Rhiannon finishes up her dinner and drinks some more wine. "Delicious! And now for some more Music. I heard a tale of the revenge visited on a King who killed his sister, who was head of a mercenary company, to take the throne."
If there was ever a dark, mysterious stranger to enter the tavern, this fellow certainly did not meet all the requirements. Instead of being dark, the man who had just shrugged a mild autumn rain off his cloak, was considerably fair-haired. He took his time to rid his boots of the larger globules of mud caked to them, before heading over to one of the tables, sitting down and addressing one of the wenches frequenting the place.
"Mulled wine, please, my dear," he asked her with a smile and pressed a few coppers in her hand, "T'is dreadful outside"
Turning down his hood, the man revealed an unruly, but close-cropped set of blonde hair, damp from the weather outside. Before touching the goblet of wine of front of him, he combed his fingers through his hair in an attempt to restore some sort of form to it.
"The pleasure is all, mine, I'm sure," he replied and took a sip from the fragrant, bordeaux liquid. A delightful warmness spread from his belly to the rest of his body.
She steps through the door, dripping wet, dark hair clinging to her face, and hangs her goldenrod cloak on a peg by the door. She brushes her hair out of her face and smiles warmly as she surveys the smoky inn.
I heard that no one was playing here the last few nights, so here I am!
She produces a fiddle from somewhere and begins to dance and play...
Welcome Onion and we do love people to play us tunes. It is true that @LadyRhian has been quiet in here of late. I thought she was going to become our bard
*bang*, with a small flash and a puff of smoke a crumpled figure dressed in an all black cloak over leather armor appears in the entry to the ale house. A half elf, seemingly worse for the wear and carrying two short swords at his hip, and still singed and smoking from whatever sent him here. He seems to be unconscious.
A small dragon proceeds to crawl out of his pack, attempting to awaken the newcomer. Its attempts in vain, it finally sets fire to the figure who jumps up with a yelp grasping his two short swords and looking extremely confused. Settling down, he begins a death stare with his dragon before letting it land on his shoulder as he makes his way to the bar.
He throws a purse on the bar before announcing "drinks, strongest you got, for both of us" before retiring to a corner.
nods and sends his familiar over with a few coins. Noticing that the staff is indisposed, he then directs the dragon to the bar to retrieve a bottle of whiskey of the ages. Haggard takes a swig of the whiskey and then gives a small bit to his familiar who lets out a small puff of flame.
"Sigh, you wouldn't believe how tiring it is traveling the planes. Yumi, my familiar, and I just returned here after being thrown to various places. The last place was a bar as well....... there are no all powerful wizards buried below this one are there?"
*catches it mid air and rests on dragonspear's shoulder to eat*
seems she's made a new friend, be careful though, sometimes after a bit of drink she gets a bit feisty. One time she lit my pack on fire after a particularly adventurous night.
Oh that's ok. Having been in this alehouse long enough, through red dragon attacks, undead attacks and wizards who like to just randomly toss fireballs at the hired help, I quickly learned that fire resist Alekeeper gear was a must.
Rhiannon puts down her harp. "I hate to intrude on this conversation, but I have some salve that might help. It relieves pain in the skin. It should work for itches, too."
Rhiannon hands HaggardBlaze a crystal container of greenish salve. If he tries it, it's cooling and soothing on the skin. "I use it sometimes when I have played for too long."
*the Alehouses door swings open, a cold whistling breeze creeps across the taverns stained entrance, a large clunking of chainmail and plate armor hobbles through the door, a Dwarf, roughly 4 foot, his hair dark brown and matted, his beard was wild and unkept, his nose glowing a faint pink which he wiped with his wrist with an abrupt grunt, his armor was unique in design, numerous patterns and embelishments lined the lengh of the breastplate with an equal amount of dents and chips which had been forcely battered out and from the weathered look of the armor it was clear it was not merely for apperance, turning he sneers back out the door*
"Hurry up boy!", he growls in a husky voice.
*Following in through the door carrying a large assortment of weapons, armor, helmets and shields gripped unevenly in both hands stumbles a Half-Elf, he was the picture of weedy teen, his tunic was dirty and unwashed yet from the embroidery along the stiching it was clear it was once a rather dashing peice, he struggles to keep the small mountain of items from stacking over.*
"I'm sorry Master, i'm trying my best!"
*The half-elf face turns pale as an axe falls from the pile, the glittering mithril axe circles through the air, the half-elf shuts his eyes and grits his teeth expecting to hear the thump of the axe hitting the ground, however the Dwarf thrusts a hand forward and catches it mid air.*
"Be careful with what ye be carrying fool boy! this be me clan's axe! past down from father to son for nay Eight- nay! THIRTEEN generations!"
