truth to me, that I have so longed for. It has been long since our own Creegus has smiled upon our guild, we know not where he went. Perhaps these distant gods may know this as well.
Omnipotens Vir
The great wooden doors parted once more, allowing passage for Omnipotens Vir. He entered the inn proudly yet cautiously, and removed his wyvern helmet, revealing long, black, ruffled hair, and a stern complexion. His careful footsteps brought about a slight echo, contrasting to the claw tappings of his stalker, whom was loyally by his side, purring amiably.
He appeared valiant, yet tired from what one can only surmise was a grand expedition, with many battles; a magnificant bow and a hefty, glistening long sword were protruding from the rear pouches of his armour, afterall.
The surrounding congregation glanced at Vir curiously, but they received no gesture in return, for he was determindely staring a hole into the floor, stroking his contented stalker.
-----
Was that any good?
He appeared valiant, yet tired from what one can only surmise was a grand expedition, with many battles; a magnificant bow and a hefty, glistening long sword were protruding from the rear pouches of his armour, afterall.
The surrounding congregation glanced at Vir curiously, but they received no gesture in return, for he was determindely staring a hole into the floor, stroking his contented stalker.
-----
Was that any good?
Space for Rent
The tavern doors creaked open as a lady arrived war-torn and worn out she appeared as she approached the bar for something to soothe her battle wounds. Many days have passed since she had seen a friendly face minus the stalker which was by her side of course.
She asked the bartender "How about a drink?"
"What'll it be?" the bartender replied.
"Something to get my fires back to ablaze would be nice!" Space replied.
"I got just the thing" the bartender said with a hearty laugh.
He filled up a glass and placed on the bar counter and without hesitation she slammed back the glass full of ale and casually placed it back onto the countertop.
The bartender asked "Thats a might big gulp for a lady of your size."
Space replied "And a mighty big thirst I had for an ale of that flavor." she retorted with a smile.
"By the way I am tired and worn out from this trip I had would you happen to have a Space For Rent for me and my little cat here."
"No problem" he said. "Third room up and too the right will do you find my friend."
Space thanked the bartender for his time and through a couple coins on the bar as she walked away. The bartender stuttered. "Hey I never got your name?" She glanced back at the bartender and said in a raspy tone "Space For Rent be my name and this here stalker goes by the name of Renters Insurance." As she started up the stairs she looked back and beckoned her friendly cohort as they walked up to the room and closed the door the bartender just chuckled and said to himself. "Well I guess any lady with a name like that must of had a tough trip here."
She asked the bartender "How about a drink?"
"What'll it be?" the bartender replied.
"Something to get my fires back to ablaze would be nice!" Space replied.
"I got just the thing" the bartender said with a hearty laugh.
He filled up a glass and placed on the bar counter and without hesitation she slammed back the glass full of ale and casually placed it back onto the countertop.
The bartender asked "Thats a might big gulp for a lady of your size."
Space replied "And a mighty big thirst I had for an ale of that flavor." she retorted with a smile.
"By the way I am tired and worn out from this trip I had would you happen to have a Space For Rent for me and my little cat here."
"No problem" he said. "Third room up and too the right will do you find my friend."
Space thanked the bartender for his time and through a couple coins on the bar as she walked away. The bartender stuttered. "Hey I never got your name?" She glanced back at the bartender and said in a raspy tone "Space For Rent be my name and this here stalker goes by the name of Renters Insurance." As she started up the stairs she looked back and beckoned her friendly cohort as they walked up to the room and closed the door the bartender just chuckled and said to himself. "Well I guess any lady with a name like that must of had a tough trip here."
Ristaron
((OOC: We're going to need a new door, that one is sure to fall off its hinges soon.))
Comfortably seated in a private settle in the back of the tavern, Ristaron scanned the place again with dark midnight eyes from beneath a deep hood. His contact had not hinted any time for the meeting, Ristaron had been sitting in the same place all day.
And all night as well most likely, he thought. The stocky bartender came around once more, eyeing Ristaron crudely again. Though the shadows hid the man's features, the bartender still sensed secrecy from the traveller. The worn cloak, the leather gloves he wore, the grass-stained clothes he wore - no doubt overtop a padded-leather cuirass. The most puzzling, and potentially disturbing part of the stranger were the whisps of dull white hair visible beneath the hood, in the dying light of a candle on the round table before the man.
