Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » A Night in Dragon Tooth's Inn - Open for All

This is for everyone to RP in and gain new connections, network, and enjoy the night's festivities of food and drink. If RP's in here get sent off into private RP's with one another, then this RP was successful! Please DM me if you have questions. Occasionally, a random event may happen for your characters to respond to, which is also dice rolled for intensity. If you wish to roll for your response, you may do so - otherwise it isn't required. I will be NPCing the Inkeeper, who will speak in yellow colored speech.. Cas will be speaking in orange colored font.

It is late at night, and a hellacious thunderstorm has tormented the area for most of the night. The rain, gushing down like a monsoon, soaks every surface it touches leaving puddles and spots of mud in the ground. Buckthorne is a moderately sized village in the middle of a valley where goods are sold or exchanged. It is a central point for many trade routes to and from the capital, which is named Avalon. All the buildings are darkened except for one, where the smell of food and drink and loud voices can be heard. Singing, laughing, and various voices break the silence in Buckthorne. It seems tonight, the inn is fairly busy and packed. The warm orange glow of the Dragon's Tooth Inn radiates outward, enticingly inviting you to enter. All types of people can be found here both good and evil, noble and poor, lucrative and secretive. What you may find in here is anyone's guess. Take a break, stay a night, have some dinner, or participate in a drinking game. Will you enter, or stay outside in the rain?

The building itself is two stories tall, cobblestone and thatch roof, with a pair of lanterns and a wooden sign etched with a dragon. It is very well built, and has a stable to the side for horses. The inn is also has a place were pigs are kept, and it has it's own root cellar and storage in the basement. Bedrooms are upstairs, rentable for two gold a night.

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Cas cursed under his breath as he rode in on horseback. His clothes were soaked, he needed a smoke, and it's been six hours since the start of his ride. Ice blue eyes glistened under the shade of his hooded woolen cloak which was brown in color. The man's face was hidden to save the recognition from others upon looking at it. Whether or not he would be recognized out here could be anyone's guess, but the possibility was there. In any event, he needed a room and some food, and his horse needed to rest. The poor bay was near foaming at the mouth and gasping for air. It could be a couple days to ensure that the horse wouldn't die on him, or he would have to sell it for another. Buckthorne was one of those places on his map that was at risk due to the volume of people coming in and going out, but it also meant it had resources and goods for him to restock if it was absolutely necessary.

The stablehand took a hold of the reigns as Cas dismounted. After giving instructions to the stablehand in regards of care to his horse, Cas stomped inside, water puddles splashing as he made his way to the steps. Could the rain get any heavier? Even through his heavy woolen cloak, the drops of rain pelted his skull like a dozen pebbles being thrown at him. While none of the drops hurt, the force in which they came down was utterly surprising. Thunder boomed across the skies as the heavy oak door was thrown open and shut immediately behind Casonce he made it past the threshold. Cas cursed under his breath as the volume of sound changed from the thunderstorm to various voices laughing, talking, and speaking. Cas wasn't sure which was more deafening; the thunderstorm or the tavern's ambiance?

"Evenin' sir. What can I do for ye?" The burly innkeeper asked Cas when he walked up to the counter. The innkeeper was middle aged with blue eyes, balding brown hair with a moustache and beard. Laugh lines decorated his face, though his scars and muscles told of a more tense time in his life. Cas leaned on the counter toward the innkeeper. "I need a room please. Whatever you have. I need it for a few days. Preferably toward the back of the inn, and rather large." With the request, several gold coins were presented in secret, to which the Innkeeper looked down briefly with blue eyes and then back to Cas. "Well, we do have one room available usually used for important guests..." the innkeeper started to say. When Cas presented his purse which contained much more gold, the innkeeper was convinced. "But I think we can reserve it for ya. Give me fourty and you can stay as long as you like." The innkeeper whispered. Cas frowned a bit, knowing it was a steep price if he was only going to be here temporarily, but there were jobs he could take to recoup the loss. The gold was exchanged, and the innkeeper sent off one of his ladies to clean the room and have it prepped for him. "I want the key, also." Cas instructed with a glare, and the innkeeper obliged.

Now, time to settle. Cas took a booth in the back and threw himself into the bench, a rough sigh escaping his lips. Sore muscles screamed at him to get a hot bath going to relax, but he couldn't do that yet. The man needed food first, and to ensure that no one was following him. The soaked, woolen hood remained up as the warmth of the tavern began to soak into his clothing. Cas lit up a pipe and put it to his lips to puff on. The smells of various herbs added to the smell of the tavern as the noise from everyone else drowned out the thoughts circling in his head.

