Paradigm Concepts

[GTseng3]

(This is virtually identical to my post on LA_IC_Chat, except that along the road Niloc's nationality was switched to Cafelan. So there.)

Forty years. Forty years is a long time for a tavern. Passed down from father to son, then to daughter, the border tavern had become disused after the end of the Coryani Civil War. The constant feuding of the new city-states of Almeric had killed what little business peacetime had brought in. But with the untimely death of her father, the new owner made a stand. The border tavern had once served the greatest heroes Onara had ever known. It would do so again. Set in the country surrounding the Free City States of Almeric, too far from the sway of those petty nations to fall under their laws, neutral territory for heroes from every nation, the border tavern once again opened its doors.

And its owner almost immediately regretted the decision. Her first customer did not seem much like a hero. Did her grandfather not tell her tales of mighty heroes discussing the politics of nations? Did he not speak of quests perilous, and men who dared to stand against the Valinor themselves? Her first customer certainly did not live up to that description. He rode up in a cart. A cart! Pulled by a mule no less! No great Altherian steed, no great warrior in flashing armor. The stranger’s grey eyes marked him as a Val, but he wore commoner’s garb and clucked to his mule with a commoner’s familiarity. Perhaps he was not a hero at all, she reasoned. Perhaps he was simply a peasant, some sun-addled peasant val’Tensen who had come to the border tavern. She smiled to herself. Yes, surely that is it. True, he did not look like a val’Tensen, but then he did not really look like anything. He had one of those complexions that was just barely exotic and seemed impossible to place.

The Val hitched up his mule, and walked into the tavern. Well, he strode in, really. It was not a noble’s walk, but merely the sort of lazy stride a man wandering alone in the country without a care might have. His toothy grin beamed as he looked around.

“Ah! Niloc’s nose has detected the sweet caress of libation, and upon following his nose, Niloc discovers his trust in that austere organ is once again not misplaced! Niloc should trust his organs more!” Well at least that was one mystery solved. She knew a Cafelan accent when she heard one. But few Cafelan peasants would make the journey into Almeric, so more mysteries were created.

“Yes, we have drink here,” she said, a little wary of the Val’s enthusiasm. “Is Niloc your friend? Will he be arriving shortly?”

“Niloc is Niloc,” he replied unhelpfully. “And though Niloc is not tall, one cannot call him short.”

A terrible suspicion began forming in her mind. “Is… is Niloc here in the room with us right now?” she said, as if speaking to a child.

The Val seemed unperturbed by this. “Niloc thinks perhaps you do not understand. Niloc is Niloc.” He gestured to himself, and she finally understood. Well, it was good to know he was not completely mad. Perhaps a little addled, but not completely mad. “Niloc wishes to quench his thirst, and unless Niloc’s ears have cruelly betrayed him in a way his nose had no heart to, there is a jangling of coin in Niloc’s pockets. This means Niloc can afford drink! Happy day for Niloc!”

Niloc unslung his backpack and settled into a chair. The beleaguered woman forced a smile, and sighed inwardly. Now she remembered why her father had been so eager to close the place down.

Niloc
Emerald Society Field Agent

[PaldarisQueen]

Fortunately, she did not have long to wait for another patron to arrive. The back of this patron appeared first in the doorway, accompanied by a voice, a little harsh, but female, and with a heavy Milandesian accent.

"If I wished to share your room, lout, you would know it, you will keep your hands to yourself!" In response to some unheard comment, she added, "I do not care who you are, I only care who I am. You paid for me to guard you here, and that is all, eh?"

She turned, silhouetted by the sun and rested her staff - no, an unlimbered bow - by the door. She brushed the dust from her leather jerkin and nodded to the tavern owner as her eyes adjusted. "Simple ale, please, it is dry and I wish to wash the taste of dealing with that one from my mouth."

She, too, has both the gray eyes of a val and the clothing of the lower classes. Her hair is that color between brown and blond, while her skin has a translucent pallor to it that seems unusual in a Milandesian peasant.
_________________
Carrie Amodio
Formerly Mirka Skullcrusher, Yhing Hir Stormlord
Petronya of Eastmarch, archer extraordinaire
Perpetual NPC

[Hat]

As the woman poured the ale for her most recent guest, the door once again opened, a dark figure silhouetted against the sun. As the man slipped in though the darkness remained with him - cloak, armor, boots all a deep black. At a glance tall, dark and handsome, though as soon as the impression forms she discards it. Faded and worn replace it. While moving with easy grace his carriage has a flatness to it. Short black curly hair just slightly... off, expression guarded, but the eyes are truly where the luster fades. Perhaps at one point they were enchanting, roguish, but now they appear haunted. The gray eyes don't invite investigation.

