The Old Tavern

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Pome, Jan 10, 2014.

Thread Status:
Not open for further replies.
  1. In the center of Thythos, the smallest village near Bemerdon, there was an old tavern. There was always a lot of people since the road that came from the south and ended in the capital went right trough the village.

    It was a simple place, a few wooden tables, a few barrels of fine mead and a stand where the Tavern Keeper would stay and have a look at the place.

    Old Crancky Joe, he never looked cranky, but the nickname is older than anyone's memory.

    The one who did all the work was Old Joe's daugther, Joly, she would serve the customers as her father looked and laughed from his place.

    Is not a big place, but it's a nice place.

    It is a place where heroes drank they're last cup of mead, and ate they're last piece of bread, before going to incredible adventures, or so the old mand says.

    All Joe always ask is: If you need to kill a man for a fight to end, please, do it outside.

    Welcome the the Old Tavern, sit, have a drink, and share some of your stories with us, i'm sure you might even be in one of our famous tales one day.

    OOC: I'll be playing Old Joe so feel free to drink and talk with him, he loves to hear a tale.

    Name: Old Joe.

    Age: 46

    Appearence: A man of a certain age, wearing a large white shirt, stained by the time it exists. He's growing short on hair, and large in belly, and even though he looks out of shape, you can still see that he has strong arms and could proably put up a unarmed fight.

    Story: Born and raised in the village, never wandered too far from it. The Tavern is in the family for a few generations and one day his daugther will take up his place. His wife died of a disease a few years ago, so work, drunks and a child of 16 is all that he has now.



    As it is in a usual night, Joe had a wooden cup in a hand and a old scrap of fabric in the other.
    He "cleaned" the cup as he looked at his customers. Same old drunks as usual, but now the sun is setting, and is usually then that interesting people come in. Tired travellers, sunburnt workers and maybe even some fine singer to cheer the crowd a little bit.
    He's been doing this for a life, and everyday of it, he was surprised.

    Dropped the cup on his table and leaned foward, elbow in the table and face in hand.

    What the god's had prepared for him tonight?
  2. [​IMG]
    Name: Aria Winfred
    Age: 26
    Back Story: She grew up learning how to fight from when she was a young girl. Her father didn't have any sons, only daughters, so he trained his eldest to fight while her mother had the youngest do normal women things. It was the life she loved, and she was glad to be raised that way. When she turned 18, she became a member of the King's guard. Her mission now was to find something that will help the kingdom with their wealth, and hopefully she will be able to do her kingdom some good.

    In Character:

    Aria let out a small sigh as she walked down the road, exhausted as she traveled for two days straight without stopping. She preferred to travel by foot, even if she was allowed to have a horse. When she traveled on foot, she could track easier and be more with nature. Her mouth became dry, and the water she had in her pouched did not even satisfy her any longer. Her eyes gazed up upon a tavern, and she grinned with satisfaction. The hood of her cloak was over head, concealing most of her face, and she walked in the tavern, heading to the bar. "Bartender, may I acquire some ale?" she questioned, "I traveled far from Arundul and I wish to rest for awhile."
  3. Knight (open)

    Man (open)

    Name: Celthric Rivtdale
    Age: 29
    Bio: A mercenary from the far lands of Ironrock. He wears strange armor, but a very common accent. The rest shall be roleplayed......


    Celthric wrapped his horses lead around a fence post. He slid his helmet off and held it onto his left said, and his right hand gripped his halberd to his right. He walked in threw the door and made his way to the bar, receiving several strange looks from the drunks. He leaned against the bar next to a young woman, laying his helmet on the bar unwrapped the torn cloth around his forearm, and saw laid the bloody cloth onto the bar aswell, and as the bartender neared he called out "Do you know where a healer of sorts is? I can pay for the information if needed." He unhooked a bag of coins from his belt and laid it on the counter.
  4. Character Profile (open)
    Name: Belem Orithess
    Age: 32
    Appearance: Belem is a small woman, dressed in dark leather armor, buckles attached to pouches, and no visible weapons. She has the look of a worn adventurer -- exhausted, dirty, but enthused for the next round. Small lines are starting to etch her face, white wisps against black hair. She is usually seen smiling or laughing, never resting for too long, always moving.
    Story: Despite her enthusiastic nature, Belem has a bit of an issue with sticky fingers. Items disappear and then reappear somewhere on her person. Oops. Now she is on her own.

    "That gem wasn't that big," Belem said, wet boots crunching against the beaten path, "and they didn't have to call the guards." The wind replied with a chilling howl, brushing the cloak behind her. "All right! You don't have to turn so cold. The lake was cold enough." She grumbled, smoothing out the material as a glint of light flickered into view.

    "A tavern!" Belem ran until her feet touched the entrance. She took in the warmth with a shiver of delight before her head turned instinctively towards the sound of clanking coin.
  5. blackdude1.jpg
    Name: Aragón raidz
    Bio: Aragón is one of the worlds most skilled warriors and feared assassins. He trained with his father and brother in combat since he was a child. When he was 15 his family was killed, and he has spent most of his life hunting those who had anything to do with his family's downfall.