Dainty fingers dug into the soft, soaked soil of the leaf laden slope-side, clawing the maiden up the way from the woodland. Inky earth now packed the underside of her nails like black crescent moons tipping each of her fingers, and stained the skin on her hands with a natural darkness. As she climbed, leaves and bits of twigs clung to the tarnished night slip she wore, catching and tangling in the lacey hem, but the girl didn't seem to be bothered.

Once she crested the top of the slope, she paused a moment and listened, swaying gently on her bare feet and gathering herself. The wild wind whipped her wet, long locks across her ashen face and collarbones. It chilled her, lifting goosebumps upon her flesh and summoning forth a mighty tremble that seemed to emanate from her very bones. Cold, dreadfully cold... A deep roll of thunder sprawled over the sky above, as if encouraging her worries with ominous laughter. She embraced herself in attempts of protection from the elements, pressing herself forward towards the beacon in the night around her.

As she neared the structure, whose welcoming lights drew her like a simple moth, the wind began to carry towards her scents of sharp herbs and savory foods, along with the stubborn rain. Briefly, she paused beside a smaller shelter, where she ran her fingertips over the velvet snouts of the horses housed there. Alas, the saliva gathering in her mouth from the tempting smells drove her to bid goodnight to the beasts and carry on towards the promising glow of the Inn.

A strike of white light illuminated the surrounding darkness as the lass reached the door to salvation, pulling it open and slipping inside like a mouse. Ah, the fire. It beckoned her immediately, and she scurried to its cozy call. Fluid, graceful movements carried her across the floor through the scattering of wooden tables, as if she were some ballerina on the stage. Though, the light trailing of muddy water left in her wake was less elegant.

She slipped down to her knees beside the flame of the hearth, reaching her clammy hands towards the flickering licks of orange. Her lengthy tendrils of hair dripped slow, steady drops down her back, while smaller droplets rolled down her cheekbones and dropped to her décolletage. A gentle sigh of relief escaped her plump lips, whispered to the fire.

Thalia was truly not happy with the situation she found herself in. She had arrived in Buckthrone last night to find the last few ingredients for a potion a rich nobleman had requested. She usually wouldn't travel far for a job like that, but he had assured he would pay well. The ingredients were crucial to getting the potion right, and Thalia always wanted to deliver to perfection.

Dragon tooth and black spider paste had turned out to be difficult to find, and she was now forced to stay the night in the inn. This did not find Thalia well. She longed to her home with warm furs and silk robes, but alas the weather was not up for travelling the night. Luckily she had paid for bigger room at the inn, all to a far too hefty price for her liking. She huffed in annoyance with the thought and took a sip of her wine. At least that was decent.

The door to the inn opened and closed as a stranger arrived, making a cold wind breeze through. It was far too cold outside for Thalia's liking. She wrapped her black travelling cloak tighter around her shoulder. Her hands fumbled briefly into her bag where she searched for her most prized possessions. Her reading cards.
She had told many futures and answered many questions with the colorful pictures. Maybe it could distract her from the unfamiliar, loud inn for just a second? She began shuffling the cards in her hands. The colorful cards danced between her pale skin, and she instantly felt a bit warmer, happier and safer.

He wanders in, huddling into a corner with his loaf of bread. It's a little dry and gnarled, which is more than can be said for the rest of him, which is wet and gnarled. His cloak drips rainwater, and his hood and nose and hair have droplets running off of them, as well. He leaves a faint trail of water in his wake, clearer and warmer than the scummy puddles outside, but cooling and collecting dirt.
He nods apologetically at various patrons and guests, and makes eye contact (it seems) with the person who looks like they might be the leader of this place.
He shuffles into a nearby corner to eat his bread in the dry rainless hall.

It is faintly dark, and he munches on the bread as candlelights flicker, and his eyes rove across the room full of people.

Hey all - I am soooo sorry I did not get back to this sooner!! My goal is to post an update once a week so that this thread keeps going. Now that we have a good crowd going, this will be the start of Round #2! What happens in the rounds? Who knows. Only time will tell!

