The Unknown: A Game of Fear, Ignorance, and Adventure
- Thread starter Zemalac
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I'm sorry too, I just got carried away there. Don't worry though, it will start soon.Dragonrabbit said:
Oh, and Zem, take as long as you like. This is, as I have said before, definatly the most thought out RP I've been in, and you don't want to ruin it by speeding things up in the last minute and cutting corners.
Bit bad timing, as we're close to starting and Zemalac has had to work extremely hard sorting everything out. Wait till Zemalac comes back and he'll tell you..Multi-Kill said:
Into the Unknown they stride
Bold and strong and tall
A thousand secrets riding hard
A thousand lies to tell.
One has fled
And one pursues
One must hide
And one must seek.
One has no soul
One has many
Both must kill
To remain whole.
One speaks for Death
And one is Death
And one knows not the plan;
One shall wield the killer's dart
And one shall die in vain.
One shall fight for mad beliefs
And one shall betray all:
One shall speak with a dead man's voice
And one is doomed to fall.
One shall slay on golden dreams
And one on nightmares pure;
One shall blaze a gem-specked trail,
And one shall heed the lure.
One shall walk a path of lies
And one shall burn the truth
One shall see too little too late
And none shall escape the noose.
Lies and secrets and portents dire
And a man who knows too much
Into the Unknown, where you shall find
The Reaper Man's grim touch.
Bold and strong and tall
A thousand secrets riding hard
A thousand lies to tell.
One has fled
And one pursues
One must hide
And one must seek.
One has no soul
One has many
Both must kill
To remain whole.
One speaks for Death
And one is Death
And one knows not the plan;
One shall wield the killer's dart
And one shall die in vain.
One shall fight for mad beliefs
And one shall betray all:
One shall speak with a dead man's voice
And one is doomed to fall.
One shall slay on golden dreams
And one on nightmares pure;
One shall blaze a gem-specked trail,
And one shall heed the lure.
One shall walk a path of lies
And one shall burn the truth
One shall see too little too late
And none shall escape the noose.
Lies and secrets and portents dire
And a man who knows too much
Into the Unknown, where you shall find
The Reaper Man's grim touch.
The tavern was crowded, patrons jostling for any surface to sit on or to set down their drinks. The barkeep was happy for the business, but the crowd was beginning to make him nervous. This many adventurous men in this confined a space always, without fail, led to a brawl. It was a rule of bartending that he knew well, and this crowd had reached critical mass some time ago.
Ye gods...there were mages in this crowd. The barkeep closed his eyes for a moment and sent off a quick prayer. Mages were the worst to have in a brawl. They'd set everything on fire and then refuse to pay for anything. His only hope now was if half of them decided to leave all of a sudden, and that wasn't likely to happen seeing as they were all here with a purpose.
A sound on the stairs drew his attention. The barkeep tensed. If there wasn't a riot within five minutes he would be the most surprised man in the world.
Tyrone Deslock certainly wasn't going to help matters.
"All right you lot!" he shouted from the stairway. "Shut up and pay attention!" When that didn't work he jumped from the stairs, slamming both feet into the middle of a table, which miraculously failed to collapse. The barkeep winced.
Bit by gradual bit the tavern quieted enough that Deslock could shout down anyone still talking.
"If you're here for the Grand Expedition, pay attention now because I won't be going over this twice!" he shouted. That managed to grab everyone elses undivided attention like the shouted orders hadn't. The tavern turned to watch Deslock, silent except for the whispers and the creaking chairs.
"That's better," the explorer said in a more normal tone of voice. The men sitting at the table he was standing on edged back a little.
"If you're here now, I assume you want to join the Expedition," he continued, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the murmur of affirmatives. "Unfortunately for some of you, not all of you will be going. I'd like to take as many people as possible, if only to stand between me and bullets, but the ship has a weight limit or some such bullshit so all you fat people are going to get left behind." He paced across the table as he talked, laying down a pattern of bootprints in the spilled beer. "I've got a list of names me and a few scribes put together. If you're on the list, you're going. If I don't call your name, go and drown your sorrows elsewhere." He drew a worryingly small piece of paper from his pocket and squinted at it for a moment.
"If I call your name, you can stay," he began. "Mareck Nonovan, Jakob No-Last-Name, Derlan Also-No-Last-Name, Raven Del Cid, Yoiss Fairhidr, Jacien Criver, Garril Rasput, Gris Axthorn, Marneus Calgar, Tiber Lacking-Last-Name, Reeko Jalbrook, Ticky-Unpronounceable-Gnomish-Name the Third, Alexis Moonspear, and Ko'el." He rolled up the paper and stuck it back in his pocket. It took the crowd a moment to realize that he was finished, and then it erupted into pandemonium.
Fortunately for the tavern furniture those adventurers who were going managed to subdue those who weren't in short order and send them packing. Deslock waited for the fight to finish with, if not patience, than at least with resigned acceptance.
Once the last unwanted had been booted out the door and the barkeep had put away his cosh, Deslock resumed speaking. "I've got a few things I'd like to go over before you go and grab your stuff or visit your favorite whorehouse or whatever it is you people do before leaving on long journeys like this."
He paced on the table as he spoke, back and forth through the trails of beer. "First of all, you ought to know that this isn't all of you. A few more people will be joining us either before we set sail tomorrow or when we stop in Tyb for our final batch of supplies." He flicked one of his fingers, as though counting something off a numbered list.
"Also, all you painted elves, know this: I will not tolerate any of your taboo-switching bullshit or any of your little 'jokes.' If you do something that you find amusing but I do not, I will shoot you in the face. It will be hilarious." He glared around the room, and nobody spoke.
"Ice elves!" he roared suddenly, making everyone jump. "I will not be your personal valet! Provide your own damn cooling!"
"And to everyone else, if you give me one reason to leave you behind, I will do so. I don't care if it happens to be in an active volcano, if you piss me off you're being left there."
