City of Orussus, The Red Dragon Inn VIII

[Rystil Arden]

"We do, they don't."

"Well, surely they have no cause to care."

A thin and weak-looking Grey Elf clad in black robes enters the Inn...
A stout halfling appears some time after Almayce.

"We see you, Ogrin and Almayce."

 

[rln]

Caught a bit off-guard by Zaeryls comment, Ogrin jumps down from the table, muttering "Well, that was kind of the point..." while walking up to them.

"So, Zaeryl, are these fine gentlemen friends of yours?"

 

[ajanders]

Insert something witty here

Michael smiles despite himself.
"Likely not. Michael Grannion, Builder of Sela."
He puts out a wary hand to Ogrin.
"Pleased to meet you."

 

[Bront]

"Greetings Ogrin, Almace, I am Vanitri," says the somewhat colorfully dressed man. "Tis a pleasure to meet both of you."

 

[Rystil Arden]

"So, Zaeryl, are these fine gentlemen friends of yours?"

"As they say. Did you see any leads on the way back to Orussus? We are anxious to reawaken our power, and this gold of yours is quite a useful tool to acquire desirable objects."

 

[Japheth]

A boy crosses the threshold into the inn, and after a quick scan of the room he strides over to the man he spots as Joe. Leaning against the bar, he informs Joe that he is in search of work. Knowing now why this young man has entered, Joe instructs him that all must announce themselves if they wish to find employ. The boy gives him a sheepish smile. "Oh... right then."

He turns around to face those gathered about the inn, his face suddenly serious and proud. He crosses his bare arms across his leather-clad chest, lifts his chin a tad, and puffs his chest; all in an attempt to make himself more imposing than a fifteen year old human boy like himself actually is.

"I am Japheth, of Orussus. I'm -- an explorer!" He nods slightly, satisfied with that. Japheth surveys the crowd as he stands there a moment.

 

[Patlin]

Ironwolf Kinkaid, Human Psychic Warrior 2

Ironwolf throws Japheth a skeptical look.

"The work they offer here is usually pretty dangerous, boy. Are you sure this is the place you want to be looking?"

ooc: Japheth might consider taking the last space in The Trindle Market, if he happens to notice the post on the RDI's bulletin board (see above.)

 

[Japheth]

Japheth draws his shortsword, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk. He gives the sword a spin to his right side, his grip relaying that he at least can hold one properly.

"Indeed, I am looking for dangerous work." He gives the sword a small flip, catching the hilt so the sword is upside-down in his fist. The sword then proceeds to sweep in front of him, rolling the hilt over his palm and transferring the aged shortsword to his left hand, which wields it with no more difficultly than the right. A few more slashes with the left and he flips it back, up spinning into the air over his head, and catches it with his waiting right hand in front of him. (Take 10 on Sleight of Hand for the juggling)

The boy sheathes the shortsword, resting his left hand upon the hilt and his right hand on his hip. "I just hope dangerous work is looking for me."

 

[ajanders]

"Michael, Builder of Sela, healer, and bleeder-when-stuck-by-swords, so be careful, please?"
Michael looks up from his stone polishing for a moment to offer a hand to Japheth.
"You could put somebody's eye out with that thing."

 

[Rae ArdGaoth]

The tavern door swings open with a crash as a wide, stocky, well-muscled dwarf stumbles in. His tangled red hair spills over his fine breastplate armor, and his long beard is braided sloppily and flung over his shoulders. At his hips are two beautiful axes, one small and one rather large. He makes his way quickly to the bar and shouts, "Oi! Joe! Bring me an ale, mate! Ah haven' drank me a drop fer days!" The raucous dwarf receives his drink in short order. Immediately he swings the huge mug to his chapped lips and downs the whole concoction. "Oh fer the gods' sakes, mate, gimme somethin' with a bit o' kick!" Joe, not too surprised, nods and fills up the mug with another drink. A sort of hissing sound comes from the metal container. Whatever it is, the liquid is burning right through its vessel. The dwarf shouts in delight and guzzles it down. He spills a few drops onto his shaggy mane and the pungent scent of burning hair can sensed from across the room. The dwarf roars in pain/ecstacy as the drink settles in his stomach. He slams the tankard down on the bar and shouts right in Joe's face, "Nah tha's more like it, mate! Ah'll have another!" He turns to the rest of the tavern. "An' anyone who'll drink a flagon o' this Dragon's Breath with me, Rasereit Vundinn, last fightin' dwarf o' me clan, Ah'll give 'em ten gold! Any takers? Come on nah, mates!"