Fantasy: Those Unruly Folk

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Fantasy: Those Unruly Folk

Post by Popdart5 on Mon Jun 29, 2015 3:18 pm

High up in the foothills of Morrie’s Mountains, there lived a group of people for whom life was actually sort of okay. Sure it was cold in the winter months and they had to deal with some of the beasts and monsters that dwelt on the peaks but, aside from that, Morrie’s Mountains were quite nice. A nice little rocky outcropping gave the people who lived here a gorgeous view out over the valley below. The River Winfert coiled and snaked along the valley below and, on a good day, one could look down and see the Royal Highway following the Winfert with little coaches and wagons transporting all manner of goods and people from town to town. No one had ever seen the other side of Morrie's Mountains and no Dwarven tunnels had been dug through. Some people said it was a land of dreams and gods but others didn't really care.

The people who lived up here didn’t really have a name for themselves but someone had suggested that their little settlement should have a name. A lot of titles and names were thrown about before it was decided. Their town (a generous description at best) would henceforth be known as The Height. It was the only one that the newly-declared Heightlanders could agree on.

That was three generations ago, when the citizens of The Height numbered barely more than fifty. Since then, more people have come to join The Height with its reputedly lax laws and no taxes. They had come from all across the lands, from as far west as the Durant Enclaves of the desert and as far east as the port cities of the Jektar pirate lords on the edge of the Yuldarin Sea. Some had journeyed far to find a point of refuge, others because they didn’t want to bother with polite society. One woman, Esma, said that she was the daughter of King Ovic of Podrom to the south and had run away from a horrendously ugly suitor. No one much believed Esma’s words but no one really cared either. That was just how these people were. Everyone lived as best they could without bothering with knowing all of the skeletons in each other’s’ closets.

Recently though, the mayor of Gillick, a small farming town in the low valley, seemed to have taken offence to the good people of this place. The Heightlanders apparently were part of the realm of Duke Besteron and apparently had to provide taxes or some such. Needless to say, the Heightlanders refused to submit to Mayor Niantha of Gillick and that had made her very angry. Some of the more recent visitors to The Height said that she was preparing to seize The Height by force, which made them laugh. It was such an outlandish notion that the Heightlanders considered the idea, and Niantha herself, to be nothing but a joke.

There was one who worried though. Grupo, one of the oldest Heightlanders and a second generation Kobold settler, was concerned about the future of the Height. He had heard that the Height had gained a reputation as being a lawless den of ill-repute, filled with criminals and brigands and other miscreants. He didn’t deny any of that but he worried that it would create undue attention, particularly with Mayor Niantha’s raving attitude. Other things worried him too. The rocky outcrop which The Height occupied was becoming increasingly crowded and there was fast becoming no more room. Houses were being built on top of houses and more and more people were adding to The Height. Grupo had arranged for messages to be sent out, requesting the aid of Druids, Geomancers, artisans, and even thrice-cursed architects to come and help sustain The Height. They needed more room to grow and build and flourish.

Still, The Height had one thing that they would always have. They didn’t care what the outside world thought and they barely cared who or what their neighbours were. A more friendly and boisterous place you would likely never find anywhere else in the world. And the most unruly folk you will ever meet.


General Rules and Notes:


  • A relatively standard Fantasy world, filled with all of the expected Fantasy races. I'm not going to restrict any races and specific classes don't really exist so be literally whatever. That said, after your first post, could I please request a short, one-line spoiler at the end of your post that gives a brief idea of who and what your character is.
  • For The Height, imagine a very tightly clustered set of houses similar to Victorian-esque London in closeness with a lot of winding streets. It's on a rocky outcrop or mesa, similar to those you might have seen at the end of the first Hobbit movie.
  • For general technology, this is going to be an early Renaissance style of world, kind of like certain Final Fantasy games. There are things such as airships, primitive gunpowder, magical golems, etc. Magic is around all the time but, with enough training and/or natural skill, it can be manipulated to do almost whatever a person wants.
  • There is no overarching story at this point so feel free to take your characters wherever you want.
  • Please feel free to ask any questions.



Last edited by Popdart5 on Mon Jun 29, 2015 4:37 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Re: Fantasy: Those Unruly Folk

Post by Cowboy on Mon Jun 29, 2015 4:33 pm

Wondering a mere hour's walk from The Height was a half-orc of exceptional proportions. He had a darker tan than most and usually had his dreadlocks tied back with a simple leather strap. Over his muscular visage the journeyman wore an impressive set of hide armor covered by a leather cloak lined with furs. Looped to his belt was a war pick and a war hammer, and across his chest was a large coil of rope and the leather strap of his satchel which contained a lamp, oil, rations and a water skin. However, his most cherished possession was his lute, a rich lacquered cherry wood with horse hair strings. This was the traveler locals knew to be the road warden Garn.

Most in The Height would describe Garn as self-sufficient. Many even respected him for his work as the road warden between The Height and the Royal, despite the general careless attitude of the locals. With the roads safe, traders, as rare as they were, were able to come and go bringing the opportunity for coin with them.

Garn was an approachable individual, or at least he was compared to other half-orcs. He often stopped to converse with travelers and traders which made him privy to the news of the outside world. Garn would also tell wiry travelers to seek out the Clouded Peak Inn of The Height as a perfect refuge from the dark roads and cold nights. A simple act which was rewarded by Virgil Mane the owner of the Inn, who would give Garn a meal and a bed for free whenever he was in town

Garn had been patrolling the road for nearly four days and was nearing the end of his routine trip home to The Height.  

Garn Tornok:
Garn Tornok is a half orc warrior bard, who works as The Height's Road warden. Known by most in the 'town', Garn has learnt many things, some more useful than others. Garn was one of many results of orcish raids in the surrounding kingdoms and had come here as a child seeking acceptance. Hearty and Strangely Charismatic Garn has always felt a duty to those in need which is what brought him to serve as the Town's Road Warden.


Last edited by Cowboy on Thu Jul 02, 2015 6:09 pm; edited 2 times in total

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Re: Fantasy: Those Unruly Folk

Post by Comander.c on Tue Jun 30, 2015 12:57 am

Barnabas watched the mage with delight. The young caster was showing off his skills in the town center, using his skills to entertain a growing crowd. 

Barnabus stood up the front, his muddy Oder and bedraggled appearance leaving about a one meter gap between himself and the other onlookers. He did not mind tho, very few things phased him. 