"And I think that covers everything. Be at the docks tomorrow at nine, because that's when we're leaving. You have until then to gather your belongings and kiss known soil goodbye, because we're going into the absolute, pitch-black unknown."
Deslock stepped down from the table and started packing a pipe with tobacco. The adventurers in the room either returned to their conversations, quieter now, or slipped out with last-minute business in mind. On the morrow the Expedition would leave and life would get a lot more interesting.
Into the Unknown, gentlemen, for better or for worse.
Game Begins said:
Marneus Calgar stood amongst the band of adventurers, listening to conversations for any signifigant information. He was already using all his self-restraint to keep from going on a bloody rampage due to the large amount of nonhumans. After ascertaining that no useful information could be found, he snuck out the door. Walking over to the stable, he was given view of his warhorse encased in nigh-unimpenetrable armor, much like himself.
Saddling up on his horse Veneratio, he headed off to an inn far enough away to ensure privacy from the other expedition members. Upon arrival, he guided Veneratio into the stables and headed inside. Walking up to the innkeep, he spoke "I am in need of a room for the night." the keep nodded "That will be five gold for the night sir." Handing him the coins, Marneus narrowed his eyes. "I am not to be disturbed for any reason." "Yes sir." the keep replied, handing him his room key. Marneus climbed the stairs, and entered his room, locking the door behind him.
Saddling up on his horse Veneratio, he headed off to an inn far enough away to ensure privacy from the other expedition members. Upon arrival, he guided Veneratio into the stables and headed inside. Walking up to the innkeep, he spoke "I am in need of a room for the night." the keep nodded "That will be five gold for the night sir." Handing him the coins, Marneus narrowed his eyes. "I am not to be disturbed for any reason." "Yes sir." the keep replied, handing him his room key. Marneus climbed the stairs, and entered his room, locking the door behind him.
How was that?
One man had failed to so much as look up at the great Explorer Deslock. An Orc, scraggly in appearance even for an Orc. Thick dreadlocks of hair knotted and wrapped hanging of his pale greenish scalp. A beard, similar in appearance to his filth hair grew long from his face as well. he simply stared into his glass while cinders from his cigar drifted down onto the table.
Despite his lack luster personal hygiene his clothing was in surprising condition. The metal studs on his leather armor were polished to a blinding sheen and the leather itself was well cured and taught. The blades of his axes were in similar conditions, the single edge sharpened to a razors edge. Men sitting near him looked at their drinks and tried to keep their backs to him, a few even placed their hands above their heads. he kept staring at his drink, a deep blood red, the color of life. Placed on the table in front of him was a large metal flask, gleaming even in the dim bar light. It's neck was long and it's base large, holding the appearance more akin to a morning star than anything meant to hold liquid. The very tops of the necks of several more could been seen poking out of the top of his large back pack, just behind the handles of his axes.
He remained quiet and as Deslock left, Garril began to think.
'Well shit, seems like my kind of guy.
I knew I was going to like this Deslock guy from the first time I read about him. As for my other traveling 'companions' they seemed a fair lot. I'll need to keep my eyes on the ones that don't have any last names. No doubt there's some kind of conspiracy between them... I'll keep my eye on them.
It's times like these I remember why I work alone, and drink alone for that matter. Could this bar be any more crowded? I'm down to my last cigar here, the stogy smolders between my teeth, a fraction of it's former roaring pyre. Maybe I can pick up some more later.
Not important now though, I'm in the fire here. I need to watch my back. Whatever it is that happens out here, I can't let myself fail, not so long as I live and breath. I will show them, they will finally respect me and I will get the recognition I deserve.'
The Orc downed his drink and tossed the glass at the bar tender, who ducked out of the way with amusing agility. He then drank the rest of the red liquid swirling in the objects basin and used it to crack the table that Deslock had been standing on messily in half. Grinning to reveal row after row of snaggly white fangs, he left quietly and began to head for the docks.
He roared over his shoulder through hearty laughter, "What a way to start and adventure!"
Despite his lack luster personal hygiene his clothing was in surprising condition. The metal studs on his leather armor were polished to a blinding sheen and the leather itself was well cured and taught. The blades of his axes were in similar conditions, the single edge sharpened to a razors edge. Men sitting near him looked at their drinks and tried to keep their backs to him, a few even placed their hands above their heads. he kept staring at his drink, a deep blood red, the color of life. Placed on the table in front of him was a large metal flask, gleaming even in the dim bar light. It's neck was long and it's base large, holding the appearance more akin to a morning star than anything meant to hold liquid. The very tops of the necks of several more could been seen poking out of the top of his large back pack, just behind the handles of his axes.
He remained quiet and as Deslock left, Garril began to think.
'Well shit, seems like my kind of guy.
I knew I was going to like this Deslock guy from the first time I read about him. As for my other traveling 'companions' they seemed a fair lot. I'll need to keep my eyes on the ones that don't have any last names. No doubt there's some kind of conspiracy between them... I'll keep my eye on them.
It's times like these I remember why I work alone, and drink alone for that matter. Could this bar be any more crowded? I'm down to my last cigar here, the stogy smolders between my teeth, a fraction of it's former roaring pyre. Maybe I can pick up some more later.
Not important now though, I'm in the fire here. I need to watch my back. Whatever it is that happens out here, I can't let myself fail, not so long as I live and breath. I will show them, they will finally respect me and I will get the recognition I deserve.'
The Orc downed his drink and tossed the glass at the bar tender, who ducked out of the way with amusing agility. He then drank the rest of the red liquid swirling in the objects basin and used it to crack the table that Deslock had been standing on messily in half. Grinning to reveal row after row of snaggly white fangs, he left quietly and began to head for the docks.
He roared over his shoulder through hearty laughter, "What a way to start and adventure!"
