Our adventure begins in the Moonlit Stag, an unexceptional tavern nestled in a quiet corner of Ohdrid. Whenever the door opens and another person steps in from the rain, you feel a chill as the cold wind sweeps through the tavern commons. The sky outside is almost pitch black, as thick unbroken rain clouds blanket the stars and the moon.
The Moonlit Stag itself is a cozy, if unremarkable establishment. Its walls are adorned with worn tapestries, scuffed wood carvings, and a few mounted animal trophies. Its atmosphere is filled with the smell of damp wood, watered down ale, and a faintly the scent of smoke, as a small fire burns in the hearth. The room is sparsely populated tonight, with only a handful of patrons scattered about. Most are wrapped in damp cloaks, huddled over their drinks as they seek warmth and comfort away from the unforgiving weather.
One man sits at the bar, engaging in quiet small talk with the bartender Marick as he scribbles something in a small leatherbound journal. A trio of burly miners sit around one of the tables, engaged in something of a serious conversation as they speak to one another in low tones. A middle-aged woman and her son sit near the door - they'd come in when the rain started, merely seeking to wait it out before continuing onto wherever it was they were going. A young man sits near the fire, leafing through a book in his hands with a blanket around his shoulders.
What has brought you to the Moonlit Stag this evening?
Kiafra sits in the corner of the Moonlit Stag taproom facing into the room with a sour expression. His features are human and were he to be standing he would reach just over 6’ tall with a muscular build. He has weathered, tanned skin and green eyes, along with shoulder length dark hair swept back along with a short topknot and a beard that is braided into a short point but with no moustache. He has the look of a tribesman about him.
Unusually for a tribesman he wears a breastplate but his head, arms and legs are unarmoured as would be expected despite the chill in the air. Close to him against the wall leans a shield and an assortment of weapons including a trident, some javelins and a short bow. Right now he is nursing a tankard of watered down ale, as he watches the door to the tavern.
It is not unusual to see him at the Moonlit Stag when he has not been engaged as a guide or guard. Those that frequent the Moonlit Stag often will likely know his sour expression is related to the lack of work of late, and the current weather is doing nothing to improve his prospects.
He suddenly drains his tankard and motions to Marick for another, and then not for the first time he scans the room, eyeing those present.
A short young woman comes in, wearing a green cloak. She is not even quite 3 feet tall - clearly a halfling. Pulling back the hood of the cloak reveals her short brown hair, pointed ears, and her fair-skinned face sprinkled with light-colored freckles. She very quickly scans the room, before taking off the damp cloak and hanging it from a cloak hook. She places a backpack she was carrying right next to it, then makes her way to the bar.
Beneath her cloak, the halfling woman is wearing a fine sleeveless high-collared tunic, the same green color as her cloak. And she has well-made black pants with fine leather shoes. There is only a small dagger at her waist, but no other signs of weapons or armor. She does have several small pouches at her belt as well. Stepping up just beside the man talking with the bartender, she addresses Marick first. "Excuse me, I would like to get a glass of your best wine." She then reaches up on tip toe to place a gold coin on the counter. She glances to the man scribbling in his journal. "And a good evening to you sir. Eielle Hillwind," she says as she gives him a slight smile.
As she waits, her bright green eyes start to roam about the room. She can't help but notice the human man calling out for a drink. And for a moment her gaze focuses in on him.
As always, Kiafra's attention had been drawn to the door as it opened, his gaze adjusting downward to look at the diminutive woman that entered. Seeing the manner of her dress, he makes the assumption she is simply avoiding the weather, like the woman with her son. But when her gaze lands on him and pauses as she sizes him up she catches his attention and he meets that gaze for a few seconds.
He gives a curt nod to the halfling and notes the name she gave the man writing in the book. Gold is not his own motivation but he has learned its value, and he knows paying so much for a single drink is excessive. As is the request for glass in a tavern like this. And so he takes an interest, now openly watching the scene play out.
Darren briefly glances over his shoulder as the door opens again, noting the entrance of the halfling woman before turning back to his still untouched mug of ale. He'd come in himself shortly after the rain started, ordering a drink out of courtesy before settling into an unoccupied booth. His clothes were mostly dry at this point, though it didn't make a difference. Cold and wet climates were home to him, and he dressed appropriately.
