[Story] The Inn - On your Shield

[purplerook]

Please post your interactions with other players at the Inn in this thread. Introduce yourself, meet others, plan expeditions, and recount tall tales of past expositions.

West Marches Adventurer's Board

On Your Shield" and Lady Emily Bartholomew Outside the Inn hangs a curious sign. On both sides, it proclaims the Inn's name - On Your Shield. On one side of the sign, the picture shows a person, hands raised in apparent victory, standing on a shield held up by others. On the other side of the sign, the person lies dead on the shield being carried by others. The Inn is a large and stout building. The ground floor is carefully dressed field stone - likely the remains of a stronghold (small) or fortified farmhouse (large). The ground floor and the main door (iron bound oaken 4x4s) harken back to a time when danger prowled the village. The second floor is testament to the current change in fortunes as the village and the Inn in particular have become a magnet for those seeking their fortune in the West Marches. The second floor is a large and airy plank and Wattle with a variety of large glass Windows. The inside of the Inn is 'rustic'. Magic light hanging from a chandelier provides light as the archer slits in the wall let in little natural light. Rough hewn chairs and tables are scattered about the main floor. The furniture clearly favoring durability over style. One side of the Inn has a stone Wall with a large fireplace/pit in the middle. The pit simultaneously provides heat and a cooking area for the kitchen, from which a variety of delicious smells emerge. The second floor of the Inn contains a variety of private rooms, available for rent by the hour, day or week. The rooms are available for eating, sleeping and various other activities. The rooms range from small enough to barely take a single sleeping individually to those large enough for a party to eat, sleep and plan various expeditions, away from prying ears. One wall of the Inn contains a large map of the Western Marches with greater or lesser detail and a pair of boards showing individuals interested in an expedition and groups out on expedition. The accuracy of the map and the boards relies on the recollection of various parties and so likely contains a number of inaccuracies and outdated information. The owner and the proprietor of the On Your Shield is Lady Emily Bartholomew. No one is clear on whether the title is real or not and Lady Emily herself has told several contradictory stories about the origin of the title. However, everyone refers to her as 'Lady Emily'. Lady Emily is a Bard who has found tavern keeping less dangerous than adventuring. Lady Emily runs the Inn with an iron fist wrapped in a velvet glove. She will tolerate no disruptive behavior (e.g., fighting, prostitution) in the Inn. Although Lady Emily seldom has problems with customers as the regulars are more likely throw someone out prior to Lady Emily bothering to intervene. Lady Emily will usually Entertain in the evenings playing various instruments and singing. She will invite any traveling Bards to play.

[Agrudez]

Aelar felt a rush of nostalgia as he stepped back into the bar at the "completion" of his first mission. He looked around to see if there were any familiar faces to avoid before - once satisfied that there wasn't - walking over to a dark corner of the establishment to sulk in solitude. Griffons... he thought glumly. Of all the luck. He sighed and then motioned for one of the waitresses to come over for his order. As she began her practiced pleasantries, the gruff wizard cut her off.

Red wine.

with a sour glance, she nodded and turned to leave. Aelar simply wasn't in the mood for someone else's sunshine illuminating his gloomy disposition. His first venture was a failure, after all. He had set out with high expectations for himself - even if he did have a slight apprehension as they set off. Perhaps he was finally going to unlock the mystery of his grandfather's fighting style while out putting his magic to use in the field? Such a thought, he ventured a guess, was reserved for the naivety of someone whom has never left the safe confines of the city walls - such as he, just a few days past. After some time, the waitress returned with his order. She handed it to the elf and then turned away - flashing a smile slightly less playful than previously. Aelar sighed. She spit in it... definitely.

He then slouched back in his chair and began to sip his drink - confirming his hypothesis in the process. This was the antithesis of the triumphant return he had dreamed of. Griffons...