"Another ale, sir?" the pubmaster asked.
"No, thank you", Ristaron replied quietly. The three mugs he had emptied since arrival sat lonesomely on the oak table. "May I inquire as to the time?" he added after the bartender, who turned.
"Dusk is nearly gone, I reckon it's nearly ten."
"Thank you. Has anybody come asking for Goloth?"
Ristaron had asked this upon arrival, the answer remained the same.
"No, not to my knowledge."
"Thank you", Ristaron said again. The stocky man turned to leave again, but turned back to the weathered Ranger.
"Just so ye haven't fergotten, sir, yer room is on the second floor, end of the hall, to the right."
"Yes, thank you."
Shifting to remain comfortable in the rounded benched nook, Ristaron placed his feet on the chair across from the table, the back of it to the pub.
"So, you are here."
Ristaron lifted his eyes to see the face of the newcommer. The man slid into the settle and sat on the bench.
"Do you have it?" the voice was thin, but determined. Ristaron produced a coin from the inside of his cloak, and lay it on the table casually. The other man slowly reached out and grabbed it. After examining it for several moments, pouring over the details for any discrepancy, he took a small pouch from the inside of his cloak, and tossed it at the Ranger. Catching it deftly from the air with a gloved hand, Ristaron opened the bag a small crack, and closed it, satisfied with the contents.
"One thing before you go", Ristaron said, seeing the man about to slide out and away. "Where did you get this?"
"The artifact's origins are unimportant to me, I am only the middle-man." The man caught his breath as he felt a dangerously sharp scimitar trace his neck.
"You and I both know that's not true", Ristaron whispered, his voice hot like poison. "I want to know where you obtained the piece."
The man considered it for a few moments before he whispered two words.
"The catacombs."
Removing the scimitar from the man's neck, Ristaron bade him leave.
As this occured, a brawl broke out in another part of the tavern, and Ristaron decided it was time to call it a night. Silently slipping up the stairs beside the secluded seating area he had occupied all day, Ristaron made his way down the hall and to the room on the right, number forty-five. Unlocking it with his golden key, labelled appropriately, he closed and locked the oak portal behind him.
Then he threw down his hood for the first time since the morning when he set off, letting his long white hair free, contrasting the dark ebon skin that covered his body. From these markings alone, anyone could distinguish him as a mountainfolk, a race living in the foothills of the South Shiverpeaks, as well as camps high in the mountains and several cities in the jungles below them, on the opposing side of the high-planed Kingdom of Ascalon.
A race of warlike reputation, Ristaron travelled in secrecy all over the kingdom.
((OOC: I know the look is kind of conned off the 'Drow', but really, the mountainfolk are otherwise entirely my creation
))
Comfortably seated in a private settle in the back of the tavern, Ristaron scanned the place again with dark midnight eyes from beneath a deep hood. His contact had not hinted any time for the meeting, Ristaron had been sitting in the same place all day.
And all night as well most likely, he thought. The stocky bartender came around once more, eyeing Ristaron crudely again. Though the shadows hid the man's features, the bartender still sensed secrecy from the traveller. The worn cloak, the leather gloves he wore, the grass-stained clothes he wore - no doubt overtop a padded-leather cuirass. The most puzzling, and potentially disturbing part of the stranger were the whisps of dull white hair visible beneath the hood, in the dying light of a candle on the round table before the man.
"Another ale, sir?" the pubmaster asked.
"No, thank you", Ristaron replied quietly. The three mugs he had emptied since arrival sat lonesomely on the oak table. "May I inquire as to the time?" he added after the bartender, who turned.
"Dusk is nearly gone, I reckon it's nearly ten."
"Thank you. Has anybody come asking for Goloth?"
Ristaron had asked this upon arrival, the answer remained the same.
"No, not to my knowledge."
"Thank you", Ristaron said again. The stocky man turned to leave again, but turned back to the weathered Ranger.
