Greetings, glorious adventurers! If you're joining in our Alpha One spot testing, please follow the steps here to see all the latest test info on our forums and Discord!

A predator walks in the Tavern

The wind kicks leaves across the cobbled roads and kisses the fur on his mane as he walks towards the familiar aroma of the local tavern. Looking side to side and observing all of the possible entrances and exits is just a common practice of his not because he needs a way to escape but because he wants to know where the prey is most likely to escape from. Pulling down his hood he makes his way into the tavern and pulls up a stool to the bar. Standing out among the sea of adventurers a 6ft+ Leonin Tulnar with sharp eyes and an even sharper wit. He motions over to the barkeep and drops a bag of gold on the bar, looks up, and growls in a low tone "A round for the tavern...it was a good hunt".

(Join in let's have a good time in the bar guys, introduce your characters, and let's chat. The link below is just the shortened YT vid of me coming up with the character.)


https://youtube.com/watch?v=8qJ6R0NOgVU&t=5s

Comments

  • MeatloafMeatloaf Member
    You seem to think that this is your basic tavern, another piece of your usual backdrop in yet another mundane town..and you are correct (mostly). You see with just a glance and I mean a glance; the kind of glance everyone gives the same street they walk down every day for the last decade, the kind of glance that simply accepts all things as long as they are not too out of the norm; yea with that kind of glance you would only see your typical tavern(and massive run-on sentence). This tavern however upon closer inspection reveals that the ordinary appearance is not so ordinary, the devil is in the details. The wood used in the construction of this bar is from lands further away from this cozy town than even the bards dare to spin into tales while working the crowds; from lands that when referenced are sprinkled with words like legend, myth, and "yea that place doesn't exist". You see, the owner of this tavern has long since retired from a life of gathering titles, treasures, and scars; he has retired from being who he once was and now only prefers to be called "Hey, another ale over here". So as you walk by this mundane scene, destined to let this tavern become just another blur in your peripheral vision, just give it another thought. I guess what this narrator is trying to say is,
    "Come on into Kegs Bane Keep, and share your story."
  • JanaosJanaos Member
    (Not good at this type of stuff but il give it a shot 😅)

    As the drinks our poured, and the spirits are lifted, the tavern starts livening up, the previously quite conversations, are magnified into a bustling cacophony of sound, that resonates around the tavern. Leonin Turner (assuming that’s his name) seemed to be the life of the party with a huge stream of Adventurers around him, such was to be expected, after all he had brought almost as many golden opinions as real gold to the the tavern. Boasting a successful adventuring career not many could stand up to, he was by far the most obvious ‘big-shot’ around. But the most dangerous people are rarely at the centre of the party.

    Among the continuously expanding crowds, not many managed to stand out. But such was not the case for Joarius, though not too tall in stature, it was his magnificent build that really raised eyebrows, the proportions, the size, all was on point with his chilled shape. He was the sort of figure that one could imagine some ancient statue being based upon. His brown eyes pierced the room searching for something, someone, in the warm light of the tavern they looked almost golden, full of energy, but also rich in wisdom. He wore light clothes, clothes that although didn’t posses fancy patters or marks, extorted a feeling of importance, of strength. To his left a short sword was covered by a similarly plain sheath, yet the handle, the only visible part, was greatly decorated with weird letters, or maybe numbers, really one had no way to tell for it was not a language that anyone knew. He sat there, carefully sipping beer, as one would sip maybe wine. He sat there sipping, still searching, uninterrupted by the load noises of those around him.
Sign In or Register to comment.