"Well thanks anyway." Alistair said. He left the tavern with the intent of searching elsewhere. "Well I may as well try another tavern." He said to himself. He walked for a while then went into the tavern that Eden and the rest occupied. Seeing the odd looking group, he brooded, thinking that they would know as much about Herobrine as the halfworlder he had just spoken with. "Well it's worth a try." He said and sat down next to Timberwolf. Putting on a smile, he greeted them. "Mind if I join you? It's hard to find good company around here."
Announcement: I am back and will be posting for myself again.
Yes, I am traveling, but I am traveling to find the place that I left, my home village.
Kelsier's Publicity Agent
Hammond reigns in their horse on a hill overlooking the small town, resplendent in their white robes. After surveying the area, they ride down the hill heading for the closest tavern, planning to listen for gossip about local happenings, specifically those that need a violent answer. After all, one must play to their strengths.
Potato Lord
Palayen casually strolls into the quaint village, whistling a jolly little tune. He offers one of the young children a jovial smile, his grin piercing through the darkness seeming to coalesce over his face. The child immediately turns and flees from the rather odd plated man, who froms at the boy's sudden retreat. He continues onwards, plate and chain rustling as he moves, a regal purple cloak swaying in the slight breeze. His breath is tinted with the stench of ale, but seemingly not enough, as he quickly turns towards the nearest inn. Barging through the door, he calls out a merry greeting to its occupants, a smile once again piercing through his cowl.
The rarest of pepes.
EAT YOUR GREENS
We are finally back up and running! Thank you to RustAndRuin as well as Palayen for once more completing our group of ten!
The Timberwolf watches the ongoing scene in the tavern quietly, which is as follows:
The masked person reaches out to thump the person in the light cloak, but at the same time the darker-cloaked person alerts the target of Eden's annoyance. This results in the light-cloaked one somehow turning around just in time to catch Eden's thump with their arm, making them seem a lot cooler than they probably intended.
"Well, hiya. You doing well today?" Their tone is nothing if not friendly.
As this happens, a man in testificate robes comes up near to the Timberwolf, and without hesitation immediately greets the man.
Shylock waits, and soon enough a man in a green jacket comes by and stops at the stand. "'Ills healed,' eh? Healed by what, may I ask?" He cocks his head to the side as he delivers the statement - it would seem that he is genuinely curious.
Up on the spring hill, Hammond enters just as someone else exits, and begins to listen to the conversation in the tavern. One stands out - a group of halfworlders, at least several of which are close to falling off of their chairs in laughter.
One of them finally catches his breath and wipes a fake tear out of his eye. "Whoo. 'Study Herobrine' indeed. That man is dead by daybreak."
Palayen enters the nearest tavern and finds - well, it appears to be a not-so-diverse group of people. They all appear to be human, dressed in fairly high-quality clothing and holding conversation politely with each other. Compared to them, the wayward man sticks out like a sore thumb, fine armor or not.
When everything changes nothing changes.
Potato Lord
Palayen continues to smiles merrily, moving towards the bar in peppy strides. He ask the barkeep for a strong pint of hard cider, leaning against the bar as he wait for his drink. He scans the crowd happily, looking for anything particularly interesting. He toyed casually with his rich purple tabard, tracing the golden eye emblazoned across it's front with a finger. He armor and arms clatter slightly as he shifts positions, taking a deep, satisfied, breath. "Oh, it is truly good to be alive", he says to seemingly nobody at all.
The rarest of pepes.
Three options quickly fly through the Timberwolf's head. First one was to go berserk and kill everyone. Pros: extremely therapeutic and stress reliving. Cons: identity revealed. Option 2: Challenge this man to a duel and kill him. Pros: Slightly therapeutic. Cons: Identity revealed. Option 3: Talk to the traveler, who might have information on his crew. Pros: Possible information. Cons: Talking. In the end, Timberwolf decided to talk. After a delicate swig of mead, he turned toward the man and replied in a thick north-lands accent, "Yes, good company is rare. Say, I am looking for some people, do you think you could help me?"
The Locke To Your Demosthenes
Sy stares at Candice for a moment, then sighs. "I suppose I'll need to have talk with my innkeeper then. Anyway, if you don't mind me asking, why are you bottling this water?"
edited 17th Sep '15 2:22:48 PM by LockeToYourDemosthenes
The enemy's gate is a spirograph.
Uri continues his search for the fence, stolen items filling his pockets. Although he makes it a habit to engage nearby marks (because everyone is a mark, after all) in conversation to get their guard down, he makes no attempt to speak with those he passes; He's new in town, and doesn't want to risk starting any trouble just yet
It would require a singularly stupid man to do something like that. I am most definitely that man.