He wears a long sky-blue coat, with darker horizontal stripes across the shoulders, chest, and waist. Underneath, a snug underlayer provides more than enough insulation against the damp and cold. Dark gloves cover his hands, while fitted trousers and knee-high boots complete the outfit. Despite a head full of gray hair, he's certainly on the younger side. He couldn't be more than 20 years old, with pale skin and light green eyes. His pack sits in the booth next to him with a shield strapped to it and a longsword laid across it. His bow rests against the wall, still strung.
This city was a new place to him. Less snowy that he was used to, perhaps a bit more dreary. It would do to settle down for a time...But first he needed a room for the night. He grabs the still-full mug and approaches the bar, patiently waiting for Marick to finish helping the others. When he's done, Darren slides onto a seat and grabs his attention. "Do you have a room available for the night?"
Without a word, Marickfills another tankard and carries it over to the hulking man in the corner of the room. For those that frequent the Moonlit Stag, they'd know the bartender to have a malleable personality, and a keen insight for a person's social preferences. He'll hold a conversation with any patron that wants to chat - exchanging stories, jokes, or just making small talk. For his more introverted types...He's content to get them what they need and leave them to their business.
He returns to the bar, exchanging a few more words with the man seated there before Eiellewalks in. He puts on a smile as the halfling walks up to the bar, leaning on the bar with both hands as he waits for her. His eyebrow goes up with her request, and the gold coin placed on the corner. With a chuckle, he slides the coin back towards her. "I think you might have come to the wrong place lass, but you might be in luck." He turns away, reaching into a cabinet against the back wall. Turning back around, he places a bottle and a smudged glass goblet on the counter. The bottle is elegantly shaped, with a deep green glass that contains a rich ruby liquid inside. Its label, though faded and frayed at the edges, bears the emblem of the vineyard it was produced from: a thorned rose etched in gold leaf. It's honestly not the type of wine you'd expect to find in a place like this. "Some aristocrat type left this here a while back, as payment for not telling anyone his business here. Hasn't been opened yet."
With that, he pops the cork and pours the wine into the glass, pushing it towards the young halfling woman. It's a dark red, and in the aroma you can smell hints of cherry and blackcurrant. "I don't know much about wine. So try it first, and if you feel it's worth it I'll take your payment."
The other man at the bar watches with a light grin, extending his hand towards her. "Korin Slate, and a fine evening to you ma'am." He says with a slight drawl. As he introduces himself, you measure him to be a man of unassuming stature. Average height, a lean build. His hand feels rough though, callused in a way that suggests he frequently wields a tool - or a weapon. He's human, but his facial features are sharp and angular, making him look as elf-like as a human can.
Marickthen turns his attention to the young man Darren, tilting his head to the side slightly as he notices the untouched ale. "Sure, don't have anyone else staying at the moment, so you have your pick." He reaches underneath the bar, producing four identical keys with numbers on them. "2 silver pieces a night. 4 if you don't tell me what's wrong with my ale." He says with a joking tone.
Eielle looks at the bottle, her eyes widening. "Oh, that does look nice." She waits as he pours out the liquid into the glass. Once he's done, she picks it up, swirling the red liquid a bit within the glass. She then smells it before taking a very small sip. "Mmm, a lot of flavor. Seems that perhaps luck was more important than coming to the so-called right place," she says with a smile. She slides the coin back towards the man. "You have been most kind to me sir."
The halfling then turns to Korin. "Well, good to meet you as well. Are you a regular here at the Moonlit Stag? I have to admit, I've not been in town long."
When Marick delivers him a fresh tankard, Kiafra nods. "Many bounties to you", he says by way of giving thanks. The bartender will find an assortment of coins on the table when Kiafra leaves, sometimes more than needed and sometimes less, but it evens itself out over time. He has been frequenting this tavern for a couple of months now, on and off, depending on whether he finds employment.
He shifts uncomfortably in the chair, as if still not really used to sitting in this manner.
His gaze remains on the folk at the bar, as he wonders about their purpose in town. It wasn't coin he was after from employment, but a feeling of usefulness which gave him the feeling of worth. But this evening was almost over. Much like the pale skinned one, it would be time for him to sleep soon.
A man sits at the bar, the hood of his crimson cloak covering his face in shadow as he sips upon a beer. He had come in to the tavern earlier, and had watched each of the strange patrons arrive. First, the furred man. Next, the half-ling. And third, the young man. Still, he said nothing, simply drinking from his cup, wondering about the odd people. Sure, he had seen odder. But still, this seemed an oddly random night to see folk so strange.
