A gruffy looking mercenary sitting at the bar eyed the newcomer from the corners of his eyes before dismissing him and returning to his drink -borellean double fermented ale.
After having emptied the glass, he put it down and poured himself another one from the bottle sitting besides his glass.
He was known to some of the regular patrons as Jat, but little else did they know about them.
Jat played the part of a mercenary and he played it well, but there was something about his gear and the way he held himself that just wouldn't fit, exactly.
He had been in town for nearly a month now, and had his own room upstairs in the Prancing Pony, the name of this establishment.
Some patrons had found it strange for a mercenary to act so seemingly unhurried, and spending so much gold hanging around doing nothing, yet after a while they had grown accustomed to him here at the bar each night.

OOC: hello BM.

OOC: A monk... on Arda? In Brie?

A hooded man looked intently at the monk and the mercenary from one of the tables. Around his neck was visible a small medallion, a trilobite inscribed into it. "Go on, Laudonia, tell us the rest of your story," said another patron to the priest. "So anyway, I said to the elven widower 'not to worry. Her spirit will just go to Valinor."

She can't believe the complete lack of intellegent people in this bar. "Travel the world" they said. "Meet interesting people" they said. She goes over her parents words in her head, pausing just to glance around at the others inhabiting the bar. "Stupid parets," she says out loud, "just wanted to get rid of me. Only interesting person is some stupid drunk next to me. Why must a paladin be forced to endure this."
The bar maid interupts her reflections.
"Heres your water, Anehta" said the barmaid. "You sure you dont want anything else; food, place to stay, female companionship for the night..." she nudges the paladin with her arms as she finishes her sentence.
"Actually, now that you mention it, I would like something else" replied Anehta. "I want you to take your perverted mind warped by whatever dark lord you call a master, and explain to him that if he ever approaches me with an offer like that again, I will hang his manhood from my helmet as a trophy. You got that?"
The barmaid nearly fell over backwards as she backed up. "Yes Sir, I mean ma'am."
The little outburst at the barmaid brought what to the other patrons may have looked like a sneer, but it was the closest thing to a smile that Anehta would ever form. Her little tangent also distracted her from the monk who had just walked in. She raised her head again to look at the priest entertaining his companions with some asnine anecdote but caught the monk in her peripheral vision.
"Hmm, maybe there is one interesting person in this bar" sh thought. If one was looking closely at her mouth, he would swear that there appeared to be a semblance of a smile on her face.

OOC: *Claps hands* Fantastic! Everything well done. We're off to a great start.

IC:

Silent Hawk turned slowly, surveying the room. A sudden outburst in a corner caused him to turn and observe a woman in armor berating the barmaid. *I wonder what happened?* he thought idly, before his gaze wandered again.

There was the usual assortment of regular people in the crowd, some townsfolk here for their dinner or to exchange some stories before going home to their unenlightened lives... pitiful, but understandable. They would never, could never, attain Enlightenment.

There were a few who stood out though. A battle-hardened man sat at the bar with him, obviously a fighter of some sort, but would he suit his needs? Perhaps. Perhaps he wouldl try him first, before he approached the others.

"Sir, your food is ready."

But not till he'd eaten anyway.

Turning back to his food, he prays over it for a moment, and then begins to eat.

Henry Rockhammer, a dwarven mercenary, lumbers into the bar with two things on his mind: beer and gold. Where he would find more of the latter to pay for more of the former, he could only guess.

"Two grogs, miss!" He hollers towards the barmaid. "One for me...and one for me," thinks Henry, as he glaces over his fellow patrons. "Funny to see a monk in a place like this, perhaps this fellow's taken a vow of insobriety. Ha!"

OOC:

Quote:

The Prancing Pony, I couldn't think of any other name at the time. It isn't in Bree or even middle-earth; it doesn't have to even if it does share the same name.

BM, I hope that Enlightment you mentioned earlier, bloody well isn't Cause "Enlightment" you're going to preach at us.

