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The Gateway Inn

OOC:
Since I do think I will indulge in AoCs rp a bit, I thought I would strike up an attempt to interact with one another a bit and make the wait for the launch ever so slightly shorter.
Since we barely know anything about the world, let me set a rough stage we could interact in. I have given it some thought and while skipping the reasons to not bloat this introduction I think I have a reasonable outline that makes sense. On top of that we can threat it as just a parallel universe thing we can disregard/change to whatever lore we might get over time.
Just have a good time exploring our little take on the situation.(I'm really torn between keeping it all short and going in full blown out details, but the "make just the bare necessity" won out)

The introduction:
We are on our exile world. For decades or longer we are living here now, even the longest lived race will have had a generation or two left behind already.
It's a good enough, rough place to live and survive in and over the generations we adapted to it's short comings in resources, both material wise and magical. The individual races learned to live together too over time sitting in the same boat and while there might be differences through passed down traditions, in general, hostility comes down more to disputes between individual peoples personalities than race.
We mix and mingle well, but we do know that not every home is like "my home", my people.
A few months ago "the gods" have bestowed us the knowledge of possible return in the coming years and erected the gateways. Busy with their own preparation they are leaving us to our own accord.
Legends were always told at fire sites/places, but now even the oldest surviving books about the most trivial things were dug up about the old world and excitement is generally high. Dreams were always woven among a good portion to return to a lusher more fulfilling world.

"The Gateway Inn":
The building was placed in eyesight of one of the gateways shortly after the announcement of the gods. By now there is quite a towns worth of adventurers and curious folk that settled down close by in wait for the gates opening.
The Inn itself as are most buildings in town is a modest two story wooden building. This one is rather flat but extensive to give room for a lot of people, travelers and pilgrims coming from all over to gaze and or prepare for what's to come.
The entrance is set, rather than in the middle, more to the side of the front.
Behind the double door entrance is some sort of reception hall that is closed off from the rest off the building. It takes up easily half of the length of the building since it is used to store any weapons brought inside. Only after leaving them behind, in exchange for a token from the staff, is anyone allowed to enter the actual Inn.
The Inn itself opens up after another double door on the left side wall into a modest display of work.
Immediately to the right are stairways up and surprisingly down as well. Through some well thought out construction there are two lower levels that are well lit with daylight while it lasts and supplemented with simple magical lamps when the light wanes.
The main floor features only enough space for a few dozen people to get whatever drink or food they want from the counter to seat themselves at a different floor. The kitchen is apparently behind the counter, but it's out of sight behind a line of casks and barrels.
Overall the Inn has a simple, comfortable and "homely" feel to it.

Celia Kestra:
One of the regular bartenders, nicknamed "Seek". An elf with a friendly natured face, bright smile befitting the position, dark hair loosely bound back and apparently a lot of scars.


<opens the doors to the Inn> Let's shape our own little stories and have fun.

Comments

  • @Grisu I really enjoyed reading this, keep up the work!
  • I respect the effort you put into this @Grisu
  • Nice job!
  • That's really nice of you, @Dr_Novo @DexterOFC @makinoji but this was kind of supposed to be just a rough sketch to rp in here a little. You know, vitalizing this sub-forum a little. Story writing comes when we know a bit more. : >
    So get in here and have fun with rp!

    Celia will bring you all that your heart desires be it food, drink or entertainment.
  • Wow thanks was a nice read 
  • Pleasant read for sure :blush:
  • In waltzes another Pyrian, this one clad in crimson vestments - an ornate overcoat, fitted with broad shoulders, that hems around his knees, with a black buttoned shirt beneath, and crimson trousers fitted into blackened leather boots. His hair is a kind of gold, that shimmers in the light. His soft features and airy way of moving, a sort of disciplined glide that takes him to inspect the various pieces of weaponry left within the hall, suggest an Empyrean. This is a man of civilization, grinning at the opportunity to take part in a new one.

    He makes his way to the bar, almost magnetically attracted to the elfin tender. "My dear, your cheer truly brings the room together!" As another patron attempts to muscle her way in, obviously looking to fill a thirst, the Pyrian patron gently elbows her towards the other overworked staff.

    "This- this is what I want to bring with me to the lost land. This... atmosphere, this cheer, this sense of anticipation. My clan has told me a thousand tales, you know, of Verra before the Flight. Ancient history, so lost to recognition it dulls the senses. On the other side I aim to collect or create a thousand more! That's why it will be called Thousand Tales, I declare it now!"

