<font color="red"><h3>WELCOME TO THE DRAGONSLAYER INN</h3></font>

<font color="silver">The DragonSlayer Inn is an inn unlike any other in all of the known Realms. It has been built in the very center of the Miramar and fills an entire city block. The walls were made of huge blocks of white marble, polished so smoothly that they shimmer in the sunlight and fitted so perfectly that the seams are practically invisible. The walls are topped with merlins shaped like the bony plates of a dragons spine. It took a clan of dwarven smiths more than a year to complete the building and was, by far, the best work they had ever done outside of their homeland. The entrance is shaped like the mouth of a huge red dragon, with timbers as thick as trees, and the walls are painted with fiery red scales by the city’s most accomplished artists to complete the look. Every effort has been taken to make the DragonSlayer Inn as large and majestic as it’s name implied. It serves as a place of rest and entertainment but if need be could also serve as an easily defended fort. It is large enough to accommodate most of Miramar’s residents in a crisis.

Inside, the inn is even more impressive. The common room is octagonal and contains the usual tables and bar. A stage is set against one wall for performers to entertain the guests. Tapestries made by elven weavers decorate the hallways and many walls. However, the one thing that sets this room apart from all other common rooms is its permanent resident – the remains of the inn’s namesake – <font color="red">an ancient red dragon</font>. It's enormous scaly head is so large that few men in the room could spread their arms wide enough to touch both the bony cheek plates, except at the narrowest part by the nose. Those bony appendages flared out as they went back, to protect the beast's neck while still allowing room for it to turn its head. These are so wide they covered the entire wall. The open mouth is tall enough for a dwarf to stand upright with room to spare. Each black eye is the size of a dinner plate. The scales on the nose and forehead range in size from a man's palm to a small shield, and are as thick as a gloved finger. Where other hunters mount their trophy heads above the fireplace, this tropy is so large that the beasts' mouth IS the fireplace. The flames from the wood stacked behind the tongue rise up in the throat as though the beast were about to breathe its magical flame once again, searing everyone in the room, just as it is doing to the pig slowly turning on the spit mounted across the massive teeth.
Below the head, on either side of the fireplace, is a front leg larger than the logs in the fire. Both legs are tipped with four claws – each the length of a short sword and just as sharp - reaching out into the room. The huge, leather wings stretched along the walls angling away from the fireplace. Each wing was so large that it reached from floor to ceiling and ran the length of two walls. Since the walls are angled around the common room, the overall effect creates the illusion that the dragon is swooping down into the common room rather than decorating it. Rarely does a patron enter the common room of the DragonSlayer Inn for the first time and not take a couple of steps back towards the door.

The DragonSlayer Inn is specifically designed for adventurers. Besides the extremely unusual “common” room, there are many other features that set the DragonSlayer apart. A large, open-air courtyard in the center of the inn is large enough for fighters to use for sparring. There are wooden and straw targets in various locations to practice one’s archery. An inner wall has been built to isolate one area of the courtyard from the rest. Here, mages and clerics can practice their less-explosive spells. The walls of the courtyard itself are made of various materials, for those who care to hone their climbing skills and, at the top of the walls, two ropes stretch across the courtyard.

On the inside, guards patrol the three floors containing guestrooms constantly. All exits on these floors have an <font color="yellow">Alarm</font> ward placed on them and, for a fee, guests can have the door to their room protected by a minor glyph that will be dispelled at dawn. The reputation of the Dragonslayer Inn and Octagon has quickly spread, bringing adventurers from all parts of the land.</font>

<font color="skyblue">OOC>> This thread is primarily designated for the players that have a character competing in the Octagon thread. This thread is designed to give them an opportunity to roleplay and expand their characters a bit more. They will also be going on a series of adventures outside of the battles in the Octagon.

But, this IS an Inn, and other adventurers ARE welcome to visit. I can't promise you will find any adventures for your characters within the fair city of Miramar, but it IS growing in prosperity and reputation.