Right:

Jat tried to very pointedly ignore the loud woman sitting two seats to the right of him at the bar. He could barely contain himself, though; his normally cool control was slipping with the booze beginning to cloud his mind.
He did manage not to laugh, and thankfully the barmaid -Maya her name was- went away quickly. He couldn't help staring at het legs and shapely bottom -she was a complete dish.
The loud woman had calmed down again, and Jat took the opportunity to examine her more closely: she wasn't exactly a beatiful woman, but handsome in a way, in her early 30's, he reckoned.
She did appear well to do though, and she was armed, which was rather unusual for any woman. Maybe that was why Maya was sent, in the hope of shaking some more gold out of this strange client.
It was a shame really, how poorly Farman, the owner of the Prancing Pony, looked after his girls, he reflected. They deserved better. But work was hard to get in Archfield and in the surrounding country-side. It wasn't that archfield wasn't a prosperous town, it was actually comparatively wealthy, but too many people without jobs came in from the surrounding villages.
Maya and Juliette could have ended up far worse: atleast here they earned some pay, and had a decent roof above their heads. Jat liked both girls and would ocassionally tip them, when he was certain Farman wasn't looking. Perhaps maybe just because Jat was so fair to the girls, was why Farman never once tried to offer one to him, during his stay.
Maybe he was afraid to lose one permanently, Jat smiled inwardly.
Then he noticed a dwarf entering the tavern -not a very unusual sight here, under the shadow of the White mountains- and he did look like a cheerful fellow and was calling for grog. Great, maybe the dwarf will buy me another drink, Jat thought.

OOC: OOC means "out of character" right?

IC:
Quietly the door opened, and a small halfling rogue entered, he tryed to avoid attention. Under his black robe he hided a bag and his right hand, on it was a oversized gauntlet partly covered in dried blood. He sat down and waved carefully to the bartender.
"Oh... Dûrdo, It's you again," he said, "You... want anything this time?"
"Yeah... a meal of some sort, and a room."
"Got money for that?" The bartender sounded suprised.
"Yes!" Dûrdo said quickly, trying to stop the conversation before everyone was aware of him. "And make it quick."

Dûrdo finished his meal, then walked up the stairs, sweating.
Only thing on his mind was weather anyone took notice of him and if the bartender had understood what Dûrdo had done.

[This message has been edited by Xeno (edited 07-05-2002 @ 03:18 PM).]

OOC:

Heh, no JAT, nothing of that at all, although now that you mention it.. *chuckles*

Hank: That was good, but how would you know that I'm a monk? By the robes I'm wearing? Unfortunatly, we cannot make such assumptions without mentioning a suitable reason as to why we think it to be so.

For example, I never explicitly say that JAT is a mercenary, even though we know he is because he's told us. However, my CHARACTER doesn't know that, so note that I look him over as someone who's obviously seen a lot of action, but have no idea as to what he is, although I can make an educated guess.

Other then that, it was allll good Hank. *thumbs up*

IC:

He'd only just started eating when the door had banged open behind him, and the unmistakable sounds of a man, probably a dwarf by his accent as well as his desire for ale, came forth.

Not giving it much thought, he returned to his food, finishing the rest of the measly meal in a few more bites. Just as well, for he could not eat too much of the unidentifiable meat anyway.

Pushing it away, he turns to survey the newcomer. A dwarf! He was right on that account anyway as another barmaid hurried to finish his order of two beers.

(Note of something that would be wrong to assume: Henry has not stated that his dwarf is going to take a seat at a bar, at the table, etc, so it would be wrong for me to have said

"He was right on that account anyway as another barmaid hurried to finish his order of two beers AS HE DREW UP TO PLUNK HIMSELF DOWN AT THE BAR"

This is because I would have been moving him without his consent. What if he had wanted to sit at a table instead for example? Or joined the surly paladin?)

Sighing, he decided it was time for him to begin his search.

Turning back to the warrior man, he addressed him quietly.

*Brother, might I request your aid in an endavour?*

(Note 2: Note that Xeno posted that he didn't want to be noticed. Notice that I didn't mention him at all. To my character, I don't even know that Duero is there at all, because he failed to notice him. However, as me, myself in the real world, I know he was there.