    Aragón sat alone with his hood pulled over his head head, casting a shadow over his face. He stared down at the drink he had ordered but not yet touched. He had been consumed in his thoughts. His hunt for one of his family's attackers was starting to take a bad turn. He hadn't lost the trail but it was getting much more vague. He finally lifted the glass to his lips and let the cool liquid send a burning sensation down his chest and stomach
  6. Joe aproached the strangers who got into the place. The woman looked tired, and the man looked in a bad shape.
    As he served a cup of ale, in a deep tone he filled the silence in the tavern. "You will find plenty of ale arround here, as for rest, i don't think this is place for a lady, but for what i can see, you can take care of yourself."

    He turned to the man, upset with the fact that he didn't had the information he needed. Afterall, a few coins are always handy.
    He called out. "As for you, all i have is Ale to numb the pain, and maybe some brandy to clean your wounds.".
    One only needs a healer if there is people willing to hurt him, so with e heavy look Joe inquired.
    "I don't mind how you got wounded, but i'd like to know wether the one who did this is still looking for you. Had enough trouble in this place for a lifetime."
  7. Celthric grunt with satisfaction, and said in a hearty tone, "Then I shall pay for a bottle of your finest of ale, and a small amount of brandy of course!" He followed up with saying "On the contrary I am the one looking for him! I got this wound from a hunting accident just last night. Me and my group went searching for our prey, a group of bandits scourging the country side, and I wasnt paying good enough attention, and one of the bastards shot straight threw my spare shield!"
  8. Joe had a laugh and a relieved sigh, couldn't be too sure about something these days.
    "Well, i hope you get him then." Old Joe said as he pulled a bottle of ale from under his table. "Finest ale you'll get arround here." He said proudly, and then went to the back room and came back with a small leather water purse.

    "Here's the brandy. It will hurt when you pour in your arm, but it's better than nothing. This could get your arm good enough for at least reach the capital. There you will easily find someone trained in the arts of healing. For that i will charge you 3 silvers. No refounds if you loose your arm."

    He supported himself in his table and gazed upon the small folk he had there and shouted.

    "Anyone needs anything? Stop waisting my time and put some coins on my purse."
  9. "Gods, yes!" Belem called across the room to Joe before she walked over to the counter, leaving a trail of puddles. The leather was getting to the point of uncomfortable. "As you can see, I'm a little drenched." She dug out what coin she had left and proffered it to the barman. "A hot meal and seat by a warm hearth." As an afterthought, she added the word "please"...she wasn't completely absent on manners.
  10. Aragón walked over to the wounded man and sat across from him. If a man like him could be wounded by a group of bandits, then they must be vary skilled. It wasn't much to go off of, but maybe they could offer information that would aid his hunt. "Hello, my name is Aragón. I hear you were hunting bandits on the country side. Do you know where they might be now?"
  11. Joe quickly snatched the coin and threw it inside his pocket.
    "A hot meal and a seat it is."

    He looked over his shoulder and yelled once again. "Joly, bring bread and soup to the Lady."

    He looked back to the woman and said with a laugh while pointing the closest seat to the heart fire that was burning in the Tavern.
    "Well, there it is your seat. In any case, the drunks might be there to give you a hard time. Feel free to kick them out. You look like you've been in some trouble, you are drenched, and i don't recall any storm in the last hours. Mind sharing the tale?"

    Joe picked up a cup of ale to himself, and waited for his daugther to bring the food the girl asked.
  12. Checking threw the pouch, he took four silver coins out and stashed them in a separate bag attached to his belt. He slid the coin pouch across the counter, and said " Theres your coin my good man!"

    Turning to the shady hooded figure he looked him over. It was strange that a man like him would be looking for some bandits "probably a new bounty hunter" he said in his mind. He gripped his halberd tightly and said in a slightly rude voice "No offence lad, but those bandits are mine for the bounty, and im not about to reveal their location to someone who could take the kill from me!"
  13. "I don't intend to do that at all. I simply need information they may have. They may help me find the person responsibile for my family's death. As far as their lives, the kill is all yours." Aragón removed his hood letting the man see his face. "I'm not a bounty hunter, I don't seek a bounty. I am an assassin, I seek justice"
  14. Belem chuckled at the man's jovial nature and then nodded. "You could say that." She sat down on a nearby stool, dropping her pack to the floor. "I had a job in the north -- a simple assignment. Find information on --," she paused and shook her head, "the name is not important -- but I had to find the location where he held, well, a certain item. I didn't find what I was looking for, but I discovered the most beautiful, gorgeous, lavish gem. It was so shiny and sitting so innocently on the shelf." Belem said breathlessly, a dreamy look in her eyes. "It just happened to find its way into my bag." She grinned and shrugged. "To escape -- with no gem, I might add -- I made an exit across a lake and made my way to your lovely establishment."
  15. Celthric grunted thinking and finally he shook his head "Not really familiar with assassins, but I dont believe most dont seek justice. I will tell you where these men will be heading, but I warn you If I reach them before you, You'd have to speak to their graves. These men should be headed towards the lands known as Arundul (hope you dont mind if I use your land Princess)."
  16. Show Spoiler
    Name: Milllicent

    Age: 26

    Appearance: Her tall and muscular frame is hidden behind lightly tattered tunic and pants, along with worn boots and a brand-new capelet. Her strawberry blond hair is braided around her head and her grey eyes always seem to be on the lookout for the next valuable to steal.

