Indea- Pots and Prophecy
Nov 2, 2014 22:51:43 GMT -8
Post by ∆§Indea§∆ on Nov 2, 2014 22:51:43 GMT -8
A fresh breeze lifted through the tavern, cooling foreheads and blowing flour across the kitchen. The smells of cooking food bubbling in pots drifted outside reminding bellies that they were hungry. Of course anyone who had actually stepped foot in the kitchen knew to stay clear, the food did indeed smell good but the pots were old and poorly washed. Bugs and tiny critters made it's nooks and crannies their home. This included a crochety imp called Steve, who the cook insisted had an excellent palate and was a fine judge of his cooking prowess. Others begged to differ but they'd never had too many complaints and luckily for them it was the last Tavern for a good hundred kilometres. It had a reputation for a certain crowd of which there where plentiful travelling the roads, heroes. Who would boast of fine adventure and steel lined guts as they drank their weight in cheap beer and ate like there was no tomorrow. The kitchen had to cook in advance to keep up and the food was kept chilly by a couple of irate fairies who took their pay in the teeth left behind in bar fights. There was rumours of less savoury favours but you had to know who to ask. The main room, was a creaking oak fotress with tables and chairs nailed to the floor. The owner had grown sick of replacing them. A large fireplace often weakily hissed in the corner as the roof leaked more than it protected its residents from rain. Poor attempts were often made to clean and create a better atmosphere but no sooner was it cleaned than a hoard of customers made it messy again. Only one room in the entire place was in any semblence of upkeep and that belonged funnily enough to the barkeep. The guest rooms each held a bed that you wouldn't want to sleep sober in let alone for a whole night. A sign out the front called this tavern The Jaunty Merman, ironic given it was no where near the sea let alone a single pond. Perhaps it told more of the dreams of the innkeeper not anything held in reality.
The innkeeper was a stout gnome with thinning hair and an even thinner smile. All his weight was collected in the middle with thin bony arms and legs poking out from his waist. He had hard brown earthen skin and eyes like murky dishwater. It was hard to tell his age, whether he was quite old or merely well worn. No one had ever been as impolite as to ask. Despite his looks, Burlick Torque was a charming man and people found it difficult to speak ill of him. It was if he had put all his work into his charisma and forgotten about the rest. He wore deep reds and burgundy, unafraid of any attention it might give him. He wore a patch but over neither eye, it was just there as if to say he'd use it if he could. He would sit in his usual corner, only rising to answer questions or see to any little problem that was too big for someone else. His son was the barkeep and an odd looking boy. He was skinny broom of a young man, not quite full gnome but it was hard to tell what else he was. If you asked young Yarin, he'd tell you he was half-elf, although one thing for certain.. he was full of shit. He had large purple eyes and a long aquiline nose but that's where anything elvish started and ended. His lips were small and his teeth pointed, they poked through when he was lost in thought. His ears were pointed but more like a teapot handle than a knife. He had shaggy black hair with a life of its own and tough as wire. His skin was like a smooth ceramic pot, with more than a few cracks of dark brown. He dressed in anything he deemed fancy and was never seen without a silk tie. When the tavern got particulary busy, Yarin would help out in the kitchen while his father tended bar. All done of course with the help of two trusty tavern wenches or as they preferred to be called Salena and Bribox. Salena was a cute halfling who's make up grew heavier as the sky grew darker. She had no shame about her profession but was always strictly proffesional, no funny business unless she liked you. Bribox was a funny sort, unsual as a barmaid. They were androgynous and wore sensible pants and a loose fitting shirt that revealed nothing. They confused many a patron but many learnt to leave them alone or find sand in their mead. Bribox never said much but you always knew when they were pissed off. They had black and white hair and if you misbehaved, you soon learnt why. Bribox doubled as security as a shifter, warped from a lean figure to that a skunk. It was her one trick but very effective. Lastly but certainly not least was the chef, a rather mean looking orc and another reason they very rarily got complaints.
Truth be told though, their customers barely paid a single one of them any attention. They may as well been faceless drones for all the attention they got. The heros forgot them as soon as look at them and once on their way minds hazy. Struggle to remember the name of their unsual barmaid or pretty halfling or was it a dwarf? It was so hard to tell. There were propecies to be fulfilled, maidens to be rescued, dragons to be vanquished and the world to be saved yet again from apparent annilation. One would think the gods just weren't trying hard enough or had grown bored of trying to lay claim to the the pithy bit of earth called Landris. Whatever the case was, the world was always there in the morning and there were always stomaches to be tested in The Jaunty Merman. Life was predictable and good in their little world.
