The Black Ox Tavern is a lonely establishment, sitting far from anywhere of any significance or civilization. It sits in the middle of a mountain pass at the end of the empire's northern road, just before the wild creeps in closer to the paths and trails that connect the barbaric tundra to the civilized world. The tavern is a roughly square building, the bottom floor is a partially ruined stone structure, possibly an ancient shrine or monastery, with wooden construction filling in the ruin and a solid second floor. A small stable sits of to the side, with a few horses resting in the stalls.

Inside the inn are several sets of tables and chairs of rough construction and repeated repairs. Along the back wall is a bar with a mismatched set of stools along the front. A hearth blazes in one corner, a stewpot wafts the tempting scent of dinner, readily available to travelers for a few copper coins. Behind the bar is the grizzled old man who owns the Black Ox, he handles pouring the drinks and setting the wealthier travelers up with a bunk in one of the upstairs rooms. His two employees rotate between keeping the place clean and fetching orders of food and drink for the larger than usual crowd.

Besides you guys there are a few other travelers staying the night. You can place yourself anywhere in the inn that you wish or even roleplay your entrance in you like. Feel free to interact with each other, the NPC's, or ignore everyone from a corner as you please. Once we've got sheets and backgrounds finalized I'll kick things off. :)

Sitting at one of the tables is an attractive looking young man with remarkably bright green eyes. Twin horns rising from his head and a long tail mark him as an Eldhud. It is plain that he has not been at the inn long, as he is still wearing most of his armor and road dust can clearly be seen on it. With just his helmet set aside, he is enjoying a hot meal and trading stories with the other patrons. He has an easy laugh that resounds through the room.

Leaning up against the wall next to him is a dueling halberd. It is not just an ordinary weapon though. Even at a distance it is clear this is something special. Made of orichalcum on the haft, the golden-colored metal gleams in the light of the inn. The head of the weapon stands out beyond that, as it appears to be made of congealed sunlight. Depicted all over it are symbols and scenes of the Allfather. The man keeps a close eye on his weapon, but still maintains a cheerful conversation and is happily explaining, "The Allfather himself sent me this weapon. Now I just have to prove myself worthy of such a gift. I hope to see many undead laid to rest by this blade."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:05, Wed 24 Oct 2018.

A dwarf stumbled up to the table carrying two pints of ale. He had a head of frizzy grey hair, and his beard was equally curly. On his face were lightning tattoos marking him as a cleric of Thor. He was also clearly drunk. "Walh this ish ah prehty weapon, an may it kill lots 'o tings what should be dead again. Ah'll drank tah that laddie."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:35, Tue 02 Oct 2018.

Brandaelfr smiles at the dwarf's words and raises his mug in a toast. "A cleric of the Mighty Thunderer, eh? Be welcome here, friend! Please sit and enjoy some good stories. I myself am a warrior of the Allfather, and I have no doubt we could together kill many undead!"

There was a Half-Ogre sitting by himself, at one of the tables near the hearth in the corner. He wore furs and leathers and had a handful of daggers strapped to his chest. He sat back in the cushioned chair, nursing a flagon of mead while looking into the hearth. His eyes occasionally scanned the room, as if he were looking for someone or something. Across the table from him, in front of another cushioned chair, a full tankard of ale sat untouched.

[Private to GM: 06:32, Today: Secret Roll: Drakul rolled 6 using 3d6.  Traps 14.
     Per-4 to notice hot plate under cushion.
     DX if they sit down. Failure:Take 1 HP injury.
     Per (Smell) to notice chili powder in the ale.
     HT if they drink the ale. Failure: Coughing/Sneezing for 1d sec.]

The door to the inn slowly opens as a hooded figure walks through. It’s head moves back and forth, scanning the room. It walks over to the empty chair across from the Half-Ogre and removes its hood. Long flowing hair as green as the forest tops cascades out. She pulls her hair to one side revealing her pointed ears.She grabs the untouched tankard and takes a rather large gulp. The look of disgust fills her whole face as she sets the mug down. “Mmm, that hits the spot, nothin like a tall mug of mead after a long day of killin stuff, right” she says to the Half-Ogre. “The names Fegurth, but the guys call me Faye. What’s your na...”
This message was last edited by the player at 23:57, Mon 01 Oct 2018.

Not long after the elf enters, the doors crash in again and a giant half orc walks in with a large great axe peeking up over his shoulder. He walks over to the bar and orders the largest mead available, and then requests a second before sitting down at the bar close enough to hear the group around the expensive weapon, but far enough to not have to socialize himself.

Ferurth sucks down a huge gulp of the ale before the taste of the chili powder sets in, it causes her to choke and cough for a few seconds and the spices linger on her tongue after. Now that she's paying attention the smell is quite obvious, only her hastiness caused her to fall victim to the trick.

As she’s desperately rubbing the spice off her tongue, “haha you got me, that was a good one. Should’ve seen that coming, the old pepper in the drink trick. That was Hnerra’s go to. Guess my eyes are better than my nose”, she chuckles.

"Oh dear! Are you okay?" said the Half-Ogre, standing up and beginning to pale. "I am so sorry! That little prank was intended for a friend of mine... I... I don’t know what to say. I’m so embarrassed. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable?"

He indicated the chair across from him.

"I’ll see about getting you a fresh, cold ale."

He paused a few steps away.

"One without chili powder this time!"

She smiles at Drakul, pretending her tongue isn’t burning, “no apology needed, my brothers would pull tricks like this on me all the time.” She takes her backpack off and sets it at her feet.