The Drunken Dragon is never quiet during these evenings. Mercenaries, farmers, merchants, many come here during the evening for food, ale, and stories. The Drunken Dragon attracts many mercenaries as it is a popular location to hire adventurers. Which is good, as Larkdust also attracts thieves, bandits, and cultists in rather large numbers. Merchants represent their caravans in the recruiting room. You are seasoned adventurers, and have taken several contracts here before. However, times are changing, and finding other mercenaries to work with might be beneficial.
Introduce your characters, everyone! You can have them start from a position of already being in the tavern or have them come in. JFCapps, this is your hometown. Everyone else, you traveled here for mercenary work. Feel free to start a tavern brawl, argue with the bartender about prices of ale, or cast fireball in the middle of the tavern.
Agar looked at the sign of the Drunken Dragon for a moment and regretted - not for the first time - having to go through this yet again. This was a place unknown to him and he was unknown to anyone here, and that's precisely why he came here. He had grown comfortable, living in the same place and working with the same adventurers, his friends. But he had to stay ahead of the pursuers. The pattern repeated itself many times over the years since he left his home: he'd pose as an ordinary wizard and join on adventures while keeping a low profile, then inevitably they'd run into a situation where his special abilities would be needed and his secret would be out. Rumor spread like wildfire among adventurers, in taverns just like this one, and he would have to go.
This is what I get for yeas of service to my country, the existence of a hunted man. He'd been a spy, once, using his family's special talents to acquire intelligence and perform covert missions. And it meant that he knew too much, even if he had no intention of using that knowledge against them.
This time, he decided, he would try a slightly different approach. He pushed the door of the tavern open and entered, then headed for the bar. With a nod and a friendly smile, he said "Hi, I'm an adventurer from far away, I've just arrived. Can I please have a drink and a meal and a table?"
Agar looked at the sign of the Drunken Dragon for a moment and regretted - not for the first time - having to go through this yet again. This was a place unknown to him and he was unknown to anyone here, and that's precisely why he came here. He had grown comfortable, living in the same place and working with the same adventurers, his friends. But he had to stay ahead of the pursuers. The pattern repeated itself many times over the years since he left his home: he'd pose as an ordinary wizard and join on adventures while keeping a low profile, then inevitably they'd run into a situation where his special abilities would be needed and his secret would be out. Rumor spread like wildfire among adventurers, in taverns just like this one, and he would have to go.
This is what I get for yeas of service to my country, the existence of a hunted man. He'd been a spy, once, using his family's special talents to acquire intelligence and perform covert missions. And it meant that he knew too much, even if he had no intention of using that knowledge against them.
This time, he decided, he would try a slightly different approach. He pushed the door of the tavern open and entered, then headed for the bar. With a nod and a friendly smile, he said "Hi, I'm an adventurer from far away, I've just arrived. Can I please have a drink and a meal and a table?"
"Take a seat at any open table, somebody will bring you over something to eat and some ale"
Xerrix stumbles into the tavern, Xerrix a dragonborn with green scales covered by a dirty dark blue cloak poorly hiding his metal armor, blades and gauntlets. A fresh scar on his face leaks onto his chin before his finger nabs it, he inspects it, and wipes the blood on his robe. "Those bandits sure did a number on me," he thinks to himself. He then laughs to himself, "But I did a number on them." He grabs a chair at a random table, not noticing the human already sitting there, accidentally touching a scar, flinching and reorienting himself. He asks anyone workin here, "Could I get the strongest drink you have."He then sees Agar, "Eh, uh, this seat taken?"Tapping a claw on the table.
The Drunken Dragon. The door opens, the hinges squeaking as Dabbert pushes his way into the bar. He's already smiling, his eyes a bit glassy with drink. Amazingly, you can smell Dabbert's alcohol intake over the naturally occurring filth of the bar.
"Eschon!" He says, pointing at the bar and grinning. "Stout! A big one!"
He bellies up to the bar, his hands gripping the edge of the counter as he steadies himself. He sways ever so slightly, his natural swagger exaggerated now by the healthy buzz he has going. When the beverage is passed to him, he turns around, points at a couple of people in the crowd, raucously announces their names as he looks about, and says 'Here's to you!' before turning the stein up and emptying it. It thumps when he sits it back on the bar and he asks Eschon for a refill.
Dabbert turns around, scanning the room, waving again at the Dwarf, Daxter Arcfare, sitting nearest the hearth in the back of the room, before his eyes glide easily over the Dragonborn and the fellow next to him, continuing on their way around the room. He reaches behind him when he hears the stein return and picks it up, returning it to his lips.
