Grey
Established
Warrior
Roleplay posts: 32
Age: Unknown
Physical Description: A man of average height and size, essentially insignificant compared to those around him. He has grey hair, a trait which has lent him his nickname, and dark brown eyes.
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Clothes and Equipment: Grey travels light. He typically wears fur garments, trousers, boots, and a cloak. He primarily wields a hunting bow, and as such carries a quiver of arrows. In melee he resorts to using a hatchet and dagger. Finally, he carries a precious red gemstone.
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Registered: Jul 8, 2018 5:28:59 GMT -8
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Post by Grey on Oct 25, 2019 14:05:17 GMT -8
"The Darkwald. An eldritch swampland of ill repute strategically wedged between a host of warmongering nation-states. Commonfolk believe the thick forests and pox-ridden bogs are home to evil spirits, hags, and ancient horrors. Nay, say I! The stillwaters bubble with toxin and the putrid disease it carries addles the minds of the lesser folk. A mere antidote is all one needs to survive the so-called ‘horrors’ that call the Darkwald their home." -Master Zoroaster Alabastar, arcanologist who disappeared in the Darkwald
There are two main roads running through the Darkwald. One runs north to south, the other cuts through east to west. The Vorstuga, with its estuary in the northwest, carves it way to the southeast. A number of smaller rivers, streams, and creeks branch off and flow into the many lakes, ponds, and bogs scattered throughout the dark forest. In the center, where the roads and the river meet, is the Hallows Inn. The red-brick tavern is two-stories high with a black shingled roof and a stone base. The first floor is where patrons will find the bar, as well as a hearth and places to sit and relax. A large, spacious room on the westwing is yet unused. The cellars beneath offer storage, and the second floor provides room-and-board for those with coin. A stable rests on the eastwing. The innkeep’s name is Sloan, and he is a short but stout, balding man. The Hallows Inn was financed by a company known as Blackwater, who owns a number of warehouses on the bank of the Vorstuga. The tavern’s most common patrons include merchants who sail up and down the river, as well as the dockworkers who live in their homes nearby.
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Grey
Established
Warrior
Roleplay posts: 32
Age: Unknown
Physical Description: A man of average height and size, essentially insignificant compared to those around him. He has grey hair, a trait which has lent him his nickname, and dark brown eyes.
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Clothes and Equipment: Grey travels light. He typically wears fur garments, trousers, boots, and a cloak. He primarily wields a hunting bow, and as such carries a quiver of arrows. In melee he resorts to using a hatchet and dagger. Finally, he carries a precious red gemstone.
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Registered: Jul 8, 2018 5:28:59 GMT -8
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Post by Grey on Oct 25, 2019 14:52:01 GMT -8
When the League had dispatched Grey to Voruta on an assignment they offered little in the way of details; but such were their ways: vague and mysterious. After accomplishing his task he made his way the Darkwald, where the League was carving out a new settlement in the midst of a forbidden forest. Blackwater, still in its infancy, was like a beacon of hope in the gods-forsaken marshland of the dark forest. Now traders and travelers alike could find respite at the Hallows Inn, whereas their predecessors had risked death camping on the side of the main roads.
"Ho, there," Grey pulled the reins of Maggie, his mare, then dismounted and led her further into the stables. There were hitching posts, troughs of water, and hay inside - reasonable accommodations for a traveler's mount to rest without being in the weather. Grey fed Maggie an apple, pet her cheek, and then made his way to the Hallows Inn.
The inn was on the north side of the Vorstuga, its entrance facing south. There were a number of houses belonging to the dockworkers, who loaded and unloaded cargo for the League on the banks of the river. A few small ships were moored at the docks and goods were transported back and forth from the vessels and warehouses. The League's foreman was certainly in that area, but Grey would visit his old friend Sloan first, who ran the tavern.
The wooden door creaked open and the weary traveler entered. The hearth was burning brightly and pork was being roasted over the coals. Groups of carousing merchants and their guards were enjoying themselves at the tables, their bellies full of meat and alcohol.
"Oi, over here lad!" Sloan waved at Grey from behind the bar. "Worry not, got vodka on hand if that's what you want."
"No thanks," Grey responded. "Still need to see the foreman."
Sloan nodded, "right. Everything turn out okay?"
"It got messy, but the job's done. Won't be seeing them anymore. What about you? How's life in the bog?"
Sloan laughed. "It's not too bad. With the League at my back I want for nothing. Folk might get a little rowdy after one too many drinks, but I can handle them well enough. Speaking of which... League's looking for a sheriff to keep order, but I'm not sure who they're considering."
Grey shrugged, "something stable? Might be worth looking into."
"Sheriff Grey," Sloan chuckled, "I've a job for you already."
"Oh?"
The innkeep shrugged. "Ah, why the hell not? See those fellows over there?" he pointed to a group of well-dressed foreigners and Grey nodded. "They arrived yesterday evening. They trade in exquisite luxury furniture. So I paid them for a couch. They left, then returned empty-handed, and been drinking and carousing about all day. Every time I ask about it they refuse to speak. Suppose to be a nice couch too."
