Fantasy Adventurers of the Red Snapper Inn (Always taking new patrons)

[shadowz1995]

"Monster? Oh but I'm hurt dear Barkeep. I thought we had a beautiful budding friendship coming along but your words wound me so!" Desh lets out a short laugh before pulling up his hood again and turning his head to speak to Sevar once more. "Eesh, so much anger. So much irritation. That drives the ladies away you know? Hahaha! I have for a long time friend. If you don't have a sense of humor, life becomes far too dull. Besides I'm not at your back. I'm beside you. I don't intend to follow a complete stranger into a battle. But I don't mind fighting next to you." The vampire cant help but openly grin now at how jumpy everyone was. Especially when it was such a relaxed atmosphere before. Did people on this side of the world truly despise vampires this badly? Vampires were sentient beings after all. Every choice they make is a conscious one. Granted, most of the time those "conscious choices" are not good ones and vampires get a really bad renown because of it. The whole "Feeding on humans/humanoids" aspect doesn't help either.

 

[Foxgirl Jay]

The halfling crosses his arms with a frown. "Enough. Your unholy charisma won't work on me, and that you tried to convince me other wise makes the choice easier. I've read and heard about many 'a tales of people who foolishly trusted a vampire." He's adamant on this point. Certain sentient monsters can be allowed to live, if they prove their good intentions. Half-Orcs can overcome the feral rage, Goblins prove to be intelligent, and bugbears can have strong moral fibers. But a vampire can never be redeemed; they feed on the living. Unacceptable to the gentle halfling. "I cannot have a reaper of life in my guild, around my patrons and sleeping under my roof! I will not be that irresponsible as to let my friends come to danger like that!" Barthelmor speaks empassioned now. The threat of a vampire, unacceptable.

 

[SirFlabberghaspy]

Party 2


Don't get him wrong, Eirikr definitely did not like Sevar at all. However, he also didn't like vampires even more.


"A vampire? We hunt your kind down in the North," Eirikr would inform loudly as he eyed the two idiots, Sevar and Desh, who were fighting around. He didn't like the halfling either, they were too cunning and full of themselves for his tastes. However, he figured that it was better than being in a room full of orcs. Granted, a room full of orcs would quickly end his headache, while this rowdy group would most likely drag it on for unnecessary hours.


"I don't know what kind of rules the South has, though, so I don't care. As long as you don't go after me," Eirikr would reassure Desh. He never felt any particular kind of hatred towards vampires, but there was certainly a preset Northern instinct within him that told him not to trust Desh at all. It was only natural for a Northerner.

 

[Foxgirl Jay]

Sevar rolls his eyes. Confirmed on it. "In the South vampires get hunted down too. Your precious fucking North isn't some magical fairy wonderland where everything is better. Does anything come out of your mouth that isn't related to which compass direction you were spewed out your mothers womb at?" But Sevar was being unfair. He was getting frustrated, angry even at this break of his usually calm days. "I've been there. Nobody washes often and it's disgusting. Everything smells of frozen fish." Sevar takes a deep breath.


"Now that we're all thoroughly worked up and gotten to know each other more. All who wish to join my quest..." He leaves the question to hang with a shrug. No matter who comes, he leaves the Inn, and makes to the dock area, to the warehouse. Maybe, his mind calls to the blade. He can feel it's elation.

 

[SirFlabberghaspy]

No Party


Eirikr shook his head as he eyed Sevar. The man was truly annoying and childish, and he refused to follow him. Eirikr wasn't bragging about the North, and it certainly was a magical and fae-filled land of wonders, but didn't feel like responding to the damned Southerner. Besides, it never did smell like frozen fish, and everyone in his House did wash, so the man was truly inaccurate. Clearly, he hadn't visited the greater parts of Schnar. If the man had seen Wondrah Forest, he'd be choking on his words.


Ser Greymane shook his head and turned to eye the bar in front of him as Sevar walked off. He wasn't going to follow that man anywhere. "Are all of your clients so hostile?", he'd ask the halfling.

 

[Foxgirl Jay]

"You don't understand this place, do you?" Barthelmor hrrm's, with an irritated expression. "Guildmate, not client. Beyond that, friend. But enough of that. You're not here to join a guild, and you're not here to drink. How about you just say what you want?" The halfling asks, while polishing a mug, and when finishes with that, wiping down the bar counter.

 

[Fletchr]

(Co-written with 'The Gunrunner', after this conjoined post we'll split it off into two separate posts, just felt like this would be easier on the post count given that the two are currently traveling together. Blue chat is Tasis, Olive chat is Lutolf.)