Barnabus was a filthy person, alto he truly did not notice. He wore bedraggled robes that covered his wizened leather-worn craggy face and muddy dread-locked beard. He looked like he had never even seen water, let alone had a bath in his life. At a distance he could be mistaken for a Dwarf, with his large features, hands and Feet but proportionally short arms and legs around a stocky build. 

Up close however one noticed that at Five'foot'Nine He was just far to tall for a dwarf. He was only slightly taller than most of the villagers however. 

Most simply mistook him for a hobo, and ignored him other than to keep their distance. 

Barnabus did not mind, it took much to phase him. 

The magician however, that entertained him. Barnabas Loved magic. Altho he technically did not dream, or even sleep, he considered becoming a Mage to be his dream. He had even studied what little off it he could, among other things. Barnabus loved to read, and his gift with languages lent itself to making him something of a scholar, even if he had only been in the town for the past year he had found his way thru most of its written lore. 

Most library's would refuse the dirty looking man entry, that was until he showed them the gold he was willing to pay to read. He had done well to make friends with the town's gold lender. An actual dwarf who was about the only person who enjoyed his company. He was also rather fond of the Dwarf, Eidrick Goldhand, who payed him to act as security when he was transporting or otherwise dealing with larger sums of gold. 

Barnabas used his pay mostly to watch shows or read books. He loved stories, and learning in all its forms. He did not need food, or drink, or shelter, so he was able to spend his coin as he saw fit. 

As Barnabas watched the magician wrap up, take a bow and proceed to the tavern,  He found a nice looking unoccupied bench, and took a seat. 

It was a lovely day, clear sky's with not a cloud in sight. It reminded Barnabas of the first day he had seen, nigh on over a year ago now, when he had finally decided he could leave his masters sanctum. 

Since leaving, he had discovered what death was, and that his master was dead. He still recalled the last living moments of his master, tho he did not understand them as such at the time, those many many years ago now. His master came under attack, and so awoke Barnabas with the shem. The shem's command was hastily scribbled 'protect me', and Barnabas did. But it was too late, by the time Barnabas was awoken, his master was mortally wounded, and passed shortly after being saved. 

Without due course to do anything else, Barnabas has stayed true to his shem, and watched over his masters form for many years. In time it degraded and decomposed, and so eventually, after having exhausted the recorded knowledge of his masters sanctum, Barnabas collected the remains of his master and left to explore, whilst remaining true to his Order. 

Barnabas fiddled with the bag around his neck, and recalled again the command he was bonded too. He protected his masters remains still, and enjoyed a free life within the confines of such a simple obsolete command. 

Barnabas the Scholarly hobo. :
Barnabas is a Clay Golem Scholar. He wishes to learn magic, and is bound to protect his master (who's ashes are contained in the bag of holding around his neck). He is VERY inquisitive, and can be naive at times due to his complete lack of worldly experiences. He hates to fight, and will avoid it wherever possible, but the command to protect his master can drive him to protect himself with uncontrolled wrath if threatened.

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Re: Fantasy: Those Unruly Folk

Post by Popdart5 on Tue Jun 30, 2015 12:48 pm

It was close to noon on the fifth day of Irma and the weather was fine. A cool spring breeze gusted down from the peaks of Morrie’s Mountains and brought what winter chill remained on the snow-capped tops. A few of the street vendors shivered as they continued to ply their wares, selling small pieces of pottery and jewellery while others kindled small fires to char meat skewers of chicken and duck. Heightlanders and visitors crowded through the streets while some of the more daring locals scaled across the rooftops on makeshift swings and small gliders.

The long ramp leading up to The Height coiled around the rocky outcrop and provided a gentle incline for the merchants that brought their wares to the chaotic town. A stubborn ox was refusing to budge about three quarters of the way up the spiralling ascent and the carriage master whipped it and yelled obscenities at it to keep moving. Reluctantly, the ox continued upward, pulling a rather fine and stately looking carriage. Those who walked past it saw actual curtains hanging inside that provided privacy to whomever chose to travel in such a fashion. The locals didn’t care so much as to pry. One must have their secrets after all.

The magician, whom some called dim but others called marvellous, took a seat inside the Clouded Peak inn. The inn was packed with people enjoying a midday lunch with ale and drink flowing freely. Virgil, or Virgie as the locals called her, was swept off her swept by the number of people and the barman, a rather morose looking Dwarf by the name Kubrick, hauled out barrel after barrel of ale to quench their thirst. His thick, black beard was plaited and then pinned behind his ears, giving him the impression of a ram at times. ‘Horny’ Kubrick, as some of the more drunk patrons called him, dealt with the troublemakers and tossed them unceremoniously on the dirt outside the tavern.

A group of labourers sweated under the continually shining sun as they scaled down the side of the rock face. They were attached to a series of ropes and cables that was looped around the side of a heavy iron bar that had been hammered into the solid earth above them. These men and women were abseiling, for want of a better word, while carefully hammering and chiselling to rock face. Two of them held a large drill while another turned the crank, slowly boring into the earth. Dust and rock chips showered down onto the spiralling path below, causing an angry shout from the carriage master with the recalcitrant ox. On the surface though, another set of labourers were carefully manoeuvring a crane into position, ready to haul the massive logs that would be embedded into the rock face. This would be a fine place for a house one day, thought one of the workers as the gears on the crane began turning and the first wooden log began to descend down to the workmen and women.
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Re: Fantasy: Those Unruly Folk

Post by Cowboy on Tue Jun 30, 2015 5:05 pm

Garn had eventually trudged into town has he had done so many times before. Like clock work, vendors whose stalls he frequented and locals who he would regularly cross paths with gave greeting to varying degree, from a simple nod to passing small talk. The Height was constantly changing, each time Garn would return from a patrol something would have moved, or something new entirely would have been constructed. A novelty that Garn welcomed into his otherwise routine life. With the exception of the occasional highway robber or vicious predator Garn's life could be summed up rather harshly as a daily hike, walked along the same road, seeing the same trees, drinking from the same river. The short of it was, The Height's development was the only real thing Garn could rely on to change.

Garn's stroll along the twisting streets was eventually halted by the commotion on the upper road. A coach, a demeaning term for a possession of such extravagance, had stopped center file as other travelers began to collect behind the blockade. Garn rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. He could leave this to the local enforcers, but then, this was still technically a road under his watch. As Garn passed a stall he placed several coppers before the merchant and offered a greeting.

