The Lion's Return

[Lateral]

Evening grows over the kingdom of Eredil, covering the land in a blanket of darkness.

In the kingdom's western-most reaches, upon the Kings' Road which ran from east to west across Eredil, there lay a bustling inn named 'The Friendly Bed' - though now the inn is beginning to grow more quiet, its occupants retiring one-by-one from the common room.

But for some, such luxury is not granted - and so it is that the teen, Garad, hurries about the common room, wiping at those tables which have been abandoned, and retrieving dirtied cutlery. A number, some dozen or so, of patrons still occupy the common room, but to most of those the servant-lad is all but invisible as he goes about his various duties, leaving the patrons to engage in conversation, drinking, and various other activities.

 

[The GrandMage]

Tobias, Third Level Wizard's Apprentice

Tobias sat at a table near the door, quarterstff next to him leaning against the wall. He looked around as he ate from the bowl of stew in front of him. It was warm, and it was filling, and that's all that mattered. The taste helped, but that wasn't what he was focused on, although he paid it some measure of attention.

No, at the moment he was reading. So few people were taught how to read these days. Some might have suspected from his simple robes what he was, but more likely he'd be thought a young pilgram moving about the lands in search of some holy something-or-other.

In fact, he was busy studying one of the two spellbooks his master had let him take from the tower. He was trying to figure out why his spells never seemed to work,....

And making little headway.

 

[PmTick]

Leoic breathed a sigh of relief as he made his way over the ridge. He looked down into the valley and realized he had finally arrived in Eredil. His attention turned to a rather nasty gash on his upper arm, the result of a run in with a wild boar a few miles back. Making his way down the ridge, Leoic was set on looking for a healer before finding an escort.

 

[Lady_Siren]

Saria entered the tavern pulling her hood furthur over he face. She sat at an empty table in the back and ordered a bowl of soup. WHile she waited she studied the occupants curiously. Noting the boy rushing around cleaning up the tables. Dismissing him as unimportant she smiled when her soup arrived and began to eat savoring the taste and smell of a well made soup.

 

[cats]

Xeil

IC: I was careful useing my staff to get down the stairs, I had been useing this room since I was blinded by that damn dragon. In all a few weeks, still I was sure I couldn't use it much longer, my money was runing low.

I came down here to get drunk and sale my armor. Then again I've tried doing this for the last few days. It always began with one drink and ended with me being shown to my room. The boy here was kind enough to do that each night.

I reach the bottum of the stairs and began to find my way to the bar. I found the first availible seat and took it. "Give me a drink." Damn that lizard, I don't even know what to do with my life now.

 

[The GrandMage]

Tobias, Third Level Wizard's Apprentice

Tobias glanced up, looking around as two people entered the room. One, carefully concealing themselves under a hood, sat in the back. The person ordered a bowl of soul. That person had come from outside.

Another came from upstairs. He was obviously blind, and looked to be a warrior of some kind. He looked them both over, and turned his attention to the mysterious one, wishing he knew the spells to be able to identify people.

But those were for far more powerful magicians than himself, and even a Wizard like his master had problems with those kinds of spells. He finished the last of his stew, setting it on the far end of his table for the servant boy to pick up, pulling his book closer and looking over the spell to repell annoying insects.

Why couldn't he make that one work? He forwned, reading it carefully and going over the steps in his mind.

 

[SwampThing]

Nanny Og

A damp, green fog crept towards the inn in the night. The firelight through the inn's windows glowed in the dark green haze. Through the fog, ravens came and perched on the inn's roof. Then a huge black vulture. Toads hopped out of the dark and squatted outside the doors and windows.

Then a pair of fat white boars, with fat hairy orcs riding them. The orcs carried spiked clubs, and wore stupid, tusky grins.

Finally, Nanny Og approached the inn. The hunchbacked old orc woman had one bulging yellow eye, wild grey hair, and a python wrapped around her shoulders. She gestured to her boys with a huge, bloody cleaver.

"Alright dearies, here's the inn. Kill anyone you like and we'll have them in the pot. But save the young prince for your Nanny. The King'll pay dearly to be reunited with this poor, lost, tender little boy."

 

[Lateral]

Garad

As of yet, no-one in the inn has noticed the oncoming evil.

Garad, after collecting as many of the dirtied mugs, plates and cutlery that he could carry in one load, retreats towards the inn's kitchen, balancing his ungainly burden as he goes.