[Duskers]

Skriss, a Lost Soul Shambling into the in, Skriss looked to be covered in a torn up, muddy quilt. With a longbow on their back and shortsword and axe on either hip, the shambling truly sounded like shambling. Stopping for a moment, the Kenku looked around the room. It had been many years since Skriss had been under a roof, so long in fact, it took them a few seconds to realize it was a bar. Hopping onto the nearest barstool, Skriss motioned for the barmaid. As she walked over, asking Skriss what they'd like, Skriss suddenly realized their vocabulary didn't include cider. Making audible vulture-like displeased noises, Skriss began to sulk on the counter before copying the voice of a travelling farmer that the vultures had attempted to steal from, "Git outta here, ya darn birds!", then another voice that was very different, but still from a farm, "Y'all best leave! Ya done enough!" Skriss hoped this got the message across that the barmaid's services weren't needed.

[Dakkon]

Graf of the Granite When the door slammed shut, the sound echoed loudly within the inn's common room. All eyes were on the sole survivor of Clan Granite. The barbarian's lips were curled into a snarl, rage evident on his face. With heavy steps, Graf made his way through the room, walking past the strangest creature he had yet to see in this town. A strange bird man sitting by the counter. What was in with this region and bird things? Greefuns, and man-birds? The barbarian put the strange sight from his mind, and walked towards a table in the back with a familiar face sitting down. "No pay for skinny man too?" He asked the elven wizard, wondering if the mage found himself in the situation as he found himself in. Graf pulled out a chair, and sat heavily upon the chair. It creaked loudly under his weight, threatening to break apart for a brief moment. Thankfully, it held. "No pay for Graf, damn bird things. Damn greefuns. Only enough coins left for bed." He sighed, feeling frustrated, feeling helpless. The barbarian barely had enough coin to survive, now. He, like the others from their group, had very much needed the promised coins to survive. It was not cheap living in this settlement, with everyone trying to milk every service and goods for all the coins they could muster. "Where is man with coins?" He asked, hoping Aelar had some clue. When Graf found the town clerk, he would wring the little man's neck! "You see others?" He added, hoping the mage had seen the rest of the adventurer's from their failed mission. He sighed again, and clenched his fist. He raised it in the air, tempted to slam it upon the table, but changed his mind. He knew the rules of this place, no violence, no vandalism. He lowered his hand, and flexed his fingers.

[TheGoodDrEw]

Dietrich von Harlington Dietrich walked into the tavern of the Inn and took a look around, flashing a winning smile to anyone who looked towards him. He had felt the pull to the West Marches, but hadn't yet found the missions that Chauntea had in mind for him. He shrugged a bit as no one seemed to be looking to talk and walked up to the bar. "Well, barkeep, it looks like I'll be here to have some mead!" the cleric said, adjusting his mace in its sheathe, and slightly moving his shield by doing so. He ran his fingers through his long brown hair as he awaited his drink. "Thank you." he said as the mead came and he casually dropped some silver to pay for it. He looked around, smiling again at anyone willing to look his way and took a sip of his mead, he then smiled at everyone again, and, not having much better to do, he sipped his mead again. Seeing a wizard sitting there with some red wine, Dietrich walked over and asked, "Mind if I sit down, sir? You seem like a smart man in need of a friend!" without waiting for a response, Dietrich sat. "Dietrich von Harlington, I'm the third son in my family, you may have heard of my father, Lord von Harlington... Or my brother Lord von Harlington!" Smiling a bit, Dietrich continued, "They, of course, hold no relation to Lady von Harlington. Common mistake, you know."

[Gazmania]