The dragon's head rolled loftly from its neck, blood splattering across the cave floor like a fountain. Every drop magically missing the maiden's snow white dress as she stood foot deep in mud. Her scream ringing out like a thousand piercing bells. Jacobus kinda felt like it was the dragon he was saving, not the girl. He wasn't used to such high airs, last week he'd been a simple farm boy. Now he was the simple chosen one and he wasn't about to let it go to his head. Things like this did not just happen every day, he'd been chosen. Him! He flicked his golden wheat hair from his face, crystal blue eyes blazing in the sun.... Sun? He was in a cave. He shrugged it off, all part of being the chosen one. Such details were not meant for the likes of him. The maiden continued to screech.
“It's dead you know, you didn't really think it stood a chance against the chosen one did you?”
The maiden stopped mid scream with a look of embarrassment. Her silky midnight hair softly falling across her alabaster skin.
“Oh! Err good job. What now?”
“I dunno, I'm kinda new at this. What do ya reckon?”
He turned to his mentor and the wizened wizard returned a raised eyebrow and took a large puff of his cigarette.
“Whatever you like kid. Why don't you start with her name?”
“Oh yeah, what's ya name? I'm Jacobus, chosen of the Phalesion prophecy.”
The lovely maiden's eyes widened in the appropriate level of awe and she stepped gracefully over the dead beast's head and offered her soft white hand to him. Her dress and figure still avoiding any trace of the filthy surrounds. It was majestic and her dress shifted in a non-existent wind as she moved.
“Susan, Susan Albright. Lady of a farm a few yards back. I err... work with pigs. This dragon took me right out of nowhere, how can I repay you?”
Jacobus looked her up and down before shrugging.
“I'm good. This is nothing really. I'm the chosen one, I've got a world to save and all that.”
The lady Susan Albright of a farm a few yards back blushed prettily. She brushed non-existent dirt from her dress and smiled like a dazzling sun.
“No problem, I've got to get back to my pigs anyhow. They aren't going to muck themselves. Well, it was nice meeting you Jacobush.”
“Jacobus, they're gonna write sonnets about me. Right, Stan?”
He turned back to his chain smoking mentor.
“Totally! It's only a matter of time Jacko, only a matter of time. Here love, take a card. Visit The Hairy Unicorn and get 20% off. Tell them the hero Jacobus sent you.”
Susan took the card in a delicate hand, smiling winsomely at the wizard before exiting the cave. Jacobus looked proudly at his handiwork. He swung his sword a few times for good measure too. Yup, he had this hero thing in the bag. She was just one of many maidens that would be throwing themselves at him. Why settle for the very first pretty lass? Besides girls like her were practically littering the place back home. No sir! He needed a real beauty, a radiant beauty that burnt the eye sockets.
The innkeeper was a stout gnome with thinning hair and an even thinner smile. All his weight was collected in the middle with thin bony arms and legs poking out from his waist. He had hard brown earthen skin and eyes like murky dishwater. It was hard to tell his age, whether he was quite old or merely well worn. No one had ever been as impolite as to ask. Despite his looks, Burlick Torque was a charming man and people found it difficult to speak ill of him. It was if he had put all his work into his charisma and forgotten about the rest. He wore deep reds and burgundy, unafraid of any attention it might give him. He wore a patch but over neither eye, it was just there as if to say he'd use it if he could. He would sit in his usual corner, only rising to answer questions or see to any little problem that was too big for someone else. His son was the barkeep and an odd looking boy. He was skinny broom of a young man, not quite full gnome but it was hard to tell what else he was. If you asked young Yarin, he'd tell you he was half-elf, although one thing for certain.. he was full of shit. He had large purple eyes and a long aquiline nose but that's where anything elvish started and ended. His lips were small and his teeth pointed, they poked through when he was lost in thought. His ears were pointed but more like a teapot handle than a knife. He had shaggy black hair with a life of its own and tough as wire. His skin was like a smooth ceramic pot, with more than a few cracks of dark brown. He dressed in anything he deemed fancy and was never seen without a silk tie. When the tavern got particulary busy, Yarin would help out in the kitchen while his father tended bar. All done of course with the help of two trusty tavern wenches or as they preferred to be called Salena and Bribox. Salena was a cute halfling who's make up grew heavier as the sky grew darker. She had no shame about her profession but was always strictly proffesional, no funny business unless she liked you. Bribox was a funny sort, unsual as a barmaid. They were androgynous and wore sensible pants and a loose fitting shirt that revealed nothing. They confused many a patron but many learnt to leave them alone or find sand in their mead. Bribox never said much but you always knew when they were pissed off. They had black and white hair and if you misbehaved, you soon learnt why. Bribox doubled as security as a shifter, warped from a lean figure to that a skunk. It was her one trick but very effective. Lastly but certainly not least was the chef, a rather mean looking orc and another reason they very rarily got complaints.
