Dzendalin hasn't been kind to you, almost out of money you've found yourself a bed in a tavern of questionable cleanliness and unquestionably bad reputation. It does have the benefit of being extremely cheap but the constant threat of robbery and casual violence has led to you congregating with a few others who seem a little more reasonable than the rest of the patrons of the Hidden Treasure, a ridiculously unsuitable name for a tavern if such low standards.
At the start of the dinner hour, before the drinking has really gotten started the three of you are wishing you were enjoying the stringy meat and hard bread you find presented to you by Fen, one of the less hostile members of the serving staff, who nonetheless gives you a challenging look as the food is set down as if daring you to complain.
The oil lamps gutter around the bar, and near the door but the space, as always, is gloomy, you are joined by about a dozen other patrons, mostly also engaged in struggling through their meal but there is at least one comatose drunk slumped in a corner and the barkeep, Segan, an old man with a vicious temper towards the girls who work for him, eyes all the customers as if they are the bane of his life.
You have had more pleasureable meals.
Conversation turns as it does to money and opportunity, you all know that you share a lack of funds and prospects so you have spent the day, unsuccessfully, looking for work. Brock knows there will be more pit fighting soon but nobody is offering him anything for another few days, and his money might not stretch that far. Wallis hasn't found anyone or thing to track down worth the time and people seems distrustful of Valen's intentions as he looks for opportunities in the area to prove his skills.
As the meal drags on the three look across the grimy table at each other..
(Take the opportunity to introduce your character in terms of appearance and demeanour and then I'll get this show on the road)
Brock will crack his knuckles before reaching towards his tankard of ale with his scared and bloodied hands to take a drink. The six foot tall dark haired man would slouch backwards in his chair as downs his drink and wipes some of the remaining liquid form his beard. "So any of you guys have any ideas for making some coin?" He would say with a smile as his leans forward and the metal bracers covering his forearms clank on the table. Looking down at his arms and then glancing at his shoulders before looking back across the table "I guess I should take off my brawling outfit when I don't have a fight...but ya know... I worry my fans may not recognize me without it!" he would say with a hardy laugh. "Who knows, maybe a fan of mine might give us a job!" He would mention with a flex of his muscles before tearing off a large bite of dried meat.
Wallis has since pushed the plate of 'food' away and is stroking her tressym who's dozing in her lap out of view from the questionable clientele. She's only in the city because Brock promised her work but now she's finally come she's starting to regret having left the wilds.
"You said you had work," Wallis replies glumly. "I didn't realize you meant pit fighting," the half-elf adds with an edge of distaste in her tone. She speaks with an air of education and worldliness in her voice. Truth is Wallis had never been much of anywhere outside a hundred-mile radius of home but was a voracious reader of lore and geographic from abroad. "I thought...I thought you gave that up years ago," she added next looking around them before looking back at Brock, a childhood friend she had not seen in a decade but whom she corresponded since he left their rural town to make his fortune. A fortune she hoped, now that her father had died, she could find too.
OOC: Phade that's Wreck and my PCs link. We were the town's misfits he left but my PC stayed. If you'd like more info we're still fleshing it out. Hope that's cool!
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Sometimes a Nat 1 tells a better story than a Nat 20 ever could.
This well-dressed human looks well out of place in this establishment. With his well-made white and brown boots kicked up on the table, he sips his glass of cheap wine doing his best to try to enjoy it. In his other hand he deftly spins the handle of one of his daggers in the palm of his hand. He chokes down another sip of his wine. "Ahem... If you are looking for a fight, and since it is becoming harder to find a worthy opponent, I would be more than happy to oblige. But I suspect it wouldn't last too long," he says with all the confidence as he swirls the wine in his glass. "Neither one of us would make any money, which is a shame since this meal just about represents the last of the coin to my name." He plants the tip of the dagger in the table and looks away from the pair. He scans the room, smoothing his golden hair as he does so.