Derlan sat in the corner, as he did most of the time, no point in conversing with these... savages. The bar was very loud, the many patrons were awaiting to see if they had made it onto the ship. Derlan was nervous, yet confident he had made the cut, he was more then qualified.
"Bunch of savages these people are, no one Derlan wants to be friends with. Uh-uh, no one here to be friends with at all."
Derlan spotted a nice spoon on the table across from him his eyes widened, the man was eating and Derlan had to wait.
"Alright you lot! Shut up and pay attention!" yelled the renowned Tyrone Deslock. The man across from Derlan spun his head in the direction of the voice. Derlan quickly slid from his table and went to the table across from him. He swiped the spoon and slunk back to his table, admiring his find with a look of pure joy on his face.
"Hehe, a very nice spoon indeed. What a lovely find!" Derlan mumbled as he placed the spoon in his pocket.
He listened to Tyrone's speech, it was abrasive, angry and no nonsense. Derlan was waiting for the names to be called out,
"Mareck Nonovan, Jakob No-Last-Name, Derlan Also-No-Last-Name-"
Derlan heard his name, he stopped paying attention, he went back to admiring his spoon.
After the speech was over, the patrons either groaned or cheered, they all went back to their meals to finish up before they were kicked out.
"Hey! Wheres my spoon?!"
"Bunch of savages these people are, no one Derlan wants to be friends with. Uh-uh, no one here to be friends with at all."
Derlan spotted a nice spoon on the table across from him his eyes widened, the man was eating and Derlan had to wait.
"Alright you lot! Shut up and pay attention!" yelled the renowned Tyrone Deslock. The man across from Derlan spun his head in the direction of the voice. Derlan quickly slid from his table and went to the table across from him. He swiped the spoon and slunk back to his table, admiring his find with a look of pure joy on his face.
"Hehe, a very nice spoon indeed. What a lovely find!" Derlan mumbled as he placed the spoon in his pocket.
He listened to Tyrone's speech, it was abrasive, angry and no nonsense. Derlan was waiting for the names to be called out,
"Mareck Nonovan, Jakob No-Last-Name, Derlan Also-No-Last-Name-"
Derlan heard his name, he stopped paying attention, he went back to admiring his spoon.
After the speech was over, the patrons either groaned or cheered, they all went back to their meals to finish up before they were kicked out.
"Hey! Wheres my spoon?!"
First post?
Raven was one of the first to arrive at the tavern, seating himself in a corner of the room and ordering a pint, he pulled out a long pipe from within his traveling cloak and began puffing on it contently. This should be interesting! was his first reaction when he saw the room gradually fill up with men, elves, gnomes, dwarves, orcs and other races that came in answer to a call set out by the famed explorer. "It seems this Tyrone Deslock fellow likes to attract a crowd" he muttered to himself between puffs while studying the crowd slowly. "No matter, the more the merrier!" he nodded as if he had fallen asleep. The wait may have been long but the host did not disappoint Raven's expectation. He was everything that Raven had imagined the legendary explorer to be; confident in actions and speech, disciplined in manner and a no-nonsense attitude. It spoke volumes about his character; this was either a man that had nothing to lose and everything to gain or a man that had been recently stung by a fire ant and was in an exceptionally temperamental mood.
Raven let out a low grunt as his name was read out from the list. It appeared that he had made it through the explorer's sorting system, whatever that process entailed, probably involved a set of darts and names on pieces of paper. He took one long puff from his pipe before putting it out and finished his pint. The meeting was over, he had his instructions. Docks, tomorrow, Nine. He got up silently and made his way to the barkeep. "Keep the change" he mumbled tossing a few coins on the counter top. With a final look at the fellow adventures he departed the tavern and turned Eastwards. He pulled a small book and quill from within his traveling cloak and began to write as he walked.
Raven's Journal, 22nd night
Conclusion of Tavern Meeting. 1 day before departure.
It would seem that I have successfully made it onto Tyrone Deslock's expedition. He is an energetic and pragmatic man who displays the qualities of a born leader but sadly, he does radiate the warmth and personality of a wet duck. I might have to re-consider the latter for it would be unfair on my part to judge someone as renowned as Tyrone Deslock as quickly as I did but, as far as first impressions go, I am happy. Maybe it's because I see a bit of his characteristics in myself?. Perhaps!. It cannot be denied that the man is confident and competent and that is to be expected from a man who is leading an expedition onto uncharted lands.
As for my fellow companions, well, that remains to be seen. I have intentionally chosen not to linger in the area, not because I am not curious about them but because in such a setting I may lose my temper faster than I could compose myself, I shudder to recall the last expedition that I undertook where I lost my temper.....Yes, well..I think it's best that I start off on the right foot with everybody this time around. Perhaps tomorrow in a more calming setting I shall be content enough to make the appropriate introductions.
As for accommodation, I am heading to the Wilkinson's Farm, a place I visited once through my previous travels. I have made arrangements for my stay in their guest room for the night. Tomorrow I set sail on the voyage into the unknown. Let's see what the future holds.
~RDC
Raven had arrived at a low wooden gate. The sign that hung on a nearby post rocked gently on the evening breeze, creaking loudly as it did. The sign read: Wilkinson Farms: Winners of the 83rd Annual Eggplant eating championships. He sighed to himself as he silently made his way past the gate and along the path leading to the main building. This was his overnight halt. "Joyous!" he retorted.
Raven let out a low grunt as his name was read out from the list. It appeared that he had made it through the explorer's sorting system, whatever that process entailed, probably involved a set of darts and names on pieces of paper. He took one long puff from his pipe before putting it out and finished his pint. The meeting was over, he had his instructions. Docks, tomorrow, Nine. He got up silently and made his way to the barkeep. "Keep the change" he mumbled tossing a few coins on the counter top. With a final look at the fellow adventures he departed the tavern and turned Eastwards. He pulled a small book and quill from within his traveling cloak and began to write as he walked.