Truth be told though, their customers barely paid a single one of them any attention. They may as well been faceless drones for all the attention they got. The heros forgot them as soon as look at them and once on their way minds hazy. Struggle to remember the name of their unsual barmaid or pretty halfling or was it a dwarf? It was so hard to tell. There were propecies to be fulfilled, maidens to be rescued, dragons to be vanquished and the world to be saved yet again from apparent annilation. One would think the gods just weren't trying hard enough or had grown bored of trying to lay claim to the the pithy bit of earth called Landris. Whatever the case was, the world was always there in the morning and there were always stomaches to be tested in The Jaunty Merman. Life was predictable and good in their little world.
The dragon's head rolled loftly from its neck, blood splattering across the cave floor like a fountain. Every drop magically missing the maiden's snow white dress as she stood foot deep in mud. Her scream ringing out like a thousand piercing bells. Jacobus kinda felt like it was the dragon he was saving, not the girl. He wasn't used to such high airs, last week he'd been a simple farm boy. Now he was the simple chosen one and he wasn't about to let it go to his head. Things like this did not just happen every day, he'd been chosen. Him! He flicked his golden wheat hair from his face, crystal blue eyes blazing in the sun.... Sun? He was in a cave. He shrugged it off, all part of being the chosen one. Such details were not meant for the likes of him. The maiden continued to screech.
“It's dead you know, you didn't really think it stood a chance against the chosen one did you?”
The maiden stopped mid scream with a look of embarrassment. Her silky midnight hair softly falling across her alabaster skin.
“Oh! Err good job. What now?”
“I dunno, I'm kinda new at this. What do ya reckon?”
He turned to his mentor and the wizened wizard returned a raised eyebrow and took a large puff of his cigarette.
“Whatever you like kid. Why don't you start with her name?”
“Oh yeah, what's ya name? I'm Jacobus, chosen of the Phalesion prophecy.”
The lovely maiden's eyes widened in the appropriate level of awe and she stepped gracefully over the dead beast's head and offered her soft white hand to him. Her dress and figure still avoiding any trace of the filthy surrounds. It was majestic and her dress shifted in a non-existent wind as she moved.
“Susan, Susan Albright. Lady of a farm a few yards back. I err... work with pigs. This dragon took me right out of nowhere, how can I repay you?”
Jacobus looked her up and down before shrugging.
“I'm good. This is nothing really. I'm the chosen one, I've got a world to save and all that.”
The lady Susan Albright of a farm a few yards back blushed prettily. She brushed non-existent dirt from her dress and smiled like a dazzling sun.
“No problem, I've got to get back to my pigs anyhow. They aren't going to muck themselves. Well, it was nice meeting you Jacobush.”
“Jacobus, they're gonna write sonnets about me. Right, Stan?”
He turned back to his chain smoking mentor.
“Totally! It's only a matter of time Jacko, only a matter of time. Here love, take a card. Visit The Hairy Unicorn and get 20% off. Tell them the hero Jacobus sent you.”
Susan took the card in a delicate hand, smiling winsomely at the wizard before exiting the cave. Jacobus looked proudly at his handiwork. He swung his sword a few times for good measure too. Yup, he had this hero thing in the bag. She was just one of many maidens that would be throwing themselves at him. Why settle for the very first pretty lass? Besides girls like her were practically littering the place back home. No sir! He needed a real beauty, a radiant beauty that burnt the eye sockets.