((It looks like it has been a tad empty in here recently. I guess all the more time to work on a bio... and decide on a name, that would probably be helpful. ))
A female human walks in through the door of the inn, her black hair flowing freely. She looks around the tavern, sniffing the air slightly as she does so. She walks up to the bartender, "I need something strong," she says, putting two gold coins down on the bar. Moments later the bartender comes back with a large glass filled with a bronze coloured liquid. She takes a large drink of the liquid, "thanks, I needed that." She takes another look around the bar, deciding where to sit.
Alexander had eventually began to drift off, the warmth of the tavern and the soft torchlight causing him to doze off. He had been awake for almost forty-six hours straight, and the exhaustion was slowly creeping up on him. His mug, almost empty, sat forgotten on the table in front of him. He sat, leaned back in the chair, his massive arms folded across his powerful chest. He still kept an alertness of sorts to his surrounding, but other than that, had drifted off. Just as he was about to fall asleep, he heard a noise, and his eyes snapped open.
A human female had walked in to the tavern. She looked like your average female, except for one noticeable difference. Alexander's gaze was caught on her hair, and the very subtle sniffing gesture she made. He caught her scent almost immediately, and recognized it as one of his own. What an unexpected surprise, he thought to himself, not moving from his rather comfortable spot, but his curiosity growing. Then again, I was always taught to expect the unexpected.
Elizabeth noticed Alexander quite fast, his size not making him easy to overlook in the small inn. She noticed that he was looking in her direction, catching a small hint of his smell, heh, a worgen, she thought to herself, clearly not thinking of herself as such. She walked over to Alex's table, "mind if I take a seat?" She looked him over, looking for potential weapons, finding very few she was relaxing a little more, especially concidering her own small armory.
Last edited by Temp name; 2012-08-23 at 05:58 PM.
Reason: I apperently suck at typing, most obvious errors have been corrected.
Almost finished with his large mug of water by now, the tauren druid prepares to get up and get a refill as he notices a woman enter the bar. Looking over her, he sees something peculiar, a lean, muscled build abnormal for most females, yet it seemed familiar, especially the way her nose was moving, almost as if a canine sniffing the air...
It took all of 5 seconds for it to click. Ahh. A Worgen. He watched from the corner of his eye as she turned and approached a tall man at another table, with similar dark hair and muscular build. And another. It seems we have a bit of a bestial convention in here... I wonder if this was planned. Ahh well, as long as they don't start having a craving for fresh steak, I'm not too worried. The tauren chuckles quietly to himself at this joke. Keeping an eye and an ear on the pair, he makes his way up to the bar, asks for the mug to be filled with hot water this time, and returns to his table. Here he rummages through his satchel for a moment, pulls out a few various leaves, and drops them into his water, soon followed by a sweet, leafy aroma entering the room. Much better than the smell of wolf fur, if I say so my self. he thinks as he takes a sip of his tea.
Last edited by Knephertiti; 2012-08-23 at 06:34 PM.
The corners of Alexander's mouth turned upwards slightly. "Yes, you may," he said, nodding towards one of the empty chairs across from him. He kept his arms crossed, hiding the rest of his weapons' sheaths from the female worgen's view, not wishing to cause tension by revealing just how much weaponry he had on him at the moment. So, he allowed his two daggers on his hips to show, and his shoulder-sheathed knives. As he was about to speak, he caught another scent; a warm, soothing herb. He gazed at the tauren at the bar, and nodded to himself. So, one of our newcomers is a druid. He stopped, a look of mild surprise appearing on his face. Then again, so am I. A newcomer, anyway.
"What brings you here?" he finally asked, breaking the silence as she sat.
As Elizabeth sat down, she noticed the smell of herbs spreading across the room. She noticed a tauren sitting alone at a table out of the corner of her eye, druid I suppose. Wonder what he's doing here.. she thought, snapping out of it as Alex asked his question. "Not much, on my way to the Barrens for.." She trailed off at the end, looking for words, "a job." She said after a small pause. She took a small drink of her mug. "You?"