"Marsh" Garn nodded with a half smile at the food vendor, before taking a handful of carrots.

"Ah Garn. You'll be sorting that then?" Marsh gestured with a wave of his hand towards the stalled wagon ahead.

"Another day, another duty" Garn called back as he walked on.

Garn maneuvered past the Carriage to the fore where the driver had taken to a heated discussion with the construction project's task master, Thagan Loch. Thagan was Eidrick's business partner who dealt with the practical side of their ventures while Eidrick dealt with the finances. As Garn approached he could hear the argument between the Driver and Thagan.

"This is a construction site sir, productivity won't be stopped for you and your patron simply because your beast is startled by light debris."

"Master Dwarf, surely a few moments allowing for our passage is not such a disposition."

Before the Dwarf could rebut the flustered Driver's negotiations, Garn stepped in.

"Now I know you aren't deliberately causing a blockade on the upper road Thagan. I leave town for a few days and you start littering the main roads with stone and rock, holding up your fellows. If this is the welcome we show guests who travel in obvious excess, how is this town going to prosper further. Besides, don't think I don't know you frequently deprive your workers of reasonable break periods. Far be it from me to tell a fine task master such as yourself how to do his job, but from where I stand this cart needs to move and your boys could do with a short break."

Garn was never sure weather his diplomatic success was due to his naturally intimidating visage or his legitimate authority as The Height's road warden. All he knew for certain was, if it concerned to roads, people always came to see things from his perspective.

Thagan let out a huff to accompany his frown, all the while making eye contact with Garn's unyielding stare. After a few awkward moments, Thagan gave the work order to the laborers to take a momentary rest. Garn smiled with stern satisfaction before turning to the driver.

"Right sir, it's is time for you to make action of your responsibilities here. Mount your wagon, I will lead you past the site and you'll be on your way."

Garn stepped to the Ox with a considered approach. He introduced himself to the beast as one would to an animal while the driver took his position. Once readied, Garn removed the carrots from his coat pocket and began leading the Ox forward, periodically rewarding the beast. Eventually the cart had passed beyond the work site and without hesitation Thagan called the laborers back into action. Garn gave a respectful nod to the driver before continuing his stroll that would find him in the humble hall of the Clouded Peak.

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Re: Fantasy: Those Unruly Folk

Post by Comander.c on Tue Jun 30, 2015 9:09 pm

Barnabas ceased his contemplation and got up. He had resolved to talk to the mage, and request an apprenticeship.

He got up, and began navigating the crowded streets to the Clouded Peak.

When he arrived, he had expected to be refused entry until he showed his coin. Instead, he arrived in time to see Kubrick throwing out a pair of mischievous looking goblins. "Sod off!" The dwarf yelled, before noticing the Bedraggled looking Barnabas. "Well well, if it isn't Eidricks man?" The Dwarf spoke with a friendly familiarity that was Unexpected.

"His man? I help him with his work and consider him a friend, but I do not belong to him" Barnabas replied rather confusedly in his slow deep voice. "I am Barnabas' Man, and Barnabas is what people call me."

He was not sure why the Dwarf laughed so merrily at this, but he smiled along as he found was usually the correct reaction. "Hah! Your as much an oddball as he says! Eidrick is me cousin, and I am Kubrick. Come in me lad, any friend O' Eidrick is welcome in the Clouded Peak!"

Barnabas followed the Dward inside, and found himself a solid looking seat, while he contemplated what to say to the magician. "Get that big lug some Trollgut! First try's on the house!" The Dwarf said with a sly wink, and trotted off to tend his business before Barnabas could try decline.

Virgie gave the dwarf a look of bewilderment, but he was gone before she could object.

A few minutes later, Vergie rocked up with a Lead lined bottle marked with a skull and crossbones. "Do'no what the old lug is playing at, but fair warning. This stuff is made by trolls, from trolls, for trolls. It'l melt yer stomach out yer arse. That ain't a euphemism neither. It will literally kill yer." And with that she deposited the bottle, and ran off to the next table.

Barnabas belatedly replied "But I don't drink... Literally." But it was too late.


Last edited by Comander.c on Thu Jul 02, 2015 5:45 pm; edited 1 time in total

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Re: Fantasy: Those Unruly Folk

Post by Cowboy on Tue Jun 30, 2015 10:28 pm

The orange shades of the setting sun glazed The Height in golden hues. The afternoon had begun and Garn had finally reached the Clouded Peak. He traversed the stone carved steps and passed though the open arch as it lead him into the rocky burrow. The warmth of the hearth comforted Garn as he entered the humble hall. A large central fire pit was filled with hot embers and coals. Surrounding the pit was the hall tables, each filled to varying capacities with happy patrons.

Garn began to remove his traveling gear when Virgie found him. Her beauty was subtle and her words were always softer than usual towards Garn.

"You said you'd be back earlier. What, did you get lost on the single road you've been walking up and down for the better part of your life."

Garn gave a short amused huff, "I missed you Virgie."

The two wondered over to the bar, Garn perched on a high stool while Virgie circled around. She called to the kitchen hands asking for a hot meal then proceeded to pour a drink of their house ale. "So, any news from the Royal Road?" Virgie asked with genuine curiosity.

Garn glanced over the rim of his tankard as he took a long sip of his ale. "Nothing of any real note, winter festivals and dead lords. Though it has become common talk among the herders and farmers in the lower region that the Mayor of Gillick has a bone to pick with The Height. Gods no why... Hells, weight long enough and we might actually fall from our lofty nest. It seems every time I come home the town has grown. Goldhand and Loch have been working over time these past years, or at least their workers have." Garn paused to recall the extravagant carriage that had blocked the upper road in town. "Say, I don't suppose you know who was rolling around in the pretty cart that came into town today?"

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Re: Fantasy: Those Unruly Folk

Post by Comander.c on Tue Jun 30, 2015 11:51 pm

Barnabas got up. 

He nervously walked over to the table where the Magician was trying, rather successfully according to appearances, to seduce a strange feminine creature with a reptile-leather body, and Snakes for hair. 

As Barnabas noticed the way she was wearing reflective sunglasses, indoor, at night, he concluded she must be a Gorgon. It was hard to be sure, most meaty people really did look the same. 

Barnabas approached the two, and introduced himself, as formally and politely as possible. "Greeting's Sir Mage. I am known as Barnabas, and very much enjoyed today's performance. Pray tell, Where or how did you learn to perform such wonders?"

