Yet another cloaked figure looks on, hood down. Pointed ears prick up, picking up bits of conversation. Dark, cold eyes watch the rabbit-person make a scene in the tavern. The pale elf scowls - he had been trying to listen to the minstrel's cautionary tale. The people in these parts were fools, but one could still glean information from them. He takes a long swig of his watery ale and cocks his head, trying to sort through the ongoing conversations.
The gentleman in ragged silk finishes his tea and rubs his eyes. Travel has been daunting for him as of late -- he is no longer the spry young man he used to be. He continues listening to the woman's somber tale, but takes the time to lift his crossbow onto the table, with the intent of tuning the drawstring for possible engagement once more. Soon, he'll be back on the road, and this fine weapon will be his lifeline on the arduous backtrails once more. Preparation is key for an old fool like him.
Just as the neatly robed Herengon slurps his last spoonful of soup, music begins to play. The strawberry blond bunny swirls atop the bar stool, his eyes wisenening at the raven-haired entertainment.
He leans over to the blank space above the empty stool beside him “Ey, old friend, you know what they say about luck, gotta expand the field of possibilities. We should dance!”
He hops down off the stool, brushes crumbs off his light lavender threads, reaches a hand out to the thin air and proceeds to lead his incorporeal best friend and colleague to a some open space to dance. Despite not being much of a dancer.
Agar was holding forth on the sacrifice of the Maimed God, Ilmater, and his teachings which lived on even as clerics and their miracles faded into distant memory. Like the other gods, Ilmater has not manifested in this realm is a very long time, and the people lost faith. What a disaster that was! Not that they ceased to call Ilmater's name, but that they no longer adhered to the virtues he represented - kindness, self-sacrifice, forgiveness. His relationship with the divine was a special one. Miracles such as once were commonplace were available to him, healing and bolstering magic normally unavailable to mages, and he was sure that this fact meant that the long silence was coming to an end.
The other patrons didn't pay particular attention, which he understood. People needed to see results, not philosophy alone. They were being practical, not evil, so he forgave them. He was getting a little tired, though, having preached for a long time outside before coming inside. He took a sip of the plain water in his flagon and looked around. The bard with whose music he competed for their attention had just finished her song so he made his way over to her. With a friendly smile, he introduced himself. "Agar. What's your name?"
"My name is Rivana Greywire. Could you spare a few coins for a round of drinks?"
Yet another cloaked figure looks on, hood down. Pointed ears prick up, picking up bits of conversation. Dark, cold eyes watch the rabbit-person make a scene in the tavern. The pale elf scowls - he had been trying to listen to the minstrel's cautionary tale. The people in these parts were fools, but one could still glean information from them. He takes a long swig of his watery ale and cocks his head, trying to sort through the ongoing conversations.
He can somewhat overhear what two hooded figures are whispering about.
"Adventurers ... investigate ... manor but ... have succeeded. ... last ... to try did ... over ... year ago ... everyone survived."
The gentleman in ragged silk finishes his tea and rubs his eyes. Travel has been daunting for him as of late -- he is no longer the spry young man he used to be. He continues listening to the woman's somber tale, but takes the time to lift his crossbow onto the table, with the intent of tuning the drawstring for possible engagement once more. Soon, he'll be back on the road, and this fine weapon will be his lifeline on the arduous backtrails once more. Preparation is key for an old fool like him.
Sethok considers drawing closer to the hooded figures, but is distracted by the sound of something heavy being placed on a table nearby. His pale, slender fingers snake towards a crystalline feather around his neck as he notices an older man with his crossbow on the table. His breath catches while he waits to see if anyone else noticed - or cared - that a weapon had been openly drawn. Seeing the older man begin to tinker with it harmlessly, he exhales. No harm had been intended - he hoped.
Sethok nonetheless snatches his drink up from the table and glides over to the old man's table.
"I. . . am not familiar with this tavern. Is it common for patrons to maintain their weapons in public?"
The strawberry blonde herenogon, in his lavender robes, with his invisible dance partner continue to swirl.
8
[rolls not coming through, performance 3-1=2 on character sheet]
And as the music stops the Herengon can't help but shout "Bravo!" and approach the bard. Noticing he is not the first to seek the bards acquaintance he stands a few feet away with a big smile.
"Rivana! How Delightful! My Name is Ruby Tart." And what curtsy Mr Tart gives the bard.