​

Tasis stirs in his blanket of fur, the stench of his companion and his damp clothing assaulting his nostrils. He pulls the fur blanket over his head, but that only hinders his breathing. He pushes it back down, but then both the cold and stench can creep in. This dilemma has him switch between the two methods of sleep throughout the night.

It didn't take long for the sun to rise, and as it did Lutolf stirred. He had been standing the entire night, Halberd in hand and rotten eyes wide open - gaze fixated on the sky in an almost trance-like state of boredom. As the sun peaks out above the far horizon, he turns towards Tasis, having only been three feet from the sleeping human, he closes the distance before delivering a light kick to Tasis' sleeping figure. "Oi, Boss." He wheezes, his voice scratchy "Suns up, get up."

Tasis stirs, pulling the blanket away from him "Gods can't let me have one full damned night of sleep," he mumbles. The fur is rolled up and laid across the top of his travel bag - He proceeds to bind it in place with two straps of leather. "At least the rains have stopped, eh?"

Lutolf directs a small nod towards the human - The difference between him and Tasis becoming profoundly more confusing as time wore on - It takes him a few moments, but eventually he decides to speak, "I ... Suppose so." he begins, "I'm not quite a fan of what the rain does to my body." His words are akward and slow, his grasp on the ability to speak not quite where it once was.

Tasis lifts his bag with a heave, scanning over his companion for a moment. "Hm. Well, let's get going. There's supposed to be a town near here."

-

After several hours of dull, tiring travel, the duo stumbled across the outskirts of Kolkhome - The smell of the ocean saturated the air, and it seemed noticeably colder - at least, it must have for Tasis - Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately for Lutolf, most of his senses had become dull - and very rarely did anything actually register as a noticeable sensation aside from the occasional footfall, or the impact of a tree-branch he hadn't quite noticed in time.

Lutolf forced Tasis to stop at the outskirts of the Harbor City, letting out a dull sigh before doing his best to clear the rotten phlegm from his throat, "The herbs, I need them." He grunts.

Tasis nods, moving his rucksack from around his back - "Right." He rummages around in the bag, the sound of clinking metal the most apparent as he moves its contents around. Eventually, he pulls out a cloth sack and hands it over. "You need your own bag, Lutolf; this thing's stench isn't coming out my mine."

Lutolf rolls his eyes - The movement is slow, and very obvious - but he gives a small nod afterwards. Taking the bag from Tasis, he sets it down between his feet, quickly beginning to remove the sections of his plate armor, and the leather padding surrounding his flesh - as he does so, the full-force of his rotten stench assaults Tasis' senses.

Tasis' nose crinkles, and his stomach contracts - He turns away from Lutolf, his throat closing and opening to foretell the possibility of vomiting. His sense of smell regarding Lutolf has numbed from his constant exposure, helping him greatly, but... not quite enough. "Gods damnit, Lutolf! Hurry up with that!"

Lutolf gives Tasis another small nod, gesturing towards the sections of leather. "I'm going to need ... you help ... getting these back on." He says, crouching down - he wraps a hand around the bag of herbs, simply untying the knot holding the bag together before sticking a hand within, he produces a small handful of herbs, which he begins to crush within the palm of his hand - afterwards, he simply smacks the crushed herbs against a section of his exposed, slowly rotting flesh - It sticks in a rather disgusting manner.

"... Fuck."

-

Tasis walks through the door of the inn, his companion close behind. A two foot radius follows the two - Those in the ring of influence would be assaulted by the smell of various herbs, as if one of the two had just crawled out of a campfire crockpot. Their conversation continues "- a drink in three days, nor a bed."

He walks up to the bar counter, swatting two hard taps against the wood for the barman's attention - "Wine and a bed," he'd state.

Lutolf falls silent, hanging behind Tasis - following him towards the bar. His Full-Plate and Sallet helmet blocking out any prying eyes that might happen to wander across his figure. His gloved hands are simply wrapped around the haft of his Halberd. His head turns to the left, slowly scanning over the Inn's current occupants.​

 

[SirFlabberghaspy]

"Well, I was actually thinking of getting a drink," Eirikr would reply as he eyed the other patrons of the tavern. He has never seen a guild set itself up within a tavern before, as most guilds in the North had Guild Halls. He could only figure that this was some sort of adventurer's guild, given the whole look of the place. He'd turn to eye the halfling again.


"But, I'd mostly like information on the town, and the gu--", he'd begin to finish, before eyeing Tasis.

 

[Foxgirl Jay]

(Just to clarify, Kolkhome is a city, not a town.)