"Illiya! Where d'you want this?" the young man calls out to one of the kitchen-maids, a girl of about his age, who dries her hands on her apron briefly and gestures towards an unused bench.

"Over there, Garad. Careful not to drop them now, or I think Baran'll have your head."

"Papa? He's never yelled before. I don't see why he'd start now," Garad replies with a grin directed to the girl, before he begins to place his load down, arranging it carefully.

 

[Vixandra]

Vixan

A woman, clad in leather armor and a floor length cloak sat near the back of the room. She looked up from the knife she was sharpening at the man making his way to the bar, groping blindly. Her head tilted in curiosity she wondered briefly what had happened to him.
Shrugging she turned her attention back to her knife, one of many blades she carried.

 

[Indy Bill]

Oster

Oster approached The Friendly Bed, riding high atop his cart. His oxen suddenly stopping, snorting-his horse reared. Oster smelled them before he saw them. "Orcs !" He snarled.
He jumped from his cart drawing his sword and advanced on the inn.

 

[Darklord]

Jondin

He sat at the bar, fingering his empty mug of ale. He barely even twitched when the person in the hooded cloak entered the "Friendly Bed" and sat in the back ordering some soup. The man just didn't seem to care anymore. The only thing that counted to him, it seemed, was seeing his mug get refilled.

"BARAN!" he bellowed out to the large, bluff looking man behind the bar. "I need another fricking ale..... Gods how I hate these days and nights I spend here drinking my health away....." he lamented sadly as Baran took his mug and refilled it from the less expensive and less quality brew, it wasn't like Jondin was going to know the difference from the good stuff he started on every night.

As Jondin sat there he saw the man bearing the armor, leaning on a stick, again coming down from upstairs and making his way along the bar. Suddenly feeling somewhat less bad about his own situation he leaned over and taking the man by the arm right after the figure had sat and ordered a beer, he said...

"Friend, how would you feel if I bought you that drink, and I myself one, and then a couple of pints for both of us. Perhaps, to lament the loss of things near and dear to us both, eh?" and before the poor man could respond he bellowed "Baran! A pint of yer finest fer me poor bucko here, and not what yer were going to give him."

Then turning back to the man he simply said "Me names Jondin, and yers friend?"

 

[PmTick]

As Leoic descended down the hill and towards the town, he heard quite a bit of commotion coming from the otherside of the village. Determined to investigate, he brandished his crossbow and quietly made his way toward the comotion.

 

[Vixandra]

Vixan

From the back of the room Vix could see both the stairwell and the main entrance. She heard a shout outside and her guard, never that far down, shot up to high alert. Quicksilver eyes searched for the source of the disturbance, whetstone being slipped into a pouch on her belt.

 

[Lateral]

Garad

Exiting the kitchen and making his way back into the common room, Garad lingers a moment - lazily casting his gaze about the room's various occupants - before he moves over to the bar, leaning up against it and grinning up at Baran, who was busily pouring out and dispensing mugs of ale.

"So, pa, what else d'you need done? Shall I go see if the horses are fed yet?" the youngster asks the innkeeper.

"Not yet, lad," comes Baran's gruff response as he hands two mugs of ale to the nearest barmaid, who makes her way towards Jondin and Xeil, "Stay here. Go upstairs and see to it that everyone's rooms are set for the night. And don't disturb any of those who've already retreated."

Muttering something under his breath, Garad turns about and makes for the stairs leading upward.

 

[The GrandMage]

Tobias, Third Level Wizard's Apprentice

He sighed, and closed the book, sliding it into the pack on the floor next to his chair. He closed the pack, and looked around the room again. His eyes rested on a woman in the back, who had a good view of his table, right next to the entrance.

He'd noticed her sharpening a knife earlier. From the way she wore her armor, and handled the knife, he had no doubt she was a warrior. And from what he could tell of the room, she seemed able-bodied.

He refixed his gaze. He wondered what she was doing here, and when she was headed. Possibly he could talk her into letting him along, as he was good at healing. He had to be, the way he always screwed up spells. His hand curled around the quarterstaff, and he moved it from the wall, watching her.

He stopped, she seemed to be looking for something? Maybe she heard a friend of hers outside? He ran his fingers across his quarterstaff. That might make things more difficult. A lone warrior was one person to convince, and they usually needed healers. Two or more tended to have different views, even if they worked seemlessly together, and unless they were headed someplace dangerous, they usually didn't need healers.

