Miller opened the door to the tavern and with a sigh of relief dropped the heavy weight of his bone crusher hammer onto the floor next to the bar. miller sat down and as he ordered a mug of Gordok green grog, his eye's locked onto the undead woman sitting next to him. even if she was a rotting pile of bones, she had kept her natural beauty. "hi there what's your story?" he asked her taking a gulp of his drink.
((first time RP'ing ever))
The door of the tavern eased open as a small figure shuffled her slippered feet towards the counter, quickly followed by the even tinier pitter-patter of her imp. With more than considerable effort, the gnome hopped her way on top of a stool at the edge of the bar and dropped her load of haphazardly gathered parchment down. Slinging her backpack off and sitting it on her lap, she pulled out a small cloth bag and rummaged through the coins within noisily, hoping to pick out a few silver before the barkeep addressed her.
((Also my first time RPing! This looks fun. ))
Tonight was a good night for the ole bartender. The usual rowdy crowd of the Salty Sailor was relaxed, mostly due to a certain bartenders knowledge of the drink, and the fact that the weather in Booty Bay happened to be just right. The barkeep smiled a toothy grin as he thought about these blessings, then approached the newest patron of the tavern.
"Whats yur throat hole be needin this evnin me good gnome?"
Her eyes tilt sideways for a split second of intense concentration, gears whirling in her mind, before arriving at her confident reply. "Rum. Definitely rum. I think better when I can't see straight. Rumsey Rum if you have it." She paused. "Oh, of course you have it. Down here in the tropics. In a port town, nonetheless. Yes, perfectly reasonable - and profitable - for the Rumsey trade route to dock here and it would be awfully irrational to not intersect right here and... Er." She trailed off, realizing that no one was listening.
"Rumsey Rum aye? I don't reckon if we have any Rumsey Rum," the bartender said as he searched his brain for the drink. Aye ye scurvy lot! Do we have Rumsey Rum?!" He said to all the patrons in the bar. "OF CARSE WE HAVE RUMSEY RUM!!!!" was on of the more understandable replies as the tavern broke into a chorus of drunken responses.
"Aye, we got ur posion," he said as he found the bottle and poured her a drink.
Cayra leaned in towards the enterance of the tavern, and stared in. It's not as deserted as I would prefer, but it would have to suffice, she muttered. Wandering into the wooden building, she pulled her hood lower, and concealed what she could with her longer flowing cloak. Taking a seat at the rear coner, she sat down silently, in an attempt not to gain any form of attention. Relesling a hand from beneath her cloak, its skeletal shape was clearly displayed.
Clawed, bony fingers, reached to a bind of leather upon her belt. Pulling the container to the table, she unraveled it. As the contents lay before her, she stared at each for brief moments. A selection of daggers, knives, and poisons, rested upon the tavern's table. Lifting a notched dagger up, she looked towards it, as her yellow glowing eyes inspected the sharpened side. Running a lone boned finger against it, she slightly nodded, and placed it back within the leather binding. Reaching to another, more slender knife, she repeated her actions.
((Playing around with a new to-be concept of a character.))
Her mouth hung open, unsure how to reply to someone much larger than her, an orc, even. The ridicule of the more Light-bearing races was still made her uneasy. An orc, however... that elicited a more complicated mix of emotions than "uneasy". Her eyes searched the death knight for a clue as to how to respond, but his drunkenness left him blissfully unaware of the tension. Unfortunately, her imp could understand Common as well as she and this orc could.
"Hey, who do you think you are talking to me like that? Ooh, I ought-" His hands flickered ever-so-slightly as rage boiled up. However, he was silenced by a wave of the gnome's hands. With that, she dismissed him and his visage left this realm.
"Let me finish my drink and I'll be out of here. Didn't mean to impose on your ideals, orc." Embarrassed and almost as enraged as her minion had been, she buried her blushing face in her papers.
the drunk goblin stumbled all the way across the room to the undead with her nose in papers.
''sho uhh your imp doshen't mind you dismisshing it like that? when i dismiss my ghoul he makesh a biiiiiiig deal out of it. he throwsh hish armsh around. (literally) and growlsh at me. now, i jusht tell him il feed him a rat when i come back and he happily waitsh for me outshide.
sho uhhhh what are ya doing there?''
he said pointing to the books
((This character's a gnome! I'm assuming you're too drunk to tell right now. ))
"I'll deal with him later. Must be nice having a minion incapable of intelligent speech." She regarded the goblin, barely able to stand up straight, and wondered if it was worth a conversation with someone so intoxicated. That question, of course, was overshadowed by the unnerving sight of the empty, blue flow of the formerly dead's eyes shining out from the sockets of a goblin. She took another swig of her rum and swallowed it hard to chase the feeling away before continuing, leaning in towards him. "And uh, well, er, you wouldn't happen to be part of the Bilgewater Cartel?"
"I did not want you to leave miss, I won't bother you any further, it is just that the presence of demons makes me very uneasy. I understand that you keep them in control, it is just that I have seen this go terribly wrong. If you know my people's past with the legion I am sure you understand. I thank you for respecting my wish."
The orc bowed to the gnome woman.
When the goblin came close the orc watched him mumble at the gnome. Garom liked the snappy attitude of the little woman.
((Sorry for the late answer, I live in gmt +1
ALSO: If someone enters the tavern it would be nice if you gave a short description of your character, I thought till yesterday that the Death Knight is a blood elf ))
Kassandra mentally shrugged at the commotion over the demon as she sipped her (by now, almost empty) glass of wine. With a resigned sigh, she got up and padded up to Garom's back, coughed quietly, and tapped him on the shoulder.
"The gnome is in full control of her demon, and even if she wasn't, it's only one imp. Come on, now. Let's sit back down and drink. Some more."
Without even waiting for Garom to answer or respond, the Forsaken walked back to her stool at the bar, and slid on to it. Kassandra stared for a moment at her glass of wine, then dipped her hand in to her cloak and produced another gold coin. She slapped the coin on to the bar with the palm of her hand, and called to the barkeep.
the Goblin focused at the undead sitting next to him and realized the undead was nowhere near tall enough to be an undead. She was a Gnome!
''wow sorry miss, i mistook you for an undead. But if you ask, Yes Yes! im part of the cartel. who's asking? what do you need? unless your part of the law. then, that guy outside did it.''
the goblin pointed to the papers.
what's those papers?
((fixed my picture i race changed and forgot to change))