Magnus, The Hammer of Kord Magnus strode confidently into the Shield, the large Dwarf not breaking his stride as he made his way directly to the bar. He looked particularly strong and was very heavily armoured, wearing layers of well-worn chainmail and leather bindings, with a heavy shield strapped to his back. He shouldered a large warhammer that he casually propped against the bar as he ordered his drink. He also seemed to be very tall, for his kind, but he was still the shortest person in the room (even the bird was taller than him!). Still, when he ordered his drink it was with a cheerful booming voice that easily filled the room and could have come from a man twice his size. "A mug of your strongest ale!" he ordered jovially, finishing the drink in a few large mouthfuls as soon as it was placed before him, gesturing for another before the empty mug even touched the bar. He sighed contentedly, happy to quench his thirst after the long journey here and grabbed his second drink, turning to look at the few others that had gathered so far. There seemed to be a somber mood filling the air and from what he had overheard it seemed to have something to do with missing payments. Well that's a sound way to dampen any mood he thought to himself, remembering the few times people had tried to back out of paying him for a job well done. They usually changed their minds when they realised how persuasive he could be. He swallowed a few more mouthfuls of his ale, a much weaker drink than he would usually like, before downing the rest of the mug and waving over the nearest barmaid. "I'll have another" he said, turning to the Skrissinteresting looking feathered person sat at the bar waiting for their drink. "What're you havin'?" he asked curiously, having never seen a bird-man in a bar before. Or anywhere, for that matter. You get all sorts here he thought to himself, looking at the motley crew that was currently inhabiting the bar. He had only been here a few minutes but already thought he had made the right choice by coming to Westhaven, now all he needed to do was find someone to pay him.

[oztk]

A dwarf walks into a bar The door slowly opens again to reveal Oskar Stenehjem, an elderly dwarf, book in his hands. The dwarf surveys the room briefly over his glasses and the edge of book, but anyone who tries to make eye contact with him is disappointed, for he quickly returns his attention to the book. As he reads, he scuffles toward the bar, miraculously weaving around several tables without incident before thumping loudly into the bar, nearly dropping his book. "Your darkest ale, please", he asks softly, pulling a coin from his purse and setting it on the counter without looking up from his reading. When brought, the beer sits unnoticed for nearly a minute, before Oskar picks it up, gives the room another quick once over while taking a long pull on the beer, and then shuffles toward an empty table in the corner and settles in, reading all the time.

[Dakkon]

Graf of the Granite "Mind if I sit down, sir? You seem like a smart man in need of a friend!" A stranger said, interrupting the conversation between the mage and the barbarian. "Dietrich von Harlington, I'm the third son in my family, you may have heard of my father, Lord von Harlington... Or my brother Lord von Harlington!" Smiling a bit, the man continued, "They, of course, hold no relation to Lady von Harlington. Common mistake, you know." "Smart man has friend," The genisi barbarian told the newcomer. It was almost like the stranger was half blind, not noticing the nearly seven foot tall warrior sitting at the table. Graff looked at the man, and found that he resembled a priest he had met years before. Some cleric to some sort of death God, though he could not recall the names. He noticed not one, but two dwarves enter the tavern, and the sight brought joy to his heart. His clan had always had a close relationship with the stout folk. If the settlement had a dwarven community, they were in luck! The stout folk were fierce warriors, and fiercer friends. They were the best of artisans, and the most trust worthy of folk. Unlike most humans, dwarves stayed true to their word. "Sit, human, sit." Graf said, welcoming the familiar looking man. There was plenty of room at the table, he didn't see why the stranger could not join them. This entire settlement was filled with strangers, and that would never change until people made an attempt to get to know each other. "Graf of the Granite." He said, slapping himself once on the chest introducing himself. "Aelar." He added, motioning towards the mage.

[TheGoodDrEw]

Dietrich von Harlington Oh, Graf, I'm sorry, it looked to me as if you two were fighting and your friend here would surely not come out on top if you two exchanged blows." Dietrich said, laughing. "If you two are truly friends, it is my apologies that are needed, I have clearly misinterpreted the situation! Carry on, I won't be a bother!" Dietrich smiled again, and continued to sit at the table oblivious to what was going on. He then called out, "Perhaps we could get even more people over here, dwarf friend, other dwarf friend, crow friend. We are all friends in life, and in life all of us are friends. TO FRIENDS!" He said, raising his mug as he either didn't notice or just ignored the looks he was getting.