No Party


The occupants; the usually cheerful Halfling who's been made to be serious for a moment, the Knight from the North, a rougeish looking man, a vampire, and a couple of nameless patrons just hoping to drink in peace.


Barthelmor mans the inn's bar. "Every standard drink or bottle is one gold. Fancier stuff, two pieces. Rooms cost you four pieces." For a harbour city, exceptionally cheap prices. "So what'll it be sir, any preference for wine? Red, white, sparkling?" The Halfling asks, putting his cheerful expression back. "And same for the Northerner, tell me what you want." Trying to be as friendly as he can, but the situation beforehand left Barthelmor frustrated. He considered asking the man, Tasis, if his friend wanted anything, a bath specifically, but politeness held him back. Best to not offend his guests in his own inn after all.


"As for information, it won't cost you, depending on what'cha want to know."

 

[SirFlabberghaspy]

(Yeah, just consider it a sort of slang. Y' know, like 'Hit the Town')


No Party


Eirikr smirked as he eyed the armor of Lutolf, glad to see a fellow plate-mail wearer, hopefully a knight, within the port city. He didn't think too much on Tasis, though. Instead, he focused his gaze back on the collection of exquisite alcohols behind the bartender. He'd hum for a second, before eyeing the halfling again.


"Just regular ale will do, thanks," Eirikr would pipe up as he eyed the other carefully, before shifting his gaze back over to the new arrivals. They were certainly more appealing than the others he had met, specifically the one that had a bad attitude. He eyed Lutolf's visor carefully, wondering what was past it. He'd guess a matured human, but he figured that anyone could be wearing knight's armor, considering all of the strange things that occurred within the Realm. There were truly no limits.


Instead of impolitely staring for the few seconds that he shifted his gaze to Tasis and Lutolf, he'd greet them with a slight smile and tilted nod. "Welcome."

 

[Foxgirl Jay]

A regular ale, served up in a stein, as is traditional for this part of the world. And as is usual for Barthelmor, he will have the coin before handing over the drink. Just to be safe that people won't run off with his alcohol, not that anybody had ever tried.


He'd prefer to get back to his duties, for now. Until someone decided to speak to him, at least. A busy halfling indeed, always work to be done for managing his inn and guild.

 

[SirFlabberghaspy]

No Party


Eirikr would slide ten silver across the table, overpaying for the alcohol. However, he didn't seem to care, and was more absorbed in the fact that he'd be able to drink soon. He shook his head and let out a sigh as he eyed the halfling, "You don't know how long I've gone without proper ale, I could care less if I've overpaid, so long as I get to drink something."


He'd eye his coinpurse that was attached to his belt, where he had retrieved the currency. He was unsure of whether or not the price was higher, as he was more used to prices in the higher parts of the world than in the South. Eirikr didn't bother to ask for any information on it either, because he truly doubted that most people within their cities knew anything about the local economy anyway.


Not to mention he was busy taking care of a few thugs within an alleyway at the time, and he didn't think asking them for advice on economical issues was the best thing to do whilst decapitating them. It was a shame too, he could've killed two birds with one stone had he dared to ask, but Eirikr was much more a man of honorable combat than snarky-remark-filled combat.

 

[Remmock]

By now, if one was unusual enough, chances are they would be used to stares. However, Myrrl never really had gotten used to it. So, when he had presented his papers at the gates and been stared at by the company of soldiers who were weighing even allowing the Gnoll to pass through. However his story, demeanor, and and equipment together were enough to allow them to consider him apt to enter on the condition that he checked in with them every night when he was in the city. He shrugged, agreeing because why in the nine hells not?


After getting past, he looked around. He had no map, so he began to go store to store to ask about a place to stay. He discovered as was usual that people were more eager to avoid him than confront him, and while that sometimes played out in his favor it seemed that it would work against him here. He was surprised then, when the trembling proprietor simply offered a location and a name to him. Smart man, he thought. Get me out of here faster by answering. It was then that he nodded and thanked the man for his time, turning and leaving.


Myrrl trudged through the city, sighing as he finally came upon the Inn. Guild. Whatever. The store owner had been kind enough to forewarn him after the Gnoll had thanked him that the people there might not take well to a Gnoll of any kind. As such, he moved and opened the door. The scent of something dead hit his potent nostrils immediately, souring his expression even as he passed through the door by bowing his armor-plated form and stepping through. His lips were curled in disgust, showing his teeth as he moved his large bulk toward the counter with slow, measured steps. His tower shields swayed by their own accord, clanging steadily while he walked up. "Good day," he finally said.