Raven's Journal, 22nd night
Conclusion of Tavern Meeting. 1 day before departure.
It would seem that I have successfully made it onto Tyrone Deslock's expedition. He is an energetic and pragmatic man who displays the qualities of a born leader but sadly, he does radiate the warmth and personality of a wet duck. I might have to re-consider the latter for it would be unfair on my part to judge someone as renowned as Tyrone Deslock as quickly as I did but, as far as first impressions go, I am happy. Maybe it's because I see a bit of his characteristics in myself?. Perhaps!. It cannot be denied that the man is confident and competent and that is to be expected from a man who is leading an expedition onto uncharted lands.
As for my fellow companions, well, that remains to be seen. I have intentionally chosen not to linger in the area, not because I am not curious about them but because in such a setting I may lose my temper faster than I could compose myself, I shudder to recall the last expedition that I undertook where I lost my temper.....Yes, well..I think it's best that I start off on the right foot with everybody this time around. Perhaps tomorrow in a more calming setting I shall be content enough to make the appropriate introductions.
As for accommodation, I am heading to the Wilkinson's Farm, a place I visited once through my previous travels. I have made arrangements for my stay in their guest room for the night. Tomorrow I set sail on the voyage into the unknown. Let's see what the future holds.
~RDC
Raven had arrived at a low wooden gate. The sign that hung on a nearby post rocked gently on the evening breeze, creaking loudly as it did. The sign read: Wilkinson Farms: Winners of the 83rd Annual Eggplant eating championships. He sighed to himself as he silently made his way past the gate and along the path leading to the main building. This was his overnight halt. "Joyous!" he retorted.
Ko'el sat at the bar, nursing a nice cool drink. Slouched slightly with his cane sitting across his lap. The Bartender came to freshen his drink and said, "Hey old man, didn't you here Deslock said to get out,".
"Oh, I'm in the expedition he called my name, Ko'el, so maybe you shouldn't be so quick to count someone like me out,"
"I'm sure what's, Deslock going to do with and ice elf fossil like you?"
"Oh no I'm not a worker, I'm representing several businesses who want me to estimate the economic value of the Unknown,"
"Well then I guess you'll need a place for the night?"
"Thanks for offering but I already have a room at one of the guild halls." Ko'el finished his drink and began to make his way hobbling slowly down the street.
"Oh, I'm in the expedition he called my name, Ko'el, so maybe you shouldn't be so quick to count someone like me out,"
"I'm sure what's, Deslock going to do with and ice elf fossil like you?"
"Oh no I'm not a worker, I'm representing several businesses who want me to estimate the economic value of the Unknown,"
"Well then I guess you'll need a place for the night?"
"Thanks for offering but I already have a room at one of the guild halls." Ko'el finished his drink and began to make his way hobbling slowly down the street.
Alexis waited till the crowd had cleared before noticeably clearing his throat. He was hardly the center of attention even when Tyrone Deslock was not present but for once he did not mind. Alexis was looking forward to this new adventure, a new land awaited them over the horizon, new possibilities. If only they were going about this on an airship. He sighed, half in despair that his drink had run dry and half in contentment of the charged and tense atmosphere that hung inside the tavern. Everyone seemed to be busy with their own thoughts and plans.
His mind quickly diverted to the attention at hand. His fellow companions. Looking around he readily noticed an Orc. That was one thing Alexis knew that he wouldn't miss from his height. The sight of a big green orc was not something a sober dwarf could miss. Besides that, he strained from his chair to peer over the heads of other patrons to see the rest of the expedition members. He noticed a couple of Ice and painted elves and then some humans. Beyond that he could not strain enough to see. "Oh well!" he spoke to no one in particular with a shrug, "Introductions can wait until later, a frothing mug of ale though, is for now and forever" he smiled to himself as he waved a barmaid over. "Another round!" he bellowed.
His mind quickly diverted to the attention at hand. His fellow companions. Looking around he readily noticed an Orc. That was one thing Alexis knew that he wouldn't miss from his height. The sight of a big green orc was not something a sober dwarf could miss. Besides that, he strained from his chair to peer over the heads of other patrons to see the rest of the expedition members. He noticed a couple of Ice and painted elves and then some humans. Beyond that he could not strain enough to see. "Oh well!" he spoke to no one in particular with a shrug, "Introductions can wait until later, a frothing mug of ale though, is for now and forever" he smiled to himself as he waved a barmaid over. "Another round!" he bellowed.
Gris swaggered happily through the crowd of drunk, smelly people. It occured to him that there was a distinct absence of orcs around. Pity that - his English was terrible. He prefered the glottal stops of his native toungue, as humans didn't really understand them, it made conferring with his associates much easier. No eavesdroppers.
With his sickly green robes sawying around him, he stood at the bar, and yelled haughtily in a gruff accent "Drink man. Serve good alcohol." After three minutes of heated discussion, he finally got across that he wanted an expensive glass of ale, and paid with gold taken from a large money purse.
He sipped his drink absent-mindedly, more interested in eyeing up his future... comrades. He noticed things with a shrewd eye, namely a knight, a thief, an orc and a few other travellers, mainly disputing their choice of beverage with the greasy man behind the bar.
Grimacing with distaste at the number of elves in the tavern, he finished his drink, stood up and strutted over to the door, hiccuping as he went. Upon leaving the bar, he winced at the nipping cold, and stepped back in. He heard his name being called out. He grunted.
So, I've been accepted. I hope I won't have to fight too much. I don't like fighting.
His blade was a long, thin piece, made of the finest steel money can buy, or in this case, bankrupt and take as payment. He wasn't much of a fighter, but he could fence like a master, and his footwork wasn't bad.
