The Tavern of Second Chances

Quote from 50thAltOfBananer >>

Quote from Gonzalo3 >>

Quote from Gonzalo3 >>

The clear note of a bell rings through the tavern as the door opens, and in walks a young woman, who looks to be around 20 years of age. She's holding a various collection of notebooks and what appear to be biology textbooks under her arm, with the other arm holding the door open. She closes it behind her, and walks up to the bar, setting an overflowing backpack down on the floor next to her stool. She sets the various books down on the table, and begins flipping through them, hastily jotting things down in her notebooks. Regulars at the tavern would know this to be Elanor, a university student at a school of magic. She regularly visits the tavern in order to gain information for her dissertation, as the tavern holds all sorts of magical and scientific phenomena she is eager to report to her professors. At least, that's what she tells anyone if they ask. But, the more observant of tavern goers occasionally notice her eyes swelled up and puffy when she enters, as if recently crying, or a large bruise covering one of her arms, or similar markings, before being masked over with an illusion. At least, they think they do. It's hard to tell, really. It's probably just nothing.

 A yell and a crash sounds outside of the tavern as the earth quakes from a hard landing. A tall figure lands on the grass on their back, their blonde hair a complete mess, their wings fluffed up. Their steel armor, an eye carved into the center, is covered with blood, and the spear they carry is also bloodstained. A fresh wound shuts their right eye closed, and they take in a deep breath, yelling up at the air again. 

"(GP)!" Elanor runs out of the tavern, grabbing a couple textbooks at random, and rushes over to the stranger.

"Listen, everything is going to be okay. You're safe here! Don't worry. The Tavern should begin healing you naturally, so you should be fine. Just in case, I'm sure I have a healing spell that could help you..."

Quote from Gonzalo3 >>

Quote from 50thAltOfBananer >>

Quote from Gonzalo3 >>

Quote from Gonzalo3 >>

The clear note of a bell rings through the tavern as the door opens, and in walks a young woman, who looks to be around 20 years of age. She's holding a various collection of notebooks and what appear to be biology textbooks under her arm, with the other arm holding the door open. She closes it behind her, and walks up to the bar, setting an overflowing backpack down on the floor next to her stool. She sets the various books down on the table, and begins flipping through them, hastily jotting things down in her notebooks. Regulars at the tavern would know this to be Elanor, a university student at a school of magic. She regularly visits the tavern in order to gain information for her dissertation, as the tavern holds all sorts of magical and scientific phenomena she is eager to report to her professors. At least, that's what she tells anyone if they ask. But, the more observant of tavern goers occasionally notice her eyes swelled up and puffy when she enters, as if recently crying, or a large bruise covering one of her arms, or similar markings, before being masked over with an illusion. At least, they think they do. It's hard to tell, really. It's probably just nothing.

 A yell and a crash sounds outside of the tavern as the earth quakes from a hard landing. A tall figure lands on the grass on their back, their blonde hair a complete mess, their wings fluffed up. Their steel armor, an eye carved into the center, is covered with blood, and the spear they carry is also bloodstained. A fresh wound shuts their right eye closed, and they take in a deep breath, yelling up at the air again. 

"(GP)!" Elanor runs out of the tavern, grabbing a couple textbooks at random, and rushes over to the stranger.

"Listen, everything is going to be okay. You're safe here! Don't worry. The Tavern should begin healing you naturally, so you should be fine. Just in case, I'm sure I have a healing spell that could help you..."

 “Get away!” They yell. “Did they send you? W-where am I?”

Quote from 50thAltOfBananer >>

Quote from Gonzalo3 >>

Quote from 50thAltOfBananer >>

Quote from Gonzalo3 >>

Quote from Gonzalo3 >>

The clear note of a bell rings through the tavern as the door opens, and in walks a young woman, who looks to be around 20 years of age. She's holding a various collection of notebooks and what appear to be biology textbooks under her arm, with the other arm holding the door open. She closes it behind her, and walks up to the bar, setting an overflowing backpack down on the floor next to her stool. She sets the various books down on the table, and begins flipping through them, hastily jotting things down in her notebooks. Regulars at the tavern would know this to be Elanor, a university student at a school of magic. She regularly visits the tavern in order to gain information for her dissertation, as the tavern holds all sorts of magical and scientific phenomena she is eager to report to her professors. At least, that's what she tells anyone if they ask. But, the more observant of tavern goers occasionally notice her eyes swelled up and puffy when she enters, as if recently crying, or a large bruise covering one of her arms, or similar markings, before being masked over with an illusion. At least, they think they do. It's hard to tell, really. It's probably just nothing.

