Post by damukag on Feb 29, 2008 14:52:56 GMT -5
((Old RP from the official forums that I started and had fun with before it dropped off the page. But it won't this time, because I am awesome.))
The sun had already set by the time Jon saw the dark outline of the inn emerge from the howling curtain of snow that had encompassed everything further than a few feet in front of him. The sight of the building reinvigorated Jon and his legs, tired and nearly frozen stiff from wading through this snow, broke into something that could only be described as a rapid stumbling. When he reached the entrance he fell against it, almost falling to the ground as it opened inwards. Quickly shutting the heavy wooden door behind him, he let out a deep sigh and leaned against it heavily, surveying the room.
The room was packed full of both travellers seaking to escape the blizzard that had so suddenly descended and locals who were seaking meals, drinks, and maybe some company as well. A single large fireplace was built against the far wall with a small area cleared around it for people to sit by, and to his right was a rather populated bar counter. To the left were tables with a variety of customers from both the Horde and Alliance. In the corner was a staircase leading upstairs. The fireplace and many torches provided light now that the sun had set.
A few people had looked up from their evening meals to see who had come in, but evidently such an entrance was not uncommon, and most had gone back to their own business immediately after seeing the newcomer was only a young, scrawny human boy. Jon waited another minute before he moved again, making a beeline for the fireplace. It was crowded, naturally, but he managed to find a small place to sit between a regal looking Night Elf and an undead creature that was missing several fingers and toes. The elf moved aside politely to provide more room, but the Forsaken merely muttered something in a strange tounge and glanced angrily in his direction.
To you as well, you abomination to the Light. Jon thought to himself bitterly. But his anger soon faded as he felt the warmth of the fire spread throughout his limbs, returning feeling. It was painful at first, but gradually the pain and the stiffness subsided together and only the heat remained. He took the opportunity to remove his cloak, soaked through with melted snow, and lay it on the ground near the fire so it might dry faster. Leaning back, he closed his eyes and just let the warmth wash over him for a moment.
He was a interesting man to look upon. He was still rather young no more than twenty, and his face was smooth and unbleshished aside from several days worth of facial hair and stubble. His dark black hair was still covered in droplets of water and the occasional snowflake that had made its way into his hood somehow. It was a rough tangle of uneven length, with portions poking out in some places, and although he occasionally attempted to mat it down with one hand, he seemed generally unconcerned with its appearance.
His clothing seemed equally uncared for. His cloak was ripped in some places, and there were pieces torn off. His shirt and pants were both of fine quality silk, but had obviously seen better days. Better years, even. His heavy leather boots contrasted the his silk clothing sharply, but they seemed to be in much better condition than the rest of his outfit.
He tuned out the sounds of the whole room as he closed his eyes, trying to calm himself and slow his heartrate. When he finally opened them again, the Night Elf who had been on his right had been replaced by a drunken dwarf rambling on about his adventures in the outlands. After the fifth time hearing about how the Dwarf had apparently slain Illidan wearing only a loincloth and using only a rock, Jon decided it was time to move. Besides, the fire, initially warm and conforting, had become uncomfortably hot. Remembering to grab his cloak as he rose, Jon slowly weaved his way through the center of the room towards the bar.
He took one of the few empty stools and waited for the barmaid to come over.
"I need a room for the night." he said with a smile.
"Ach, I dunnae how we're gunna git all these people their own rooms." the dwarven lass said, matching his smile. "So many o' these adventurer types comin' through. We're a wee bit short on rooms."
Jon's smile faded. He knew that he wouldn't get far if he pressed on further in this blizzard.
"Ah, don't be so dour laddie." she said with a laugh. "We got a few more left, so long as ye got the gold for 'em."
He grinned in relief and handed her a few golds coins. She counted them quickly, then gave him a rusty iron key. He clasped it eagerly, then nodded politely to her. But she was already off, grabbing a tankard and bringing it over to a table of orcs.
He rose slowly, then made his way towards a table of his own. It'd be good to get a warm meal before he went to sleep. Besides, he felt safe now. There were a lot of people around, too many for any sort of foul play. Besides, he hadn't seen the troll in over three days. He'd probably lost the trail long ago, or at least been forced to stop by the blizzard.
But no matter how much he kept telling himself those things, it didn't change much. He still took a table in the corner, facing the door. He still ate with his hood up, his head down so that his face was obscured. And he still glanced fearfully at the door whenever something bumped loudly.
((Alright, so Jon is a human who's being chased by Damukag. I posted as him first because I think it'd be easier for new players to join in a crowded in rather than a forest in the middle of a blizzard (which is where Damukag is right now). I'll post as Damukag soon, but feel free to introduce your character beforehand. My first post as Damukag will get the plot rolling, I hope.))
