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- In a Backwoods Pub
| In a Backwoods Pub; Part I (The Beginning) | |
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| Topic Started: October 29, 2008, 1:37 pm (7,215 Views) | |
| Roadbuster | October 29, 2008, 1:37 pm Post #1 |
Roadbuster
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[[Edit HolyIbanez: Modifying Caption]] Ground Rules: Not much. This is just kinda an experiment, and anyone is welcomed to join in at any time! The world will be a little toungue and cheek at times, and a little scary at times. - If you want to join, all you need to do is write in their character being found, met, rescued, or rescuing the ones that are there. We're not dealing with stats, we don't want to see your character sheet, don't want to know your 'alignment', and we're not going to be power-pimps. Keep your beginning weapons and gear normal, and assume you're low level. Introduce yourself, and write part of the world. We'll play off of whatever you write. You can write for other characters to a degree, but if it's something drastic, like making them take a specific action that may put them in harms way, please check with the player first. I'll occasionally control the 'outter world' and give us direction where needed. Edited by HolyIbanez, November 17, 2009, 10:30 pm.
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| Roadbuster | October 29, 2008, 1:59 pm Post #2 |
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Roadbuster
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Ahhhh... where to begin... Well, this story begins where all adventures seem to begin. Off a small country lane, near a heavily forested woodland, and at... of course... a rustic and queerly painted roadside inn. The Weaving Wench had stood on the edge of the Grislywood for nigh on ten years now, and it's two story wood and plaster exterior had undergone a hundred horrible colorations due to the owner's rather gaudy taste. For the moment, it was primarily yellow, with green trim. Stone steps lead up to the main entry way the front and center, which was flanked by large and rounded windows that were surrounded by green rickety shutters. Around back sat the squat flat stable. The smell of hay and manure often wafting out across the nearbye road, especially on warm summer days, much as this one. Snoryn Oakinbuute scratched his beard as he brought his havyset and rather portly pony to a halt just outside. His packs were set, filled with a pile of all the strange odds and ends that adventurers were said to need when they went a-questing. "Well, Janice..." the dwarf rumbled surily..ly as most dwarves are prone, "Maybe we can find a few extra folk here that would be willing to join us." With a yank, perhaps too hard of one, he prodded the pony forward. After stowing the pony in the stalls, Snoryn went back around front and pushed open the creaking double door into the warm, dry interior of the Weaving Wench. The sunlight that streamed through the multi-colored windows glinted off the curls in his reddish-orange beard as he surveyed the wood floored main room. It was exactly what one would expect of a common room. Wood floors. Wood tables. A large stone fireplace on one side. A bar, with a large portly man whose lineage was undoubtably muddled with one of the orcish races was polishing a glass and smiling with a toothy grin that was probably meant to be welcoming, yet with the sharp teeth that sat at disjointed directions truly only managed to take on the air of maliciousness. There was a good crowd here. The men from the local towns gathered near this place, along with the elves from the forest, and everything in between. A golbin sat mulling over his mug in a corner, and a rather drunk lepracaun sat extolling the virtues of pure gold across from him. Snoryn took a deep breath, smelling the sharp contrast of dust, sweat, fresh baked barley loaves, ale, and heavy, meaty stew. Yes... this looked like a good place to start an adventure. |
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| Blue Phoenix | October 30, 2008, 4:55 pm Post #3 |
Administrator-For-Life!