Agar took a seat at a table with his back to the wall, ordered himself a drink and a meal and cast detect thoughts without making the requisite gestures or saying the incantation. Perhaps it was just paranoia but it wouldn't be the first time he'd managed to walk into a trap. He probed everyone's surface thoughts, careful not to tip anyone off, as he seemingly concentrated on his food.
When the dragonborn sat down at his table, he was annoyed momentarily, but since he seemed like another adventurer, decided to roll with it. With a friendly smile he replied, "No, it's not taken. Are you alright? Do you need a healer? Name's Agar by the way."
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Con Save: 11
Xerrix's thoughts are messy wave of questions, "Who's this? What's he like? Friend, or Foe?" Until they are all muttered out by a bigger, "That was a heaver drink than I thought!" f He than taps his scar, trying not to wince, "This? This is fine, I've had much worse. Agar, was it? The name's Xerri, pleasure to meet you."He gives Agar a big, spiked tooth grin, with black acid dripping from on of his fangs.
The nightly rounds did one thing better than anything else; they got Dabbert's mind off of everything. While he'd normally stick to the Sick Rat or the Broken Keg, the Dragon was nice sometimes just for the shear size of the place and the multitude of people it brought in. It was good for finding work, finding dates, finding friends...well. It was just good for finding in general.
Case in point was Daxter in the back of the room. The Dwarf had raised his mug to Dabbert when a toast, as unheard as it had been, was raised, and was now motioning for his old comrade to join him next to the hearth. Dabbert hadn't polished off the stein yet, looked down at its contents, and thought hard about if he wanted to get a refill yet or not, then decided screw it and took off across the center of the tavern floor. He tapped one fellow on the back, slipped past as he turned sideways, bumped another hard with his shield, then said 'pardon me' as he slipped past a lady who was leaning over a table to talk to a fellow on the other side from her.
"Dax you ugly bastard, how you been?" Dabbert said with a laugh as he slid in next to the Dwarf and patted him on the back with fervor. "I figured you were still out with the Skullsplitters near the Voltus Mountains. It's good to see you back though!"
The Dwarf offered up an explanation about their deployment having been ended early because of some political mumbo jumbo and whatnot but, really, Dabbert had drank a little too much to give a crap about that right now. He just wanted to get loaded in good company and while he was usually a bit of a social butterfly, he always like to warm up talking to someone familiar first. His eyes scanned the rest of the room while he polished off his drink and then looked thoughtfully into the empty mug.
The Drunken Dragon is never quiet during these evenings. Mercenaries, farmers, merchants, many come here during the evening for food, ale, and stories. The Drunken Dragon attracts many mercenaries as it is a popular location to hire adventurers. Which is good, as Larkdust also attracts thieves, bandits, and cultists in rather large numbers. Merchants represent their caravans in the recruiting room. You are seasoned adventurers, and have taken several contracts here before. However, times are changing, and finding other mercenaries to work with might be beneficial.
Introduce your characters, everyone! You can have them start from a position of already being in the tavern or have them come in. JFCapps, this is your hometown. Everyone else, you traveled here for mercenary work. Feel free to start a tavern brawl, argue with the bartender about prices of ale, or cast fireball in the middle of the tavern.
Agar looked at the sign of the Drunken Dragon for a moment and regretted - not for the first time - having to go through this yet again. This was a place unknown to him and he was unknown to anyone here, and that's precisely why he came here. He had grown comfortable, living in the same place and working with the same adventurers, his friends. But he had to stay ahead of the pursuers. The pattern repeated itself many times over the years since he left his home: he'd pose as an ordinary wizard and join on adventures while keeping a low profile, then inevitably they'd run into a situation where his special abilities would be needed and his secret would be out. Rumor spread like wildfire among adventurers, in taverns just like this one, and he would have to go.
This is what I get for yeas of service to my country, the existence of a hunted man. He'd been a spy, once, using his family's special talents to acquire intelligence and perform covert missions. And it meant that he knew too much, even if he had no intention of using that knowledge against them.
This time, he decided, he would try a slightly different approach. He pushed the door of the tavern open and entered, then headed for the bar. With a nod and a friendly smile, he said "Hi, I'm an adventurer from far away, I've just arrived. Can I please have a drink and a meal and a table?"