The mage had ignored the Brawny figure as he approached, but Barnabas' direct introduction had gotten his attention. The mage gave a sleazy wink to the Gorgon, and cleared his throat before replying. 

"What? You want an autograph or som'n? **!!@! Off!" And with his rebuttal established, the Magician returned to his activity. 

Barnabas was gobsmacked.. No story he ever read had gone like that! He mumbled a meek "Good day sir", and the Magician waved goodbye by way of a presentation of the index finger. 

As he set himself back down to his table, feeling like his hopes and dreams were crushed, Barnabas' decided to either end it all, Or drown his sorrows. Looking back, he was not sure which, as far as he knew, neither was really possible for him. None the less, he downed the Skull and Crossbones marked bottle in a single draught.


Last edited by Comander.c on Thu Jul 02, 2015 5:46 pm; edited 1 time in total

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Re: Fantasy: Those Unruly Folk

Post by Popdart5 on Wed Jul 01, 2015 1:19 pm

Virgie arched her back as she stretched, feeling the hustle and bustle of the day start to press down on her. She shook her head to ward off the fatigue which caused her shrub of brown curls on her hair to go all amok.  “Can’t say I had the chance,” she said in response to Garn’s question, “though there can’t be many places they’d have gone. Must have stopped by the stables though.” Virgie turned back as the kitchen hand, a nice young lizardman called Zoark, placed a simple wooden plate filled with beans, potatoes, and a nice cut of charred beef on the counter. She twirled around and scooped it up before laying it in front of Garn. “Extra gravy, just how you like it,” she said with a wink.

* * * *

The gorgon slowly coiled her tail around the man’s leg as he began to get more and more drunk. He was an interesting man and very, very good looking with the right amount of dashing good looks and long, black hair mixed with rugged and tanned features. She almost didn’t believe him when he said he was a magician. If he was also half as gifted as he said he was, then she was more than interested. Eventually, about seven drinks past tipsy, the mage leaned over and whispered something that made her laugh. She kissed him gently on the cheek and let him escort her out of the Clouded Peak. As she glanced behind her, she saw the odd, dishevelled man that had approached them earlier. Three large bottles sat on the table in front of him but he seemed to be okay. Her attention was brought back to her escort as he nearly twisted an ankle navigating the steps leading out of the inn. She helped him balance and rested her head on his shoulder, feeling him shiver from one of her hairs slithering across his neck. Tonight would be very interesting.

* * * *

Eidrick Goldhand had his feet up on the oak desk when Thagan clattered in and wiped his feet roughly on the mat by the door.

I trust it was a good day?” Eidrick asked as he sat more formally at his desk. “Tell me you’ve got the coin.

Aye, aye,” Thagan responded as he plonked a small bag on the desk before taking his seat opposite Eidrick, “though the workers are getting a bit grabby. Might have to pay them more soon.

Eidrick harrumphed as he began to stack the pieces of gold on his desk. “Once they’re done with this project we might give them a little bonus. Until then though…” he trailed off as he didn’t need to finish the point.

Thagan fished out a small pipe and struck a match before he began to puff. “Oh, just so you know, there’s a Matron in town,” he said as he blew a small stream of smoke.

The bag of gold that Eidrick had been handling spilled out onto the table as he dropped it. “Are you certain?” he asked with a look of concern.

Aye, saw the carriage ride in this morning. No marks or anything but one of the stablehands told me that he saw the old lady when they pulled in. No idea where she went from there though.

The stacks of gold on the desk suddenly seemed so much more fragile than Eidrick had first thought. “Well, that’s going to be nothing but trouble. Let Bregor know she’s in and keep an eye out. Can’t have her pulling a fast one on us.

Thagan blew another stream of smoke out into the air. “Already covered it cousin.


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Do you want me to use a different colour for the text? I'm uncertain if it's easy to read or not for everyone.
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Re: Fantasy: Those Unruly Folk

Post by Cowboy on Wed Jul 01, 2015 5:09 pm

Garn demolished his hot meal. It was a welcome change from the dried meats, fruits and nuts that his trail rations were made of. Sure, now and then he would catch an kill a rabbit or lizard, but in comparison even charred mutton was a luxury.

Garn returned a mischievous smile and a nod in response to Virgie's wink, which she saw before hurling herself back into the service of the other patrons. As Garn polished off his meal a rosy cheeked man seated among his fellows by the fire pit discovered his presence. Without hesitation, the man bellowed loudly. "Garn! You old tusk-tooth, your back! How bouta song eh?"  

Garn tilted his head and looked over at Vergie who was returning from her tour of the hall, now burdened with empty tankards and plates. She glanced at Garn, unable to hid her growing fluster. Garn pressed his lips and took to his feet. "A song lads? I'd be honored, but in exchange a gentleman or two should will stay back and help me and the generous Vergie with the clean up."

The men roared in excitement, agreeing to the terms. Garn retrieved his fiddle and took his position before the audience. Vergie was smiling at Garn from across the room. She believed Garn belonged on the stage, bringing joy into the lives of others even for a fleeting moment. If she had it her way he would never leave the Clouded Peak inn, for other reasons as well as his musical talents. Garn caught her stare and gave a cunning smile. He began to play and the enchanting melodies filled the room. The musicians of the Clouded Peak recognized the song, smiled knowingly and began to play their instruments in time. Vergie heard the tune and smiled at Garn as if to say 'you bastard' as he began to sing.

"It was winter's Eve babe
In the Clouded Peak
An old man said to me, won't see another one
And then he sang a song
The Rare Old Mountain Tune
I turned my face away
And dreamed about you

Got on a lucky one
Came in eighteen to one
I've got a feeling
This year's for me and you
I hope the Winter's short
I love you baby
I can see a better time
When all our dreams come true"

Garn's lyrics were sung with a husky rasp, slow and ponderous, touching the souls of all the drunks in the hall. He let the tone hold for a moment after the last line and then played the next part of the local classic, igniting it with passion and honesty. It was now Vergie's part of the song, they had written it together many years ago, but the song always had away of taking them back and reflected a simpler time for all who listened.

"They've got carts big as bars
They've got rivers of gold
But the wind goes right through you
It's no place for the old
When you first took my hand
On a cold Winter's Eve
You promised me
Castles was waiting for me"

The crowed cheered, stomping and banging in time to the song. The reveled in the cherished song of The Height and young love. All were eager for the part that all enjoyed the most. Garn started and Vergie rebutted, she took to the stage and gave the duet her all. "You were handsome"

"You were pretty
Queen of New Belnar City", Garn sang back before that harmonized together.