As he sits there, he listens in to the conversation. After a 'retrieval', as he liked to call them, bars were his favorite place to unwind. Not only for a hearty drink, but also to listen to the secrets and goings on of others. One day, he dreamed of starting a service to collect information and distribute it to the masses on a newspaper. Of course, that would never happen. Strangely, he felt in his heart that it wouldn't. He felt he was part of something much greater. Though he didn't know why.
He takes a long pull from his mug, finally setting the drink down, and looks around once more. The strange folk had sidled up to the bar, and were now speaking with the bartender. Great, now he was going to have to interrupt to get another drink. Begrudginly, he clears his throat.
As the bartender does not hear, he does it again, slightly liuder this time. The bartender still does not hear. Finally, he speaks aloud, his rough, gravelly tone cutting through the conversations "Bartender, another drink will ya'?" he says, his voice naturally low and resonant, though somewhat soft so as not to attract attention.
As he speaks, something inside his mind hisses, angry for drawing attention to him. A white flash of pain shoots through his head, and he lets out a rasping groan, clutching his skull. As he moves, the weird folk catch a flicker of movement from under his hood, near the back of his skull. But then it is gone
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hi, I'm Raccoon_Master,The Rocket Raccoon/Trashcan Tactician (as appointed by Drummer). Pronouns They/Them/Theirs.
Maricktakes the coin with wink, sliding into a pouch on his apron. "Glad it's to your liking Miss Hillwind, let me know if you need anything else."
He's about to continue playfully grilling Darrenwhen the other man catches his attention at last, asking for another drink. He stops, slowly closing his mouth as he stares at the strange man. The bartender of the Moonlit Stag wasn't one to turn down business, but some folk just made him uncomfortable. "Comin' right up."He says, filling another tankard.
"You alright lad?" He asks as he walks over Victor, setting the fresh tankard down in front of him while grabbing the empty one.
Korin's eyes flicker to the cloaked figure as well, holding their for a moment before his gaze turns back to Ellie. "Regular? I'm ole' Marick's best customer." He says with a chuckle, smoothly closing the notebook and stowing it in a bag hanging from his stool. "And what has brought you to our fine, wet and cold city?"
Victorgroans and sits up, clutching his head. He stares up at the bartender, confused. Did the man actually care? A strange feeling begins to bloom in his chest, but then it is stamped out as another flash of pain shoots through his mind like an arrow flying true into its target. He groans again, and grabs the tankard miserably, taking a long, chugging gulp to drown out the pain. He lets out a small burp, and his next words come out slightly slurred, his voice loosing some of the menacing gravel it had before, as if he was intentionally darkening the tone to appear tough. "I'm...I'm fine."
He looks around, the people looking at him making him somewhat uncomfortable. Only somewhat though, as the alcohol has seemed to loosen him up some. Well, more than some. He sways in his seat, and sets his head down on the table. But not before his senses flash. He picks his head up abruptly. What does he notice? Or maybe he's just experiencing drunk hallucinations.
OOC
I forget to set a color for Victor, so I chose Orange if that's alright with everyone.
A smile brightens Elielle face as Korin responded. "Oh, the best customer? You must be here quite a bit then!" Her eyes briefly follow his actions as he slips his notebook away. She quickly looks back up at him. "I'm here on business I suppose you could say. Trying to see whether trading in some of the final metals and gemstones here might be a worthwhile endeavor." She grins. "I hadn't realized it would be quite this wet and cold. But I'll make do."
A grunt escapes Kiafra's throat as he realises the halfling is unlikely to need a guide, if she has come to town simply to trade. And if she needed a guard for her trade goods, she would likely have one already. Although if she did, they were not showing themselves.
He takes a big glug of ale from his tankard and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
Darren self-consciously pulls the mug closer, "It's fine. I just don't really drink often." He grabs a key, reaching into his pouch to pull out two silver pieces. As he does so, he glances around the room, feeling the hair on the back of his neck prickle.
Kiafra (Passive Perception: 14) You feel a chill wind pass through the tavern, even with the door closed. Your body tingles, as if your flight or fight response is kicking but can't come to a decision. Something about the room just feels...Odd now.