"Just so ye haven't fergotten, sir, yer room is on the second floor, end of the hall, to the right."
"Yes, thank you."
Shifting to remain comfortable in the rounded benched nook, Ristaron placed his feet on the chair across from the table, the back of it to the pub.
"So, you are here."
Ristaron lifted his eyes to see the face of the newcommer. The man slid into the settle and sat on the bench.
"Do you have it?" the voice was thin, but determined. Ristaron produced a coin from the inside of his cloak, and lay it on the table casually. The other man slowly reached out and grabbed it. After examining it for several moments, pouring over the details for any discrepancy, he took a small pouch from the inside of his cloak, and tossed it at the Ranger. Catching it deftly from the air with a gloved hand, Ristaron opened the bag a small crack, and closed it, satisfied with the contents.
"One thing before you go", Ristaron said, seeing the man about to slide out and away. "Where did you get this?"
"The artifact's origins are unimportant to me, I am only the middle-man." The man caught his breath as he felt a dangerously sharp scimitar trace his neck.
"You and I both know that's not true", Ristaron whispered, his voice hot like poison. "I want to know where you obtained the piece."
The man considered it for a few moments before he whispered two words.
"The catacombs."
Removing the scimitar from the man's neck, Ristaron bade him leave.
As this occured, a brawl broke out in another part of the tavern, and Ristaron decided it was time to call it a night. Silently slipping up the stairs beside the secluded seating area he had occupied all day, Ristaron made his way down the hall and to the room on the right, number forty-five. Unlocking it with his golden key, labelled appropriately, he closed and locked the oak portal behind him.
Then he threw down his hood for the first time since the morning when he set off, letting his long white hair free, contrasting the dark ebon skin that covered his body. From these markings alone, anyone could distinguish him as a mountainfolk, a race living in the foothills of the South Shiverpeaks, as well as camps high in the mountains and several cities in the jungles below them, on the opposing side of the high-planed Kingdom of Ascalon.
A race of warlike reputation, Ristaron travelled in secrecy all over the kingdom.
((OOC: I know the look is kind of conned off the 'Drow', but really, the mountainfolk are otherwise entirely my creation
))
Symeon
ooc: *bump*
Yeah I was just looking a long way back and thought...this is a cool thread...
As well as writing in the Bio thread, to create a kind of roleplaying community here you could introduce yourselves at this inn.
Ok?
/ooc
Yeah I was just looking a long way back and thought...this is a cool thread...
As well as writing in the Bio thread, to create a kind of roleplaying community here you could introduce yourselves at this inn.
Ok?
/ooc
Devorian
Devorian strode into the tavern and brushed the dust from his his cloak. After his journey in the wilds he felt that a nice dwarven ale would cool his parched throat. He looked around the room at the eclectic variation of people that sat there, he noticed several rather dark and shifty looking charcters, a person sitting with three attractive girls in the back corner, a ranger at the bar drinking water with overpriced dry ice at his feet, and a small 8 year old child asking for beer. Devorian gave the group a last glance over and turned and left, perhaps some nice all natural water from a mountain stream far away from here would suit him just fine.
doinchi
Doinchi Icewind
Dervish/Necromancer
Doinchi Icewind strode into the dark and damp inn. A young man's dark face was just visible under a midnight black cowl. He carried a scythe made of a metal so black it seemed like a hole in the universe. He seemed to chill the air he walked through. He was no doubt Elonian, an exiled Elonian to be more specific. He did not care. No doubt Elonia would need him again in troubled times like these. He smiled, for the first time in weeks, at this thought. He ordered a stout from the barmaid and found himself a seat in the corner and began observe the inn's unique patrons. As the barmaid served the man's stout she could'nt help but notice the odd markings on the scythes blade, they were a language she had seen in ancient tombs that her father once showed her. Almost as if he realised, Doinchi Icewind hid the scythes blade and smiled.
