The hooded figure waltzes leisurely through the front door of the alehouse, longbow hoisted around his shoulder, and walks silently but noticably at the bar and sits down on the stool, hands clasped together and arms on the bar.
"Wine." He calls out in a tenor set voice. His tan chin, lips, and tip of his nose being the only visible identity of the individual with the hood covering his eyes.
Well this just happens to be my favourite night of the year, despite being the last one. So a good a time as any to drink and be merry. Especially on ill-gotten dragon horde.
So body shots of whiskey of the ages off a dryad of the cloudpeaks for everyone!
*dressed in a simple, but vividly (and awfully, truth be told) coloured robes, a human male emerged in mid-air, right next to the bar. Unfortunately for him, he positioned horizontally, hit the bar with his head and plummeted toward the floor, landing with a nasty cracking sound.*
Blasted... surge.. *grumbling unintelligibly for a moment* This is getting irritating.
*stood up clumsily and shook his head. The remaining hair fell off, leaving a smoking, ashy head almost completely bald*
Walks in, takes her place at the head of the common room, with an Irish harp. Raising her fingers to the strings, she plays and begins to sing. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O72sG4iRnqw
*shakes his head* Oh, now that is just terrific! First I get shunned from my destination inside some random tavern, then I see a single lady singing a whole choir all at once! Wonderful indeed, I'm just eager to hear talking swords and such. Where's that free whiskey?! Why are you looking at me like that?
*Hums merrily to herself, pouring some of @LadyRhian's special wine for Reximmortalisdraco*
*Scowls @Latronis_Prime and then starts giving everyone in the house their free shot of whiskey. Giving 2 to @Antagonist for waiting so long, but none to @booinyoureyes. I checked his hamster card and he isn't old enough yet by giant space hamster standards*
How long have I been running this establishment boo? Since the first post here, I've been involved with Alaundo's Alehouse though since the 3rd or 4th Alehouse back on the old gamefaqs forums..........so geez I think over 10 years. My my my what a long road its been.
*Points her greatsword at the fireplace and watch's the fire increase in size but not in heat, a pleasant gentle roar for the songs and stories of the fine alehouse.
Ah yes, some whiskey to brighten my day. I don't suppose you, *coughs* common people, know of such things, but in Waterdeep the noble and most highly distinguished personalities had developed a... technique, that allows you to better understand the taste and flavor of your drink. Now let me show you...
*started to slurp his whiskey with a rather annoying sound, making a couple different faces to show the subsequent stages of discovering his whiskey's bouquet*
Ah the illustrious alehouse history, let me see if i can reconcile its origins with other major milestones in my mind.
Leaning back and crossing his ankles over the bar, the mage pulls out a pipe and pops it between his lips clicking his thumb and middle finger to create a flame, puffing away until the tobacco fully ignites. Leaving a thick cloud of smoke slowly billowing above his head slowly forming brief images to illustrate his words.
I used to spend my time split between two similiar yet seperate communities, one whose exploits where of adventures in Amn, and the other, of which @Dragonspear would one day join told tales of the sword coast. The major difference between the Amnish community already had land set aside as a social gathering where likeminded individuals gathered and told tales of great adventure, like the epic saga of '02 with the Lord of the Bra and where they came together in defense of their community like in the great troll invasion from the lands known colloqially as 'D2' of that very same year. Earlier that year which my memory would lead me to believe was also the year the renowned Alaundo of firewine ruins tales fame decided that this community should also have its own social area and thus was born the very first Alaundo's Alehouse.