"Take a seat at any open table, somebody will bring you over something to eat and some ale"
Xerrix stumbles into the tavern, Xerrix a dragonborn with green scales covered by a dirty dark blue cloak poorly hiding his metal armor, blades and gauntlets. A fresh scar on his face leaks onto his chin before his finger nabs it, he inspects it, and wipes the blood on his robe. "Those bandits sure did a number on me," he thinks to himself. He then laughs to himself, "But I did a number on them." He grabs a chair at a random table, not noticing the human already sitting there, accidentally touching a scar, flinching and reorienting himself. He asks anyone workin here, "Could I get the strongest drink you have." He then sees Agar, "Eh, uh, this seat taken?" Tapping a claw on the table.
The Drunken Dragon. The door opens, the hinges squeaking as Dabbert pushes his way into the bar. He's already smiling, his eyes a bit glassy with drink. Amazingly, you can smell Dabbert's alcohol intake over the naturally occurring filth of the bar.
"Eschon!" He says, pointing at the bar and grinning. "Stout! A big one!"
He bellies up to the bar, his hands gripping the edge of the counter as he steadies himself. He sways ever so slightly, his natural swagger exaggerated now by the healthy buzz he has going. When the beverage is passed to him, he turns around, points at a couple of people in the crowd, raucously announces their names as he looks about, and says 'Here's to you!' before turning the stein up and emptying it. It thumps when he sits it back on the bar and he asks Eschon for a refill.
Dabbert turns around, scanning the room, waving again at the Dwarf, Daxter Arcfare, sitting nearest the hearth in the back of the room, before his eyes glide easily over the Dragonborn and the fellow next to him, continuing on their way around the room. He reaches behind him when he hears the stein return and picks it up, returning it to his lips.
DM of AURYN: The Measure of Devotion - Escape from New York
DM of Legacy of NIMH
VeloElo: Xerrix needs to make a Constituition save when he drinks some incredibly strong ale
Ikarbino: The food here grants you 5 temporary hit points
Agar took a seat at a table with his back to the wall, ordered himself a drink and a meal and cast detect thoughts without making the requisite gestures or saying the incantation. Perhaps it was just paranoia but it wouldn't be the first time he'd managed to walk into a trap. He probed everyone's surface thoughts, careful not to tip anyone off, as he seemingly concentrated on his food.
When the dragonborn sat down at his table, he was annoyed momentarily, but since he seemed like another adventurer, decided to roll with it. With a friendly smile he replied, "No, it's not taken. Are you alright? Do you need a healer? Name's Agar by the way."
Con Save: 11
Xerrix's thoughts are messy wave of questions, "Who's this? What's he like? Friend, or Foe?" Until they are all muttered out by a bigger, "That was a heaver drink than I thought!" f He than taps his scar, trying not to wince, "This? This is fine, I've had much worse. Agar, was it? The name's Xerri, pleasure to meet you." He gives Agar a big, spiked tooth grin, with black acid dripping from on of his fangs.
The nightly rounds did one thing better than anything else; they got Dabbert's mind off of everything. While he'd normally stick to the Sick Rat or the Broken Keg, the Dragon was nice sometimes just for the shear size of the place and the multitude of people it brought in. It was good for finding work, finding dates, finding friends...well. It was just good for finding in general.
Case in point was Daxter in the back of the room. The Dwarf had raised his mug to Dabbert when a toast, as unheard as it had been, was raised, and was now motioning for his old comrade to join him next to the hearth. Dabbert hadn't polished off the stein yet, looked down at its contents, and thought hard about if he wanted to get a refill yet or not, then decided screw it and took off across the center of the tavern floor. He tapped one fellow on the back, slipped past as he turned sideways, bumped another hard with his shield, then said 'pardon me' as he slipped past a lady who was leaning over a table to talk to a fellow on the other side from her.
"Dax you ugly bastard, how you been?" Dabbert said with a laugh as he slid in next to the Dwarf and patted him on the back with fervor. "I figured you were still out with the Skullsplitters near the Voltus Mountains. It's good to see you back though!"
The Dwarf offered up an explanation about their deployment having been ended early because of some political mumbo jumbo and whatnot but, really, Dabbert had drank a little too much to give a crap about that right now. He just wanted to get loaded in good company and while he was usually a bit of a social butterfly, he always like to warm up talking to someone familiar first. His eyes scanned the rest of the room while he polished off his drink and then looked thoughtfully into the empty mug.
DM of AURYN: The Measure of Devotion - Escape from New York
DM of Legacy of NIMH