One other note - the Octagon and DragonSlayer Inn are located in the gameworld of Arkon....one conceived and designed by <font color="dodgerblue">VulcanRider</font> and myself. It is an island continent (very much like Australia). On the Eastern coast stand the Apex Mountains. These mountains contain a series of caverns called the Crossroad Caverns, because they connect to all other "official" AD&D gameworlds (Greyhawk, Forgotten Realms, Kara-Tur, and even Krynn (but not Planescape)). The gameworld is run based on 1st Edition rules.</font>

[ 09-15-2002, 11:35 PM: Message edited by: Cerek the Barbaric ]

<font color="silver">Cerek sits in the back room patiently waiting for the Octagonions (as some have come to call them) to show up. Mugs of ale and goblets of wine sit accompany plates of bread, cheeses, and meat on the table in front of him. To his right sits a man wearing a tunic and breeches with an odd design. Various sized stripes of blue, grey, and black run horizontally across both. The stripes mingle and merge to form a deceptive pattern that allows for easy concealment outdoors. A long sword is strapped to the man's side and a great bow is strung across his back. A smaller sword is attached to his other side and a large knapsack (in the same striped pattern as his clothes) rests on a small table beside him. The most striking physical feature is the man's hair. Pulled back and tied in a "mares-tail" that hangs down his back, it is shockingly white. This doesn't seem to be it's "natural" color....rather, it is more a complete lack of color...as if all the color had been drained from the very hairs themselves. In fact, that was exactly what had happened.

This man was a ranger and had traveled with Cerek from the beginning of their adventuring days. He had been with Cerek (along with some other companions) when they had set out to slay the dragon that now decorated the Inn. The ranger, named Balinor, had acted as the scout and snuck into the dragons lair ahead of the party. Although he was certain that the shadows concealed him, the dragon had been aware of his presence immediately and looked straight towards him. Their eyes had met and Balinor had been frozen to the spot from the DragonFear. Unable to warn his companions, the dragon had struck first, nearly killing one of the mages in the party. Balinor had finally recovered from the Fear enough to aid in the battle, but he had never forgiven himself for his failure.

Cerek noticed an immediate change in his longtime friend (aside from the hair, which had been jet black when he entered the cave). He had become very withdrawn and surly. Offers to "talk it over" were met with derision or silence. Then one morning, his friend had simply left without a word. Cerek had followed his trail for a ways, but realized his friend was being very thorough in covering his tracks. It was obvious he needed some time to himself. A year had passed before Cerek saw him again, but Balinor seemed to have regained some of his old confidence and fire. But now, he had come seeking help in a matter that he was not able to tend to himself.

Cerek had decided it was time to let these young warriors that had been fighting in the Octagon get a taste of some real adventuring.

He and Balinor discuss old times as they wait, knowing that the others would be here soon."</font>

[ 09-16-2002, 01:12 PM: Message edited by: Cerek the Barbaric ]

As Cerek and Balinor were engaged in their conversation, they became aware of a growing stench that was most unpleasant. Turning to look around to see what might be the source of the frightful scent, they saw a very tall and powerfully built orc barbarian just a few paces away. He was real ugly and dirty, and wore but a horned helmet, a leather armor vest, a loin cloth and strap boots. An enormous sword was attached to his side, probably too heavy for most normal humans. There was a slightly stupid look about his expression :D , but somehow Cerek and Balinor could tell that he wasn't hostile.

The orc scratched his left armpit. Instantly Cerek and his friend could pick up another wave of the pungent smell. "Hello, humans," said the orc in a really low voice. "Mah name's Zangief. D'ya 'now where ah may get a drink?"

[ 09-16-2002, 02:04 AM: Message edited by: K T Ong ]

<font color="silver">Cerek and Balinor were both taken by surprise. How did this half-orc end up back here instead of in the common room?

Cerek responded somewhat gruffly "Sorry friend, but this is a private meeting. Just follow the hallway to your right and that will lead you back to the common room. You should be able to find plenty to drink there."

