forum A Tavern based in a DnD esque universe! Come on in for a pint!

Started April 19, 2023 by Mio

tune

((Lord-of-the-carnival))
Clayton lifts his head a bit higher in pleasant surprise. smiling fondly. "Yeah well, maybe if the guild hadn't made such a fuss when they found out about my lycanthropy I'd still be running errands for them. How have you been?"
"Tressach!" Ciera, the half elf telling stories on stage, exclaims ecstatically. "Gods, it's been a minute! Your first round is on me! I'll be there after I finish this last story!"
Tressach is able to spot and recognize everyone from Clayton's old party. They're all here but one. Swift Climber, the spider monkey gura, hanging from a railing; she was their rogue. Ciera Windswing, half woodelf, is the party's bard. And, Twila of Worgnest, the half orc barbarian, emerges from the stairwell carrying a tray full of empty mugs. Clayton was their paladin, a darn good one.
Twila looks up at the noise. "Well, I'll been sent to the Nine, been a while." She continues to the bar to set down her mugs.

((ScotchTapeWorm))
Trish sets a bowl of stew down in front of the new woodelf, along with two rolls and a glass of water.

"I've been pretty damn decent lately. Guild's got me workin' doubletime. New wyvern nest popped up in the north, goin' t' clear it in the next few days. After that, supposedly there's a new bastard in one of the eastern towns calling 'imself Demon Lord and causin' the Guild plenty o' trouble. Gotta beat 'is arse into a pulp right quick, and after tha' 'm off for a few weeks before they ship me off to the western islands to deal wit' the hydra infestation. Got some work cut out for me." Tressach laughs heartily.

He turns to look at Ciera and brightens. "How are ye, ol' lady! Sing me tha' one tune, the one about the dwarven lady and 'er consorts! You always did that one pretty well, back as a travelling bard wit' us!"

He looks around again, this time upwards and grins at Swift Climber. "Still jus' as prone to yer ol' climbin' haits aren' ye, Swift! I'd climb up there wit' ye, but I'm much heavier than I was nowadays, I'd bring the whole tavern down!"

Tressach brightens more - somehow - upon spotting Twila, laughing loudly once more.

"Twila! Still slappin' around rude feckers around like ye used t'?" he asks brightly, waiting for her to finish setting down the mugs before giving her a bone-crushing hug.

((Lord-of-the-carnival I meant to ask, but is Iren homebrew? Because I love her and would love to know more.))
"Alright, alright!" Ciera responds, "Not quite appropriate, but I don't see any kids in the audience either. Clayton?"
"Go for it! But, just the one; I have other performers on my list."
She grins, putting her notes away and pulling out a drum. She starts the rhythm, humming before starting the rhyme.
Twila's back cracks. "Gah, I've been trying to get that since clearing those baby gelatinous cubes two weeks back." She pats his shoulders. "Yeah, me and the girls are taking the week off to visit Clayton. Couldn't convince Harold."
Tressach would remember Harold Gensa being their tabaxi wizard; he's not very sociable but always got along with the group well. Though it's as if on queue, there's a poof of smoke and a long yawn, as the orange tabby cat suddenly teleports in. "First of all-" He says still yawning. "I never said no. I said I was busy. Second, I've been here the whole time technically."
"I thought I sensed your scrying." Swift squints at him, walking across the rafters to the group.
"Sorry Swift, but I had to have a target."
"You're lucky I chose to not even fight it."
"Not that you could of." He looks to Clayton, smiling. "How have you been?"
"Good." Clayton looks pleasantly surprised by Harold's arrival.
He nods, changing to Tressach. "And, you?"

(lol, she's a pigmy goblin- i can send the info via PMs once i get her a proper homebrew page)

Tressach laughs uproariously. "Why should there be? 'ts a tavern! They wouldn' even be able to step foot in 'ere before Clayton shoo'd 'em out!"

"Agh, little buggers are always a pain in me arse." he chuckles, letting go of Twila. "Greatshields don' do much against 'em."

He grins. "An' the little cat couldn' handle takin' a step back. Likes the adventure too much, doesn' 'e?."

"An' speak o' the devil! I've been pretty decent, cat. What abou' yew, Harold? Been gettin' sleep? Food?" he asks, clapping the tiny tabaxi on his back.