 A yell and a crash sounds outside of the tavern as the earth quakes from a hard landing. A tall figure lands on the grass on their back, their blonde hair a complete mess, their wings fluffed up. Their steel armor, an eye carved into the center, is covered with blood, and the spear they carry is also bloodstained. A fresh wound shuts their right eye closed, and they take in a deep breath, yelling up at the air again. 

"(GP)!" Elanor runs out of the tavern, grabbing a couple textbooks at random, and rushes over to the stranger.

"Listen, everything is going to be okay. You're safe here! Don't worry. The Tavern should begin healing you naturally, so you should be fine. Just in case, I'm sure I have a healing spell that could help you..."

 “Get away!” They yell. “Did they send you? W-where am I?”

"Oh! My name is Elanor. I wasn't sent here by anybody, and I really don't know who you mean by 'they'. And, you're in the Tavern of Second Chances!"

Yejide runs outside with blackrazor drawn and says “who are you and what do you want!”

Quote from Sablemeerkat676 >>

Yejide runs outside with blackrazor drawn and says “who are you and what do you want!”

Elanor sighs. "Put the sword away. Please. It can't do anything here, and weapons tend to increase the probability of someone activating acute stress responses, which helps no one, really."

They squeeze their eyes shut, taking a deep breath, and then they suddenly break into tears.

Quote from 50thAltOfBananer >>

They squeeze their eyes shut, taking a deep breath, and then they suddenly break into tears.

"Oh- no no no! It's alright! Don't cry... Actually, no, that's bad advice, don't listen to me, crying is good, cry all you want." She squats down to pat their back awkwardly.

Quote from Gonzalo3 >>

Quote from Sablemeerkat676 >>

Yejide runs outside with blackrazor drawn and says “who are you and what do you want!”

Elanor sighs. "Put the sword away. Please. It can't do anything here, and weapons tend to increase the probability of someone activating acute stress responses, which helps no one, really."

 Yejide sighs “fine if you think that’s best”

Quote from Sablemeerkat676 >>

Quote from Gonzalo3 >>

Quote from Sablemeerkat676 >>

Yejide runs outside with blackrazor drawn and says “who are you and what do you want!”

Elanor sighs. "Put the sword away. Please. It can't do anything here, and weapons tend to increase the probability of someone activating acute stress responses, which helps no one, really."

 Yejide sighs “fine if you think that’s best”

"Of course I think it's best."

Yejide crosses his arms “I’m just a little suspicious of this guy.”

Quote from Sablemeerkat676 >>

Yejide crosses his arms “I’m just a little suspicious of this guy.”

 "There's no reason to. Being suspicious of people you don't know is dumb. They're just a bit overwhelmed from something."

“I’m naturally suspicious of everybody”

They look up, their good eye wide as blood drips down from the mark on their right eye. “G-get me back there… need to defend them…”

Quote from Sablemeerkat676 >>

“I’m naturally suspicious of everybody”

"Doesn't make it any less stupid."

Quote from 50thAltOfBananer >>

They look up, their good eye wide as blood drips down from the mark on their right eye. “G-get me back there… need to defend them…”

"Defend who...?"

Quote from 50thAltOfBananer >>

Quote from Wes__ >>

Quote from 50thAltOfBananer >>

Quote from Wes__ >>

Quote from 50thAltOfBananer >>

Quote from Wes__ >>

*Oh, man, it's here! I now have a place for all my lost OC souls that deserve homes (in the tavern's basement, of course, in very small pint glasses...).*

A tall, finely-dressed man stalks the perimeter of the tavern, vulture-like in his slink as he observes whatever revelry is happening on the inside. He has a unnervingly cunning look to him----his features are fox-like----thin-nosed, a slight grin peeling up towards small wisps of orangeish hair. He wears a small hat that covers most of his bush of slick, dark, and strangely curly hair, which blatantly juxtaposes itself with the chalk-white color of his face. He strolls around for several minutes, then finds the nearest empty seat and sinks himself down, brusquely rapping his nails upon the wood for a drink.