    The other strugglers, their stomachs blightfully empty, were not impressed.

    "My name is Arquus, my dear. Tell me, do you too have the will to leave this stagnant realm behind? I could always use more companions to keep the hearth warm and the drink flowing! Please, tell me the last story I'll hear outside of Verra!"

    Without making an order, he put an uncounted handful of coins on the counter. By reckoning it was more than enough for anything on the top shelf, but the mystery of the gesture left much room for interpretation.
  • <always moving, laughing and being busy Celia comes to a halt with the new arrival. Facing him she taps with her finger to a tune that can be heard from time to time over the laughter and busy chatter in the room from the upper floor. A simple and jolly tune people would dance too with more space available, some probably are anyway. She watches with a lazy smile while the newcomer prattles on about this and that. A glance to the side towards the misplaced patron is all the attention she does not bring him.
    As the coins drop she gathers them up before they come to a still landing. In fact it does bring a lot of beer, wine and other delicious regional things. This places topshelf is the grip under the desk and up comes a redish bottle with some womanly shape to it.
    "Hey Ken, flying bottle"
    <without her gaze leaving her patron the bottle gets a flick of the wrist to make an overhead turn into her left hand and make a fly to the next bartender who catches it without a glance.
    <swooping a bit to the left she puts on a dramatic air, with her voice changing to a bit of a hurtful stammer>
    "Sweety I'm so sorry, but you know I am cursed! <a flick with her hair underlines the joke> My beauty is just out of this world. Man, be it human, orc, dwarf, elf or even beast are just enthralled with it. So much they try to bite and claw it out of me, which somehow makes it even worse. I hope your favorite drink will mend your soul that I can't attend you for now.
    <on this two glasses come sliding in which Celia put's in front of the "Sweety", changing back to her cheerful before she turns back to her newcomer and what might have appeared as lack of impressment before among a part of the crowd turns out to have been attentive waiting for the usual little shows Celia does with a new patron>
    "In fact, since I always count right as you ALL <bringing the attention of her patron to the room, that is, in a larger amount at least looking his way, smiling like kids that just played a good joke on one another, playfully shoving at one another to get a better look>  know, everyone here gets a good mug full of beer. "
    <which is followed with a lot of laughs, cheers and hullas while the other bartenders are already working of getting those mugs full of beer into waiting hands.>
    <Celia grabs the two glasses that come their way and holds one out to Arquss with the sweetest smile she can muster and drinks her own. It's a magical and refined thing out of wild berries. It's flavor slowly changes through several tunes of sweet to a bitter spike and ends in a bloom of gentle caress>
    "I hope you will excuse this little game we like to play among ourselves whenever there is a chance, because this is the Gateway Inn where you leave all troubles behind of whatever might is haunting you."
    "<in a whisper she leans closer> Of course you will get your moneys worth of food and drink this is all just to make you one of here."
    <Leaning back the meaning is apparent since there where quite a few shouts already the like of "don't mind our Seek, she is just to wild for the likes of us" and "quite a few already fell on their nose with her, no one will separate her from her Inn", "Yeah, that is her tale after all, glad she will be moving through the new world with it!" followed by general cheer>
    "Now, if you so wish, you just found a lot of new friends you just gave a free drink to, they might be rough and most not as well spoken, but they enjoy a good tale and you would be surprised what they have to tell themselves, maybe you just never found the exciting parts of our home that we are leaving behind well too soon.
    I might just join you all later when there is some room for breaks."
    <with that she is "gone" taking on new orders filling bowls, mugs and glasses, shouting into the kitchen, getting plates in return and places them into the hands of hungry guests.>
  • The Empyrean's crimson eyes are cast upon the lot of celebrants. His thirst for the story of the tender sated, he takes up a nearby pitcher of ale, prepared and placed on the counter in response to the round he unintentionally bought, and makes his way to a table where the glasses were most empty.

    He leaps upon it, the liquid intoxicant sloshing noisily and convulsively in response to the sudden movement. The elf managed to keep it from spilling out with some clever handiwork, but soon its contents were emptied anyway as he refilled all the glasses to a foaming head.

    "A tale was summoned! Turn your ears, whatever shape they take, and drink of your cups and my words, friends yet unmet!" He raised the empty pitcher in theatrical gesticulation with this proclamation, and didn't wait to check how much attention he received before continuing.

