You might already be full but here is my character just in case....
Brac Galitron
47, Human, Barbarian.
Brac pushes the wooden door open, it swings hard and hits the wall behind it. Some of the patrons look up, clearly irritated by the noise the brute has produced. Brac, noticing this, turns and tries to slowly and quietly close the door. When he pushes it shut however he once again puts too much force into it and the door slams harder then necessary. The scene before him is odd. It was eerily quite for the amount of people...usually there would be some drunk carrying on or at least a fight about to start...but not here....it was almost like a library or at least what Brac thought a library would be like not having actually entered one in his entire life. The barbarian walked over to the bar and sat next to some smug looking fellow. "I will have a drink sir!" He bellowed, once again drawing the attention of the people in the inn. Brac tries to start a conversation with the man at the bar, not having a great sense of reading people he clearly is not picking up on what everyone else is. "How's the booze here? Strange little place this is, I haven't been in these parts until now" The barkeep brings over a drink for the barbarian. Brac takes it straight from his hand and gulps it down in one motion. He slams the tankard on the bar and put his hand on the strangers shoulder. "Nice! It's not too bad at all!
Make contact, take the package, then return: Those were the instructions. As he approaches the building Qasimir pauses, listening and watching. This is a place to which he has no need nor desire to ever return.
Loitering briefly in the shadows, his cloak wrapped tightly about him, his form changes subtly to that of a skinny man of middling years, dark rings under his eyes and a slightly deformed leg. He is accustomed to places where most others fear to tread, but this place rings more alarm bells than the deepest dive in a big city. He transfers a few coppers to various pockets, then stows his coin purse securely.
Limping up to the building he pauses on the in the doorway, coughing loudly and wetly, then slowly moves toward the bar rubbing his deformed leg.
“Ale. Cheapest you have,” he says, then looks around the room, trying to identify who might be his contact. He examines the man at the bar before adding loudly, “Looks like harvest will be late this year.”
The pass phrase spoken, he looks around the room for reaction before turning back to the bar. When his drink arrives he empties several pockets in the hunt for elusive copper coins.
Absinthe Perdin giggles to herself. This place is far too quiet! Taking out her lyre, she plucks out a simple scale to get the bartender's attention.
"Well met, kind and generous barkeep!" she calls out, her voice dry and croaky. "Please, let me play for my meal, I do believe it is too quiet in here!"
At this, she crawls onto a table, and begins to play a popular folk song, embellished somewhat to highlight her skill on the lyre.
A deep exhausted sigh escapes Khaun as he makes his way through the tavern door. 'How long has it been now?' he asks himself as he glances around at the patrons having not seen another person in far too long. Nudging past a couple of people locked in conversation he makes his way towards the bar, leaning on the counter not far from the "king of the tavern". 'At least two or three years ...' his thoughts lean back to when he left his clan and set out on his own. Two harsh summers with another on the horizon, 'definitely closer to three than two' he decides with a nod to himself before catching the eye of the tavernkeeper.
"Three ales" he grumbles as the tavernkeeper steps before him. Reaching into a small pouch he pulls out enough coin to pay for the drinks then adds a few more, "Looking for work around these parts if you know of anything." His tired eyes glance up towards the tavernkeeper before his gaze trails over to where the "King" sits.
As he sees the building, Thorak thinks it might be a good deserted place to rest, lest he spends some coin. As he comes near the door he hears muffled voices and thinks to himself, - "here we go again..." , before forcefully and loudly slamming the door open. To his surprise he sees a lively room and only now understands that it is an inn and starts turning away to search for another place to later spend the night, but as he turns away the soft scent of Ale and Stew reaches his nostrils, and a low stomach growl can be heard. He stops, turns again into the inn and with a weight on his step, walks confidently straight to the counter.
You see a big pale brown, grey eyed Half-Orc with long hair tied up in a bun, wolf pelt covering his shoulders, leather pants, black boots with a bit of fur on top and one hand holding a greataxe supported on his right shoulder.
As he's seating, a dry, gruff voice rushes out to the barkeep, -"Barkeep, how much for the stew? and does it come with a pint of Ale?". Right as he says this you hear the loud creaking of the wooden materials on the stool and the counter as he finds a proper seating position, just to be superceded by the sound of his backpack hitting the floor and the sound of a low pitched metallic ring as the head of the greataxe touches the floor keeping the handle right next to his leg.