"When the band finished playing
They howled out for more
The Bards was swinging,
All the drunks they were singing
We kissed on a corner
Then danced through the night

"The boys of the Yuldarin Sea
Still singing "Galway Bay"
And the bells are ringing out
For Summer's day "

The sung argument started again, to the crowd's delight. This time Vergie began and Garn Rebutted.

"You're a bum
You're a punk"

"You're an old hag on junk
Lying there almost dead on herbs in that bed"

"You scumbag, you maggot
You cheap lousy faggot"

Happy Winter your arse
I pray Gods it's our last"

The men and women of the Clouded peak loved the heatless abuse the two gave eachother. If nothing else they loved a good public roast, and what's more it was harmonized. The pair sung in unison again, this time the crowd joined.

"The boys of the Yuldarin Sea
Still singing "Galway Bay"
And the bells are ringing out
For Summer's day"

The last of the song was were most would cry, despite the lies would spout if they were asked. The song made a subtle shift in tone, and spoke to a hidden side of all enthralled. Garn started for the last time, and Vergie responded. "I could have been someone"

"Well so could anyone
You took my dreams from me
When I first found you"

"I kept them with me babe
I put them with my own
Can't make it all alone
I've built my dreams around you"

Vergie step close to Garn, her arm now around his resting on his shoulder as he sat playing. The crowd singing along now emotionally invested in the ending. The pair's voice joined as one once more for the final chorus.

"The boys of the Yuldarin Sea
Still singing "Galway Bay"
And the bells are ringing out
For Summer's day"



Last edited by Cowboy on Wed Feb 03, 2016 4:19 pm; edited 2 times in total

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Re: Fantasy: Those Unruly Folk

Post by Cowboy on Wed Jul 01, 2015 5:33 pm

Later that evening, several people stayed behind to help Garn, Virgie and the other staff of the Clouded Peak clean up. The work was done in half the time with twice as much laughter and fun. When the last of the volunteers wondered up stairs to the dorms or out the door in search of their homes, Garn made his way to his own room, but was stopped at the stairs. Virgie was standing on the first step leaning against the wall. She had a twinkle in her eye and a unyielding smile on her face. Garn leaned against the closest table and smiled back, then spoke with a coy tone in his voice. "Have you recently imposed a toll on the stairs me lady?"

Virgie pushed off the wall and stepped in close to Garn. She lingered for a moment and peck him on the cheek as she brushed against him. Virgie then walked to the doors at the back of the inn which led to a hall that attached to her home. She looked over her shoulder and spoke softly as she walked away.
"I don't have a spare room in the inn tonight."

She stepped through the doors into the next hall leaving Garn to put the pieces together. However, he did not need the time to discover the meaning of the proposal before him, quickly following after Virgie.


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Re: Fantasy: Those Unruly Folk

Post by Phia on Wed Jul 01, 2015 6:51 pm

"The boys of the Yuldarin Sea
Still singing "Galway Bay"
And the bells are ringing out
For Summer's day"


As the lasts notes of Garn's song gently died in the air Tsura felt them tug within her soul, the beauty of the moment overwhelmed her, giving way to the feeling she delighted in its creation, two voices joined in the art of emotion, they filled her with the sense of magic.

The patrons of the Clouded Peak turned to observe a boldly dressed Woman sing soothingly as she swayed around the large central fire pit.

"Sometimes you just want to go where nobody knows your name..."

With the completion of each lyric the Woman's skirts swirled dangerously close to the embers casting shadows along her long lean body, as her ankles and wrists rang with the tinkle of bells she drunkenly raised her voice and continued.

"And they're always glad you came,
You wanna be where you can see our troubles are all the same"


While the other surrounding happy patrons look on, she removed one of the many scarves draped over her and began twisting and turning it through the air with artist flourish. The Patrons raised the mugs whistling, chuckling and calling out encouragements as the fire light intensified slowly.

"Making your way in the world today takes everything you've got
Taking a break from all your worries, sure would help a lot
Wouldn't you like to get away?"


With a less than graceful stumble she fell depositing all 5 ft and 50kgs of red headed mess into the Hobo's lap.
The fire roared to new life as the crowd laughed and congratulated the Man "For the only touch he will ever get from a Gypsy woman!" and downed their mugs.

Face burning the shame, the Gypsy woman rose shakily to her feet as she smoothed out the hobo's clothes (hands deftly judging the contents of worth) and smiled embarrassingly.

"Sorry Mister, let buy for a meal as an apology."

Now in full light the Gypsy Woman looked like something that fell off a rainbow. With a flick of her bell adorn wrists, her teal green blouse straighten itself over the pulm skirts while yellow and orange scarves draped themselves over her hips as she reached inside her short navy vest for a coin. But none was paying attention to her clothes, as her face took on a unsightly shade of green she reached for the nearest patron's hat.

TSURA:
A traveling lone ( Sad ) Fey gypsy woman, may have some bad habits...
Abilities:psionic (buzz is emotions), talk to animals, illusions, shape shifting, control over nature and natural fibres.


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Re: Fantasy: Those Unruly Folk

Post by Comander.c on Wed Jul 01, 2015 9:11 pm

Barnabas drank the Trollgut ale. It was Bitter, with a coppery sweetness that he had not expected. More than this however, it Burned

But it was not an unpleasant Burn, Barnabas felt it slide warmly down his throat, and felt it curiously begin to spread throughout his body, first contained to his chest, then out to his extremity's. He felt soothed, and nourished. Relaxed as his worn skin actually began to smooth. Altho he could not tell, he actually began to look ten years younger, putting him from an Aged Ninety year old, to a dirty looking man in his Late seventies. 

"This is Fantastic" He exclaimed out loud. Seeking out the waitress, he found her to be singing a tune along with some strange half-breed man. Barnabas felt he had not time to stop and listen, and pushed his way to the bar. "More of.. This!" he said, brandishing the bottle. "And keep it coming." He said, a big friendly grin on his face, as he placed down far more gold than was actually necessary. 

With a fresh bottle, he sat back down at his dirt stained seat, and enjoyed the Song with the rest of the bar. By the time the song was done, he had finished his bottle and was just enjoying a third, now looking to be in his Sixties by human standards. 

