Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » The Mystic Tavern [CLOSED]

In a demi-plane that few know how to access, to the south of a small mountain range, and west of a great oak forest lies a great expanse of plains. A small road through the forest, winding down past the large lake with a pier that's nearby, leads to a tavern. From it's outward appearance, it would seem to be barely large enough to contain a handful of people, it's decor seeming less inviting than a tavern would generally tend to be. The shutters seem to be in disrepair, and a general lack-luster appearance creates the strong sense that this tavern has been run down for quite some time. The only indication that this is an establishment, and not a run down home is the sign still hanging out front, "The Mystic Tavern", with a small flame stylized in the shape of a pint glass.

Inside the tavern, however, is an entirely different story. Belying it's outside appearance, the tavern is much larger on the inside than it is outside. The bar counter, tables, chairs, and floor are made of high quality woods, polished and lacquered to a perfect shine. The fireplace is always lit, though the temperature of the room stays at a comfortable level, regardless of what the person feeling it is accustomed to. Beers, liquors, wines, and other types of drinks are always fresh in stock, and of the highest quality, and though no one appears available to serve them, a sign hangs above the bar that says 'Help yourself, unless a bartender is present'.


(Make sure to check this post often, as the rules may be changed or updated as needed)
1: Follow all rules of RPR (of course)
2: If you're going to have to stop roleplaying for any amount of time, be sure to make an exit. If you're roleplaying devolves into a private affair where both parties are willing to take their time, feel free to continue posting, though make it known in some way that you're posts are separated from the current timeline.
3: In the event that a fight breaks out, character sheet stats are not required. Free form combat is entirely allowed, though you must follow typical rules of free form combat (no auto-hitting, nothing that calls the opponents actions for them example: 'he grabs Threneen's arm and throws him into the lake' or 'his spell forces him to the ground').
4: There are NO restrictions to what kind of characters are allowed. Any timeline, genre, etc is allowed in the tavern.
5: Assuming no aid, it takes approximately five minutes to reach the lake from the tavern, half an hour to reach the forest, and three days to reach the mountains.
6: There is ~NO~ limit to the number of people the tavern can hold, as it will adjust it's size to accommodate any number of people (both in the bar and the rooms available).

EDITS

Edit 1 - Rule 7: Players must agree as to what fighting style must be used. Agreements must be made, out of character (an preferably through private messages so as not to add unnecessary text to the thread) as to how combat will be handled. Agree on character sheets, type of stat system to use, and anything else that the players feel may be important. When possible, agree on how magic affects one another, so long as such agreements do not conflict with the above stated rules.

Edit 2 - NOTICE : The tavern can be damaged, but the power of the tavern repairs damage it may receive. As a means of measuring how fast the tavern repairs itself, note that if it were completely destroyed (which would be nearly impossible to do without cosmic powered characters), it would take an hour for the tavern to be fully repaired and restocked.

Edit 3 - NOTICE : Payment is never asked for, and actively refused in the tavern. It's stores are automatically restocked, and thus payment is not needed.

Edit 4 - NOTICE : Servers are magical servers, and vary in type and form. However, they are actual NPC's, and would not be illusory in any manner. They are creatures who decided that the tavern was a great place to settle down.

Edit 5 - NOTICE : If asked, the servers will say that the tavern is Unofficially owned by Sauron Runecaster, as he is the oldest remaining member of the original owners, and they differ questions to him as required.

*Were anyone there to see it, they likely would have missed it. A shadow, nothing more than a trick of light to most, seemed to move in the corner. From the floor, along the walls, and even extending to the heights of the ceiling, this shadow seemed to undulate in it's own space. Then a boot stepped out, coalescing from the sticky looking substance of the shadows, and pulling him forth.

He stands at 5'6" with long black hair that ends in gold tips, and crimson red eyes, wearing a raven black chest plate that has silver embroidered into it, with a long sleeve silk shirt underneath. His cloak seems like it's made from the shadow's themselves, and when he pulls the hood up, his face is completely shrouded in darkness. He wears black silk pants, with black leather boots that come up to his knees and folded down with dragons embroidered in gold on the fold-down parts. He has a sword on each hip. The sword on his left hip has an ivory pommel with an emerald encrusted into the pommel, and a silver cross guard. The sheath is ivory as well, with silver embroidery in a crisscross pattern from end to end, with emeralds in the sections between the crisscrosses. The sword on his right hip has an onyx pommel with a ruby encrusted into the pommel, and a gold cross guard. The sheath is onyx as well, with gold embroidery in a crisscross pattern from end to end, with rubies in the sections between the crisscrosses. He has two necklaces. One is a small heart locket made of gold, and the other is a platinum pendant with a staff and a mace crossed together, a sword standing on point between them. He has several rings, one of which looks like a wedding band, and another with the staff/mace/sword symbol as does his necklace.