Cerek also thought about telling him where the nearest bath house (or river) was located, but decided against it. He thought he had gotten use to "smelly" characters after being around that dwarf, Knuckles Akirason, but this half-orc was every bit as bad. Thank goodness it was still early in the evening, that smell will certainly kill a lot of the business tonight.</font>

"All right, thank yuuuu," said the orc as he turned and left. Cerek and his friend breathed a sigh of relief.

[ 09-16-2002, 05:50 AM: Message edited by: K T Ong ]

As Knuckles was walking towards the private meeting room he passed another adventurer, one that made even his nose wrinkle, several of the flies attending to the dwarf died, and several more began flitting around the orc, ye gods, thought the dwarf, I must know his secret...

He walked into the room with Cerek and Balinor moments later. "Ye said yeh have an adventure fer us, does it involve whitey here?" casting a suspicious glance at the ranger

[ 09-16-2002, 08:16 AM: Message edited by: Morgeruat ]

***OOC. sounds fun, I want in [img]tongue.gif[/img] hehe, nice name.. ;) how do I join etc?

I believe you simply just join. :D But Cerek will have to be the one to tell you.

[ 09-16-2002, 08:46 AM: Message edited by: K T Ong ]

<font color="coral">Well, it's not quite that simple, <font color="deeppink">K.T.</font>

Any character can come visit the DragonSlayer Inn, but if you want to do more than sit in the common room drinking ale, you will need to work the details out with me through PM's.

As I mentioned before, the "quest" in this thread (and some of the sub-plots) are solely designated for the members of the Octagon. Still, I will need to see how many of them actually show up. If the crowd is small enough, I may introduce other characters as the quest goes along. But I make no promises in that respect.

Miramar is a growing seaport town and there is an "untamed" expanse of country just to the north filled with bandits and other "unsavory" types. There is also a well established guild within Miramar for those who work the "night shift". I will try to work up some ideas as other people join, but I don't want to end up trying to run 5 different adventures for different characters. This thread was created as a direct response to some requests made by the players there, so members of the Octagon and their campaign will take first priority.</font>

Bacardi entered the inn, ducking his head as he stepped thru the door. Approaching the bar, he gave a long, appreciative look at the dragon's head fireplace. Though he's seen it daily since moving into the inn, it never ceased to draw his attention. "Someday..." he thought to himself.

Ben watched his approach, and hid a smile when Bacardi's eyes stole a look at the beast. He knew exactly what was running thru the big man's mind -- he used to have the same dreams of glory himself.

As the half-ogre stepped up to the bar, Ben aimed a thumb at a door in the back of the room and said "Cerek said t' tell ya he's waitin' back there." Bacardi nodded & walked on.

As he entered the room, he knew without seeing the dwarf that Knuckles had already arrived. [OOC - brings back memories, huh Cerek? private joke] After sizing up the stranger, he asked Cerek "You have problem? Need help?" Cerek waved a hand at the food & drink and replied "Help yourself -- I'll explain when the rest arrive."

Bacardi filled a plate, grabbed two mugs of ale, and sat as far from Knuckles as he could...

Seeing Bacardi walk in, the dwarf struggled to restrain his natural hatred for all goblinoids, even half-ogres were subject to it, although to a much lesser extent than orcs, and their like, luckily the dwarfs axe was firmly tied to his back, so as to prevent it coming free of it's harness and landing in tavern patrons, innkeepers tended to be bad sports about that kind of thing...

Finally after downing the closest approximation that the Dragonslayer Inn had to gutshaker the infamous, and toxic brew of battleragers; he stalked over to the gagging warrior/priest, "An what's yer problem pigsnout?" Looking at him the dwarf added, "any idea what this adventure is about?"

[ 09-16-2002, 01:58 PM: Message edited by: Morgeruat ]

"If I wanted to watch flies circle a 4 foot dung heap, I'd be in the stables. And if you'd clean yer ears, you would'a heard I'm waitin' for Cerek to tell us what's going on, same as you."