As the group speak Segan moves out from behind the bar, hissing something at one of the girls who has not done something or another. From their positions both Wallis and Brock notice a young girl sitting behind the bar, crying softly to herself, they do not recognise her as one of the serving girls. In the general hustle and bustle a large man, fat but clearly muscular, walks past them on his way back from the truly terrifying excuse for a bathroom placing a meaty paw on Valen's shoulder as he does before laughing harshly as he walks off.
Another man who has been sharing his table nearby that belonging to the three companions was, again to both Brock and Wallis, clearly watching them laughs out loud as well, the pair clanking mugs together as they get back to their drinking. Nobody else reacts obviously but one or two of the other patrons do go quiet.
Segan:
OOC: Using Passive Perception for observations made above.
"Pit fighting is good money.... and I never said I gave it up... I just took a break for a while... well.. it was my hand that broke but you get the idea." Brock would say to Wallis, rubbing his right hand as the memories of his shattered hand bring back a few painful memories. Then turning to Valen.. "I think you're right friend! No one wants to pay to watch me knock ya on your ass after first couple punches." Brock would say with a smile and a wink as he leans back in his chair. The smile on his face would fade as he noticed the crying girl behind the counter. Standing up slowly, the large muscular man would wipe the last of the food and drink from his beard and turn away from his companions. Looking towards the bar, Brock would begin making his way to the girl. About half way there he would shout back towards Valen and Wallis "make sure he didn't just wipe shit on your shoulder Valen!" before approaching the girl. "Everything alright?" He would say with a smile.. a smile that was surprisingly friendly for someone with a face so hard and covered with scars.
Before the girl answers the barkeep reaches out and puts his hand on Brock's forearm as he rests it on the bar. "Sit back at your table and I'll come talk to you and your friends, I was just coming over to see you, just hold your horses while I serve these folks" he points at a few men shambling up to the bar looking rough but reasonably sober. He then moves round positioning himself between the girl and all the patrons, Brock included.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Vhon - Level 2 Warlock - What shall become of the Drunken Sailor?
"Alright..." Brock would reply as smile on his face disappears, quickly turning around and moving back to his table. He would glance over at the woman once more before looking back to Valen, trying to determine if the men were laughing because the large man wiped his dirty poo hands on his friends nice clothes.
OOC - I'd call Insight over Perception so 15, not 17 - pretty clear signs indicate the dirty poo hand may very well have been the source of the laughter)
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Vhon - Level 2 Warlock - What shall become of the Drunken Sailor?
Valen's eyes flash in delight at the possibility of a future challenge. "There is only one way to find out." He smiles and begins to spin the dagger again.
Before even looking to see if the man had left anything behind on his jacket, the disgust on Valen's face is evident that someone so lowly had the audacity to touch him. He rises from his chair. "Is there something I can help you with, my good man?"he calls back to the large man and then looks at his (soiled?) shoulder.
"I think you already helped him... to clean the shit off his hands anyway" Brock would say with a grin as he drops down into his seat and puts his thick leather boots on the table. "You going to let him do that Valen" He would say with a grin as he folds his hands behind his head, waiting to see what happens next.
Sinking into her seat fully ashamed to be in tavern now with such literal and figurative shit, Wallis says nothing just puts up her hood and watches her companions asas well as the bar patrons. Simon, her tressym, moves closer into the folds of her heavy cloak sensing her agitation.
"Where have I brought us love," Wallis whispers to the creature as images of home and all its hardships flash in her mind.
Nothing compared to her last few hours in 'civilization'...
"Oh I'm done, thanking you kindly your lordship, you've already been a big help." The guffaws from his companion seem deafeningly loud in what has suddenly become a very quiet tavern. The fat man chuckles and turns back to his drink.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Vhon - Level 2 Warlock - What shall become of the Drunken Sailor?
Valen throws the dagger back onto the table, the point sticking with a heavy thud. He then steps around the table towards to fat man, his face becoming flush with the anger rising at the disrespect. "You're going to clean this one way or another," he says in an even tone. The warlock begins to run his finger over the thin, dark blue crystal, no longer than an ink pen on a gold chain around his neck.
