Untitled (open rp)

World’s End Tavern: Role-play and Fan Fiction
Gallius yawns as he stretches his arms and opens the door into the pub. He steps into the threshold and instantly the aroma of ale and boar chops fills the air. The sound of dwarven music and chatter consumes the room. His mouth now salivating he pulls up a chair and leans back taking the delicious smell in.
(where is this taking place? Can you give a bit more description as to where and what you may have in mind?)

In the corner of the room at a table with a mug of ale in front of him, sits a hooded man. His face is shrouded in smoke as he puffs on an ornate pipe. The light is dim in this corner and he has his back to the wall. Not far from his position is a back door.

Anyone coming in would have to look very carefully to see his eyes, though he can clearly see anyone who happens to walk in. Smoke wafts lazily around his face and drifts away as he removes the pipe from his mouth with one hand, the other hand picking up his mug of ale and taking a sip.
(I left the setting out to allow other players to develop this story more. I have nothing in mind as to what this will become, but would like to see other players adding onto the story in whatever way they would like.)

As Gallius intakes the festivities he browses the room observing everyone in it. "Well everyone seems to be in a happy mood tonight." he thinks to himself. As Gallius finishes his observations his eyes lock onto a mysterious man in the corner. Unable to make out any physical appearances due to the poor lighting Gallius looks away, dumbfounded as to why this man was sitting in the dark by himself.

After a few moments Gallius hears a loud thud above him and looks up. Judging by the sound of it they were footsteps,heavy footsteps. "What the hell is that noise? Gallius asks a nearby patron, who looks at him and shrugs his shoulders. All eyes were pinned on the ceiling, music, laughter and dancing had all stopped. It was quiet.

Gallius became uneasy and gripped the hilt of his sword and prepared for the worse.
Dyna, adorned in her usual heavy armor, deadpans.

The scarred, crooked-nosed woman sets down her mug of watery ale, blue eyes darting upward to the rafters above her accustomed place at the bar. Her awkward, uncomfortable leaning shifts immediately to an alert stance, gauntleted hand fluttering down to touch an empty leather circle at her belt- with a noteable grimace, she reaches instead for the pole arm at her back.

Her gaze snaps from the ceiling to the bar's other patrons. With a terse nod she points to Gallius. "You. Let's check it out."

Clearly, this is a woman who is accustomed to being heard- her voice sounds better suited to a battlefield than a bar. Her words are growled and, without waiting to see if Gallius is accompanying, she strides for the door, glaive gripped tightly.

The well worn floorboards bear her authorititative tromping well, though the sound isn't near so loud as what goes on on the roof. The tension in the air is palpable, but, uneasily, most of the patrons return to their drinks; the typical tavern chatter resumes, if more quietly than before- a dozen sets of ears strain curiously to hear what the hubbub is about.

((I hope this is okay. I haven't done forum RP in forever, and I didn't know if it was the second story or the roof or what- I'm just kind of going with it! If it's wrong, please don't hesitate to correct!))
An elf stepped off of her mount, a large hippogryph that typically carried members of the Argent Crusade, onto the roof of the building. She had tried to make a more quiet landing but her beast could only manage so much. She nodded over to it and the beast flew off into the sky, leaving the armored female alone. She knelt down to inspect the roofing for some entrance before moving to a window nearby.

With a swift motion she flung herself through the open window into an empty room, her shining plate armor clattering loudly as she moved. Her hope was that the tavern's normal noises would be enough to mask her entrance. She adjusted her golden armor and pulled a large sword from her back before slowly opening the door and peering out into the hallway to see who was around.

((Just as a reference, as my character is not the one pictured, it is a blood elf with mostly judgement armor, other than the shoulders. They are the tier 6 paladin [what tirion has on for the DK starting zone quest] ))
Light bristling over the haft of her glaive, the ugly woman murmurs a terse prayer through her clenched teeth as she strides, stiff-legged, for the door. Someone's got to see what's going on, and clearly, she feels it might as well be her- besides, a bit of fresh air would be welcome reprieve from the musky smell of stale beer and unwashed patrons. It wasn't exactly the most high-class joint she'd ever been in, but it was a far cry from the worst.

Her gaze passes right over the blood elf, her head jerking in an absent nod, before she double-takes; wait, what?

Eyes darting to the drawn sword, Odynae's glaive lifts, one hand leaving the haft as she hisses a prayer. Holy energy flares over the dull red of her well-worn armor; there's a brief flash of eerie illumination across the battered panes of her scarred face.

