[Game Thread] Scene 1: The Legends Converge...

[Aosaw]

"Goblins?" Joshua tapped his chin a few times, thought, raised his finger in revelation, shook his head in disappointment, and finally shrugged. "I don't know what a goblin is. Do you perhaps mean people from the kingdom of Magog? Where I come from, we call them Ethiopians, and we certainly don't kill them." He shuddered at the thought.

What does this boy take us for? he thought. Romans?

[Zhefonyll]

Kev regards Robin and Joshua with suspicion.
"I don't want to practice with a bow, I want to shoot fire out of my hands or do that glowy thing that spills everybody's drinks! And who's Magog? You guys can't not know what a goblin is, you just can't. They're little green men, but not men, and they're totally bad guys. They're all over the place, and have been for some time now. How did you get here if you didn't fight goblins on your way?"

"Say, and how did you get born to Mary without sin? Did she get an Atonement right before you were born?

As the boy stares at the group, waiting for answers, Natalya makes her way back. Apparently, she has been working the tables for years, because she balances the tray full of plates and drinks quite adeptly. She places a pitcher of juice near the center of the table - orange juice, from the smell - and plates full of eggs, bacon, and sausage go in front of each of the group (but not Kev). Robin's plate also contains salted pork and a small serving of strawberries.

She seems somewhat annoyed to see the little boy at the table, and her voice has the tone that only those who frequently deal with children seem to perfect. "Kev, go bother somebody else. These folks need to eat their breakfast." Then the words become less stern. "You'll have to forgive him, it's been a rough time for us out in the frontier lands. Too much has been going wrong in the lands of late."

[Amy]

D'Artagnan tipped his wide farmer's hat back with a pluck of his right-hand index finger, pulling a Maine Gauche from his belt at the same time. Complete with decorative scabbard and gilded hand-guard, the long knife was set upon the tabletop with a *thunk*. "Goblins indeed! And you, sir, to tell me that pots must speak is lunacy! Is there no one with a sane bent in this whole tavern?"

.

[Kainti]

A perky, irate, and scruff voice, the scruffness as if from years of smoke inhalation, flowed forth unnaturally from the Gauche. "Ngk-uh!? What? Who're we fighting? Time to die you bastards of the-! Who're-...what? There's an...old man with the oddest beard, and...hey she's good looking, and so's he." Not that there was anything to imply where the sword was looking, it still felt as if he was suggesting one's self with his awkward and sexually charged grumblings. "Is that sausage? Please don't cut your food with me again."

A moment of silence passed as the sword's voice retracted to speak solely to D'artagnan. The Gauche asked, "So i'll ask you nicely D'art, and then i'll start (oh I don't know) singing, what in the hell is going on here?" The gauche began to run through his mental checklist of birthday and holiday songs in an attempt trying to recall the one in which the death of a family member is metaphrocially objected to, the crenellation of the new castle the lucky offspring will inherit represents their regrets, and oral sex.

[Amy]

Fluidly the duelist picks up his sidearm and stares directly at it. "Why can't you take a hint like anyone with a handful of brains would? I take you out to better assess the situation and you go off rambling like someone stuck you in a wild boar. If ever I had a cheating card up my sleeve it is now gone, I dare say."

Frustrated, he places the sword back on the table with less delicacy than before.

[Kainti]

Following the clank of itself bouncing on the table the sword roars it's opinion directly into D'artagnan's skull. "Well, you idiot, maybe you could have communicated such a thing through our telepathic link! You know, that way I could have been aware of your 'cunning plan' to assess the fact that you're in a goddamn bar, you pink-bellied sack of fat hips!"

Outwardly the sword grumbled like a spoiled and obese child who just had his dessert taken away.

[Embrodak]

Tim pays no heed to the frilly dressed man and his strange sword. Instead he picks up a fork and begins to move the choicest cuts of meats to his plate. With a flick of his wrist and a quick unintelligent word the Pitcher of juice rises from the table and on its own proceeds to pour the orange pulpy liquid into the mug before Tim. He then with but a thought directs it to pour the juice into the goblets of each of his breakfast companions. With a wave the pitcher floats back down to the surface of the table.

Tim pieces a large sausage with his fork, raises it his lips and bites into it. Juice runs down from the corner of his mouth and settles into his beard as he chews. He looks around reflectively, then says to his companions. "Well I have no idea how I got here, I assume someone magicked up here. I saw we eat up and wait for our unknown host to show."

[Zhefonyll]

As the group digs into their meal, the rest of the tavern settles down a bit as well. Since you're apparently done throwing fire and spilling drinks - not to mention threatening each other with drawn weapons, the other patrons stop openly staring. Still, there's an air of expectation in the room, as though the townsfolk are waiting to see the new arrivals let loose on whatever they've come to fight, for surely men with fire-magic, bows, and swords are not in the business of peaceful negotiations...