The heavyset man freezes up in the act of standing, his face caught in a grimace as the spell catches him off guard, his drinking partner lurches to his feet, slightly unsteadily eyeing the other man warily, he pokes him in the face, which results in his friend rocking back into the chair still frozen in position.
If it had been quiet before, it is silent now. Nobody seems to want to make the first move. The friend, looking back at his mate reaches for his belt.
(Roll initiative - nothing is decided yet though.)
A wicked grin appears on the warlock's face as his spell takes effect. He quickly strides over, removing his jacket, revealing a well-oiled studded leather chest piece. "Now, what are we going to do about this," he says holding the soiled garment to the man's nose. With the other hand, he reaches behind him, his hand disappearing, and pulls a longsword out of thin air it seems. He draws it lightly across the man's cheek, causing a line of blood to appear.
Intimidation (perhaps with adv?) 10 (21)
(He can attempt to save at the end of each round.)
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Wallis remains in her seat. She's no tavern brawler. She looks anxiously around for some sort of law enforcement to intervene or for anyone threatening to join!
Dzendalin hasn't been kind to you, almost out of money you've found yourself a bed in a tavern of questionable cleanliness and unquestionably bad reputation. It does have the benefit of being extremely cheap but the constant threat of robbery and casual violence has led to you congregating with a few others who seem a little more reasonable than the rest of the patrons of the Hidden Treasure, a ridiculously unsuitable name for a tavern if such low standards.
At the start of the dinner hour, before the drinking has really gotten started the three of you are wishing you were enjoying the stringy meat and hard bread you find presented to you by Fen, one of the less hostile members of the serving staff, who nonetheless gives you a challenging look as the food is set down as if daring you to complain.
The oil lamps gutter around the bar, and near the door but the space, as always, is gloomy, you are joined by about a dozen other patrons, mostly also engaged in struggling through their meal but there is at least one comatose drunk slumped in a corner and the barkeep, Segan, an old man with a vicious temper towards the girls who work for him, eyes all the customers as if they are the bane of his life.
You have had more pleasureable meals.
Conversation turns as it does to money and opportunity, you all know that you share a lack of funds and prospects so you have spent the day, unsuccessfully, looking for work. Brock knows there will be more pit fighting soon but nobody is offering him anything for another few days, and his money might not stretch that far. Wallis hasn't found anyone or thing to track down worth the time and people seems distrustful of Valen's intentions as he looks for opportunities in the area to prove his skills.
As the meal drags on the three look across the grimy table at each other..
(Take the opportunity to introduce your character in terms of appearance and demeanour and then I'll get this show on the road)
Vhon - Level 2 Warlock - What shall become of the Drunken Sailor?
Lyreis - Level 6 Elf Fighter - Eberron: Omega
DM - Dzenda: The Cracks - DM - Dzenda: Whispered Tales
Brock will crack his knuckles before reaching towards his tankard of ale with his scared and bloodied hands to take a drink. The six foot tall dark haired man would slouch backwards in his chair as downs his drink and wipes some of the remaining liquid form his beard. "So any of you guys have any ideas for making some coin?" He would say with a smile as his leans forward and the metal bracers covering his forearms clank on the table. Looking down at his arms and then glancing at his shoulders before looking back across the table "I guess I should take off my brawling outfit when I don't have a fight...but ya know... I worry my fans may not recognize me without it!" he would say with a hardy laugh. "Who knows, maybe a fan of mine might give us a job!" He would mention with a flex of his muscles before tearing off a large bite of dried meat.
Wallis has since pushed the plate of 'food' away and is stroking her tressym who's dozing in her lap out of view from the questionable clientele. She's only in the city because Brock promised her work but now she's finally come she's starting to regret having left the wilds.
"You said you had work," Wallis replies glumly. "I didn't realize you meant pit fighting," the half-elf adds with an edge of distaste in her tone. She speaks with an air of education and worldliness in her voice. Truth is Wallis had never been much of anywhere outside a hundred-mile radius of home but was a voracious reader of lore and geographic from abroad. "I thought...I thought you gave that up years ago," she added next looking around them before looking back at Brock, a childhood friend she had not seen in a decade but whom she corresponded since he left their rural town to make his fortune. A fortune she hoped, now that her father had died, she could find too.
