As the evening grows late and the day succumbs to darkness, Sara and Lara rush around The Laughing Leprechaun, the inn and tavern their father owns, lighting candles and sconced torches, trying to defend against the encroaching darkness and impending storms ahead. A not-too-large a tavern in a hamlet on the borders of Sembia and the Dalelands, The Laughing Leprechaun is starting to fill up quickly this night as the people rush in throughout the evening trying to avoid the whipping wind and large slow raindrops. Inside, the sounds of laughter and singing can be heard coming from the dozen and a half patrons trying to keep rhythm with a half elven minstrel thats been in town for a week or so. The only competition the makeshift singing crowd has this night, is the loud boisterous clapping of thunder outside from the fast approaching storm. As the candles burn lower and the singers start slurring their drinking songs more, most of the customers have eaten their fill of a spicey beef stew or mutton with glazed carrots and potatoes.
Once the singing grows louder and the thunderheads outside seem to be right on top of the tavern, a large gust of wind blows the door to the tavern open, landing with a crash against the wall. As the tavern's patrons quickly jerk their heads to the crash of the door, a flash of lightning reveals a lone cloaked figure standing just outside the doorway. The slight man stands still, cloak whipping in the wind behind him, rainwater dripping off the brim of his foppish plumed wide-brimmed hat. Everyone watches as the stranger starts to enter the building, Sara and Lara instinctively moving closer to their father, but all gasp as just when about to cross the threshhold, the strangers head and body suddenly jerks back, as if the wind and darkness reclaimed him back out into the night. Half the patrons quickly turned their gaze not wanting to be seen staring, the others couldn't help but to gawk. Just as the stranger's cloak becomes taught and yanks his head back, he quickly turns on a heel, with seemingly catlike reflexes to catch the culprit in the act. Another flash of lightning reveals the end of the stranger's cape being caught on a long stray splinter, on a piece of rotted board on the front porch of the tavern. Lean fingers grab the edges of the cloak, and forcefully yank the cloth free, only causing another of numerous rips in the garment. The slight man shakes his head, with a "Hmph" as he closes the door and starts a slow deliberate march to a lone barstool near the end of the bar.
As the man walks between the tables and nearer the patrons on his way to the bar, the flickering candlelight reveals, although obviously having being wiped recently, a mixture of blood, dirt and sweat on the man's face, neck, and hands. Now looking at those hands and features, they suddenly realize this is no slight man, but these are the lean fingers and angular feathure of a lean taut elf, an elf that looks as though he just walked off of a battlefield.
I waited for your map uploadance for 12 hours, Achinca boss. Don't you try and sass me, mang!
I am posting now. WOOO
__________________
Solaufein avatar by the awe inspiring Trazoi.
Spoiler
*Your magic is mine!*
_Spellbreaker from Warcraft 3
*Magic. Yes, I know you think you know what it is and how it works. You don't. You are an ignorant fool, just like all the others.*
_Khelben "Blackstaff" Arunsun
As the evening grows late and the day succumbs to darkness, Sara and Lara rush around The Laughing Leprechaun, the inn and tavern their father owns, lighting candles and sconced torches, trying to defend against the encroaching darkness and impending storms ahead. A not-too-large a tavern in a hamlet on the borders of Sembia and the Dalelands, The Laughing Leprechaun is starting to fill up quickly this night as the people rush in throughout the evening trying to avoid the whipping wind and large slow raindrops. Inside, the sounds of laughter and singing can be heard coming from the dozen and a half patrons trying to keep rhythm with a half elven minstrel thats been in town for a week or so. The only competition the makeshift singing crowd has this night, is the loud boisterous clapping of thunder outside from the fast approaching storm. As the candles burn lower and the singers start slurring their drinking songs more, most of the customers have eaten their fill of a spicey beef stew or mutton with glazed carrots and potatoes.
