Forums / Roleplaying / Ye Olde Taverne
| Ye Olde Taverne | ||||
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The first beer of the new year! *So late* | ||||
* A bulkish figure walks in through the cobweb covered doorway. * Urgog examines skeletons leaned over their glasses on a few tables scattered about. "Anyone home?" He barks. * With no response Urgog continues his advance towards the counter. * Sitting down, the old stool buckles under his weight. | ||||
your post is quite a poignant reflection of vu as a whole :( | ||||
* Startled by a voice Urgog spins around looking for its source. * Hands prepared to draw various weapons adorned on his self. | ||||
** A cloaked figure seated comfortably at a table across the room gazes across at Urgog, noting the man's reaction to the disembodied voice through narrowed eyes.** | ||||
** A cloaked figure seated comfortably at a table across the room gazes across at Urgog, noting the man's reaction to the disembodied voice through narrowed eyes.** | ||||
* Urgog berates himself for not noticing the man sooner. "Where would the bartender be?" Urgog grunts in dissatisfaction. "My throat is parched!" "I've just moved into the area and i'm having a damned hard time finding a good place to kick up me feet. And tip back a glass of Ale." | ||||
"The bartender is long gone and won't return," says one of the skeletons behind the bar. "No one shall return." Despite the warning, a pleasant jingle plays and beers begin pouring. "It has been some time since I wasn't dead in here. So I'll entertain the newer guests for now...better late than never," said King Charley Deallus, one of the old guys here. | ||||
"I'm here!" grumbled the barkeep, appearing from beneath a pile of dust. "Just sleeping! Hang on." Cidellus then worked at filling all the drink orders before sitting down behind the bar again, somewhat sleepy. | ||||
I remember when this game use to have many people on here, Almost every | ||||
then contribute something and maybe others will follow suit | ||||
Been working on it. | ||||
-Walks into a tavern... lol- | ||||
-lols at valar for walking into a tavern | ||||
What game were you playing? Sounds pretty good! I think the huge range of personalities I remember back then were: Troll, Flamer, Prepub, Drama Queen/King, and then the actual nice guys were like...1%. Kingdoms did have life and there were a few people who actually took on a persona, but tbh I think VU currently is like 12 people who make up 100 accounts :p I pop in every few months to see if it burnt down yet. ;) Sadly, the RP forum died, technology advanced, and VU stayed kind of still while a billion new games came out each year. I just kind of work all day, come home, play a few games, drink, repeat. ~Charley | ||||
Yep. With me, the game itself was only really interesting for like two or three eras. There's only so many times I can rebuild a bunch of cities, engage in a bit of warring, and watch it all get blown up before I stop giving a crap. Now the RP forums? Those were quite interesting for a while. They died HARD, however. Like Charley, I still drop by and lurk on occasion, but there's honestly nothing really left. | ||||
Here is why I think that the roleplay forums were good four or five years ago: Because there were people who were roleplaying. I feel as though many of the problems with VU are caused by the community and not always the game itself. People are quick to place blame on the admin, and truth be told Zeta is an inactive admin who has often seemed out of touch with his own game but he isn't the issue. A while back Zeta posted something about how he was thinking about crowdsourcing funding to design a new race. If you know anything about how crowdsourcing or funding things via kickstarter works (or don't) you can probably reason through why that is a bad idea: You need a 'crowd' to source from and VU is a game that's been in a decline for years, and the community doesn't want to throw money at Zeta because they don't think he's done a good job, which is kind of true. At the same time it gives you insight into how the admin feels about his own game- he isn't going to do it as a hobby or labor of love, and why would he? All the community ever does is insult him or criticize him. If he can't admin VU as a thing of passion it would have to be for the money, and VU is not making him a lot of money because it does not have a lot of people playing, so even if you dont agree with it it's easy to at least see why Zeta is the way he is. Remember when Zeta put in that stuff that EVERYONE hated like the racial penalties that drove away half the already much smaller playerbase before