Stepping fully through, he looks around the empty room, and nods. He sits down in the corner seat with which he just appeared from, gaining a full view of the room. From a small bag at his side, he produces a golden chalice, encrusted with rubies, emeralds, and diamonds. He props his feet upon the table, and smiles as a small dragon the size of a grown mans hand, and a small skeletal cat jump up on the table as well. He sips from the chalice, and leans back into his chair, propping it up on two legs and leaning back enough to perfectly balance his weight. With a contented sigh, he smiles.*

"It's been a long time since I've been here. I wonder if anyone else remembers how to get here."

It had been a long evening of tramping through woods and fields in search of another useless ornament a certain, stubborn patron required. Even if the quests were either monotonous or life-threatening with little in between, the magic he got in return was certainly worth it.

Ildris paused to sit down, prying off a black boot and rubbing the stiffness out of his foot. A reddish pseudodragon, the size of a house cat and sporting two rows of dragonfly-like wings down its back, glided down from his shoulders and wandered off. The creature was soon growling at its owner, lifting itself a few feet off the ground with a few flaps from its wings.

"What is it?" Ildris complained, pulling the boot back onto his foot. He finally looked around the field, taking in the handful of natural landmarks, as well as a building, not too far off. Society, out here in the middle of no where? Ildris admitted he'd long since quit trying to map his path and had lost any bearing on where he was. Nevertheless, there it was, a single building standing among the nature. And it appeared to be a tavern, too. Just what he needed.

Ildris made way for the building, the pseudodragon reclaiming its post on his shoulders. He was soon at the door, taking in the rickety sight. It looked long abandoned, but a look inside told him otherwise. The place was lively, and filled with people and a calm mood. He wondered how all these people got here, as the tavern seemed to be in the middle of no where, but decided that was a question for someone else. He stood in the door for a moment, stuck his head back outside, then stepped into the establishment. It did seem much bigger, now that he was inside. Odd. All strangeness aside, one person in particular caught Ildris's interest, a man with armor, weapons, and a particularly expensive-looking chalice.

"He looks rich," the pseudodragon spoke to its owner in a voice only he could decipher. "I want the gold cup."

Ildris shook his head. "I saw it first," he muttered back to the creature. Calmly, he strode up to the table in the corner the man was sitting at. "You look like you've been here before," he greeted, sticking out his hand to shake. "Would you mind if I ask a few questions?"

He gave a casual glance towards the door as it opened, seeing the man stepping through and the dragon perched upon his shoulder. He gave a quiet chuckle to himself, and gave a soft pet to his own pseudo-dragon, and nodded in the direction of the other beast. The dragon looked deep into Sauron's eyes, then continued playing with the skeletal cat upon the table.

He sipped from his chalice, and regarded the man as he approached his table. His eyes seemed to pierce the soul, a look that would make any mortal man want to fall to his knees or run. Having a dragon of his own, he knew the likelihood of the dragons intentions, and with a grin, set the chalice upon the middle of the table, leaning forward and taking the mans hand.

"Yes. I was one of it's first patrons. Greetings."

Everything about this man seemed to exude evil, and danger. His voice was cold, dark, and with a strong seductive tone. It was the type of voice you could see coming from the most beautiful of demons. There was a power that lurked under those eyes, and an age that strongly belied his physical appearance.

Ildris pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down, folding his arms on the table. His own dragon curiously made its way down his arm and onto the table, sniffing the chalice before eyeing the other two small creatures. Were they familiars as well? Folding back its insectoid wings, it stepped closer to the other two.

"Wonderful!" Ildris replied. His eyes quickly scanned the man's face. Instincts told him to leave, that this man held a power or high standing that made him a bite too big to chew. However, decent grace told him to stay for at least the time being.

"Do you know where exactly this place is situated?" he asked, calmly folding his hands in front of him rather than fiddle. "I was out searching for some reagents, and I don't believe it's on my map."

The chuckle that came from this man was dark and foreboding. It was like that of a dark god who was toying with his favorite play-mortal. Leaving his feet propped up on the table, he puts his hands on his laps, though anyone with any skill in combat could see that he was readying himself for defense if that was needed.

"I doubt you'll find a map of this place. As a matter of fact, I have a feeling you might find it difficult getting back to your world without help."

He picked up his chalice, and sipped it again. His face continued to hold that strange and evil grin of his. He wondered if this man would pick up on the fact that he just told him he wasn't on his own plane of existence anymore.

