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  1. #11
    Newcomer

    EXP: 928, Level: 1
    Level completed: 47%, EXP required for next Level: 1,072
    Level completed: 47%,
    EXP required for next Level: 1,072



    GP
    825

    Name
    Romis Heartsblood
    Age
    470ish
    Race
    dragon
    Gender
    male
    Location
    Corone
    In short order the food Romis had ordered came to their table and he dug in with appetite. The smells drifting throughout the room had only served to increase his appetite. By the time it was actually sitting in front of him he was more than ready to eat. Stella on the other hand, was always a bit more dainty, even when extremely hungry. She daintly ate her food as they listened to the tail end of the story from the stage and politely clapped along as it ended.

    Looking around, she took a curious interest in the large wolf-like creature at another table and the small, blond boy it seemed to be accompanying. As she took in the rest of the people at said table her eyes widened at the size of the big man. To her eyes he was a giant. She’d never seen a human so big as this man. Soon enough though, she drew her attention back to her companion and their current “mission.”

    “So Romis, any ideas of where to start now that we’re in Radasanth?”

    The big dragon-man wiped his lips on a napkin before answering, “Not really, Stella. We don’t have much to go on. I don’t have the faintest idea what kind of gifts this oracle, or whatever it is, would find worthy of her answers.”

    Stella was quiet for a moment, her face squinched up and to the side a bit in thought, “Earth, air and water are basic elements. No matter what we choose, I can take it home for safekeeping until you find the Oracle. If we get something living or particularly delicate, then we won’t need to worry about how it will survive the trek to the far north.”

    The dragon chuckled softly, “I kind of figured you would say that, so I wasn’t exactly worried about how to get the gifts there. I’m far more worried about the ‘what’ than the ‘how’ right now, Stella.

    “Yeah, but sometimes it’s nice to get a detail properly sorted, even if it’s not presently the most important one.”
    Major NPC: Stella Darkfire

    Stella MAY NOT be used by others without permission.

  2. #12
    Senior Member

    EXP: 61,139, Level: 10
    Level completed: 65%, EXP required for next Level: 3,861
    Level completed: 65%,
    EXP required for next Level: 3,861


    Nevin's Avatar

    GP
    3,657

    Name
    Nevin Aimaparapoiitis
    Age
    22 / 37
    Race
    Human (Godling)
    Gender
    Male
    Location
    Corone
    Nevin sat back from his notes, setting the pencil atop the paper as he rubbed the back of one hand as he tried to work out the cramp that had developed. It was only then that he blinked and realized his quiet little spot wasn't anywhere near as isolated as it had been when he sat down. The first person he noticed was the large, very, very large, man sitting beside him. The man gave him a pleasant smile - and sweet Crimson he was big, wasn't he? Obviously not a full human, this man beside him, was he part ogre or part giant? Nevin's fingers itched to jot down ideas about how to treat issues this man might face - much more concentrated serums would be needed, as his larger frame would necessitate powerful potions. But that was when Nevin noticed who else was at the table.

    "Fenn. Daugi. Hello there." He nodded to each of them as he said their names. Surprising enough, he thought, to see the two of them in here. For someone who claimed to live in the 'everywhere' Nevin ran into the small blonde fairly frequently. He raised an eyebrow at the 'child'. I hope you haven't been causing too much trouble recently?" He picked up his mug and sipped at it, slowly closing his notebook. If he drew the Fae's attention to it, that would be bad - he did not need the sticky-fingered individual to try pilfering a partially completed 'bible'. No, that way lay trouble and strife. He could already imagine Fenn trying to sell it to someone as the 'secrets to increasing virility' or some such nonsense.
    - "We are born of the blood, made men by the blood, undone by the blood; Fear the old blood."

    Nevin: Formal, thoughtful, nurturing, bearer of tropey tentacles.

    "More threads! More! Threads for the Crimson Thread King!"
    A member of the NevCrew:
    Nevin: Thread count: please, don't try.
    Erik: Thread count: five or six. Maybe seven...
    Huntsman: seven. Maybe eight. Shhhhhhh.
    Telli' thread count: zero. I just can't get into writing the little hellion.
    Ronnel: Not even approved yet.

  3. #13
    Member

    EXP: 2,785, Level: 2
    Level completed: 27%, EXP required for next Level: 2,215
    Level completed: 27%,
    EXP required for next Level: 2,215



    GP
    250

    Name
    Jacques
    Location
    Corone
    [spoiler] Sorry for the delay! Forgot about this D: [/spoiler]

    Jacques shook his head, having gotten distracted by the storyteller and the various clients of his demanding his attention. Now that things were for the most part fairly calm, he stepped back from the bar, leaning on the shelf behind him and sipping a tankard of some imported ale. The sweet yet pungent taste of the brew assaulted his mouth in a pleasant sort of way, hitting that sweet spot of perfect taste.

    A man stumbled up to the counter, slamming down his empty tankard and dumping a handful of miscellaneous coins in front of Jacques. He shuddered, then swallowed down a mouthful of something foul-smelling. "Drink.. S'more ah tha' drink" the man slurred, wavering on his feet. His eyes were unfocused, and he looked almost as if he was about to vomit. Jacques pushed the coins back towards the man.

    "Nah, no more for you. I may be here to serve drinks, but you're out for the night mate." Jacques said, jerking his chin towards the door. The drunk looked confused for a moment before scowling. "Out, out. Before I have to resort to more desperate measures." Jacques retorted, thumbing the rather imposing looking pommel of a knife resting on the counter behind the bar. The drunk cursed and spat in Jacques' direction before tripping his way to the door and stumbling out into the street. As the door swung shut, a retching sound could be heard, the acrid scent of bile spilling into the tavern for the briefest of moments before it was washed away once more by the scent of the smoke of the fires and the savory smell of stews and soup. Jacques huffed, shaking his head.

    He glanced up, eyes wandering around the tavern, settling on the sight of the child and his... dog? The bartender chuckled. Whatever it was, it seemed friendly enough. The scholarly man had struck up a conversation with the boy and they seemed to be generally contented. John had been feeding the massive beast that followed the boy around. Jacques nodded, approving of all goings on. The dancing light of the oil lamps hanging above his patron’s heads reflected off the metal and varnished wood, illuminating the bar in a warm glow. Jacques smiled.

    The bartender chuckled to himself as he thought of an idea. He grabbed a cord above his head and gave it a tug, ringing a bell hung up in the rafters. The clear, dull tone echoed through the room, calling the attention of everybody. As the tavern fell into silence, Jacques raised his voice.

    “To those willing and daring, I present a challenge.” He held up two massive wooden tankards, wrapped with an iron band. “These tankards will hold their worth of ale. First to down it all wins drinks for a week, on the house! All are welcome, excluding certain ones of us who happen to be giants who casually down a bottle of whiskey in thirty minutes.” Jacques continued, pointedly staring at John.

    “So come. Let’s see who’s up for it.”
    "By the gods, fear it, Laurence..."
    -Master Willem

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