@Fletchr @SirFlabberghaspy @Foxgirl Jay @shadowz1995

 

[Foxgirl Jay]

"A good day to you as well!" Chimes the smiling halfling. Perhaps a first for the Gnoll. And someone so small to boot, not afraid or hesitant around the giant creature. Barthelmor beckons the massive hyena-man over to the bar. "How can I help you today?" He asks, forced to tilt his head up to meet Myrrl's eyes. Barthelmor's not worried about the Gnoll causing trouble, he's worried about the other patrons being offended or scared off by the giant thing. Perhaps they'd follow Barthelmor's inclusive example.


(Man, I wish the people in my current quest were online. Playing the Barkeep only is getting boring )

 

[SirFlabberghaspy]

No Party


Eirikr had never seen a gnoll before, but could tell what Myrll was due to previous descriptions of the creatures. He figured that Myrll was rather tame, though, and did not show any signs of aggression upon spotting him. The gnoll certainly wasn't pleasant, but Eirikr didn't expect much from a beast that resembled a walking dog-thing.


The knight shrugged and grabbed at his mug, taking sips at it as he thought on what he was to do. He decided that he'd eventually have to find some sort of contract soon, but didn't see any opportunities presenting itself.


(Poor Jay)

 

[The Gunrunner]

No Party


"Red wine is my poison. Stronger tasting stuff."


With that, Tasis reaches to a flap of chain-mail hanging from the front of his belt. Lifting it up, he reaches into the coin-pouch underneath and fishes out five coins. "No need for two rooms."


His ears perk to another voice, seemingly addressing him - 'Welcome.' He turns his head to look over, looking the man from top to bottom. A grin breaks across his face - Plate mail and a sword. Hmm... Tasis looks around the tavern, only now caring to note the other patrons - Hoods, knives, swords, shields, armours, and freaks. An adventurers' inn.


The grin widens; him and his partner were in need for a job. In truth, his coin pouch was nearing its limit, and he'd been concerned that they may not find anyone in need of their services until they were posting to be common guards.


"I'm feeling welcomed." He pushes himself up, moving to a neighboring seat from the man - Though his scent is not nearly as repulsive as Lutolf, there is a stench of sweat, and the dirty state of his armour is no redemption from that.


"Good armour. I used to have a similar set. Same helmet, too, if I've not lost my memory."

 

[SirFlabberghaspy]

No Party


"I see. I made this armor when I was a young farmer back in Schnar. Used every bit of coin I had saved up to do it, too. I didn't necessarily make the gauntlets, though, these are more of a family heirloom," Eirikr would inform as he sipped at his drink again. It was good to meet other fellows who took interest in more traditional forms of warfare and apparel, and he was feeling much more positive about Tasis and his friend.


Silently, though, Eirikr would eye his katana, which rested within a sheath, leaning against his seat. It was a strange weapon, sure, but Eirikr knew how to use it well enough. Besides, it seemed to be much more effective in lopping off limbs than your normal blades. Eirikr did prefer his fine bastard sword and shield over the katana, though, and was much more comfortable with using his more common weaponry.


"Where are you from?", Eirikr would bring up.

 

[Fletchr]

Lutolf directed a glance towards the Gnoll, looking it over for a moment before simply redirecting his gaze towards the Innkeeper. He remains silent for a solid minute, processing any potential problems that might be caused if he were to speak. Eventually he lets out a short, dull sigh - "Does the Inn ... Serve food?" He asks, his words come out in a slightly wheezing manner, his tone sounds oddly flat - and his helmet gives it a muffled effect - There's clearly something wrong with his ability to speak. "If so ... is there a ... Menu?" He continued.


He makes no effort to take a seat, simply remaining on Tasis' right - Leaning slightly to the side, using the the haft of his Halberd as a support to keep himself from toppling sideways.

 

[The Gunrunner]

No Party


Made it? That would have saved some coins... Besides the lessons, tools, furnace- Never mind.


"Bit far from these parts. My home is in the far wests, in an island country... A lot of fish out there."


He gestures back to the man, a clink of metal emitting when the hand is dropped back on the counter.

 

[Foxgirl Jay]

Red wine, served. "Hm, not much a menu. This late at night, we serve beef stew, a vegetable soup or grilled chicken breast." Barthelmor lists off, while putting the money Tasis gave him earlier in to a bag he keeps beneath the bar counter. "And I promise you, you'll enjoy what ever my cook serves for you!" He says with a smile and a wink. He says it loudly enough, hoping to catch the notice of the other bar patrons. Tonight was proving to be profitable indeed. Ah, it fills my heart and my pockets to see so many people outside the guild ordering from my bar!