Your character could choose to have noticed him, but why? What drew the attention to him when you were doing what you were doing? These are considerations to help you along to consider what is "real" and what is "playing God" in your decisions.)

[This message has been edited by Blackmane (edited 07-05-2002 @ 11:02 AM).]

The dwarven warrior, Buldur Longbeard, came down the stairs from the second floor of the inn. He had arrived earlier in the day and had gone streight to his room and slept in exhausten. He had travelled 100 miles in 4 days after his father, Gildur Strongarm, had been killed by bandits. He was on a journey south to his brother, Gidlr Runestone.

He went up to a table and sat down

"Waitress. Give me some food!" he ordered

"Um.. yes. Ofcourse. What would you like" The waitress said timidly, she could see the dwarf stroking his axe at his side

"Boar! and lots of it"

"Yes sir" The waitress said as she walked off.

The dwarf then relaxed and hummed a tune in his own language.

OOC: Can we have more than one charactor?

After pulling himself atop a barstool and slapping down some gold for the barmaid, Henry snorted and mumbled, "Blasted human inns and their bleedin' tall counters. Hmph!"

As he looked over his fellow patrons, he watched as the robed figure approached a warrior at the bar. Henry knew the mercenary business well, and could spot a potential deal when he saw it.

At this point, as he polished off his first mug of brew, Henry removed his sizeable hand-axe from his beltloop and began buffing it with his cloak. "Fine dwarven craftsmanship, indeed!" Henry thought as he sat smiling, admiring the worksmanship. He missed home, these high-flying adventures and gold-gaining escapades certainly had their charm - but oh the be back with his clan.

At the very least, he'd have a proper barstool.

OOC : This is my very very first attempt, so if i make any major blunders, pls dun laugh. =)

IC:
This ramshackled tavern was hardly the place to begin looking for love..or sex. But Ariel had no choice, she had been travelling the whole day, and needed rest. She opened the door and entered.

"I need a room," she said, addressing the bartender.

"well we got here rooms little lady... but if you're interested you're welcome to share mine...." he gives a hearty laugh and winks at her." How may I address a thing of beauty like yourself?"

She was not about to let an old, and on top of that, ugly, man pick her up, but she did not want to create any trouble.
"Just give me the keys and be done with it," she replied fiercely, flipping the side of her cloak such that her trusted dagger gleamed in the bartenders eye.

"hey, hey i was just joking... Don't you outlanders have a sense of humour..." he says gruffly as he turns around, randomly picking a key off the rack behind him. "up the stairs, then to your right." he says, tossing the key on the counter.

"On second thoughts, give me a beer with that," she ordered. Ariel was tired, and there was nothing more she would have liked to do then retire to bed, but she could not resist first checking out the men in the tavern. This was after all her first day out of the monastry, and she could hardly contain the excitement of a new found life.

IC:
Loud bashes at the door chaught the bartender's attention. He went to check what it was. As he opened the door he saw a tall half-orc in heavy armor, ready to punch the door again.
"What are you doing? You've breaken the lovk!" the bartender said.
"De door wudn't open! Me's sorry."
"You're supposed to pull it! Not push!" the bartender yelled.
"Me understand now! Me have questisions."
The bartender looked at him, noticed that the half-orc only had a gauntlet on his left hand, an assumed he looked for Dûrdo.
"Well I'm not talking to you, you maniac!"
He figured he'd stay out of this.

A dwarf, humming something, caught the half-orc's attention, and he walked towards him.
"Say, you seen a tiny fella here. Tiny'r than you. Me tink he's taken some of mine."

From the top of the stairs, ready to run away, Dûrdo watched what was happening, hoping that the dwarf hadn't taken notice of him when crossing each other on his way to his room earlier.

OOC:Hope it's all right that I inroduce this half-orc to the bar, he's an npc, so i think anyone's free to "use" him in their posts (though neo should be the first to do so).

OOC:
hmm
wow... this sounds a little hard... anyway... here goes nothing!

