A rather gaudily dressed halfling is the first of the procession of new arrivals to be escorted to the table. He bows low then looks up at the three strangers with open curiosity, and a huge smile.

"Barleyborough Very Special Old Pale Ale, thanks!" he instructs one of the servants before turning to the three strangers.

"Greetings, fellow participants in whatever incomprehensible mission the Gods have decided next needs the attention of our collective talents! Have you done this before? I rather hoped that my recent weekly display of devotion at Olidammara's temple in Greyhawk might have earned me a reprieve, but obviously not. Duty calls, apparently. Have you been told what the next mission is yet? Do I really want to know? Oh, yes, I nearly forgot. You can call me Brindle. I do magic, and when that's not enough I tend to talk, a lot."

Wrukaog lets out a long, sustained burp at the end of Brindle's monologue-esque introduction, then slams his wooden mug down on the table and extends his hand that's not covered in a bladed gauntlet.

"Wrukaog."

He pulls his lips back from over his teeth and gives an orcish smile.

Leisha steps through the doorway in a robin's egg blue nightgown with white lace trim.  Her eyes are almost half closed even as she steps in, and she takes two sort of slow, dreamy steps into the Inn before she stops, really opens her eyes, and looks around.  She reaches out and pokes the most enthusiastic of the servants in the shoulder, and then sighs, entirely too awake.

"I suppose it's not your fault," she grumbles.  She pauses, eyeing the servant thoughtfully.  "Is it?" she asks, pointedly.

Taking a seat, Aurion glances at the others, but shows little interest in the human or the halfling, and sparing only a slight derisive glance for the Orc before ordering a fine, ancient vintage of rare emerald-flavored elven wine, and a plate of exquisite rare vegetables with a series of dipping sauces varying from mundane to bizarre.

Tall and thin, Aurion has green eyes and coppery colored hair. His comrades might note that he has it trimmed a bit shorter than previously.
He wears a scholarly outfit of blues and golds, and a violet colored cape, the hood back over shoulders. Today he wears numerous bangles of copper and gold around his wrists, and his ears are bejeweled, half a dozen or so piercings in each earlobe.
He also wears a golden sun pendant, common among the elves who worship the sun, though nothing about him speaks of the priestly cast many of his fellows fall into. No, Aurion has a sharper edge to him, a sardonic twinkle in his eye, and clearly secular flavor to his dress.
His face and body is heavily tattoo with arcane looking markings, several of which are clearly new to those familiar with the gleam of ointment used to protect fresh ink.
A careful eye might note that two of the supposed tattoos on his wrists are small, sparkling green vipers, each tightly wrapped, though their tongues dance out to explore the new area.


"Glad I was headed out, and not into the bathing area when the gods called. So embarassing to show up here naked."

he first addresses Leisha and Brindle, asking after their free time, families if he knows of any, etc. Once his order arrives he smiles to the newcomers.

"Welcome brave adventurers, to the stereo-trope known as the World Serpent Inn, and the life of a pawn in the games of the gods. My name is Aurion Moonbeak," he holds up his glass in a toast, and takes a sip before sampling a rainbow colored rutabaga slice dipped in something which appears to be a mix of blood and honey. "Sadly I forget how many of us started on our previous venture, but we are the lucky few who survived.
"Would you care to hear of the adventure? It was quite the entertaining tale, though not nearly as entertaining to live thru..."

"Oh, yes please Aurion. Do tell us the tale as you saw it. I am curious to know what you made of it. I wouldn't be at all surprised if your perspective was a bit different than mine," Brindle responds, looking up at the elf.

He climbs up onto a tall stool at the end of the table to help reduce their difference in height. Then he looks at the three strangers a bit more closely.

"It is wonderful to see another halfling in the team. So where are you from, my friend? I don't suppose you would have family in Elmshire, would you? Up north of Greyhawk where the Selintan empties into the Nyr Dyv? That's where I grew up."

He glances at the noble-looking human and smiles.

"Pleased to be working with you too, sir. Are you a knight, by any chance? Which world do you hail from?"

He finishes with the orc and nods and smiles at him too.