Now the local establishment of tale swapping and entertainment was a reasonable success but many of the future veterans of the drinking lodge were yet to be regular members of the community and a large number of months passed before Aluando, now semi-retired, would reopen its doors. It was sometime after this second coming of the Alehouse that a new wave of members would grace our small community. Now this third time opened alehouse if memory serves, was rather short lived. Personally I would say it was a structural issue, though some others may place the blame for its fiery end at a certain mages feet. Nonetheless it was quickly rebuilt, and I even opened my own version further afield in Amn but that one was short-lived due in part to local laws, and hostile invaders. But back on the sword coast it flourished, this alehouse the regular visitors and not so regular but well loved visitors sharing tales and news until the time came when the alehouse had to shut down for repairs and refurbishments eventually changing hands of ownership though still going through many many seasons of such until the time came when the community had mostly moved on and only a small group remained and even then only barely staying in touch until such a time that the Alehouse moved here.
Ugh, another decrepit, rat infested alehouse. I suppose the serving wench is disease ridden and the wine is foul swill. Still, it's better than dying of pneumonia in the lashing rain, barely.
I'd think some people would have more sense, but alas, apparently sense is always in short supply around your type.
*Walking out the door, with a Greatsword strapped across her back, a staff in one hand and an empty glass in another, she ventures for a moment into the wood. She walks back in, the glass missing and strolls up to the bar. Filling a glass up with water, she plants it right in front of @demented, a dead diseased rate inside, contrasting fully with the otherwise immaculate alehouse.*
You asked for a glass of water without fecal matter in it, and furthermore you insult an establishment such as this that has been around since time immortal. I am a Paladin of Mystra and an Envoker of some renown as well. This alehouse is a bastion of safety and security for this reason, for all. From the lowest goblin and kobold, to even insulting insolent beings such as yourself. It is for this reason, and this reason only, that I don't fling you out the door, riding a fireball.
*Her eyes are glowing red with embers, blinking once then turn gold, another blink turns them silver before one final time returns them to their deep ice blue.*
And, while an amusing spectacle that may be, no one wants that outcome. If you'd like any of our fine wine or disease free women, of which all of them are, you need only apologize and ask. Otherwise *she points her staff towards the door, it pulsing with power*.
Yes yes yes. Very entertaining. I'm sure your parlour tricks impress the simple minded folk who come here to forget their meaningless lives.
If you aren't able to supply water without vermin, then I dread to see what's in your wine.
Seeing as you're incapable of the most basic civilities, I'll wait out the storm in silence. Unless of course your benevolent Mystra cares to deliver me from this misery.
*the rain continues to poor*
It seems not. Perhaps the rumours of her being a bitter crone have truth to them.
Returning back into the Tavern first, the icy Doppleganger walks with a chill following his steps, it makes no motion to regard the other patrons and sits itself down in Ebnar's stool and begins to take swigs from the Dwarfs tankard. Storming in a short time after with the Half-Elf boy Vincent on his shoulder. Ebnar pauses and glares at the Ice Clone then at his Tankard being violated by its touch, in a rage he drops the Half-Elf boy to the ground with a thud
"Oi ye frozen despot gully mimic! Gey ye bloody hands off me tankard before i carve ye into cubes!!"
Ignoring the Dwarfs rant the Ice clone continues to drink from the tankard, despite not having much in the way of facial expressions the clone almost seems to be mocking the Dwarf, taking long deep gulps from the Tankard
"Ye really begining to piss me off ye reject ice elemental!"
The Ice clone continues to ignore the Dwarf, in a rage the Dwarf pulls out his mace and points it towards the Dopplegangar
"Unsummon!", he yells, "UNSUMMON I SAID!!"
The clone turns its head and looks at him momenterly before resuming drinking from the tankard
"Yeah busted peice of Dwarven crap! BY THE HELLS UNSUMMON YERSELF OFF MY BLASTED TANKARD!!"
Whatever the Dwarf is attempting its not working, the Ice clone refusing his command. Rage bubbling, he wacks the mace against the back of the Ice clone though it makes no dent
"STOP IGNORING ME YE SECOND RATE DWARVEN ENCHANTMENT!! By all the hells i should of done left ye up the mountain with all the other reject items!!"
In a fury he grabs a hold of the tankard in the clones hand and begins trying to tug it out of its grip with little success.