As he makes his way to a table in the corner he scans the room, cataloging people and objects. Reaching his target he settles his cloak on the chair and pack on the ground. The question of origin - Coryan or Almeric - is quickly settled by the prominent tattoo on his forearm. Though dressed in Lorica Squamata the tattoo proclaims him a member of the Legion of the Watchful Hunter. His eyes dip from the room to rummage through his pack and in a moment he reverently withdraws an exquisitely crafted lyre. Settling into his seat, his fingers caress the strings producing a lovely rolling scale. In that moment his face relaxes, a roguish smile slips out and the luster returns and then once again fades.

Realizing that there are others in the room his fingers cease their movements. The owner steps over, "Something to drink?" she inquires.

"Wine. Red if you've got it," he answers in a quiet voice. She nods and heads back to collect bottle and glass. Glancing at the three unlikely patrons she wonders again what she got herself into.

[Nierite]

Some time later, another form arrives.

Another cloaked form, this one is quite opposite from that of the previous patron who entered the Inn. Instead of a dark, though faded cloak and gear, this man's hooded travellers cloak is an intense Red colour, with intricate orange swirls near the base in some strange pattern. Throwing back his hood, spattered with the drizzel common in these lands so near the domain of the scions Storm Lord, a tall, flaming haired individual with Gray Val eyes looks upon the crowd. From afar, one can see the intense feel of his eyes upon them, as though he is trying to look into their very souls.

If there were any questions as to the nature of the patterns on his cloak before, they are easily cast aside when he pulls it over his shoulders, revealing the exquisitely crafted armour below. Though one can notice the style as Coryani Lorica Segmentata, the armour is so stylized with flame patters and two imbedded Fire Opals that it is clear this armour is not that of a common Legionnaire. The Holy Symbol of the Mother Church proudly displayed around his neck, as well as the large Sword strapped to his back, suggest that this man is of the Clergy of Nier.

Walking past the other patrons of the Bar, the man approaches the Propriator at the bar. "Excuse me Madam," says a rich tenor voice with an accent that seems Coryani, but with a slight hint of something disturbingly familiar, "I have been travelling for some time and wish to know if there are any rooms available?"

"Indeed, this is an Inn after all." She replys, slightly tartly at the man before her, while she looks dubiously at the armour and Holy Symbol. Looking closer at him, she notices that he is very young, probably no more than 20 years. "This is the only place you're going to find for some distance, so I'm sure we can find room for you.''

"Excellent! Than if possible I would wish to purchase lodging, as well as some repast. I am unsure how long I shall be here, but it will be at least for the night." The young, though quite well spoken, Nierite responds.

Taken slightly aback by the politness of his voice, she offers him a key upon his payment for his room. "I shall return when I have stowed my possessions, Madam. Upon which I would like to sample some of that lovely smelling stew I detect. May the Blessings of the Gods Be With You."
_________________
Cody Bergman

aka = Haakon Marcus val'Virdan, Priest of Nier (Divine 1.
aka = Dyabe val'Abebi, Templar of Althares (Divine 1.4)
aka = Jorma Ostoman, Battlemage of the Coryani Empire (Arcane 1.2)

[PaldarisQueen]

Some people might call the Coryani polite, but that's not Petronya's viewpoint and she mutters into her ale as he leaves the room. "What a pompous ...!"

She looks dubiously at the former legionnaire - current ones are seldom found in numbers less than a thousand.

She raises an eyebrow at the woman behind the bar. "Nothing like a border tavern to get all types, hmm?"
_________________
Carrie Amodio
Formerly Mirka Skullcrusher, Yhing Hir Stormlord
Petronya of Eastmarch, archer extraordinaire
Perpetual NPC

[Hat]

The woman nods and smiles, deciding to make the best of what the day has brought her. "As long as they keep the peace and have the coin to spend they're welcome here."

The former legionnaire sets down his unfinished wine glass and starts quietly plucking the notes of a song. The woman pauses having to listen carefully to hear the music. The first notes sound tantalizingly familiar, Ah! the Courtship of Larissa, an old and popular epic. A bit odd without the tale as well. Not nationalistic or likely to raise the ire of the other guests. Well with this bunch, nothing's certain. They can always ask him to play it louder or stop.

Happy for something to relieve the quiet, she scans the room to see if any of the patrons needs anything. The last of the guests to check is the woman with her at the bar. "So, where are you from? Any news from the road?"

