Roleplay Corner

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Some people have expressed an interest in a little roleplay forum, so here we go:
Rules; Anyone can play, in AORTA or not, roll up a 1st level, 32pt buy character with 120gp worth of gear. Head over to the Inn in Silverymoon and introduce yourself and see what happens.
Please, stay in character, only say what you say and do, dont say what others say (including NPC's)
Try not to block threads, i.e dont tie up a lot of other people in an action if you know you wont be able to respond for a few days.
If you need to say something out of character (OoC) please preceed it by OoC.
This could be a way to give us all some feel for what it might be like playing together in NWN.

Silverymoon has a pop. of ~26,000, humans, elves, dwarves, halflings and gnomes all dwell here in comparitive peace. Under the guidance of the High Lady Alustriel it has become a centre of learning in the North and is on the brink of becoming a part of a new nation, the Silver Marches. Law and order is kept by the Knights in Silver backed up by the Spellgard, plus the Harpers. However, evil can still be found, despite all the defenses.
Silvermoon is a place of beauty, straddling the River Rauvin. The famous magical Moonbridge lies in the centre of town.

The Bright Blade Brandished: Is a favourite with adventurers, the friendly staff are courteous to everyone, no matter how strange they may look. The serving maids know the regulars by name, and try and keep rivals apart. There are a couple of resident wizards who help to keep order by telekinesis and spell spoiling.
Not far away is Optym's Blade, a shop where weapons, armour and a variety of other goods may be bought.

[This message has been edited by Darien Noella (edited May 28, 2001).]

 

are you all beta testers or something?

 

We are not really bata tester exactly, we are all interested in NWN and thus ALFA. By creating role-play forums we are preparing for ALFA to come out in the fall. If you like RP I guess you check things out.

 

those recreations will only be available for members of those clans?
you cant join anymore, right?

 

To the best of my knowledge ALFA is still taking applications. I know things are filling up but I doubt things will be finalized before start time in Oct. If you are interested go put in an application.

 

OoC: No Kevlar, this is for anyone and everyone to play right here. I'll start off:

IC: A light rain was drizzling on the streets of Silverymoon as Thomas searched for a likely looking Inn. Before long he came to "The Bright Blade Brandished" and stepped inside. He shook the rain from his hair and unfastened his cloak to show the green leathers he wore beneath it and a lute he had slung over his shoulder. He approached the bar and smiled:
"A tankard of mead, if you please. Quiet in here tonight, how about I sing a few ballards and maybe attract a little custom?"

 

A hooded figure stalked down the streets of Silverymoon. The rain was getting worse, and Eridain realised that he would have to find lodgings soon. Rounding the corner, he sees what looks to be a fairly hospitable inn. Striding towards it, he looks up and sees the name "The Bright Blade Brandished". Pushing open the door, he enters. Lowering his hood, he reveals himself to be of half-elf origin, however his face is blemished with a nasty scar on the left side. Walking up to the innkeeper:
"Any spare rooms for a night or two?" The innkeeper says yes, and then proceeds with the usual spiel not to cause any trouble and the like. Having guaranteed lodging for the night, Eridain seats himself down in the corner of the bar, watching the patrons, and slowly sipping ale.

 

As the rain poured down from the heavens and scoured the streets of Silverymoon clean, A lone figure makes his way down one of the larger streets. Dragging behind him a large spear, the figure limps along at a slow, meandering pace. With little concern for the falling rain, he abruptly halts and leans momentarily against a building to rest.

Pumping his fist towards the sky and yelling out "WHY have you forsaken me!" he mumbles some meaningless jibberish and continues along his wayward path. Still dragging the spear by its end, the dulled tip skips along the cobblestoned street.

After several brief pauses for rest, the figure pauses in front of a largish building. Looking at the placard in front, he mumbles something about this being the place and steps into the "The Bright Blade Brandished"

Looking around he sees several patrons who seem to be losing themselves in tankards of ale. Not one to be too different, he steps to the bar..

"A tankard of yer finest ale" Swanic says in a forced rasping voice. "wait, make that 2"

The barkeep's eyes widen at the appearance of this stranger to Silverymoon. It had been sometime since he had seen one as wild-eyed as this. The barkeep looks the Elf over, clearly noticing the burn marks that cover his clothes and body. Without a word, he passes the two tankards over, and watches as the elf makes himself at home.

 

Thomas headed over to a table by the stairs. He set down his cap, took out his lute and began to play. The first was a song in praise of the Lady Alustriel, the second was about a party of adventurers ambushed by a mage who flung a fireball at them. He looked at the newcomer with a spear and raised an eyebrow.