((Lord-of-the-carnival Absolutely, please! Though, no rush, things take time to get them how you want.))
Harold is jostled by it, but otherwise unphased. "Been researching. I tried to take a week off just like them, but the guild was all 'You're going to be home for a bit then?' and dropped a baby ooze in my lap. They didn't even tell me what kind; they didn't even know. The thing was the size of a cream scoop when I got it, and translucent orange. Said they found it in the main guild house's kitchen and they shipped it all the way to ours' house for me to study. It's pseudo dragon sized now; I've only had it four days. I think it's made of orange marmalade? In which case, someone with wild magic must've walked thru their kitchen."
"In other words, the answers to eat or sleep are both no?" Swift interjects.
Harold overly nods for emphasis.
"Wait, can you leave something like that unattended?" Twila asks.
He sighs, opening his satchel on his hip. He pulls out a rather large jar with hundreds of holes as tiny as he could manage in the lid. In it, filling it half full, is what could perfectly well be mistaken for orange preserves. "The trick was drilling holes too small for it to squeeze thru so it could still breathe."

((Isabel))

The wood elf paused, utterly consumed by the smell of the food for a moment, he couldn't smell any kind of addition that shouldn't be there and a tiny taste didn't reveal any obvious poisons, so it was probably safe. Satisfied with his food, he pushed some money onto the counter absently.

He kept one eye on the conversation of the beings around him, she was silently fascinated by the different variations, the colorings, voice patterns, and movements, but that wasn't the point right now. She tried to memorize the faces anyways. The wood elf dug into the food, making a conscious effort to actually taste, rolling the spoon over his tongue. It was good, not watered down, and good chunks of meat in it, where lesser taverns would try to keep it full of stock and vegetables. He could even taste the kind of bones used to make the base broth, which made him happy.

There seemed to be a reunion of sorts going on, which he wasn't too bothered about. Everyone seemed happy, there were stories going on and he tried to grab at snatches of them for later, he just absorbed the information, not thinking about it or processing the words, but absorbing it nonetheless.

He supposed his attention should be on the half orc, Twila, the barkeep had sort of mentioned that might be the one to talk to about purchases. The wood elf removed the spoon from his mouth, tapping it against the side of his bowl in thought, but she couldn't help but be interested in the orange jar. God, what kind of creature could that even be? What would it taste like? The food? Or would it taste more organic, with the magic keeping it alive? Without bones would it.. Hm. No, she shouldn't get too distracted.

The wood elf poked his coinpurse again, she wasn't very good with numbers like this, and didn't have much experience in the specific field she was looking to buy into, but something could be arranged.

"Tha' is definitely orange meringue Ah'll say tha' much for sure." Tressach chuckles. "Am Ah allowed to touch it?"

((ScotchTapeWorm))
At the clinks of the coin on the counter, Clayton pulls away from the conversation. He converts the coin into their change, pushing it back towards the woodelf. He shoots them a smile, noticing their eyes move between his friends. His nose scrunches when he smiles… "Twila, over here." He waves her over.
"Gah, right, you had a questtion." She approaches and leans on the counter across from him.
"Places with things that a harder to find or not commonly sold?" He taps his fingers on the counter, first the index then the rest at the same time on repeat.
Her head tilts slightly, before she sighs heavily. "Depends on what you wantto buy. There's a really good oddities shop in town. It's called Sckrunkly's Junkities. It's ran by a gnome, small even by their standards. He's out of his mind but seems nice enough. Still that's more just really strange and obscure items, closer to an antique shop really. What are yoou looking for roughly? Different shops specialize in different things; we can try to narrow your search."

((Lord-of-the-carnival))
Harold sighs, smiling. "How did I know you'd ask?" He opens the jar, holding it foreward.
Swift drops from the cieling, landing on Tressach's shoulder, she leans, trying to look at the ooze closer without getting much closer.

Tressach laughs. "Ah'm no' a fockin coward is how."

He slides a finger into the jar and prods the creature. "Feels like. . . syrup. Very living syrup."

((Isabel))
The wood elf scooped up his change in one fluid motion, pushing it back into his coinpurse. He gave his best smile to the half orc when she approached, letting his attention settle squarely on her. She'd always liked the tusks on orcs, took extra time to get just right, but it really helped sell the look.

He snorted at the name of the oddities store, couldn't argue with a good rhyme when he saw it though. When asked to specify however, the wood elf started to play with his fingers in a rapid motion, seeming to think it through.

"Aha. Welllll. Antique's are nice, lovely really, but very much not what I'm looking for. I was hoping to find a place to buy more.. Organic oddities?" He grimaced, what an odd way to phrase that. Well he couldn't outright say she was looking for bones could she? … Could she?