Darren, Elielle, & Victor (Perception 15+) A chill runs down your spines as you swear you hear a disembodied voice speak the words "Is someone there?" But you can't tell a direction or origin, leaving you confused. Looking around the inn, it seems no one else noticed - save for Marick. The young man reading a book still rocks in his chair next to the fireplace, the miners continue their hushed conversation, and the woman and her son peak out the windows to see if the rain is stopped.
Marickhovers near the cloaked man, looking up and scanning the room after the odd question seemingly speaks itself into the room. "Wind does weird things with the gaps in the wood paneling here sometimes," He says nonchalantly, seemingly shrugging the strange feeling off. "You sure you're alright?" He asks Victorone last time, turning worried eyes down to the cloaked man.
Elielle (Passive Insight: 11) Korin's brow furrows for a moment, as if trying to remember something. Then his focus snaps back to the present, and his disarming smile returns. "Here almost every night darlin', makes me easy to find." One of his hands retrieves a coin from his pocket, which he begins to twirl between his fingers absent-mindedly. "The rain here is relentless. Most days this season you'll find only a few hours of reprieve from it."
Kiafra's body visibly tenses and he put his tankard down and pushes it away from himself even as he pushes his chair back with a little screech of wood on wood as it slides across the floor.
His tribe are accustomed to the strange behaviour of the wind, knowing it to be powerful and to have purpose. But this didn't feel the same, did it?
"The wind speaks, if you know how to listen", he says in response to Marick's comment, as he starts to rise and look around.
Eielle shivers, her eyes glancing about for the source of the words she just heard, though she tries to keep her attention to Korin. "That is a lot of rain," she says a bit distractedly in reply. But soon her attention turns to Marick, after he makes the comment about the wind. "There are some odd sounds for sure."
In her head she thinks, 'Can someone hear my thoughts? Hello? Somone is here.' It's a response to the voice she thought she might have heard. Though she really thinks it's probably nothing.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Victor Zeroyavich
Victor perks up at the voice. He's heard voices before, but he can't remember where. It's only a feeling. A feeling he does not like. This voice, however, is different somehow. This voice does not scream at him, it does not sound angry. Wait a minute he thinks to himself Where have I heard an angry voice in my head. I touch some weird stuff on expeditions, but nothing that's ever been angry in my head. RIght? Gah, why is this so confusing!?
As the bartender once again speaks with him, Victor looks up at the mans face and studies it, noting its feature and whether the man is handsome or not. He lowers his face, and speaks in a softer tone, one almost inaudible above the hubbub of the tavern "I'm fine. Really." And with that, he takes a swig from his glass, setting it down with a decisive thunk that is a bit louder than he would have liked. He glances around the room quickly, searching to see if anyone is looking at him
Darren turns around, eyes narrowing as he inspects the rest of the room. He searches for the source of disembodied voice...But nothing seems to jump out to him. Slowly, he turns back around, glancing at the others to gauge their responses. A few seemed just as confused as he.
"Weird." He says aloud. Pocketing the key, he takes a seat at an open stool at the bar. "I didn't think the wind could speak in full sentences."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
To post a comment, please login or register a new account.
Our adventure begins in the Moonlit Stag, an unexceptional tavern nestled in a quiet corner of Ohdrid. Whenever the door opens and another person steps in from the rain, you feel a chill as the cold wind sweeps through the tavern commons. The sky outside is almost pitch black, as thick unbroken rain clouds blanket the stars and the moon.
The Moonlit Stag itself is a cozy, if unremarkable establishment. Its walls are adorned with worn tapestries, scuffed wood carvings, and a few mounted animal trophies. Its atmosphere is filled with the smell of damp wood, watered down ale, and a faintly the scent of smoke, as a small fire burns in the hearth. The room is sparsely populated tonight, with only a handful of patrons scattered about. Most are wrapped in damp cloaks, huddled over their drinks as they seek warmth and comfort away from the unforgiving weather.
One man sits at the bar, engaging in quiet small talk with the bartender Marick as he scribbles something in a small leatherbound journal. A trio of burly miners sit around one of the tables, engaged in something of a serious conversation as they speak to one another in low tones. A middle-aged woman and her son sit near the door - they'd come in when the rain started, merely seeking to wait it out before continuing onto wherever it was they were going. A young man sits near the fire, leafing through a book in his hands with a blanket around his shoulders.
What has brought you to the Moonlit Stag this evening?
