Miss Priscilla Elizabeth's Tavern and Inn for Washed-Up, Reclusive Cotagonists

(cough)"where are my pancakes? I am quite hungry and just came here for the food!"

*Quite magical...* 

*Now do I bring an old character or make a new one?*

Quote from atomicgamer2012_13 >>

(cough)"where are my pancakes? I am quite hungry and just came here for the food!"

*It's been 23 minutes and you've posted thrice. Not everyone is constantly available to RP, you might have to wait for them.* 

Quote from Wes__ >>

Quote from atomicgamer2012_13 >>

(cough)"where are my pancakes? I am quite hungry and just came here for the food!"

*It's been 23 minutes and you've posted thrice. Not everyone is constantly available to RP, you might have to wait for them.* 

 *ok, sorry.*

Quote from atomicgamer2012_13 >>

Quote from Wes__ >>

Quote from atomicgamer2012_13 >>

(cough)"where are my pancakes? I am quite hungry and just came here for the food!"

*It's been 23 minutes and you've posted thrice. Not everyone is constantly available to RP, you might have to wait for them.* 

 *ok, sorry.*

*It's okay, just be patient.* 

*mmm very magical yes indeed. Who wouldst thou likely to commit thy roleplay?*

*Imma be hopping on and off if anyone wants to rp, so expect slow responses.* 

A younger child sits at a small round table in the corner, drinking tea. They have a napkin in front of them that they frequently cough blood into, and their hair is tied into a golden brown braid. Their skin is sunburned, their eyes glazed, and they frown at the people surrounding them before promptly coughing again. 

Quote from SenseiHomebrew >>

Quote from SturgeonMan >>

*mmm very magical yes indeed. Who wouldst thou likely to commit thy roleplay?*

 *yes i am waiting*

 A white dragonborn man with a flute in his mouth sits at a table, fiddling with the shredded strings of an ornate lyre.

the human breaks into song for no apparent reason.

Quote from SenseiHomebrew >>

Quote from Wes__ >>

Quote from SenseiHomebrew >>

"Well thisplace seems perfect." As i wait for my meal.

"Thank you very much!" comes a wheeze off to your left. The speaker: an aging, white-haired man who looks as if he's on the verge of death. "I've lived here my whole life, and I'm glad to see you're enjoying!" He hacks and coughs a couple seconds, then: "My mother would have loved to hear that..."

Your meal comes while you wait, a steaming broth bubbling with traces of meat and vegetables.  

 I slowly sip said broth and observe. 6 perception check.

The place is relatively normal, as far as you can see---besides the patrons. They, on the other hand, are varied, coming from many different walks of life. Purple dragonborns----purple?---sit in the corner, chatting with a man with two heads, and dwarves intermingle with elves (usually their enemies) throughout the place.

Your food is delicious. 

*You don't really need many checks, since you're just looking around.* 

the human is tone deaf.

Quote from SenseiHomebrew >>

 

Quote from Wes__ >>

Quote from SenseiHomebrew >>

Quote from Wes__ >>

Quote from SenseiHomebrew >>

"Well thisplace seems perfect." As i wait for my meal.

"Thank you very much!" comes a wheeze off to your left. The speaker: an aging, white-haired man who looks as if he's on the verge of death. "I've lived here my whole life, and I'm glad to see you're enjoying!" He hacks and coughs a couple seconds, then: "My mother would have loved to hear that..."

Your meal comes while you wait, a steaming broth bubbling with traces of meat and vegetables.  

 I slowly sip said broth and observe. 6 perception check.

The place is relatively normal, as far as you can see---besides the patrons. They, on the other hand, are varied, coming from many different walks of life. Purple dragonborns----purple?---sit in the corner, chatting with a man with two heads, and dwarves intermingle with elves (usually their enemies) throughout the place.

Your food is delicious. 

*You don't really need many checks, since you're just looking around.* 

 {Seen red, blue, green, black, white. But not purple.} I look closer at the dragonborns. As I lift my drink, a scar on my left arm that is shaped like Tiamat is visible.

The dragonborns seem to be happy, innocent: they're not really doing anything except enjoying themselves. 

