Tavern of Infinity 2

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OOC: Yes, this idea just struck me. I hope I don't draw the moderator's ire, but I thought that this might be fun, especially for the newer members of SP that missed out on this:

http://www.sorcerers.net/cgi-bin/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_topic;f=12;t=000007;p=1

Anyway, this is the Tavern of Infinity, for everyone and anyone to post a fantasy persona in a extraplanar place of neutrality.

Here it goes:
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The walls were made of an unidentifiable light-blue metal. No trace of rust showed upon its surface despite the building’s evident age. Within, countless small, round tables lined the length and breadth of the common room. Every table was ringed with a number of floating discs that served as chairs. A luminescent globe hovered above the center of each table, providing illumination that changed in hue according to a patron’s whims.

This is the Tavern of Infinity, an establishment that exists in between planes. Here, drinks of all sort are sold, as are any kinds of mind-altering or sensation inducing substances. No organization may enforce their jurisdiction here; no deities may extend their will within the confines of the Tavern, save through mortal agents. All are welcome, few are turned away and many have died through the utter disregard for the Tavern’s sanctified rule of neutrality.

A curious being mans the bar. His strange body seems to be an amalgam of flesh and metal. One half of his face is covered by a veil hanging from a headband and the other half sports a single large eye, blue in its entirety and bereft of an iris. His mouth is perpetually set into an expression of smooth politeness.

He hands a drink over to a barmaid, an ethereal creature female in shape, but composed almost utterly of energy motes. The barmaid acknowledges the gesture with a sibilant, eerie call and brought it to a man sitting in a corner. She places the drink onto his table and flits away. The barkeep turns towards his earliest patron and executes a polite bow.

“ Greetings, mister Shura. It has been a long time since you were last here.” He said. The patron was a white-haired man clad in a flowing cloak of black. The globe hovering over his table was dim, shedding barely enough light to illuminate his grim, battle-scarred features and the hilts of his two swords jutting from the shadowy mass that his cloak made his body seem to be. The semblance of youth had not left his face, though his dark, narrow eyes had seen horrors and atrocities to wither a man’s soul and his callused hands had committed them on more than one occasion. He had lived far longer than he had a right to, his youth and vitality bolstered by an unholy source.

Shura raised his drink in a silent toast to the barkeep.

“ Indeed.” The swordsman replied. A flicker of a smile crossed the barkeep’s otherwise emotionless face.

“ There was quite the commotion the last time you were here, mister Shura. I wonder if your current visit is a precedent of things to come.” Shura grinned and remained silent. His gaze swept across the Tavern. Soon, more patrons would arrive…

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Hope we get some entertainment value out of this...

 

An electric hum fills the air, increasing in intensity and becoming a high pitched whine. Sparks dance along the metallic surfaces of the bar, coalescing around the doorway. As the whine reaches its peak a cloud of smoke appears then disperses with a shower of sparks, leaving a bedraggled looking gnome sitting in front of the door. He is covered in soot, obscuring the mystical sigils on his long cloak and blackening his round, innocent face. His hair and beard are singed and stick out at bizarre angles. Wiping the grime from his goggles, probably the strangest of the many rune-encrusted and bejewelled trinkets he keeps on his person, he surveys his surroundings "Incredible, " he breathes, "The planar jump was successful! Albrecht Stefanovich, you've really excelled yourself this time." Not taking the time to dust himself down, he pulls a scroll and over-elaborate inkpen from under his robe and begins excitedly taking notes, occasionally muttering "Astounding!" and "Fascinating!" to himself.
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hee hee, couldn't resist....Wonder how this one'll turn out.

