"Here, your blood wine."

I know of other people using plants for cloths, but yours seemed rough. I thought it the skin of a horned beast you painted blue.

At the mention of his own clothing he chuckled. A flying beast my size, we call them Lotus Drakes. Upon my back he made a thrashing. It is part of my peoples custom to claim the life of such beasts with just your wiles, naked and alone.

Our neighbors to the west use silks and stranger things, and keep hidden in them as you do. We are too proud to hide ourselves. He thumped his chest with his left hand. Plus, our women are very fine looking and keeping their bodies hidden is not an option for us. He followed this with a hearty and deep laugh.

He reached up to grab the glass, he greedily took a long and cherished swallow. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning from ear to ear. He gave a two finger wave to the barkeep as thanks.

There is a bit of a chill in the air at the pub, as a man in a large black cloak enters. His face is obscured by the thick robe and his very presence seems to send a few cats running away, yelping. He reeks of an undisclosed odor that I would rather not describe right now and he sways back and sways back and forth as if he is tired.

He moves up to the counter, and with one ghastly, boney finger, points to the barkeep, asking him "Do you have any cake?"

The 'bard' looked at the toothy knife and was fascinated by it.  An actual tooth to a fire breathing dragon.

Jethro just stared at the comment, 'naked and alone'. Sure there is pride in it, but . . . oh well. Different times, places and customs. The comment about hiding bodies, I guess that was true as anything, with people so uptight about modesty and fear of natural things. "I'm sure they are quite a sight for sore eyes. We mainly dress to show interests and status. Also its part of the culture and its is mainly considered informal in my where and when to be under dressed, at least for older people."

"This knife seems to be hot, as its distorting the air around it. Is it magical?"

We use our paint for status. That and the weapons we keep. I am treated differently than my brother who uses the musket. He nodded down to the stone "sword" hung low at his hip.

His interest flew back to the kobold. A dragon? The greatest of all predators. They had long left my homeland after we freed ourselves from their bonds. To hold such a weapon would give you access to many treasures in my land.

Jethro had to wonder where the cats that the robed man sent scurrying came from, for he didn't notice them before. Maybe he brought them with him for a dramatic entrance. He shrugged it off as he watched the ominous figure seem to threaten the barkeep. He almost fell out of his chair at the request for cake, though.  He couldn't help but call out, "That will spoil your appetite, try the chicken and save the cake for dessert."

He looks at the "man" totally nonplussed.

"Yeah... we got angel food and pound cake.  What is your preference?"

Baal wakes up quickly and almost falls out of his chair. "I felt an evil presence just now." He looks around and notices the new patrons who entered the tavern. "Hmm". He looks over at Jethro and Parker. "Hey friends" He says to them trying to get their attention. "Who are the new guys?"

Ignoring the old man for a minute Parker looks at the halfling,

"The old bastard had a whole bunch of claws, and a mouth full of teeth."

Parker reaches into his bag and pulls out two more daggers of identical make as well as a couple of others that seem to be made from saw edged teeth.

"If you wanted to trade for one, I would not object."

The halfling gave it some serious thought. My people always carey trinkets and items for barter, trading is important to us. I have maybe two items of similar value, and one I could never trade. He pats the "sword" on his hip. This is the Tormentor blade, handed down from lore keeper to lore keeper.

He hobbles over to the kobold, forgetting to use the spear as his walking stick. From one of the pouches he pulls out a gold ring with a yellow diamond in its center. This is a Dusk Tiger ring, or ring of escape. Once before dusk and after dawn, and before dawn and after dusk it can turn you invisible and increase your speed for a few minutes. I have only used it once and it saved my life. He held it out with an open palm. The rest of my items are mere trinkets.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:32, Sun 19 Apr 2009.

Johanna woke up with a headache and pain in her ribcage. Last thing she remembered she was attacking a German entrechment and....a grenade? She leaned up to the discomfort of her side to see blood coming from the wound. The grenade must have hi her with shrapnel. Up ahead she sees what looks like...a old tavern there is noise inside and talking.

"Germans must have thought me dead so they must have dragged me back here,  but why?" Grabbing her weapons she she quickly runs into the establishment "Hands up!" But as soon as the words left her mouth she saw the inhabitants. Creaturs small and tall, normal na weird were all around. She collapsed to the floor in her 1st faint.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:52, Sun 19 Apr 2009.

Jetrho got up out of the chair and walked over to the soldier.  He recognized the equipment immediately, the M1 Garand and fatigues screamed American soldier from WWII.  But he was taken aback realizing he was a she, something not allowed in the 40s Army that he knew of.  He disengaged the rifle, and carried her over to the booth where he set up his guitar.

 As she came too he greeted her,
"Good Morning. You can relax, there are no krauts here."

Parker got a vast amount of amusement out of these humans that were evidently from worlds where they were the only sentient race that they knew about.  He moves over to help the bard, picking up the woman's strange weapon.  Some what similar to the Space Marine's weapon, but different.  He carefully sets in onto the table, out of her easy reach but within sight and with the dangerous end pointed towards the wall.  He hops up on the table to see if there is something he can assist with... he has always had a bit of a weakness for women, even humans with all of their ugliness.