[GTseng3]

Niloc raises his hand rather impishly, and declares, "Niloc has news. The current situation in Almeric has caused them to neglect the roadways between their small, embattled domains. Niloc shudders to think what might have occurred had Niloc's mule not been, in general, wiser than Niloc."

He looks around, his head making elegant, almost swan-like turns to take in the three. He mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, "A Milandesian and two legionnaires walk into a bar... Niloc ducks..." before he fixes his eyes on the Milandesian.

"Niloc is correct in thinking that you come from the north? Have you news of the Crusade?"
_________________
Jeffrey Witthauer
The Evil Writer
http://evilrpgwriter.livejournal.com

Play Blood Aria at Dragon*Con 2011!

[StatMonkey]

The stranger approached the Inn with simple indifference noticing a small mule and wagon hitched up in front.

Swinging its head over, the mule took a moment to assess the new visitor, quickly attempting to back away.

Predator………Fear……Trapped…

Not wishing to startle the mule any more then he already had, the stranger raised a calming hand and reaching the other into his pack, producing a small red apple.

The mule relaxed. The fear was gone, the threat was gone, and the scent of the predator was gone.

Apple... Shiny Apple… Food… Good… Safe...

The mule ate.

“So little one” (The stranger spoke more to himself then the mule, not wishing to interrupt his new friend's meal.) “Who in their right mind would re-open this Inn? They don't see a lot of traffic down these roads these days”

With a shrug, the stranger patted the mule and started his way up the stairs... that smell… mutton?

The stranger's stomach grumbled

Hunger... food... safe…

He listened for a moment. There were customers in the Inn, he also heard music. Perhaps the staff would be too busy to talk to him, wouldn't ask him any questions.

For a moment, the only sound he noticed was the creaking squamata accompanied with the sound of his twin Gladii and adorned flintlock pistol slapping against his armor. He raised his head to notice the people in the room. Their conversation was lost to him, as was it’s context. Quickly assessing the strangers in the room, he noticed several Val, a fellow Legionnaire, and a few others.

A feeling of awkward silence filling the room... as the stranger's clear eyes scanned the rafters, settling back down upon a young human woman.

They stared at each other for mere moments, but to the stranger felt like an eternity...

“I’m in need of a room and meal.”

The young lady glancing at the two Val then back at the stranger.

“Private room or common room?”

Quickly glancing at the two Val the stranger replied, a little too forcefully “Private”

“That will be 4 gold, including your meal and in the mor...”

“Agreed” the stranger replied, glad to be done with her. He moved across the room with a wolf’s grace toward a seat across from the door, glad to have a windowless wall at his back. He waited for his meal to be brought to him, bracing himself for the inevitable questions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What you see is a small Val, standing no taller than 5’ 2”. His dark hair is barely held back with a leather strap. Many would consider him handsome if not for the three scars running across his face, from his left temple to the right side of his chin.

Clearly Coryani, he is dressed in plain common garb underneath a suit of Lorica Squamata with a pair of matching Gladius strapped in an X across his back, their pummels pointed down secured by leather snaps, and at his side, an adorned Altherian flintlock.
_________________
Pedro C Barrenechea
Paradigm Concepts, Miami
And all you need to know about Arcanis
New player: "You know, I'm not really sure we *should* win. I'm not sure we made the right choice."
Veteran player: "Welcome to Arcanis!"

[Nierite]

Rejoining the crowd, now without his cloak and gear, but still in armour and brandishing his sword, the Flame-haired Nierite returns to the Common room. Taking note of the newcomer in the room, he moves towards the bar, requesting some food which the proprietress then moves to the kitchen to retrieve.

While waiting, the Nierite noticies the odd looks coming from certain other patrons, including a certain hostile glare from the somewhat Milandesian-looking woman. To this, the Nierite could only shake his head. It was something which he was told to expect in this region, and he decided it was better to allow her her glares until she became a threat.

Before he could think any further on the matter, the proprietress returns with a bowl of stew. Accepting the bowl with a nod and word of thanks, the Nierite moves to a table near the Legionnaire playing the Lyre, enjoying the tune being played.
_________________
Cody Bergman

aka = Haakon Marcus val'Virdan, Priest of Nier (Divine 1.
aka = Dyabe val'Abebi, Templar of Althares (Divine 1.4)
aka = Jorma Ostoman, Battlemage of the Coryani Empire (Arcane 1.2)

[PaldarisQueen]

(Apologies, this weekend was busy doing prep cooking for a medieval thing.)