"And you too, Master Orc. I must say I've never actually worked with an orc before, although our last mission certainly offered plenty of preparation for this meeting, didn't it Aurion? How do you say your name again? Wuh-roo-kay-ogg, is it? Does it mean anything in particular in the orcish language? I thought I had a fair grasp of that language but I'm afraid I don't recognise it."

Cogwitz easily followed along while Brindle talked as he did.  Brindle was a Thistlefoot, Cogwitz had many times encountered and accompanied a Thistlefoot.  Being a Strongheart himself, he was of a whole other breed of halfling, one much tougher than the Thistlefoot halflings.

Cogwitz smiled as Brindle ordered Barleyborough Very Special Old Pale Ale, good choice in drink Brindle, very tasty I must say.  He looked to the servant and put up two fingers after the order.

Aurion Moonbeak, I think I have heard of you in my adventures.  My name is Cogwitz, and I certainly would like to hear about your adventures indeed.

Another sip of wine and a crunchy bite of a vegetable that appeared to be a cross between seaweed and cauliflower (one might hope it was cauliflower, though it did bear a disgusting resemblance to brains) dipped in a reddish green sauce with glittery bits in it, and Aurion shared his perspective of things recently passed...

"The Gods, in all their wisdom," he began, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice," tend to send us out on missions to deal with various evils, often undead, though not always to the same multiverse, if you are familiar with that concept.
"For reasons known only to the gods, our last quest was begun based on the prayers of a goblin cleric who feared for his people's place in the city of... Scrape was it?
"An apt name, for a town that seemed more like something to scrape off the bottom of your shoe than live in.
"Lived in it was though, ruled over by four Pirate-Kings and a dragon, all as foul as Hades and crooked as the trees of Sandistrator, known both for their warped shape and inexplicable ability to pick pockets.
"Our original plan was to try and convince the kings to fight each other, but it ended up easier to simply sneak around and kill them each by ourselves. It was our luck that each king had more than he could handle of traitors in his midst.
"The king of the goblins turned out not even to be a goblin, but a shape-shifter of sorts from the Fires of Peridition, a Bar-Guest," he offered with a chuckle, "in simple terms, sort of a demon.
"The king of the Orcs was equally disliked among his own kind. We joined the forces already working on toppling him and gave them a hand.
"Brindle there, he was the key to much of our success, his agile tongue planting wyrms in all the right ears. He's helpful that way.
"At that point things got a bit hazy, what with the fcity being on fire, and wandering thru the sewers, but we managed to topple the other kings, which seemed enough to fulfill our quest, or perhaps it was the death of the dirty little goblin priest who summoned us, as the dragon was still alive and spewing acid all about the place when we were separated from that particular service and returned to our homes.
"We lost quite a few people there, but then again it seems we always do."

Taking another sip of his wine, the elven mage sat back in his chair to see what Brindle might have to add.

Tesseryn glances at Cogwitz, puzzled, when it becomes apparent that Aurion Moonbeak is a him, not a her.  He stands to meet the newcomers.  "Tesseryn Brightsoul," he announces in reply to Brindle Thistlefoot, "The Arm of Dauros the Law Keeper.  I am from the Kingdom of Ardania, a paladin in the service of king Toaster789."  To Aurion Moonbeak he adds  "I have not been here before.  Do continue with your tale."  Halflings appear to be jovial race, and abundant in this World Serpant Inn.  Apparently Moonbeak is an elf, although this is barely recognizable beneath the tattoos and other adornments, so Tesseryn decides to give him the benefit of the doubt, for now.  He resumes his seat, his buttered bread and butterbeer while he listens to the tale.

"You left the dragon alive?" Teseryn asks, leaning forward in his seat.  "And what of the other two pirate kings?"

Brindle nearly chokes on his ale, or he would have if he had one yet. Is that statue frightening the staff away again?