IC:
Silently perched atop the roof of the inn, a dark clad figure crouches silently. Every muscle tensed and alert, a shadow against the backdrop of the slate.

Iroquis listens through the slate tiles unto the hubbub below. The crash of the half-orc's fist against the door almost sent the masked asssasin reeling; so intent on the hunt that the other senses were oblivous to the surroundings.

Rubbing his sore left ear,

"The Mestre would have had my head for being so careless." thought Iroquis ruefully.

It wasn't so often that an assassin lost his prey during the hunt, But what he was hunting tonight clearly was more than mortal... maybe even more towards the supernatural side of the world.

Whatever it was, the only thing Iroquis was certain of was that it had managed to slip past his highly attuned senses and into the now crowded inn, something no mortal prey could have ever done to the asssasins of the Tomi

What he did know was the presence of the half-Orc was making "it" uncomfortable. And "it" was going to make a move soon... with that knowledge in mind, Iroquis loosened the acid tempered katana strapped to his back... Both Ki and instinct on alert waiting for "it" to make its move...

The Mestre had decreed that the hunt must not fail. The clan had to inviestigate what "it" was. and what was its purpose here.

Whatever it was, down below... no one knew "it" was already among them... and that made it that much harder to succeed.

Iroquis smiled silently, and waited above the hubbub of the
Tavern.

[This message has been edited by Dieter Weber (edited 07-05-2002 @ 02:20 PM).]

Ariel took a seat at the bar, and scanned the area. The only men around seemed to be short uncouth dwarves. She could see from the corner of her eye, a mean looking one, fiddling with his axe, and another one stuffing his face like a pig. No one else of interest was present. Of course there was that robed figure over at the other end, seemingly a monk or cleric that appeared much more civil then the rest, but she had just left her life as a priestess, and getting to know another cleric was not on the top of her list.

Suddenly, the sound of loud bashes broke her train of thoughts. She had hoped for a quiet evening, but apparently it was going to be denied of her.
"what the hell is wrong with the people here" Ariel exlaimed to herself, and shot a look of death to the orc that had started the commotion. The place was filled with more barbaric creatures than she was used to.

She did not run away from the monastry, turn her back on her faith, and leave her old life behind to come out and face a couple of insolent fools.

Anehta watched the each new adventurer entering the bar carefully. Her mark had yet to show up and she was not about to let a courier of such importance slip through. The half-ork is a suprise was a suprise to her though. "I would have thought that little halfing runt would have finished it off in its sleep" she thought to herself. Anyway it didn't matter, the ork wasn't the messenger. How long would she have to wait in this hell hole?
"Caene said that he would be here" she thought. "His instructions were to look for a Azracan shaman and he would supply my information. It would be hard to miss an Azracan so in a bloody human town."
She gripped her warhammer tighter and felt the enchanted weapon's magical power flow through her hand. She cursed Caene for forcing her to just sit in a bar.
"I really hate this place" she said out loud but under her breath. "Mercanaries are really the scum of the world."
She left her bar stool and went to a secluded corner of the bar and stood there to perpusly remove herself from being seen if anyone wasnt staring at the half-ork.
"I will give this messenger another hour" she thought. "Then I set out on my own regardless of his info."

Laudonia finished his tale. It seemed that he had laid waste to a couple of foul undead soldiers a while back. Oddly enough, Laudonia didn't seem interested in the fact that they were evil, or that they were killing people. "The law of the dead is that they stay dead," was all that he said about these unholy monsters.

Eventually, the little group that he was in got up, and filed out of the door. A rather stupid-looking mercenary was the first out of the door, followed by the dwarf and then by the dark elf. The people around seemed unable to understand how those two had not killed each-other, but the dark elf had sworn not to stab the dwarf, and Laudonia was intent on seeing that the elf kept his word.

Instead, grim and silent as Death itself, though not malevolent like the undead horrors he seemingly battled, Laudonia walked out. His trilobite medallion swung silently as he made his way to the door.

