It is the first day of Flamerule, and there is a palpable energy of enthusiasm in the air in the otherwise quiet town of Daggerford. Finding the Lady Luck Tavern is no trouble at all, regardless of how you arrived. Maybe you asked one of the guards at the northern gate, or one of the dockworkers in the harbor. Maybe you just stumbled upon it, as it’s clear to see from the town’s main market district - something anyone that asked directions would have been told.
“Well it’s right there in the middle of the Markets, innit?”
Yes, of course, silly me, thank you kindly good sir, or something to that effect.
As you each step into the establishment, you are met with the same sight.
The instructions had been clear. The only question was which one was the Barkeep? Upon a moment's worth of considering, the answer is obvious - the bald, aging hulk of a man staring right at you as your eyes adjust to the darker setting. The other person behind the bar, a hurried looking half-elven girl, is busily cleaning, and filling the occasional tankards to then deliver to people sitting in the room’s various occupants, and didn’t so much as glance at you coming in. But the big guy seemed to instantly be sizing you up - for what reason, one can only guess, but regardless, he must be the person to deliver the line to.
(OOC: Starting with Garren - Please post what you do as you enter into the Lady Luck Tavern, along with any details you would like the other players to know about your journey there, your motivations, your curiosity regarding the strange post, etc. You’ll have a chance to talk to each other more before it really starts so you don’t need to drop everything here - the only thing I need, though, is what you do when you come in).
(OOC - Not that there's any rush really, there isn't, but it also doesn't really matter who goes first actually - so anyone that's chomping at the bit to get going can feel free to give me their response to the opening question)
Gus, a young boy, maybe 16, short brown hair, wearing an off white under tunic and a blue gray travel robe over that. A small brown cat perched on his shoulder, holding a staff in hand and a small satchel over his shoulder, approaches the bar and clears his throat, um uhm, pardon me, may I get a small cup of milk? And do you have any stew? Maybe agiant cider?
Geren strides confidently into the Lady Luck Tavern, cape flowing behind him.
He takes pride in his appearance and took the time to ensure he looked flawless before entering.
Walking up to the barkeep he flashes him a charming smile.
"Mr. V. sent me."
The barkeeper seems startled for a moment but quickly collects himself. “That so, is it? I was beginning to wonder if I’d imagined that whole thing. You wanna know how I knew someone would come in here and say what you just said to me? You won’t believe me. But I’m going to tell you anyway. I dreamed about it.” He snorts derisively. “In my dream, a gods damned little black bird landed on the windowsill and told me that on this first day of Midsummer I’d be visited by a number of people no less than four and no more than six, and that each would say the same thing to me - the thing that you just said. And then it said that I should direct you all to the table in the back over there,” he turns to point at a corner table in the rear, large enough for three people on each side, plus one at the end.
Turning back to you he begins again. “That’s not even the weirdest part, the weirdest part was that, er-” as he speaks, he suddenly grows rather pale and sweaty, emitting a faint, oddly pitched groan before suddenly sighing and relaxing, his pained look vanishing. He then blinks. “What was I saying? Oh… uh, right. My names Del, and-” he’s about to continue when he’s suddenly interrupted.
“From ‘ell,” a voice cuts in from a man hunched over his tankard at the end of the bar. The words sound disrespectful at the least, but his tone almost suggests he was trying to be helpful by adding a detail Del had forgotten. The young half-elven barmaid that is frantically setting up the tavern, clearing tankards nearby, dons a short-lived smile that you catch a glimpse of before she quickly resumes pretending that she’s not listening to anything being said.
Del sighs. “Aye, Del from Hell,” he continues, then shoots the man a hostile look. “Least that’s what some folk call me around here. Anyway. Can I get you something to drink while you wait for the… illustrious Mr. V’s… remaining friends?” his smile is suddenly uncharacteristically wide. The barmaid, having stopped cleaning the tankard she was working on, is staring at Del with a strange mix of amusement, bewilderment, and concern, but after a moment seems to shrug and go back to work.