He sits there looking directly to the bartender as he's waiting for a reply.
Rus examines the tavern before entering, touching some of the small plants that grow on its exterior. A slight grin rises inside as a small memory of home comes to mind. He shakes off the strange feeling that creeps up his spine as he peaks inside. But the quietness, though strange for this type of place, is welcome to him. Rus thinks back on the quiet forest of his clan. He missed home. But then he remembers. He's here for a reason. Russ walks inside quietly and approaches the bar and and keeper. "Fresh juice if you have it, ale if not," Rus requests. He lowers his voice to a quiet whisper. "Who is that?"
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Though not currently a member, seeking admission to the really long and important signature club. Please consider this as a current CV.
Upon entering the common room, I scan briefly the patrons and staff, taking in all that might be of interest or threat. As I make my way to the bar I discreetly size up those who caught my attention at first glance being sure to keep my distance from others lest any cutpurse decide to “bump into me”.
I take my place at the far end of the room, so as to keep my back to the wall and my eye on the main door (as well as any other exits). When the barkeep approaches to serve me, I order a flagon of ale and slip them a few extra coppers, on top of the customary tip, and mention that I’m looking for work. “Do you know of anyone in need of a soldier for an adventure?”, I ask. “I’m new in town and could use some work.”.
I listen as closely as possible to the answer, while simultaneously watching (surreptitiously and with great interest) the conversation initiated by the brash newcomer who approached the “king” at the center of the counter; thinking to myself, “This could be entertaining.”.
Done, thanks for helping me out
I changed my race to a variant human.
You might already be full but here is my character just in case....
Brac Galitron
47, Human, Barbarian.
Brac pushes the wooden door open, it swings hard and hits the wall behind it. Some of the patrons look up, clearly irritated by the noise the brute has produced. Brac, noticing this, turns and tries to slowly and quietly close the door. When he pushes it shut however he once again puts too much force into it and the door slams harder then necessary. The scene before him is odd. It was eerily quite for the amount of people...usually there would be some drunk carrying on or at least a fight about to start...but not here....it was almost like a library or at least what Brac thought a library would be like not having actually entered one in his entire life. The barbarian walked over to the bar and sat next to some smug looking fellow. "I will have a drink sir!" He bellowed, once again drawing the attention of the people in the inn. Brac tries to start a conversation with the man at the bar, not having a great sense of reading people he clearly is not picking up on what everyone else is. "How's the booze here? Strange little place this is, I haven't been in these parts until now" The barkeep brings over a drink for the barbarian. Brac takes it straight from his hand and gulps it down in one motion. He slams the tankard on the bar and put his hand on the strangers shoulder. "Nice! It's not too bad at all!
https://ddb.ac/characters/73199239/jBBDjS
Discord - Batmaceli#2953
So how or when will I know if i have been accepted to the game?
thanks again for the help
Make contact, take the package, then return: Those were the instructions. As he approaches the building Qasimir pauses, listening and watching. This is a place to which he has no need nor desire to ever return.
Loitering briefly in the shadows, his cloak wrapped tightly about him, his form changes subtly to that of a skinny man of middling years, dark rings under his eyes and a slightly deformed leg. He is accustomed to places where most others fear to tread, but this place rings more alarm bells than the deepest dive in a big city. He transfers a few coppers to various pockets, then stows his coin purse securely.
Limping up to the building he pauses on the in the doorway, coughing loudly and wetly, then slowly moves toward the bar rubbing his deformed leg.
“Ale. Cheapest you have,” he says, then looks around the room, trying to identify who might be his contact. He examines the man at the bar before adding loudly, “Looks like harvest will be late this year.”
The pass phrase spoken, he looks around the room for reaction before turning back to the bar. When his drink arrives he empties several pockets in the hunt for elusive copper coins.
Rogue (Character sheet).
Character: https://ddb.ac/characters/73520529/nBrpI
I walk in, get a drink, then sit across from the person sitting like a king, and say nothing.