[MrCeeJ]

Down, But Not Out The tavern door had been used plenty on this day, for it swung open with ease to reveal another visitor. After his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, Nine glanced around, noting several new faces. However, sitting off to the side, he spotted his former companions that appeared to be emulating the same disappointment that he felt. Bastard griffons, the gladiator thought as he trudged over to the table occupied by the Elf, Genasi, and an unfamiliar face. He pulled out a chair just as the more jubilant human made a toast to the other patrons at the bar. After setting down his equipment and finally taking a seat, Nine nodded towards the cheerful fellow while addressing his friends, "Someone that has yet to set foot outside of town, I take it?" He let out a sigh and turned his attention to Graf. "Any word on the town clerk's whereabouts? I can hardly afford a cold brew and a nice meal until we get paid." He slapped the table in frustration.

[Agrudez]

Aelar sighed as Graf approached. I hope he doesnt blame me for how things ended up... im not interested in meeting the business end of his weapon.. As the barbarian began speaking, though, it served to alleviate the wizard's concerns. With a sarcastic smirk he glanced down at his drink.

If I had gotten paid I wouldve ordered a fresh one instead of choking this down.

He studied the barbarian for a moment. It seemed to Aelar that anger was flashing across his face. The wizard swallowed hard before realizing that the man's ire - luckily - wasnt directed at him.

So... you got cheated, too? I know things didnt go as well as the employer expected, but he also conveniently failed to mention the damn griffons.
Surely the fact that we got any of those lumberjacks back alive considering the circumstances should warrant something. Truth be told, I think the bastard is avoiding us.

He set his glass down to brood for a moment. As Graf inquired about the other members of the expedition, Aelar turned to address him, but found himself interrupted by a man with an exceedingly long name coupled with an exceedingly long explanation for it. These young races... always in a rush and always transfixed on the most inconsequential details.

Well met, Lord von Interrupter, son of someone I have never heard of.

Before the wizard could further offend the well intentioned cleric, Graf interjected: "smart man has friend". Friend, eh? Aelar scrunched his face for a moment in thought. I dont think anyone has ever referred to me that way before... A smiled broke the elf's face - a genuine one, for once.

Aye, a friend. Apologies for the abrasiveness. Few would mistake me for friendly on my best day and it just so happens that today is decidedly not a good one.

He motioned towards an open chair - mimicking Graf.

So, Dietrich, what brings you to our company?

[Duskers]

Skriss Sulking with their beak on the counter, Skriss was surprised when the dwarf sat beside them. Even more surprised, and slightly annoyed, Skriss was when he asked what drink they were having. It's tough trying to get across a concept like cider without the proper recorded word, but perhaps it was rude to simply ignore the dwarf. And perhaps if the dwarf figured it out, Skriss would have a recorded word for cider. Lifting their chin off the counter, Skriss initially tried to mimic the crunch of an apple. But it was easy to tell it wasn't working. Looking around for anything to show the dwarf, Skriss grabbed a coaster and tried to get across the fact that it was round. Then, Skriss pointed to a red patch on the quilted overcoat. Finally, they pointed to the drink the dwarf had, hopefully letting him know it was alcoholic.

[tomplum]

Vonnos

Never one to wallow in pity or self doubt for long, Vonnos had his mind set to get back out and make a difference in this town. His first attempt had been deemed a failure by Bronman, who had decided that payment was not an option, another attempt at the wilds was therefore a foregone conclusion in the triton's mind. He ran his webbed fingers through his green hair and entered the tavern known as On Your Shield.

Quickly scanning the taproom, his eyes lit up as he saw Aelar, Nine, and Graf already seated at a table conversing with another fellow. Nearly knocking a chair over in his haste to rejoin his old group, Vonnos greets them all heartily. "My friends! What fortuitous circumstance that brings us all together again! Preparing to venture out anew, are we? I've thought of nothing else. That grouch Bronman denied me any payment. Said no returned supplies equals no wages. I quite thought bringing two carts and a dozen lumberjacks back alive in the first place accomplishment enough. Ah well, there's always next time."

Vonnos gave a quizzical look as he noticed he was the only member of the group who seemed to be in any sort of good spirits. "Do not fret, friends. Think of the starfish who sacrifices an appendage to escape the clutches of the crab. Our initial foray may have lost us a proverbial arm, but we live to fight another day! I for one will not be daunted by a set back. When life gives you oysters, find pearls, or so the saying goes."