*The gruffled Dwarf expects the axe closesy, making sure no damage had befallen the heirloom, the Half-Elf shuffles to rebalance the remaing loot in his arms*
"I-I'm sorry Master! if you had only bought the Bag of Holding from that merchant the other day it would make carrying it-"
*The Dwarfs face turns to a frown and he sharply turns to face the Half-Elf, causing the the poor boy to be caught unaware and nearly dropping more of the equipment*
"500 gold he be wanting! for a purse of all things! i not be falling for that petty Elf magic, Clan Bluemace has always carried the're burdens! me great uncle Corlor Bluemace once carried an entire dragon hoard back to the clan for 400 miles! in the snow! with no wagon or horse neither, nay boy, let the Elves be keeping their magic, i'll stick to a good old strong back anyday"
*The Dwarf smirks to himself and pounds his chest with his fist, the echoing chain and plate ripples throughout the Alehouse, the Half-Elf sighs and looks away, whispering under his breath*
"Yeah, but your not the one carrying it are you..."
*The Dwarf catches wind and glares coldy at the Half-Elf, he lobs the axe back ontop of the pile, the boy trys desperatly to catch it without dropping more equipment onto the floor, he succeeds and breaths a sigh of relief*
"You be needing to put some muscle on your body anyway, dat be why you do the carrying! you take too much after ye da, all skinny and smoothskinned as he was, atleast he could actually put up a fight! once saw him take out an Orc Warchief with a single arrow from 400 yards! ye ma, God's be resting her soul, would be shocked to see what her only offspring done turned into! that lass could cast a fireball AND hold her own in a sword fight!..."
*Scratching his beard his stops and ponders for a moment, a smile creeping onto the side of his mouth, his eyes sparkle briefly, his smile turns to frown slowerly and he lowers his head as he remembers times long since passed, finally he shakes his head and grunts and storms off down the Alehouse*
"Keep up boy!", he shouts.
*The half-elf toddles afterhim, being careful to dodge the many chairs, stools and tables layered around the place, the Dwarf approaches the bar and takes a moment to expect the stool, clearly it was too big for him to sit on, he grumbles under his breath*
"What be this human bar? hows a Dwarf to sit this oversize stump?", he bellows, not aiming it at anyone in particular.
*After a moments pause he lets out a weary gruff sigh and hobbles up onto the stool, the challenge isnt has much of a burden as he complained but his heavy armor takes its tole, he finally shuffles himself to sit evenly on the stool, resting his left arm on the bar he slams his right hand onto the hard wooden surface*
"Whats a Dwarf gotta do to get a bloody Ale around ere?!"
*His complaing is interrupted with the Half-Elf tripping over a chair, his shocked screech is silenced with the loud clanging and bashing of the equipment rattling off the Alehouse's floor, the Dwarf groans without turning to look at the boy, slowerly he tilts his head to see a single round shield roll away from the now grounded equipement, the Half-Elf half buried within the mix, his head dorned with a helmet clearly too big for him, he takes a moment to breath out slowerly before catching the Dwarf's angry glare, he quickly jumps to his feet and trys desperatly to reform the equipment in his arms*
"Leave it be boy! i nay be having ye dent them peices anymore than they already are!"
*The Dwarf's turns back to the bar, his face still irratable from not being served yet, the Half-Elf nervously leaves the gear on the floor and makes his way over to the Dwarf, he remembers the helmet being on his head and slowerly removes it and drops it onto of the pile, he shuffles uncomftably as he passes a tavern patron with a scar across his eye who eyes him up cautiously, the boy attempts an nervous smile, the patron returns the gesture with a snarl and spitting on the floor, his pace is quickened as he rushes to the Dwarf's side.*
Comments
*Winterstorm looks down at the lute by the barstool*
By chance, are you learnt in the arts of curse removal?
Also to celebrate labor day, here come the ever late kobold bardic dancing troupe.
Claps her hands as the curtain lifts and Kobolds strike up some odds tunes while others start dancing
"Mulled wine, please, my dear," he asked her with a smile and pressed a few coppers in her hand, "T'is dreadful outside"
Glad to meet ya. Welcome to Alaundo's alehouse.
"The pleasure is all, mine, I'm sure," he replied and took a sip from the fragrant, bordeaux liquid. A delightful warmness spread from his belly to the rest of his body.
I heard that no one was playing here the last few nights, so here I am!
She produces a fiddle from somewhere and begins to dance and play...
Alaundo's Alehouse is proud to present this evenings duet of
@LadyRhian and @AnOnion
Enjoy your meal
A small dragon proceeds to crawl out of his pack, attempting to awaken the newcomer. Its attempts in vain, it finally sets fire to the figure who jumps up with a yelp grasping his two short swords and looking extremely confused. Settling down, he begins a death stare with his dragon before letting it land on his shoulder as he makes his way to the bar.
He throws a purse on the bar before announcing "drinks, strongest you got, for both of us" before retiring to a corner.
"Sigh, you wouldn't believe how tiring it is traveling the planes. Yumi, my familiar, and I just returned here after being thrown to various places. The last place was a bar as well....... there are no all powerful wizards buried below this one are there?"