"Order?" he calls loudly, in an accent not so distinct from a goodfella. "I'd love a drink, if you please."

This guy but a bit creepier

 A wooden mug floats through the air and sets itself in front of him, with orange liquid inside of it. 

"Ugh. Orange?" He sneers at the drink, then pushes it away. "I only take my drinks blue and cold, thank you." 

 The cup tips over in his hand, spilling hot orange liquid all over it. Seems the tavern has a strange sense of humor. 

He lets out a scalding, high-pitched scream as the liquid begins to bubble on his hand. "Aah! Help!" His eyes snap shut as he tries to block out the pain, but his hand begins to...melt? Small scales appear underneath his skin for a split second, and then the liquid disappears and all is back to normal, his hand unblemished as he looks around at those staring. 

"Who're you all looking at, punks?"

 He hears a chuckle from the entrance, as Emrys leans against the door, laughing.

He continues to make a scene---- "What're you laughing at? Was that funny? I could've burned my hand off!" 

Quote from Gonzalo3 >>

Quote from 50thAltOfBananer >>

They look up, their good eye wide as blood drips down from the mark on their right eye. “G-get me back there… need to defend them…”

"Defend who...?"

 Blood mixes with spit, snot, and tears on the ground, and they huff. “I-they’re never coming back, are they?”

Quote from Wes__ >>

Quote from 50thAltOfBananer >>

Quote from Wes__ >>

Quote from 50thAltOfBananer >>

Quote from Wes__ >>

Quote from 50thAltOfBananer >>

Quote from Wes__ >>

*Oh, man, it's here! I now have a place for all my lost OC souls that deserve homes (in the tavern's basement, of course, in very small pint glasses...).*

A tall, finely-dressed man stalks the perimeter of the tavern, vulture-like in his slink as he observes whatever revelry is happening on the inside. He has a unnervingly cunning look to him----his features are fox-like----thin-nosed, a slight grin peeling up towards small wisps of orangeish hair. He wears a small hat that covers most of his bush of slick, dark, and strangely curly hair, which blatantly juxtaposes itself with the chalk-white color of his face. He strolls around for several minutes, then finds the nearest empty seat and sinks himself down, brusquely rapping his nails upon the wood for a drink.

"Order?" he calls loudly, in an accent not so distinct from a goodfella. "I'd love a drink, if you please."

This guy but a bit creepier

 A wooden mug floats through the air and sets itself in front of him, with orange liquid inside of it. 

"Ugh. Orange?" He sneers at the drink, then pushes it away. "I only take my drinks blue and cold, thank you." 

 The cup tips over in his hand, spilling hot orange liquid all over it. Seems the tavern has a strange sense of humor. 

He lets out a scalding, high-pitched scream as the liquid begins to bubble on his hand. "Aah! Help!" His eyes snap shut as he tries to block out the pain, but his hand begins to...melt? Small scales appear underneath his skin for a split second, and then the liquid disappears and all is back to normal, his hand unblemished as he looks around at those staring. 

"Who're you all looking at, punks?"

 He hears a chuckle from the entrance, as Emrys leans against the door, laughing.

He continues to make a scene---- "What're you laughing at? Was that funny? I could've burned my hand off!" 

 “Usually, hot liquid doesn’t set you on fire. It just hurts a bit. What, are you scared of a little pain?”

Quote from 50thAltOfBananer >>

Quote from Gonzalo3 >>

Quote from 50thAltOfBananer >>

They look up, their good eye wide as blood drips down from the mark on their right eye. “G-get me back there… need to defend them…”

"Defend who...?"

 Blood mixes with spit, snot, and tears on the ground, and they huff. “I-they’re never coming back, are they?”

"Listen, I don't know who you're talking about... I can help you, but I'm going to have to move you a bit... Can you walk?"

Quote from Gonzalo3 >>

Quote from 50thAltOfBananer >>

Quote from Gonzalo3 >>

Quote from 50thAltOfBananer >>

They look up, their good eye wide as blood drips down from the mark on their right eye. “G-get me back there… need to defend them…”

"Defend who...?"

 Blood mixes with spit, snot, and tears on the ground, and they huff. “I-they’re never coming back, are they?”

"Listen, I don't know who you're talking about... I can help you, but I'm going to have to move you a bit... Can you walk?"

 They nod. “Don’t… don’t want to walk, though.”