"Hey," Bacardi said to everyone in the room, "why is Kyoto sitting next door in the Society Ladies Upholding Temperance meeting, playin' with hisself?"

[ 09-16-2002, 11:42 PM: Message edited by: VulcanRider ]

Dravin walks into the Dragon Slayer Inn and approaches Ben Stone. "good day Ben" he says. "im looking for the gathering room for all of the Octagon fighters. our presence was requested, but alas im lost. you see, ive never been here, and i dont know where anything is yet". Ben Stone smirked at Dravin, and pointed to the direction of the gathering place. Dravin went into the room and sat at a large table surrounded by many chairs. their were mugs on the table too, enough for each person sitting to have one. Dravin took a mug, and filled it with fresh water, then drank it down slowly. "best not to dehydrate, just in case i have to do battle soon" he thought. at that Dravin drew his beautiful katana, and proceeded to pass the time by going over his practice movements. Dravin was determined to be ready for anything......

Me forgot about this place, puuurtie he thought to himself as he looked at it from outside, I reckon I should head in and see what all this talk is about.
Ducking under the door sill Meegosh immediatly caught scent of something very foul and alsmost wretched, "Arrg smells like my mother" he shout's, "whar be evryone and what is with the stink, did someone not clean that dragon afore the built aroond it?

The Huge 1/2 orc Berserker had heard of a call for help from his employer, and founder of the Octagon, Cerek. Had found Oorg Uggh living wild in the badlands, preying off whatever merchant parties were unlucky enough to travel through the area, and living in a cave in the wild. Cerek had encouraged Oorgh Uggh to use his fighting skills in the Octagon for their mutual benefit and Oorg Uggh had agreed. Now Cerek needed help so he was more than willing to repay the favor. Oorg Uggh had some trouble finding the Inn even though it was the largest object in the city, he wasn't the sharpest tack in the drawer, nor was he used to 'city life' It was a little overwhelming for him at first, but eventually he got used to the bustle about him. It helped that many of the residents recognized him from the Octagon. He eventually found the Inn though and as he stumbled through the door into the common room he was immediately on the alert. He let out a roar as he pulled his axe to the ready from his belt and charged. He was ran right tword the mouth of the giant beast his axe held high overhead waiting to deliver a killing blow. And then he swung his axe in a brutal downward stroke, and was just able to pull his strike wide as he realized that there was a pig roasting the dragon's mouth. Tentatively he reached out a finger a poked a huge nostil. The dragon didn't move. He moved over to the side of it and realized that it was mounted on the wall. Stupid dragons Oorg Uggh thought to himself. He grabbed to nearest serving lass and asked for Cerek. She pointed down the hall and he was directed to the back room where Cerek and a few other were already there. Cerek directed him to sit and help himself to the food and drink. Oorgh grabbed a majority of what food food was there and sat down in a chair and set about eating it as he waited.

*Grindall Walked Up To The Door Outside The Dragonslayer Inn And Kicked The Doo Hoping For It To Open And For Him To Make A Grand Entrance, But He Just Ended Up Hurting His Foot. Opening The Door The Conventional Way, He Hobbled In And Looked Around, Seeing His Friend Knuckles Over At The Table, He Went Over And Sat With Him*

<font color=Lightgreen">"Bought Time This Place Was Open, Them Lazy Dwarv.... *Ahem* Them Builders Took Their Times Didn't They!</font>

*Knuckles Didn't Seem To Notice Grindall As He Was Fixated On Oorg Uggh Who Had Just Walked Through The Door*

<font color="lightgreen">"Hehehe, Calm Yerself There Knuckles, You Wouldn't Want To Get Banned So Soon After It Opening!</font>

*twitch* *twitch* seeing two half orcs, and a half ogre in the same room Knuckles had to start gnawing on one of the table legs (which he could do standing on the floor), it was only the admonition from his friend Grindal that calmed him down enough to avoid dumping the table on the humanoids and endign the epic quest right there, so instead he took it out on the table, and after a few minutes calmed down enough to attack the gutshaker again.