Petronya turns her chair slightly to face Niloc. "I call Eastmarch my home, but sadly I am in the dark as much as the next traveler. I'm sure word will be out calling for suckers - ahem, great warriors and such any time, that's what I've heard. Seems like there's plenty to do here, while we wait."

Petronya raises an eyebrow at the musician; such a romantic tale seems out of place to her, in this war-torn land. When he is finished, perhaps she will ask what brought it to mind.
_________________
Carrie Amodio
Formerly Mirka Skullcrusher, Yhing Hir Stormlord
Petronya of Eastmarch, archer extraordinaire
Perpetual NPC

[GTseng3]

Niloc nods to her sagely. "And Niloc declares that suckers like Niloc shall answer the call of King and Country. Even if it is not Niloc's King and Niloc's Country." Niloc pauses for a moment, looking partially up in the air as if mentally going over the last few words he spoke. His brow is furrowed in confusion. Finally he seems to come to a conclusion, and he nods.

Then Niloc settles down and listens to the exquisite music, a smile on his face, the wear and care of the road seeming to melt away from him as he watches on with boyish glee. He waits until the last note fades, and then he claps enthusiastically.

"Niloc wonders, do you know 'The Tipsy Larissan'? Niloc enjoys that one."

Niloc

[Nierite]

After the Legionnaire minstral finished his song, and he had finished his food, the Nierite rose and started to walk to the mysterious man in Squamata against the wall. Leaning up against the same wall near (but not TOO near) the man, the Nierite casually says "Greetings to you, Sir. My name is Haakon Marcus val'Virdan. What, may I ask, brings you to these parts?"
_________________
Cody Bergman

aka = Haakon Marcus val'Virdan, Priest of Nier (Divine 1.
aka = Dyabe val'Abebi, Templar of Althares (Divine 1.4)
aka = Jorma Ostoman, Battlemage of the Coryani Empire (Arcane 1.2)

[Nierite]

[OOC: Just for clarity's sake. . .

Haakon Marcus val'Virdan stands about 6'1", with the typical red-hair of a val'Virdan. He is thiner than most of his kin, owing to the val'Emman blood he inherited from his Grandfather, and has a surprisingly 'clear' complextion compared to the usual 'ruddiness' of val'Virdans. He is wearing very elabourate, adorned Lorica Segmentata with embeddeded Fire Opals forming Holy Symbols of Nier. He appears about 20 years old or so.]
_________________
Cody Bergman

aka = Haakon Marcus val'Virdan, Priest of Nier (Divine 1.
aka = Dyabe val'Abebi, Templar of Althares (Divine 1.4)
aka = Jorma Ostoman, Battlemage of the Coryani Empire (Arcane 1.2)

[StatMonkey]

Looking up from his meal the stranger glances at Niloc, then shifting his eyes rests his gaze upon Petronya.

"I have seen a bit of what lies beyond the godwall, not much mind you, but enough. So if spilling your own blood to protect your homeland is the work of fools... then brand me one.”

Reaching into his bag he pulls out a long, dark iridescent claw and tosses it on his table… the claw, longer than most daggers, skitters to a stop right before an empty seat.

“I tell you this, every sunrise I pray to Illiir… with a proper sacrifice when I can... asking, no, begging him to grant the emperor the wisdom to send his legions to assist the king.”

Then in answer to Haakon Marcus val'Virdan question he adds

“My name is Acanthus val'Dellenov, I served as a scout with the Legion of Broken Shadows”

And with that... the stranger returns to his meal.
_________________
Pedro C Barrenechea
Paradigm Concepts, Miami
And all you need to know about Arcanis
New player: "You know, I'm not really sure we *should* win. I'm not sure we made the right choice."
Veteran player: "Welcome to Arcanis!"

[Hat]

Each note played by the minstrels seems to fall like drops of water on the man, washing away the road not in the dust and the dirt, but cares and wear. By the end he seems relaxed, more... human. His eyes take in the room more conscious once the song is done of the attention paid to it. Niloc's clapping sharpens his focus and gives him a target. The smile returned is roguish and not unfriendly. "Thank you."

He listens to the request and nods, taking a moment to sip from his glass and stretch his hands before returning them to the instrument. The new song is far more lively than the last, a baudy drinking song, though the minstrel makes no attempt to give voice to the song beyond what he elicits with his hands. The sound fills the room, lively and warm.

His eyes shift to each of the others in the room inviting comment, complaint or perhaps voice.

As others have drawn closer his weapon choice is a bit more obvious. A gladii on the right and dagger on left. The observant will notice another smaller handle poking out from the back for a left-handed draw.