Realizing the two have now definitely noticed him by the herbal smell of his tea, the Tauren smiles to himself as he leans his chair against the wall and closes his eyes. He spends a few moments meditating, thinking back to the incident at thunder Bluff, as he often does. He comes to after hearing the female Worgen mention the Barrens, brought to by the name of his old home. In gazing down to the two, he notices a flicker of movement in the shadows, where the hall leads to the stairs for the rooms for rent. Interest gained, he studies the shadows for a moment, then barely managed to keep his laugh as a chuckle as he realized what he's noticing. He reaches into this satchel once again, this time pulling out a beautiful flower with many red petals. To this, he raises in front of his snout, speaks a few words, and blows on, gently. The petals begin to pull off of the flower, and drift into the air, meandering slowly towards the aforementioned hallway. As the petals reach the hallway, they begin to settle. A few fall right to the flow, but most stay in the air, not moving, as if they landed on something. Suddenly, they seem to shake, as they all fall off, and the shadowy figure once again is noticeable. The Tauren then laughs out loud, calling out in only slightly broken common "I would think you would know me better than that by now, Christopher. I have known you long enough by now, my friend, for you to hide from me that easily."
The form then growls, leaving the shadows of the hall to reveal a feline figure, but one that seems to have lupine characteristics. With midnight black fur, the cat silently walked towards the Tauren. As the cat neared the table, it began to change, it's form taking on a more humanoid appearance, but also more lupine. As the transformation changed, a midnight black furred Worgen sat down across from the Tauren. He was wearing similar garb to that of the Tauren, however his was dyed black, just as dark as that of his fur, and rather than a sack, he carried a large black and red polearm on his back. After sitting, the Worgen, apparently called Christopher, barks out "Damn you Jorn. You didn't have to use that petal trick. In any case, I had been there for quite a while anyways, so you must be slipping in your ago, old man."
Laughing again, Jorn the Tauren replies "Oh, and what fun would it have been if I hadn't? Besides, my attention was... elsewhere. And you know though I may be twice your age, for my race I am still considered young, barely an adult."
Christopher growls at the Tauren, before turning around and calling out to the barkeeper "A glass of red, and a mug of Dwarven stout as well." Christopher, ignoring the barkeeps comment "Will that be wine, or something else red..." then turns towards the pair of humans in the corner, having noticed earlier them as being Worgen as well, before looking back over at the Tauren, who was now leaning back against the wall again, effortlessly sipping from his tea.
Last edited by Knephertiti; 2012-08-24 at 07:56 PM.
Elizabeth had noticed the cat on her way on, but has passed it as a hunters pet, so many druids and worgens in here tonight. She again took a large gulp of her drink, awaiting Alexander's response.
Two druids; one tauren, the other my kind. Interesting, they are in a place like this. Who am I to judge, though? Either way. He blinked, returning back to the present. He looked at Elizabeth. "The Barrens, eh?" he muttered, picking up his empty mug and looking in it. "Damn," he growled. "Well, I was hoping to get here earlier, as I'm off to Ratchet, and then will be flying to Ironforge. Unfortunately, I was, ah . . . Interrupted, by a very foolish and inexperienced blood elf magi." Alexander chuckled. "Let's just say . . . He didn't make a very smart decision while we were, ah . . . Speaking? Yes, yes . . . I suppose I'll use that." He grinned wolfishly; something rarely seen, and set the mug down, pulling out another gold coin and tossing it to the barkeep. "Another one of whatever that was," he snapped, turning back to Elizabeth. "What sort of job requires you to travel to the Barrens?"
"My contractor prefers a certain.. Discretion," she said, "but it involves someone getting killed in one way or another. Anyways, you're off to Ratchet and then you'll be flying to Ironforge? Seems like a small detour you know?" She took another drink of her mug, "Another!" She yelled to the barkeeper, lifting her almost empty mug in the air, then emptying it. "Did you possibly mean you came from Ratchet?"