[ May 09, 2003, 07:04: Message edited by: Ironbeard ]

 

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Just as Albrecht Stefanovich started to scribble franticly on his scroll, a portal opened above the bar, spurting out in much dissarray, a quite singed and rather annoyed looking human. Annoyed to the point of spouting several quite loud and rather rude suggestions as to where the guard could put their wizards and their rather poetic fireballs. Getting up, he seemed rather astonished to see the gleaming blue walls and sparkling electrical resonance of Albrecht Stefanovich's rather unusual entrance.
"Hang on, this isn't Neverwinter, is it?, what the hell is wrong with that guys head, why is my hair standing on end, what is with these walls, why can i see through the barmaid..."
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ooc: Time to test out an advanced version of what I hope one of my Nationstates characters will become

IC: The young female moon elf found herself appearing in the middle of a tavern that was fast filling with people. She looked around in slight irritation before deciding that there was probably a good reason she had been transported here.
A small shining metal symbol hangs her neck and shows a silver long sword outlined against a silvery moon with filaments around it in a nimbus (Eilistraee's).
Lithien takes a seat at a nearby table and sifts through her backpack. After discovering that what she was looking for wasn't there and probably on some far away plane of existance she looks around her and takes note of those that are already in the tavern.
Her gaze is immediatly drawn the the eccentric looking gnome, then to the obvious flustered man ranting on about nothing in particular. When she caught site of Shura she was amazed. Getting that many scars was quite a feat.
'What in the nine hells am I doing here,' she thinks to herself, 'And where the hell is here?'
Finding no answer forthcoming from herself she called the bartender over and ordered a drink.

[ May 09, 2003, 11:58: Message edited by: Aikanaro ]

 

The door opens, and a medium-sized human pushes his head through the narrow opening and cautiously looks around with quick eyes, after a quick observation he presumes its safe to walk in... He pushes the door farther open and after three steps he clumsily bounces into a scribbling gnome "Oh, oops, sorry, didn´t see you there".

After his clumsy intro, he quietly walks to the bar and tries to avoid to bounce into other patrons, he succeeds and sits down in a dark quiet corner of the bar.

"An ale, miss" he says with a small almost unintelligible voice.
The barmaid steps up to him, "Tell me, whats your name".
"Oh, erm, Morgoth, I am somewhat new here, can I get my ale please?".
"Maybe" the barmaid replied "but, first can you give me your age?".
"err.. 22" he says while trying to evade eye-contact with her, she wasn´t very convinced and kept staring at him.
"Okay, okay, 17" Morgoth replied annoyed, the barmaid made a wrinkled smile and grabbed a bottle with lemonade and a glass, she poured the lemonade into the glass and added a straw.

Morgoth mumbled and accepted the drink..

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This is the first char I made for roleplay, tell me what you think

[ May 09, 2003, 13:40: Message edited by: Morgoth ]

 

One of the things that ticked off Jacques Mengrovian, was things that disturbed his plans. And what was this, if not distraction? The portal that opened in the middle of his office at the middle of a quite important business meeting, scaring his business partner quite witless and requirng him to perform a partial memory wipe and replacement on him, sending him away with new memories of an urgent familial emergenecy. Which, of course, had to be engineered. Mengrovian informed his secretary to arrange the man's wife to have a car accident, before informing he was not to be disturbed under any circumstances.
Now... the portal. Quickly, he ascertained it to be fairly "safe" as portals went... not leading to another planet or a demonic plane. With a smirk, he retrieved his full-length leather coat, checking his appearance from the mirror covered one of the walls.
Jacques Mengrovian was an attractive man in his early forties, with sharp green eys, full lips and a high forehead many mistook for a receeding hairline even if this was not how it was. There was cruelty to his features, masked by the pleasant smile he always wore to the public. He was dressed in a black suit that had been tailored to fit him perfectly, with a black shirt and a tie, covered by the long leather coat.. He grinnedat his reflection as he brushed a hand thorough his hair, before turning to retrieve the contents of the locked cabinet behind his desk.
From the cabinet, he selected several sleek knives, both of the normal as well as the throwing variety, tucking them into his clothing, as well as his favourite weapon.... a Desert Eagle.