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Janice Burrenbreaker noticed the dwarf that had just arrived, but he was of no concern to her and her eyes remained focused on her current pigeon... a boisterous little man too small to climb onto his chair without jumping and too drunk to size up the woman who was becoming his opponent with his every further boasting breath. Sizing up the strength of his anger and the number of cups he had emptied, she played her cards. "I'm telling you, I know that gold," she taunted, "And it's far from pure... why, it couldn't carry your spells across the table let alone across the room." Janice was a friend to few and a mystery to all; she never stayed over long in a place and she never spoke of her ancestry ...which was probably only known for certain to her mother anyway... but she DID seem to do quite well for herself on her own. Extremely slim and somewhat pretty, her light brown curls framed her face with a softness that her pale green eyes chose to reflect only when she chose. Which wasn't often. "I'll set your toenails growing inward!" blustered the leprechaun, his tiny face turning even redder. "How dare you impune my gold!" Jumping from his chair to the floor, he stomped his feet and chanted a short angry grumble then waved the back of his hand toward the woman. She sat unmoving, seemingly unconcerned with the nasty little man's antics even while several other nearby patrons were busily moving their drinks out of the line of fire; apparently, they'd seen the little man's magicks before. A small gust of wind blew against her face, stirring up the dust that had long ago settled in the room and had also long ago given up on the hope of ever being swept back into the light of day. She narrowed her eyes slightly against the wind but her eyes never left his face, nor did her self-confidence fail her. The dust seemed to ricochet before it ever touched her, puffing in an odd direction and swirling around some poor sap who spilled his ale down his face in sodden surprise. When he lowered his tankard, many nasty-looking warts could be seen coming to life and growing between the bits of faded, food filtering beard that graced his chin. "As I said," said Janice, stretching her legs langurously under the table with unconcern, "Your pure gold's magic is as faulty as your brain. And as you boasted, you'll not be saddled to anything less than perfect, pure gold and the magic it lends you... so I'll be relieving you of that imperfect coin..." "Sorcerous bitch! Evil spawn! I'll turn you into a poor man's heat-sodden mule..." "Perhaps all that and more," she smiled suggestively. "Are you sure you want to try another spell? There's no way of telling if it will bounce toward another... or perhaps directly back to it's maker..." That thought gave him pause, for in his current state of mind he could not even THINK to understand what had just happened. Closing his mouth and fuming mightily, he slapped his precious gold piece onto the table before her and stormed out the door as fast as his wobbly drunken legs could carry him. Picking up the faulty gold piece and leaning her elbows on the table, she glanced around her, satisfied with the event. "Looks good on you," she nodded toward the warty man as he fumbled at his beard, and went back to her drink. |
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| Roadbuster | October 31, 2008, 4:07 pm Post #4 |
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Roadbuster
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Snoryn flags the bartender and orders himself a pint of the local ale. As he blew the head off and snuffled down into his glass, he watched with interest the game the girl played with the leprachaun. As the short, green coated fairy stomped his way out of the pub, Snoryn couldn't help suppress a shudder. He just didn't trust little people. Little people without proper beards that is. "So tell me, barkeep..." "Dagnabyt." "Excuse me?" "It's my name. Not barkeep... not waiter... not matre'de... not snaggletooth, and certainly not 'hey you'." "Oh... right... my apologies good..." Snoryn still wasn't quite sure what Dagnabyt was, so he just continued,"I don't suppose you have heard any news of anyone looking for an adventure, or perhaps with a job that they need doing..." "What?" "You know, a quest! Something that only a stalwart band of hearty adventurers can overcome!" Dagnabyt scratches his rear as he contemplates the dwarf sitting at his bar, "That tin pot on your head on too tight sonny?" "I... what? That's a helmet!" "Right. Look, I'm not yer local Gazzette. I'm not a job postings board. If you want to know what the last sob story I heard was, well, honestly I can't tell you. I usually tune people out within the first five seconds of their drawling and bawling stories." "Oh, well, I mean... then you haven't heard of anything." "No. You want another pint, or maybe some penuts? I'm yer manblood-orcanoid." he said with an air of finality. Meanwhile, outside the small Leprachaun was still stomping around, swearing in gaellic and stomping up and down on his walking cane. Whatever that girl-child was, she certainly wasn't human! He had been tricked! He had been duped! He had been... far too busy looking at her assets to realize what he was doing. Regardless! A Lepracaun can't let some mere girl make a mockery of the ancient magicks of his gold and kin! There was only one thing to do. A dark, malicious grin began to spread across the lepracaun's face, as his curly sideburns seemed to crackle with delight. He picked up his cane and immediately began to dance and jump about, singing and chanting in a strange lilt in the words of the ancient gaellic language of the fairies. The words translated into something akin to: A cabin on chicken legs with no windows and no door Rise up and take your eggs to civilization no more! Strange, large feathers began to sprout on the roof, the doors began to phase in and out, fadint away, along with the windows, and the sides began to bulge out, unbeknownst to the inhabitants, as he continued to repeat his chant... |