<font color="lightgreen">Hehehe, There Ye Go Friend, Alcahol Is Ye Friend</font>

*He Lets Out A Laugh*

<font color="lightgreen">And Then Again, It's My Friend Too..</font>

*He Called Over A Waitress And Ordered Him And Knuckles A Drink*

<font color="lightgreen">I'll Have An Evermead, And For My Friend Here... Umm... A Tankard Of The Strongest Stuff You've Got... Yes... A Whole Tankard</font>

*He Shooed The Waitress Off To Get The Drinks And Turned Back To Knuckles*

<font color="lightgreen">So, How Ye Keepin Friend?</font>

After surveying the room and watching the stupid berserker almost attack the
dead dragon out of fear, and then hearing a weak thump on the door and seeing Grindal the puny walk in, Meegosh waitied for them to walk by and enter the room. He gave it a few ticks of the water clock and followed suit. He opened the door confidently and snickered at the two previous two entrent's. "hehe
ugly there (he point's Oorg) was scared by the dead fire place and puny there got beat up by the door, hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha,
with a glint in his eye's and a smirk on his face he walked around the table to see the smell dwarf gnawing on the table " Typical dwarf, cant tell real food from a table top, you do yer race proud this day" and with that said he sat calmly down in a chair and still smirked as he was glared at.

ooc> Sorry y'all, ahd to say it considering I have been all but absent in the other thread and missed out on the ripping fest that occured over there. :D

OOC: :D no worries i put that in there kind of comic relief [img]tongue.gif[/img]
Oorg Uggh was very happily enojying his meal, which was of course enough for 5 large men, when he noticed Knuckles. His hand reflexively went to the handle of his axe, as he shot Knucles a menacing look. "What's that smelly runt doing here?" Oorg Uggh snarled, with bits of food flying out of his mouth as he spoke.

<font color="coral">As the room began to fill with the different members from the Octagon, tensions were starting to run a little high.

~I guess that' to be expected~ thought Cerek. After all, the only interaction they've really had so far is fighting each other in the Octagon. Time to settle them down a bit.

<font color="silver">"Alright, let's all settle down a bit shall we? And let's try to save the "barroom banter" for the Octagon. My friend Balinor here has discovered a threat that needs some attention and has asked if the warriors from the Octagon might be able to lend a hand.

It seems there is a rather large group of hobgoblins encamped not far from Miramar. Balinor has scouted the camp for several days. It is obviously a raiding party....and they've chosen a location too close to Miramar for our comfort. So far, they've only raided some of the outlying farmhouses, but their numbers seem to be growing. They also seem to be very organized and disciplined....most unusual for their kind.

If this group is to have any hope of defeating them, then personal differences will need to be put aside. This isn't the Octagon and there won't be a group of healers waiting on the sideline. If you get careless, you'll likely wind up dead."</font>

He stopped and looked around the room to see what effect his words had on the ones gathered so far. He also noted at how quickly Oorgh was making the food disappear and called for one of the bar wenches. When she arrived, he told her to have much larger portions of food sent back to replenish their supply.

<font color="silver">"We still have a few members that haven't made it yet. We could definitely use the stealthy tracking of Lorath and Deathkiller. We are also still missing Kharn, Caleb, Neb, Mortilas, and Encard. Hopefully, they'll be here soon. In the meantime, does anybody have questions?"</font>

<font color="yellow">OOC>> Just a note to let everybody know that I will be doing more Roleplaying of Cerek and other NPC's in this thread. So don't take anything he says personally. In the Octagon, Cerek refers more to me as the DM rather than to him as a character. In this thread, I will be roleplaying him as I did in my PnP days. Just wanted to make the clarification. I personally don't mind the "banter" going back and forth - that's good roleplaying. ;) </font></font>