As the two singers set about their business, Barnabas gazed around the bars on-goings. He had been in the town a year, but had neglected to visit any such establishment due to lack of interest. He knew he need not eat or drink. It had not even occurred to him till now that he even could. 

He rather enjoyed the jolly atmosphere of the Clouded Peak. He found it relaxing, and reminded him that there was a large world he had yet to know. There would be another who could teach him magic yet. 

Suddenly, he became aware of the figure gracefully twirling out of control in his general direction. 

Something in Barnabas reacted to the imminent collision, His limbs bunched in anticipation, his left arm swooping to clutch the bag about his neck. The girl careened into his lap, and he had to fight back a subconscious reflex to fling her away, the conscious part of his mind realizing that at her weight, that would hurt her greatly. His eyes flared a molten red, then calmed, as the woman who was clearly drunk, took loan of another's hat as a bucket. 

His protective urge dissipated as if it was never there, and with a gregarious smile he spoke "That was a Lovely dance!"


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Re: Fantasy: Those Unruly Folk

Post by Phia on Wed Jul 01, 2015 9:33 pm

"Ugh! That didn't mix with the buzz. horse dung!

Tsura swore amusingly in Slyvan as she handed the hat back to the patron and swung around the gaze at the Hobo.

I had been pleasantly buzzed until i had touched this clay encrusted creature.
Wait. Creature?
He did look human-ish, but his emotions did not fill her the way the singers had. Strange. Why was he ladened with so much gold and finery?
Humanoids were vain creatures that did not take joy in the earth's constant embrace.
A RIDDLE! How I love riddles. Perhaps he will tell what he is?

Placing her hands on her hips Tsura questioned the Hobo in Slyvan;

"Perhaps I should eat too, since I now am empty as well."


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Re: Fantasy: Those Unruly Folk

Post by Comander.c on Wed Jul 01, 2015 9:43 pm

Barnabas parsed the language in a moment, Slyvan. The woodland tongue. Spoken by fey, most practitioners of the druidic arts, and many elves. He responded in kind. 

"What is 'The buzz' Little one? I assure you despite common opinion, it is not Dung, Just dirt and clay."

To the effeminate creatures last comment Barnabas responded "What would you recommend? I have never eaten anything before, but i rather enjoy this Drinking thing, and would love to try food!". His voice was deep and melodic in the woodland language, and there was much joy in its tones.


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Re: Fantasy: Those Unruly Folk

Post by Phia on Wed Jul 01, 2015 9:58 pm

Tsura gasped! bouncing up and down.

"The buzz is a feeling you experience when you get happy from the feelings of others.
Why are you covered in clay? is it a new skin treatment by human women?"


Tsura comically snorted. Excitedly she continued pestering him.

"Your first food!?! You must try Parfait!!! It is the best dessert of all! Layers of the forests best fruits with layers of mammals cream! Wait. Where did you learn Slyvan?"


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Re: Fantasy: Those Unruly Folk

Post by Comander.c on Wed Jul 01, 2015 10:08 pm

"Parfait? Lead the way to this food thing then." Barnabas said with with an exited grin. 

As they got up and Tsura lead them to the food stall she knew sold Parfait. As they walked, they talked. 

"I know all languages. I never learned them, they simply are and so i understand them. It date's back to my creation i think, but cannot be sure. For the longest time, i wondered how people did not know some languages. Ohh, but i am being rude! Barnabas is what people call me, What is your name little one?"


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Re: Fantasy: Those Unruly Folk

Post by Phia on Wed Jul 01, 2015 10:21 pm

Tsura skipped through the market next to Barnabas, twisting through the crowd laughing as Barnabas strode straight with people scurrying out of his way.

"Barnabas, fine name!
I am Tsura, wandering gypsy, friend of Elendress creator of this towns most fabulous parfait.
But first my friendly Barnabas we must make you clean! We can not have you soiling Elendress pretty parlors with clay now, oh no!, you will need new robes too."


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Re: Fantasy: Those Unruly Folk

Post by Comander.c on Wed Jul 01, 2015 10:28 pm

Barnabas looked at his attire. The robes he had were only meant for modesty, and were the same ones he had been wearing when he awoke those many years ago. "Hmm, perhaps you are correct, Lady Tsura. I suppose these are looking rather tattered. And I've always wondered what Shoes would feel like. I have coin but have never shopped for clothing before." 

Barnabas seemed almost nervous, people tended to not like him in many establishments, only the towns Dwarfen family's having been the exception up until this chance encounter. 

"You have attired yourself in such a wonderful way, could you help find me something nice?"


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Re: Fantasy: Those Unruly Folk

Post by Phia on Wed Jul 01, 2015 11:11 pm

Tsura dropped Barnabas off at the happy duckling's soaking shingle bath house and proceed to thread market with a heavy bag of gold and a mischievous mindset.

Bartering was one of her favourite past times and with an almost unlimited purse Tsura MAY have brought a couple of extra things Barnabas did not exactly need;
- Loose cooper cotton pants
- Rust coloured tunic
- Gold-ish scarf belt
- Red vest
And most impulsively big metal hair rings as favoured by the dwarves for their hair.
Tsura could not wait to comb and braid his dreadlocks back into art.

Upon returning to the happy duckling's soaking shingle she handed over Barnabas new clothes to the attendants and wait patiently for him to get ready.

Not to be mistaken for sneaking glimpses of the private baths as the attendant rudely accused her of. Though the 5th bath did have a interesting couple in it doing....





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Re: Fantasy: Those Unruly Folk

Post by Comander.c on Thu Jul 02, 2015 12:56 am

Barnabas decidedly did not like the bath house. 

It was full of strange scents, but they were to muddled to realty appreciate. Everyone kept insisting he had to remove the bag around his neck, not just his clothing. And worst of all, It was wet, And they wanted him to submerge himself in water. 

Barnabas did not like water. It made him feel slick and wet, and ended up making almost everything difficult for a while after as his skin took on a greasy texture. Also, it was the cause of his appearance and smell being so close to that of a hobo. 

After a while Barnabas' quarrels with the staff managed to get the managers attention. An elderly Dwarvish lady named Aierduck, or just Duckling to those she liked. She swiftly sorted out the mess, insisting that for a small surcharge Barnabas could just use the oils and scraper to cleanse himself, and told him no one would touch his baggy again. She even let him call her Duckling, and she called him 'Red eyes' For some reason. 