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| HolyIbanez | November 1, 2008, 6:37 pm Post #5 |
Sir Hawtness
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Raziel Logan sat quietly in the furthest corner from the door, his eyes leaving the gaze of the young maiden before him only when the door opened, noting each person that entered, but none warranting any other real attention than that. He was dressed in what appeared to be light leather armor, black, with what appeared to be metal studs woven in to protect the more critical areas of the body. On his back was a black cloak, the hood down, revealing a clean shaven, youthful face that many would consider attractive. His eyes were a deep blue green and provided a stark contrast to the shoulder length raven hair on his head. The maiden on the other hand was as fair as they come. Her long, blond hair was delicately braided, revealing a beautiful face, soft, with eyes the color of radiant sapphires. She appeared to be slightly uncomfortable, and talked quickly and incessantly about the most random things; well, random as far as Raziel was concerned. He did notice her clothes were rather common, yet her features did not match. There was also something odd about the way she spoke that did not befit one who appeared to be of such common stock. Raziel ate the hearty stew served to him by the part orc bartender with some appreciation. It was the first warm meal he had eaten in quite some time, and the ale soothed his nerves. As the maiden continued to talk, he wondered why this girl had decided to sit as his table and talk to him as though they had been friends for years. He didn't stop her though, so long as she was there, and the appearance was that she was with him, people didn't pay too much attention to either of them. And perhaps, though Raziel, that was the reason this princess of gab had sat before him on this evening. It didn't really matter what her motives were. She had no armor, no weapons, and posed no threat to him that he could discern. She seemed to have little care for who or what he was. The entire time she sat there, her eyes never left his face. It seemed to Raziel as if she thought she recognized him, and was trying her damnedest to figure who he as and where she knew him from. Raziel noted that the tavern was getting more and more crowded with all walks of life. With every patron that entered, Raziel watched, yet he knew that it was unlikely anyone entering this hole in the wall in the middle of nowhere would be someone he recognized. Never hurts to be careful... mused Raziel to himself as he instinctively watched as a dwarf entered the tavern and headed over to the bar. "You keep doing that." stated the girl. "Is my company so unwelcome or burdensome that you watch the door, hoping for someone to pass through and give you an excuse to depart?" Raziel raised an eyebrow at the girl before him. "No... quite the opposite actually. I am watching to make sure no one comes to steal you away, leaving me to converse with my mug and my plate," he flirtatiously replied, and he smiled as the girls cheeks flushed. She seemed satisfied she wasn't annoying him and resumed making small talk, though her talk was now less of a gush of nervous energy and more of casual conversation. There was something about her, he couldn't put his finger on it, but he found himself starting to actually participate in the conversation... Edited by HolyIbanez, November 1, 2008, 6:45 pm.
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  MyBrute: Become a pupil of RapierZwei! | |
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| Roadbuster | November 5, 2008, 6:06 pm Post #6 |
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Roadbuster
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Meanwhile, the windows to the pub had grown dark. The dwarf, and many of the others noted this only in the backs of their minds thinking 'It must be getting rainy outside.' But that little voice that warns us when something is odd was blaring in the back of Snoryn's head. Some odd air of foreboding... or maybe the off scent of magic in the air. Regardless, the populace in general seemed not to note the fading of the light through the brilliantly colored windows. Meanwhile, outside, two giant chicken-like legs had sprouted, bits of scraggly feathers jutting out at odd angles from the scaley skins. Planted firmly into the ground, they gave a might HEAVE and lifted the Pub right off it's wine cellars, and into the air with a mighty quake and shake! |
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| Blue Phoenix | November 6, 2008, 9:02 pm Post #7 |
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Administrator-For-Life!