Once the singing grows louder and the thunderheads outside seem to be right on top of the tavern, a large gust of wind blows the door to the tavern open, landing with a crash against the wall. As the tavern's patrons quickly jerk their heads to the crash of the door, a flash of lightning reveals a lone cloaked figure standing just outside the doorway. The slight man stands still, cloak whipping in the wind behind him, rainwater dripping off the brim of his foppish plumed wide-brimmed hat. Everyone watches as the stranger starts to enter the building, Sara and Lara instinctively moving closer to their father, but all gasp as just when about to cross the threshhold, the strangers head and body suddenly jerks back, as if the wind and darkness reclaimed him back out into the night. Half the patrons quickly turned their gaze not wanting to be seen staring, the others couldn't help but to gawk. Just as the stranger's cloak becomes taught and yanks his head back, he quickly turns on a heel, with seemingly catlike reflexes to catch the culprit in the act. Another flash of lightning reveals the end of the stranger's cape being caught on a long stray splinter, on a piece of rotted board on the front porch of the tavern. Lean fingers grab the edges of the cloak, and forcefully yank the cloth free, only causing another of numerous rips in the garment. The slight man shakes his head, with a "Hmph" as he closes the door and starts a slow deliberate march to a lone barstool near the end of the bar.
As the man walks between the tables and nearer the patrons on his way to the bar, the flickering candlelight reveals, although obviously having being wiped recently, a mixture of blood, dirt and sweat on the man's face, neck, and hands. Now looking at those hands and features, they suddenly realize this is no slight man, but these are the lean fingers and angular feathure of a lean taut elf, an elf that looks as though he just walked off of a battlefield.
Come on Baveboi, I was only pulling your leg. Were is your sense of humor, man?
It's hidden. Right there, behind my sarcasm boss.
__________________
Solaufein avatar by the awe inspiring Trazoi.
Spoiler
*Your magic is mine!*
_Spellbreaker from Warcraft 3
*Magic. Yes, I know you think you know what it is and how it works. You don't. You are an ignorant fool, just like all the others.*
_Khelben "Blackstaff" Arunsun
Thats just a beginning, I'll try and get another post up tonite, that will put him closer to Cormyr and his reason for being near the temple. Would've last nite but had a date
Last edited by puffmagicdragon : 04-29-2012 at 08:49 AM.
As he walks across the room, keen observers recognize the slender sheath of a rapier hanging off the left hip of his weapon's belt, empty however. A dagger hangs off his right hip, with another stiletto like dagger peeking out of his right boot. Along with the smears of crimson dried blood and grime on his suit of leather armor, many cuts and slashes can be seen, this armor has seen much use. Once the elf takes a seat at the bar, the music seems to quicken as the patrons get back to drinking and singing, except for some, curiosity getting the better of them.
"A hot meal and ale." is all he says, as Sara brings over a bowl of hot water with a towel and sets before him. This brings what looks like almost a smile to the elf's features. He grabs the towel, dipping it into the water and wringing it out thoroughly, wipes his face and neck, and continues the process until most visible parts of his body are reasonably clean. Shortly after a steaming bowl of beef stew along with fresh roll, cheese, and ale are brought over. The bartender/ proprietor of the establishment drops the plates down before him with a clatter, eyeing the elf, he says, "You look as though you have a story to tell, elf..."
I swore she was. I know why. It is because of the pic that Baveboi posted. I think she was blonde. If not, she must remind me of a blonde in a previous life acting like her.
"Do you travel alone elf? These are dangerous times to be traveling alone too much." the barkeep says. The elf says nothing. The barkeep makes his rounds, filling mugs with ale, and removing finished empty ones. After cleaning a few plates and cookware, the barkeep makes his way back over to the mysterious elf. He watches the elf eat, looking at his as if he were a puzzle, trying to figure him out. "Where's you weapon elf?" This causes the elf, at the same time, to look up at the barkeep and reach down to the dagger off his right hip. He then look down to the empty sheath hanging loosely off his left hip. The elf shakes his with with an audible sigh, and turns back to the barkeep, "Ryxikor." he says to the barkeep, "Jacob's my name" the owner says, louder than eralier, perhaps pleased with himself that he not only got the elf to talk, but to give his name, ''and this is my establishment." he says spreading his arms wide, with a toothy grin. "So, tell me, Ryxikor, how does one like you travel without his..." as he looks down to the elf's sheath, he hesitates then asks, "...rapier?"
After finishing his ale, and half his bowl of stew, Ryx looks back up to Jacob, "Left it behind, I couldn't retreive it if I were to survive." He slides his mug over, letting Jacob refill it. The barkeep brings the mug back over to the elf, setting it downs, he says, "This ones on me..." he looks at the elf, then says with a smile, "...if you continue."
Last edited by puffmagicdragon : 04-30-2012 at 03:05 PM.
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Re: Cormyr - The Tearing of the Wave: OOC
Don't you try and sass me, mang!