OoC A map of Silverymoon can be found here: www.erran.fsnet.co.uk/smoon2.jpg
Plans of the Inn can be found here: www.erran.fsnet.co.uk/Smoon_Inn-1.gif www.erran.fsnet.co.uk/Smoon_Inn-2.gif

[This message has been edited by Erran (edited June 01, 2001).]

 

Down the street came a figure dressed in black with the hood up, and his face down towards the ground as if he was hiding from something.

Under his cloak you can barely see the tip of a large sword, and if you look a little closer you can spot some fresh bloodstains on it.

Acheron is the man's name, he is tired and in search of an affordable inn to maybe spend the night in.

Then he sees the light from a door opened and from that door he hears music, he moves up to the building and spots a sign on the door saying The Bright Blade Brandished.

He steps inside still with his hood on, looks around in a suspicious manner. Then proceeds towards the bar and says to the innkeep in a low voice "give me a piece of meat if you have any and a tankard of ale" He gets it and walks over to a corner. There he sits down with his back to the wall as if he needs to see everything going on.

 

The bouncing and jostling of the sturdy wooden cart had became a soothing rythme in the young monk's mind, so as the wheels ceased turning Jai'Tan snapped out of his meditative state.
"We be here Lad, I'll not be travelling any further this eve", the wrinkled old dwarf gives a gentle poke to the pile of straw in his cart.
Stretching his tight, cramped muscles, Jai'Tan peers over the edge of the cart, "The Bright Blade Brandished? We have arrived with much haste."
"Slept like a corpse ye did, we be travelling for two days. I've never seen the likes of it before," the dwarf casts a suspicious eye at his passenger, "Ye be lookin nothin like the robed group in the hills of Tethyr, I don't be takin' kindly to liars."
In a flash the nimble monk collects his meager possesions and stands next to the cart. Simple robes disguise the lithe body of a trained martial artist, but somehow his caucasian features clash with his Monastic garb. Reaching into his robes, Jai'Tan flips a silver coin to the cart driver,ignoring the old dwarfs inquiring stare, "Your aid is greatly appreciated, may our paths cross again."
The dwarf nickers to his old burro, and with a lurch the cart continues on it's travels. The creaking and groaning of the wooden wheels is soon masked by the rumbling in Jai'Tan's belly. Glancing at a sheaf of parchment in his hand, Jai'Tan starts for the door, "Promise of adventure can wait, this warrior needs some food..."

 

Just about the time the monk was entering a redhaired woman got up to leave her table (m).
"Farewell, and sleep tight" she said to her male companion, then she pulled up her hood and slipped out through the door.
The unshaven man took another draught from his drink, clutched his throat then pitched forward over the table, knocking the tankard flying.

 

Jai'Tan stands in the entrance to the inn, soaking up the sights and sounds. He had much to learn about life outside the monestary if he wished to see the next moon. Pictures and stories had made up most of Jai'Tan's life experiences and little had prepared him for this harsh new world.
Pushing his hunger aside, the cautious monk makes his way amongst the bar patrons, careful to not attract attention. The wary innkeep waits expectantly as Jai'Tan fumbles for the correct words, "A thousand pardons my good sir, er, I am in need of some food and lodgings."
"Oh hoa! We have a fresh one here lads! Come back when ye've dropped yer ma's apron strings boy!"
Feeling his temper rise, the young monk turns towards the sound of a lute. The soothing melody calms his nerves and soon he is mesmerized by the dancing fingers of a performing bard. These travelling minstrels were master story tellers and surely this man could help Jai'Tan as well as any. Bowing slightly before the bard the young monk stammers quietly, "Would you lend your ear to a few questions? The name is Jai'Tan..."

 

Slapping her hand on the bar, the middle-aged woman calls out loudly, "Two more ales, and hurry, now. My custom won't be waiting all night."

Running her hands over her too ample curves, she smooths her apron and snugs the strings a bit tighter, to nicely accentuate her full figure. Her hair is long and dark, a few wisps of grey at her temples the only sign of maturity. Her voice is gruff, but her eyes smile as the bartender slides her order across the bar. Swiping up the mugs with an expert grip, she heads off to deliver them.

As she approaches the table, she wonders if maybe these ales might not be needed after all. The woman has disappeared, and the man is apparently passed out. She slams the drinks down on the table, and wonders idly why the man doesn't react when the ale splashes his face. Pausing to look closer, she reaches for his shoulder to shake him awake.