OOC:
BM is a monk this time? Dang, guess I'll have to be an Undead Uber-wizard :P But seriously, how about this? I hope including some oblique references to what may or may not be the AoW story line are not too out of line.

IC:
Wahan sat nursing his drink, musing. The world had changed since the days of his youth. The forest he had grown up in was gone now, a wasteland ravaged by ravaged by fire and war, where only the Dead now walked. He blamed the Humans of course, they had thrown off the balance and caused the Great Division. He had been at the High Court before that, and after had stayed loyal throughout the Kin Wars. Sometimes though he had had to wonder if the Dark Ones had been right. But their methods were wrong. Elf raise hand against Elf? No, that should never have happened. That made them no better then barbarians themselves.

And now? now the world had been turned upside down. This bar was a perfect example. Full of loud, swearing ruffians of all races. Dwarves, half-orcs, warriors in armor, and ... well who knew what some of the denizens here were. and that robed fellow at the bar sizing them all up. Another "adventurer" looking for a party no doubt. Or a fight.

"Well?" The harsh question, if question it was, interrupted his train of thought. Wahan looked up. It was the barmaid, standing there glaring at him.

"Well enough I suppose, all things considered." he rplied. "Or was there something in particular you had in mind?"

"Listen, don't you start giving me any more crap Elf. That bitch over there has a sword, but you don't. Now, are you going to order another drink or not? Cuz you've been sitting there taking up good table space all evening and I don't get paid by the hour you know. At least not here."

"I'm not much of a drinking man, I guess." It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. The fact was, his purse was getting light, and his herb pouch lighter. And a healer without herbs or gold to buy them was not much use in the world these days. He wondered idly if the robed figure had a druid with him yet. The idea of working with such a bunch was unpleasant, but if the pay was good. And Humans always paid well for someone who could keep them alive a while longer.

He stood up, gulping down what was left of the ale in a single chug. "For your ... time and trouble" he said, dropping a silver piece on the table. It was too much he knew, and more then he could afford really, but he knew the gesture would be seen, and when you're looking for work it doesn't pay to let people know you're desperate.

Walking toward the bar, staff prominently in hand, he approached the robed man and coughed politely.

As Henry watched the other dwarf from across the bar, he watched with disgust as the stocky fellow gobbled his boar-meat. While wild pork wasn't against his dietary restrictions (Dwarves have few), the idea of eating his trusty steed Wiggly turned his stomach. Now horse-meat, that's another story. Mmm mmm.

Polishing off his second grog, Henry decided it was time for business. Walking to the end of the bar, he approached the robed figure, warrior, and elf. If these bastards wander off without me, who knows what sort of trouble they'll get themselves into. Especially with pansy elves involved, ha! What's that pointy-eared fool going to do when he's five-hundred feet below the surface staring an angry Karagh in the face, lute it to death?! Hmph!

As he neared the trio, Henry grumbles and bows, "The finest four feet and seven inches of fear-inducing ferocity this side of Faerun, at your service."

OOC:This is my first time so don't laugh.
IC:Entering the tavern, the small halfling theif quietly looked around for his next prey. A hooded man walked passed him, followed by a party of a dwarf, by the looks of it a dark elf,and probably a mercenary, all not not paying him any attention. Around his neck was an odd medallion. Weighing the odds, Darkbane decided it wasn't worth the risk, it looked like a mere trinket,he would probably be lucky if he got even a gold piece for it on the black market.
Looking around the tavern, he saw a couple of dwarves,a half-orc, two women, one in a corner looking sullen, the other sitting at the bar. At the end of the bar, a rough looking man and what was probably a monk was talking with him. An elf was with them and a dwarf looked like he was just introducing himself to the group. A odd assortment, but Darkbane had been around enough to see stranger things. Walking by a barmaid, he relieves her of a silver piece in her pocket. Getting close enough to hear the group, he orders an ale and listens to what they're saying.

[This message has been edited by mebored (edited 07-05-2002 @ 10:35 PM).]