Dervish/Necromancer
Doinchi Icewind strode into the dark and damp inn. A young man's dark face was just visible under a midnight black cowl. He carried a scythe made of a metal so black it seemed like a hole in the universe. He seemed to chill the air he walked through. He was no doubt Elonian, an exiled Elonian to be more specific. He did not care. No doubt Elonia would need him again in troubled times like these. He smiled, for the first time in weeks, at this thought. He ordered a stout from the barmaid and found himself a seat in the corner and began observe the inn's unique patrons. As the barmaid served the man's stout she could'nt help but notice the odd markings on the scythes blade, they were a language she had seen in ancient tombs that her father once showed her. Almost as if he realised, Doinchi Icewind hid the scythes blade and smiled.
RAMONES RULE!!!!
Drake pushed silently through the doors of the dilapidatded old tavern, his heavy, dusty platemail boots creaking on the old boards. every eye instantly turned to this newcomer taking his battle- scarred armor and tatterd cloak, summit axe, prised from the dead fingers of the stone summit king himself, hanging at the ready, the blood stains all to obvious and the massive longbow slung on his back with a quiver full of broad tipped arrows right next to it. but most of all they noticed the grusome but wonderous necklace around his neck, it was made from the trophies of the most fearsome beasts and men he had faced and killed: the teeth of bonfaz burntfur, a dragon fang from glint herself and the twisted heart of a skeletal dragon.
he walked slowly to a table where he could put his back to the wall and wrapped removed his helmet revealing his long black hair and peircing eyes of deep blue. looking to make an example of this newcomer, a drunk guard by the name of alphaeus drew big brute sword and, egged on by his fellow guards, advanced on the stranger. seeing what alphaeus comming towards him, drake drew his long hunting knife from its sheath and laied down his bow.
alphaeus charged and drake caught the massive sword with the edge of hi knife sending the bewildered alphues reeling towards the far wall. drake spun and in one quick manouver threw the knife across the room and hit alphaeus hilt first in the head cracking his skull and putting him out cold. enraged by the newcomers audacity alphaeus's friends drew their own weapons and rushed at drake.
cooly drake drew his summit axe and turned to face the onrushing guards. he hit the first one in the side witha wide side hand cut to the chest, blood spurted along his axe , and he hit the next one with a lighting fast overhand to the head, knocking him unconcious, he came at the last one pounding his defence with a flurry of deadly blows finally breaking through and severing his head.
with all eyes on him again he trned and walked out of the bar and onto the next town, and never did he one look back.
he walked slowly to a table where he could put his back to the wall and wrapped removed his helmet revealing his long black hair and peircing eyes of deep blue. looking to make an example of this newcomer, a drunk guard by the name of alphaeus drew big brute sword and, egged on by his fellow guards, advanced on the stranger. seeing what alphaeus comming towards him, drake drew his long hunting knife from its sheath and laied down his bow.
alphaeus charged and drake caught the massive sword with the edge of hi knife sending the bewildered alphues reeling towards the far wall. drake spun and in one quick manouver threw the knife across the room and hit alphaeus hilt first in the head cracking his skull and putting him out cold. enraged by the newcomers audacity alphaeus's friends drew their own weapons and rushed at drake.
cooly drake drew his summit axe and turned to face the onrushing guards. he hit the first one in the side witha wide side hand cut to the chest, blood spurted along his axe , and he hit the next one with a lighting fast overhand to the head, knocking him unconcious, he came at the last one pounding his defence with a flurry of deadly blows finally breaking through and severing his head.
with all eyes on him again he trned and walked out of the bar and onto the next town, and never did he one look back.
Ron vo
He was twirling his daggers with such ease as if to impress the gamblers sitting at the table,he looked on with no expression at the inn door awaiting his next client,the door has burst open like a blast furface a shadowy firgure stepped in with a mask,Reno Strike,one of the many Luxon rangers that dropped from the imperial army,he was the in the top regament one of most elite positions in the army,he was retired due to his lack of taking orders from superiors,The assassins accomplice in a way. He walked toward the assassin,his face showing more as he approached him.The assassin looked up to him as if to know him for years
"So Reno..."he said coldly,"How did the recon go? spy any kurzick dogs or merchants?My daggers are getting rusty from the lack of combat"."Shindo...*sigh*" he said with a deep breath,"You know we cant kill the merchants for the hell of it,its not right...besides it would be a waste of time"
Shindo responded quickly"Just like the conversation?just like this JOB?"he said it harsh but in a quiet voice."No shindo...this job is all we can get until those kurzicks get more jade in from the excavations at the quarry."Reno was the more informed of the two in terms of the commerce amoung the luxons.