Gus, a young boy, maybe 16, short brown hair, wearing an off white under tunic and a blue gray travel robe over that. A small brown cat perched on his shoulder, holding a staff in hand and a small satchel over his shoulder, approaches the bar and clears his throat, um uhm, pardon me, may I get a small cup of milk? And do you have any stew? Maybe agiant cider?
There's an audible snort from the end of the table. The barkeeper turns his attention from the confident, cape wearing patron and blinks at Gus a moment as if he'd been unable to see him until just now. "Where'd you come in from? You sure you're in the right place, son? We're fresh out of milk. Don't think we've got stew either. Just a bunch of drunks that've been stewing in their own piss and ale. A giant cider, on the other hand," he looks over the various kegs on tap. "We can make that happen. Innes."
The half-elven barmaid looks up at the big man. "Yea, boss?"
"Make that happen." She nods and fills a tankard of cider. "That'll be two copper."
The half-elf places the cider down on the table. "Can I pet him?" she shyly asks Gus, referring to the cat on his shoulder. "We've got some chicken livers I can chop of for him, don't we Del?"
The big man groans. "Aye, fine. Three coppers then, if'n your cat will be taken the livers."
Gus pulls outof the coin, placing it on the he looks to the barkeep, I'm suppose to mention that Mr V sent me. He thanks the young elf and says yes, her name is Madame Cleo, you can't leave the first part out, she's a bit of a diva. he smiles at her.
Eltra Wibblerobble, who the the folks where he's from called Old Eltra, walks into the tavern grumpily. He is as wide as he is tall and uses his quarterstaff less as a weapon and more as a walking stick. He wears a cloak over his clothes and wobbles over to the bar. He tries to get the barkeepers attention but they are talking to some yodel with a cat....Who brings a cat to a bar he thinks to himself. "HEY! Down here!" He bangs his staff on the top of the bar "What does a guy have to do to get noticed!? Ah forget it....Mr. V sent me....." He waits a moment and looks at the catman hearing him say the same thing "Well catman looks like we've been sent by the same chap eh?"
Gus pulls outof the coin, placing it on the he looks to the barkeep, I'm suppose to mention that Mr V sent me. He thanks the young elf and says yes, her name is Madame Cleo, you can't leave the first part out, she's a bit of a diva. he smiles at her.
After greedily snatching your coins from the bar, he almost reflexively bites into one before smiling. “Thank ye kindly. Let me or Innes know if you’ll be needing anything else.”
As he is doing this, the half-elven barmaid is chopping up some chicken livers on a plate. She comes over to the wizard & familiar pairing and smiles while looking at the familiar. "Pleasure to meet you, Madame Cleo. What a fine human you have for a pet! Here is an offering of chicken liver for you nourishment," she says before placing the plate down onto the bar.
Del seems about to protest about the likelihood of a cat jumping down onto his bar, but stops when he hears your mentioning the message.
"You too, eh? Go figure. The bird said there'd be a celestial and a man, a giant and a gnome, a rabbit and a cat-man - so that's what he meant by cat-man. A cat on a man, har!" he shakes his head, his entire aside much more to himself than to Gus. Then he resumes addressing Gus more directly. "So look, all I know is you're all supposed to wait over at the table in the back, like I was telling the other fella with the cape. So if there's nothing else, kindly take yer cat and yer chicken livers and head that away," he instructs, pointing to a table in the rear back corner.
He pauses, seemingly trying to hear something but failing. "Did you hear something?"
Eltra Wibblerobble, who the the folks where he's from called Old Eltra, walks into the tavern grumpily. He is as wide as he is tall and uses his quarterstaff less as a weapon and more as a walking stick. He wears a cloak over his clothes and wobbles over to the bar. He tries to get the barkeepers attention but they are talking to some yodel with a cat....Who brings a cat to a bar he thinks to himself. "HEY! Down here!" He bangs his staff on the top of the bar "What does a guy have to do to get noticed!? Ah forget it....Mr. V sent me....." He waits a moment and looks at the catman hearing him say the same thing "Well catman looks like we've been sent by the same chap eh?"
Del looks over the edge of the bar and sees Eltra. "Oh, and then you'd be the gnome I take it. Great then. I'm Del," he starts, then shoots a warning look to the man at the edge of the bar as he notices his head raising as if to speak. After the man lowers his head without a word, Del resumes, satisfied. "Del 'from Hell', as they call me. I take it you heard my instructions to the cat-man. Anything to drink while you wait?"