<font color="lightgreen">"Hey Knuckles, Ye Fancy Takin Those Bastards Out? I Reckon We Could Handle 'Em.</font>

*Grindall Signalled To Cerek With His Hand*

<font color="lightgreen">"I'm In On Ye Lil' Escapade. Hate Them Slimey Bastards. An' I'm Sure Knuckles Will Come Along, He's Not To Keen On Anything Goblinoid Or... Um... Orcinoid...</font>

*Grindall Laughed At His Own Low Vocabulary*

eh.. Hobgoblins? Are them like hobnails? Or just smarter than most 1/2orcs in this room, Aye I'll help yeh destroy em, sneakin may not be meh strong point, but I'll clean out the infesteration of goblinoids, heh, I may not even need a reward, if the sport is good enough.

Knuckles sniffs his rotgut and offers Grindal a sip It'll put hair on yer chest boy (and burn the hair outta yer nose) then pulls out a make-up case (the kind the finest bred elven lasses use) and begins touching up his Tye-dyed beard, then reaches into the edge of the fireplace, and removes some ashes, which he applies to his face, making him look somewhat like a steel-clad lion that got hit by a "color spray" spell

[ 09-19-2002, 03:00 PM: Message edited by: Morgeruat ]

"Hey, blondie" Bacardi says to Balinor, "you lead us to 'em & we'll clean 'em out for ye. How many are there? I'd hate for these little folk to follow me out there & not have nuthin to do 'cept watch me work..."

Still uneasy about just forgiving past transgressions in the Octagon, Oorg thought he would at least give it a try for Cerek. "How many of them are there Cerek," he asked, "and what do you mean by well organized?" Oorg was then pleased to see more food brought in, and he began assaulting it in a manner not unlike a starving pig at a trough full of rotten apples.

OOC: i figured our characters could still play on a dislike of each other, but maybe gradually learn to work together as the thread goes on. What do you guys think of this idea?

[ 09-19-2002, 08:45 PM: Message edited by: AzRaeL StoRmBlaDe ]

<font color="white">OOC>> That's basically what I'm expecting here, AzRael. Your characters don't necessarily have to like each other - and they certainly don't have to forgive past transgressions. They just need to try and put their differences aside during this mission.

<font color="dodgerblue">VulcanRider</font> played a mage in our PnP days that was the absolute bane of Cerek's existence. These two really didn't like each other much, but we often traveled together. There were lots of verbal sparring and "more physical" interactions between them.....but when the crap hit the fan, they fought with each other instead of against each other.

AFA the hobgoblins....I don't know the exact number yet. <font color="coral">Cyril DarkCloud</font> will actually be running them...and he is out of town until the weekend. I'm guessing at least 30-50, but that's only a guess. And to get an idea of what I mean by "organized"....check out the last page of the <font color="lime">Dark Clouds and Darker Plots</font> thread. I have a BladeSinger that is currently fighting a small patrol of these same hobgoblins. That will give you some idea of how <font color="coral">Cyril</font> runs them.</font>

OOC: so you are going to be playing NPCs in this thread too, is Balinor one of them? All In all it looks like its going to be a good time. I guess I'll have to pull out and dust off my dice, now where was that 20 sided one. . .
:D

<font color="white">Yes....I will be introducing some NPC's.......and YES, Balinor is one of them. He is a "highly" skilled ranger with some nice items. As I mentioned, he and Cerek are very close friends from their adventuring days.

Also, just because I've started this thread does NOT mean I will be "shutting down" the Octagon thread. We still have a few fights to finish up before this thread gets started good. However, I think a short break and a different type of gaming will give everyone a "fresh perspective" regarding the Octagon.