The door to the alehouse creaks open so gently that it goes unnoticed in the increasingly chaotic atmosphere. A tall, slender figure steps through, cowled from head to toe in an steel-grey cloak that dances like moonlight. The hammer of rain from outside suggests that the robes should be drenched through and through. They show not the faintest sign of dampness. Long fingers with knobby knuckles and a network of faint white scars emerge from the newcomer's robes. She pulls the hood back from her face.
A familiar face to some, though those who recognize the sorceress notice that she has changed. Her skin is stretched more tautly over her high cheekbones. A long white mark runs down the side of her face from temple to chin, partly concealed by her tangle of wild dark hair, and there's something different about her eyes. Were they brown once? Green? Hard to say, but they certainly were never this oddly luminous gold-flecked amber, nor were they ever as piercing.
Kalesra smiles and strides toward the bar. Most of the patrons have yet to take notice of her. Between the innkeeper's altercation with a rude patron and the tussle currently taking place between the dwarf and his ice clone, there's a lot of noise and confusion.
"Oy, Innkeeper!" she calls out, leaning across the bar. "What in the nine hells is this place still doing open? I thought for sure that by the time I got back from Aglarond one of you would have ticked off some infernal horror enough to turn the alehouse into a smoking crater. But lo and behold, these sorry sods are all still sitting around drinking your watered-down ale."
She catches sight of the diseased rat which is still floating in a mug of water in front of @demented.
"Did I just insult your fine establishment?" Kal grins. "Apologies. I must not be drunk enough. I'll have an Evermead. And a round of drinks on me for all of the old regulars! Oh...and another sodden rat corpse for the gentleman on my right."
The elf sips his wine relaxed with the chaos swirling about him. He laughs. Sorcerors and warriors all banging about, shouting, yelling, and partying. If he were not a forest dweller, he would feel compelled to stay here immediatel, but it will take a lot more than festivities and merriment to convince the elf of any reason to stay. The elf pulls back his verdant green hood revealing his dirty blonde hair drooping down to his shoulders. his eyes a deep hazel and his chin long and pointed. His skin is a deep tan and his lips are as thin as wires. His ears, pointed, protrude through his hair.
He shakes his head and calls to the barkeeper. "I have no gold whatsoever. I wanted to walk out without paying for that dragon disrupted my hunting. But I am willing to work off the debt as I am entertained by your... patrons."
There is a series of quick knocks on the heavy wooden door, whenever someone opens it, a group of Halflings burst out in high pitched laughter and spirit away into the underbush.
Dancing to the side as the halflings scamper from the doorway, a lone figure ducks his head and enters the alehouse. Covered by a dark blue cloak that gently settles behind him as he settles at the bar, he peers around the room with hooded blue eyes, wondering why nearly all inside have fallen asleep.
"Tavernkeep @Dragonspear, a glass of Berduskan Dark Wine if you please. Busy night? It appears your patrons have grown weary."
Pulling a tattered collection of parchments and quill pen from his knapsack, he begins sketching the maiden @LadyRhian who sings a gentle ballad at the head of the common room. As his pen moves, colors seemingly spring from its tip, dancing across the parchment before settling into rich hues.
He smiles in satisfaction and settles on the stool, focused on his work.
Booting the door in with two halflings firmly gripped by their shirts in one hand, and a further halfling hanging from the other, the very large half orc lets out a loud and abrupt grunt. "Fucking halflings." mutters Krongir as he tosses the group of drunken pests to floor and they scarper back through the door and into the night.
After standing at the entrance for a day, Nimran walked over to the last empty table and sat down, telling his trusty ferret, Stoat the Ferret Lord, to order his favorite ale.
Comments
"Wine." He calls out in a tenor set voice. His tan chin, lips, and tip of his nose being the only visible identity of the individual with the hood covering his eyes.