Gus knods thanks toward Del. Looking to the female elf, She says thank you and is insisting that I ask your name? She can rather insistent when she wants wants to be. He gathers the bowl of liver, his drink and calls for Cleo to climb back on his shoulder as he waits on a reply from her.
Eltra nods "Gus....Well met...I am Eltra Wibblerobble....I've been from these parts fer longer than I'd like to say. Well Dell I will take a cider and you can put it on the Gus' tab here." Eltra will wait for the cider and Gus to head over to the table Dell pointed out.
The barmaid blushes. "I'm Innes," she says meekly. The growingly impatient glare of Del can be felt on the back of her head. She pets Madame Cleo on the head, then looks at Gus and winks once before returning behind the bar.
Eltra nods "Gus....Well met...I am Eltra Wibblerobble....I've been from these parts fer longer than I'd like to say. Well Dell I will take a cider and you can put it on the Gus' tab here." Eltra will wait for the cider and Gus to head over to the table Dell pointed out.
"One cider, coming up," Del bellows, directed at Innes as she returns to the bar. In a flash, she's placing a full tankard of cider on the counter. Del nods, satisfied. "Indeed, I'll start a tab for you folks."
Innes Gus whispers to himself as he follows Eltra over to the table. Awkwardly he places the bowl of liver down, his mug, Cleo jumping from his shoulder to the table top, and he clumsily pulls a chair out for himself, hi, um, hello to you all.
A Harengon girl walks into the bar. She looks around curiously. "Excuse me, I was sent by Mr V. Who do I need to talk to?"
Del, along with a good number of the patrons by the bar go silent. It's safe to say it's not a common sight in these parts to see a bipedal rabbit the size, and proportions, of an adult human woman. Del nods, surprisingly less perturbed than he might have been. "Rabbit. You're the rabbit then. That's it. I'm quitting drinking."
There's an audible snort from a patron at the end of the bar.
The barmaid, a half-elven girl the equivalent in age to maybe a human in their later teens, seizes the initiative and clears her throat. "I apologize on behalf of my boss, ma'am. He hasn't been feeling well," she explains, overtly embarrassed - but for once, not with herself. She's feeling embarrassed for everyone else at the bar that is staring wide eyed, and mouths open. Perhaps the elven half of her heritage makes her less perturbed by sights unfamiliar to most humans. Elves, after all, also came from the Feywild.
"My understanding is that you are supposed to wait in the table in the back, over there - the one with the cat eating from a plate on it." She smiles. "Can we get you anything?"
It is the first day of Flamerule, and there is a palpable energy of enthusiasm in the air in the otherwise quiet town of Daggerford. Finding the Lady Luck Tavern is no trouble at all, regardless of how you arrived. Maybe you asked one of the guards at the northern gate, or one of the dockworkers in the harbor. Maybe you just stumbled upon it, as it’s clear to see from the town’s main market district - something anyone that asked directions would have been told.
“Well it’s right there in the middle of the Markets, innit?”
Yes, of course, silly me, thank you kindly good sir, or something to that effect.
As you each step into the establishment, you are met with the same sight.
The instructions had been clear. The only question was which one was the Barkeep? Upon a moment's worth of considering, the answer is obvious - the bald, aging hulk of a man staring right at you as your eyes adjust to the darker setting. The other person behind the bar, a hurried looking half-elven girl, is busily cleaning, and filling the occasional tankards to then deliver to people sitting in the room’s various occupants, and didn’t so much as glance at you coming in. But the big guy seemed to instantly be sizing you up - for what reason, one can only guess, but regardless, he must be the person to deliver the line to.
(OOC: Starting with Garren - Please post what you do as you enter into the Lady Luck Tavern, along with any details you would like the other players to know about your journey there, your motivations, your curiosity regarding the strange post, etc. You’ll have a chance to talk to each other more before it really starts so you don’t need to drop everything here - the only thing I need, though, is what you do when you come in).