Kiafra sits in the corner of the Moonlit Stag taproom facing into the room with a sour expression. His features are human and were he to be standing he would reach just over 6’ tall with a muscular build. He has weathered, tanned skin and green eyes, along with shoulder length dark hair swept back along with a short topknot and a beard that is braided into a short point but with no moustache. He has the look of a tribesman about him.
Unusually for a tribesman he wears a breastplate but his head, arms and legs are unarmoured as would be expected despite the chill in the air. Close to him against the wall leans a shield and an assortment of weapons including a trident, some javelins and a short bow. Right now he is nursing a tankard of watered down ale, as he watches the door to the tavern.
It is not unusual to see him at the Moonlit Stag when he has not been engaged as a guide or guard. Those that frequent the Moonlit Stag often will likely know his sour expression is related to the lack of work of late, and the current weather is doing nothing to improve his prospects.
He suddenly drains his tankard and motions to Marick for another, and then not for the first time he scans the room, eyeing those present.
A short young woman comes in, wearing a green cloak. She is not even quite 3 feet tall - clearly a halfling. Pulling back the hood of the cloak reveals her short brown hair, pointed ears, and her fair-skinned face sprinkled with light-colored freckles. She very quickly scans the room, before taking off the damp cloak and hanging it from a cloak hook. She places a backpack she was carrying right next to it, then makes her way to the bar.
Beneath her cloak, the halfling woman is wearing a fine sleeveless high-collared tunic, the same green color as her cloak. And she has well-made black pants with fine leather shoes. There is only a small dagger at her waist, but no other signs of weapons or armor. She does have several small pouches at her belt as well. Stepping up just beside the man talking with the bartender, she addresses Marick first. "Excuse me, I would like to get a glass of your best wine." She then reaches up on tip toe to place a gold coin on the counter. She glances to the man scribbling in his journal. "And a good evening to you sir. Eielle Hillwind," she says as she gives him a slight smile.
As she waits, her bright green eyes start to roam about the room. She can't help but notice the human man calling out for a drink. And for a moment her gaze focuses in on him.
Rabbit Sebrica | Skarai | Katryl Brightfury | Lokilia Vaelphin | Sabina Featherwound | Liivi Orav | Vanizi | Dirtbrain | Elielle Hillwind | Britari/Halila Talgeta/Jesa Gumovi
As always, Kiafra's attention had been drawn to the door as it opened, his gaze adjusting downward to look at the diminutive woman that entered. Seeing the manner of her dress, he makes the assumption she is simply avoiding the weather, like the woman with her son. But when her gaze lands on him and pauses as she sizes him up she catches his attention and he meets that gaze for a few seconds.
He gives a curt nod to the halfling and notes the name she gave the man writing in the book. Gold is not his own motivation but he has learned its value, and he knows paying so much for a single drink is excessive. As is the request for glass in a tavern like this. And so he takes an interest, now openly watching the scene play out.
Darren briefly glances over his shoulder as the door opens again, noting the entrance of the halfling woman before turning back to his still untouched mug of ale. He'd come in himself shortly after the rain started, ordering a drink out of courtesy before settling into an unoccupied booth. His clothes were mostly dry at this point, though it didn't make a difference. Cold and wet climates were home to him, and he dressed appropriately.
He wears a long sky-blue coat, with darker horizontal stripes across the shoulders, chest, and waist. Underneath, a snug underlayer provides more than enough insulation against the damp and cold. Dark gloves cover his hands, while fitted trousers and knee-high boots complete the outfit. Despite a head full of gray hair, he's certainly on the younger side. He couldn't be more than 20 years old, with pale skin and light green eyes. His pack sits in the booth next to him with a shield strapped to it and a longsword laid across it. His bow rests against the wall, still strung.
This city was a new place to him. Less snowy that he was used to, perhaps a bit more dreary. It would do to settle down for a time...But first he needed a room for the night. He grabs the still-full mug and approaches the bar, patiently waiting for Marick to finish helping the others. When he's done, Darren slides onto a seat and grabs his attention. "Do you have a room available for the night?"
Without a word, Marick fills another tankard and carries it over to the hulking man in the corner of the room. For those that frequent the Moonlit Stag, they'd know the bartender to have a malleable personality, and a keen insight for a person's social preferences. He'll hold a conversation with any patron that wants to chat - exchanging stories, jokes, or just making small talk. For his more introverted types...He's content to get them what they need and leave them to their business.