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The patrons quickly went back to their strong drinks and their three-day-old stew and their petty arguments and boasts. If the matter didn't affect them directly, they were not about to get involved; it just wasn't wise. Nor did they much care what happened to others, not if they needed to keep their own skins whole. Janice pocketed her coin with a glance around the room to see if anyone was watching where she stowed it. As she expected, she had already lost their attention. That wasn't surprising, either. Although her top was a lovely shade of muted green that accented her eyes, and was obviously a well-seamed piece with beige embroidery at the collar and at the full-sleeved cuffs, her chosen outerwear was dusty brown pants tucked into her boots and worn close to the skin in case she had to climb a tree to avoid notice or run through heavy forest to avoid capture. Such was the life of a vagabond, and she was content to be unnoticed among the patrons. Wondering what she would do to liven up an otherwise boring afternoon, she reached for her remaining drink only to see it sloshing from one side to the other as if someone had suddenly tipped into her, yet the table was still solidly planted on the floor. It was more than just her drink, it seemed the whole world was going tipsy; she suddenly felt she was on the bow of a ship in rough waters -- the pitch and yaw were quite disagreeable, and brought bile to her throat. Around her several patrons had gotten to their feet and were beginning to look around them, disoriented but suspicious and looking toward the bartender as if the fault was his. |
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| Dreadnought | November 7, 2008, 4:12 pm Post #8 |
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A figure strode down stairs,obviusly coming from the rooms upstairs, likely haven just woken up or finished whatever it was she was doing in a bedroom at this time of day. Stretching the young woman twisted her neck to crack her spine and worked out the comfurtable soreness. The priestess of Khorne looked about the bar and didn't note anyone she thought worth killing, 'least not right now and simply moved to the bar, strioding through the light amd bulling through the crowd without care as befit a barberian of the Gruumesh tribe. Her skin was a golden hue, well tanede though unblemished save for the tribal tattos that seemed to crawl down her cheeks and neck into her clothes. Her eyes were an emerald green that seemed to shine in the darkness and her hair a deep cblood crimson though her eyebrows were a simple brown. Though adormed like a warrior she looked more a mother, ample bossum, rounded hips, more then one man had commented they would help her fulfill that station, most, however, looked to her attire and held her tongue. As travelers went she was a bit eccentric, her armor was a hodge-podge of differing pieces. A leather vambrance on her left arm, a right spiked gauntlet, brest plate over thin scalemale tucked into a heavy chain skirt that hung just past her knees. Brown fur lined leather boots protected her feet and a long exotic spear was held in her right hand. Though as unique as this was, it was fairly standard as adventuers go, they often had to cobble together whatever they could find for protection, no, what through most people were the skulls. Hanging from her spiked spalders were skulls, two from either shoulder at the end of thin lengths of chain that left them swaying just beneath her breasts when she walked and one large orc skull on a necklace. Idly she ran a thumb along the bone stud in her left ear and sat at the bar a few seats from the dwarf as if she either didn't notice or didn't care about the swaying of the room. "Dagnabyt." "Ragnfrídr," nodded the barkeep obviusly used to this patron for one reason or another. "Meat and alcohol?" "Meat and alcohol!" cheered the woman with a smile. Nodding with a smile of his own the orc-man poured a large tankard of something then went in back and returned a moment later with a plate. On the plate was a piece of raw bloody meat that looked completely uncooked and still bleeding. The woman slapped down a gold, obviusly over paying and began tearing into the meat with her sharpened needle like teeth. Edited by Dreadnought, November 7, 2008, 4:14 pm.
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| Roadbuster | November 7, 2008, 4:37 pm Post #9 |
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Roadbuster
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As she tore into the meat, she noticed that mostly everyone else seemed to be entering a state of general confusion. Now, this could very well be because of the minor earthquake that seemed to be enveloping the bar. Ok, maybe minor isn't the best word for it. A dwarf went tumbling past her chair like a sack of... rolly round things. He crashed into a table where a young woman was flirting with another gentleman, sending their plates flying. Well... actually any plate or drink that wasn't being actively held was already flying and crashing. The shakes were accompanied by a loud, rolling thumping noise. Almost as if two giant feet were walking around the building but never getting any further or nearer... |
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| Dreadnought | November 7, 2008, 5:12 pm Post #10 |
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"Dagnabyt, which giant did you piss off this time?" growled Ragnfridr as she rose to her feet and stabbed her spear into the ground to get better purchase and keep her balance. Still holding the bleeding meat in her left hand and letting the tankard of brew tumble over onto the bar the priestess fought her way to the door and attempted to shoulder it open, finding it held fast by a force too strong to be natural. "By the throne!" she swore. "Enough!" Grasping the side of the door to steady her self she held the spear out to her side. "Forge my hate into fire and wrap my weapon in rage that I might spill blood in your name!" The head of her spear ignighted and a moment later she thrust it forward causing an explosion of fire the bllew open the door and sent her sailing backwards threw a table and into the dwarf. Though immune to the fire of her own spell she was not immune toi the concusion of stabbing a wall. Looking up and incidently using the dwarf to help stand she looked out the gapping whole that used to be the door. "Are those tree tops?" "Hey, you owe me a door!" raged the barkeep. Edited by Dreadnought, November 7, 2008, 5:12 pm.