When Tsura returned, Barnabas had just about finished scrubbing himself of excess dirt and grime, and had found a rather nice oil labeled "Firebloom venom" which instructed him to use it 'cautiously, with large quantity's of water' but he had found worked better liberally applied to the skin. He smelled strongly of chili peppers, And his dusty skin now looked smooth and even had a slight shine to it. It was slick, but not as much as water, as the Oil's did not mix with his skin, and he found the sensation to be rather enjoyable.  

One of the employees of the Happy Ducklings nervously informed Barnabas that Tsura had returned.

"Your.. um, err. Friend, Miz Tsura has returned, and err.. Awaits you in the entry... When you're ready"

"Tell her she is welcome to simply come hear, silly girl." Barnabas replied kindly.


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Re: Fantasy: Those Unruly Folk

Post by Popdart5 on Thu Jul 02, 2015 1:42 pm

Zoark was one of the last out of the Clouded Peak after it closed. Whatever Garn had said to convince the drunken revellers to pitch in and help worked a treat and Zoark was able to clock off early that night. He slurped the last of the gravy from the pot before ducking out the back, but not before spotting Garn hanging around for Miss Mane. He smiled inwardly as he quietly closed the door. They were certainly two doe-eyed lovebirds, he thought to himself.

The confusing twist of streets and alleyways were lovely at this time of night. Zoark ran his claws past his frill on his head as he slowly whistled in the mostly empty streets. A few scamps and hoodlums watched him from nooks and crannies that he paid no mind. Eventually he reached his home, a small apartment in the middle reaches of The Height. He glanced up and bade farewell to the sliver of moon that still hung in the sky. Tomorrow would be another day’s full of work for him; that was certain.

* * * *

Peuw!” Farin held her nose as she gagged. The bath stank and was slimy and just plain gross. That man that had come in must have been living in a toilet or something to smell this bad. And now she had to scrub it clean. Urk!

Of course it had to be the last customer of the night. Of course it bloody had to be. Farin tried to will her nose to stop working but it didn’t work.  She had to resort to stuffing two handkerchiefs up her nostrils to keep out the stench. She was going to need a bath herself after all this.

Are your Elven sensibilities struggling there Fari?” an elderly voice called out. Farin turned around quickly, almost slipping on the slime coated surface. Mrs Aierduck chuckled softly and squatted down to look at it more closely. “My, he was a filthy one, wasn’t he?

Too right he was Mrs Aierduck. And he didn’t even use the bath! Just wiped off all of the gunk into the water. It’s going to take me ages to get this all clean.” Farin threw her hands up in the air at the injustice of it all.

I wouldn’t worry about it too much Fari. In fact, why don’t we leave this one for a while?” Mrs Aierduck said with a twinkle in her eye. “I’ve been wanting to convert one of the baths for a while and that man gave me an idea.

Mrs Aierduck?” Farin wasn’t keeping up with whatever cogs were grinding in Mrs Aierduck’s head.

Hah, but it is late isn’t it?” Mrs Aierduck extended a hand towards Farin. “Why don’t  you get yourself cleaned up and head on home? I’ll take care of this.

Thank you very much Mrs Aierduck!” Farin eagerly took the offered hand and clambered out before quickly making her way to the staff area. She thought she heard Mrs Aierduck mutter something about ‘replacing the oil’ but frankly she was too happy to not have to deal with the stink pit. Home time, wooo!

* * * *

The Height never truly slept for even the night time was a chance for opportunity. At least, that’s what Cornelius thought. An expert pickpocket, or so he thought, Cornelius had practiced what he called ‘the art of being sneaky’. It involved him being very, very careful and not wearing any shoes. Those things had a nasty habit of squeaking at just the wrong time, which Cornelius knew from experience. He carefully touched the stump where the little finger on his left hand had been cruelly separated. That was a tale of caution that made Cornelius journey to The Height where even more lucrative opportunities presented themselves. It was enough to make the baggy-eyed human do a little jig.

Aha, a new mark, Cornelius thought as he spotted someone coming down the steps into the Shadow District. He watched the person carefully and couldn’t quite make out who they were. They were heavily covered by what looked like an old robe and the hood was hiding their face. The person was moving slowly, as if they might trip on any of the steps. They turned their head up and glanced at the moon and Cornelius caught sight of the person’s face. An old woman, probably human, this late at night? Too easy. Cornelius began slowly emerging from his hiding place, a small crack between the butcher and a cobbler’s on Tyril Avenue. It wasn’t much of an avenue but the locals liked it because it made them sound fancy.

Cornelius crept along on the cobblestone behind his mark, feeling the cold stone under his feet and the hairs stand up from the chill wind. He could see his prize, a small pouch strapped the old crone’s waist. He assumed it was a crone because little old ladies like his Nan didn’t stray out this late at night. Or at least that’s what he believed his Nan would have done. In truth, Cornelius never met his mother’s mother so he could only guess.

The old woman stopped suddenly at the top of another flight of steps down into the shadows and seemed to teeter on the edge, as if she was unsure whether to keep going. Cornelius thought that he had it in the bag and reached out his right hand for the pouch. Just a matter of pulling it from the string and vanishing into the shadows. Just like always.

Except Cornelius never laid a finger on the pouch. The woman moved fast, much too fast, and a stiletto blade embedded itself in Cornelius’ throat before he even realised. He gagged and tried to reach for his throat however the blade whipped out again and sliced a clean line across, making a very macabre cross across his Adam’s apple. Cornelius fell forward, collapsing down the stairs and tumbled into a heap, leaving splotches of crimson blood on the stairs. His ears faintly registered the sound of the woman walking down the stairs as his life drained out of him. The last thing he felt was the robe enveloping him. It was itchy.
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Re: Fantasy: Those Unruly Folk

Post by Cowboy on Thu Jul 02, 2015 3:05 pm

Morning came and The Height stirred, the hustle and bustle of daily life breathing new life into another day. Garn awoke to the simple comforts of Virgie's home. He rolled into a seated position at the end of the bed. Garn glanced back at Virgie who was still asleep, the morning sun warming her exposed skin. Garn smiled as he stood up and got dressed. He wondered over to his satchel and removed a necklace made from a platted leather cord decorated with whittled wooden tokens. He placed the necklace on the pillow beside Virgie, collected his things and left the Clouded Peak. As he stepped out, the town marshal was walking by accompanied by he deputies.