Characters:
Alukilia in Pphost
Nameless in the garden
Stergar in the kingdoms edge tavern
(Hello! I regonize that you may not be looking for anymore characters, but if you are, here is my application)
Level 1 Hexblood (lineages race) bard, haunted one background
https://www.dndbeyond.com/characters/49001233
Absinthe Perdin giggles to herself. This place is far too quiet! Taking out her lyre, she plucks out a simple scale to get the bartender's attention.
"Well met, kind and generous barkeep!" she calls out, her voice dry and croaky. "Please, let me play for my meal, I do believe it is too quiet in here!"
At this, she crawls onto a table, and begins to play a popular folk song, embellished somewhat to highlight her skill on the lyre.
Pronouns: She/her/her's
Currently playing as Titaani Leelathae in The Wild beyond the Witchlight
I will make my decision tomorrow.
A deep exhausted sigh escapes Khaun as he makes his way through the tavern door. 'How long has it been now?' he asks himself as he glances around at the patrons having not seen another person in far too long. Nudging past a couple of people locked in conversation he makes his way towards the bar, leaning on the counter not far from the "king of the tavern". 'At least two or three years ...' his thoughts lean back to when he left his clan and set out on his own. Two harsh summers with another on the horizon, 'definitely closer to three than two' he decides with a nod to himself before catching the eye of the tavernkeeper.
"Three ales" he grumbles as the tavernkeeper steps before him. Reaching into a small pouch he pulls out enough coin to pay for the drinks then adds a few more, "Looking for work around these parts if you know of anything." His tired eyes glance up towards the tavernkeeper before his gaze trails over to where the "King" sits.
Khaun's Character Sheet
Hello there, i don't know if you already chose but here is my character.
Level 1 Half-Orc Barbarian, Criminal background
Thorak: https://www.dndbeyond.com/characters/43695196
As he sees the building, Thorak thinks it might be a good deserted place to rest, lest he spends some coin. As he comes near the door he hears muffled voices and thinks to himself, - "here we go again..." , before forcefully and loudly slamming the door open. To his surprise he sees a lively room and only now understands that it is an inn and starts turning away to search for another place to later spend the night, but as he turns away the soft scent of Ale and Stew reaches his nostrils, and a low stomach growl can be heard. He stops, turns again into the inn and with a weight on his step, walks confidently straight to the counter.
You see a big pale brown, grey eyed Half-Orc with long hair tied up in a bun, wolf pelt covering his shoulders, leather pants, black boots with a bit of fur on top and one hand holding a greataxe supported on his right shoulder.
As he's seating, a dry, gruff voice rushes out to the barkeep, -"Barkeep, how much for the stew? and does it come with a pint of Ale?". Right as he says this you hear the loud creaking of the wooden materials on the stool and the counter as he finds a proper seating position, just to be superceded by the sound of his backpack hitting the floor and the sound of a low pitched metallic ring as the head of the greataxe touches the floor keeping the handle right next to his leg.
He sits there looking directly to the bartender as he's waiting for a reply.
Ifyou still have an opening...
https://ddb.ac/characters/64955954/p8ZGoJ
Though not currently a member, seeking admission to the really long and important signature club. Please consider this as a current CV.
Other personalities... Burgee , The Colorless Knight, Fiorello, RW Goodbarrel, Dred, Evrik - Out of the Abyss & Dungeon of the Mad Mage
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Upon entering the common room, I scan briefly the patrons and staff, taking in all that might be of interest or threat. As I make my way to the bar I discreetly size up those who caught my attention at first glance being sure to keep my distance from others lest any cutpurse decide to “bump into me”.
I take my place at the far end of the room, so as to keep my back to the wall and my eye on the main door (as well as any other exits). When the barkeep approaches to serve me, I order a flagon of ale and slip them a few extra coppers, on top of the customary tip, and mention that I’m looking for work. “Do you know of anyone in need of a soldier for an adventure?”, I ask. “I’m new in town and could use some work.”.
I listen as closely as possible to the answer, while simultaneously watching (surreptitiously and with great interest) the conversation initiated by the brash newcomer who approached the “king” at the center of the counter; thinking to myself, “This could be entertaining.”.
https://www.dndbeyond.com/characters/73921216
Thank you everyone for applying. This recruitment is now closed. The invites have been sent.