The gentleman in ragged silk finishes his tea and rubs his eyes. Travel has been daunting for him as of late -- he is no longer the spry young man he used to be. He continues listening to the woman's somber tale, but takes the time to lift his crossbow onto the table, with the intent of tuning the drawstring for possible engagement once more. Soon, he'll be back on the road, and this fine weapon will be his lifeline on the arduous backtrails once more. Preparation is key for an old fool like him.
The strawberry blonde herenogon, in his lavender robes, with his invisible dance partner continue to swirl.
8
[rolls not coming through, performance 3-1=2 on character sheet]
And as the music stops the Herengon can't help but shout "Bravo!" and approach the bard. Noticing he is not the first to seek the bards acquaintance he stands a few feet away with a big smile.
"Rivana! How Delightful! My Name is Ruby Tart." And what curtsy Mr Tart gives the bard.
the crowd boos at him and 15 rotten tomatos are thrown at him
The gentleman in ragged silk finishes his tea and rubs his eyes. Travel has been daunting for him as of late -- he is no longer the spry young man he used to be. He continues listening to the woman's somber tale, but takes the time to lift his crossbow onto the table, with the intent of tuning the drawstring for possible engagement once more. Soon, he'll be back on the road, and this fine weapon will be his lifeline on the arduous backtrails once more. Preparation is key for an old fool like him.
"Looks like they let all manner of creatures in here." Patch says to the young male named Longtooth looking at the strawberry haired rabbit dancing through the common room rather uncoordinated. Looking back at the bard. She asks out loud. "I wonder if that is a true tale she sings? In my experience tales are 1 part truth, 1 part lie, and 1 part fiction. I wonder what is truth?"
A human dressed in robes for travel enters the bar and orders a drink before sitting down. He seems to be in his mid twenties with black hair, grey eyes, and a pale complexion.
The light-in-the-two-left-feet-loafers Herengon lets the boos run off his back like water off a duck and wiggles his fingers across the rotten tomato stains across his robes magically cleaning them. By the way he seems unfazed by the assault, one gets the feeling this is not the first time this rabbit has had rotten fruit thrown at him. After realising he wasn't quite as impressive as he thought he returns to the bar and sits next to the newcomer.
(i am going to let you all rp in the tavern for as long as you want so you can bond. please let me know when you are done bonding with your characters so i know when to move you all to the next section)
Patch starts to feel the weight of her old age come over her and starts to scan the room for the closest chair that she could use to put her feet up. She spots the older gentleman who occassionally glances at a symbol he carries. She has experienced a change in the world from peaceful to one of terror and loss. She could use a man who still holds hope to help her on her endeavor.
She bids a gentle goodbye to the man who longs for treasure and makes her way to the table.
"Excuse an old woman, but is this seat taken?" She waits a moment to hear the man's reply before taking a seat if acceptable.
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Yet another cloaked figure looks on, hood down. Pointed ears prick up, picking up bits of conversation. Dark, cold eyes watch the rabbit-person make a scene in the tavern. The pale elf scowls - he had been trying to listen to the minstrel's cautionary tale. The people in these parts were fools, but one could still glean information from them. He takes a long swig of his watery ale and cocks his head, trying to sort through the ongoing conversations.
The gentleman in ragged silk finishes his tea and rubs his eyes. Travel has been daunting for him as of late -- he is no longer the spry young man he used to be. He continues listening to the woman's somber tale, but takes the time to lift his crossbow onto the table, with the intent of tuning the drawstring for possible engagement once more. Soon, he'll be back on the road, and this fine weapon will be his lifeline on the arduous backtrails once more. Preparation is key for an old fool like him.
(i have decided to make it simpler that enough people have seen Longtooth and the bard that nobody needs to do any more checks for that)
Pronouns: She/Her
Gender: Nonbinary Female, 1/3 human, 1/3 feline, 1/3 dragon
Mentally and emotionally unstable, anorexic, autism, ADHD, anger issues
(Preformance check with disadvantage please)
Pronouns: She/Her
Gender: Nonbinary Female, 1/3 human, 1/3 feline, 1/3 dragon
Mentally and emotionally unstable, anorexic, autism, ADHD, anger issues
"My name is Rivana Greywire. Could you spare a few coins for a round of drinks?"
Pronouns: She/Her
Gender: Nonbinary Female, 1/3 human, 1/3 feline, 1/3 dragon
Mentally and emotionally unstable, anorexic, autism, ADHD, anger issues
He can somewhat overhear what two hooded figures are whispering about.