OOC: My charactor's name has nothing to do wth the game 'Buldur's Gate' By the way

IC:

Buldur spoke the orc:

"Don't you call me short, you barbaric monster" He said slowly moving his hand to his axe yet it was not seen by the orc

"No-one calls I a monster! I will hack at you body with me sword!" The orc replied. While doing so he drew his schimter. "I WILL SMASH AND CRUSH YOU!"

Quickly Buldur drew his axe. The two faced each other for a couple of second then the orc raised his sword and struk down at the dwarf but the dwarf blocked with his axe. Buldur lunged at the orc and caught him unaware. The axe wound went accross the orcs thigh but this did not seem to harm him, just made him angry-er. The orc, in his rage charged at the dwarf and punched him with his bare fist. Buldur was knocked into the air and flew into a table knocking it over and spilling several pints of bear that where on the table.

This fight had cuased quite a comontion in the bar and everyone was watching the two fight. Meanwhile Buludur had become furious and, knashing his teeth together, charged at the orc. He swung his axe beserkly but this orc, though as thick as a post, was a good fighter. The orc blocked all of the dwarf's attacks. The orc struck at the dwarf and made a cut along his forehead. The dwarf got up and once more charged at the orc. The dwarf took a swing at the orc and orc blocked it. The weapons came together at such force that Buldur's one-handed axe shattered.

The dwarf was unarmed and the orc smilied in glee at the seamingly defencelesness of the dwarf. yet all was not over for Buldur. He had another axe which had hung over/behind his bag but it was not visable to anyone else as his brown coat was in a the way. He drew this axe. It was a large two handed battle axe that belonged to his father. Upon it's head it had numerous runes and the axe head shone with a bright white light. The orc might have been dumb but he recognised the axe and he gave out a cry of fear

"ARGH!! IT IS SILVER BLADE!". Yes the axe was called silver blade. With this weapon he had killed hundreds of orcs during the war between Orcs and Dwarfs a few decades ago and now the axe had passed to Buldur. A dwarf in the corner looked wide eyed at this magneficent weapon.

The orc was quaking in fear yet he did not want the dwarf to see his fear. To cover up his fear he charged at the dwarf and swung his schimter at him. The two weapons met and as they locked together a white light enveloped the whole bar and the orc was pushed by some invisable force and screamed as he flew through the air to the outside of the inn.

Buldur picked up the remains of his hand axe and returned to his boar and beer
"I suppose I should take this to a blacksmith. Well better wait till the morning" he said to himself while looking at the remains of his weapon.

Dûrdo watched a quite spectacular fight underneath him. It was obvious that this dwarf didn't have much left for orcs (or humans).
After a while, the dwarf's axe was broken and he seemed to be doomed. Then he uncovered another axe...
"ARGH!! IT IS SILVER BLADE!" the orc screamed.

Dûrdo left for his room and assumed the next scream he heard was the last sign of half-orc presence for a while.

"So much I've been going through to obtain theese daggers," he mumbled to himself, "And there, few feets away, there's a manic dwarf wielding the Silver Blade itself... Oh well. Not like I'd be able to use it anyway."

Smiling, he took a quick look into his bag, at two daggers. Both was slightly curved, one had a soft green light around it, the other was dark as death.

Assuming he was safe, he went to bed for the first time in some weeks. he removed everything, but the daggers from the bag and put it under his pillow, before he fell asleep.

OOC:

*has this bug eyed, slack jawed expression on his face before he slowly begins clapping*

Bravo to everyone so far! Nothing done wrong that I can think up of.

Paragraphing for all of you is excellent!

Welcome to all the newer players, especially those of you who have professed to be first timers! You're doing wonderful jobs.

Good to see some things are heating up, although to the more experienced ones, remember to try and keep your words to a more managable "bite size" so that the newer players won't feel so daunted at all the "advanced" stuff like history, shading, etc. that can come into play!

Let them digest it slowly, although I have to admit, you guys are advancing rapidly!

IC:

Surprised, Silent Hawk eyes the elf standing before him. Who was he to approach him just like this? Had he given himself away so quickly? The scarred warrior had not yet replied, and Hawk himself had not had time to reply to the elf when lo and behold.. a dwarf walks up to him and demands to know his business?

