P
Pome
Guest
Original poster
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.
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Bio.
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.
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IC:
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?
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.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Bio.
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.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IC:
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?