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 Post subject: Tavern Brawl (DDR)
PostPosted: Mon Dec 06, 2010 5:03 am 
No secrets for me in MW
No secrets for me in MW

Joined: Fri Jan 16, 2009 6:41 am
Posts: 455
Location: Palm Desert, Southern California.
(Now, I know that this setting has been a bit overused, but I figured it'd be a nice place to get back into things. This is also open to everyone.)

Eragid's flight from the temple was caused by his lack of ability to fight someone that when he wasn't injured, could easily destroy with a small fit of effort. Now, he stood amongst a crowd feeling awkward, as usual. Why, oh why did I show such cowardice? Now I'm stuck here trying to figure out somewhere to sleep! With my luck, I'll be stuck in the stables!' He thought to his dismay. He looked around him, in a circular motion, trying to find a small tavern that he could afford. To his left, there was a small tavern, Ye Olde Creeky. Shifting his sack full of books, he headed straight for it, decidedly trying to finally get out of the downpour.

As Eragid Dorf'llhoff walked into Ye Olde Creeky, he noticed instantly the heat emanating from the fire place. It made the tavern have a sort of homely feeling. The large tapestries hung from the walls served as a sort of insulation. The owner probably didn't do this on purpose though. After taking a wide sweep of the room, seeing it moderately inhabited, he headed for the bar, intending to get a hot drink. The bartender was a redheaded man of about five foot seven. His freckled face was warm and friendly. Eragid gave a thankful look back when he asked what he wanted to drink. Eragid ordered a hot chocolate, for alcohol made him angry after consuming large portions of it, and he could never really stop once he had one. He moved to an empty table in the far corner after receiving his hot mug of chocolate. He sat in the chair, set his sack on the table, and shifted his shortsword so that it was slightly more comfortable to sit. He opened the sack, pulling out the first book he saw. It was titled A collection of magiks. He set upon reading it.

About two hours later, the barkeep approached him, asked him if he had somewhere to sleep. Upon hearing a stuttered no, he immediately offered a room. It was cheap too, and just enough space for Eragid. He stepped up the stairs and looked for room four. It was homey, with a bed, small fire place, and a bureau. He stacked his books neatly on the bureau, lit the candle and the fire place, and dressed into his night clothes. He went back to studying the magicks by the dark ethereal firelight. He was trying to figure out what was the norm for mixing magicks. Tomorrow, he would have to search out a psionicist to attempt a recreation of the effects of what happened during his supposed 'training' battle. Of course, this time, he would create some form of barriers to protect both him and the psion from the terrible effects from last time.

After four hours, he extinguished both fires, and crept into the warm, cozy bed. He had figured out that if you mix magicks, normally they phase through each other with no effect. He had also decided that the strange man who hit him with a teleporting fireball was the cause of the weird explosion. Unfortunately, he still was going to test it out, and after the psion, perhaps he would find a mage to help him. He set a new goal for himself. To explore magick unto its fullest, and attempt to master it. He could potentially have discovered a new form of magic, or possibly a more powerful version of his previous form. But for now, it was nice to be in a warm bed with a full stomach. Sleep drew on his heavy lids, enticing him to enter it's realms for a few hours before rising to the sun and the world. He allowed it to pull him into its sweet ecstasy, and embraced it like his lover.


The next morning, he rose fully rested and hungry. After getting dressed and packing his notes into a small backpack, he strapped his shortsword on, and headed down the stairs for a small supper and some coffee. Upon arriving at the first floor, he noticed only a few people sitting, and the fire still lit. He went to the barkeep and ordered a coffee and two eggs and a couple of links of sausage. He recieved his order with a kind thank you, and sat down in a large arm chair by the fire, and started to consume his food.