Before he could reply to either however, a great crashing bang sounded on the door, heralding the arrival of a great half-orc, someone whom Silent Hawk eyed with a little distaste. The half-orc grew angry, as all of their kind did so easily, and seemed intent on picking a fight with another dwarf who had only recently arrived as well. Things did not look good as the battle raged (OOC: I'm glossing over things here to speed it up) but eventually, the dwarf won the day, with the fabled Axe of the Silver Blade.

Sighing, he guessed that now was as good a time as any to begin to ask for adventureres to join him.

Closing his eyes, he quietly broadcasted into the room his thoughts into their minds.

*Everyone, now that the fighting is over, I see that this place is filled with adventurers, men of strong mettle. I would seek some of you to join me. I am Silent Hawk, monk of the Enlightened Path. And I seek to find and recover the Stone of Polonious. Any who would join would find fame and fortune, for I will not keep much gold except that which is necessary for my provisions.

Would you join with me then, ye who have approached me?*

This last he sent to the two standing before him, both the dwarf and the elf, and he watched quietly as he awaited their reply.

As the fight inside came to a crumbling halt, a silence hung over the room. Pieces of orc lay everywhere. "Serves 'em right!" said a voice, evidently with a dwarvish accest, outside.
"Quiet, you!" said another voice, this one more elven.

The hooded man in the grey robes stood outside, eyeing the surroundings outside. "Silly dwarf," he said. "And sillier orcs." A pause followed. "Perhaps it is time to start a little quest, here..."

Laudonia turned, and began to head back into the bar.

OOC: I figured since someone else already introduced a NPC it should be ok for me to as well. Any one can have their way with the shaman.

IC: Anehta kept to herslef in the back of the bar, enjoying the tussle between the dwarf and the half-ork. It had been a while since she had seen a good fight and the little distraction made the time without the shaman pass a little faster.
But not fast enough. Her impatience grew and she began to leave. When she rose a soft whisper came from behind her
"Do not be leaving just yet marm" came the very dry tone. " You have not found out my information yet." Anehta spun around in a complete suprise and brandished her warhammer. "Whoever you are, you picked the wrong lady to pick up on" she growled at the shadowed figure.
"No need to get violent. I am not sure your master would aprove you killing the informant" replied the figure.
"Impossible how did you get in here?" Anehta said.
"There is always more than one way into any circumstance. My Avatar himself told me those words. Now are you ready for the reason for our rendevous?"
The shaman continued, "You are to assist a monk who will showing up in this bar with a mission. You are not to question why or even with who you go with. He will take you to what you seek." The shaman then left his shadow and left, leaving Anehta to wonder what just happened. A message scanned through her brain as soon as the little shaman left, asking for adventurers. "The goddess moves in incredible ways" Anehta thought as she went up to the party of men at the bar. "First one that makes a pass at me, I will use my warhammer as a nutcraker" she thought with a bit of a smile.

OOC: Black are you transmiting your thoughts into everyone's mind or just Henry and the Elf? If so then... if not ignore what is below. If he just messages to them then I shall wrte something else that overwrites what is written below

IC:

Buldur was sitting down to his last pint of beer when he heard the transmition from Silent Hawk. He had heard about the fabled stone when he was much younger and now the thought of finding it excited him. Plus the offer of gold certainly persuaded him.

He walked over to the hooded monk, brandishing his axe. He bowed low "Buldur Longbeard at your service" he said, "I will accompany you on this quest though my axe needs reforging though it shall not be as strong as before. Smithys around here arn't as good as the dwarven furnaces. You'll have my axe"

OOC: See neo222's comment

IC:
Laudonia, standing outside, imagined the call as well. Indeed, he did remember the stone, a stone stolen long ago by a hideous liche, intending to use its power to raise the fallen elves in living death.

Indeed, undeath was the worst kind of defiance of the cycle of life. It was one thing to give a creature a second life, and another entirely to deny it death while not allowing it life.

The priest stood waiting.