Ildris paused. That would certainly be a strange way of telling him he was a little out of the ways. He knew of certain points of similarity, like mushroom circles and little meadows, that could lead to the fey plane, but did that apply elsewhere, as well? He supposed it was possible.

"It seems I've gotten a bit more than a little lost, then," he laughed. The man's dark aura was beginning to make him feel horribly uncomfortable, but he hid it as best he could. It was always worse to be impolite, so he simply asked another question.

"That's a very ornate cup," he commented, gesturing to the chalice. "Is it magic?" The pseudodragon perked its had up at the word.

He raised the chalice a bit, allowing the light from the fireplace to glint off of its many gems. He sipped from it once more, then set it on the table, taking his legs down and leaning forward to place it before the man.

"It is, indeed. Please...take a sip."

There was something about the way he said it, much like a witch would offer a princess an apple. His eyes showed grave danger, and the power than emanated from him seemed to grow a bit, coming like a weighted stone to rest on ones shoulders. His own pseudo-dragon began to grin wickedly, and the cat began to regard him intensely.

This was definitely some sort of trap. The gems on that thing were undoubtedly real, though, and Ildris's own pseudodragon hadn't taken its eyes off of it since the subject of conversation had switched over to the golden chalice. Everything about the situation told him the cup was dangerous, but Ildris supposed he'd lived a good, long handful of years and was due a life-threatening experience or two.

"Alright, as long as you're not poisoning me," he joked, picking up the chalice and taking a small sip. His pseudodragon's eyes darted between him and the cup.

The drink inside was a clear liquid, but it tasted like Ildris' favorite beverage, and of the finest quality. Juice would taste like juice freshly squeezed from the prized plant that produced the best fruits, alcohol would taste like alcohol made from the finest ingredients. Sauron grinned a bit, knowing he would not expect this from the cup. He could see his trepidation at being offered such a thing, and knew how most anyone would react.

"Tell me. How does it taste?"

His voice still held that sinister tone, and his grin did nothing to help soothe a persons worry about what they might be consuming, or for their safety in any manner, for that matter.

Ildris stared at the cup, quiet. He looked inside of it, only to find generic, clear water. That wasn't possible- he swore he just tasted the most wonderful tea. He drummed his fingers on the table, deep in thought, as his pseudodragon moved towards the chalice and dipped its reptilian tongue into the liquid. Its scaly tail waved back and forth in amusement.

"...Is that what it does?" he asked. "It makes water taste however you want it to?" He leaned back in the chair, deciding to give him a second chance at a first impression, seeing as he still felt fine. Not everyone who gave off such a terrifying demeanor had to be a cold-blooded murderer, right? "Something like this has to have a story along with it," he started up again. "How'd you come across it?"

He grinned leaning back as he did and sipping from the chalice. He wondered if he'd immediately realize that he had not yet handed it back.

"Something like that. In acuatility, it is a magical liquid. The chalice never empties, and always tastes like your favorite drink. After long enough use, it can be commanded to taste like whatever you desire at the time."

The psuedo-dragon moved to sit next to Sauron's leg, after having propped it back on the table, with the cat sitting on the other side of the same leg. Sauron's presence didn't lessen at all, and his stare was still as intense. After looking at him closely enough, one would see the thine st of black auras surrounding his being.

"That's pretty amazing," Ildris responded. His pseudodragon, upset at having the chalice once more moved away from it, hopped onto the strange, intimidating man's arm and batted one scaly paw at the cup with utter disregard for its behavior. Ildris scowled at it.

"Get off of him, you winged lizard," he sighed, although it would continue to try and paw at the chalice despite verbal warning.

"Think of all the things you could do with a magic cup like this!" the psuedodragon hissed in the voice that sounded like draconic garble to anyone save Ildris. "It has all sorts of magical energy, Ildris."

The pseudo-dragon and skeletal cat began to haunch down, clearly about to attack the dragon as they touched their master. Before they had time to do more get a muscle to move, Sauron held up his free hand to them, causing them to merely stay hunched down and ready to attack. Sauron regarded the small dragon, his grin ever present on his face, his eyes playing dangerously with power flowing that only those who could see magic would understand as having the capability to destroy more than any typical full-grown dragon could ever possibly dream of doing.

"Yes. This is a powerful cup indeed. This is the least powerful thing in my possession, not including those things that I keep simply for the look of them."

His voice shifted, a dark energy pouring out that wasn't visible, but could be felt by everyone in the tavern, and also anyone around for miles. It was an oppressive energy that seemed to make gravity feel stronger, though there was yet to be any actual physical effect, and seemed to pull the will of all creatures to him.