"I could make them talk," Grey offered.
"Aye, don't doubt you could. Just one problem. See those men with the curved swords?" Another band of foreigners, these ones armed, sat nearby. "Bodyguards. Can't do much with them nearby. Maybe ask around and see if you can find some muscle."
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Barthlomew Eads
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 111
Age: 32
Registered: Nov 8, 2019 11:40:55 GMT -8
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Post by Barthlomew Eads on Nov 8, 2019 12:12:57 GMT -8
Bart found himself put outside of his comfort zone with this trip. It was for the good of his people, it was the only reason that he was here to start. The little murky town settled in a set of woods that linked up towards his own had turned hostile the instant that he'd stepped in it. Once elven trees were twisted into something darker, uglier, and these whispered of secrets instead of the growth of the world around him. The shade settled into his bones digging through the skin making them ache. The instant he stepped into the opening of the town they released their grip and allowed him breathing room.
It was with this relief that he ventured further even if the crowd was shadier than he expected. Carrying himself with head held high his cloak was drawn over dark leather armor. The long line of his bow which was settled over his left shoulder, and over his cloak, would be the only thing that looked to be of truth worth upon his person. His quiver drawn over the cloak fed through an opening. There were also holes allowed for where he'd had then sewn to put his arms through the cloak providing warmth to his core three dark buckles going down the center of his chest.
Dismounting from his steed the horse was thick, steady, and more suitable for farm-work than what he required of it now. Still the beast had served him well and he would look for a stable finding it in the form of the local tavern which held space enough for him. Checking with the stable boy he would pay the few coins necessary for feed and water and take care of the tack himself. He would leave the saddle on the edge of the stable door with a saddlebag placed over the edge of it as well. The horse would bite anyone who came near.
Generally he would have shrugged off many of his weapons too, he did hang his bow on the back wall and his quiver beneath it, but left the short blade upon his hip and a dagger that was settled in his boot. Leaving the stable for the warmth of a fire within the tavern itself. The door opening the wind that surrounded him raised his cloak showing the molded leather over his form, the pads on his thighs, and his thick boots in the same worn brown. He wore bracers on his forearms that were tied in the middle running along the length of them. By all appearances, he was an archer if one judged by the way he was muscled with a medium build but tense shoulders.
He approached Sloan a seat down from Grey missing the last part of their conversation but waving down the bartender his voice weary, "Do you have a special today, sir?"
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Grey
Established
Warrior
Roleplay posts: 32
Age: Unknown
Physical Description: A man of average height and size, essentially insignificant compared to those around him. He has grey hair, a trait which has lent him his nickname, and dark brown eyes.
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Clothes and Equipment: Grey travels light. He typically wears fur garments, trousers, boots, and a cloak. He primarily wields a hunting bow, and as such carries a quiver of arrows. In melee he resorts to using a hatchet and dagger. Finally, he carries a precious red gemstone.
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Registered: Jul 8, 2018 5:28:59 GMT -8
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Post by Grey on Nov 19, 2019 4:49:10 GMT -8
Sloan's attention turned to Barthlomew the moment he entered the door. Grey himself slowly turned his head and spied the newcomer in his periphery. "There's pork roastin' o'er the fire," came Sloan's reply. "Care for a bite?" Provided Barthlomew said yes, Sloan directed one of the wenches to fetch the man a plate, and was prepared to poor him a drink should he request one.
Grey had not been in town long, so he wasn't sure if Barthlomew was new or not. Sloan, on the other hand, could at least recall faces, and this was the first he had the man. "New in town, stranger?" he would ask inquisitively. Grey remained silent, but was very much invested in the two speakers.
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Barthlomew Eads
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 111
Age: 32
Registered: Nov 8, 2019 11:40:55 GMT -8
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Post by Barthlomew Eads on Nov 22, 2019 13:48:23 GMT -8
Bart would agree to the pork readily, it was warm. He’d been eating cold jerky and stale bread along the road so a warm meal and a soft bed sounded like a respite that would not go amiss and considering he had a few coins left from his venture that would allow that. It would be a month or more until he reached home and it would be along less hospitable roads with very few places to stop along the way.
“Passing through,” he would answer Sloan. He was not unaware that Grey was watching him, indeed he cast a baleful glance down the bar, but for the moment he wanted nothing more than to arrange a room and eat his meal in peace, “Is there a place I can get rations for the road?”
Most inns would have some stock placed back, but he needed a true general store, he’d add a moment later as his plate was brought, “I’d like a room for the night as well please, and if you have any clean water a glass, and if not whatever mead you have will do.”
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Grey
Established
Warrior
Roleplay posts: 32
Age: Unknown
Physical Description: A man of average height and size, essentially insignificant compared to those around him. He has grey hair, a trait which has lent him his nickname, and dark brown eyes.
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Clothes and Equipment: Grey travels light. He typically wears fur garments, trousers, boots, and a cloak. He primarily wields a hunting bow, and as such carries a quiver of arrows. In melee he resorts to using a hatchet and dagger. Finally, he carries a precious red gemstone.