Satisfied with his looks and equipment, Mengrovian smiled and stepped thorough the portal.
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Appearing at the other side, ahken sliightly but not showing it, Mengrovian took in his surroundings. This place looked to be some kind of a drinking establishment.... He looked at the patrons, noticing an elf, a gnome, that person was probably a wizard...
With a smirk, Mengrovian strode to the bar, not paying any attention to the weird looks of the bartender.
"Greetings... I have never seen you here. What would you like, sir?" the bartender asked.
Mengrovian gave him a condescending little smile. "A glass of Merlot," he said.
He arched an eyebrow when he was handed a glass almost immediatley, surprised that his request had been complied with. He turned around, sipping his drink carefully, noting that it was of excellent quality.
As he did so, he noticed a patron he had not noticed before... a white-haired man, with scarred features and a sense of danger about him.

Mengrovian smiled. This was what life was all about, yes? He sipped his wine and slowly strode tot he table the white-haired stranger sat at and spoke confidently, with an arrogant smirk curling his lips. "Hello, there. My name is Jacques Mengrovian.... and you would be?"

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(ooc: Although their names somewhat match, this is NOT the Mengrovian from Matrix Reloaded. At least I think so.... Sorry about the lenghty build-up.)

Edit: typos, and some brush-ups

Edit 2: another note: even if he may sound non-fantasy right now, he's not... he's a plane-hopper who's residing in an alternate-Earth, for now. He's originally from another plane... just to let you know

(Head... hurts....)

[ May 10, 2003, 10:02: Message edited by: Arabwel ]

 

Lithien twirled her long blue hair as she watched the new entrances, especialy caught by the human that so boldy (or stupidly) walked up the the scarred man. She had a feeling that he was not going to leave all in one piece.
After sipping at her drink again she decided against socialising at this time, it was more interesting to watch the follies of others after all, though she really didn't want to have to intervene if the scarred man took of the weirdly dressed mans head.

[ May 09, 2003, 13:58: Message edited by: Aikanaro ]

 

At the entry of the first newcomer, Albrecht practically lit up we curiosity. He was on the point of running over when his attention was caught by the appearance of an elf...and then by a human in somewhat outlandish garb. Torn by indecision, he glanced between the three, allowing his choice to fall to two as the strangely garbed one began talking to the swordsman. Eventually he decided on questioning the elf and headed over, pulling out another scroll as he did so.

"It looks like you're another plane jumper" he gabbles, forgetting formality and courtesy in his enthusiasm, " Let us compare notes. I used a modified thaumaturgical resonator of my own design, " he pauses, brushing some soot off his clothes, " which has some unfortunate side effects," he gestures at a crudely drawn diagram on his scroll, " possibly due to these aetheric fluxions..."

 

Lithien sits up, rather alarmed that the gnome was intending to engage her in some conversation that was utterly confusing and meaningless to her.
"Well, erm, I honestly have no idea how I got here," she said while fiddling with her holy symbol. "And um, what plane are you originaly from anyway?"

 

Albrecht struggles to hide his disappointment at being unable to pick up tips on planar travel. "I hail from the prime material," he answers, "to be more specific, a world named Aber-Toril and an island named Lantan. Ah...but where are my manners. My name is Albrecht Stefanovich, " he extends a grimy hand, pauses, wipes it on a less grimy patch of robe, then extends it again, "pray forgive a humble gnome the excitement of discovery."

 

Lithien extents her slight hand and shakes with Albrecht. "I am Lithien, also of Toril, though hailing from darker regions than you," a split second of anger and hatred flashed over her face before she was able to control herself again.
"I am sorry," she appoligises in her musical voice. "If you are looking for plane travel try hanging out with a godess that see's fit to land you in any random plane for no apparent reason. Cheap, quick, easy, and ineffably annoying."