Realising it would be a long night, he took a place by the fire, and took out a pipe. Perhaps the strong tobacco would clear the smog of elf scent from his area. He had never tried this local brand, and it burned quickly in the pit of the pipe, but it was good and very sharp on the palette. He continued to analyse the occupants of the bar, with a keen eye born of years of guessing people's thoughts.
Alcohol, alcohol, gambling, money, money, adventure, intercourse and... shoes?
With his sickly green robes sawying around him, he stood at the bar, and yelled haughtily in a gruff accent "Drink man. Serve good alcohol." After three minutes of heated discussion, he finally got across that he wanted an expensive glass of ale, and paid with gold taken from a large money purse.
He sipped his drink absent-mindedly, more interested in eyeing up his future... comrades. He noticed things with a shrewd eye, namely a knight, a thief, an orc and a few other travellers, mainly disputing their choice of beverage with the greasy man behind the bar.
Grimacing with distaste at the number of elves in the tavern, he finished his drink, stood up and strutted over to the door, hiccuping as he went. Upon leaving the bar, he winced at the nipping cold, and stepped back in. He heard his name being called out. He grunted.
So, I've been accepted. I hope I won't have to fight too much. I don't like fighting.
His blade was a long, thin piece, made of the finest steel money can buy, or in this case, bankrupt and take as payment. He wasn't much of a fighter, but he could fence like a master, and his footwork wasn't bad.
Realising it would be a long night, he took a place by the fire, and took out a pipe. Perhaps the strong tobacco would clear the smog of elf scent from his area. He had never tried this local brand, and it burned quickly in the pit of the pipe, but it was good and very sharp on the palette. He continued to analyse the occupants of the bar, with a keen eye born of years of guessing people's thoughts.
Alcohol, alcohol, gambling, money, money, adventure, intercourse and... shoes?
Meanwhile, a single man stood by the bar. On a stool. Just managing to reach his pint on the bar. This man, as it turned out, was Mareck Nonovan, and he had his excuses for his lack of height. If you pointed out his height to him you would soon regret it, as the barman found out two seconds after this description of him.
Mareck put down the glass and demanded another beer.
"Now, look here. I think you're a bit over your head to have another-"
Mareck turned to him "What did you say?"
"Uhh, nothing." but it was too late, as Mareck climbed onto the bar and threw himself at the bartender. He then grabbed his glass, and smashed it, splashing cheap yet strong ale all over the barman, the bar and Mareck's already dirty and stained clothes and beard, as well as his greasy, long, black hair, before shoving it before the man's neck. Following this, it took about two other people to get him off the barman.
"I'LL KILL YA! I'LL KILL YA, YOU STUPID BEER SERVING EEJIT LOWLIFE!"
He was then restrained and placed back on his seat. "YOU'RE DEAD! I'M TELLING YA, YOU'RE-" It was then that he was told to shut up by Deslock as information about the journey he signed up to go on was sent out by word of mouth to all the travellers in the pub. When he heard the words "Mareck Nonovan" called out, he cheered a little inside, to celebrate his chance for a change in his life.
[small]Yaay...[/small] Stop thinking to yourself and carry on listening... He listened to the orders given out, before heading straight back to his drink.
"Dude, why did you do that?" the barman said to Mareck.
"Sorry, sorry. I'm a bit drunk and am feeling a bit violent, as dwarves go usually."
"Oh, you're a dwarf?"
"Yes, thus why I was insulted by the whole short thing."
"Oh, my bad. Sorry for the whole-"
"Nah, it's okay. Ugh, may want another beer."
"The more, the merrier?"
"Yeah, especially if you're going off to risk your life the next day." He glanced round at the rest of this "crew" he was going to be with. He already had suspicions that people might attack him- thus the ale he was drinking, he needed something to drown that thought in. Whether or not one of them would pick him though as a combatant was questionable, but that guy would most definately regret it afterwards. He decided to throw the beer at his face, the dwarvish way of drinking, not caring how little of it gets in your mouth compared to how much gets on your shirt, face and beard.
He went on tip toes on the barstool, dropped the glass on the table, and demanded another one. "It's going to be a long night. Might as well make the most of it."
About five hours later and whilst the barman had his back turned, there was a large thud, as Mareck fell to the floor. About another thirty minutes later, Mareck was up again (Just), heaved himself up onto the stool and then heaved himself up so that he could reach the bar.
"Yeah, I think it's time I got a room..." he threw... some money onto the table, and passed out. Following that, the barman and a couple of other people carried him up to his room, where they left him fully dressed (Even still wearing shoes) on the bed and the bartender dropped the dwarf's change on the bedside table, before leaving him in peace for the rest of the night.
Mareck put down the glass and demanded another beer.
"Now, look here. I think you're a bit over your head to have another-"
Mareck turned to him "What did you say?"
"Uhh, nothing." but it was too late, as Mareck climbed onto the bar and threw himself at the bartender. He then grabbed his glass, and smashed it, splashing cheap yet strong ale all over the barman, the bar and Mareck's already dirty and stained clothes and beard, as well as his greasy, long, black hair, before shoving it before the man's neck. Following this, it took about two other people to get him off the barman.
"I'LL KILL YA! I'LL KILL YA, YOU STUPID BEER SERVING EEJIT LOWLIFE!"
He was then restrained and placed back on his seat. "YOU'RE DEAD! I'M TELLING YA, YOU'RE-" It was then that he was told to shut up by Deslock as information about the journey he signed up to go on was sent out by word of mouth to all the travellers in the pub. When he heard the words "Mareck Nonovan" called out, he cheered a little inside, to celebrate his chance for a change in his life.
[small]Yaay...[/small] Stop thinking to yourself and carry on listening... He listened to the orders given out, before heading straight back to his drink.
"Dude, why did you do that?" the barman said to Mareck.
"Sorry, sorry. I'm a bit drunk and am feeling a bit violent, as dwarves go usually."
"Oh, you're a dwarf?"
"Yes, thus why I was insulted by the whole short thing."