Alexander shook his head. "No," he replied. "I didn't come from Ratchet. I've been travelling by horseback from Elwynn for the past four days. I've pushed the poor beast hard enough that I'm shocked it didn't drop dead when I reached Stranglethorn. Either way, I handed it off to the first goblin I saw while entering Booty Bay, and came here. I was hoping to leave on my boat as soon as I arrived, but it was a tad bit later than I'd assumed it'd have been. So, I decided to sleep the night here, then leave in the morning." His eyes suddenly tracked the full mug as it made its way over to their table. The barkeep set it down, and Alexander's thick hand was wrapped around the mug's handle mere milliseconds after the barkeeps' had left it. He turned, surprised and tense, and walked off as Alexander lifted the now-full mug off frothing ale, and took a sip.
"Dwarven stout.." words passed through his mind lightning fast, as Grimgor stood at the door of the tavern. The only thing he understood from Taurahe shout. His face went sour as he heard the 'Dwarven' word. Like that would offend him somehow. "Why do i care?" he thought, trying to dispel the feeling. He was hesitating about entering the place anyway. Full of filthy horde members, corsairs, thieves and what not.. And goblins.. "Damned goblins.." he thought, the very idea of them disgusted him.
But he knew he had to go inside, as there were no other places to stay in this Light-forsaken hive of villains. There were no churches. No other inns. Only this stink-hole. He could not risk staying out tonight. He was alone, after all.
His hand hoovered over his Jambiya for a while, then while mumbling non-sense, he moved to the bar. Goblin bartender looked at him and said "What'll it be, bro?", surely teasing him judging by his white robes and obvious priest appearence, and grinned evilishly. Grimgor looked at him, sat on a stool, clenching his teeth, he said "Milk.".
"Riding horseback? I hadn't imagined that. Horses have a tendency to.." Elizabeth searched for words, "Disapear," she finally settled on. "For various reasons," she added quickly. "I do like horse meat though, as long as they haven't done too much work in their life time."
In the midst of the conversation, a young Human male enters the tavern. His pupils are hidden beneath his brown hat, layed with small blue lines, as he lowers his head, however they are colored Almond-brown. He has a light brown haired ponytail flowing off his hat as he walks slowly, he has a couple of sheathed weapons onto his blue belt buckle, a rapier to the side, a flintlock, a couple of traps and daggers and a black bullet pouch and sharpening stones, he also has a tiny hidden crossbow with a few arrows.
He has a light amount of facial hair, a small brown-beard that covers his face, he smirks lightly as he enters the bar, he has spaulders made out of light brown bear leather, a shirt and pants made out of blue cloth with a brown vest around the shirt, brown shoes. He looks like a mercenary and a hunter of some sort, he has a silver-colored ring..yet it's significance is hidden, he has a Chocolate colored Fox
((As you can tell, he has a thing for brown..it's a favorite color ICly for him and OOCly for me, I apologize for bad grammar))
"Excuse me for interrupting, is this the "Salty-Sailor" tavern I've been hearing all about, haven't been off to Booty Bay in a long time, Nesingwary's Jr. has some 4-legged game here with the animals and someone's gotta hunt for him."
Last edited by GeordieMagpie; 2012-08-27 at 11:06 AM.
Jorn continued leaning his chair against the wall, content with sipping his tea and listening to the various patrons of the tavern. A smile spread on his face as he overheard the conversation of the two worgen and the confusion of the male's upcoming travels. However, this smile faded as the female talked of her disappearing horses. It seems almost as if she had not been able to control her mind during the transformation, maybe she did not even realize what she was. With a condition like that... Jorn shuttered remembering the tales of the original worgen, druids of the pack, who in the end turned on both friend and foe alike. If that were the case, the young female would need help in realizing what power she had, and controlling it. Jorn decided to listen a little more, wanting to be sure of his suspicions before making a move.
Christopher, on the other hand, was not so reserved. After receiving his drinks, the worgen chugged half of his stout before nearly spewing it on his companion, laughing so hard at overhearing his fellow worgens misunderstanding and lack of they subtlety they are trying to maintain in their jobs. His laughter grew even more after hearing a dwarven voice call out an order for milk. A dwarf who doesn't drink? What a strange little man, even for the strange little men! Christopher even got a chuckle out of the female's liking for horse meat. After finally finishing laughing, he drained the remaining half of his stout, before putting down the mug and starting to sip on his wine.