He returns to the bar, exchanging a few more words with the man seated there before Eielle walks in. He puts on a smile as the halfling walks up to the bar, leaning on the bar with both hands as he waits for her. His eyebrow goes up with her request, and the gold coin placed on the corner. With a chuckle, he slides the coin back towards her. "I think you might have come to the wrong place lass, but you might be in luck." He turns away, reaching into a cabinet against the back wall. Turning back around, he places a bottle and a smudged glass goblet on the counter. The bottle is elegantly shaped, with a deep green glass that contains a rich ruby liquid inside. Its label, though faded and frayed at the edges, bears the emblem of the vineyard it was produced from: a thorned rose etched in gold leaf. It's honestly not the type of wine you'd expect to find in a place like this. "Some aristocrat type left this here a while back, as payment for not telling anyone his business here. Hasn't been opened yet."
With that, he pops the cork and pours the wine into the glass, pushing it towards the young halfling woman. It's a dark red, and in the aroma you can smell hints of cherry and blackcurrant. "I don't know much about wine. So try it first, and if you feel it's worth it I'll take your payment."
The other man at the bar watches with a light grin, extending his hand towards her. "Korin Slate, and a fine evening to you ma'am." He says with a slight drawl. As he introduces himself, you measure him to be a man of unassuming stature. Average height, a lean build. His hand feels rough though, callused in a way that suggests he frequently wields a tool - or a weapon. He's human, but his facial features are sharp and angular, making him look as elf-like as a human can.
Marick then turns his attention to the young man Darren, tilting his head to the side slightly as he notices the untouched ale. "Sure, don't have anyone else staying at the moment, so you have your pick." He reaches underneath the bar, producing four identical keys with numbers on them. "2 silver pieces a night. 4 if you don't tell me what's wrong with my ale." He says with a joking tone.
Eielle looks at the bottle, her eyes widening. "Oh, that does look nice." She waits as he pours out the liquid into the glass. Once he's done, she picks it up, swirling the red liquid a bit within the glass. She then smells it before taking a very small sip. "Mmm, a lot of flavor. Seems that perhaps luck was more important than coming to the so-called right place," she says with a smile. She slides the coin back towards the man. "You have been most kind to me sir."
The halfling then turns to Korin. "Well, good to meet you as well. Are you a regular here at the Moonlit Stag? I have to admit, I've not been in town long."
Rabbit Sebrica | Skarai | Katryl Brightfury | Lokilia Vaelphin | Sabina Featherwound | Liivi Orav | Vanizi | Dirtbrain | Elielle Hillwind | Britari/Halila Talgeta/Jesa Gumovi
When Marick delivers him a fresh tankard, Kiafra nods. "Many bounties to you", he says by way of giving thanks. The bartender will find an assortment of coins on the table when Kiafra leaves, sometimes more than needed and sometimes less, but it evens itself out over time. He has been frequenting this tavern for a couple of months now, on and off, depending on whether he finds employment.
He shifts uncomfortably in the chair, as if still not really used to sitting in this manner.
His gaze remains on the folk at the bar, as he wonders about their purpose in town. It wasn't coin he was after from employment, but a feeling of usefulness which gave him the feeling of worth. But this evening was almost over. Much like the pale skinned one, it would be time for him to sleep soon.
Victor Zeroyavich
A man sits at the bar, the hood of his crimson cloak covering his face in shadow as he sips upon a beer. He had come in to the tavern earlier, and had watched each of the strange patrons arrive. First, the furred man. Next, the half-ling. And third, the young man. Still, he said nothing, simply drinking from his cup, wondering about the odd people. Sure, he had seen odder. But still, this seemed an oddly random night to see folk so strange.
As he sits there, he listens in to the conversation. After a 'retrieval', as he liked to call them, bars were his favorite place to unwind. Not only for a hearty drink, but also to listen to the secrets and goings on of others. One day, he dreamed of starting a service to collect information and distribute it to the masses on a newspaper. Of course, that would never happen. Strangely, he felt in his heart that it wouldn't. He felt he was part of something much greater. Though he didn't know why.
He takes a long pull from his mug, finally setting the drink down, and looks around once more. The strange folk had sidled up to the bar, and were now speaking with the bartender. Great, now he was going to have to interrupt to get another drink. Begrudginly, he clears his throat.
