View Topic

OOC: This is meant to be like Frostbite Tavern, with casual discussion and no major plot arcs.  Have fun, go wild, do what you want, but follow the rules and DON'T DESTROY THE TAVERN!  Everything is free, because it is all summoned with spells woven into the very being of the tavern.
Tavern Rules:
1. Do not break the furniture.
2. Do not break the windows(a draconian can go catatonic if it gets too cold, and there are three that run the Tavern).
3. No fighting.  It will be broken up promptly, with all parties in the snow and with lacerations to remember.
4. Do not summon anything inside the Tavern, unless given explicit permission.
5. NO GODMODDING
6. If you want to do anything weird(such as mating with another character(it happened at Frostbite)), be sure you have PMed that character and made sure it will be okay.  You will have to get a room in the inn above the tavern.
More rules may be added, but only if absolutely necessary.  There is still a lot of freedom left, and with it, a lot of opportunities to cause mayhem.  Minor amounts of mayhem are actually expected, but don't ruin it for everyone.  Don't be that guy.
The mate and the son are NPCs.  If I am away for a week or more, assume I'm following along, and just continue.  The mate is named Salen, and the son is named Daleen.  There is also a female snow wolf named Naelan that has recently pupped, and is going through early motherhood.  She is not an NPC.

IC: Sae climbed out of bed, and stretched, the burly draconian trying to remember what he'd done the night before.  Then he looked back at his bed, and saw his mate.  "Oh, yeah..." he muttered, smiling, as he dressed, heading downstairs to the tavern he and his mate ran with help from their offspring.  reaching the tavern proper, he was greeted by a chilly stone floor.
"I need to warm this place up," he muttered, and walked to the fireplace, setting a magical fire in it.  He unlocked the door, and sat down behind the bar.  His mate soon came down, and went into the kitchen, readying the day's food.

* Wintermoot goes to the tavern, because apparently as Monarch it's all he has to do first thing in the morning.   However, he finds that the door is locked, so he starts knocking at the door because he needs food and drink.

OOC: @Wintermoot, the door is already open.
IC: Sae'taer opens the door, which turned out to be stuck, and, upon seeing his visitor was none other than the Monarch himself, says, "My king, welcome to the Tavern of the Last Moon!  Is there anything you would like?" Realizing his son wasn't out of bed yet, he yells, "Daleen!  Get out of bed before I dump you on the floor!"

OOC: I'm pretty sure that part about unlocking the door wasn't in the OP before.

IC: "Hi, and thank you!", comes the reply. Wintermoot then walks over and sits on one of the stools, contemplating the question. Finally he decides on something and replies "Why yes, I would like some sausage and eggs. I was sent out of the castle early this morning without breakfast and I am mighty hungry! And some hot cocoa to go with it, that would be lovely."

*Fortis a skeletal wraith by nature, and a writer by trade, finds himself out of his usual comfort zone in the Halls of Art and Writing. Unsure where to go, he wanders into the tavern, a book in one hand and a writing quill in the other. Without saying a word to anyone, he pulls down his hood, finds the darkest looking corner and sits in it.

OOC: Hope I'm doing this right. 

*Fortis a skeletal wraith by nature, and a writer by trade, finds himself out of his usual comfort zone in the Halls of Art and Writing. Unsure where to go, he wanders into the tavern, a book in one hand and a writing quill in the other. Without saying a word to anyone, he pulls down his hood, finds the darkest looking corner and sits in it.

OOC: Hope I'm doing this right. 

OOC: It's fine.
IC: Sae glances at the wraith, before offering Wintermoot the best seat beside the fire, and disappearing into the kitchen for a time, and returning with a platter loaded with links of sausage, fried eggs, and fluffy scrambled eggs, as well as a mug of hot cocoa, and flanked by a smaller draconian, who was rubbing the sleep from its eyes.  He looks at the wraith again, and says, "Is there anything you would like?"  Noticing the wraith was in the darkest corner, Sae dimmed the magical fire in the hearth slightly, hoping to make the wraith feel slightly more comfortable.

Gracefully flying into the room, a female elf mage sits next to the counter before running through her spellbook. "Damn, I need to get rid of that stain," she mumbles slightly too loud, and looks up to see all 4 eyes and 2 eyesockets staring at her. "That'll be one roast owlbear steak with a frostlake salad, please," she asks.

Salen walks out from the kitchen, carrying the food requested before the order was complete, and set them down in front of Syraj, before disappearing into the kitchen again.  Sae watched his mate, a look of pure, unadulterated adoration and love.  As she disappears back into the kitchen, Sae mutters, "I am the luckiest guy alive."

Gabriel was angry, though the reasons were unknown.  All that was known was that there was murder on his mind, as he blasted open the tavern doors and slaughtered everyone, then focusing his rage on the countless pieces of furniture as he tore them to bits.  Nothing was safe from his rage, nothing.  Not even the now broken glasses or ruined ceiling.