[Maskain]

Got a Smoke? After entering the dimly lit tavern and scouring the burly men that filled a bunch of the different areas, Grauf set himself down at the bar, slinking about in a manner that presented only pain at his continued walking. Upon his ragged pants landing upon the stool, Grauf coughed up at the bar-man before covering his jaws and turning to the side to finish his coughing fit. His eyes blinked rapidly as he tried to return back to his senses, the orbs obfuscated by the dim light that was unnatural to him. "Urghhh..." His sights turning back up to the bar-man that was now less than interested and was attending to more proper guests the abominated fish-man began swirling a finger in the attendant's direction. "You got me any water? I need some water. 'M parched as can be. Oh and... and smokes, you got any'a those here? You got any smokes?" He jingled a coin pouch at the man before setting it on the counter to make a trade. A despondent frown crossed Grauf's face as the human made well enough aware that this was not a place where he could get 'smokes', but that was removed when a glass of water was set in front of him. "Fine, fine. 'M sure I c'n find a place round here that'll trade." His voice was rather rough, lined with gravel as it were, and the fish-man was well enough aware of his own deterioration. Thinking out loud as he drank, Grauf looked about the dimly lit room he had by now gotten used to, "Huh. Lotta men with big blades and wild articles." His eyes were drawn to the one nearby him, a dwarf that had put himself to talking with a Skrissbundle of rags. When the rags began to shift and contort, Grauf's eyes blinked rapidly once more, filled with surprise and confusion more-so than before. "Hey dwarf-man, who're you talkin to there?" The Magnusdwarf was coated in armor and he'd think him foolish before otherwise if he hadn't seen a hand stick out of the bundle to communicate with the dwarf. "Some sorta... cloth golem 'r somethin?"

[Anthrueser]

Grunaug His hand faltered on the door, only for a moment. He'd been informed that the common procedure among the adventuring parties he'd long opposed was to meet in a tavern. It was an idiotic practice, preparing and decision making in a house of inebriation, enough so that the bugbear unconsciously made a sound of distaste before pushing open the door and entering the tavern. Ducking his head under the door frame, Grunaug first took the time to gauge the room. His eyes trailed across a table of men at the back and the odd figures near the bar before they caught the map set upon the opposite wall. With the information sitting out so freely, he wondered exactly how many of these men knew what was on it and how many had merely ignored it. Waving off a barmaid as she stared at him, he headed for the map and began to study what had been written so far, trying to glean what he could from the novice cartography etched out by past adventurers. The north seemed a forested lands with ample rivers, a likely place for groupings of wild creatures and nomads. The same forestry apparently headed further westward before meeting a mountain range many days off, if the land was truly unsullied then ample ores could be taken from those mountains. Finding he'd likely traveled the eastern coast to get here and with no experience on the seas, he paid little attention to the southern seas or any of the lands to the east. It was not much for now, but it was better than nothing. He was surprised the other adventurers had taken the time to do this much. Turning back around, Grunaug breathed heavily from his nostrils when he noticed the barmaid was still staring at him. Again, he tried to wave her off as he approached the counter. Now taking his time to watch the trio of smaller beasts and men nearby, the bugbear noticed the bundle of mismatched cloth was a kenku, a race his old raiding band had at times implemented. Useful beasts. Alongside it was a dwarf and... a thing. The dwarf looked hearty, someone worth allying himself with, but the fish-like humanoid looked pathetic. He had to stop himself from making a face of disgust as he watched its coughing, feeble form. Tapping the counter to catch the attention of the barmaid, something he didn't have to do as she was still looking at him, Grunaug pointed to the glass of water belonging to one of the trio and then to himself. Catching on, she poured him a glass as he took a seat nearby, taking some time to discreetly make disgusted faces at the fishman's horrible struggle with the mere act of living with an interest in the same vein as one watching a halfling drown in knee deep water.