Black Hat
The Cloak turns away from his unwanted companion. Although they seem interesting and do appear to have potentially important information, he had learned that it was best to deal with people only when you could have their undivided attention. After all, threats only work if you can seem threatening, which is difficult when you're vying for attention. No matter how fragile the third conversant may be.
This is definitely the darkest timeline.
Kelsier's Publicity Agent
Hammond quickly crosses the room, and orders a (nonalcoholic) drink (the orange). As their drink is being prepared, they ask the barkeeper about outlaw activities in these parts; one always looks for a contract first, after all.
Anasurimbor Exits his room, and walks outside, looking for innocent passerby.
"The miracles of science, kind stranger! If you are troubled by any manner of ache, pain, or disease, I'm sure that I can soon create a tincture to ease your woes!" Shylock shivers internally at the cheery mask; unfortunately, most people do not react well to those they think are truly altruistic. Everybody expects a con.
Alistair's interest was piqued at the sound of Timberwolf's accent. "You're from the north-lands I see." He said amiably. "Well I've lived up there for several years of my life. Who might you be looking for?"
"Yes," Eden replied in a low tone as they pulled their arm back. "...Who are you? You— I— You know a lot, after all."
EAT YOUR GREENS
Sad announcement: I will be away for around a week and probably won't have any internet. So no updates.
Happy announcement: I will be away for a week and probably won't have any internet. So I'm going to go on a drawing spree and probably draw your characters.
As Palayen scans the crowd, he notices several people glaring at him. Clearly, the man is not exactly wanted in such a high-class establishment.
That's when a black-haired man in a purple shirt comes up to him and claps him on the shoulder. "Ah, I was wondering when you'd get here! It's good to see you again, partner!" He adds something in a low tone. "The people here are not very friendly. I figured I'd best step in before things came to blows."
In the sketchy tavern, the Timberwolf manages to resist punching Alistair as the latter begins inquiring as to who the Timberwolf is searching for.
The Cloak calmly sits back and allows the two people nearby him to talk, which the people - or at least, his unwanted companion - do with gusto.
"Haha, me? I'm a swordsmith. The swordsmith, actually. Best out there."
The man standing in front of Shylock taps his chin thoughtfully. "Ah, I see. Well, in that case, do you have something that would heal burns? I find myself needing that kind of thing quite frequently."
Uri continues looking around the town for the fence. At the same time, he also notices a very wizardy-looking person walking around, as if also in search of something.
At the springhill, Candice offers Sy another friendly grin before responding. "Well, yanno, I've heard that tha springs 'ere have, ah, healin' properties? Jahst what I've heard, howevah."
Hammond, inside the springhill tavern, quietly inquires as to outlaw activities. The barkeeper smiles a bit grimly. "We've not had much trouble, actually. Not yet, at the very least. But I've my suspicions that the Nochites are up to something."
When everything changes nothing changes.
Potato Lord
Palayen looks to the man, smiling happily. "Oh, I wouldn't want that. It would be a shame to murder an entire tavern of pompous assholes on my first night in the town. Palayen, at your service." He says with a sweeping bow, a grin plastered on his face the whole time. "Now, how can I help you, friend?".
The rarest of pepes.
The Timberwolf visibly tenses for a moment when the stranger mentions his stay in the Northlands. It is possible that the stranger could recognize him or his companions as notorious raiders. The Timberwolf decides that he has to know about the stranger's time in the Northlands and the knowledge he has. "Really? What would one such as you want in the Northlands? We do not get many visitors from the south." The Timberwolf asks, pulling the hood of his cloak down a little further over his hidden face.
Kelsier's Publicity Agent
Hammond leads closer. "Is that so? Tell me, how popular are they in this town? and if the answer to that question is 'not very,' is there a priest or two that most people wouldn't mind, well, disappearing?"
Following his mysterious co-worker's advice, Uri makes his way to the "shady" part of town, looking for the aforementioned tavern.
It would require a singularly stupid man to do something like that. I am most definitely that man.
Black Hat
Suddenly, taking a passive role in the discussion wasn't nearly so appealing. "A swordsmith you say? I don't suppose you've tried your hand at any other kinds of weaponry, have you? If so, then I may just have some work for you, 'friend.'"
This is definitely the darkest timeline.
Anasurimbor strides down the middle of the town's main street, small pieces of debris bursting onto flame as he passes them. He eventually makes his way to what appears to be the social center - a tavern, and not a particularly nice one. He is decidedly out of place in his fine clothes. The hinges of the door warp slightly as he enters.
"Burns you say? What sort of burns? The intensity and cause of the burn are of the utmost importance if I am to be able to help, you see."
Shylock waits patiently, trusting that something will happen.