"I come from a land called Talvaron. It is in a plane of existence far from here and yours." He downs the rest of his drink and let's out a satisfied sigh. "What about you?"

"Umm, Earth, 2014 Anni Domini."

Jethro ate some more of his chicken and looked at the man a little confused. The singer felt really comfortable with the idea of many planes of existence and realities. He even had suspicions that many of the fantasy and sci-fi books, games and such that he enjoyed all his life came from those that had seen those worlds through dreams or actual travel.  Still, It doesn't seem that this man is one for a round with a table top game.

"So what is it like in your home world?"

"It is a dismal place. Filled with scorched lands and drying seas. War and death are the norm. The tyranical king Efresk rules Talvaron. Before he ruled Talvaron was a beautiful place. The lands were full of life and the seas were vast. I miss how my world used to be. I feel ashamed to call it my homeworld." Baal stops talking for a few seconds. His sadness is evident. A single tear drops from his lowered head. He looks back up to the young singer with the same face he had before. "I am sorry. I must be boring you to death." He lets out a forced chuckle.

Jethro looks around for a sec, a little put off. "No you aren't boring me. But I must ask, if he was such a tyrant, why not remove him from power? You must not be the only one who felt he was a terror."

"We tried once. But he had some strange powers. He was nearly invincible. He had many injuries that should have killed him but he still lived. I was one of the people that tried to kill him. I was one of his bodyguards. I caught him while he was sleeping. I stabbed him many many times before he threw me off him. Because of that I was thrown in the dungeons and sentanced to death. A few days later I escaped and heard of this place from a traveler. I searched for it for many years then finally found it"

"There are ways to deal with people that are near impossible to hurt.  It usually involves magic or a dog pile.  If you can't kill someone, imprisonment can usually work."

Parker smiles, a piece of of the fowl still in his hand.

"I usually just make it look like an accident of sorts. . . "

Jethro covered his mouth realizing what he just said. Then he realized that there was no one around from his world and time that would care.

"Anyway, the chicken here is really good if you are hungry."

"When facing an opponent that is difficult to hurt or that I don't want to kill, I make them run around in circles and chase illusions.  I once saw a powerful evil wizard who was taken down by 4 peasants.  They jumped on him and stuffed an old sock in his mouth.  Any opponent can be taken down... you just need to figure out how to do it."

"Like causing a powerline to swing down and hit the bastard," he comments with a small smile.  "Where there is a will there is a way. Tyrants deserve to fall, and one who takes advantage of the ones below him should be taken down by the ones that he oppresses. I'm sure someone will stop the monster soon."

Baal sighs "I would love for it to happen. The only problem is that he darn near owns the whole world. He is so powerful now, if he felt like it, he could kill everyone and everything on my planet without standing up." All of a sudden Baal gets a crazed look in his eye. "If I was was strong enough I would have killed the bastard! I could have put end to it all! AHHHH!" He slams his cup on the table. He stops yelling and slamming things, He just sits there breathing heavily. After a few moments he realizes what he did. He looks around at the people in the tavern with their different emotions displayed on their faces. He stands up. "Excuse me" He says as he walk out to the front porch.

To > the front porch

Parker looks at the young bard who seems to have a talent for killing people.  Looking at the door the old man just stormed through, he makes the age old hand gesture to symbolize insanity, the index finger moving in a circle around his ear.

"The affects that long term stress can have on the mind is sad."

The singer watched the fragile man leave. "Yeah, its amazing how much it can take though.  I'm surprised that he is still talking."

He looked back over to Parker a little distraught. "I was trying to make him feel better, but I guess I fucked up. I find it amazing, though. First the tin man, now him. How do these tyrants hold their power? You would think that discourse would cause the monarchies to fall, or at least weaken.  They can only have as much power as the people give them, why would the people give them so much?"

Ball steps through the door. He tries not to look around at the people. He sits down at a table in the back of the room by himself. He sounds like he is mumbling to himself.

Watching the old man come back in and take a seat in the back, Parker shakes his head.

"HEY... OLD GUY.  If you want to join us, you are welcome to."

Jethro finished his cigarette and started rolling another one with a pouch tobacco from his jacket.  "I think he needs to gather himself a bit," he said to the kobold.

With a flick of his lighter he lit the cigarette and took a full drag.
"I'm a little worried about the kid, Scott and that Wilford. The others looked like they knew what they were doing but the others looked a little green. With those gunslingers and sword bearers I hope they don't get in a fight or something getting them caught in the middle. I do have to say though,"  he said as he leaned back in the chair. "I'm a little jealous. I am a little curious as to how far down the rabbit hole goes."


The singer took out the pouch of tobacco again and rolled another cigarette and offered it to the dragonborn.