 

Albrecht chuckles "Ah, the capriciousness of the dieties, eh? I think I prefer that I'm responsible for anything wierd that happens to me. That way, at least it's at least a learning experience...speaking of which, would you happen to know where we are...I had hoped to jump to Mechanus but...Ah, excuse me...there is something I must do." He reaches into a deep pocket in his robes and produces an exotic wand, three intertwined rods, topped with a strange multicoloured gem, around which dance strange patterns of light. He waves it around Lithien, carefully examining the way the pattern changes as he does so. "No, " he mutters, returning the device to his pocket, " Entirely different...but then again, it is rare and fortuitous when the arcane and the divine overlap."

 

"What in the Nine Hells are you doing?" says Lithien sharply, not exactly pleased that this gnome is doing strange things with gems to her.

 

Albrecht takes a step back. "Oh...puh-please forgive me my curiosity..." he stammers "I was taking measurements of aetheric disturbances and thaumic vibrations to learn about your jump...purely innocent I assure you...I apologise again, I frequently get carried away with my research..."

 

From the second layer of Baator, Dis, comes a Barbazu, presumably on some sort of reconnaissance or diplomatic task from his cruel masters. Of course, neither is very likely, as the Barbazu are not exactly the most cunning or brilliant of the Baatezu.

Kanorr, the Barbazu, scratches his filthy beard and gnaws on a blood-stained glaive. Muttering to himself, he not-so-surrepitiously eyes the other guests of the Infinity Tavern.

"Nootrality. Balance. What joke. Devils destroy all not right. Destroy all nootrality. Make the planes in our image, so it will be."

He continues muttering to himself and eyeing the gnome, swordsman, elf, and other people of the Infinity Tavern.

Turning to a bartender, he leers toward the man, and points to Shura with his glaive.

"Sees the crazy man? Wrong. He wrong. Deserve to die, he do."

[ May 09, 2003, 21:20: Message edited by: Oaz ]

 

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Recovering from his earlier shock, and several burn marks, the man that had so recently fallen from a portal in the roof pulled himself together and walked over to the bar.
"Hello, don't suppose you know how i got here, do you? No, wel, since I'm here, don't suppose you havbe any use for a quite severely singed bard do you? Hello?"
It was then that the man realised he was talking to a statue, and corrected himself by approaching the quasi-visible barmaid.
"Don't suppose you heard my conversation with naked over there, did you? Good. Do you have any work for a bard? You know, singing, dancing, playing, acting etc. I can wash dishes if you want. Do you speak english? Usted habla español? ? Sprechen die Deutsch? Hell, goblin? I only know urgath in goblin, and I think it means meat. Umm, common, elvish. Oh bugger. Just get me a drink. It's gonna be a long day. I wonder if that funky looking man with the Vercaci can help. Hell, I'l settle with the gnome if it comes to it."
And with that, decided to confront the rather odd looking man with the black leather cloak.
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Lithien listens closly to the flustered man's raving, "A bard, eh?" she muses to herself. "This could be interesting. Anyhow, what do you think of that demon that just rocked up? Think it'll cause too much trouble? My bets are that this tavern is going to end up a smoking wreck soon." She sits back in her chair and takes another sip of her drink, studying the demon and bard out of the corner of her eyes.

 

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After trying repeatedly to get Armani to notice him, and failing, the man decided to go and nurse his soon to be gin and tonic at the bar. "Barkeep, yeah, you. The one with the funky eye, come here. I want a Ginan Tonnics, and i don't want to wait. A man gets blown to bits be fireballs, distracted by nude statues and see through tavern wenches and he needs to ask to get his drink. Where is that drink, i ordererd it at least 2 seconds ago. Why in the palace of the emporer of Darth....gmbmbmle.....many things......as big as THIS...."
And with that, skulked to the corner to avoid the enormous thing and its keeper dominating the doorway.
"Hmphm, I didn't get a bloody doorway, I had to come through the ROOF! grmbl...mmbl...."
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Shura nodded politely to the man in the outlandish leather coat. There was a slight hint of recognition in his eyes.