"Jade quarry has been slow since those heroes all went to aspendwood,"he flung his dagger mid-air"BUT WE NEED A JOB NOW BEFORE WE END UP ON THE STREETS LIKE THOSE BEGGARS"he caught it and stabbed in onto the table startling all the gamblers.
"..."with no expression reno passed a small peice of paper slightly damp of the rain,he slipped it across the table to shindo.
Shindo's eyes widened as if he had seen a ghost"Is this?...."
"Yes"Reno said"Are you ready for this?"
Shindo grasped his daggers with fury in his eyes"Born ready my friend"He looked outside past reno...
Prepare for more...would like some replies please
"So Reno..."he said coldly,"How did the recon go? spy any kurzick dogs or merchants?My daggers are getting rusty from the lack of combat"."Shindo...*sigh*" he said with a deep breath,"You know we cant kill the merchants for the hell of it,its not right...besides it would be a waste of time"
Shindo responded quickly"Just like the conversation?just like this JOB?"he said it harsh but in a quiet voice."No shindo...this job is all we can get until those kurzicks get more jade in from the excavations at the quarry."Reno was the more informed of the two in terms of the commerce amoung the luxons.
"Jade quarry has been slow since those heroes all went to aspendwood,"he flung his dagger mid-air"BUT WE NEED A JOB NOW BEFORE WE END UP ON THE STREETS LIKE THOSE BEGGARS"he caught it and stabbed in onto the table startling all the gamblers.
"..."with no expression reno passed a small peice of paper slightly damp of the rain,he slipped it across the table to shindo.
Shindo's eyes widened as if he had seen a ghost"Is this?...."
"Yes"Reno said"Are you ready for this?"
Shindo grasped his daggers with fury in his eyes"Born ready my friend"He looked outside past reno...
Prepare for more...would like some replies please
Kate
Her silver armour glinted in the moonlight, her cape blowed behind her, her Scepter firmly in her hand...
She was attacked from behind by an assassin, she smirked at him and he was knocked off his feet by a blazing fireball...
She rolled her eyes and walked towards the inn, before she was jumped by a whole group of different proffessions, she used her fire to cast a blazing inferno around her, and sent a scorching phoenix after them, but the foe's elementalists put out her fire...
She swore under her breath and it wasn't long before she was bleeding, a large deep cut across her stomach, she was mugged...
She dragged herself to the door of the inn and collapsed there, knocking once before she did...
She was attacked from behind by an assassin, she smirked at him and he was knocked off his feet by a blazing fireball...
She rolled her eyes and walked towards the inn, before she was jumped by a whole group of different proffessions, she used her fire to cast a blazing inferno around her, and sent a scorching phoenix after them, but the foe's elementalists put out her fire...
She swore under her breath and it wasn't long before she was bleeding, a large deep cut across her stomach, she was mugged...
She dragged herself to the door of the inn and collapsed there, knocking once before she did...
Minus Sign
"Warmer than Yak's Bend," Minus mumbled to himself as he squeezed through the window. The door was in such steady use, the window seemed prefferable. Besides, what fun was life when you took the path most travelled?
Sitting on the mantle--careful not to catch his feet on fire with the roaring blaze below--he pulled out a single coin and began flipping it with idle care, waiting for the serving wench to notice and serve him.
It wouldn't take too long he hoped. There were hours to go before the night grew too long, and a days fighting ahead to cure any hangover.
(OOC=Out of Character right?)
Sitting on the mantle--careful not to catch his feet on fire with the roaring blaze below--he pulled out a single coin and began flipping it with idle care, waiting for the serving wench to notice and serve him.
It wouldn't take too long he hoped. There were hours to go before the night grew too long, and a days fighting ahead to cure any hangover.
(OOC=Out of Character right?)