So body shots of whiskey of the ages off a dryad of the cloudpeaks for everyone!
Blasted... surge.. *grumbling unintelligibly for a moment* This is getting irritating.
*stood up clumsily and shook his head. The remaining hair fell off, leaving a smoking, ashy head almost completely bald*
Did someone say free whiskey? I really need it.
Just in case this fails, he looks over to @antagonist and Plan B formulates in his mind....
*Scowls @Latronis_Prime and then starts giving everyone in the house their free shot of whiskey. Giving 2 to @Antagonist for waiting so long, but none to @booinyoureyes. I checked his hamster card and he isn't old enough yet by giant space hamster standards*
How long have I been running this establishment boo? Since the first post here, I've been involved with Alaundo's Alehouse though since the 3rd or 4th Alehouse back on the old gamefaqs forums..........so geez I think over 10 years. My my my what a long road its been.
*Points her greatsword at the fireplace and watch's the fire increase in size but not in heat, a pleasant gentle roar for the songs and stories of the fine alehouse.
*started to slurp his whiskey with a rather annoying sound, making a couple different faces to show the subsequent stages of discovering his whiskey's bouquet*
Leaning back and crossing his ankles over the bar, the mage pulls out a pipe and pops it between his lips clicking his thumb and middle finger to create a flame, puffing away until the tobacco fully ignites. Leaving a thick cloud of smoke slowly billowing above his head slowly forming brief images to illustrate his words.
I used to spend my time split between two similiar yet seperate communities, one whose exploits where of adventures in Amn, and the other, of which @Dragonspear would one day join told tales of the sword coast. The major difference between the Amnish community already had land set aside as a social gathering where likeminded individuals gathered and told tales of great adventure, like the epic saga of '02 with the Lord of the Bra and where they came together in defense of their community like in the great troll invasion from the lands known colloqially as 'D2' of that very same year. Earlier that year which my memory would lead me to believe was also the year the renowned Alaundo of firewine ruins tales fame decided that this community should also have its own social area and thus was born the very first Alaundo's Alehouse.
Now the local establishment of tale swapping and entertainment was a reasonable success but many of the future veterans of the drinking lodge were yet to be regular members of the community and a large number of months passed before Aluando, now semi-retired, would reopen its doors. It was sometime after this second coming of the Alehouse that a new wave of members would grace our small community. Now this third time opened alehouse if memory serves, was rather short lived. Personally I would say it was a structural issue, though some others may place the blame for its fiery end at a certain mages feet. Nonetheless it was quickly rebuilt, and I even opened my own version further afield in Amn but that one was short-lived due in part to local laws, and hostile invaders. But back on the sword coast it flourished, this alehouse the regular visitors and not so regular but well loved visitors sharing tales and news until the time came when the alehouse had to shut down for repairs and refurbishments eventually changing hands of ownership though still going through many many seasons of such until the time came when the community had mostly moved on and only a small group remained and even then only barely staying in touch until such a time that the Alehouse moved here.
*gestures to @Dragonspear*
Do you have any- no of course you don't. Just a glass of water without faecal matter in it.
*spends ten minutes wiping a chair clean, then proceeds to ignore everyone in alehouse*
I'd think some people would have more sense, but alas, apparently sense is always in short supply around your type.
*Walking out the door, with a Greatsword strapped across her back, a staff in one hand and an empty glass in another, she ventures for a moment into the wood. She walks back in, the glass missing and strolls up to the bar. Filling a glass up with water, she plants it right in front of @demented, a dead diseased rate inside, contrasting fully with the otherwise immaculate alehouse.*
You asked for a glass of water without fecal matter in it, and furthermore you insult an establishment such as this that has been around since time immortal. I am a Paladin of Mystra and an Envoker of some renown as well. This alehouse is a bastion of safety and security for this reason, for all. From the lowest goblin and kobold, to even insulting insolent beings such as yourself. It is for this reason, and this reason only, that I don't fling you out the door, riding a fireball.