"Sir, if you've a room, best be getting to it. If not, you'll need to be headin' off." At her rough shove, the man slowly tips sideways and crashes to the floor. The clatter of the chair falling with him can be heard throughout the room.

[This message has been edited by Darien Noella (edited June 08, 2001).]

 

Amidst several empty tankards of ale, the increasingly inebreated Swanic watches the commotion at the next table. At first he is shocked by the man's treatment of his ale, and gasps as it tumbles to the ground spilling its preciousness all about.

Slowly, his breath returns as he contemplates entering a state of mourning over the lost beverage. Spending several moments considering the possibility, he is once again distracted by the thing of beauty that appears to be heading his way, and behold, in her most delicate hands lay 2 tankards of that delightfuly tasty liquor which he had so recently embraced.

Floating as only one intoxicated can float, he now ponders the possibilities that this splendid female did present.

As he prepares to flash some smile, Swanic's heart falls, as the beauty stops abruptly, and turned, as if to give those two amazing sources of pleasure (and the Ale!) to the fool who just cast his beverage to the floor.

Dumbfounded, he now contemplates this new happening as a sudden sadness rolls in like a dark cloud.

As his gaze ( and once bright smile) drifts downward, he notices a small bronze token, which appears to have been recently displaced, only a few paces away from where the female companion of that dreadful ale spiller did once sit.

 

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, master Jai'Tan. My name is Thomas, called by some Rhymer. I have travelled far and wide throughout Faerun and I would be happy to answer any of your questions, especially if you have the price of a drink to wet my parched throat"
Before the monk could reply they were interrupted by the commotion at a nearby table. Thomas hurried to the man's side and checked for signs of life, there were none. He looked around then followed Swanic's gaze to the bronze token. Picking it up he noticed that on one side was engraved the symbol of a snake in a figure of 8, swallowing it's own tail.
"Now what in the 9 hells does that mean?" he asked, to no-one in particular.

 

"The pleasure is mine Thom...", before Jai'Tan can finish his name, the bard is on his feet scampering across the bar.
'Perhaps good will can be coaxed with good spirits.', whispers the monk to himself, "Pardon me miss, might I have two mugs of your house's finest...", Jai'Tan's words trail off as he regards the buxom serving maid. The figure before him was like no woman he had seen before and suddenly his new found confidence was lost once again. He had never met his mother, and females had not been allowed within the monestary walls. Feeling his pulse quicken, Jai'Tan forces his eyes from the maid's curvaceous form and poses his question once again, "Uhh.., my pardon miss, if it wouldn't be too much trouble..", sensing the bar maid's impatience Jai'Tan blurts out the rest, "Could I bother you for two mugs of ale?"
The bar maid is gazing past Jai'Tan in the direction of Rhymer so the young monk follows her gaze, "What do you suppose they have found?"

 

Thomas picked up the spilled tankard and sniffed it cautiously. He thought he detected a faint smell of almonds behind the aroma of hops and barley.
"Oghma's bones" he exclaimed, "I believe this man may have been poisoned! Does anyone here have knowledge of these things?"
A circle of onlookers was now forming around the corpse. No-one seemed to recognise the rather rough looking man. Someone went to summon the watch.

 

Whilst most of the bar just stood and were looking gormless at the body, Eridain drained his ale, and strode outside, looking for the man's female companion. As he left the inn, a coach drove by, splashing him with water, but other than that the street was completely empty. 'Great', the ranger said to himslef,'now I remember why I dislike cities'. Sighing, he walks back into the inn...

 

The tavern door swings open and a young-looking gnome walks in. Judging by the quality of his garments, one would guess that he was the son of a well-to-do merchant or guildmember, but his clothes are evidently in dire need of both washing and mending. His hair is straggly and unwashed, and he wears a scrap of red cloth pinned to the lapel of his jacket. Taking advantage of the commotion, he sidles up to an unoccupied table and surreptitiously slides a handbill under each coaster. He approaches the bar and asks for a shot of turnip vodka.

ooc. how essential is it to have a rolled up character. I don't have any rulebooks, but I want to take part in this
Sorry about the barkeep bit... I didn't read the introductory post that thouroughly... I've deleted it now.
[This message has been edited by Ironbeard (edited June 10, 2001).]

[This message has been edited by Ironbeard (edited June 10, 2001).]

[This message has been edited by Ironbeard (edited June 11, 2001).]

[This message has been edited by Ironbeard (edited June 17, 2001).]