The old mam looks at the dragonborn. "Leave me be for a little while. I need to calm down." He pulls a rag out of the hide covering him. He lays his head back and covers his eyes with the rag.

Shrugging at the old man, Parker looks back at the bard.

"I see no need to go gallivanting about other worlds in search of adventure, seeking out wrongs that need righting.  There are enough travesties in my own world that I could spend the rest of my life trying to fix them and hardly make a dent.  As the matron always said, 'clean up your own cave before you start on some one else's'."

"Your matron is quite wise it seems. I have no intention of righting any wrongs in anyone's world.  Hell, I have my own problems at home. It's just that I've just immersed myself in books and stories that seem to show things that most think impossible. To see it first hand would be quite a sight." He smiles at the thought.
"But I guess I'm experiencing what billions never will just talking to you and sitting here. No point in getting greedy, I guess."

Loud snoring can be heard from the back of the tavern.

Glancing over at the old man, Parker shakes his head.

"She was talking about going about cleaning up the messes.  There was nothing said about going a visiting other caves while yours is still a mess.  I say feel free to go visit, but don't get your self killed trying to fix some one else's problems when you still have some of your own."

<<From Porch.>>

A Halfling male slowly entered the tavern, just under four feet tall. He is dressed in an open scale vest, a scale loin cloth and various painted markings. The most distinctive marking (besides the bright flame like pattern painted on both cheeks) is a triangular brand on his forehead with a single dot in the middle. He wears a belt with many small pouches and his odd curved green blade hanging on the left. In his right hand he carries a spear two feet taller than him with two yellow feathers a foot long hanging just under a leather thong that covered the spear-head itself.

The roman sandals he wore made little sound under his light weight body as he continued into the tavern. He knew this place was magic, he sensed it in his soul. He knew when he entered the fog floating above the swamp he would wind up somewhere quite different than the village he sought. Some of the creatures around him seemed familiar, the kobold for one, but the rest were extremely odd. His face carried an expression of awe as he moved forward, using his spear as a walking stick. To those not paying attention this meant little, but to those who paid attention it was obvious he had trouble walking.

He kept moving until he reached the bar and gave a bow to the bartender. He turned around and shot his left hand straight into the air, only his middle and index finger were unfolded. Well met travelers. May the gods bless our rest here. While his voice carried the excitement of seeing such odd sights, it was plain this was a standard almost automatic greeting.

He then took his left hand fished out a handful of golden trinkets melted to look like the teeth of some predator. He made his way over to the bar and stretched to place them up. Do you carry blood whiskey? If not, blood wine or any kind of whiskey would do favored hearth keeper.

As he waited for his drink he stole several glances to the kobold. He did not dress like those he knew, and even they were new additions to where he came from. His looks bore no malice, but carried the innocent curiosity of a small child.

To those who knew such things, he carried with him a peculiar musk. He smelled of strong herbs, the stagnancy of the swamp and a hint of exotic dung.

((OOC: Due to the intricate nature of his appearance, the details are left in his description. This is just the fast and dirty description.))
This message was last edited by the player at 22:30, Sat 18 Apr 2009.

Jethro tipped his hat at the small man that walked in to the tavern. Interesting greeting, but much better than 'Glory to the Emperor' so he smiled. He was tattooed heavy and each one seemed important, but he lived in down town Manhattan for a few years, he was relatively tame looking compared to some people he saw in the village.  Still looked like the guy had a bit of furry in his small frame.

"Welcome, names Jethro Caso. And you are?"

I am Obiohoe of the Stone Claw Tribe, proud people of Harrow. He paused a second, shifting his weight onto his spear in a slight lean. Your skins are fascinating Good Man Caso. What predator did you stalk to find them? He smiled large. Must be a good story. He then placed his left hand on his spear shaft as well, looking around trying to figure out an easy way to take a seat.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:35, Sat 18 Apr 2009.

Jethro laughed and couldn't help but make a joke "I stalked a Barney's." He chuckled but realized that no one else would get the joke. At least, no one else in the tavern right now at least.

"No Mr. Obiohoe, my clothing is made from cotton plants as well as silk and wool from sheep. Yours looks like its from Komodo dragon." With that he coughed a bit. "Umm, not a real dragon, Parker, umm about yea high," he gestures about 2 feet tall. "and quite long lizard."

Looking back over to the newcomer, especially at the clothing, "but I'm probably mistaken. It probably was something more fierce."

Parker looks at the bard, anger obvious on his face.

"A dragon of my height, you think I would find this funny?"

The last word comes out almost as a shout.  The snarl disappears and is quickly replaced by a smile.

"Actually I do find it kind of funny.  I took this from an evil dragon ancestor of mine."

Parker pulls out a dagger made from a large claw.  It is all tinged red and is warm to the touch.