Quick as a blink, an ethereal hammer draws to her palm, and the Light fades from her armor, consumed by the rapidly conjured spell. There are no questions; in lieu of Theramore's destruction, she's hardly in the mood for a conversation first.

The hammer flies for the Sin'dorei in paladin armor, the energy made for incapacitation- in spite of the aggression in the rough woman's stance. Should she be hit, the blood elf would merely find herself momentarily stunned.
The elven paladin noticed the hostility of the human as soon as she realized she had been seen. She began to step backwards to gain a better footing when she saw the hammer coming at her. With a small curse she leaped back, but only fast enough to avoid some of the blow. The wave of force as the hammer smashed against the door frame where she had just stood was enough to disorient the Sin'dorei. She stumbled back and nearly lost her grasp on the blade as she struggled to regain her composure.

For a few seconds she was standing in the room, her vision blurred and her body feeling sluggish as she fought off the daze from the attack.
She doesn't wait to study the effects, doesn't even seem to be counting on the attack to have had any impact at all- already the woman is moving forward, casting hand once again gripping her glaive. Her lips have thinned, her eyes narrowed in concentration- any other nuance of expression would difficult to read past the disfiguring scars that dominate the left side of her face.

Still, her motions are the controlled, practiced- not the wild, forceful movements of someone driven by rage. As she moves to follow the other paladin’s stagger, the glaive shifts in her hands- and as the weapon lashes out, one might note that it was the butt of the spear, not the blade, that was striking.

Dyna’s blow flies for the other woman’s hands- specifically, for the grip she has on her sword, already looking shakier than it had a moment ago. As she strikes, she’s following up, drawing just a pace closer- but intentionally keeping her range advantage.

If everything goes the ugly woman’s way- which it seldom does, really- the Sin’dorei would find herself disarmed, with the pointed end of the glaive leveled in her direction. Regardless, Dyna places herself firmly between the apparent interloper, and the rest of the tavern, as is her custom. Perhaps not the smartest move for a woman not wearing any sort of protection over her head.

She barks- in broken, butchered Thalassian-

“Why door drink stand? Button! Squirrel.”

Her tone… is interrogational. It’s unfortunate that her Thalassian vocabulary is so much worse than she realizes.
A human priest, fully attired in robes, a small dagger and spell book attached to his belt, enters the room to find a blood elf, dazed and struck by the butt of a glaive by a larger, human in heavy armor.

The human, taken aback for only moments, quickly intercedes with a calming tone. "Please, please! Calm yourself, the two of you. We are in a place of rest, and food. At the very least, if you're going to kill one another, please take it outside." The human, after speaking, gestures to the door he just entered from.
[OOC: I had taken this for an Ally tavern, due to the dwarven music described, and the fact that the blood elf came in through the window and seems furtive ('realized she was seen', 'hope was that the tavern's normal noises would be enough to mask her entrance'). *shrug* If I'm the only one who read it that way, my bad- my character could simply be overreacting to the situation. However, unless she agrees that it isn't Alliance, I'll continue to assume it is; sorry about any confusion!]

The paladin startles at the arrival of the priest, eyes only briefly leaving the Sin'dorei woman. Her lips pull back to reveal teeth in a grimace and she jerks her head impatiently.

"Look at the eyes- this is no High Elf, come for a peaceful drink."

Her voice is terse, but dispassionate; her grip on the spear doesn't waver, the point firmly aimed at- but not touching- the other woman.

She takes a step to the side, to allow the man to pass if he wishes, but her hard eyes remain fixed on the Sin'dorei woman. A strand of her poorly tended hair loosens from her braid, resting on her unscarred cheek.
(oh none at all, I assumed it was a neutral tavern, one where fights break out all the time. My character is one where he breaks up any fights, unless it involves killing orcs, I read it the same way, with the exception of it being a neutral tavern, of course. But I did agree it seemed as if she was sneaking it.)

"You may be right, but perhaps you should save your anger, for a more... deserving target?"
((I had thought it more of an alliance inn as well, which was the basis for the way I had the elf enter. Not to mention it gave a good reason for the 'thud' earlier, or at least I thought so.))