As the bartender does not hear, he does it again, slightly liuder this time. The bartender still does not hear. Finally, he speaks aloud, his rough, gravelly tone cutting through the conversations "Bartender, another drink will ya'?" he says, his voice naturally low and resonant, though somewhat soft so as not to attract attention.
As he speaks, something inside his mind hisses, angry for drawing attention to him. A white flash of pain shoots through his head, and he lets out a rasping groan, clutching his skull. As he moves, the weird folk catch a flicker of movement from under his hood, near the back of his skull. But then it is gone
Hi, I'm Raccoon_Master, The Rocket Raccoon/Trashcan Tactician (as appointed by Drummer). Pronouns They/Them/Theirs.
My Characters: Brormin; Discovery; Thea; Threlan; Penley; DMing: Dark God's Dread; Raccoon's Strixhaven; Vecna Eve of Ruin; Tomb of the Divine (RECRUITING!)
I won the Last Comment Wins, but Timed! And don’t forget to join the Anything but the OGL 2.0 Thread!
Check out my EXTENDED SIGNATUR
Marick takes the coin with wink, sliding into a pouch on his apron. "Glad it's to your liking Miss Hillwind, let me know if you need anything else."
He's about to continue playfully grilling Darren when the other man catches his attention at last, asking for another drink. He stops, slowly closing his mouth as he stares at the strange man. The bartender of the Moonlit Stag wasn't one to turn down business, but some folk just made him uncomfortable. "Comin' right up." He says, filling another tankard.
"You alright lad?" He asks as he walks over Victor, setting the fresh tankard down in front of him while grabbing the empty one.
Korin's eyes flicker to the cloaked figure as well, holding their for a moment before his gaze turns back to Ellie. "Regular? I'm ole' Marick's best customer." He says with a chuckle, smoothly closing the notebook and stowing it in a bag hanging from his stool. "And what has brought you to our fine, wet and cold city?"
OoC: Perception checks please
Kiafra Perception: 2+4=6 (Passive: 14)
Victor Zeroyavich
Victor groans and sits up, clutching his head. He stares up at the bartender, confused. Did the man actually care? A strange feeling begins to bloom in his chest, but then it is stamped out as another flash of pain shoots through his mind like an arrow flying true into its target. He groans again, and grabs the tankard miserably, taking a long, chugging gulp to drown out the pain. He lets out a small burp, and his next words come out slightly slurred, his voice loosing some of the menacing gravel it had before, as if he was intentionally darkening the tone to appear tough. "I'm...I'm fine."
He looks around, the people looking at him making him somewhat uncomfortable. Only somewhat though, as the alcohol has seemed to loosen him up some. Well, more than some. He sways in his seat, and sets his head down on the table. But not before his senses flash. He picks his head up abruptly. What does he notice? Or maybe he's just experiencing drunk hallucinations.
OOC
I forget to set a color for Victor, so I chose Orange if that's alright with everyone.
Victor's Perception check: 17 (passive 16)
Hi, I'm Raccoon_Master, The Rocket Raccoon/Trashcan Tactician (as appointed by Drummer). Pronouns They/Them/Theirs.
My Characters: Brormin; Discovery; Thea; Threlan; Penley; DMing: Dark God's Dread; Raccoon's Strixhaven; Vecna Eve of Ruin; Tomb of the Divine (RECRUITING!)
I won the Last Comment Wins, but Timed! And don’t forget to join the Anything but the OGL 2.0 Thread!
Check out my EXTENDED SIGNATUR
A smile brightens Elielle face as Korin responded. "Oh, the best customer? You must be here quite a bit then!" Her eyes briefly follow his actions as he slips his notebook away. She quickly looks back up at him. "I'm here on business I suppose you could say. Trying to see whether trading in some of the final metals and gemstones here might be a worthwhile endeavor." She grins. "I hadn't realized it would be quite this wet and cold. But I'll make do."
(Perception Roll: 15)
Rabbit Sebrica | Skarai | Katryl Brightfury | Lokilia Vaelphin | Sabina Featherwound | Liivi Orav | Vanizi | Dirtbrain | Elielle Hillwind | Britari/Halila Talgeta/Jesa Gumovi
A grunt escapes Kiafra's throat as he realises the halfling is unlikely to need a guide, if she has come to town simply to trade. And if she needed a guard for her trade goods, she would likely have one already. Although if she did, they were not showing themselves.