The sun had already set by the time Jon saw the dark outline of the inn emerge from the howling curtain of snow that had encompassed everything further than a few feet in front of him. The sight of the building reinvigorated Jon and his legs, tired and nearly frozen stiff from wading through this snow, broke into something that could only be described as a rapid stumbling. When he reached the entrance he fell against it, almost falling to the ground as it opened inwards. Quickly shutting the heavy wooden door behind him, he let out a deep sigh and leaned against it heavily, surveying the room.
The room was packed full of both travellers seaking to escape the blizzard that had so suddenly descended and locals who were seaking meals, drinks, and maybe some company as well. A single large fireplace was built against the far wall with a small area cleared around it for people to sit by, and to his right was a rather populated bar counter. To the left were tables with a variety of customers from both the Horde and Alliance. In the corner was a staircase leading upstairs. The fireplace and many torches provided light now that the sun had set.
A few people had looked up from their evening meals to see who had come in, but evidently such an entrance was not uncommon, and most had gone back to their own business immediately after seeing the newcomer was only a young, scrawny human boy. Jon waited another minute before he moved again, making a beeline for the fireplace. It was crowded, naturally, but he managed to find a small place to sit between a regal looking Night Elf and an undead creature that was missing several fingers and toes. The elf moved aside politely to provide more room, but the Forsaken merely muttered something in a strange tounge and glanced angrily in his direction.
To you as well, you abomination to the Light. Jon thought to himself bitterly. But his anger soon faded as he felt the warmth of the fire spread throughout his limbs, returning feeling. It was painful at first, but gradually the pain and the stiffness subsided together and only the heat remained. He took the opportunity to remove his cloak, soaked through with melted snow, and lay it on the ground near the fire so it might dry faster. Leaning back, he closed his eyes and just let the warmth wash over him for a moment.
He was a interesting man to look upon. He was still rather young no more than twenty, and his face was smooth and unbleshished aside from several days worth of facial hair and stubble. His dark black hair was still covered in droplets of water and the occasional snowflake that had made its way into his hood somehow. It was a rough tangle of uneven length, with portions poking out in some places, and although he occasionally attempted to mat it down with one hand, he seemed generally unconcerned with its appearance.
His clothing seemed equally uncared for. His cloak was ripped in some places, and there were pieces torn off. His shirt and pants were both of fine quality silk, but had obviously seen better days. Better years, even. His heavy leather boots contrasted the his silk clothing sharply, but they seemed to be in much better condition than the rest of his outfit.
He tuned out the sounds of the whole room as he closed his eyes, trying to calm himself and slow his heartrate. When he finally opened them again, the Night Elf who had been on his right had been replaced by a drunken dwarf rambling on about his adventures in the outlands. After the fifth time hearing about how the Dwarf had apparently slain Illidan wearing only a loincloth and using only a rock, Jon decided it was time to move. Besides, the fire, initially warm and conforting, had become uncomfortably hot. Remembering to grab his cloak as he rose, Jon slowly weaved his way through the center of the room towards the bar.
He took one of the few empty stools and waited for the barmaid to come over.
"I need a room for the night." he said with a smile.
"Ach, I dunnae how we're gunna git all these people their own rooms." the dwarven lass said, matching his smile. "So many o' these adventurer types comin' through. We're a wee bit short on rooms."
Jon's smile faded. He knew that he wouldn't get far if he pressed on further in this blizzard.
"Ah, don't be so dour laddie." she said with a laugh. "We got a few more left, so long as ye got the gold for 'em."
He grinned in relief and handed her a few golds coins. She counted them quickly, then gave him a rusty iron key. He clasped it eagerly, then nodded politely to her. But she was already off, grabbing a tankard and bringing it over to a table of orcs.
He rose slowly, then made his way towards a table of his own. It'd be good to get a warm meal before he went to sleep. Besides, he felt safe now. There were a lot of people around, too many for any sort of foul play. Besides, he hadn't seen the troll in over three days. He'd probably lost the trail long ago, or at least been forced to stop by the blizzard.
But no matter how much he kept telling himself those things, it didn't change much. He still took a table in the corner, facing the door. He still ate with his hood up, his head down so that his face was obscured. And he still glanced fearfully at the door whenever something bumped loudly.
((Alright, so Jon is a human who's being chased by Damukag. I posted as him first because I think it'd be easier for new players to join in a crowded in rather than a forest in the middle of a blizzard (which is where Damukag is right now). I'll post as Damukag soon, but feel free to introduce your character beforehand. My first post as Damukag will get the plot rolling, I hope.))