" I am called Shura. You would hail from the plane called 'Earth', I presume. A plane devoid of magic and in which buildings of steel and stone reach to the sky..." He said softly in the english tongue, a language not to afar from the Common western tongue used in the kingdom of Gryloas. " Your accent...French, I would say, though I cannot be too sure. My companion during my last trip to your plane was vehemently verbal on the French." The swordsman raised a hand to conceal a grin of genuine humor.

" Hail and well met, Jacques. Enjoy your time in the Tavern." Shura finished his rambling speech.

Jacques seemed mildly surprised, though he took a seat opposite the swordsman. The man in the leather coat carried himself with an air of deadly confidence, a fact not unnoticed by Shura. He swirled his drink.

" You have been to Earth before?" He asked.

" On two separate occasions." Came the reply. " Though it would appear that Earth has multiple versions of itself, for I have arrived in two drastically different planes with the same name."

" Ah, a seasoned planeswalker not unlike myself." Jacques seemed intrigued. " Perhaps we can swap tales..."

" I have no objection. My bloodlust has been sated very recently and I am in the mood for some conversation, particularly on a subject as fascinating as the planes..." The swordsman replied. He laid a hand on the hilt of his katana and an aura of menace instantly emanated from him, halting the barbazu that was approaching him in its tracks.

" You must die!" The fiend snarled. Shura sighed in mock exasperation.

" Begone, little demon." He drew his black sword a handspan from its sheath and gashed his forearm slightly, opening a wound from which thick, black blood spilled forth. The gore sizzled as it hit the Tavern's floor, drawing a resigned groan from the barkeep. " Do you not recognize my patron? Leave me be if you would not draw His ire." The barbazu backed off, suddenly unsure, until a barmaid placed a goblet of drink in its claw, driving all thoughts of violence from its mind.

Shura sheathed his katana once more and returned his attention to Jacques, whose eyes were alight with curiousity.

 

Jacques sipped his Merlot, and smiled. Yes, he had picked his company well... it had been quite a while since he had spoken to anyone he could deem anywhere near his equal. The people he dwelled amongst in the Earth plane were far from it, but this man... Yes, this would prove to be enjoyable.

"You are mostly correct when you assume that I hail from Earth, and that my accent is French... For I have spent hte last thirty years residing on the plane of Earth-2. Well, most of the time. Planar travel is, after all, such a.. fascinating... thing." he looked at Shura, running a finger over the rim of his wine glass. "Originally, I hail from the plane of Mengrov... thus, my name." he took a sip of his drink. "Mengrov has a rather low level of civilization... I am sure wherever you hail from is quite more advanced. However, we had quite an interesting aspect in our culture.... psionicsm. Every man or woman in Mengrov was, to a degree, a pscionist." Again, Jacques sipped his wine, completley at ease telling this story to this scarred stranger. "I began planar travel when I was but a young boy... for you see, I was born to a life of slavery and servitude in the house of our king." he spat the words. "When I realized that the 'weakness' of my mental gifts, at least on the scale my people used, was due to the fact that they manifested as a capability to planr travel, rather than telepathy or telekinesis..." Jacques smiled in fond remembrance, his eyes glinting as he spoke, "Lets just say that finding a way to teleport to the King's chambers before departing the plane for good was something I deemed not only appropriate but also extremely satisfactory."
With a smile, he leaned back on his chair, raising his glass to look at the dim light glinting thorough the remains of the wine. "Of course, there is no going back... after all, I am the only Mengrovian left. The entire plane was wiped out fifteen years later... TO my immense satisfaction. OF course I had my hand in it." a smirk graced his featres. "When I stumbled to Eartyh-2, I liked what I found. Their civilization is quite advanced, their wine good," he gestured with his glass, "Their women beautiful and when compared to Earth one... well, I prefer a world where people still appreciate the art of blades, amongst other things. But especially the blades." A wicked smirk appeared on his face, and he drank the last of his Merlot, licking the last drops from his lips in a delicate movement. "The wine is better, too."
Then, he looked at Shura, still smiling. "And what plane do you hail from, Shura?"
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(*sniffles*)