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| HolyIbanez | November 7, 2008, 9:58 pm Post #11 |
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Sir Hawtness
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Raziel's eyes narrowed and lips tightened as he went to shove another spoonful of stew into his mouth and the bowl began to slide away from him. He quickly grabbed and looked up at the maiden before him. He had thought she was the fairest maiden he had ever seen... until she managed to turn even a shade paler. Her blue eyes widened in alarm as the bar began to move like a sloop in rough waters. "You have got to be f---ing kidding me..." swore Raziel. The maiden turned her head, but with her back to the door, she couldn't get a good view. "What is it?" she said weakly. Turning his attention back on the girl, Raziel was going to answer when he realized that the pale girl wasn't looking so good. She stood up, but was forced to hold onto the table for support, and visibly swallowed what Raziel assumed was the contents of the meal she had just finished. Raziel stood as well, and placed a reassuring hand on the girl's shoulder. Why am I being so nice to this stranger? Quickly burying the thought, Raziel told the girl to sit and stay put. He walked past the battle mage freak lady and the dwarf she landed on and headed for the door, his cloak moving behind him with the wind the hole in the doorway had let in. Placing a hand on the charred wall, he simply watched the tree tops go by. "Well this sucks...." he muttered to himself, unsure what to do. The girl watched as her dark haired dinner companion walked to where the door used to be as though it were perfectly natural to walk on a moving surface. She was pretty sure her stomach was intentionally flipping the opposite direction of each movement just to annoy her, and should she ignore it, it was quick to send her dinner back to her mouth to let her know it was there. Edited by HolyIbanez, January 30, 2009, 8:40 pm.
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MyBrute: Become a pupil of RapierZwei! | |
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| Dreadnought | November 7, 2008, 10:53 pm Post #12 |
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"Don't just stand there like a rigid piece of man-meat," grumbled the priestes as she crossed the floor back to the doorway. Almost knocking Raziel over Ragnfidr looked outside at the swaying treetops and then down. "Oh, LEGS! Dagnabyt, your stupid bar is walking around!" They didn't have many options unless the bar just decided to stop walking and she was rather certain it either wouldn't or it would stop in some horrible monster infested place that they'd have to fight their way out of. A large smile rippled across her face at THAT prospect, more skulls for Khorne were always welcome. "Or it'll walk us off a cliff." Leaning against the door frame she rubbed her chin in thought. "We could jump, it's not that high. I could kill a couple people and use their blood to summon some demon hounds or we can use some rope to trip it up, unless some one knows a counter spell. I'm leaning towards summoning demon hounds, what do you think Pirate?" |
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| HolyIbanez | November 8, 2008, 5:06 am Post #13 |
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Sir Hawtness
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Raziel's eyes focused on the warrior before him. There was no way she could possibly know, and if she did, depending on who she actually was, it might not even matter. But now was not the time or place for such discussions or musings. Still, he couldn't let it go without saying something. "Pirate?" he asked, laughing slightly. "Not sure I get your reference, but that matters not. Now normally, such an affront would require some sort of consequence, but given the situation, I'll let it slide." "That didn't answer my question." she responded. Sighing, Raziel responded quietly. "Jumping may or may not be a safe choice. Do what you must, but leave the blond alone." Raziel wasn't exactly pleased with the idea of killing people to summon some demon hounds; he wasn't really a big fan of demons. "Which one is the blond?" she responded. Raziel gestured to the maiden who had dined with him that evening who was holding her head as if holding it would stop it from spinning. "That one." Raziel wasn't sure the warrior would heed his request, nor was he sure why she even cared what he thought, nor was he even sure why he was making demands of a warrior clad in what was probably the skulls of her enemies for a stranger. This night just kept getting stranger and stranger, and he just hoped it didn't end up getting him killed or worse. Edited by HolyIbanez, November 8, 2008, 5:22 am.
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MyBrute: Become a pupil of RapierZwei! | |
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| Blue Phoenix | November 8, 2008, 9:19 pm Post #14 |
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Administrator-For-Life!