"You would do well to mind your manners. You never know what may happen when you forget your place."

Ildris leaned as far back as his chair would allow. This guy was definitely not to be messed with, and there was no way he was risking his life just to get some stupid magical cup, whether that dang patron of his wanted it or not. He stared at the scene, silently willing the pseudodragon to go away.

The tiny dragon flared out its wings in reaction to the heavy feel of magic. It was well aware of the danger it was in, but seemed to have no concern for its tiny life.

"You've been through many adventures, then?" it hissed, this time audible to both sets of ears. "You must tell me your story." It carefully laid down on Sauron's arm, setting its chin on the rim of the chalice and quietly flicking its tongue once into the liquid. Tasted just like honey.

Sauron continued to stare into the tiny creatures eyes, and his black aura seemed to pulse for a moment. The creature surely would have felt a surge of power coursing through him, and would know that power to be as destructive as it was dark. With a flat, even tone, he spoke directly to the creature, seeming to forget that anything else was even around.

"I must tell you nothing. And if you do not remove yourself from my person, if you do not begin to regard me with the respect I am due, then I shall return the favor, and I don't think you will like how I show disrespect to others."

The look in his eyes was murderous. The look on his face was calculating. His body language screamed that he was ready to take physical action, though not a muscle in his body was tensed. Were this someone who was not so obviously well trained, most would have taken it as a bluff. Anyone who knows how to kill would know that this man meant business, and did not take kindly to the thing that seems to have gotten so comfortable with him.

The pseudodragon sat up straight on Sauron's arm, narrowing its beady eyes at the man. It stayed quiet for a long moment, carefully inspecting him.

"You've piqued my interest, yes," it hissed, flapping its wings gently, as if testing the air, "but have not earned my respect. Now, I suggest you lessen your anger before you injure any of the poor innocents in the establishment."

Meanwhile, Ildris slowly stood up and pushed in his chair as quietly as he could manage. This man was clearly out of his range, and he imagined he'd do far worse than try and lop off his hand were he to make for the magic chalice.

"I'm sorry for having bothered you, sir," he spoke, more quietly than before, "I'll just be, hmm, leaving... Now." He started to walk away a few steps, trying and failing to get the pseudodragon to follow.

Sauron's aura flared, the shadows in the room darkening to reduce visibility to nearly nothing. His eyes, however, shone brightly in the darkness. The phantom weight from before suddenly manifested into a physical thing, increasing the effects of gravity to nearly five times normal amounts. All that could be seen of him was his eyes, shining in the darkness.

"You clearly are in need of a lesson in etiquette," he said, his voice cold and calculating, all emotion having left him. "Respect must first be given, before any more can be earned. You have no respect for the people you attempt to interact with on even the most basic of levels. And I know your kind, you only respect power. This is your last chance to remove yourself from my person, lest I remove you from this mortal coil."

His eyes now stared into the heart of the dragon, a gaze that would pierce the flesh and bone of this creature and see into it's soul. He sought to discern the creatures true nature, for either it was much more powerful than it looked, or more arrogant than it obviously deserved to be. He looked over at Ildris, attempting to do the same.

The pseudodragon refused to move, other than to slightly hunch its back in response to the increased pressure of the air. Its curiosity never leaving, it began to wonder what this man had done to earn him such amazing powers. Did he have any sort of regalia, a spellbook? Perhaps it would ask, if the two were ever on good terms again.

"Says the man threatening to crush the frail body of a tiny dragon," it hissed back. But that was exactly it: the creature was almost completely lacking in soul. It was simply a puppet, a liaison between it and an entirely different creature. It had nothing to lose but the replaceable sack of flesh that was a familiar.

Ildris was a much more simple manner. He was simply a terrified, stupid boy. Linked to the familiar, but stupid nonetheless. He just wanted out of there, alive, and possibly with a few extra coins or expensive items if it wasn't too much trouble.

The crimson glow that were Sauron's eyes narrowed, seeing that the thing had next to no soul, he knew that it would care little for it's own life. Ildris, on the other hand, was suffering for what this little beast was doing. He knew that the beast had pushed him into reacting by doing one of the very few things that got under his skin, and it was time to take control back. The weight in the air vanished, and Sauron sighed, all light returning to normal.

"Yes, the body of a tiny dragon who has no regard for other peoples space. I have warned you, and given you opportunity to leave me. You have left me no choice."

Sauron's body was suddenly enveloped in electricity, with output comparable to that of a nuclear facility. Simultaneously, a shield appeared over Ildris, so as to prevent any arcs of power from giving him undeserving pain. The chalice disappeared entirely, and both of Sauron's familiars vanished as well.