being removed? The first round of 'new age' Fantasia that had a map so large and empty that it was not fun at all to play? The contoversial removal of Great Walls and Merges? Of course you do, it's all the people in VU ever talk about. The negative shit. The bitching. The complaining. How things used to be. Well look at how things are, the game is how it is and it's actually probably more balanced that it has ever been and the game right now is genuinely better than it was when I took a break 2-3 years ago with things like nerfs to AOTD. If you aren't active about administrating your game, you dont really understand your own game, and you don't listen to community feedback then you just can't be a good admin. If all we do is shower your admin with so many shitty ideas and suggestion like people did during the 'golden age' /player population peak that the admin can't even clearly tell what the community wants, we arent being a good community. If all we do is provide negative feedback, we arent being a good community. If all we do is look backwards at how things used to be instead of forwards at how they can be, we aren't being a good community. Do I need to remind you of how many people literally quit the game, sent Zeta angry messages, or made really bitchy forum posts when there were hundreds of people playing the game and it became clear that the admin couldn't give us something like 'BOATS'? I will continue using this word in all captials for emphasis to remind you guys of how ridiculous the whole BOATS ordeal was, seriously, go dig up the threads for yourselves. | ||||
Zeta isn't the problem though. The game's flaws aren't the problem. The community is. We really suck at working to improve our game, and anyone with eyes to see or a brain to reason will realize that in the absence of an admin it lies on the community to make the game good. So many of the awful things about VU just dont have to be that way: The game is terrible for new players for many reasons, we will never be able to change some of them because that's just VU, but for things like 'All of the information on the forums is hard to find, outdated, or outright wrong' the community can make a wiki and the problem is solved. Are we waiting for an admin to do this for us? That isn't going to happen, so we have to get the ball rolling ourselves. Why do you think the admin doesnt listen to his community? Probably because the community does not communicate clearly or effectively. Probably because the community likes to forget about all the dumb shit they have done whilst never forgetting or forgiving Zeta for the mistakes he has made. Probably because we don't give him any reason to care. Nobody is doing any work to improve the game anywhere, and people seem to forget that it isn't just the admin who can make the game better. Everyone just sits around on the same sinking BOAT talking about how much better shit used to be when the BOAT wasnt sinking because it has cracks and leaks that no one ever cared to patch and everyone expects the captain to repair the whole fucking BOAT, swab the poopdeck, and wipe their asses for them when the captain isn't even a god damn sailor anymore. VU isn't a bad game, and I think that the GvE round has brought a lot of life back into the game and it's actually a lot of fun. Most importantly the community is stagnant and aging, it needs new blood but the game is abrasive towards new players and GvE is about as noob friendly as VU can get. Hell, you guys should try it, it's fun! You said that the game was only fun for you for a few eras because building mines got stale? Well, it's probably been a damn long while since you've built mines so why not do it again? If building mines just isnt fun for you because it's boring and you are roleplayers, why not train some ogres out of taverns and then run at people with your drunken ogres? Just have fun with it. People never talk enough about the good times and talk too much about the bad ones. Do you remember how awesome some of the rivalries between kingdoms were? How amazing some of the wars were? How fun it was when the worlds got merged around the game's peak in population? Those were the good times, not the old times. You can never have the old times back, but you can have the good ones back. These are things that existed before in VU and can exist again, we just need to tell the admin what it is we want and he will try to give it to us if he knows we want it. He put GvE in, I bet he'd do something like merge the worlds again if we told him we wanted him to. Maybe the harsh reality is that the BOAT was never very good to begin with, we never found the right amount of sailors needed to sail it, and we have a shitty captain and a shittier crew and the BOAT was always doomed to sink, but I don't think that that's the case, | ||||