But still, she looked about his age, and might understand that he wasn't too good against monsters by himself, although he was quite good with his quarterstaff. Still, he wasn't good enough to think about being a warrior himself.

He sat, and he watched, and he thought...

 

[Xenocide_613]

Balfor Hammerheaver

The dwarf was closing up shop on a typical workday. He watched as the last embers of the fire died out, then turned and pulled off his smithy's apron and tossed over his large anvil.

He got his what pleasure he could in life from making armor and weapons, and this night he’d completed a fine mithral long sword. He pulled the blade from the cooling barrel and laid it lovingly on the table that he kept the rest of his wares on.

“Bah!” He complained to no one in particular. Another day of making horseshoes. That’s all anyone ever wanted was horseshoes! He spent all his daytime hours hammering out shoes, and rarely ever got to make a blade.

At least the day wasn’t a complete waste, he thought as he gazed back at the sword.

He entered his house, which was attached to the back of Hammerheaver’s Blacksmith and Armory and went to the wash basin and scrubbed the soot off his cheeks.

He cleaned up as best he could, then started for the door to go get a drink at The Friendly Bed. He got halfway to the door, then halted dead in his tracks and sniffed at the air.

His lip curled in disgust as he recognized the familiar scent. “Orcs…” the dwarf growled and ran back into his shop and hastily pulled on his father’s mithral chain mail and started for the door of the shop. He opened the door and started to step out, then realized he’d forgotten his axe.

“Durn orcs!” he growled again as he grabbed the battleaxe off of the wall where he’d mounted the family heirloom and set off back out the door only to see two orcs riding boars charging toward the inn.

Balfor started out toward the inn as fast as he could manage, yelling the whole way.

“BARAN!!! YE’VE GOT ORCS COMIN’ FER YE!!! BARAN!!!ORCS, YE HEAR!!!”

 

[Vixandra]

Vixan

She felt eyes on her and turned to look at the young man studying her. He looked like a magic user. She smiled back at him- it never hurt to be nice to those who used magic- her Mother had been a hedgewitch of some power and though her daughter carried none of her skills, she carried a heafty dose of respect for anyone who could use magic.
She sniffed the air and smelled something that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up on end. A low growl built in her throat as she made her way across the room to stand next to the magic user, throwing her waist length braid over her shoulder, cloack falling to the magic user's table. She shot him a glance before returning her gaze to the door, body loose and seemingly at ease, ready for the fight sure to come. A pair of two-foot long shortswords appeared, one in each hand. A small sheild afixed to her left forearm snapped into place with a whisper-quiet click. She heard the yell of the dwarf, sighing as she spoke to the man next to her.
"You any good with magic? I do believe any skills you have are going to be needed soon."

 

[Indy Bill]

Oster

Running now, in a full battle charge, the portly warrior slashed down on a startled orc peering in a window of the "Friendly Bed".
The orc thrust his club deflecting Oster's sword and quickly jumped clear of the charging man. Oster planting his right foot, spun to face the orc. The momentum of his charge more than he can brake, Oster falls backward into the window, crashing through the glass and sliding across the common room floor.
Like a turtle on his back the portly warrior struggled to rise.
"Aaaa...you lad! could you give an old man a hand?"

 

[Lateral]

Garad

...And just like that, chaos erupted in the common-room of 'The Friendly Bed'.

As each of the inhabitants now reacted - most in thoroughly unorganised and different fashion - Garad paused, in shock, and looked down at the man who had just crashed through the window and arrived at the boy's feet. Staring down at the man in silence a moment, Garad, in a daze, reached out a helping hand, aiding the man in pulling himself to his feet.

"Garad! Over here!" Came the booming voice of Baran from across the room, and now the boy looked across to see that the innkeeper had produced a longsword from somewhere. "Garad! Here!" he repeated.

Turning back to Oster quickly, Garad uttered a quick apology, and then dashed across towards Baran, dodging the inn's patrons as he did.

 

[The GrandMage]

Tobias, Third Level Wizard's Apprentice

He was about to answer when a man came through the window. He was up in a flash, quarterstaff in hand, kicking the chair back so it wouldn't get in the way. He looked at the warrior, and gave a small smile.

"Not good enough to take care of it myself, but good enough to be of help."