He takes a big glug of ale from his tankard and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
Darren self-consciously pulls the mug closer, "It's fine. I just don't really drink often." He grabs a key, reaching into his pouch to pull out two silver pieces. As he does so, he glances around the room, feeling the hair on the back of his neck prickle.
Perception: 15
Kiafra (Passive Perception: 14)
You feel a chill wind pass through the tavern, even with the door closed. Your body tingles, as if your flight or fight response is kicking but can't come to a decision. Something about the room just feels...Odd now.
Darren, Elielle, & Victor (Perception 15+)
A chill runs down your spines as you swear you hear a disembodied voice speak the words "Is someone there?" But you can't tell a direction or origin, leaving you confused. Looking around the inn, it seems no one else noticed - save for Marick. The young man reading a book still rocks in his chair next to the fireplace, the miners continue their hushed conversation, and the woman and her son peak out the windows to see if the rain is stopped.
Marick hovers near the cloaked man, looking up and scanning the room after the odd question seemingly speaks itself into the room. "Wind does weird things with the gaps in the wood paneling here sometimes," He says nonchalantly, seemingly shrugging the strange feeling off. "You sure you're alright?" He asks Victor one last time, turning worried eyes down to the cloaked man.
Elielle (Passive Insight: 11)
Korin's brow furrows for a moment, as if trying to remember something. Then his focus snaps back to the present, and his disarming smile returns. "Here almost every night darlin', makes me easy to find." One of his hands retrieves a coin from his pocket, which he begins to twirl between his fingers absent-mindedly. "The rain here is relentless. Most days this season you'll find only a few hours of reprieve from it."
Kiafra's body visibly tenses and he put his tankard down and pushes it away from himself even as he pushes his chair back with a little screech of wood on wood as it slides across the floor.
His tribe are accustomed to the strange behaviour of the wind, knowing it to be powerful and to have purpose. But this didn't feel the same, did it?
"The wind speaks, if you know how to listen", he says in response to Marick's comment, as he starts to rise and look around.
Eielle shivers, her eyes glancing about for the source of the words she just heard, though she tries to keep her attention to Korin. "That is a lot of rain," she says a bit distractedly in reply. But soon her attention turns to Marick, after he makes the comment about the wind. "There are some odd sounds for sure."
In her head she thinks, 'Can someone hear my thoughts? Hello? Somone is here.' It's a response to the voice she thought she might have heard. Though she really thinks it's probably nothing.
Rabbit Sebrica | Skarai | Katryl Brightfury | Lokilia Vaelphin | Sabina Featherwound | Liivi Orav | Vanizi | Dirtbrain | Elielle Hillwind | Britari/Halila Talgeta/Jesa Gumovi
Victor Zeroyavich
Victor perks up at the voice. He's heard voices before, but he can't remember where. It's only a feeling. A feeling he does not like. This voice, however, is different somehow. This voice does not scream at him, it does not sound angry. Wait a minute he thinks to himself Where have I heard an angry voice in my head. I touch some weird stuff on expeditions, but nothing that's ever been angry in my head. RIght? Gah, why is this so confusing!?
As the bartender once again speaks with him, Victor looks up at the mans face and studies it, noting its feature and whether the man is handsome or not. He lowers his face, and speaks in a softer tone, one almost inaudible above the hubbub of the tavern "I'm fine. Really." And with that, he takes a swig from his glass, setting it down with a decisive thunk that is a bit louder than he would have liked. He glances around the room quickly, searching to see if anyone is looking at him
OOC
Making a Perception check: 17
Hi, I'm Raccoon_Master, The Rocket Raccoon/Trashcan Tactician (as appointed by Drummer). Pronouns They/Them/Theirs.
My Characters: Brormin; Discovery; Thea; Threlan; Penley; DMing: Dark God's Dread; Raccoon's Strixhaven; Vecna Eve of Ruin; Tomb of the Divine (RECRUITING!)
I won the Last Comment Wins, but Timed! And don’t forget to join the Anything but the OGL 2.0 Thread!
Check out my EXTENDED SIGNATUR
Darren turns around, eyes narrowing as he inspects the rest of the room. He searches for the source of disembodied voice...But nothing seems to jump out to him. Slowly, he turns back around, glancing at the others to gauge their responses. A few seemed just as confused as he.
"Weird." He says aloud. Pocketing the key, he takes a seat at an open stool at the bar. "I didn't think the wind could speak in full sentences."