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Registered: Jul 8, 2018 5:28:59 GMT -8
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Post by Grey on Dec 5, 2019 7:31:31 GMT -8
"Aye," Sloan answered. Sloan made trips to the town well and boiled the water over a fire to ensure it was safe to drink. "I have empty rooms upstairs, and can fetch some water if you'd like. Far as rations go... reckon I could sell you some dried meat come morn. Course the foreman over by the docks might be able to sell you rations that he usually distributes to the shippers."
Suddenly Grey spoke up. "But it'll cost you," he remarked. "But I might have a job for you if you're interested." He nodded towards the foreign bodyguards. "Might be a little violent."
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Barthlomew Eads
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 111
Age: 32
Registered: Nov 8, 2019 11:40:55 GMT -8
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Post by Barthlomew Eads on Jan 7, 2020 18:14:34 GMT -8
He went from speaking to the bartender and waiting on answers to being spoken to by the man that had been watching him from down the bar way. Grey was assuming he was capable, not that he knew he didn’t look it. He had callouses on his hands from holding farm equipment and a blade, he carried himself without fear as he’d been taught, and he was rather unconcerned about being watched so openly. Until now.
Looking down to him he would say, “Nothing is free other than what comes from the mouths of strangers,” it was an old saying, and he did not finish it, because it had something about lying in there too that he did not feel was necessary to relay. Still he was curious if nothing else when he followed his nod his line of sight finding the bodyguards. Shrugging once at the upheaval of his plans he would add blatantly interested, “I’ve never said no to making sure I have enough to get home upon.”
With his interest settled he would tell Sloan, “I would appreciate both, thank you.”
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Grey
Established
Warrior
Roleplay posts: 32
Age: Unknown
Physical Description: A man of average height and size, essentially insignificant compared to those around him. He has grey hair, a trait which has lent him his nickname, and dark brown eyes.
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Clothes and Equipment: Grey travels light. He typically wears fur garments, trousers, boots, and a cloak. He primarily wields a hunting bow, and as such carries a quiver of arrows. In melee he resorts to using a hatchet and dagger. Finally, he carries a precious red gemstone.
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Registered: Jul 8, 2018 5:28:59 GMT -8
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Post by Grey on Jan 18, 2020 8:23:39 GMT -8
Grey nodded his head towards the bodyguards wielding their curved swords. Then he turned his attention to the foreigners. Were Barthlomew to follow his gaze he could spy the same group. But Grey was quick to turn back to Sloan, lest the foreigners catch on to the attention they were bringing.
"We need to... convince the traders to follow through on a deal they have with our friend Sloan. Problem is, the bodyguards give them... courage. I'd be willing to hear any suggestions."
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Barthlomew Eads
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 111
Age: 32
Registered: Nov 8, 2019 11:40:55 GMT -8
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Post by Barthlomew Eads on Jan 22, 2020 12:36:23 GMT -8
"Ply the guards with enough beer to make their legs loose beneath them and then handle the matter," it was a simple suggestion, one that involved him and Grey being rather more sober than not. A drunk man would not be hard to put on his back and with the foreigners a bit loaded as well it would make it easier to ply an agreement out of them. It was a simple plan, and one that might just work due to its simplicity.
Either way Bart was still waiting on his meal which was delivered. Taking a few bites he would remark to Sloan, "My compliments to the chef, I expected a warm meal but not a good one, this is most pleasant."
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Grey
Established
Warrior
Roleplay posts: 32
Age: Unknown
Physical Description: A man of average height and size, essentially insignificant compared to those around him. He has grey hair, a trait which has lent him his nickname, and dark brown eyes.
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Clothes and Equipment: Grey travels light. He typically wears fur garments, trousers, boots, and a cloak. He primarily wields a hunting bow, and as such carries a quiver of arrows. In melee he resorts to using a hatchet and dagger. Finally, he carries a precious red gemstone.
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Registered: Jul 8, 2018 5:28:59 GMT -8
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Post by Grey on Feb 11, 2020 9:58:13 GMT -8
Sloan chuckled, "much appreciated! Gonna be honest: we can only serve what is shipped in. Not enough hunters to go around to supply us with fresh meat - yet![/u] Sederis does what she can but... a house is only as strong as the materials you use to build it."
Grey thought on what Bart said and then deduced a plan. "Sloan, friend. Let me by a round for the boys over there," he nodded backwards at the guards.
Sloan had overheard Bart's suggestion and knew that Grey intended to get the bodyguards drunk. While he agreed with the plan he was afeared they might throw down in the inn itself. "Alright, lad," he said, "but when you take care of business... do it off the premises, aye?"
Grey grinned, "of course, old friend." Sloan sighed and went through with the plan. While Grey was counting the necessary coins the barkeep shuffled over to where the guards sat and served them a round of the strongest beverage he had.
"On the house, lads!" he announced, plopping the mugs on the wooden table. "For a new couch!" he finished.
The men thanked him and began to drink, guzzling down the alcoholic liquid. Grey observed them with casual glances and whenever they seemed to be intoxicated enough he cocked his head towards Bart and grinned. "On your signal?"
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