"Left the dragon alive? We barely escaped the dragon alive! Vesicant is huge - a mean, green, frightening machine! Well, not a machine, obviously, but trust me, she was far more than we ever had any hope of defeating. Practically immune to my spells, for a start! We did slay all four of the evil kings of Scrape and set things up so the goblin quarter is far better off than they were under the four kings' rule. That was the crux or our mission, you see? But that idiotic little goblin priest, Yurtz, kept insisting we had to slay the dragon as well! I would have loved to wring his scrawny little neck but, of course, the Gods don't let us harm the 'innocent' so that wasn't an option. I didn't intend for us to face the dragon straight after defeating the last two kings but that choice was never ours to make. I really hoped I might be able to persuade her to fly away south with me to search for rich treasure in the pyramid tombs rumoured in the jungles to the south - and I'd have gone with her, too, until she was far away and I could jump off and use my magic to escape. But no, she wouldn't be persuaded and Yurtz kept stirring everything up until he finally got what was coming to him - straight from the dragon's mouth! Even the Gods must have seen the justice in that, 'cause we were whisked away to safety in the nick of time! And I'll gladly drink a toast to Olidammara every time I remember that, 'cause I truly believe he answered my prayers down there!."

After that emotional outpouring Brindle sits back and finally realises that the orc's outstretched hand is not a threat and his bared teeth represent a welcoming smile rather than a mark of anger.

He belatedly leans forward to shake Wrukaog's hand.

Somewhere in the beginning minutes of the minutes upon minutes of dialogue, Wrukaog, apparently having lost all interest, stands up from the table and begins to walk off into the crowd.

After getting in the orders for food and drink, as well as some comments on the mysterious ways of the gods that might not be altogether wise in this particular Inn, where a god might quite easily be standing right beside you, the newcomers settle down to entertain those who had been awaiting them, encouraged by Cogwitz and Tesseryn, much to Wrukaog's disgust.

Brindle's Barleyborough Very Special Old Pale Ale arrives in a locked chest and the senior servant carefully takes the bottle from the padded and velvet lined interior, and cracks the cap with a silvered churchkey, pouring it reverently into the traditionally battered old tankard before throwing the empty bottle over his shoulder.  The distant smash of glass and roars of anger complete the ritual.

Similarly Aurion's extensive order of dishes and side-dishes arrives but a few heartbeats after he takes his place, brought hither on a trio of trolleys, covered with spotless white cloths, and accompanied by another half dozen servants, taking the total clustered around your table well into double figures.  The silver dishes are transferred one by one to the table with theatrical pomp and ceremony and arrayed around the Elf.

But thankfully neither Brindle nor Aurion are kept from either ale or many-coursed meal by the tales they have to tell, though Leisha is a little more reserved, preferring to keep her words few and to the point as she grumbles to the servant.  Indeed, it is more than obvious that the three have not only been here before, but are welcome guests ... if the service that Cogwitz, Tesseryn and Wrukaog received was attentive, then that afforded the newcomers might best be described as obsequious.

Overwhelmed, the Orc rises to his feet, looking around the Inn, before striding off.  Three of the servants fall in behind him, though admittedly none seem keen with their allotted task. 

"Not I at all, my most gracious lady," the senior servant assures Leisha, "but we at the Inn will always have a special place for those so favoured."

"Eat up !  Drink !" he exhorts you all, an old hand at this.  "Undoubtedly the gods will soon reveal their purpose !"

"That is well, that you defeated all four evil kings."  Tesseryn nods in approval at this news from Brindle.  He presses on endeavouring to understand the situation further.  "The gods called you together to aid goblins.  Was this the work of the goblin god Grum-Gog?  And have you now been brought together again by the same god, this time with greater numbers, to finish what you have begun?  Are we to slay this dragon, Vessicant?"

Between the crowding servants Tesseryn glimpses Wrukaog's back as he walks from the table.  "Not one of your goblins then?  An Orc I heard him called."  He adds this new race to his list of unworthy types.

"He was apparently a priest of the goblin god Khurgorbaeyag, and apt god for pirates as he is particularly cruel. As to the dragon, it seems unlikely that we would be sent back to the same world Master Brightsoul, but we do serve at the whim of the gods, all of the gods it seems, not simply the gods of the goblins. In fact, our tasks are usually more clearly placed on the great wheel of alignments, this was the furthest from fighting pure evil that we have been asked to stray."