(OOC - Not that there's any rush really, there isn't, but it also doesn't really matter who goes first actually - so anyone that's chomping at the bit to get going can feel free to give me their response to the opening question)
Geren strides confidently into the Lady Luck Tavern, cape flowing behind him.
He takes pride in his appearance and took the time to ensure he looked flawless before entering.
Walking up to the barkeep he flashes him a charming smile.
"Mr. V. sent me."
Gus, a young boy, maybe 16, short brown hair, wearing an off white under tunic and a blue gray travel robe over that. A small brown cat perched on his shoulder, holding a staff in hand and a small satchel over his shoulder, approaches the bar and clears his throat, um uhm, pardon me, may I get a small cup of milk? And do you have any stew? Maybe agiant cider?
The barkeeper seems startled for a moment but quickly collects himself. “That so, is it? I was beginning to wonder if I’d imagined that whole thing. You wanna know how I knew someone would come in here and say what you just said to me? You won’t believe me. But I’m going to tell you anyway. I dreamed about it.” He snorts derisively. “In my dream, a gods damned little black bird landed on the windowsill and told me that on this first day of Midsummer I’d be visited by a number of people no less than four and no more than six, and that each would say the same thing to me - the thing that you just said. And then it said that I should direct you all to the table in the back over there,” he turns to point at a corner table in the rear, large enough for three people on each side, plus one at the end.
Turning back to you he begins again. “That’s not even the weirdest part, the weirdest part was that, er-” as he speaks, he suddenly grows rather pale and sweaty, emitting a faint, oddly pitched groan before suddenly sighing and relaxing, his pained look vanishing. He then blinks. “What was I saying? Oh… uh, right. My names Del, and-” he’s about to continue when he’s suddenly interrupted.
“From ‘ell,” a voice cuts in from a man hunched over his tankard at the end of the bar. The words sound disrespectful at the least, but his tone almost suggests he was trying to be helpful by adding a detail Del had forgotten. The young half-elven barmaid that is frantically setting up the tavern, clearing tankards nearby, dons a short-lived smile that you catch a glimpse of before she quickly resumes pretending that she’s not listening to anything being said.
Del sighs. “Aye, Del from Hell,” he continues, then shoots the man a hostile look. “Least that’s what some folk call me around here. Anyway. Can I get you something to drink while you wait for the… illustrious Mr. V’s… remaining friends?” his smile is suddenly uncharacteristically wide. The barmaid, having stopped cleaning the tankard she was working on, is staring at Del with a strange mix of amusement, bewilderment, and concern, but after a moment seems to shrug and go back to work.
There's an audible snort from the end of the table. The barkeeper turns his attention from the confident, cape wearing patron and blinks at Gus a moment as if he'd been unable to see him until just now. "Where'd you come in from? You sure you're in the right place, son? We're fresh out of milk. Don't think we've got stew either. Just a bunch of drunks that've been stewing in their own piss and ale. A giant cider, on the other hand," he looks over the various kegs on tap. "We can make that happen. Innes."
The half-elven barmaid looks up at the big man. "Yea, boss?"
"Make that happen." She nods and fills a tankard of cider. "That'll be two copper."
The half-elf places the cider down on the table. "Can I pet him?" she shyly asks Gus, referring to the cat on his shoulder. "We've got some chicken livers I can chop of for him, don't we Del?"
The big man groans. "Aye, fine. Three coppers then, if'n your cat will be taken the livers."
Gus pulls outof the coin, placing it on the he looks to the barkeep, I'm suppose to mention that Mr V sent me. He thanks the young elf and says yes, her name is Madame Cleo, you can't leave the first part out, she's a bit of a diva. he smiles at her.
Eltra Wibblerobble, who the the folks where he's from called Old Eltra, walks into the tavern grumpily. He is as wide as he is tall and uses his quarterstaff less as a weapon and more as a walking stick. He wears a cloak over his clothes and wobbles over to the bar. He tries to get the barkeepers attention but they are talking to some yodel with a cat....Who brings a cat to a bar he thinks to himself. "HEY! Down here!" He bangs his staff on the top of the bar "What does a guy have to do to get noticed!? Ah forget it....Mr. V sent me....." He waits a moment and looks at the catman hearing him say the same thing "Well catman looks like we've been sent by the same chap eh?"