OOC: Phade that's Wreck and my PCs link. We were the town's misfits he left but my PC stayed. If you'd like more info we're still fleshing it out. Hope that's cool!
Sometimes a Nat 1 tells a better story than a Nat 20 ever could.
This well-dressed human looks well out of place in this establishment. With his well-made white and brown boots kicked up on the table, he sips his glass of cheap wine doing his best to try to enjoy it. In his other hand he deftly spins the handle of one of his daggers in the palm of his hand. He chokes down another sip of his wine. "Ahem... If you are looking for a fight, and since it is becoming harder to find a worthy opponent, I would be more than happy to oblige. But I suspect it wouldn't last too long," he says with all the confidence as he swirls the wine in his glass. "Neither one of us would make any money, which is a shame since this meal just about represents the last of the coin to my name." He plants the tip of the dagger in the table and looks away from the pair. He scans the room, smoothing his golden hair as he does so.
As the group speak Segan moves out from behind the bar, hissing something at one of the girls who has not done something or another. From their positions both Wallis and Brock notice a young girl sitting behind the bar, crying softly to herself, they do not recognise her as one of the serving girls. In the general hustle and bustle a large man, fat but clearly muscular, walks past them on his way back from the truly terrifying excuse for a bathroom placing a meaty paw on Valen's shoulder as he does before laughing harshly as he walks off.
Another man who has been sharing his table nearby that belonging to the three companions was, again to both Brock and Wallis, clearly watching them laughs out loud as well, the pair clanking mugs together as they get back to their drinking. Nobody else reacts obviously but one or two of the other patrons do go quiet.
Segan:
OOC: Using Passive Perception for observations made above.
Vhon - Level 2 Warlock - What shall become of the Drunken Sailor?
Lyreis - Level 6 Elf Fighter - Eberron: Omega
DM - Dzenda: The Cracks - DM - Dzenda: Whispered Tales
"Pit fighting is good money.... and I never said I gave it up... I just took a break for a while... well.. it was my hand that broke but you get the idea." Brock would say to Wallis, rubbing his right hand as the memories of his shattered hand bring back a few painful memories. Then turning to Valen.. "I think you're right friend! No one wants to pay to watch me knock ya on your ass after first couple punches." Brock would say with a smile and a wink as he leans back in his chair. The smile on his face would fade as he noticed the crying girl behind the counter. Standing up slowly, the large muscular man would wipe the last of the food and drink from his beard and turn away from his companions. Looking towards the bar, Brock would begin making his way to the girl. About half way there he would shout back towards Valen and Wallis "make sure he didn't just wipe shit on your shoulder Valen!" before approaching the girl. "Everything alright?" He would say with a smile.. a smile that was surprisingly friendly for someone with a face so hard and covered with scars.
Before the girl answers the barkeep reaches out and puts his hand on Brock's forearm as he rests it on the bar. "Sit back at your table and I'll come talk to you and your friends, I was just coming over to see you, just hold your horses while I serve these folks" he points at a few men shambling up to the bar looking rough but reasonably sober. He then moves round positioning himself between the girl and all the patrons, Brock included.
Vhon - Level 2 Warlock - What shall become of the Drunken Sailor?
Lyreis - Level 6 Elf Fighter - Eberron: Omega
DM - Dzenda: The Cracks - DM - Dzenda: Whispered Tales
"Alright..." Brock would reply as smile on his face disappears, quickly turning around and moving back to his table. He would glance over at the woman once more before looking back to Valen, trying to determine if the men were laughing because the large man wiped his dirty poo hands on his friends nice clothes.
Perception? 17
OOC - I'd call Insight over Perception so 15, not 17 - pretty clear signs indicate the dirty poo hand may very well have been the source of the laughter)
Vhon - Level 2 Warlock - What shall become of the Drunken Sailor?