*Her eyes are glowing red with embers, blinking once then turn gold, another blink turns them silver before one final time returns them to their deep ice blue.*
And, while an amusing spectacle that may be, no one wants that outcome. If you'd like any of our fine wine or disease free women, of which all of them are, you need only apologize and ask. Otherwise *she points her staff towards the door, it pulsing with power*.
If you aren't able to supply water without vermin, then I dread to see what's in your wine.
Seeing as you're incapable of the most basic civilities, I'll wait out the storm in silence. Unless of course your benevolent Mystra cares to deliver me from this misery.
*the rain continues to poor*
It seems not. Perhaps the rumours of her being a bitter crone have truth to them.
"Oi ye frozen despot gully mimic! Gey ye bloody hands off me tankard before i carve ye into cubes!!"
Ignoring the Dwarfs rant the Ice clone continues to drink from the tankard, despite not having much in the way of facial expressions the clone almost seems to be mocking the Dwarf, taking long deep gulps from the Tankard
"Ye really begining to piss me off ye reject ice elemental!"
The Ice clone continues to ignore the Dwarf, in a rage the Dwarf pulls out his mace and points it towards the Dopplegangar
"Unsummon!", he yells, "UNSUMMON I SAID!!"
The clone turns its head and looks at him momenterly before resuming drinking from the tankard
"Yeah busted peice of Dwarven crap! BY THE HELLS UNSUMMON YERSELF OFF MY BLASTED TANKARD!!"
Whatever the Dwarf is attempting its not working, the Ice clone refusing his command. Rage bubbling, he wacks the mace against the back of the Ice clone though it makes no dent
"STOP IGNORING ME YE SECOND RATE DWARVEN ENCHANTMENT!! By all the hells i should of done left ye up the mountain with all the other reject items!!"
In a fury he grabs a hold of the tankard in the clones hand and begins trying to tug it out of its grip with little success.
A familiar face to some, though those who recognize the sorceress notice that she has changed. Her skin is stretched more tautly over her high cheekbones. A long white mark runs down the side of her face from temple to chin, partly concealed by her tangle of wild dark hair, and there's something different about her eyes. Were they brown once? Green? Hard to say, but they certainly were never this oddly luminous gold-flecked amber, nor were they ever as piercing.
Kalesra smiles and strides toward the bar. Most of the patrons have yet to take notice of her. Between the innkeeper's altercation with a rude patron and the tussle currently taking place between the dwarf and his ice clone, there's a lot of noise and confusion.
"Oy, Innkeeper!" she calls out, leaning across the bar. "What in the nine hells is this place still doing open? I thought for sure that by the time I got back from Aglarond one of you would have ticked off some infernal horror enough to turn the alehouse into a smoking crater. But lo and behold, these sorry sods are all still sitting around drinking your watered-down ale."
She catches sight of the diseased rat which is still floating in a mug of water in front of @demented.
"Did I just insult your fine establishment?" Kal grins. "Apologies. I must not be drunk enough. I'll have an Evermead. And a round of drinks on me for all of the old regulars! Oh...and another sodden rat corpse for the gentleman on my right."
He shakes his head and calls to the barkeeper. "I have no gold whatsoever. I wanted to walk out without paying for that dragon disrupted my hunting. But I am willing to work off the debt as I am entertained by your... patrons."
"Tavernkeep @Dragonspear, a glass of Berduskan Dark Wine if you please. Busy night? It appears your patrons have grown weary."
Pulling a tattered collection of parchments and quill pen from his knapsack, he begins sketching the maiden @LadyRhian who sings a gentle ballad at the head of the common room. As his pen moves, colors seemingly spring from its tip, dancing across the parchment before settling into rich hues.
He smiles in satisfaction and settles on the stool, focused on his work.
"Fucking halflings." mutters Krongir as he tosses the group of drunken pests to floor and they scarper back through the door and into the night.