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"I can't imagine that someone with your temperament has much experience with the rigidity of man-meat," quipped Janice, poking at one of the darkened windows and listening to the hollow sound made by the glass being encased from the outside, "But i suppose that's a debate for another time. "Also do i doubt that hellhounds will be of much use in this predicament; this sort of magic would most likely be out of their limited range of experience." Tapping her fingers together, almost in a prayer movement, then placing the fingertips on her pursed lips, Janice Burrenbreaker strolled around the room, deep in thought. "I don't suppose anyone here has heard the legends of old Grandma Ба́ба-Яга́*, have they? It seems to me this is more a riddle than an outright fight-to-the-death..." she looked up to see the female warrior put her hand on her blade menacingly "...unless that's the only response you have in your arsenal..." *Baba Yaga |
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| Dreadnought | November 9, 2008, 3:21 pm Post #15 |
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"The only answer, of course not, but rarely a better one you'll find," smilled Ragnfidr at the brunette. Idly the priestes assesed the woman speaking though to what end none could say. "The legs arn't that big, I've seen the hounds take down larger monsters. Oh sure we'll crash, but we'll stop." "No crashing!" shouted Dagnabyte. "Ya done enough to my tavern!" "Well you got some Orcy magic that stops wandering huts?" "..." "Didn't think so. Never heard of Ба́ба-Яга́, I don't collect tales, just skulls. So if you've got something more then reasons not to do anything, please share darling." She paused, "where'd I drop that meat?" |
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| SonofSargas | November 9, 2008, 5:30 pm Post #16 |
wandering teacher of the bizarre and unusual
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Suddenly, the northernmost window bursts inward and an average looking non-descript man and his dog enter. “Bloody ‘ell, it’s cold out there.” The gale force wind blows snow and ice into the otherwise warm building. “Oops, I recon the winders ain’t supposed to open inward, are they?” There is a silence in the bar as both staff and customers look at a being dressed in white fur and white boots as he moves toward the fireplace. His dog grasps an overstuffed chair and drags it toward the warmth. “Y’all don’t mind if I warm my weary bones by the fire? Yo, barkeep, may I have a hot mulled wine, please? What kinda food do y’all have available? Please bring some meat and milk for my dog.” With that request, he removes his outer-garments, revealing a cloak that makes everyone who looks upon it dizzy and naseous. “Sorry.” Removing his cloak, he folds it and places it in one of the pockets of his tunic. “I just need a little quiet time to read a couple of tomes. Barkeep, a round of drinks for the house, and some cold ale for me and my dog.” With this said, he opens a book and settles back into his seat. His dog looks around the room, curls down at his feet and starts purring. Edited by SonofSargas, November 9, 2008, 5:32 pm.
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| Blue Phoenix | November 10, 2008, 2:33 am Post #17 |
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Administrator-For-Life!
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"You picked a great time to visit, Mister. I don't suppose you could take an extra passenger or two on your way out...?" Having already kicked Ragnfríðr's raw meat toward the newcomer's dog, Janice continued to move around the room, trying to recall the tales her mother told her long ago. "Isn't this thing supposed to be under someone's control? I mean, is it just wandering wild? And did anyone think to ask why the Hades it just decided to up and take a stroll???" Moving behind the bar, she began to rummage in the barkkeep's supplies. |
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| Dreadnought | November 10, 2008, 3:04 am Post #18 |
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The piece of meat on the floor was speared just before the dog could snatch it up. "MINE" Smilling the priestes took another bite before walking back towards the door. "Nope didn't think so," she commented off handedly as she looked at the passing trees and continued her next move. "It's going to be a pain in the ass getting back to my horse, I hope he doesn't eat anyone in the stable." Shrugging she lifted the orc skull from her necklace to her left ear, "what do you think?" "..." "Without wrecking Dagnabytes' tavern." "..." "You're right, Urd was a powerful wizard of Tzeench wasn't he? Smart man," noted Ragnfríðr as she planted a peck on the skull where it's lips would be had it posssed flesh. Aiming a thumb at some drunken fool doubled over to her left she asked. "Dag, how much this guy owe you?" "Him? Punk owes me eight gold pieces for all the swill he drinks and you owe me three for the door! And HIM," Dagnabyt pointed at the man with the dog. "He owes me two for the window!" Ragnfríðr considered for a moment and began counting out gold pieces into a satchel as she leaned against the wall. The whole time she was muttering to herself about one thing or another while finishing the piece of beef Dagnabyt had brought her earlyer. Smilling she threw the pouch to the barkeep. "Here's twenty." Dagnabyt counted, as best he could whilst the bar was swaying then looked up in puzzelment, "what's the other five for?" "The mess," answered Ragnfríðr as she drove the end of her spear into the throught of the drunkard killing him instantly. Slowly