*walks in the door* | ||||
Cobwebs line the corners in the rooftops, window shutters creak as the wind tickles them back and forth. Paint is falling off the side of the walls, exposing the slightly rotted wood behind it. A single termite leaves from under the floorboards as if to say the place isn't worth a good meal anymore. a sudden, intense gust flows into Ye Olde Taverne. One door on the ground outside, the other on its last hinge. At the bar sits a few malnourished citizens, across the room a sleeping body that could pass as the deceased, and a single man (Barney) atop a crooked wooden box delivering a dry speech about the community that's in shambles. Broken bottles, tables, and chairs line the floor like a heap of garbage. *Snap* a table leg bursts under a foot. a few more steps are met with shattering glass and wet sloshes of puddled, stagnant booze. A bearded man approaches the bar in silence. Draped in ragged clothes that fit the scene of the bar, torn, stained, and smelled of fresh cooked hash browns. He stops at the edge of the bar, reaches his hand into a jacket pocket and pulls out a bright, shiny gold piece and lays it gently on the counter top. "I'll take anything the rats haven't gotten into." He says in a deep, scratchy voice. He finally raises his head so he can see just under the brim of his large, round hat. Noticing no Bar Keep, he leans against the counter with a sigh and clutches his lower stomach. Soaked with blood his hand stays tight against his shirt. Grunting in pain he realizes this may be the bitter end. No food, no drink, bleeding out. All he wanted was a last meal. "Ple.... please, help...me" was all he could say with grinding teeth. | ||||
The bearded man leans over the counter then the lean turns into a slouch. He collapses. A dry raspy voice speaks up from the darkest corner in the room. "He's dead" The dying man says, "I'm not dead yet..." "No, the barkeep... he's dead. There nothing left but dirty water. I've drunken about everything left to drank except this" The stranger, with a significant struggle, manages to get to his feet, though visibly wobbly. Using tables and chair for balance he makes his way over to the dying man. The stranger is about 17 hands and less than 10 stones. His face is sunken from years of replacing meals with alcohol. Upon reaching the man he notices a small pool of blood under his right boot. Pulling a dented flask from a satchel draped across his shoulder, "Here... drink this" | ||||
Suddenly a chill wind blows open the door to the Tavern. At first all that can be heard is the echoing noise of the doors....slowly you realize that in the far distance a wolf can be heard howling, soon it is answered by another wolf in the opposite direction...another joins in, then another...soon the Tavern seems' surrounded by the howls and growls of wolves on the hunt. Heavy footsteps are heard on the porch, the silhouette of a travel weary warrior can now be seen framed in the doorway... "Tis good to be back home, tho it appears home has seen better days".... | ||||
The man with the wound grasp the flask that had been handed to him "Is this really home? Or is it the sad remains of our childhood memories?" He tilted his head backward as he took a long swig. In a fluid motion, choked down the bitter liquid and poured the rest on his wound. Angered beyond belief, he rose as if his wounds have been suddenly healed. Ferocity plagued his face, for what was about to be a calm death in a taverne had turned to the terrible thoughts of being torn open by wolves before becoming unconscious. The flask dropped from one hand while the other dug deep into a pocket that lay inside the torn cloak. Emerging from the dark his hand revealed a small black orb. A few concentrated moments later, a dim, dark purple glow lit the orb from the inside out. Before the bystanders eyes the orb started to shift its shape, slowly elongating and sharpening, A flash of light snapped the darkness and now the man wielded a beautiful two handed dual bladed Naginata. Curved to fit the swift battle style of a rogue but strong enough to pierce the heaviest of armors with enough force behind it. Glowing in silver blades and gold etched handle, The man stands tall, one hand removing his hat and setting it on what is left of the bar. His hair, in a ponytail. Golden blonde flowing down his back. His ears piercing through his hair and stop in a point. This Elf had lived here many years ago, recognizable now that he is no longer