Kate
(OOC: Yes)
Queenie
The sea was calm and gentle, the boat swayed side to side but maintaining course. She sat there looking out to sea huming a sweet melody. The moon hung low casting a silver reflection on the sea. The boat moved gently to the dock and she climbed off the boat thanking the captain. The streets were bright and people were out and about, merchants were offering all they had to the passerbyers, the yaks groaned and complaid, she smiled and walked down the busy street. She spotted an Inn and quickend her pace, it was getting abit cold.
She enterd the inn, all kind of proffesions were there chatting and laughing away she noticed a few paladins having an armwrestle she giggled and sat herself down and orderd an ale.
She enterd the inn, all kind of proffesions were there chatting and laughing away she noticed a few paladins having an armwrestle she giggled and sat herself down and orderd an ale.
frozen_pain
alias: Richard
location: U.S
level: beginner
new to this game. got it less than a month ago. playing Guild Wars: Faction
location: U.S
level: beginner
new to this game. got it less than a month ago. playing Guild Wars: Faction
Storm Crow
(Boredom, sheer boredom)
She sighed, pushing her hair back slightly and settling further into a slouch on her stool at the bar. Nothing happened here much anymore, but that was fine with her, she esteemed the old place. She spun her mug around by the handle, smiling lightly and laughing a bit.
"'Ello, miss." A pretty little woman with her brunette locks tied back in plaits started, a smile perched upon her lips. Her accent was slightly Deldrimorian, as if she'd spent a bit too much time around the Dwarves. She sounded tired. "Can I gitchyou anythin'?"
"What's you're strongest?" The woman on the opposite side of the bar asked, turning her head up to look at the barrels beneath the bar.
"That'll be our dark ale, I'm sure you won't be wantin' to be drinkin' that at this time ah night."
"No, I'll take whatever's the weaker below that."
The waitress shook her head, exhaling and casting her eyes to the floor. She took the mug and filled it up again. setting it back on the bar and taking the twelve gold peices that had been laid there. The woman thanked her before taking a gulp and sliding off the stool, walking toward the set of stairs behind her.
"Don't be staying up too late, Lyssie." The woman called back to the barmaid, smiling.
"Oh, dunchyou be worryin' 'bout that, now. Head off to bed, yerself, miss."
"I'll bring this back to you in the morning, then." She raised her glass.
"I'll leave a place for it, miss."
"Thanks. Good night, Lyssie."
"You, too, miss."
She continued on up the stairs, treading lightly over the cracks in the old floorboards. Lyssie was a nice girl. She deserved much more than to work for a few measly pieces of gold in an inn that hardly anyone visited anymore.
She sighed, pushing her hair back slightly and settling further into a slouch on her stool at the bar. Nothing happened here much anymore, but that was fine with her, she esteemed the old place. She spun her mug around by the handle, smiling lightly and laughing a bit.
"'Ello, miss." A pretty little woman with her brunette locks tied back in plaits started, a smile perched upon her lips. Her accent was slightly Deldrimorian, as if she'd spent a bit too much time around the Dwarves. She sounded tired. "Can I gitchyou anythin'?"
"What's you're strongest?" The woman on the opposite side of the bar asked, turning her head up to look at the barrels beneath the bar.
"That'll be our dark ale, I'm sure you won't be wantin' to be drinkin' that at this time ah night."
"No, I'll take whatever's the weaker below that."
The waitress shook her head, exhaling and casting her eyes to the floor. She took the mug and filled it up again. setting it back on the bar and taking the twelve gold peices that had been laid there. The woman thanked her before taking a gulp and sliding off the stool, walking toward the set of stairs behind her.
"Don't be staying up too late, Lyssie." The woman called back to the barmaid, smiling.
"Oh, dunchyou be worryin' 'bout that, now. Head off to bed, yerself, miss."
"I'll bring this back to you in the morning, then." She raised her glass.
"I'll leave a place for it, miss."
"Thanks. Good night, Lyssie."
"You, too, miss."
She continued on up the stairs, treading lightly over the cracks in the old floorboards. Lyssie was a nice girl. She deserved much more than to work for a few measly pieces of gold in an inn that hardly anyone visited anymore.
doinchi
((OOC)) Can we introduce a fight in the bar? Or is this strictly to introduce our RP character only.