*shudders and takes another swig of whiskey*
So far as I know there are no powerful wizards located underneath the bar. Although we occasionally have powerful wizards who walk in the front door.
seems she's made a new friend, be careful though, sometimes after a bit of drink she gets a bit feisty. One time she lit my pack on fire after a particularly adventurous night.
*rubs bottom and looks woeful*
the burns still itch
*glares at yumi who lets out a small puff of satisfied smoke after finishing its meal and flying back to rest on the table*
"Thank you dearly, forgive me if I do not immediately apply it, as I am also a bard this could come in useful in more ways than one."
"Hurry up boy!", he growls in a husky voice.
*Following in through the door carrying a large assortment of weapons, armor, helmets and shields gripped unevenly in both hands stumbles a Half-Elf, he was the picture of weedy teen, his tunic was dirty and unwashed yet from the embroidery along the stiching it was clear it was once a rather dashing peice, he struggles to keep the small mountain of items from stacking over.*
"I'm sorry Master, i'm trying my best!"
*The half-elf face turns pale as an axe falls from the pile, the glittering mithril axe circles through the air, the half-elf shuts his eyes and grits his teeth expecting to hear the thump of the axe hitting the ground, however the Dwarf thrusts a hand forward and catches it mid air.*
"Be careful with what ye be carrying fool boy! this be me clan's axe! past down from father to son for nay Eight- nay! THIRTEEN generations!"
*The gruffled Dwarf expects the axe closesy, making sure no damage had befallen the heirloom, the Half-Elf shuffles to rebalance the remaing loot in his arms*
"I-I'm sorry Master! if you had only bought the Bag of Holding from that merchant the other day it would make carrying it-"
*The Dwarfs face turns to a frown and he sharply turns to face the Half-Elf, causing the the poor boy to be caught unaware and nearly dropping more of the equipment*
"500 gold he be wanting! for a purse of all things! i not be falling for that petty Elf magic, Clan Bluemace has always carried the're burdens! me great uncle Corlor Bluemace once carried an entire dragon hoard back to the clan for 400 miles! in the snow! with no wagon or horse neither, nay boy, let the Elves be keeping their magic, i'll stick to a good old strong back anyday"
*The Dwarf smirks to himself and pounds his chest with his fist, the echoing chain and plate ripples throughout the Alehouse, the Half-Elf sighs and looks away, whispering under his breath*
"Yeah, but your not the one carrying it are you..."
*The Dwarf catches wind and glares coldy at the Half-Elf, he lobs the axe back ontop of the pile, the boy trys desperatly to catch it without dropping more equipment onto the floor, he succeeds and breaths a sigh of relief*
"You be needing to put some muscle on your body anyway, dat be why you do the carrying! you take too much after ye da, all skinny and smoothskinned as he was, atleast he could actually put up a fight! once saw him take out an Orc Warchief with a single arrow from 400 yards! ye ma, God's be resting her soul, would be shocked to see what her only offspring done turned into! that lass could cast a fireball AND hold her own in a sword fight!..."
*Scratching his beard his stops and ponders for a moment, a smile creeping onto the side of his mouth, his eyes sparkle briefly, his smile turns to frown slowerly and he lowers his head as he remembers times long since passed, finally he shakes his head and grunts and storms off down the Alehouse*
"Keep up boy!", he shouts.
*The half-elf toddles afterhim, being careful to dodge the many chairs, stools and tables layered around the place, the Dwarf approaches the bar and takes a moment to expect the stool, clearly it was too big for him to sit on, he grumbles under his breath*
"What be this human bar? hows a Dwarf to sit this oversize stump?", he bellows, not aiming it at anyone in particular.
*After a moments pause he lets out a weary gruff sigh and hobbles up onto the stool, the challenge isnt has much of a burden as he complained but his heavy armor takes its tole, he finally shuffles himself to sit evenly on the stool, resting his left arm on the bar he slams his right hand onto the hard wooden surface*
"Whats a Dwarf gotta do to get a bloody Ale around ere?!"
*His complaing is interrupted with the Half-Elf tripping over a chair, his shocked screech is silenced with the loud clanging and bashing of the equipment rattling off the Alehouse's floor, the Dwarf groans without turning to look at the boy, slowerly he tilts his head to see a single round shield roll away from the now grounded equipement, the Half-Elf half buried within the mix, his head dorned with a helmet clearly too big for him, he takes a moment to breath out slowerly before catching the Dwarf's angry glare, he quickly jumps to his feet and trys desperatly to reform the equipment in his arms*
"Leave it be boy! i nay be having ye dent them peices anymore than they already are!"
*The Dwarf's turns back to the bar, his face still irratable from not being served yet, the Half-Elf nervously leaves the gear on the floor and makes his way over to the Dwarf, he remembers the helmet being on his head and slowerly removes it and drops it onto of the pile, he shuffles uncomftably as he passes a tavern patron with a scar across his eye who eyes him up cautiously, the boy attempts an nervous smile, the patron returns the gesture with a snarl and spitting on the floor, his pace is quickened as he rushes to the Dwarf's side.*