the blood seemed to pull out of his body as if collecting in the air. "By the blood of the foul and the life of the foolish I bessech you changer of ways grant a boon to this your disciple, driink in the life essence of the damned and release from your infnite halls one soul for one moment." The lood boiled before bursting into flames and transforming in color to a radient blue. Gently, reverently she guided the blood to one of the skulls hanging off her right shoulder. There was a moment of silence before a sucking fwoosh seemed to drag air into the skull and ignight a pallid green flame behind it's sockets. "Why have I been drawn from the ever changing halls of my master?" asked the skull. "Cause momma needs a spell, stop this hut from walking...without wrecking it." The jaw of the skull opened and out flowed a creeping yellowed mist. It drifted along the floor causing the wood to split and grow small patches of moss and little creeping stems of flowers ad roots as though it was briefly brought to life before the moss dried up and the flowers withered and died. The mist spilled out of the door and into the legs of the hut causing thick rootts and thin vines to crawl from it's flesh and with a sharp lurch the hut came to a wobbly halt, then another slight shift as the hut triied to keep moving and failed. Outside the legs had been transformed into a pair of large and sturdy tree trunks rooted firmly into the earth. "The price," began the skull as it's inner light began to fade. "Shall be a years of your life on this side and the next to my Master of Change." "Done," nodded Ragnfríðr as a small tether of her essence was dragged away giving her a single lock of silver hair. She looked at it and shrugged, it looked nice honestly so she just strolled over to the bar and sat down. "You still owe me alcohol, you're stupid hut spilled it Dagnabyt." Dagnabyt poured her a new mug and Ragnfríðr got back to drinking it. Edited by Dreadnought, November 10, 2008, 3:13 am.
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| Roadbuster | November 10, 2008, 2:05 pm Post #19 |
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Roadbuster
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Snoryn was quite happy at this point. He had wanted a grand adventure, and a party of hearty adventurers, and so it seemed he had found them. As he pulled a bowl of stew off his head, he looked towards the broken window. "Did anyone else notice that it's snowing through the window, but through the doorway it's a sunny warm summer day!??" Getting up and waddling over to the door... now that he knew the place was shaking, his dwarven legs seemed fairly stable in keeping him on his feet, he pushed out some broken shards of the window, and glared into the snowy blizzard beyond. "Holy pattern balding!" he gaped as he looked through, "Blood preistess, pirate boy, magic girl, dog man... and the blond chick... look through this thing! It doesn't got back into the woodlands! By my beard! It's a frozen landscape!!" Sure enough, through the window, instead of the bouncy, rolling woodlands that shook past the strange chickenlegged hut's doorway, there was a frozen landscape. Of course, this was just natural for the stranger with the dog... who wasn't sure he liked being called 'dog man' ... The snow from the lands he was traveling in was still melting on his clothes and his dog's fur. To him, it was much stranger that there were sunny woods outside the doorway! Edited by Roadbuster, November 10, 2008, 2:07 pm.
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| HolyIbanez | November 10, 2008, 9:48 pm Post #20 |
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Sir Hawtness
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Raziel turned his gaze on the dwarf. Had he been the crazy magic skull lady, he probably would have turned the dwarf to ash with his stare. "Pirate boy? Do I look like a f---ing pirate?" Logan spat at the dwarf. Raziel would of course never admit to strangers he had most of his career as a pirate; but that was all in the past. Though being called a pirate was not really an insult to Raziel, he had great respect for pirates, he preferred not be called something he was not, unless he was being paid otherwise. Tilting his head to right and then the left, he heard and felt the gratifying cracks as his vertebrae aligned themselves. After watching the display of violence the skull clad warrior had used to stop the tavern, he was glad he had decided not to challenge her summary of himself as pirate. Raziel felt a slight touch on his right arm, and a soft voice next to him. "I'm sure he meant nothing by it. You were moving around the tavern as if its movement was of no consequence to you; which to many, would imply a life at sea, and given your garb, one could extrapolate a life at sea that was one of combat and adventure. So, would pirate not be, while perhaps erroneous, a logical assumption of your profession for one who does not know you?" Raziel turned to face the maiden he had dined with. She was looking a bit better since the tavern had stopped moving, but was leaning slightly on Raziel as she had not quite regained her balance. Who is this girl? was all Raziel could think as he actually found himself apologizing to the dwarf. A cold winter wind gusted through the window at that moment, drawing Raziel's attention to the paradox represented by the window and the door. "Well, at least we stopped moving..." he stated, half sarcastically, half exasperated. Well, I'm not dead, though whether or not this is worse than dead remains to be seen... Edited by HolyIbanez, January 23, 2009, 10:13 pm.
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