B1.1 - Beginnings
Moderator: greyarea
Re: B1.1 - Beginnings
Fauk mutters, "Someone once called me a drunken apple...oh, wait...it wasn't apple"
Re: B1.1 - Beginnings
At least they didn’t call you a Granny Smith, replies Tor.
Re: B1.1 - Beginnings
No need to get saucy.
- tumblingdice
- Posts: 456
- Joined: Tue Oct 11, 2016 5:26 pm
- Location: Southern NH
Re: B1.1 - Beginnings
Day 6. Drunken Apple Tavern, Tenney Hollow, evening
Your group, taking its leave of the guards, ambles into the village. As promised, you soon come across the main square. Along one side is a two-storey tavern that looks to be in good repair, adorned with a sign of an anthropomorphic apple knocked on its tookus. A few patrons mill about the entrance, eying you with interest, but not hostility as you make your way inside.
You cross the threshold, your eyes adjusting to the dark interior. As you can see from the map above, there are but a handful of patrons here at the moment, all of whom seem to be simple farmers or villagers. A sturdy, sullen-looking barkeep is pouring an ale for a customer. A boy of no more than ten, appears to have emerged from a pair of double doors, presumably leading to the kitchen. The air is filled with the scent of stale ale, greasy pub fair, and the burning wood from the fire.
(Dang. There doesn't appear to be a fireplace in this tavern. What a ripoff! Okay, let's say the staircase at the top of the diagram is actually a hearth with a big roaring fire. There! That's better.)
Actions?
Your group, taking its leave of the guards, ambles into the village. As promised, you soon come across the main square. Along one side is a two-storey tavern that looks to be in good repair, adorned with a sign of an anthropomorphic apple knocked on its tookus. A few patrons mill about the entrance, eying you with interest, but not hostility as you make your way inside.
You cross the threshold, your eyes adjusting to the dark interior. As you can see from the map above, there are but a handful of patrons here at the moment, all of whom seem to be simple farmers or villagers. A sturdy, sullen-looking barkeep is pouring an ale for a customer. A boy of no more than ten, appears to have emerged from a pair of double doors, presumably leading to the kitchen. The air is filled with the scent of stale ale, greasy pub fair, and the burning wood from the fire.
(Dang. There doesn't appear to be a fireplace in this tavern. What a ripoff! Okay, let's say the staircase at the top of the diagram is actually a hearth with a big roaring fire. There! That's better.)
Actions?
Re: B1.1 - Beginnings
Fauk pulls up a stool at the nearest table making sure to face the doors. "Barkeep! Bring a pitcher of ale fo me and one for the rest of my friends! My throat is parched and hunger gnaws my innards!"
OOC ~ Fauk remembers he has only 1 gold piece and hopes the prices are not too dear.
OOC ~ Fauk remembers he has only 1 gold piece and hopes the prices are not too dear.
Re: B1.1 - Beginnings
Tor stands by the fire, warming himself. A barbarian from the north, he tends to be chilly.
Barkeep
Yes, ales are good! He says. Barkeep, call me Tor. Say, can you tell me is there any news in this town?
Barkeep
Yes, ales are good! He says. Barkeep, call me Tor. Say, can you tell me is there any news in this town?
- connivingsumo
- Posts: 923
- Joined: Sun Jul 29, 2018 10:55 pm
Re: B1.1 - Beginnings
Bert - Priest of the One True God
Bert smiles broadly as he sees the well-supplied bar. He says to no one in particular, "Ah, the long walk has left me quite parched. A few ales should fix that. Heh heh heh..."
Bert smiles and nods politely at the patrons if they look his way. He pulls up a chair with his companions and waits for someone to take his order.
Bert smiles broadly as he sees the well-supplied bar. He says to no one in particular, "Ah, the long walk has left me quite parched. A few ales should fix that. Heh heh heh..."
Bert smiles and nods politely at the patrons if they look his way. He pulls up a chair with his companions and waits for someone to take his order.
- tumblingdice
- Posts: 456
- Joined: Tue Oct 11, 2016 5:26 pm
- Location: Southern NH
Re: B1.1 - Beginnings
The barkeep sizes all of you up in turn, then commences filling your orders and pouring 2 large pitchers of ale. Turning to face the young boy, he bellows, "Trebbelos! Put your scabby hide to use and bring these folks some bread!"
The boy scampers back into the kitchen, then returns a moment later with a few loaves of brown bread. He puts them down on your table without a word, or eye contact, then seems to disappear into the shadows. The barkeep then comes over with the pitchers and empty mugs. "We'll settle up when you've had your fill," he grunts, as he puts the tray down in front of Fauk.
"Only news here," he grumbles in reply to Tor, after a moment's reflection, "is that I'm stuck serving you ale when you should be drinkin' cider." The barkeep shakes his head sadly. "But the crop was no good this year. Something's rotten out in them orchards."
Slip, no one seems to have taken any particular interest in you, by which I mean they're not leering at you any more than they do any other ladies that come into the tavern. Lecherous yokels!
Bert, you get a few nods of greeting in return from said yokels, but no one engages. Perhaps they've all heard you've gone dark, and are keeping their distance. You think you hear someone whisper "Vienna sausages," and "Fratzeldroop," but you can't be sure.
Actions?
The boy scampers back into the kitchen, then returns a moment later with a few loaves of brown bread. He puts them down on your table without a word, or eye contact, then seems to disappear into the shadows. The barkeep then comes over with the pitchers and empty mugs. "We'll settle up when you've had your fill," he grunts, as he puts the tray down in front of Fauk.
"Only news here," he grumbles in reply to Tor, after a moment's reflection, "is that I'm stuck serving you ale when you should be drinkin' cider." The barkeep shakes his head sadly. "But the crop was no good this year. Something's rotten out in them orchards."
Slip, no one seems to have taken any particular interest in you, by which I mean they're not leering at you any more than they do any other ladies that come into the tavern. Lecherous yokels!
Bert, you get a few nods of greeting in return from said yokels, but no one engages. Perhaps they've all heard you've gone dark, and are keeping their distance. You think you hear someone whisper "Vienna sausages," and "Fratzeldroop," but you can't be sure.
Actions?