Tavern of the Spirit Mist

<i>Through a clearing in the cool evergreen forest rises a two story building as dark, regardless of hour, as the night itself. The winds sing in this rocky little clearing, that was built on a high hilltop, and the folks in the Tavern and within the village a short distance from it, whisper of angry spirits guarding the very lands beneath. These lands are cursed, legends say, but who is willing to prove the legends false?

As you approach the darkened door you see the possible reasons as to why, this mysterious meeting place is so shaded. A wood of an odd sort makes the whole of the appearance, a wood that is coated with a material similar to a tar or black clay. On either side of the Iron bound door two intimidating dragons seem to watch you with glittering red jemmed eyes, their wings and legs seemingly ready to pounce. Reaching for the handle to let yourself inside, the door pulls open suprisingly easily and you are met by comforting music and laughter from within. The wonderful smell of a fine cooking meal wafts into your nostrils and the crackle of the cozy fire leads you in.

Across a counter a middle aged short round man stops as each visitor enters and delivers a welcoming smile, his rosy cheeks half hidden by his shaggy thin light brown hair. His weary expression clearly states his hours in the tavern and the smile seems to be a forced one

A few folks from nearby tables glance your way as the door creaks and closes behind you, but most return back to speaking and laughing amonst themselves <i>

This story will lead to the discoveries of the mysteries behind the village and tavern. Eventually there will be two posts, this one, where you will find aliies and information, and another that will include the town and surrounding areas. Remember to keep to a medieval type setting.

Races allowed without approval: Human
If you wish to play another race, please seek my approval via private message. Thanks.

Angry yelling breaks out at the table nearest you and a large meaty fist slams into the table. A HUGE filthy man covered in dark hair with broken yellow teeth bellows,
"I will not stand for THIS, you will pay Kaetevlo. We had a DEAL!!... ,"
he nervously glances around, but seemingly not at anyone in particular. His eyes lowered and glared at the man named Kaetevlo, and hissed angrily in a lowered tone, "..... Just..... not right.. now.....". With that he storms out of the tavern nearly knocking you off your feet, door slamming heavily behind you.
The entire Tavern was in a dreaded silence for several moments after the Huge man left, all eyes staring in fear at the door. Slowly the conversation picked up once again, but it was thickened with uneased than previously with no laughter scattered throughout.
The man named Kaetevlo, an average looking man in almost every respect, shook his dirty blond hair irritably out of his eyes and glared across the table and spoke in a rough yet soft tone to a tall very depressed looking, yet attractive young man with long flowing dark hair. Barely made out by you are bits and fragments of his words, "... you think Taylnog ..... anything to do with...... hateful spirits haunting..... lands beneath the town.....?"
The good looking man shrugged slowly, obviously not looking as if he himself was in any mood to talk about things that would make him feel worse.
Softly with a sorrowful, almost enchanting accented voice he responded, "I don't know. All I know is that I don't like him. Something about him reminds me of..... never mind. I just... think that I've seen him before, and not in a good situation..... "
He sighed...
Looking up his gaze levels with yours and he nods in greeting, seeming to just realize that someone stood beside his table. His eyes light up a bit as he realizes that perhaps you might be hear listening to offer advice or a less ..... sour.. company.
"Hello, and good evening. Would you mind to have a seat? We are dealing with a bit of a problem, and we need others to help us figure the situation out...... who and what does it have to deal with?
Well, " He responds to a curious or confused expression as depressed as ever, "... it has to deal with the very safety, physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual safety of every traveller through these parts, as well as the residents themselves. I would prefer to say no more as loudly as I speak now, "Cautiously he looks across three sturdy oak tables, then returns his almost pleading gaze to you, "But if you would sit and join us, we most certainly can explain more.... " With a slight pause he added, " My name, by the way, is Aaruvio, I am a traveller to these parts although now I stay to aid those and what that need it." He gestures for you to sit and introduce yourself.

Tacius shrugged casually. He did not have any pressing business, and the snatches of conversation he overheard earlier on interested him.
""... it has to deal with the very safety, physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual safety of every traveller through these parts..."

Tacius raised his eyebrows. Taking up his mug, he took an empty seat as if he owned the place. "I'm Tacius, a mere traveller like you," the man with a slight scare above his left eyebrow said curtly. His wild brown hair, sticking like hay as most people described with frustration, was cut short to the base of his head; his eyes, a startling blue, seemed to be the only feature that gave his pale face some colour.

__________________
"Rich? More like mired in minutiae ..... In this case it was an indolence characterised by a pursuit of knowledge, a frenzied search for answers to everything, no matter the value of such answers. A civilisation can as easily drown in what it knows as in what it doesn't know."

- Deadhouse Gates by Steven Erikson

The left corner of Aaruvio's lip curled ever so slightly in a subtle relaxation at the mention of Tacius being a traveller as well. Kaetevlo, too busy motioning for another ale, hardly noticed if he even did at all.
Aaruvio motioned to Tacius, "Would you like your mug refilled? It may be a long story, as their IS much to say... It eases me, however mild the ease, that another from distant lands would stay and aid in these difficult times."
His smile had faded since he had begun to speak and was replaced by a sorrowful gaze that spiralled to his very soul, and also a look of extreme determination that seemed almost fanatical.
Kaetevlo yawned hugely, and Tacius could see broken and missing teath located even in the very back of his mouth. Raising his newly refilled mug to his lips and leaning backwards in his chair he could hardly look terribly concerned...... at least outwardly.
He casually growled, "Did you see the huge man that had left shortly before you had gotten here?"
He paused long enough to loudly crack his knuckles and then continued, "He was a man dressed in rags coated in filth..... and a temperment to match."
He looked questioningly at Tacius, waiting for a response of recognition of the man that he spoke of while Aaruvio waved a very frustrated looking boy over to their table to refil Tacius's mug.

Tacius smiled easily, the description fitted the man to his boots, the one who had unceremonially knocked him off his feet when he entered the tavern.

Tacius held out his mug as the boy refilled it quickly, the man's eyes fixed upon Kaetevlo. "It's hard to miss a man of that description," he said lightly.

__________________
"Rich? More like mired in minutiae ..... In this case it was an indolence characterised by a pursuit of knowledge, a frenzied search for answers to everything, no matter the value of such answers. A civilisation can as easily drown in what it knows as in what it doesn't know."

- Deadhouse Gates by Steven Erikson

ouse walks in uncertin, he needs a place to rest and be refreshed but he is unsure if this is the right place for that.

ouse takes a chair at an empty two person table nearist to the door, he takes off his back pack, takes out a thick book and nervously looks around while attempting to get some reading done and rest his legs.

Averell Percilia walks in, in need of rest and a dinner. She approachs the bar and requests a meal. "A glass of water, some bread and potatoes too please." She then pays for her meal and finds a table near the back corner of the room.
Sitting down, she unpacks her paper, ink and quill and beggins working on her next song while she nibbles on her bread and potatoes. Being a bard, she loved to write music. She may have been gifted with the ability to play almost any instorment, but she wasn't nearly as good a writing songs.

yo

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Godzman