The food is good, though not exceptionally so, and the smoky room is comfortable, a place of peaceful escape from the realities of life. With the amount of money Tim has offered, service is quite prompt, as well.

Just when bellies are getting pleasantly full and it would seem nothing of interest will happen, nor any abduction-inclined 'hosts' arrive, a small man appears on the table in a flash of light. Standing roughly as tall as a tankard, he is a clean man in a simple white robe. His skin is slightly tanned, and he is bald with no facial hair nor any inhuman features.

The hairless, little man wastes no time in looking around the table and addressing those he sees. "Well, now, isn't this disappointing. Do you know how much work it takes to arrange for all of you to appear here, together, next to a rampaging goblin horde, on a day where a talkative little boy's mother is too busy to keep him away from 'dangerous' strangers? Honestly, we went through the trouble of finding you an obvious problem to deal with so you could come to terms with things slowly, and instead you're so disinterested that you didn't even pump the kid for information."

"Maybe you'd like to go back home to your own realms, and wait for the problem to come for each of you individually? We thought we had some winners here, but we could look for a different group if you've grown too fat and happy in recent months."

From the way your tiny host is looking about the table, it would appear that he's a disillusioned child who just discovered that saturday-morning action stars are only pretending to be pinnacles of pure awesomeness. The hurt and disappointment on his face add a very different meaning to his biting words, an undertone of a kid still hoping that his heroes will reveal that their 'flaws' are a joke, and they really are as cool as every nine-year-old thinks.

"Well, what'll it be? Stop the rampaging goblins, or go back to the easy life until it's too late?"

[Amy]

"Well, I must admit... I am a bit interested in the boy's mother. Perhaps if we were to slay these Gobb-Lens then she may feel obligated to provide me with a bed to rest in for the night." His smile grows slyly. "And by rest, I mean not-resting."

He nods curtly. "Show me to these vile creatures, little man. I am not afraid."

.

[Embrodak]

Tim looks at the little man, listening to his words. He lowers his head to the table, closes one eyes and looks intently. He then lifts his hand and gives the little man a thwack with his middle finger. His finger passes harmlessly through man.

He nods thoughtfully as he raises his head and opens his eye, "Ah ha... Thought so.. You are just a figment."

He looks at the others and then back to the little man. "You brought us here to take care of a goblin infestation. What? You didn't have any fresh graduates from the Academy to handle them?" he says with a scoff. "You expect us to then take the word about Goblins from a little boy. When someone obviously powerful, magicked us here in the first place so we could here the fantastical tales of a little boy... Ha.. That's Rich.. Sorry for not waiting on your grand entrance."

The old man yawns.. "I guess it will be a good diversion from my rodent problem that has been bothering me of late. I guess I'll stay."

[Aosaw]

Joshua bit his lip, his eyes drifting to the side. Dad never mentioned any of this when he sent me down to Earth.

"All right, I'll see what I can do. But I'm not fighting anybody. War is for those who are afraid of peace."

He worked a bit of sawdust out from under his fingernail. I guess Judas's table will have to wait. Boy will he be pissed...

[Arkenfrost]

Robin looks at the bald man "I dont even know what a goblin is, and you expect me to fight them? Whats in it for me? I dont risk my life for nothing and it seems that whoever brought us here was very powerful indeed and yet they could not handle these goblins on there own so i know that this is going to be very dangerous. So i ask once again whats in it for me?" he takes an arrow out of the quiver and balances the thing on his finger with a delecate grace, almost an elven grace in fact.

[Kainti]

The enchanted sword lay (or whatever applied) in silence. It's an instrument of murder. Stabbing, slashing, blood, irony and quipping. Sating, for five flavors of life. It just burned his pommel to see others take for granted what he couldn't have. Fat bastards suckling on the edges of their mugs, using tools to pick at their morsels instead of their fists like men. It depressed the sword. But hey, witnessing copulation was something he could partake in like anyone else.

"I have to go wherever this little guy takes me. So, wherever his little guy takes him."

[Amy]

"I thought I told you not to refer to my rapier as 'Little Guy'! It is the 'Le' Piercing Thrust of Doom', thank you very much." D'Artagnan seems unable to take his attention off of the small blade laying on the table.

.

[Aosaw]

Joshua eyed D'Artagnan's main gauche. "Mister 'Artagnan, I think your sword is, ah... Oh, never mind. Miss, another glass of water? The room's not spinning yet, and it still doesn't make sense."

His conscience whispered a warning that drinking in excess could lead to acts of poor judgment. He brushed its advice aside. The only act of poor judgment he had made was telling people who his Father was. Oy!