"Oh, my bad. Sorry for the whole-"
"Nah, it's okay. Ugh, may want another beer."
"The more, the merrier?"
"Yeah, especially if you're going off to risk your life the next day." He glanced round at the rest of this "crew" he was going to be with. He already had suspicions that people might attack him- thus the ale he was drinking, he needed something to drown that thought in. Whether or not one of them would pick him though as a combatant was questionable, but that guy would most definately regret it afterwards. He decided to throw the beer at his face, the dwarvish way of drinking, not caring how little of it gets in your mouth compared to how much gets on your shirt, face and beard.
He went on tip toes on the barstool, dropped the glass on the table, and demanded another one. "It's going to be a long night. Might as well make the most of it."
About five hours later and whilst the barman had his back turned, there was a large thud, as Mareck fell to the floor. About another thirty minutes later, Mareck was up again (Just), heaved himself up onto the stool and then heaved himself up so that he could reach the bar.
"Yeah, I think it's time I got a room..." he threw... some money onto the table, and passed out. Following that, the barman and a couple of other people carried him up to his room, where they left him fully dressed (Even still wearing shoes) on the bed and the bartender dropped the dwarf's change on the bedside table, before leaving him in peace for the rest of the night.
The bold text is other people talking.
"That's a fine suit you have." The waitress said. It was more a statement of fact than anything but, subtely hidden below the brevity, there were thin tones of careful curiosity. She held herself with a guarded air, which of course suggested she had something to guard. The whole situation spoke of ... opportunity.
"Those are finer legs you have." The waitress seemed surprised, and slightly put off. She really did have fantastic legs though.
Crossing her arms, she next spoke with a somewhat challenging tone "You're awfully spunky, for an Ice Elf."
"And you're beautiful. By the standards of any race." That got a laugh. Good.
"Look, I get hit on all the time by drunk customers -"
"I'm neither drunk nor your customer. Though I could fall under both categories if you'd have a drink with me."
"I don't drink with strange men."
"What about mysterious men? I'm an international man of mystery, in case you're curious."
"Oh really. Any proof?"
The Ice Elf considered this for a moment, not removing his eyes from the young waitress. He was not a young man, (by human standards he was well into his thirties) but there was a vitality and cunning to his face that made him look ... quite handsome. The suit was similarly enchanting, a black tuxedo with various shiny pins covering both lapels. It was an eccentric look, but it attracted the right sort of attention. He couldn't complain.
"My name is Tiber. Just Tiber. If you sit with me a few minutes you'll hear the name called."
"Oh, are you trying to get on Tyrone Deslock's expedition? He's not taking everyone you know."
"He'll call my name."
"That's awful confident of you."
"He'll call my name." Tiber said with slight smile.
______________________________________________________________________________________________
"WOW! You really are going with Tyrone aren't you?!" The waitress was suitably excited now seated next to Tiber. Tyrone had come, announced his crew and drifted out of sight once more. Two thirds of the bar had emptied at that point, leaving only him and his crew members. Somewhere in the back of his head Tiber knew he should be scoping them out and trying to get a feel for the environment. Instead, he threw an arm over the smiling waitress's shoulder before replying, "Yes. I am."
The waitress seemed to let this soak in a moment before returning her gaze to Tiber. "So." She said demurely, "What are we drinking?"
"I'll take a martini. Sh-"
"A what? Is that an Ice elf drink? I don't think we serve those."
"... Oh ..." Tiber seemed disappointed, his visage visibly siniking. "Ice water than."
"Those are finer legs you have." The waitress seemed surprised, and slightly put off. She really did have fantastic legs though.
Crossing her arms, she next spoke with a somewhat challenging tone "You're awfully spunky, for an Ice Elf."
"And you're beautiful. By the standards of any race." That got a laugh. Good.
"Look, I get hit on all the time by drunk customers -"
"I'm neither drunk nor your customer. Though I could fall under both categories if you'd have a drink with me."
"I don't drink with strange men."
"What about mysterious men? I'm an international man of mystery, in case you're curious."
"Oh really. Any proof?"
The Ice Elf considered this for a moment, not removing his eyes from the young waitress. He was not a young man, (by human standards he was well into his thirties) but there was a vitality and cunning to his face that made him look ... quite handsome. The suit was similarly enchanting, a black tuxedo with various shiny pins covering both lapels. It was an eccentric look, but it attracted the right sort of attention. He couldn't complain.
"My name is Tiber. Just Tiber. If you sit with me a few minutes you'll hear the name called."
"Oh, are you trying to get on Tyrone Deslock's expedition? He's not taking everyone you know."
"He'll call my name."
"That's awful confident of you."
"He'll call my name." Tiber said with slight smile.
______________________________________________________________________________________________
"WOW! You really are going with Tyrone aren't you?!" The waitress was suitably excited now seated next to Tiber. Tyrone had come, announced his crew and drifted out of sight once more. Two thirds of the bar had emptied at that point, leaving only him and his crew members. Somewhere in the back of his head Tiber knew he should be scoping them out and trying to get a feel for the environment. Instead, he threw an arm over the smiling waitress's shoulder before replying, "Yes. I am."
The waitress seemed to let this soak in a moment before returning her gaze to Tiber. "So." She said demurely, "What are we drinking?"
"I'll take a martini. Sh-"
"A what? Is that an Ice elf drink? I don't think we serve those."
"... Oh ..." Tiber seemed disappointed, his visage visibly siniking. "Ice water than."
Reeko Jalbrook stood in the corner of the tavern as Tyrone Deslock made his speech. He found the whole thing very funny, but managed to keep his mouth shut.
"Also, all you painted elves, know this: I will not tolerate any of your taboo-switching bullshit or any of your little 'jokes.' If you do something that you find amusing but I do not, I will shoot you in the face. It will be hilarious."