However, both druids moods soured after hearing the hunter ask his question. Those who hunt the animals of nature heedlessly and without reason do little to aid the balance of nature, and often upset it further. As Christopher growls at the newcomer, Jorn put down his tea mug and stood up, showing his full Tauren height. He gave his companion a look to stop his growling, then replied "Yes. This is that Tavern. Why not grab a drink, and come sit here with my friend and I? Do not worry, he doesn't bite, not much, and I have something I wish to talk to one such as yourself about."
((Nothings wrong with a little color, even if the color's brown. In my opinion, your grammer is fine, but then again, I have never been strict about it.))
Elizabeth chuckled quietly at the hunter, "this is indeed the Salty Sailor, or if not, I've gone wrong. I wouldn't know anything about Nesingwary though," she said in a voice that wouldn't betray her laugh before, at the same time as the druid. Well, there certainly have been a couple of new people coming and going, she thought to herself.
"Hmmph," Alexander growled, rather loudly. "Nesingwary's a beast and a poacher, as far as I can tell. As for this being the Salty-Sailor tavern, I'd assume this was it. If not, then, as my friend here said, I've taken a wrong turn." This is going to be one helluva night, he thought to himself, taking a sip of his ale. He noticed the tauren druid's companion laughing loudly, spitting his drink everywhere. Cocking his head, he watched the worgen carefully. He seems amused. At what, I wonder?
"Better take it easy there, friend," Alexander said, directing the words to the worgen druid. "I don't want to have to report any deaths tonight to the bruisers. Especially if one of them is an accident. By the looks of it, that 'accidental death' may be you choking to death on your drink."
He listened intently on his surroundings, and watched in surprise as the priest-appareled dwarf ordered milk. Milk.
Alexander snorted. Hmmph. A dwarf that does not drink. Curious. All I can comment on it is that I wouldn't want him representing my people. He'd be more an embarrassment then ambassador. He snorted quietly to himself again, barely suppressing the laughter. Milk. What a fool. I'm surprised his own people haven't exiled him yet.
His gaze shifted back to the mercenary-hunter. I guess he likes brown, he thought, keeping his opinion in his head. Hmmph. For some odd reason, I'm not really surprised. He lifted his mug, chugging back another three-quarters of the mug's contents before setting it down and burping quietly. He could already feel the effects of the alcohol settling in his gut, and sighed to himself. Maybe this won't be such a long night after all.
Christopher's attention changed over to the other male worgen, obviously being addressed by him. A sharp-toothed smile settling on his lupine face as he calls back "Thanks for you concern, though if this is what kills me, I do believe my companion here will have a cow in surprise." Chuckling to himself, he stands up with his wine glass and approaches the two worgen, with his attention still on the male. "But yes, I have found quite a bit of the conversation this night rather amusing, as have you, based on your own barely contained laughter." As the reached the table of the two other worgen, his voice lowers and his face grows more serious. "And you are entirely true, about that Nesingwary fellow. If I had the chance, he wouldn't be doing any more hunting, if you catch my drift." The druids contempt for the "game" hunter obviously showing.
Alexander held the worgen's dark gaze steadily, not standing, but crossing his powerful arms. His own dark eyes, barely glowing a soft orange around his pupils, met the worgen's. "I agree with you completely," he said slowly. "Nesingwary is a monster. I don't even care much for animals; you do, although you're a druid, so it comes as no surprise. And yet, even though I feel this way, I can't suppress the burning desire to bury my dagger in Nesingwary's spine and watch him suffer. Skin him and leave his body to rot, see how he likes it." He reached out with his right hand, picking up his mug and draining the rest of it. The alcohol was starting to affect him, as he could barely tell by his blurring vision and slurred words. And yet, still, he was coherent to an extent, and wasn't swaying. "I must ask, though . . . What exactly do you find amusing about my conversation?" he asked, sliding his mug away and reverting his arms back to their previous position, his right hand resting on the hilt of one of his daggers sheathed on the inside of his left upper-arm.
World of Warcraft: Cataclysm Classic Patch 4.4.0 Notes
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Developer Thoughts - Plunderstorm Game Mode and Feedback
Rank the Dragonflight Dungeons (beyond knee-jerk reactions)
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