Tales of Old (Choose Their Adventure)

The Tavern

Crossview Village

Burly Bears Tavern

9:57 PM

  Loud noise filtered through the tavern and out to the bustling street. It was just approaching evening, the merchants were packing up their wares, ranging from smoked meat to beaded necklaces. Street lights flicker on in the darkness, outlining the last of those wondering for the night, save for the patrons of the tavern.

Within the tavern, it was quite small, just big enough to fit four shacks and that was pushing it. Crowded and bustling, uproarious laughter sounded, a game of darts taking place in the far right corner. The sweet bitter stench of alcohol burned your nose, setting fire to your chest and causing those to stumble into one another. A few tables were placed about, chairs all filled and people spilling out of them.

A bar stands to the left, the direct opposite of where the darts were taking place. One bartender manned the bar, a stout Dwarf that kept the place immaculate despite his loud demeanor. He took orders, beer sloshing from their respective cups.

Now, sitting at one of the tables, closest to the darts was a barbaric looking man. A human, though he was clearly mixed with another race. This is said because he was tall and burly, hair dark with streaks of scarlet and silver. Clothes bulging at the seams, a dark tunic tentatively clings onto him with a bears pelt hanging over his shoulder, fastened on by a thick leather belt. Gray pants and heavy boots finished his ensemble, topped off with a heavy broadsword slung across his back in a scabbard. Four emptied ales littered the table, a fifth frothing and sloshing as he drank it, half tilted. This barbaric man, name yet told, sat waiting for a fashionably late Orc.

Next, to where he sat, the game of darts made way, a tiny girl covered in soot and markings aiming for the grand prize. Leafy green eyes squinted, focusing as she brings her hand forward, letting the dart loose and hitting the intended target. Shouts are heard, combined into one mass. The small Dwarven woman doing a jig and collecting the silver pieces set upon the table. Behind her, angered patrons voiced their outrage, "Cheat!" Drunks looking for a fight, joined in the symphony, "Rigged, I tell ya!" Chaos ensues, a rotund man grasping the Dwarves ponytail and yanking, dark strands coming loose.

She releases a loud wail, not of pain but excitement, twisting despite his hold and sending a fist crushing directly into his nose. Blood spurted, nose rotated just slightly and clearly broken, the man's hands releasing his hold in favor of holding his bloody appendage.

The before mentioned Barbarian rises, towering over all in the room, knuckles cracking against the nearest bystander, knocking them out cold. It wouldn't have taken much, two-halves to the wind by way of alcohol. Despite the multitude of drinks, the Barbarian, seemed quite sober, a severe frown marring his face. Thick braided hair appears in his peripheral, brightly colored beads braided within, framing olive eyes and sage green skin. Tusks jutted upward and out, five inches in length at most and two inches in width, sharp at the ends. Yellow ribbon hugged the Orcesses neck, giving her a feminine look, despite her size and stature.

As fast as the fight started, it finished, with a spell from the far left corner coming from a woman in a light colored cloak. The spell expanded, reaching to everyone in the tavern and only slightly beyond it, a loud bell sounding in their head before a voice speaks, accent thick and heavy, "Stop this at once-" The voice boomed, the 'e' seemingly hissed out. The words echoed and bounced amongst the Patrons minds, along with a lone beggar awoken in the street. Hands felt but unseen, pushed those who fought right out the door.

Including a lanky boy, unseen behind the bar, hand hovering just above a slice of bread. Coated in filth, face gaunt, green scraps of cloth barely covered him, looking to be no older than fifteen. The party was thrown out, the tavern's door slamming closed behind them, the faint sound of music and debauchery heard through the walls. A moment of silence makes it round amongst them, none quite speaking yet. Eventually, grumbling is heard, the man who attacked the Dwarven woman drunkenly stumbling his way down the street.

Low hissing is heard, barely audible, the woman who cast the spell appearing before them. A cloak shields her frame, dark skin is just barely seen and slitted eyes, "You-" The one word is said with pure venom, heavily accented. "If any of you-" A hand swooshes out, thin, pointed claws at the end, "Want to come back, you must complete.. a quest." Her words are hissed out, 'e' and 't's elongated.

Chewing sounds in the ensuing silence, the small gaunt boy, eating his spoils before an answer is heard spoken through half-chewed bread, "Wha' quest?" The rest of the party echoes his sentiment, not wanting to be banned from their favorite-and the only-tavern around. Darkness closed in, the streets light barely illuminating the group and the strange snake-like woman. Eyes spied on them, unbeknownst to the group, stealthy as they watched the commotion within the street, garnering a front row seat to what will come next.

You have a choice.

A) Find out more about the snake-like woman.

B) Handle the Quest.