"Sounds strange, but I'm looking to buy bones? Specifically I'm looking for some kind of pixie corpse, preferably fresh, but old would do as well." A long pause, she continued to inspect the half orc. "Speaking of- If you're interested I could put a downpayment on your skull for after you die?"

To be honest she wasn't quite sure how well this would go, but- She shrugged, screw it. Squinting her eyes in focus, the wood elf's face shifted into that of a young human woman, hair darkening, eyes getting wider. There were a few uncomfortable pop sounds as she lost a few inches in height as well, eugh, she always hated that part.

((Lord-of-the-carnival))
The ooze in the jar lifts around Tressach's hand, curious and slow. Other then a light pins and needles feeling, there's no real pain and seemingly no danger. It releases his hand but creates ripples and small sloshes around it.
Harold laughs. "To be fair, I don't think there's anything dangerous about it. At least not towards us. It's tacky but not supper sticky, so I've had to mop the floors regularly. I would say, from my study so far, that there is something there, maybe it's poisnonus or has a paralysis toxin or something. All I really know is that the number of mice in my tower has gone down drastically."

((ScootchTapeWorm))
Clayton smiles more softly, stopping the tap of his fingers. "I thought something was off. The woodelf veil was pretty convincing, but didn't quite smell quite right."
"I'll never get used to seeing things like that." Twila responds, looking pleasantly surprised though not entirely caught off guard. "Super cool though. I'm gonna have to pass on the downpayment though. Kind of want to be cremated and my ashes turned to a gem. Have it put in my great axe and passed on to someone so I can still taste combat." The excitement her face twists into as she explains is a little unnerving, which she seems to realize quickly reverting back to her default tired and serious expression. She clears her throat. "Anyways-"
"Holy crap! How'd you do that?" The half elf from the stage leans across the bartop on the otherside of the collector, practically laying on it. "True Polymorph??" Her eyes sparkle curiously.
Clayton sighs. His perception has always been the highest of the party's, especially with the sense of smell his lycanthropy gives him. Twila wouldn't even have noticed if he hadn't signalled. "Ciera."
"Yes?" Clayton repeats the same tapping motion as before a couple of times. "Oh. Oh!" Her attention snaps back to the collector. "That's even cooler! What kind are you?" There's a joint sigh from both her friends present. "Ah, sorry. That's kind of a personal question, isn't it?" Her expression becomes sheepish.
"Anyways," Twila tries to start again. "For something like you're looking for you'd probably be better off joining the guild, picking up a quest, and calling dibs on it. I mean, there are pixie clearing quests pretty regularly. Fairy circles are easy for them to make, and they love causing chaos. But, pixie wings and dust are apparently really good for certain potions, so they're always being claimed. I'm trying to think if there's any shop that would have dibs on something like that from the guild. Sorry, I'm not as familiar with the potion shops; give me a second to wrack my brain."

The drow at the end of the bar rises. He sets his instrument case on the counter and then drapes his cloak over the stool. He sets his satchel on the floor as well. He wears a white shirt with long poofy sleeves over black pants. There's a holy symbol on a silver chain which hangs from his neck, a sword within a moon's silhouette. It almost glows, shimmering as if it's made of moonlight itself. He takes care as he removes his viol from its case and tunes it. When he's done, he gently waves for Clayton's attention. "My turn, yes?"
Clayton lifts his attention for a moment. "Yeah, sorry Ciera took so long. Go on up there." He gives an encouraging smile.
The drow returns a soft smile, before nodding and approaching the stage. He starts his song choosing a slower piece. He spins gentle and dances slowly to the song. His eyes are closed as if he's reliving a dream. It's graceful and elegant. It's a subtle surprise when his voice joins the mix.
"Emotions are high, you all know why
The emotions run up through the sky
They reach up through the clouds
An army of the Spider Queen,
The loss of good men to set the scene
A race so awful, so cruel, so mean
I know it well, the Drow
A boiling hate, you may have made it your fate
I know too well that I am too late
But, please won't you aim it at me
I'll gladly play the bad guy
So step right up, don't be shy
And, if you ever ask why
Know I follow Eilistraee
Dear Eilistraee, hear my plea
Bless each gent and lady I see
With freedom and joy, please let them be
Give them the gifts which you have taught me
For there's hope yet, it's not the end
Look to the guilds for the hand they lend
For every plea, a quest will begin
And, soon I'll be a part of them
So, if you're really so hurt that you hate
Please leave the rest of them alone
I'll carry your hatred all on my own."