Cas had gotten comfortable in the tavern as others began to enter. Most were hooded until they stepped inside, so identifying faces didn't happen often. The ice blue eyes glittered in the limited light of the tavern, occasionally locking onto the inn keeper as his deep voice greeted those coming in. "Evenin' folks. Let me know if you need a drink." The innkeeper would turn to Greyson Howler who called him over. "What can I do for you?" he said, setting the tankard he cleaned down on the counter nearby. The warm smile showed itself through his bushy moustache as his blue eyes locked onto the man. "Food? Drink? Information?" The innkeeper said, making the last word softer than the others. It was evident that information was bought and sold here on a regular basis from all types of people, whether good or bad. A few fights broke out here and there, but it was never often enough to ruin the establishments reputation of fine tastes and people.

Cas turned his attention back to the other patrons. One warming herself by the fire, another sitting on the floor looking for someone, and a woman nearby that was shuffling a deck of cards. However, they didn't seem to be ordinary cards from the pictures on their faces. Reading cards? It intrigued Cas as he adjusted himself into leaning forward a bit, given the woman wasn't very far away from him. "I take it you might be a fortune teller, or seer? Cards like that are not often produced from normal folk." Cas said, deep voice booming over the crowd only a little. He kept his hood up for the time being to keep his face hidden. No need to let the wrong people recognize who he was.

Archer shivered, his huddled form concealed by his dark cloak as he scrunched up his nose in distaste for the weather. He sighed, he supposed it could be worse, the moonlight could be filtering through, turning him invisible randomly. He sighed, lighting up his hand in order to see around himself. The magical light filtered through the rain showing him the little town he was wandering into, he huffed remembering the lavish essence of his childhood for a moment before continuing forward.

He trudged up to the steps of what he assumed was an inn based on the warmth and laughter escaping it. Archer frowned again, disliking the idea of mingling with others, but still found it more desirable than shivering out there in the rain. After another several moments he put away his magic and worked himself up enough courage to enter the establishment.

As Archer walked into the inn his ears were bombarded by the cacophony of sounds inside, and his eyes assaulted by the variety of creatures here. The boy allowed himself a slight smile, if not for the concentration of people this would've been the place he had dreamed of for all these years. A place to escape the prejudice against his kind.

"Witches." he snarled under his breath, remembering what the people had called his family. He sighed, leaving the past behind himself as he found a table, settling into a seat before drawing a quick glyph beside himself to ward off any malevolent spirits. Once he had adequately protected himself the boy let himself settle in, leaning against the wall as raindrops slid from his dark hair across his face.

The vixentaur looked up from her paper at the newcomers, eyeing each one individually to assess any threat level. Watching how each paid her no attention, instead focusing on themselves, she turned her attention back to her paper “Where did you go...” she muttered

With his eyes closed and his head tilted slightly to the side, Sebin was almost certain he could sense the woman. There was a little prickling in the air like the static before a storm. Although looking up at the sky he suspected that that was all it was. He cursed quietly under his breath and looked down at the small bundle in his arms. What was he supposed to do with it? He had been certain that one of his brothers would know, but they had proved almost impossible to track down. Here he was yet again, traipsing through the back alleys of some unknown city, starving hungry and cold to the bone. He had to get help soon or the thing was going to die, and although he really didn’t want it, he was pretty sure he didn’t want it dead either.

He shivered slightly and stepped out of the doorway he’d been sheltering in. Lamplight shone off the cobbled street, little crystals of light refracting in his blue eyes as he moved along, his breath steaming. As he passed an alleyway a cloaked figure stepped swiftly out of the shadows and closed a hand around the shoulder of his cape, pushing him up against the wall behind. His vision blurred for a moment as his head hit the wall behind.

“What you got there?” a gravelly voice asked in his ear. His breath was rancid. “Fancy sharin’?”

Sebin recoiled and tried to pull away from the man, but the fist held him fast. He felt the sharp edge of a knife against his side and drew the bundle a little closer against his chest.

“Move on,” he snarled. “I’m not what you’re looking for.”

“What’s that there, then?” The man probed at Sebin’s folded arm with the blade. “Got any food?

The half-demon lashed out with his one free hand. His fist closed around the blade of the knife and he jerked it to one side, bringing one foot up between his assailant’s legs. He swore loudly as blood spilled from his palm. The pickpocket let out a howl of pain and staggered backwards, and from the little bundle came the ear-splitting cry of a baby, woken from its sleep. He cursed loudly, bending double as the wound and the child’s screams sent pain ricocheting through him. This had to stop. He had to get rid of the thing. He cupped his bleeding hand in the other one and followed the low hum of noise coming from a nearby tavern. He watched as a young man and then a woman entered, paused for a moment, and then followed in behind them.