For the sake of clarification, the fights that are already scheduled WILL be finished before we start out in this adventure. Even if they aren't "written up" before the party leaves, it will be assumed that the fights WERE finished before everyone left.</font>

[ 09-19-2002, 11:36 PM: Message edited by: Cerek the Barbaric ]

"I will help this group fight the infestation of hobgoblins", Dravin said. "Goblins are the worst things on Faerun, next to orcs." With that said, Dravin grabbed some of the freshly laid meat and fruit, and sat down to eat it. After eating his fill, he decided that it was time for a nap. A well rested warrior is more effective in battle after all. Dravin relied on his wits and speed, if tired, he will be lethargic, and therefor useless. Dravin took his chair into a corner, leaned back against a wall, and quickly went to sleep.

As Bacardi watched Dravin drift off to sleep, a slow smile spread across his face. As Dravin's steady breathing turned into slow snoring, Bacardi reached over with his longbow, hooked one of the upraised chair legs, and YANKED! The look of surprise on Kyoto's face as he disappeared behind the chair brought a laugh from the other warriors. "Yer snorin' so loud I thought you was a dwarf", he said to the soles of Dravin's shoes, the only part of him that still faced the table...

[ 09-20-2002, 01:37 PM: Message edited by: VulcanRider ]

Hey now *whispered Knuckles* Just because the whelp's a noisy sleeper is no reason to be comparin 'im to a dwarf, we're at least twice as loud when we snore, and we're not half as lazy, or undisciplined

Knuckles then let Dravin smell some of the fumes drifting off of his drink (hehe chuckled the dwarf to himself, much more potent than the smellin salts the clerics pack around)

*Grindall Let Out A Laugh At Knuckles Comment*

<font color="lightgreen">Ah'd Hate To Hear Ye Snoring Friend.

So, Whats The Plan for These Gobbos? If They're All As Ugly As Oorgh Over There We Might Struggle To Look At Em' Long Enough To Hit Em!</font>

"Bah"!! shouted Dravin. "the childish ways of ogres doesnt disapear in their half breed brethren!! I wont worry about retribution, for your stupidity will be your own downfall Bacardi!!" with that Dravin spat at the floor at Bacardi's feet, and exited the room. as he was leaving, everyone in the room heard Dravin mumbleing, "FOOL!" was all that they were able to make out.

Oorg watched the activity with mild amusement between stuffing giant portions of food into his mouth. He then took a giant swig of wine, not even bothering to pour it out of the pitcher into a cup, he simply grabbed the pitcher and turned it upside down, letting the wine flow into his open mouth and some dribbling out down his chin onto his shirt. After the pitcher was empty he let out a loud BURP, and then turned his attentions back to eating, but it seemed again that he was out of food. He was looking around for more food when he remebered the pig roasting in the main room. Oorg got out of his chair, his belly grumbling, and headed toward the common room with visions of sinking his teeth into a roasting pig dancing through his brain.

<font color=silver>ooc: <font size=+2 color=turquoise>Well met, everyone!</font>
I suppose some greetings are in order, especially to those participants in the Octagon whom I have not yet met on the boards. I've been following the Octagon from the beginning and must say that I've greatly enjoyed both the battle posts and the interactions between the different characters. Hopefully my own small contributions to this thread will be up to the high standard youy all have set.

Anyway, since I seem to be in charge of the first monsters that need to be bashed -- let's start by providing a little atmosphere:</font>

<font color=lightseagreen>The moon is sitting low in the sky this night, silent and heavy and glowing with a blurred orange cast in place of its usual silver. The bite of an early winter rides underneath the October breezes and beneath the trees of this place thick piles of leaves rustle with the movement of the air. This rustling of dry leaves is easily heard tonight for the forest has grown strangely still and quiet itself and all is silent save for the movement of dry leaves and the sounds of the large fire whose flames dance with a delighted malice beneath the heavy orange color of the moon.