concealed. Eyes filled with rage. Once battle had entered his mind, there was no stopping him. He would fight to win, or die in the name of peace. Meanwhile, the wolves gathering in numbers outside the taverne move in closer for an easy meal, three targets are no match for their great numbers. Their necks lowered and covered by raised hair, low threatening growls escape between their sharp, revealed teeth. They inch closer and closer. Growing more hungry every moment. "It matters not! I will defend my memories from all forces of evil and leave this world in a peaceful manner! Not be torn apart by savages! Get out of the way!" He directs his vision toward the man at the door and begins to pick up speed. In a full sprint by the time a wolf leaps at the figure in the door from behind him. | ||||
The wolf finishes his leap, but rather that attack the figure in the doorway from behind he leaps in front of the figure and adopts a defensive stance, clearly protective of the man in the doorway. "Hold, the wolves mean us no harm...well, they mean me no harm, and as long as you show no ill intentions towards me, they will not attack you." The wolf curls at the mans feet and keeps his eyes on you. Now that you can see its size clearly you suddenly realize, tis a direwolf... "Do I know you? I have been away for many years and have yet to see any of my old comrades. I had no idea the land was suffering like this or I would have returned earlier...I am pleasantly surprised to see the Tavern still standing. My thanks to those who tended it in my absence." *Taking my travel cloak off I hang it on a hook near the fire to dry, turning the slight sheen of a silvery chain mail glints from the flames of the fire. An obviously mended surcoat can be seen worn over the armor, a black and white sigil is emblazoned on the front....a howling wolf.* "Please join me and share a drink, and explain how our fair realm has come to this point." | ||||
"is.. is that... the emblem of the Brotherhood?" From the bar, the diminutive man straightens his posture. As if wanting to be taken more seriously, he adopts an authoritative tone. "I once shared outposts as a member of the Royal Order with the Brotherhood." He motions to a table with 5 chairs. On the table are grimey playing cards and assorted empty bottles. In a strong brushing motion the man clears all of the bottles and leaves the cards. He then turns around and grabs the flask back from the bleeding man. "Would you take a seat? Please allow me to catch you up." | ||||
*I swing my blade while at a sprint to the door, Once seeing the wolf submit to its pack leader, I redirect my blade into the wall next to the man and it slices solidly into the door frame to a complete halt.* "Well, why didn't you say so." I say with a great relief *I return to my original state of pain, slouch over and grab my wound. I leave my weapon stuck in the frame as I turn towards the bar with the other two individuals. As I reach the bar the blade disappears in a dark purple flash and the globe I once has re-conjures into my palm and I place it back into the torn cloak around my body.* " Yes, it is by the gods work this taverne still stands, but if I do not receive medical tending, I won't." *I try and sit on a barstool that looks steady but when I apply half my weight one of the legs slip and I start to fall. Immediately catching myself on the bar I grunt in pain. The middle section of my stomach has fully bleed through my clothes, leaving dark stains larger than a platter. My hands covered in blood, I tear at the shirt covering my abs, revealing deep gashes the length of Nazgul teeth.* "Please Brothers...please help me." | ||||
"This is going to sting" [OOC: sorry switching to 1st person now] I lean down and motion the victim to lie on his back. I pull out my flask and pour is remaining contents over the wound. The patient winces but not nearly to the severity I expected. "Does anyone have any clean clothes?" Frantic now. Which is curious, because moments ago I was in a near catatonic state sitting in the corner. "Don't move and apply pressure to your wounds" "I NEED CLEAN CLOTHES, RAGS, BANAGADES ANYTHING, ANYONE?!?!?" "Friend of the brotherhood, can you help? Barny, stop mutter and look! Septim, Charley" Screaming now, my emotions are irrationally taking over. When I notice no sudden motions in my direction I begin to weep. | ||||
I reach into somewhere else in my clothes and produce a tattered cloth. I motion it to the wolf master... "Please"  | ||||