The warmth and noise of the room enveloped him immediately. He cleared his throat quietly, conscious that his bleeding hand and the screaming infant were drawing attention. There was nobody here that he recognised, but perhaps somebody could help. He stepped past a table where the young shadewalker had sat and then crossed over to the innkeeper. Blood dripped onto the counter and he cleared his throat quietly.

“Excuse me..."

The boy opened his eyes by a slit and noticed the woman, and then the strange man entered. He opened his eyes slightly more to investigate. Was that blood? It was. Archer frowned, he didn't like the idea of letting everyone in the tavern know he wasn't what he appeared to be. Although, there did appear to be an array of different creatures here so maybe no one would care.

The boy sighed, he supposed if the man needed help he probably should give it to him. He began to push himself out of the chair when he realized the man was talking to the innkeep. Interesting, he thought to himself. What was the innkeep going to do for an injury? Archer tilted his head, quite a bit like an animal, and watched for another moment before walking over. He lit up his hand with sunlight,"Would you like some help there sir?" he asked, cursing himself for his stupidity, and his ingrained courtesy towards a stranger. Sir? He nearly snorted.

As dust removed his hood for just a bit then he noticed the injured person. Decided it wasn't worth bandaging his wound when he saw a boy walk over and ask if he needed help. He waved the innkeeper over when he could see that he wasn't busy, preparing to ask for some information if they sold that.

Sebin leant forwards slightly and peered over the bar. The innkeeper was elbows-deep in beer mugs and stacked plates and offered him only a conciliatory nod and a shrug, as if to say he’d be with him when he could. Sebin grimaced – he had heard many unpleasant sounds in his life but this screaming was enough to drive anyone insane. He jiggled the infant furiously up and down, trying to console it in the way he had seen mothers do before – but it only seemed to amplify the noise. Perhaps coming here hadn’t been the best choice, after all.

Sighing, he turned and almost smashed into the young man who had come up beside him. Man, or…? He had an unusual energy to him. Familiar, but difficult to read, and a little too innocent for the half-demon’s liking. He looked down at the boy’s glowing hand, quite forgetting that he was still bleeding profusely from his own.

‘Does it silence children?’ He looked at the boy, completely nonplussed. ‘I need to find somewhere to leave this thing. Aren’t you a little young to be an aspiring father?’

Swiftly making his way into the tavern Kiran had to get out of the rain. He was completely soaked from head to toe. Firstly the coat had to come off, shrugging off the large woollen coat it fell to the floor with a sodden thud. Even his white shirt and green waistcoat underneath were equally damp. Both hands with thumb and index finger pressed against the start of his hairline pushed back to wring out the considerable amount of water from his hair and onto the already wet jacket. Without his coat his sword was left visible, not something he was overly comfortable with so he took it off and wrapped it up in his coat. Gloves also came off and fingers gripped and extended to try and get the feeling back into them from being out on the cold for so long.

Finally taking note of his surroundings the tavern was surprisingly busy for this time of night, maybe that was due to the god-awful weather. He made his way over to the bar to see the innkeeper drowning in work, maybe it would be best to ask him for a drink a bit later on.

The screeching of an infant was all too obvious and Kiran turned to face the source of the disturbance. A white haired fella holding an infant and a young lad with a glowing hand? He took a moment to take in the whole scene and noticed the bleeding hand.

“It probably needs feeding, changing or drying off, they don’t like being cold”
The doctor had assisted the midwives on a few occasions but his main specialty was in adult care.

Sebin’s attention was drawn away from the glowing orb of light by the dishevelled human approaching the bar. He watched him intently as he, too, tried to lure the attention of the barman and found himself unnoticed. He closed his eyes for a moment - letting his intuition explore the nature of the man as best he could - before he realised he was being spoken to. The guy was human, and he had the feeling of somebody with a good head on his shoulders. Perhaps he was the perfect candidate. Yet there was something deeply disturbing about him… some taint of the macabre that caused Sebin to hesitate. Did he care if he gave the child to the wrong person? He didn’t want it, so what did it matter?

“That sounds …very sensible.” Sebin drew his cape back a little, then eased the child out from the crook of his arm, placed it on the bar, and slid it towards the human. “You sound like you know exactly what you’re talking about. How about you take him? You can have him. He’s a real…” Sebin swallowed, dryly. “A real treasure.”