 

[DarkTalon]

Luickis

luckis sat at his table just watching the comtion. He kept his eyes fixed on Baran And his reactions. ~I bet thats th Boy i was sent to find ~ He thought as Baran Called for Garad
~ So far this is simple ~ Luckis stood up as he thought this, his weapons hanging on his back He just watched For now

 

[Darklord]

Drinking the blues away...

Even as people started getting up and acting antsy, he continued to drink his ale. "After all, what would disturb a man while he's in his cups?" he thought somewhat muzzily. Titling back he finished his mug just as the stranger made a somewhat noisy entrance through the window and at Garad's feet.

Even as that was happening, and even though dulled by disuse and abuse of alcohol, his feet hit the floor, his hand grabbed his staff (a piece of ash wood nearly seven feet in length and capped at both ends by furles of iron. He had always claimed he needed a good walking stick). As this happened his other hand snatched up his bar stool to use as a second weapon. Staggering around he saw Garad help the man to his feet and for moment stupidly stood there.

Then Baran snapped him out of his somewhat hazy stupor when he yelled "Garad!" a second time. Shaking his head Jondin added his voice to his friends. "Dammit Lad! We're in for a fight it seems so move yer ass and get over here!" and even as he was finishing that sentence he had stepped to the side to clear room for his bar stool and staff to be used correctly, turning his head he yelled to Baran "Just like old times right friend?!?"

 

[Xenocide_613]

Balfor Hammerheaver

The dwarf barreled towards the inn, not noticing the orc witch. A slight grin found his lips as he watched the human go through the window. He brought up his axe as he charged the other orc. He lowered his head and slammed into the side of the boar, thoroughly shaking himself up a bit as he rebounded and landed hard.

"Me favorite past time, Orc squishin!" He growled as he kicked away the tusks of the boar. Balfor managed to get to his feet and warded the beast away with three quick chops at the beast's snout.

 

[Vixandra]

Vixan

Vix looked down at the magic user and sighed. It was as good a task as any, keeping him alive for a while. Pay could be talked over later, if she even needed it.
"I'm Vixan of the Dancing Foxes and I'll be you're protector tonight." She laughed as one of the orcs walked into the Inn. "Pass this one by, Orc. Trust me, you don't want any of this."
Of course the orc, being orcen, don't take orders from strangers to well and figured while the scrawny one wouldn't be too good the woman would be rather nice in a pot of stew.
Vix smiled sweetly and tossed a spare knife at the orc, striking it between the the gap of his halbrok and trousers. Not exactly a hard shot. It howled in anger and charged. Vix just stepped out of the way and let the orc trip over a table. She easily brushed the magelette out of the way and turned back to her quary.

 

[cats]

Xeil

IC: I was drinking my ale calmly. Then the person next to me, offered to buy me another drink, his breath was so full of cheap liquor and his hygene so poor it smelled as bad as an orc. This man was either kind though or more likely drunk beyond comprehension.

I put my hand on my staff, a nice strait pull of iron wood, not the lightest but sure enough not to break no matter where I take it. The staff always reminded me of my claymore, the two were the same length about six feet. My claymore was an odd one though, most swords put a thinker build at the botom of the blade to acheive balance mine instead had a foot long handle wich balanced it out.

I began to hear the grunting of pigs out side. Seems live stock must of goten out. No concern of mine how ever. 'My name is Jodin and what is yours?' 30 and blind as a bat with no time to learn another trade. Me a dragoon that has killed about a dozen difrent dragons. Still no one cares that I had such great skill no, not in the least. "I'd say my name is forgoten."

I hearn the cracking of glass and a heavy object landed on the floor close by. I'm only done with my first drink, shouldn't waste the otehr one. 'Garad get over here!' 'Can some one help me up?' 'Thank you.' 'Damn it boy get over here!' 'Theirs a fight on our hands go over to Barad' All the talk painted a picture of what was happening. Funny the person useing the sharpening stone seems to be gone. I hear a snapign at the front of the bar, 'What ever magics you have I think will soon be needed.' Prehaps thats the person over by the mage. I took a breath of air and smelled that same foul stench. Looks like his breath wasn't as bad as I thought, must be some type of goblin or orc. Such a weak foe, I guess it's a fitting end to me, forgoten and defeated by the weakest of foes. Arogance has cought up to me. I raised my second drink "Here's to the end of a bad day." I began to drink t my own toast even if I was the only one to do so.