Reeko lost control, he started laughing uncontrollably, "No, geeheehee, no jo- haha. No jokes!" At this point Reeko was doubled over laughing, the whole seriousness of Deslock's tone was quite amusing. He started to pull on the sleeve of a rather large man standing near him, "He, kehehe, He's gonna end up blowing my brains out! Ahaha, can you believe it!" At this point Reeko had fallen on the floor, tears were streaming down his face, "And the Ice Elf bit! Ohohoho, that was fantastic! Oh my, oh my! I hope this, hehehe, I hope he's not always like this! I'll be of no use on the expedition, if I can't stop laughing!"
About ten minutes after Deslock finished his speech Reeko gained control of himself once more. He stood up and brushed himself off, "Right, now that that's finished, time to rest up. But first..." Reeko ran and jumped onto the bar, sliding a bit on the spilled alcohol. Once he gained a firm footing Reeko clapped his hands together loudly, "Excuse me gentlemen, if I may please have your attention!" A man in the crowd responded with a vigorous no, and decided to further exemplify his thoughts on the matter by throwing his tankard at Reeko. A quick duck, however, let Reeko avoid the projectile, "As I was saying, my name is Reeko Jalbrook! As I'm sure you all know, that means I'll be accompanying some of you one the journey to the lost continent!" Reeko stopped and thought for a moment, "I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this, so on that note, rai kleeki va ishtorro!"
Reeko jumped off the bar and took a seat next to a heavy drinking dwarf. He slammed his palm on the bar and shouted, "I'll have fruit juice of some form my good sir!"
"Aye, here ya are, it's a house special, fresh fruits from the Sunset Jungle."
"Many thanks my good man, many thanks."
"Hey Painted Elf, I've gotta a question, that thing you said at the end of your little speech, what does that mean in English."
Reeko grinned wickedly, "It doesn't mean anything, I just like to mess with other's heads!"
Reeko started laughing once more, nearly falling out of his stool. Regaining his composure Reeko sat up in his stool, picked up the tankard of juice and slammed it back. He looked at the dwarf sitting next to him, "And that my good sir, is how you drink!"
"Also, all you painted elves, know this: I will not tolerate any of your taboo-switching bullshit or any of your little 'jokes.' If you do something that you find amusing but I do not, I will shoot you in the face. It will be hilarious."
Reeko lost control, he started laughing uncontrollably, "No, geeheehee, no jo- haha. No jokes!" At this point Reeko was doubled over laughing, the whole seriousness of Deslock's tone was quite amusing. He started to pull on the sleeve of a rather large man standing near him, "He, kehehe, He's gonna end up blowing my brains out! Ahaha, can you believe it!" At this point Reeko had fallen on the floor, tears were streaming down his face, "And the Ice Elf bit! Ohohoho, that was fantastic! Oh my, oh my! I hope this, hehehe, I hope he's not always like this! I'll be of no use on the expedition, if I can't stop laughing!"
About ten minutes after Deslock finished his speech Reeko gained control of himself once more. He stood up and brushed himself off, "Right, now that that's finished, time to rest up. But first..." Reeko ran and jumped onto the bar, sliding a bit on the spilled alcohol. Once he gained a firm footing Reeko clapped his hands together loudly, "Excuse me gentlemen, if I may please have your attention!" A man in the crowd responded with a vigorous no, and decided to further exemplify his thoughts on the matter by throwing his tankard at Reeko. A quick duck, however, let Reeko avoid the projectile, "As I was saying, my name is Reeko Jalbrook! As I'm sure you all know, that means I'll be accompanying some of you one the journey to the lost continent!" Reeko stopped and thought for a moment, "I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this, so on that note, rai kleeki va ishtorro!"
Reeko jumped off the bar and took a seat next to a heavy drinking dwarf. He slammed his palm on the bar and shouted, "I'll have fruit juice of some form my good sir!"
"Aye, here ya are, it's a house special, fresh fruits from the Sunset Jungle."
"Many thanks my good man, many thanks."
"Hey Painted Elf, I've gotta a question, that thing you said at the end of your little speech, what does that mean in English."
Reeko grinned wickedly, "It doesn't mean anything, I just like to mess with other's heads!"
Reeko started laughing once more, nearly falling out of his stool. Regaining his composure Reeko sat up in his stool, picked up the tankard of juice and slammed it back. He looked at the dwarf sitting next to him, "And that my good sir, is how you drink!"
A wave moved through the crowded tavern. People grunted and shouted angrily after the peak of it, horrible curses and whatnot. A woman shrieked as the wave passed by her, clutching at her rump while the men around her snickered. The wave abruptly reversed, pushing towards the incident.
"Oh deary, deary! Please, my lass, excuse me! It is so very hard to move about when one is so very small!" The squeaky voice resonated over the lower, mumbling tones of the men and women inhabiting the tavern. "Please, allow me to make it up to you somehow! I could not stand to dishonor you so without compensation!"
The woman blinked, staring downward. "N... no, sir. Tha-... it's quite alright."
"Are you certain?"
"Y-yes. Please, don't let it worry."
"Oh, that's so good then! I was worried for a moment, you see. Back where I'm from a man could be hanged for so much as glancing at a woman wrong, much less bumping into one as I did!" A high-pitched laugh snapped through people's conversation. "But alas, that doesn't apply here, now does it? What's your name, eh?"
"M... Marian."
"Ooh, Marian, quite the nice name there. I once knew a girl named Marian, back in my hometown. Quite the looker, if you catch my drift. She lived in a barn a few miles from my home, always had strange men leaving in the middle of the night. Not that I saw meself, you see, I just heard rumors. Some said she was a tart, but I didn't believe 'em! No woman as beautiful as that could be a tasty desert! Can you believe the nerve of some people?"
The woman blinked. She stepped backward a few feet, followed by the small pocket within the crowd. "Um, no, it's quite surprising."