The elf felt her hands being smacked roughly, enough to knock the blade from her grasp. She shook her head quickly in an attempt to shake off the daze only to see the tip of a glaive pointed at her face. She narrowed her eyes, and started to build the power of the light within herself. When the human spoke in Thalassian she lost focus and just stood there looking dumfounded. She spoke in fluent common, confusion very evident in her voice, "Did... did you just call me a squirrel? You are trying to pry information out of someone using a language that you obviously don't understand. Not the wisest of moves, on your part." She started to build the light inside of herself again, having regained her composure.

The Sin'dorei's stance slowly shifted to a defensive one as she said aloud, "But please, mighty human, do not harm me! It is all just a misunderstanding! I was investigating a noise when you jumped to attack! Why would you try to kill a poor, defenseless elven mistress such as I?" She couldn't help but sound sarcastic when 'begging' the human with the weapon. For one who was unarmed at the tip of the glaive she seemed rather calm and confident.
((So sorry for the delay hurrr Thanksgiving- hope y'all are still around!))

The woman's eyes roll as the priest speaks of anger and more deserving targets. Teeth clenching, she returns her full attention to the hapless elf, keeping her aim with the spear wholly steady; there's no tremor, no gesticulating or erratic jabbing.

A quirk of her gingery eyebrow betrays mild surprise as the elven woman speaks perfectly understandable common. The eyebrow rapidly lowers back to its previous furrow as she continues on in her cheeky way. Carefully, Dyna edges nearer, still keeping out of the elf's apparent reach. The tip of her glaive doesn't move from where it is, but the paladin would make to kick the sword out of reach.

"If I was going to kill you, you'd be dead." She speaks quietly, voice calm and cold. "And don't feed me that line of tripe; you don't belong here and you know it. What's your game, Sin'dorei? Why would you throw yourself at the enemy like this?"
Fizviz walked in to the bar his face covered with a thick warming cloth which in fact had been put there because Goblins didn't like the cold. He watched the woman speak cheekily to the blood elf and rolled his eyes. Such hostility over nothing, not even any gold was involved in it, how dull he thought but he kept his peace to him and walked toward the bar ignoring the Dwarven party upstairs which at least he thought he had heard but he was probably off like everything else about this place.

He walked toward the bar keep now keeping on the cloth. He had weapons on him but they had been stuffed away in a small bag he brought in with him. He was in a bar not Outside, why would he need weapons. "Hey you drunken cow give me some beer will you?" He asked of the Bar tender who in turned mumbled something with the slightest hint of agiation. "No not Dwarven Stout! I want some of that Pandaren crap. You know Chen Stormstout and what not." He nodded as the dwarf pull out some.

"Four gold will ya please?" He said handing the drink and Fizviz rolled his eyes. What did he look like a Trade Prince or something, so what if he had a couple thousand gold stowed away in back accounts he wasn't a rich goblin, well he was but he only was for being such a cheapskate.

He handed the dwarf 50 copper. "There you go." He said looking at the barkeep who looked like he wanted to strangle the Goblin. "I am kidding of course." He handed 25 more copper just to defuse the situation.

"No good peice of Mule Turd Goblin I tell yer." He mumbled to himself. Fizviz didn't care he had gotten his drink and he was happy he listened in to the others who had been aruging profusely.
The elven paladin saw her chance once the human made a move to knock away her sword. She unleashed all of the light that had been building in her in a massive blinding wave. The effects would be temporary, but should stun the human long enough to act as her eyes had barely left the Sin'dorei since their meeting.

She quickly lunged to the side after her blade and rolled to her feet before it. With a smooth motion she scooped the sword from the floor and jumped at the human, bringing the blade up in a wide arc to try and smack the glaive aside and give herself an opportunity to close the gap between them. Should her maneuver be successful, which would depend on the human's ability to react, the paladin would follow through with another quick slash to bring the point of the sword close to the woman's throat.
Valenae sat at the end of the bar, hood drawn to hide her blood elf race from the other patrons, sipping her wine slowly. She, like everyone else, had heard the commotion upstairs and her interest was peaked. Throwing some copper down for the counter help, she grabbed her sapphire staff and slipped silently from the barroom.

The mage crept towards the noise, curiosity getting the best of her. Pausing at the top of the stairs, she peered cautiously and saw one of her own people being attacked by one of those irritating humans. A scowl crossed her porcelain face, anger now seeping to the surface. Recalling one of her spells she strode up to the doorway, pointing her staff towards the human, and a burst of ice shot forth, freezing the woman to the floor. "Stop!" she called out, throwing her hood back to reveal her elven features, "Get ahold of yourself human, what has she done? It is in your kinds nature to 'over react' isn't it?"

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