Indeed master gnome, he extends his hand, Augustus Leafash, my friends call me Gus, it's an honor to meet you.
After greedily snatching your coins from the bar, he almost reflexively bites into one before smiling. “Thank ye kindly. Let me or Innes know if you’ll be needing anything else.”
As he is doing this, the half-elven barmaid is chopping up some chicken livers on a plate. She comes over to the wizard & familiar pairing and smiles while looking at the familiar. "Pleasure to meet you, Madame Cleo. What a fine human you have for a pet! Here is an offering of chicken liver for you nourishment," she says before placing the plate down onto the bar.
Del seems about to protest about the likelihood of a cat jumping down onto his bar, but stops when he hears your mentioning the message.
"You too, eh? Go figure. The bird said there'd be a celestial and a man, a giant and a gnome, a rabbit and a cat-man - so that's what he meant by cat-man. A cat on a man, har!" he shakes his head, his entire aside much more to himself than to Gus. Then he resumes addressing Gus more directly. "So look, all I know is you're all supposed to wait over at the table in the back, like I was telling the other fella with the cape. So if there's nothing else, kindly take yer cat and yer chicken livers and head that away," he instructs, pointing to a table in the rear back corner.
He pauses, seemingly trying to hear something but failing. "Did you hear something?"
Del looks over the edge of the bar and sees Eltra. "Oh, and then you'd be the gnome I take it. Great then. I'm Del," he starts, then shoots a warning look to the man at the edge of the bar as he notices his head raising as if to speak. After the man lowers his head without a word, Del resumes, satisfied. "Del 'from Hell', as they call me. I take it you heard my instructions to the cat-man. Anything to drink while you wait?"
Gus knods thanks toward Del. Looking to the female elf, She says thank you and is insisting that I ask your name? She can rather insistent when she wants wants to be. He gathers the bowl of liver, his drink and calls for Cleo to climb back on his shoulder as he waits on a reply from her.
Eltra nods "Gus....Well met...I am Eltra Wibblerobble....I've been from these parts fer longer than I'd like to say. Well Dell I will take a cider and you can put it on the Gus' tab here." Eltra will wait for the cider and Gus to head over to the table Dell pointed out.
The barmaid blushes. "I'm Innes," she says meekly. The growingly impatient glare of Del can be felt on the back of her head. She pets Madame Cleo on the head, then looks at Gus and winks once before returning behind the bar.
"One cider, coming up," Del bellows, directed at Innes as she returns to the bar. In a flash, she's placing a full tankard of cider on the counter. Del nods, satisfied. "Indeed, I'll start a tab for you folks."
Innes Gus whispers to himself as he follows Eltra over to the table. Awkwardly he places the bowl of liver down, his mug, Cleo jumping from his shoulder to the table top, and he clumsily pulls a chair out for himself, hi, um, hello to you all.
A Harengon girl walks into the bar. She looks around curiously. "Excuse me, I was sent by Mr V. Who do I need to talk to?"
Del, along with a good number of the patrons by the bar go silent. It's safe to say it's not a common sight in these parts to see a bipedal rabbit the size, and proportions, of an adult human woman. Del nods, surprisingly less perturbed than he might have been. "Rabbit. You're the rabbit then. That's it. I'm quitting drinking."
There's an audible snort from a patron at the end of the bar.
The barmaid, a half-elven girl the equivalent in age to maybe a human in their later teens, seizes the initiative and clears her throat. "I apologize on behalf of my boss, ma'am. He hasn't been feeling well," she explains, overtly embarrassed - but for once, not with herself. She's feeling embarrassed for everyone else at the bar that is staring wide eyed, and mouths open. Perhaps the elven half of her heritage makes her less perturbed by sights unfamiliar to most humans. Elves, after all, also came from the Feywild.
"My understanding is that you are supposed to wait in the table in the back, over there - the one with the cat eating from a plate on it." She smiles. "Can we get you anything?"
"Thank you. I'll have a strong cider." She walks over to the table mutter about being called a rabbit.
She Introduces herself "I'm Bree. I see there's a group of us. Can I have your names?"
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