OOC: By the way, I created Laudonia back when I still made the connection between The Prancing Pony and Brie on Arda. Laudonia is a priest of Namo, the Valar in charge of the dead on Arda (he's also called Mandos, which is the name of his hall). Should I get a new character?

Ariel had heard the monk's call for assistance, and wished so badly that she could have answered it. But Ariel was neither a fighter nor a healer, and had no services to offer. She sat there, downing beer after beer, in hope that the alcohol would numb a little of the immense lonliness she felt. The place was buzzing with activity of which Ariel could not be a part of. This was hardly the first time she had felt so useless. All her life, she had been seeking to find her identity, a clan which would accept her, but had found none. The women shunned her for her weakness, the men took advantage of her.

Even the stinky dwarves she had looked so lowly upon had a mission, a goal. But not Ariel. She had slammed the door on her past, only to be faced with the dismal truth that there was no future. All of a sudden, the world seemed to be whizzing by without her.

Ariel did not want to cry, but she could do little to stop the tears from cascading down.

OOC: You're all good. I Sent out the first half to everyone, and the last line to just the two standing in front of me.

>>The shaman continued, "You are to assist a monk who will showing up in this bar with a mission. You are not to question why or even with who you go with. He will take you to what you seek." The shaman then left his shadow and left, leaving Anehta to wonder what just happened. A message scanned through her brain as soon as the little shaman left, asking for adventurers. "The goddess moves in incredible ways" Anehta thought as she went up to the party of men at the bar. "First one that makes a pass at me, I will use my warhammer as a nutcraker" she thought with a bit of a smile.

Now THERE'S an interesting way to sidestep the OOC character knowledge issue!
It's a good way, but note that not everyone might like it. I don't mind personally, but always remember to ask first if in doubt, just as neo and the others did when in doubt over whether I'd actually *said* anything. All good though. *thumbs up*

IC:

*Who are you who approach me from my call? Do you too seek to find the stone? Do you wish to join me?*

He smiled benignly at them as they stood before him, awaiting an answer, when he heard in the heavy stillness of the tavern the sound of sobs.

Turning his head slightly, his eyes fell upon a robed woman sitting in a corner, crying.

*Be at Peace little one. Enlightenment comes only to those who would brave their troubles and overcome their fears* he mind-said softly to her.

OOC: Wheeee I was quoted. Its a good day. I just read what Blackmane wrote and that you projected the message to everyone. Sorry if anyone doesn't like it, this is my first time. But hey I was quoted so I think thats all that matters.

IC: Anehta turned to the follow where the monks eyes were. She then saw the young girl crying and immediatly felt a twing inside her armor. She remembered what it was like to be so young. She could tell from the way the girl fought her tears it was not a good thing she was crying over. The young woman reminded Anehta of her own sister fighting back tears over the body of Panethae, her sisters fiance, gorged by the lance of a human cavalier. Even if the shaman told her to follow the monk, she could not leave the young lady alone in tears.
Making eye contact witht he monk who summoned them all to the bar, Anehta turned on her left heel and went over to the youth at the bar.
"Buy you a drink lass? They say a friend's ale is better than a saint's healing for a broken heart. Why don't you tell Anehta who hurt you little one."

OOC: Should i refer to myself in 1st or 3rd person?

And heh, i dont really know of a good way to introduce my character into the story, so i will try

IC:

*the sound of heavy footsteps came from the other side of the bar, and standing there was a man, a tall, muscular fighter with stunning looks. He wielded a sword that seemed to radiate energy, and just stairing at the broad blade made your soul burn with lust and temptation as if you were tempted to grab power itself and hold it for your own greed. The man stood there, looking apon the woman in the corner with sympathy, like she was a sister to him. The mans name was Devon, he was a renound champion of honor that purified the land of evil and corruption*

"Whats wrong" the mysterious man spoke "Is she hurt"

Devon walked over and placed his hand on the wounded woman "You are not hurt, i sense not even a slight abrasion!"

Devon turned to the onlookers, "who are you people?" he said "Are you the cause of this girls pain?"