The elven mage reached for more slices of vegetable, his tray now nearing empty. Catching the eye of a server, Aurion requested a platter of fruit.

"Don't get me wrong, I am as omnivorous as a bear, but I am currently cleansing for a ritual I hope to cast before we are summoned away for our next mission, fingers crossed."

Dipping his finger in one of the sauces, he allowed first one than the other of his pets to lick the flavor off his finger.

"We have been thru quite a lot in our efforts to complete our quests, but if you survive, I hope you will find it all quite rewarding..."

Tesseryn listens intently as the elf's explanation fills in many of the gaps.  "My sword is pledged to the service of Dauros.  I shall not stray from fighting evil, Moonbeak."  His words are resolute, yet he lowers his gaze then glances momentarily at Cogwitz.  "Whatever opportunity is given me, I shall not fail."

"Glad to hear it, servant of Dauros, someone like me is always happier with someone like you there to offer assistance.
"Tell me of this Dauros, I am not familiar with the name. A god of Justice and Champions, I have no doubt..."

The orc makes use of the latrine.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:52, Sat 10 Oct 2015.

When Wrukaog leaves the table Brindle takes the opportunity for a confidential word to the rest of them.

"Look, don't mention it to our new orcish friend but two of the evil kings we killed in Scrape were actually orcs, too. But don't worry about him being an orc, as one of the rules that the Gods impose on us is that we cannot attack each other or any innocents, so we should be perfectly safe with him. I must admit, actually, he does seem quite civilised for an orc."

Tesseryn nods solemnly to confirm Aurion's astute assessment. "The law of Dauros is above all others."

"Hmmm... potent," Aurion said, "yet vague. I would hate to tread upon your toes by breaking his law, no clues or hints? Does he have a favorite color perhaps?"

Aurion seemed quite serious in his query, knowledge was a passion, even if the target of his curiosity could change from day to day.

For example, he knew an amazing amount about the sex lives of Lavirian Roses...

While the needs of those new to the Inn require careful and, at times, lengthy interrogation, the tastes of old customers are well known, and Aurion's request for a fruit platter is met, not with an exhaustive listing of every type of fruit imaginable and some unheard of, but with a polite smile, an incline of the head and a snap of the fingers to summon them hence.

As the discussion descends to what sounds dangerously like agreement on the never-ending (or is that 'nerves-rending') search for justice and so forth, Wrukaog returns, stepping out of a nearby door. 

A new arrival is heralded by the staccato beat of his shoes as he approaches, no mean feat given the ambient noise of the Inn.  A thin fellow, with wisps of hair atop his egg-like head, and of middling height, dressed much in the manner of the Inn's servants, yet he lacks their obsequious nature.  He glances around the table, head bobbing as if making a tally, eyes flicking back to the book he holds open.

The servants eye him warily.

"All here then," he nods with some satisfaction, snapping his book shut, eyes shining, though his tone remains steady.  "Are you ready to do your duty as loyal servants of the gods ?"

For some reason his lip quirks at this last ...

The orc mumbles to himself, his patience tempered by a few mugs of ale.

He retrieves his dagger from the table and remains standing to wait for whatever it is that is going to happen.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:40, Sun 11 Oct 2015.

"Do not seek to mock, elf.  Thrust together we may be by the will of the gods," his glance acknowledges Brindle as the source of this truth, "But the experience need not be unpleasant if we all allow ourselves to be guided by what is just."

When the official announces the imminent revelation of their fate, Tesseryn kneels to offer a prayer "Dauros, reveal my destiny."

Brindle smiles cheerfully at the newly arrived official. He murmurs something back to Wruakog, [Language unknown: "Hoast enure!"]

He finishes his tankard of Barleyborough VSOP Ale and sets it carefully on the table. Then he pulls a folded sheet of parchment out of his belt pouch. He holds it up and says, "Ah, good, someone in authority at last. I would like to lodge an application for annual leave, please. A one year vacation from all duties, starting immediately. That won't be a problem, will it?"
This message was last edited by the player at 15:10, Sun 11 Oct 2015.