    "I speak now of the clash on Deggan's Bridge. To appreciate the message, I must first explain the origin of that stonework viaduct across the Tandil Rapids, so listen close!

    "Our story begins with a Nikua huntress named Deggan. She was considered an adept at the Great Hunt, but was by no means the greatest; what she was known for was being the greatest swimmer alive at the time. Her clan's holding was near the Tandil Rapids, at the foot of Mount Stenn, where her clan had separated from the Dunir so long ago. The shores were stalked by a particular albino drake, which she took to calling Feather. Her life's goal was to hunt this great beast, and it forever eluded her.

    "Feather was quite the jumper, you see. She came at it day after day with bow and spear alike, and each time it would leap across the Tandil and retreat into the forestry that lay beyond. And each day she would brave that notoriously fatal river, then make camp at the other side to dry her gear. The effort to bring about the camp made her hate swimming for the same reason she took it up, and she was only left with an hour before nightfall to search for its lair. After a decade of this fruitless pursuit, she decided she would never touch that water again!"

    More wild gesticulation accompanied this final bit of lore, and a laugh as well. The teller seemed familiar with such exasperation, and took joy at relating such.

    "Five hundred years passed since she and the stone-mover shamans of her tribe erected that bridge. The village had long been reclaimed by nature, after the best game dried up. It seemed that with Feather dead, the balance of power between the beasts had been interrupted, and the fatty creatures fled to be replaced by lean rodents and leaner predators. The bridge's name was remembered, as was its story, but it was well away from the larger markets, and thus seldom trodden.

    "But chance had it that two men of great animosity came to meet upon this bridge. The first, a Ren'kai of unquestionable honor, versed in spellcraft and accompanied by a litany of familiars, went by the name of Grawn. The second, a Vaelune of untrustworthy report, whose seven daggers were said to each be shrouded in betrayal, called himself Abiz.

    "Their first meeting had been on seemingly good enough terms. Grawn and his wife had found evidence of a leyline, a potential route back to Verra, buried deep within the earth. To protect themselves they hired a bodyguard for their planned journey, Abiz. The cavern-dwelling creatures proved formidable but not too much for Abiz's skills, and a series of curses left by the Gods to dissuade passage towards the rumored place of power required Grawn's expertise to overcome.

    "At last they came upon what they sought. It did not take the form they expected, however! Rather than a latent leyline, it was a mirror whose reflections were of another world- Verra. It was small and portable, and Grawn's wife suggested they take it for study in their home. Abiz, however, had other plans; he cut her down and fled with the treasure, to later pawn it off on some collector of oddities who locked it in a vault.

    "Thusly, when their paths crossed, there was sure to be blood. They each took up a position on Deggan's Bridge, vowing to block the other from passing alive. Grawn sent forth his familiars, winged imps and crawling snakes, to lash out with magic; four of Abiz's daggers buried themselves irretrievably in the bridge to stop their approach. Abiz then rushed forth, somersaulting over Grawn in an attempt to strike at his back- only to trigger a glyph Grawn had surreptitiously called forth at their first meeting.

    "It exploded with a dull but resounding force, lacking in heat or cold, and sent Abiz flying into the air!" The red-garbed teller raised his glass in demonstration of the concussive spectacle. "He managed to recover his senses in time to throw a dagger into Grawn's chest just as Grawn called lightning from the sky to wrack his body with pain!

    "Both men taxed and injured, Abiz landed shakily, somehow not breaking his legs, and drew his last two daggers. Grawn pulled an orb of power from his pocket as he backstepped to gain distance, and it floated at his command. Abiz began a running start, and Grawn channeled his power to draw at the river itself. With a motion-" The elf performed the motion quite expertly, any student of magic would agree- "the Tandil swept up and surged over the bridge.

    "Shocklingly, Abiz was not washed away, and neither was Grawn. They had become stuck! They looked down in confusion to discover their feet sinking into the flagstones of that famous bridge. Sink and sink they did, until they were both swallowed whole, their bones now another set of stepping stones for travelers to get across the bridge.

    "Grawn may have been a student of many things, but history and tales was not one of them. If he had paid attention, he'd have surely known that one soaked with water would not be welcomed on that stone-blessed crossing!"

    The elf finishes this with a bow, and finishes the bow by taking a half-drunk glass he poured from before the story from the hands of the patron holding it, and downing the remaining contents with little regard for courtesy.

    "And what's your story, friend?" he asked.
  • Amazing reads by everyone!! :hushed:
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