*I take the tattered cloth, a deep sigh escapes as I examine it in slightly trembling hands* "It was foretold that the wolves would return someday, when the land was torn asunder, if a sign was given that the wolves were not forgotten" *I walk to the wall and hang the banner high*.... "Old dreams die hard, brothers are forever, the Brotherhood is returning, thanks my friends for not forgetting"... *Turning to the wounded man I toss a small vial over*...."Tis an elven potion of healing that I ran across on my years of journeying" | ||||
Cidellus suddenly woke up in the corner, covered in dust and cobwebs. "PFffffffaaaaa," he coughed. He then coughed a few more times before sweeping the dust and cobwebs off and approaching Drakos. "Drakos! Good that the owner is back. This place really has seen better days." He sighed, wiping some more dust off and handing the tavern keys over. "Take it you want these, then? Apologies on the state of the place. Business really died." | ||||
"Some old names coming around...older than me it seems. Hah! Well, it has been awhile...my days of the Roleplayers Academy, Roleplaying Guides, and other co-op stories with Septim are well behind us. If only things hadn't nose-dived already," sighed Charley as he dusted off a few corpses and shoveled them out the door. | ||||
-As the cold rain began to trickle down my cheek, I groggily rose from the pile of corpse that had been swept outside a seemingly run-down tavern. Looking around a bit disoriented and with a painfully dry throat spoke.- "Ahgh*coughcouch* ehergm well that was a nice long nap..." -Shaking the dust off me, I went inside only to find "Ye Olde Tavern" empty. Rummaging at the bar, I grabbed a bottle fine bourbon and exclaimed to myself quite grandiosely.- "Awesome! Free booze~!" | ||||
A gust of wind enters the Tavern, the door can be heard to being forced open....rusty hinges squeal in protest of a long rest being disturbed....Shadows flicker and duel with errant sunbeams that filter in through dirty windows and the slowly opening door. Bits and pieces of banners and tapestries that hang forlornly from the walls hinting of a glorious past in the lands slowly drift in and out of sight as the light plays across the room. | ||||
*Kicks the tavern door open* "I need mercenaries for an escort mission along the banks of the river" *smirks* "The pay is high. Enough gold coins equal to a years pay" | ||||
kicks Tybalt back out the door he kicked in. Grabs Cao Cao around the neck and scribbles twat on his forehead. | ||||
The drunken Bling casts Cao back down on the floor, and stumbles to the bar. "Horus " he mutters in his deep Clint Eastwood esk voice.. "whiskey! Peanut butter whiskey. Pour it" | ||||
And one strawberry. Shaken, not stirred. I think :big-grin: | ||||
"I not your fukcing bar keep..." Horus murmurs, yet stumbles to his feet and shuffles behind the bar. "Septim's serum... no... whats this?" Horus pulls a dusty bottle out from behind the bar. Its cork crumbles when he gives it light tug and some bits fall in to the elixer. Horus gives it a whiff. "OOOOOO WWWWEEEEEE, thats not peanut butter, but it certainly is potent. I recken you could tie on a nice load with this. Really put some hair on the scrawny chest of yours" Horus reaches again behind the bar and produces two shot glasses. Obviously dwarven since they appear to be carved from stone. He pours. "Bottom's up!" | ||||
Drinking alone for 1 week now, Horus is feeling a bad case of the spins... | ||||
Bling straightens Horus up, scribbles Twat on his forehead and instructs him to "follow the sign" | ||||
" Anyone drop this," Ohm yawns, pushing Tybalt through the still swinging doors and sidestepping inside. "Smells like someone uncorked the "Mule sweet", what's the occasion?" | ||||
Bling drops a rock on twatohmly's head and scribbles twat on the bottom of his feet | ||||
McMax still sitting in the stable resting by his old nag. | ||||
As twatohmly starts to stir from the Rock on his head, Bling whips out his marker, scribbles Loser across his forhead, and pulls out a wine bottle, showing McMax the label... mcmax fine wine his mouth reads out, as Bling raises the bottle and smashes it over twatohmly's head with a grin... | ||||
Hmmmm? What are those two doing in the stable at night? If they wanna fight, they can go outside!!! | ||||
Awhooo...where are the wolves? London? Maybe closer than that... | ||||
London? nah its full of poles and cobras natives romanians. wolves maybe at wolverhampton | ||||
I'll look there then. Thx mate. lol | ||||
An old man with a pointy hat walks in and mumbles something about Christ and a new year, he then casts a spell that causes bubbles to come up from ye ale. | ||||
Who is this Christ? What is this "New Year"? | ||||
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