Gathered around this fire in groups of about a dozen stand a large number of warriors whose reddish faces have an almost stoic stillness about them. Their eyes, however, are neither placid nor still in their fixed gaze upon the flame. The merchant wagons have been unloaded of all that is useful, the animals have been slaughtered for food and the burning of boxes and barrels and carts has brought a day of blood and battle to its end. The fire finds its movements mirrored in the eyes of these humanoids, its consuming destructiveness drunk in greedily by the silent warriors. From each of their throats a low snarling begins to sound, an angry noise whose intensity builds as lips curl back to reveal sharp teeth. Soon nothing can be heard but this collective snarling which ruthlessly pushes all other sounds out of its way.

“Enough!” A deep voice imposes its harsh notes over the noise and a large hobgoblin strides into the center of the area. Standing before the hot and angry movement of the fire he stretches out his arm, “See how strong we have grown!” The eyes of the warriors are upon his own and he continues, “Bloody-handed Skurge has gifted us with the death-screams of enemies and the spilling of blood and the taking of spoil.” Reaching over his shoulder, the humanoid snarls and draws a massive blade that throbs with an angry orange color. His movement is answered by the sound of dozens of other blades being drawn from their scabbards. “Soon,” he smiles through bared fangs, “Very soon none shall dislodge us from this wood. We shall feast off of the wealth of merchants and warriors and grow stronger still.” His eyes gleam and his face turns upward, “We shall starve this city through the winter and with the coming of spring its blood and its plunder will belong to us.” With both hands he lifts the blade over his head and the warriors answer his gesture with the lifting of their own blades. All is still then save for the dancing of orange light off of sharpened steel.

Blood and spoil! The great hobgoblin shouts beneath his blade.

BLOOD AND SPOIL! The others repeat and the cry shakes the forest.

BLOOD AND SPOIL! The silence of this place is filled with notes of harsh delight at the thought of battle as the moon hangs silently above the forest, heavy with a strangely angry orange cast.</font>

<font color=silver>ooc: Cerek - as always, I will be happy to make any necessary changes to this, or any other post.</font>

OOC: Good post Cyril.

IC: <font color="99ff00">when Ugly left the room in search of more food Knuckles added some of his gutshaker to the half-orc's drink, a small amount was all it would take, to drop even the most powerful non-dwarf, for only their constitution could handle the rough brew, and among them only battleragers were foolhardy enough to actually drink it.

"Lets see if oog is dumb enough to drink this, or rather lets laugh at him when he proves it..." as he nudges Grindal in the side laughing.</font>

Caleb walked through the doors of the DragonSlayer Inn and was almost knocked over by a angry Kensai.
<font color=silver>"My adoring public your king has arrived!"</font>
Caleb then sat at a table and put a stack of portaits on top of it.
<font color=silver> "OK who wants a autograph? Single file line please."</font>

[ 09-27-2002, 09:19 PM: Message edited by: caleb ]

<font color="lightgreen">Hehehehe!</font>

*Grindall leant over and dipped his finger in and tasted Knuckles drink. Being half-elf, he wasn't too good with it. He Coughed surprisingly much for such a little amount*
<font color="lightgreen">He.. *Ahem*... Good Stuff</font>

*Grindall looked at Knuckles face and laughed*

hey cerek check you're pm's please!!

<font color=skyblue>A draft of cool evening air was permitted into the commons area that briefly cleaned the smoke and stench from the muggy air that hung in the Inn. Larry stepped through the door and closed it behind him. He looked around in a bit of sick amusement and disgust...as he had heard a few good rumors of this place...but it was evident now that those words were exagerated. Still, There was a lively team of customers about, and a few good ladies, mixed in with all the dross that one would expect in an Inn on this side of town. Seeing that nobody was on call to properly seat him, Larry strode over to the cleanest table he could find that was not up against a wall. if he needed to escape some vile criminal...he didn't want to aid his foe in his capture.

The place was a little different than most Inns and taverns he'd frequented...and he decided to give this place a chance to prove it's value to a paying customer.

Larry waited to be attended to, trying to avoid eye-contact with anyone.</font>

OOC>>>Thanks for the invitation, 250. I will give this a try. ;)