| In the Company of Seeds & Stems; Inter-kinship Alliance | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jun 21 2009, 09:33 AM (473 Views) | |
| Meinyard | Jun 21 2009, 09:33 AM Post #1 |
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A hale young hobbit slopes through the door, almost unnoticed. He looks about the place for a few moments before removing his cloak, hanging it on one of the hooks on the wall. The familial clink of weaponry can be heard as he props his spear and javelin in a corner. He wanders over to the bar and sits atop a stool. "Cup of coffee, please" he motions to the man behind the bar. The bar-tender looks at the hobbit with a quizzical expression. "Cup of tea, coming up" says the bar-tender. The hobbit sighs and rolls his eyes. "Caw-fee, not tea. One cup, black. Thank you." The man behind the bar just peers at the hobbit, his mouth hanging open slightly. "Coffee! You know, black-water from beans - not leaves." "Beans, sir?" the bar-tender asks. "Nevermind," moans the hobbit. He hops from the stool and sets himself at a table in the corner. From beneath his hauberk, the hobbit removes a small glass pipe, a multi-coloured pouch and a box of matches. Opening the pouch reveals an odd breed of pipe-weed, both in appearance and aroma. The hobbit takes a pinch of weed from the pouch and stuffs it in the bowl of his pipe. He leans back on two legs of the chair, strikes a match on his teeth and sets the leaf alight, inhaling deeply. As he exhales, the hobbit releases from his lungs a thick, billowing cloud of white, sweet-smelling smoke. The scent of blueberries and skunk-cabbage begins to waft about the room. The hobbit glances about the room, and smiles as he recognizes a few familial faces. The faces recognize him as well, and beckon him to their table. |
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| Mymir | Jun 21 2009, 09:44 AM Post #2 |
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RP Officer
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The door to the Inn swings open and hits the wall behind it. A tall, blond-haired Man walks into the room carrying a large sack over his shoulder. He walks to the bar and drops the sack rather roughly on the bar. The bundle inside the sack seems to still be alive and struggling to get out. The blonde raises a fist and brings it down on the sack forcefully. The struggling ceases. He looks at the barkeep and asks, "Is she back there?" The barkeep looks up at the man and nods, taking a step back from the bar while he does. The tall man takes hold of the sack and walks around the bar and into the back room. The sound of his voice can be heard from the common room. "Give me your best carving knives, we are having boar roast tonight." The shrill voice of a woman is heard responding. "Ye'll not be touching my good knives! Leave that thing here and I'll carve it m'self. Now git, before I decide to put a notch in yer hide as well!" The sound of scattering pots and pans can be heard echoing off the walls. Ducking as he backs out of the kitchen, the blonde man says, "I trust you to prepare it well. And none of your 'special spices' either, woman. The Dark Lord himself would combust from what you call 'mild'." A stirring spoon sails out of the kitchen and strikes the man squarely on his breastplate. The sound of metal on metal rings through the bar. Turning to the bar, he takes a bottle off the shelf, blows the dust off the label and says to the barkeep, "Add this to my tab." The barkeep merely nods again and goes back to cleaning the mugs on the bar. The blonde then turns and surveys the room. Noticing the hobbit sitting quietly, he takes the bottle and a mug and heads in that direction. He pulls out the chair, sits the mug and bottle on the table, then sits heavily in the chair. He looks down at the other occupant at the table, green eyes seeming to shine in the firelight, and says. "Welcome to Tharbad. I am Mymir. Emissary to the Council. What can I help you with?" With that he lifts the bottle to his mouth, pulls the cork with his teeth, and pours a large serving in the mug. Setting the bottle aside and holding the mug in his hands, he waits for a response. Edited by Mymir, Jun 21 2009, 05:41 PM.
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Mymir Darksinger - Rangers of Tharbad Erikr Darksinger - Highwaymen of the Crossroads 8 Long Street, Wildore Roleplaying Neighborhood "Treat every lover as your first, every meal as your last." | |
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| Meinyard | Jun 22 2009, 08:13 AM Post #3 |
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The hobbit inhales deeply from his pipe, staring at the blond-haired man. The hobbit coughs a bit, as wisps of smoke escape his nostrils. The hobbit turns his chin toward the ceiling, and exhales a thick billow of smoke. He smiles at the blonde-haired man in front him. "Hullo, hullo!" the hobbit nods and smiles at the man. "Mymir, Emissary of the Council, I am Meinyard, Pipe-weed Purveyor of the Shire," he says. Meinyard removes a small silver ring from his pocket. Holding it betwixt his thumb and forefinger, he raises it to one wide eye and, leaning forward, says "I'm thinking you'll find this of interest." He winks, and flips the ring on the table. It bounces with a clink, rolling toward the mug in front of Mymir where it settles like a coin. Mymir picks up the ring and examines it closely. "Yep," says Meinyard. "I chanced upon a few of your rangers, some nights ago in Bree-land." "Now, I'm not going to tell you we frolicked like children, playing tag. Nay; that would be inappropriate, what with the current state of Middle-earth and all." says the hobbit with a chuckle. "So, what I will say is that, after a fierce battle with brigands in the north hills, I found this ring - bearing the emblem of your rangers." "Let me reiterate," the hobbit continued "that I did not come across this ring after engaging your rangers in their frolicking. I mean, that wouldn't even make sense, as rangers don't frolic - least as far as I have ever known." Meinyard leans back in his chair, inhaling deeply from his pipe. |
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| Arathrad | Jun 22 2009, 09:30 AM Post #4 |
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Overseer
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Arathrad is sitting at his table in the corner of the Inn, with the hood of his cloak pulled low covering half of his face. As he is sitting there, ale in hand, thinking of where his travels will next take him, he notices a very familiar hobbit walk in the door. Hardly moving, just following him with his eyes, Arathrad watches Meinyard stroll over to the bar. He smiles as he watches the familiar face return to a table with the look of frustration on his face, and a cup of tea in his hand. Right as Arathrad is about to get up and greet his friend, the door to the Inn flies open and in walks Mymir. Chuckling a bit to himself as Mymir is yet again making some commotion in the Inn, he watches and waits as his friend finishes what he is doing and approaches the hobbit's table. Arathrad tries to listen as best he can to the conversation the two are having, but strains to hear the conversation from such a distance away. As he tries to listen, he suddenly hears Meinyard's voice quite clear, "Now, I'm not going to tell you we frolicked like children, playing tag..." At this, Arathrad begins to laugh and gets up from his chair and walks over to the table where they are sitting. Coming up from behind Meinyard and putting his hand on his small friend's shoulder he says, "Indeed, we were NOT merely frolicking; we were training in the ways of catching an enemy who is running away from you." Arathrad begins to laugh some more as he tries to explain what exactly the Rangers and the hobbit were doing in the Bree-land ruins. "Well...," he says, "when all else fails, let's just blame it on the alchohol and pipe-weed!" Arathrad then pulls out his mug, sits down, and pours himself a drink from the bottle Mymir set on the table. "So my friend," Arathrad says to the hobbit, "What brings you out to these parts today?" Sitting back in his chair, ale in hand, Arathrad listens intently as the hobbit speaks... Edited by Arathrad, Jun 22 2009, 09:35 AM.
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![]() A day may come when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship but it is not this day! An hour of wolves and shatterd shields when the age of men comes crashing down, but it is not this day, this day WE FIGHT!!! | |
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