Lyreis - Level 6 Elf Fighter - Eberron: Omega
DM - Dzenda: The Cracks - DM - Dzenda: Whispered Tales
Valen's eyes flash in delight at the possibility of a future challenge. "There is only one way to find out." He smiles and begins to spin the dagger again.
Before even looking to see if the man had left anything behind on his jacket, the disgust on Valen's face is evident that someone so lowly had the audacity to touch him. He rises from his chair. "Is there something I can help you with, my good man?" he calls back to the large man and then looks at his (soiled?) shoulder.
"I think you already helped him... to clean the shit off his hands anyway" Brock would say with a grin as he drops down into his seat and puts his thick leather boots on the table. "You going to let him do that Valen" He would say with a grin as he folds his hands behind his head, waiting to see what happens next.
Sinking into her seat fully ashamed to be in tavern now with such literal and figurative shit, Wallis says nothing just puts up her hood and watches her companions asas well as the bar patrons. Simon, her tressym, moves closer into the folds of her heavy cloak sensing her agitation.
"Where have I brought us love," Wallis whispers to the creature as images of home and all its hardships flash in her mind.
Nothing compared to her last few hours in 'civilization'...
Sometimes a Nat 1 tells a better story than a Nat 20 ever could.
"Oh I'm done, thanking you kindly your lordship, you've already been a big help." The guffaws from his companion seem deafeningly loud in what has suddenly become a very quiet tavern. The fat man chuckles and turns back to his drink.
Vhon - Level 2 Warlock - What shall become of the Drunken Sailor?
Lyreis - Level 6 Elf Fighter - Eberron: Omega
DM - Dzenda: The Cracks - DM - Dzenda: Whispered Tales
Valen throws the dagger back onto the table, the point sticking with a heavy thud. He then steps around the table towards to fat man, his face becoming flush with the anger rising at the disrespect. "You're going to clean this one way or another," he says in an even tone. The warlock begins to run his finger over the thin, dark blue crystal, no longer than an ink pen on a gold chain around his neck.
Hold Person, DC 13 WisST please
Wisdom Save 4
The heavyset man freezes up in the act of standing, his face caught in a grimace as the spell catches him off guard, his drinking partner lurches to his feet, slightly unsteadily eyeing the other man warily, he pokes him in the face, which results in his friend rocking back into the chair still frozen in position.
If it had been quiet before, it is silent now. Nobody seems to want to make the first move. The friend, looking back at his mate reaches for his belt.
(Roll initiative - nothing is decided yet though.)
Thug 1 (Held) 20
Thug 2 14
Vhon - Level 2 Warlock - What shall become of the Drunken Sailor?
Lyreis - Level 6 Elf Fighter - Eberron: Omega
DM - Dzenda: The Cracks - DM - Dzenda: Whispered Tales
A wicked grin appears on the warlock's face as his spell takes effect. He quickly strides over, removing his jacket, revealing a well-oiled studded leather chest piece. "Now, what are we going to do about this," he says holding the soiled garment to the man's nose. With the other hand, he reaches behind him, his hand disappearing, and pulls a longsword out of thin air it seems. He draws it lightly across the man's cheek, causing a line of blood to appear.
Intimidation (perhaps with adv?) 10 (21)
(He can attempt to save at the end of each round.)
Roll initiative ^^ but if you get a chance to act you can certainly have the intimidation roll with advantage from above.
Vhon - Level 2 Warlock - What shall become of the Drunken Sailor?
Lyreis - Level 6 Elf Fighter - Eberron: Omega
DM - Dzenda: The Cracks - DM - Dzenda: Whispered Tales
Brock initiative! 17
(Oops. I thought I refreshed to check for updates... My bad. Didn't mean to walk all over that.)
Initiative: 19
Wallis remains in her seat. She's no tavern brawler. She looks anxiously around for some sort of law enforcement to intervene or for anyone threatening to join!
Perception 6
OOC: I'll roll just encase she's needed later. 7
Sometimes a Nat 1 tells a better story than a Nat 20 ever could.