People came and went, time passed, and still, Eragid revised his notes, theorized, revised some more, theorized some more, and made even more revisions. He spent nearly three more hours pondering what could have caused such a reaction. And still, he was left clueless. None of his books seemed to explain why such an effect could have presented itself. He was still revising and talking to himself when the door crashed open, thumping against the thick wood of the frame. A figure stood in there, shadowed by the gloom of the room. Eragid squinted his eyes to attempt to make out the entity that caused such a ruckus. The form glided over to the bar and demanded a beverage, of which he could not decipher the contents. Eragid hoped the person wasn't looking for trouble, but prepared himself for confrontation if needed. Being good natured, he forced himself to prepare a warning if s/he approached him. He looked pointedly at his notes trying to look inconspicuous.

(You are the form, if you couldn't tell. This shall be fun :D)

Death follows unbound, seeking purification.

Stop being the prisoner of your past, become the architect of your future.

 Post subject: Re: Tavern Brawl (DDR)
PostPosted: Mon Dec 20, 2010 4:13 pm 
Can't wait for MWO
Can't wait for MWO
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Joined: Wed Apr 05, 2006 3:25 am
Posts: 1935
Location: IN THE NAVY!! Yes you sail the seven seas! IN THE NAVY!! Yes you can put your mind at ease!
(I refuse to be the form! =P )

Tyzrk stood on a roof of bricks, inhaling a great, husky breath in the gray morning. Trying to feign a smile, she climbed down the short rooftop down onto the floor, landing gracefully on one knee. Her landing caused a circle of dust to emenante from her flowing clothes. Regaining her posture and taking a breath, the elf surveyed her surroundings, walking rather suspiciously. It was only until she found the local watering hole that her movements were less tense. Casually she walked inside, so as to not alarm anyone, or let too many people notice she's there. She sat down, refusing any help or service from the bartender, and simply sat there, waiting. The melancholy gray sky, the cold breezes that shook the swinging doors, and a lonely elf sitting at the bar with nothing to do. To some this may constitute a bad, boring day. But to Tyzrk, it was nearly perfect. This sort of weather was quite nostalgic to her, and she basked in it, sitting on the bar stool closest to the wind.

Then, soon came a rather large figure, slamming the doors open as he took rather loud steps inside. He wasn't 'big' like the other bar-goers, but rather, big in the sense that most of his weight consisted of muscle, rather than the other weight-influencing substance these alcohol consuming peasants did. Giving a stern sort of eye to the approaching man, she sat still, waiting for him to sit down. Hopefully he wasn't looking for trouble, but there was something in his eye that made her curious. The bartender kept his professionalism, and asked what the man wanted. In a rather contrastingly quiet voice, the man slowly pulled out from his trench coat, a strange, rounded wooden object with a handle, asking for a great amount of gold in an empty bottle. Tyzrk's eyes fixated on what little she could see of it, but was able to determine what it was - "An armcannon!" Surely this thug would be able to simply scare the bartender with his shear muscles, but he possibly feared the rather drunk public to come to the barkeep's aid. This sly dealing kept him free of suspicion.

For some reason, he still allowed the elf to see what he was doing. Perhaps he thought that she wasn't much of a threat. Perhaps he assumed she would be as scared as the keeper - if not from his form, than from his armcannon. Perhaps he didn't expect her to set one foot on her stool, and raising the other, her shin quickly making forceful contact under his chin. Her metal-equipped shins hit a rather vital point, knocking him quickly off his feet, and, with a slam, landing on the bar floor, unconscious. The kick required her legs to be at quite a flexible angle, though she did so with ease, all the while balancing on one foot on the creaky bar stool.

Checking to see if he was going to be getting up anytime soon, she took hold of the armcannon, inspecting it. "Tch, it's fake! she scoffed, tossing it aside. The poor welding broke apart as soon as it landed halfway across the bar. She then turned to the barkeep. "Well, you get to decide what to do with him. I'm sure to you, it's just another unconscious fool, isn't he?"

As a favor, she was asked if she would like to have a drink - on the house. "It's alright - I don't drink." she chuckled. Her face was blank for a while, listening to the barkeep before starting again: "Why am I here then..? Well, because..

I heard someone peculiar was in town. Surely the pub'll know a thing or two about'em."

Tyzrk, the Arch-Wizard

leboyX wrote:
and then pounce on them. To make sure they know we're dead.

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