Narrowing his eyes a little at the human – fascinated, despite himself, by the combination of good sense and dark mind – Sebin turned and went to leave the bar. The ale could wait. He was getting away.

Initially Kiran looked shocked at the offer, staring at the infant still crying on the bar top. Then even more astounded when the man got up and walked off from it. Dropping his wet coat and sword on the floor he walked ahead of the man in the hope of stopping him.

“Hey hey hey, mate, no I ain’t taking that kid. If it ain’t yours then why not give ‘m back to his parents?” He paused for a moment “Or is that even an option?” arms folded making a slight squish sound of wet shirt. Bright red tattoos along the lengths of his arms visible under the now opaque fabric.

“Your best bet is to leave it at the hospital or even an orphanage, not a pub” stating the facts bluntly.

With the height difference between them it was hard for him to not make it look like he was talking down at the man, that certainly wasn’t his intention.

Sebin’s eyes flickered closed. The man had shocked him, appearing so suddenly in front of him. He didn’t like being shocked. He inhaled deeply, then stepped up to the human and curled his fingers around the soft, wet wad of his shirt, pulling him closer and speaking in a low whisper. He was used to being looked down on; it did little to deter him.

“Because he’s mine,” he hissed up at the stranger. “He’s mine, and I don’t know what to do with him, and I don’t want him. I gift him to you – go find an orphanage if you must. Or leave him there.” He released the human with a sound of contempt and turned to look back at the child – incredibly now asleep on the bar top.

“I don’t actually know what he is,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. “He bit a woman I tried to give to him, and she fell dead on the floor.”
He gave a small laugh.

Kiran didn’t resist being pulled closer and brow furrowed at the explanation.
Pulling himself away and standing up tall once again “If he’s yours then he’s your responsibility” with a tone he took with most teenage parents he’d occasionally have visit him.

Looking back at the sleeping infant and the mention of a woman “And you think I fancy the same fate as her? No chance mate” he frowned and headed back to pick up his coat and sword. Continuing to look at the child. “If it’s as dangerous as you say then leaving it here will do you no good, too many have seen your face for one.” He pointed out. If you want to get rid of something dangerous you don’t do it in a public space.

The vixentaur looked over and watched the discussion between the newcomers. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of blood from one of them. Despite being an assassin, she never liked the sight nor smell of it. It had a foul odor to her canid muzzle.

Sebin’s gaze flickered over the other inhabitants of the tavern. For the most part they were concealed in shadowy corners – faces obscured by wide hoods – or even asleep. But the human was right, he had drawn attention to himself. He saw a woman in the corner (or was it a fox?) looking at him with a particularly revolted expression. He had been so distracted by the desperate screaming of the child and the pain in his hand he had thrown caution to the wind. He put a hand on the human’s arm as he turned to get his belongings.

“Wait, please. I’ve got to get rid of this thing as soon as possible and I don’t know what to do with it. If you know where I can take it, will you take me there? I’ll repay you. Name your price and I'll pay it."

Turning back to face the man when his arm was grabbed he stopped to listen to him with a neutral expression. He looked back at the sleeping infant then returned to Sebin. “At this time of night we’d be lucky to find any sort of help. Also this weather is not kind to anyone let alone a little one” he spoke in a calm but straightforward manner.

“You’d both be better off heading to the hospital in the morning. Saying that you look like you could use some treatment now” glancing down at the bleeding hand. “Did that lad try and help you before I arrived?” Referring to Archer. “I think my kit didn’t survive the rain.” Attached to his belt was a small, square leather pack. Flipping open the top he checked it’s contents. It was slightly damp inside, the gauze and bandages were no good in this state. “If magic means can’t help I can at least stitch it up.” He explained then continued back to the bar and ordered a hot tea.

Archer looked back up to the man, shaking himself out of his thoughts,"Yes! I can help," He replied before just barely sliding his glowing hand across the man's palm. The boy seemed more than happy to help, but less than pleased at the prospect of touching another's hand. He hated connecting to people when they would walk right back out of his life, and he knew there was nothing like a touch to connect two people. Especially two people touched by magic.

As his hand grazed the man's palm the cut knit itself together. Archer hissed, closing his eyes for a moment as he felt his own hand phantasmally sliced," Ouch." he growled," That must've hurt." he finally said, trying to convince them he hadn't felt anything. Feeling things was weak, and he wasn't about to be thought of as weak.

( sorry ya'all for not replying earlier!)