"Adventurers ... investigate ... manor but ... have succeeded. ... last ... to try did ... over ... year ago ... everyone survived."
Pronouns: She/Her
Gender: Nonbinary Female, 1/3 human, 1/3 feline, 1/3 dragon
Mentally and emotionally unstable, anorexic, autism, ADHD, anger issues
(Dexterity save with advantage please)
Pronouns: She/Her
Gender: Nonbinary Female, 1/3 human, 1/3 feline, 1/3 dragon
Mentally and emotionally unstable, anorexic, autism, ADHD, anger issues
Sethok considers drawing closer to the hooded figures, but is distracted by the sound of something heavy being placed on a table nearby. His pale, slender fingers snake towards a crystalline feather around his neck as he notices an older man with his crossbow on the table. His breath catches while he waits to see if anyone else noticed - or cared - that a weapon had been openly drawn. Seeing the older man begin to tinker with it harmlessly, he exhales. No harm had been intended - he hoped.
Sethok nonetheless snatches his drink up from the table and glides over to the old man's table.
"I. . . am not familiar with this tavern. Is it common for patrons to maintain their weapons in public?"
The strawberry blonde herenogon, in his lavender robes, with his invisible dance partner continue to swirl.
8
[rolls not coming through, performance 3-1=2 on character sheet]
And as the music stops the Herengon can't help but shout "Bravo!" and approach the bard. Noticing he is not the first to seek the bards acquaintance he stands a few feet away with a big smile.
"Rivana! How Delightful! My Name is Ruby Tart." And what curtsy Mr Tart gives the bard.
Dex Save: 6, 22
the crowd boos at him and 15 rotten tomatos are thrown at him
Pronouns: She/Her
Gender: Nonbinary Female, 1/3 human, 1/3 feline, 1/3 dragon
Mentally and emotionally unstable, anorexic, autism, ADHD, anger issues
(just making sure that the drawstring didnt snap)
Pronouns: She/Her
Gender: Nonbinary Female, 1/3 human, 1/3 feline, 1/3 dragon
Mentally and emotionally unstable, anorexic, autism, ADHD, anger issues
"Looks like they let all manner of creatures in here." Patch says to the young male named Longtooth looking at the strawberry haired rabbit dancing through the common room rather uncoordinated.
Looking back at the bard. She asks out loud. "I wonder if that is a true tale she sings? In my experience tales are 1 part truth, 1 part lie, and 1 part fiction. I wonder what is truth?"
Longtooth shrugs, "does it really matter? there might be treasure."
Pronouns: She/Her
Gender: Nonbinary Female, 1/3 human, 1/3 feline, 1/3 dragon
Mentally and emotionally unstable, anorexic, autism, ADHD, anger issues
"Truth and knowledge are most valuable treasure." Patch retorts.
A human dressed in robes for travel enters the bar and orders a drink before sitting down. He seems to be in his mid twenties with black hair, grey eyes, and a pale complexion.
The light-in-the-two-left-feet-loafers Herengon lets the boos run off his back like water off a duck and wiggles his fingers across the rotten tomato stains across his robes magically cleaning them. By the way he seems unfazed by the assault, one gets the feeling this is not the first time this rabbit has had rotten fruit thrown at him. After realising he wasn't quite as impressive as he thought he returns to the bar and sits next to the newcomer.
"Hey there human, what brings you to town?"
"Heard rumors of a soul-trapping monster. Good opportunity to hone my magic. You?"
(i am going to let you all rp in the tavern for as long as you want so you can bond. please let me know when you are done bonding with your characters so i know when to move you all to the next section)
Pronouns: She/Her
Gender: Nonbinary Female, 1/3 human, 1/3 feline, 1/3 dragon
Mentally and emotionally unstable, anorexic, autism, ADHD, anger issues
Patch starts to feel the weight of her old age come over her and starts to scan the room for the closest chair that she could use to put her feet up. She spots the older gentleman who occassionally glances at a symbol he carries. She has experienced a change in the world from peaceful to one of terror and loss. She could use a man who still holds hope to help her on her endeavor.
She bids a gentle goodbye to the man who longs for treasure and makes her way to the table.
"Excuse an old woman, but is this seat taken?" She waits a moment to hear the man's reply before taking a seat if acceptable.