The marshal was a square jawed tiefling with a muscular build, and was taller than most. His wore his long dark hair in plats which were draped over his shoulders clapped in steel hair rings. The Marshal spotted Garn and immediately stopped, his human deputies halting in behind him. The Marshal offered his hand for a hard shake before engaging Garn in conversation.

"Garn! I didn't realized you were back. I'm glad we crossed paths. I have a problem, some nasty business occurred last night down on Tyril Avenue and your opinion would be welcome."

Garn released the Marshal's arm from the greeting gesture and straightened his posture to reflect the Marshal's.

"I suppose I have a spare moment Kjel."

Garn brushed his hands over his weapons and tools, physically taking inventory. Satisfied he had all he needed, Garn moved from the Clouded Peak's threshold walked beside Marshal Kjel as the navigated to winding streets of The Height. As the walked Kjel took the opportunity to strike up a conversation with his chosen Road Warden. "So, any news from the Royal?"

Garn glanced at Kjel before returning his focus to the path ahead. "None of value. Though the traders and travelers in the know share concerning rumors."

Kjel arch one eyebrow to accompany his concise question. "Rumor?"

Garn continued as they shuffled by the crowds of the narrow streets, who despite their best efforts, were still in the way of the lawful entourage. "apparently the Mayor of Gillick is mustering warriors, dropping coin in the pockets of mercenary clans, planning an attack on The Height. I had thought nothing of it, but those using the lowland roads these last few days were traveling in numbers, well armed."

Kjel pressed his lips before letting out a sigh. "These rumors might not be as falsely founded as we might have thought."

The two nodded in agreement as they arrived at the intended destination. Garn perused the scene. Blood had pooled and for the most part dried. Foreboding blood patches were blotted on each step of the narrow stair. At the bottom, twisted and lifeless was a corpse of a street urchin. bear foot and barely clothed enough to cope with the chilled mountain air.

Garn grunted. "Do we know who he is?"

Kjel shook his head. "A street rat. Pickpocket, putting his hands where they shouldn't be."

Garn continued. "Did anyone see anything?"

Kjel swayed his head, not committing to a straight answer. "The deputies first on the scene have pulled a few people aside, though we are in the Shadow District. Most have a strange way of loosing their memory and those who don't generally keep a stiff upper lip."

Garn looked over the group of so called witnesses.

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Re: Fantasy: Those Unruly Folk

Post by Phia on Thu Jul 02, 2015 5:31 pm

Tsura yawned. Stretching luxuriously through the piles of satin throw rugs and bulbous cushions she eased herself into a sitting position.

Elendress's parlour was a thing to behold! Gently lit lamps of different colours hung from the domed ceiling over low circular tables surrounded by cushions. The walls were graced with art from around the world, simple but beautiful pieces, gifts from many a friendly traveler.

Light was filtering through the artist wooden screens covering the windows when Tsura caught sight of Barnabas, tucked away in the cover surrounded by the head chefs cooking books the creature looked like he hadn't slept all night. He clothes already looked slightly worse for wear.

Tursa chuckled fondly as she remembered the scene from last night in the happy duckling's soaking shingle bath house. A nervous attendant had escorted her into his bathroom as he paraded around naked turning his arms before the light admiring their new shine.  

"A Sir... you were meant to... umm... put on the robe... before I escorted the Miz in." The nervous attendant stuttered red faced.

Both Baranabas and Tsura looked at him puzzled and questioned in unison "Why?"

The attendant fled as Tsura shrugged.

"Human's have weird ideas sometimes. But what can you expect from evolved apes? I have your new clothes here."
She continued smiling cunningly.
"I chose earth colours to go with your flesh and accessories to help you pass for a mountain born. All in all it was fun!

She hung the clothes from hooks on the wall as she explained each items uses and region of creation.  

"These loose cooper cotton pants tie on the side here, it should contain your bulk, it's the favoured clothing of eastern travellers as it's easy to adjust on the road. This rust coloured tunic is made by a Dwarf, he gave me a deal for hair rings as well! Or at least he said it was, but the rust colour will make your flesh tone seem more brown to pass among humans easier. I couldn't resist this gold-ish scarf belt it's like my scarfs! and will emphasize your impressive bulk. Lastly you need a sturdy red vest, it's Orcish so it has plenty of pockets and he said something about 'it goes faster'? but I can't imagine where.

Tursa rubbed oil into Barnabas' deadlocks as she coiled them back into several low ponytails and secured them with the dwarvish hair rings. He looked rather good and Elendress seem to think so too as she welcomed them into her parlour.

"Welcome to my Parlour friends, here you may sample my talents! and after completing them exchange a gift from your travels of equal value." Elendress explained.

"By which scale of value would you like us to use?" Barnabas inquired politely.

"Any you see fit dapper Sir! Just leave me a token of the world for my walls is all i ask!"With this Elendress escorted them to a table.

If only she had not consumed so much perhaps she could have remembered how the rest of the night had went...


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Re: Fantasy: Those Unruly Folk

Post by Comander.c on Thu Jul 02, 2015 11:48 pm

"... And that, is the Legend of the Creation according to the Khazad Dawi, or Mountain Dwarves" Barnabas concluded to an applause from the Elf Elendress.

"Wonderful!" she said. "Such a token is greatly received in payment for your meal. I've not heard a tale told in such exacting detail before! But i'm afraid we have rather burnt the midnight oil." The elf Elegantly indicated Tsura, comfortably napping with an assortment of pillows arrayed around her like scattered foliage. 

"Thank you, gracious host. I rather enjoyed having an audience with the patience to listen in one sitting." He responded. 

"It is the way my people prefer to see it done, for we are long lived and sleep little. But the world turns to clock of mortals, and i must prepare my business for the morning crowd. Why don't you make yourself conformable. You can peruse my collection of culinary lore whilst you await your partner to wake." Elendress gave a small bow, and excused herself.

Barnabas spent the next few hours reading recipes and learning of hundreds of new food's, and he resolved to try each and every one of them. 

When Tsura finally awoke with a yawn, Barnabas had just finished reading about a lovley kind of dessert called 'tiramisu', Which he had decided was next on his list of desserts. For now however, he craved to try different kinds of foods. 

"Good morning Lady Tsura" He said in his deep voice and a blissful grin. "I have heard the Cloudy Peak does wonderful breakfasts, will you escort be back and continue to serve as my culinary guide?"

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Re: Fantasy: Those Unruly Folk

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