Quote from Wes__ >>

"Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble..."

---

In recent times, the influx of side characters into the city has proven difficult for the town to handle----not only for the ongoing competition for space, but also for the xenophobia and distrust that inevitably arrives with any newcomers. 

Baghra knows the second well----people have always been wary around her, not that she notices much. Prefers to stick to her cauldrons and potions, her scraggly noir cat looking over her shoulder with its lone unblinking eye. Nothing really matters to her, as far as others are concerned.

She came to town two days ago with a small pouch of things and a lifetime of regrets and dreams deferred, setting up shop on the far edge of town where the grass drops off into a fetid, murky bog. Her shack reeks with the putrid odor of rotten eggshells, and the house shifts in the water when you take a step, but she, undeterred, has set up a sign: 

HERE WE HAVE POTIONS, LIFE ADVICE, AND A MAGICAL SAMON.

(alligator meat to be served while we chat)

 

Quote from SenseiHomebrew >>

Quote from Wes__ >>

Quote from SenseiHomebrew >>

 

Quote from Wes__ >>

Quote from SenseiHomebrew >>

Quote from Wes__ >>

Quote from SenseiHomebrew >>

"Well thisplace seems perfect." As i wait for my meal.

"Thank you very much!" comes a wheeze off to your left. The speaker: an aging, white-haired man who looks as if he's on the verge of death. "I've lived here my whole life, and I'm glad to see you're enjoying!" He hacks and coughs a couple seconds, then: "My mother would have loved to hear that..."

Your meal comes while you wait, a steaming broth bubbling with traces of meat and vegetables.  

 I slowly sip said broth and observe. 6 perception check.

The place is relatively normal, as far as you can see---besides the patrons. They, on the other hand, are varied, coming from many different walks of life. Purple dragonborns----purple?---sit in the corner, chatting with a man with two heads, and dwarves intermingle with elves (usually their enemies) throughout the place.

Your food is delicious. 

*You don't really need many checks, since you're just looking around.* 

 {Seen red, blue, green, black, white. But not purple.} I look closer at the dragonborns. As I lift my drink, a scar on my left arm that is shaped like Tiamat is visible.

The dragonborns seem to be happy, innocent: they're not really doing anything except enjoying themselves. 

 {Quite odd} I walk to the dragonborns and say "even' you caught my eye since haven't seen one of you scale color and I'm doing research on my blood"*shows mark on left arm*"this is a sorcery mark means that I have draconic blood"

"Erm...that's a lot to say for a first encounter," one of the pair says in a sharp brogue. "I would ask Nigel on that, he's the expert. Well, he's a historian, but maybe he can help?" 

"Ah, yes, dear. Your blood, you say? What do you need to know about your blood?" 

*Gimme three words that I'll make a character based on for here.*

*I also may make a bard but the kid doesn't seem to have gotten any attention so ehhhh.*

Quote from 50thAltOfBananer >>

*Gimme three words that I'll make a character based on for here.*

*I also may make a bard but the kid doesn't seem to have gotten any attention so ehhhh.*

*Saudade, cheerful, secretive* 

 A white dragonborn man with a flute in his mouth sits at a table, fiddling with the shredded strings of an ornate lyre.

Quote from Wes__ >>

Quote from 50thAltOfBananer >>

*Gimme three words that I'll make a character based on for here.*

*I also may make a bard but the kid doesn't seem to have gotten any attention so ehhhh.*

*Saudade, cheerful, secretive* 

 *Perfect, tysm :D will get to work.*

Quote from SturgeonMan >>

 A white dragonborn man with a flute in his mouth sits at a table, fiddling with the shredded strings of an ornate lyre.

"Oy, is that a flute, or are you [redacted, but I'm sure you can guess]?" a voice shouts. A couple of kids, dressed in varying shades of black and gray, approach the table. One, bracelets of bone wrapping around his arms, slams a fist down on the grain. "Got anything to give to some sweet, little children?" he asks mockingly.

A bard on the younger side plays a small red, orange, and gold lute, frowning down at the strings. He has curly auburn hair tied into two small braids and wears red clothing, with amber eyes. Finally getting the strings right, he starts to play and sing a song about summer.