 

[Fletchr]

Lutolf clacked his teeth together in thought, the sound emerging from the confines of his helmet. He comes to a decision rather quickly, pulling his right hand from the haft of the halberd - he fishes a small leather bag from beneath the faulds covering his upper legs. "How much ... for the chicken?" He asks, taking a few steps forwards in order to close the gap between himself and the Counter-top.

 

[Foxgirl Jay]

Barthelmor's mouth tightens at the putrid-smelling man's approach. Thankfully, it's dampened by the much more enjoyable smell of the various alcohols around him. Barthelmor rings a small bell underneath the bar counter, three quick dings. "One gold piece sir. It'll be ready for you after a short wait." After a short pause, the halfling adds "Would you like a drink with that?"


A voice like rolling mountain stone comes from the kitchen door behind the bar counter, shouting out "Last call for meals, kitchen's closin up!"

 

[Dendyne]

Party 1


Connor rolled off of the Orc's body, daggers in hand, and onto his back in a blood slicked patch of gross. He was breathing heavily, neck aching from the choking attempt as he rolled on to all fours.


'If I hadn't prepped that Barkskin..' Connor preferred to take the thought no farther as he put his feet underneath him and looked up to see Oranos finish slicing into his own opponent.


"You all made this sound hard!" he joked knowing full well if his reflexes were a second slower he would have endured a painful demise.


The archers were still firing off arrows uselessly, the wall was fading but it would hold for a little longer so he dashed over to where his spear had fallen and sheathed his daggers. Rearming himself with his spear Connor circled around the Orcs still fighting, they were outnumbered and it was more important to stop the archers before the wall faded completely.


He came to this conclusion as he turned to face the top of the hill and took a shaft into his left shin, his spell slowed the arrow but a good third of it burrowed into Connor's now shattered shin. Partially collapsing from the pain and surprise he slammed the butte of his spear down, taking as much weight as he could give it he stumbled but stayed up.


"It's- it's down!" he groaned looking down at his leg and back up at the row of nocked arrows facing him. Very much daunted at this point he cast Warp Wood on their bows as they fired, hoping for a miracle.


(( I have been napping all day, it's been beautiful ))

 

[Fletchr]

Lutolf gives a small shake of his head, "No. Thank you." he says, prying the bag open before fishing out a single gold coin. He places it atop the counter before suddenly turning around, making his way towards a lone table placed near a far corner of the room - He takes a a seat, doing his best to place a reasonable distance between himself and the other Inn's patrons - clearly well aware just how horrific the stench following him is.


Once immobile he props the halberd up against the crook of his left shoulder, his gaze fixating on his own right hand as he begins to slowly tap his gloved fingers across the surface of the table.

 

[Foxgirl Jay]

Party 1


Their already crude bows are ruined, the tips curling and splitting apart, the strings snap. An unlucky orc is killing by the powerfully taut string suddenly breaking and whipping against his face. Enough force to split flesh open and break the skull. But the archers still have, for an Orc, small axes for when they're forced in to a melee. They join the fray.


Replacing them at the top of the hill, is an orc with green-grey skin, darker than the other orcs. He wears tribal looking shamanistic clothes. The comparatively smaller orc wears robe of vines, hide and cloth, rattling trinkets of bone and a tall headdress pinned with the feathers of a large flightless bird. He grips a staff headed with spiked bones, other charms, and a single blood-shot red eye.


Liara has fought Orc Shamans a few times before, but was confidant enough in her experience that she could handle it. "Allies, gather close to me, now!" Liara shouts, her voice filled with urgency. Her guess of what's to come next is proven correct. She wants her allies within her Paladin aura, that passive holy zone that protects all around her from the debilitating effects of being close to raw evil.


The Orc Shaman screams, rather than chants it's spells, putting a great force of passion behind his prayer to Gruumsh for a malediction. A favorite of fel priests and necromancers alike. Some may even say, a classic. He points his staff at the end of the short impassioned spell. He casts Bane upon his foes, to make them feel suddenly tired, their limbs sore... that is, if they were not close to Lilara.


(I'm changing up my initial plan for this quest. Going to add a few more Orcs to the camp [they'll join in after a post or two of mine] and adding right by the camp. That's the prison. Shortening the quest because... well, I'll be honest I didn't plan for this many people to join my RP and I don't think I can properly DM 3 quests going on at once without having a big drop in quality >3< )


No Party


Just as Barthelmor had promised, Lutolf is served a meal of expertly grilled and seasoned chicken breast, and only after a short wait.