Gabriel snapped back to reality as he shook his head.  What on earth was that about?  He tried not to think about it as he stepped through the door of the clearly not-ruined tavern, taking a seat near the end of the bar.  "One ale, please" he said simply as he waited, attempting to put whatever that whole scene was out of his mind.

Wintermoot takes a fork and piles into the assorted breakfast foods while basking in the glow of the fire. He eats, and eats, and eats...and realizes maybe this is how he became such a fatty. With that thought, he finishes the last of the sausages, resolves to eat a light lunch, and sips the hot cocoa while staring into the fire. After awhile, he notices that there's been little conversation the entire time he's been here, and resolves to change that. Flagging down Sae, he asks "Out of curiosity, what led you to start a tavern in the colds of Wintreath? Hardly seems to be a place a Draconian would want to live and set up shop."

Gabriel was angry, though the reasons were unknown.  All that was known was that there was murder on his mind, as he blasted open the tavern doors and slaughtered everyone, then focusing his rage on the countless pieces of furniture as he tore them to bits.  Nothing was safe from his rage, nothing.  Not even the now broken glasses or ruined ceiling.

Gabriel snapped back to reality as he shook his head.  What on earth was that about?  He tried not to think about it as he stepped through the door of the clearly not-ruined tavern, taking a seat near the end of the bar.  "One ale, please" he said simply as he waited, attempting to put whatever that whole scene was out of his mind.

OOC: I think you need something stronger than ale, my friend.
IC: After bringing the ale to Gabriel, Sae settles into a seat beside Wintermoot.  He says, "This is something of a long story, so bear with me."
He gestures toward the fire, and it turns white.  On the screen the fire has become, a draconian is walking in a cave, alongside a smaller, more slender draconian.  "I was born in Wintreath, as was my mate.  We lived in a cave for over a hundred years, and, just as my mate laid her eggs, snow demons attacked.  Only one egg survived.  We hiked across the frozen plain, cocooned in spells to keep ourselves alive.  She wanted to settle back down, and I'd always wanted a tavern.  Hence, the Tavern of the Last Moon."

IC: Sae glances at the wraith, before offering Wintermoot the best seat beside the fire, and disappearing into the kitchen for a time, and returning with a platter loaded with links of sausage, fried eggs, and fluffy scrambled eggs, as well as a mug of hot cocoa, and flanked by a smaller draconian, who was rubbing the sleep from its eyes.  He looks at the wraith again, and says, "Is there anything you would like?"  Noticing the wraith was in the darkest corner, Sae dimmed the magical fire in the hearth slightly, hoping to make the wraith feel slightly more comfortable.

IC: Fortis grasps his ink bottle and discovers it is empty. With a creaking sigh akin to a tree branch cracking in the wind, the wraith stands up tucking his book under one arm. He slowly makes his way to the counter next to the elf mage, his eye sockets flicker to light with two solemn blue flames in place of eyes. "Do you have any spare ink?" he asked, his voice hollow and distant leaving the patrons and tavern keep alike wondering who he was directing the question to.

OOC: He's trying to address the tavern keep 

Upon realizing a question was being asked , Salen shook her head vigorously, as if to shed cobwebs, and said, "I have some blue.  Will that work?"

IC: Fortis took the bottle of blue ink from the Draconian woman and opened it. He pulled back the sleeve of his robe, took his quill and dipped it in the fresh ink before testing it on his by now well painted radius bone. "This works... Thank you..." With the new ink bottle in hand, the Wraith started back towards the darkest corner of the room.

OOC: I think you need something stronger than ale, my friend.
IC: After bringing the ale to Gabriel, Sae settles into a seat beside Wintermoot.  He says, "This is something of a long story, so bear with me."
He gestures toward the fire, and it turns white.  On the screen the fire has become, a draconian is walking in a cave, alongside a smaller, more slender draconian.  "I was born in Wintreath, as was my mate.  We lived in a cave for over a hundred years, and, just as my mate laid her eggs, snow demons attacked.  Only one egg survived.  We hiked across the frozen plain, cocooned in spells to keep ourselves alive.  She wanted to settle back down, and I'd always wanted a tavern.  Hence, the Tavern of the Last Moon."

Wintermoot attentively listens to the draconian's story of how he and his family ended up setting up shop here, nodding occasionally to indicate that he was following along. When the story was finished, he thought for a moment and then replied with a follow-up question. "Yours is a harrowing story. I'm sorry that you suffered the loss of so many eggs in that attack, but it's fortunate that one survived. I'm curious though, why didn't you go some place warmer where you didn't have to worry about the elements? What is it that kept you here in Wintreath?"

With that, he finishes the last of the hot cocoa, placing the empty mug on the counter and begins pondering on what beverage he would like next.