Forums / Roleplaying / Ye Olde Taverne

*Mops up Travis's charred remains and throws them out with the rest of the 'trash.'*

"And what be it that lies at the end of it?"

(Comes out of the spell)'Damn.' 'They always have to end like that.'
'Besides I must be loosing myself to all this total crap and just might actually be getting (shudders) serious.'

'Any idea where Cidellus and Demonsul are these days?'

*Muses as if he should do it and finally decided to help when he feels inclined to acquiesce to Travis's request*

'Now then, this might just hurt a bit,' muttered Himanil uncorking a nasty purplish black liquid, it's contents swiveling rapidly inside it. Walking up to Travis's remains Himanil poured a bit of it ober him and then bent for cover as a massive explosion took place.

'Um....well that might happen sometimes,' said Himanil looking at Travis's leg in place of his arm, 'But the point is that you're not ash any more.'
'Here have this,' said Himanil handing over Travis the entire bottle in his functional arm after looking at the look on Travis's face.
'Just keep experimenting and you'll be fine soon enough,' pronounced Himanil, 'Hopefully,' he finished as he locked the Tavern door behind him.

*Never hurts to try, who knows when the barkeep'll go inactive*

"Surely you be not saying to me that they have succumbed to other worldly wonders on this thing called 'internet' and that their inactivity here be voluntary!'

I really need to stop leaving, cursed Africa...

thank you :D

*Several explosions take place behind the tavern door, until Travis walks through the door, his body parts in the right palce, but his skin like a zebra.*

"Hello everybody!" Travis says, looking around at the patrons (like two or so?) stare at him oddly.

"Uhh, what went wrong this time?" Travis says, walking into the bathroom to look at the mirror.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

*Travis runs around the tavern, until he trips and falls on a hobo.*

*Demonsul walks in

"I'm still alive, in case you were wondering."

*Demonsul walks out

*starts to beat up Demonsul (after getting up)*

"WHERE THE HELL AHVE YOU BEEN!?!?!"

"Greetings Demonslayer, I prefer a pale ale or a honey amber ale"

*Stabs at God, who isn't here either.*

*beats the crap out of both Charley and Travis for picking on the inactive guy

"So the only way you can win a fight is if you find someone who doesn't fight back? For shame..."

*Slaps Charley, reverses time, and serves Drakos and everybody else their drinks*

*Watches the slapping go on while eying the unoccupied bar*

*Septim is still here, he just falls asleep a lot.

>>

<<

"I'm going to try to be around here more often."

*Demonsul sits at the bar

"Well, if I'm here, I might as well make the most of it. I'll have a Septim Shot."

*drinks the shot

"So, any news from the worlds of roleplay? Not much seems to reach my ears..."

"A Septim shot, one gets you buzzed, second gets you drunk, third makes you dead," said Septim as he poured the shot and handed it to Norathelon.

*Walks in, draped in blood-stained robes, and sits down at the bar*

"Ale, please"

"Karzun Demonsul."

*Demonsul notices Onslaught

"Wow, we're getting good traffic today, it seems..."

*Demonsul turns back to Norathelon, and asks,

"So, Norathelon, where are you from?"

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Demonsul. I come from a land far far away, where everything is always perfect and all that rubbish..."

*Norathelon laughs cruelly after this comment, then shakes his head.*

"I come from a small, insignificant swamp in the middle of nowhere, full of sadistic tribals and stupid Necromancers... It's not a pleasent place. And it's getting worse. I got out while the going was good... What of you? Where do you come from?"

*Norathelon leans forward, his dark brown eyes just becoming visible, peering curiously at Karzun Demonsul.*

*Norathelon leans back and laughs, shaking his head.*

"Oh I've heard of it. Beleive me, in the swamp there are few who don't..."

*Shakes his head slowy*

"No... The cult of Necromancers that infest the swamp were once located there..."

*Norathelon pauses for a moment, trying to recall the events.*

"The Cult was led by one Altalos Kalason, who has now, taking on the role of messiah for the savages in that swamp, renamed it Kalazonia. Originally, however, the cult was based in Broninima. But Kalason was a fool. He put an end to that. We started off as just a band of curious men who sought to uncover the mysterious art of necromancy. He had other ideas. He began using his undead soldiers and the cult itself to terrorise villages and towns. He overstepped his reach, and actually assaulted one, which brought about an armed response. The cult was forced to flee."

*Norathelon stops abrubtly, closing his eyes for a brief moment before raising his hands to pull his hood further over his head, his eyes becoming hidden in shadow once more.*

*Norathelon lets out a quiet sigh*

"The Necromancers are putting themselves on a war footing. I don't know why, and I don't know with whom they intend to go to war. But I know their chances of winning are slim. I jumped ship before mine caught fire. I don't want to get caught up in some nations great purging of the swamp."

*Norathelon states all this with a rather light hearted voice, displaying no sadness at the fact he's been forced out of his home.*

"Second one, this'll make you drunk."
*pours Demonsul another shot*