Tavern of Infinity 2

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Velve dodges the stab and says to Lithien:
-"I am not a follower of Lolth. She is a betrayer of the Drow and it was her fault that we were banished to the underdark. But if you don't understands this you will have to die."

THen he turns to Morningstar:
-"I have honour but Blackstaff's wife is a well respected mage and is one of the best arcana users in the Realms so I don't think that it will be a much easier fight. But if you must have it this way then she can live."

Velve putted his bastard sword back into the scabbard and walked to the two other drows.

 

" Take this outside, pointy-eared scum." Shura moved aside his cloak so that the hilts of his swords were visible. A sudden chill descended upon the room as the squabbling elves realised they were within a blade's length of the swordsman.

" There is to be no violence within the Tavern and I shall enforce that rule, as I owe the owner that much at least." He said. The barkeeper shot a withering glance of resignation at Shura. He grinned and offered a shrug.

" The next one that makes a move that I do not like dies." He told the elves.

" Better do as he says, gentlemen." The barkeeper motioned for his waitress to bring out a mop and a bucket. " He has slain entire nations of your kind before even when they had gods or demons on their side. It could get pretty messy in here so please, take this outside."

Shura's grin widened, baring his teeth. " So what will it be, kiddies? Shall we all sit down and play nice, or shall this place rain with elven blood, because none of you have any chance of shedding mine; one at a time or all together..."

OOC: seriously guys, can't we all get along? after what happened to the first tavern...it would be really unpleasant if an all out brawl broke out.

 

Sheathing trhe blade, Morningstar turns to Shura, "My piece is done in this fight, and will heed what you say. I'd offer to help you, but I'm sure you're quite capable yourself." with that he returned to his seat.

 

-"Hey, don't look at me. I have lowered my blade so I am innocent, for now. It's just that they have to take care of their affairs, not mine."

 

ooc: Drow and moon elf get along? Not bloody likely.

IC: "Oh fine, screw this," Lithien sheathes her sword and wanders off to her table, deciding that it wasn't really worth seeing whether this swordsman was as good as he said he was.
Using her psychokinetic powers she summoned a drink over.

 

OoC - It is likely if your like is on the line and that Velve originally hates the drow for what they have done to him. It is possible.

 

OoC: DO I have to give my char a name or my nick is fine?

 

OoC: It would be better if you used a name. I don't think it matters if its your nick or any other. In case you're wondering though, this isn't like the SP battle.

 

OoC - Alexander the Great is a useable name if you are a half-orc, ogrillon, half-ogre, giant or something big or a great warrior or things like that.

 

Alaeila sinks back in her chair, glad that the conflict is over--perhaps for the time being anyway--and starts looking about the room for someone she might talk to.

 

Seeing that the Drows will not harm the mage wife and will fight the mage himself one on one, he decideds to sit down where Morningstar and Lithein are already seated.
Wondering allowed the halfling says "Can we really trust them?"
After a while of muttering to himself he relised that his swoard is still out. Quickly he shiefs it, hopeing noone noticed.
Looking around the tavern to see if there was any damage caused he spots the new occupants.
He stands up, telling Morningstar and Lithien he will be back. Nirneath then walks over to where the young elf is sitting, and asks "Mind if I sit down?" He quickly takes a seat before she can answer. "Do you mind if I ask what you are doing in this place? and how you came to be here?" Nirneath asks, getting straight to the point.

 

ooc: Heh, if only you weren't discussing murdering innocent people. Our characters could probably get along quite well. Lithien was once a half-drow. Long story there.

 

The gray dwarf, Regar, stands up and goes to the barkeeper.
"D' ya have more Dwarven Ale? I'm bloody thirsty." He gives the barkeep a gold piece and sits down in his corner drinking his ale. He looks like as if he is waiting for something.

 

OoC: Sorry for my delayed response, I've been on vacation for the past 4 days. I'll put in what word I can, even though the brawl is over and I would have liked to have some say in it.

IC: The drow mage listens to Lithien's and the halflings rants as well as those of Morningstar without any oppinion on them whatsoever.

Arian: "I have no intention of killing any of you at this moment. I have no quarrel with any of you, save the moon elf if she does not watch her tone about my race. The god I worship is not of your concern, nor are my motives. I'll not provoke battle, not yet. However, I have no intention of sparing this mages wife for honor's sake. I will attack whichever of the targets is more vulnerable. If you find my actions deplorable, think as such. Take it up with me if you must, however, my objectives remain the same."

With that the drow goes back to nonchalantly waiting for a response from the inhabitants of the tavern, some of which he has surely upset.

 

The doors open, revealing for a split second a figure standing at the door, but a sudden, fierce gust of wind slams them shut, smashing into the figure's face. Someone at the back of the room, obscured by the smoke of various narcotics, laughs a cruel laugh. Two seconds pass, and the doors open again, revealing the same figure, rubbing his nose.

He is a rather unimpressive fellow, clad in a rather worn robe, and wearing mismatched socks. His eyes are dark green, and have a look of vague worry plastered over them. He seems slightly preoccupied, like he can't keep his thoughts focused.

About the only thing that's really interesting about him is the staff on his back. It looks completely out of place on this man. It's about five feet long, made of incredibly hard looking wood, polished to a shine, and topped with a strange looking skull that gives the impression of smiling inanely. Actually, from a distance it looks like a happy face.

He gets his thoughts together long enough to see the two groups of elves sitting opposite each other, and muttering. The tension is almost visible. Glancing around, he realizes that he's completely out of his league. Warriors, demons, lowlifes, archmagi, there doesn't seem to be a species or occupation that isn't represented here. And most of them are watching him. He sits down at a table off to the side, sets the staff down leaning against the table, and tries to get the barmaid's attention. Finding his efforts in vain, he leans one elbow against the table, rests his barely-unshaven chin on his palm, and stares blankly off into space, the preoccupied look returning.

 

ooc: Hey, peoples, want to continue this story line is another thread at some point in time? It might be interesting to try and stop a bunch of PO'd drow

 

OoC: Hehe that it might. Why not just continue it in this thread though?

 

ooc: Well your hardly going to go kill Khelben from the tavern. No point in hijacking a perfectly good thread in such a way.

 

ooc: That might not be such a bad idea. Using the same characters I hope?
How would you like to get the thread now.
I'll just have to remember which one I'm replying to.

 

ooc: We should mayhaps wait until the people involved leave the tavern