    Story: Millicent is a well-known thief amongst the criminals of Bermerdon, but only because she constantly bungles her thefts in some way. She does succeed often enough that she's not too discouraged to continue, but she has to rely on what others give her in exchange for information or errands, which she somehow manages to complete more successfully.

    Millicent was eating some bread alone, thinking about what had gone wrong in her last heist. She knew she should have been more vigilant about her surroundings, but she didn't think she'd be that surprised. In her defense, she had heard some odd shuffling sounds that she'd attributed to a cat, and while she was right, she didn't think it would actually jump at her. Next time, she told herself, she would look carefully for anything that could make her yell that loudly and wake others up.

    As she contemplated a second cup of ale, her ears perked up at the nearby mention of a gem. She leaned over enough to hear but not be noticed, then got up and scooted over to the older woman.

    "Ooh, that sounds like a very interesting story you're giving, there. Oh, right, sorry for suddenly interrupting you two," she excitedly said as she took an unoccupied stool, "but why would you just leave something so valuable? Unless it got lost in the lake, I guess, which sounds like... someone I know."
  17. Belem flashed the woman a toothy smile, making a downward motion with her hand. "Right to the bottom. Kind of hard to search while there are arrows flying passed your head." And then, with a sudden thought, she gave the woman a curious glance. "Plan on going back as soon as I can." She said, making a point to emphasize the last sentence and laying claim to her treasure.
  18. Millicent, pretending to not have noticed the implications, opened her eyes wide in anticipation. "That sounds fun! Although," she noted as she held her chin in her hand, "at the bottom of a lake, that's really deep. You sure you'll get it by yourself?"
  19. the woman had a point, but the reluctance of sharing her gem was obvious by her expression. With a curious glance, and Belem biting her lip, she weighed the option. She blew a frustrated puff of air between her puckered lips. "Are you suggesting something?" She asked, hating to ask. It was such a pretty gem.
  20. Wit's Profile (open)

    Name: Wit

    Job: To annoy the hell out of people and point out the truth in things. Also, he's a storyteller, known as a Worldsinger among his people. Not many are to his liking, but the same can be said about him to everyone else.


    After a narrowly escaping from a group of angry mobs, Wit finally found himself in front of an old tavern. The world has lost its wits, he thought as he skipped past the tavern, wondering if he should stay or continue on his way. After all, he was somewhat well equipped for his journey; his black cape, his clothes, a wooden sword, a mandolin strapped to his back, and a black flute that was tucked away in the folds of his clothes.


    Or, at least he thought he was.

    "Being mortals have its limits, I guess," Wit pondered, "Rush and rush and rush, but stop the flow for a moment, and everything crumbles. Oh jolly, hunger!"

    He walked backwards to the tavern door and sauntered right in. The moment the door closed behind him, Wit suddenly broke into a skip, humming a simple tune as he made his way to the counter.

    "Being hungry is the worst thing that could happen to someone like me," he lamented, feigning despair as he collapsed over the counter, "And who could I possibly blame? It certainly can't be you, good ol' tavern keeper, and 'tis definitely not your odd patrons! No, heavens no, it's my belly!" Wit turned around to look at the rest of the people in the tavern, "And here, before my audience! Tch tch tch, shame on you, belly of mine, shame,"

    He skipped away from the counter and moved to the centre of the tavern, "And here we have quite a motley crew of strange beings!" he pointed to the injured soldier at the counter, "We have one fresh from battle! Wounds and all, but none too mortal!"

    and he turned to the lady in white hair, "And we have Lady Perfect and Dutiful, but not the Lady that she was born as,"

    then he skipped over to a shady-looking man dressed in all black, "Oho! A man who dwells in the shadow, thinking he can find justice in such dark places. Tch tch, warped thoughts, good friend,"

    Wit did a flip and landed on the table of a woman, who had just placed her bags on the floor; "And what's this? I see sticky fingers written all over your eyes, my lady!" and he turned to another woman, "Make that two! Two sticky fingers; one who can't control it, and another who made a career out of it! Amusing!"

    And finally, after all that, he shimmied back to the counter, where the tavern keeper was at; "And...well, food! Something good and warm for Wit's hungry belly now, could you?"
Thread Status:
Not open for further replies.