"I know, isn't it? I can't believe it myself sometimes, even though I've traveled the world for years now!" The voice paused. "My, some of the women around here look less than healthy. Like trollops, almost. You're not a trollop are you?"
The woman gasped, slapping downward into the pocket. The loud smack sent the pocket scrambling backwards, releasing a new streak of curses. "Well now! I'm certain that I've offended you now." The gnome crawled onto the table to look the women in the eyes.
The woman lifted her hand once again to slap him with fury in her eyes. "Who are you, you irritating little ass?!"
The hand slapped against thin air. Drawing her hand back, the woman eyed the little man up and down warily. The gnome laughed, his hands between his back. "Why, Miss, there's no need to be rude. I am Tickyvanillius Leviticus the Third. But you," He swept a deep bow. "... you can call me Ticky."
All applicable rights go to "Stan!" and Wizards of the Coast.
"Oh deary, deary! Please, my lass, excuse me! It is so very hard to move about when one is so very small!" The squeaky voice resonated over the lower, mumbling tones of the men and women inhabiting the tavern. "Please, allow me to make it up to you somehow! I could not stand to dishonor you so without compensation!"
The woman blinked, staring downward. "N... no, sir. Tha-... it's quite alright."
"Are you certain?"
"Y-yes. Please, don't let it worry."
"Oh, that's so good then! I was worried for a moment, you see. Back where I'm from a man could be hanged for so much as glancing at a woman wrong, much less bumping into one as I did!" A high-pitched laugh snapped through people's conversation. "But alas, that doesn't apply here, now does it? What's your name, eh?"
"M... Marian."
"Ooh, Marian, quite the nice name there. I once knew a girl named Marian, back in my hometown. Quite the looker, if you catch my drift. She lived in a barn a few miles from my home, always had strange men leaving in the middle of the night. Not that I saw meself, you see, I just heard rumors. Some said she was a tart, but I didn't believe 'em! No woman as beautiful as that could be a tasty desert! Can you believe the nerve of some people?"
The woman blinked. She stepped backward a few feet, followed by the small pocket within the crowd. "Um, no, it's quite surprising."
"I know, isn't it? I can't believe it myself sometimes, even though I've traveled the world for years now!" The voice paused. "My, some of the women around here look less than healthy. Like trollops, almost. You're not a trollop are you?"
The woman gasped, slapping downward into the pocket. The loud smack sent the pocket scrambling backwards, releasing a new streak of curses. "Well now! I'm certain that I've offended you now." The gnome crawled onto the table to look the women in the eyes.
The woman lifted her hand once again to slap him with fury in her eyes. "Who are you, you irritating little ass?!"
The hand slapped against thin air. Drawing her hand back, the woman eyed the little man up and down warily. The gnome laughed, his hands between his back. "Why, Miss, there's no need to be rude. I am Tickyvanillius Leviticus the Third. But you," He swept a deep bow. "... you can call me Ticky."
All applicable rights go to "Stan!" and Wizards of the Coast.
Jacien Criver sat in particularly rickety chair as he listened to Tyrion Whathisname's speech. He hadn't heard the leader's last name, because of some interesting frippery that had walked by. He grinned when he heard his name called. He looked around for some of the other men,and women he noticed, glad there was going to be a least one person of the female persuasion in the voyage. He stopped for a moment to study her.
"Blast it Jace." He quietly said to himself. "Stop looking at women for a little while and stay professional." He stared longingly at the female figure for a moment longer and then, resumed his study of those who would be going. There were Ice Elves on this expedition, he noticed with a scowl, Jace didn't much care for them, in fact he found them to be quite like Uranium (out of context I'm sorry D
exposure to them just got worse the longer you were around them.
Once the announcements and the ensuing brawl were finished with; Jace walked quickly out of the tavern. Jace sighed to himself as he walked quickly down the winding alleyways. "Those damn mages, really need to stop flinging their fireballs so willy nilly." Jace muttered, brushing off his charred suitcoat. "This was a perfectly good shirt too. They're lucky one of my knives didn't sprout from their throat." This expedition is going to be a long one.
"Blast it Jace." He quietly said to himself. "Stop looking at women for a little while and stay professional." He stared longingly at the female figure for a moment longer and then, resumed his study of those who would be going. There were Ice Elves on this expedition, he noticed with a scowl, Jace didn't much care for them, in fact he found them to be quite like Uranium (out of context I'm sorry D
exposure to them just got worse the longer you were around them.Once the announcements and the ensuing brawl were finished with; Jace walked quickly out of the tavern. Jace sighed to himself as he walked quickly down the winding alleyways. "Those damn mages, really need to stop flinging their fireballs so willy nilly." Jace muttered, brushing off his charred suitcoat. "This was a perfectly good shirt too. They're lucky one of my knives didn't sprout from their throat." This expedition is going to be a long one.
"I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this, so on that note, rai kleeki va ishtorro!" called out a Painted Elf who stood on a table, and in the crowed, Jakob nodded sagely, or at least as sagely as a Painted elf can. He made his may through the press toward his fellow, and tapped him on the shoulder
"Sun shines on our meeting, brother" he said with a trace of a laugh, "But I must disagree." He leaned across to a man seated nearby and pointed toward a scuffle on the other side of the room. while the man watched the fight, Jakob took the man's drink and turned back to the conversation, with the crowd closing between him and his victim
"That, my friend, is how to drink"
"Sun shines on our meeting, brother" he said with a trace of a laugh, "But I must disagree." He leaned across to a man seated nearby and pointed toward a scuffle on the other side of the room. while the man watched the fight, Jakob took the man's drink and turned back to the conversation, with the crowd closing between him and his victim
"That, my friend, is how to drink"
If a fellow Painted Elf says anything weird, just play along and add something weirder =P
Sun shines on our meeting"
"And the moon weeps at out parting"
"And the moon weeps at out parting"