"Barkeep, could we get a glass of water over here quickly."

"Jethro, is she hurt?"

She awakens to hear a man ask her something then goes uncontiuos from bloodloss.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:41, Sun 19 Apr 2009.

The beingof uspeakable evil exclaims at the choice. "Ooh! The angel food sounds lovely. I'll have some of that and some tea" He asks, putting some coins on the table, a few soaked in blood.

He sits down at the counter, the wood on the chair creaking and glowing dark.

Seeing her bleeding, Parker reaches out and places a hand on the wound.  No word is spoken but two of the three gems flash for a second and the wounds the blood flow stops and the wound closes up.  With a shrug and a smile to the bard...

"What can I say... it's a gift."

Jethro pulled the cotton cloth he uses to clean his guitar from the bag and wipes away the blood on her forehead.

"Nah,just shaken up. This cut isn't deep. I think the stress and bleeding just took its toll on her."  He kept the compress on the cut, trying to keep her steady as she regained herself. "Umm, not to be rude Parker, but can you hop out of direct eyesight for a bit. She's probably going to be a little disoriented when she comes to. I think seeing your unusual face might cause her to faint once again." He takes his jacket off and uses it to prop her head up as he lays her down on the booth and keeps the cloth on the wound.

He placed his trinket up, and moved to face the frail woman. I have some pester root, smear it on any wound to help the clotting. I used to have a vial of penicillin to help with infections, but I traded it for a tambourine. The tambourine broke. He shook his head, it was a horrible trade, but he had to make it.

I have some Adium, an opiate, though. It is very popular among human women where I am from.

"I think we'll avoid the opium, if she has blood loss it might be a little too strong. I have a few pain pills that should help when she comes to if she needs them. The wound was fresh and clean when Parker sealed it, hold on to your penicillin for yourself. Thank you, though." He coaxed a few ounces of water down her throat.

"Barkeep! Can we get a glass of fruit juice, preferably orange?"

One of the tavern wenches is already on her way over to the table, bringing a glass of water.

"Here you are my sir."

"Thanks lass."

Parker picks up the glass of water with both hands and starts to drink it.

"Damn, I was thirsty after all that guinea fowl.  The wound is closed up and even the internal injury should be mostly healed up.  Personally I think it is the shock that she has never seen a Kobold before."

Having drained a good quarter of the glass, he throws the rest into her face.

"WAKE UP LASS!"

A long and heart laugh bellowed from the halfling at the antics of the kobold.
He looked to the now quenched dragon-ken. I think the water was meant for the lass. Then again, she never claimed it so I guess it was all fair game. He smiled and began walking over towards the lady, keeping his weight on his spear. I have something that could wake a sleeping dwarf from a week long drunk. He began fishing in one of his pouches and pulled out a small root. He tossed it to the man in the blue jeans. Scratch it with your fingernail.

The tavern wench comes back, with two glasses on her tray this time, one of clear water the other of a green fluid.

"Here is your water and fruit juice sir."

"That was hardly necessary," he said looking at Parker.

Dried off her face before scratching the root and putting it under her nose. Smelt like something he worked with in the lab a few times, but didn't remember the exact name for it.

"Rise and shine, Snow White," a fitting name for her, considering the stature of those around her.

She wakes up and inevitably sees the kobold and she rushes into the corner with a true look of fear and curls up. "WHAT MANNER OF MONSTER ARE YOU!!!"

Parker takes a few steps back from the woman.

"I am Parker, I am a member of a race of people known as Kobolds.  Currently you are not in your own world.  You are in the Wolf's Head Tavern, the Transdimensional Tavern.  I will not hurt you good lady."

Baal sat leaning back in his chair. He was watching the spectable from the back of the tavern. He laughed a little at the woman screaming at the dragon born. "There has been a lot of new people coming into the tavern" He thought to himself. He walked over to the woman. "Here". He says as he gives his hand out to the girl. "Take my hand young girl"
This message was last edited by the player at 01:49, Mon 20 Apr 2009.

She slwolt grabs the old mans hand noticing he has a rather strong grip and pulls herself up. "Where did my equiptment and my wound go?"

"I healed your wound girl.  Your weapon is here on the table."

Jumping off the table and onto the chair opposite the girl, Parker lets her see her weapon.

"I must warn you that this place is protected by powerful magic that prevents violence in here.  Please do not try and shoot anyone.  I only have a very limited amount of healing magic left."

She stalks over to her equiptment and puts it on. Shouldering her gun she steels her calm and raises her arm out "Im johanna and your name is...?"

Baal looks around. "This is a peaceful place. They probably put it away somewhere. I'm not sure"

Jethro puts back on his jacket and offers his hand to the soldier, "My name is Jethro Caso, Sergeant Major Johanna." taking notice of her ranking patch. "I took the clip out of the M1 and unchambered the round, so it won't do much anyway."

He offers her his glass of water.

"As Parker here mention, you are in a special tavern that is in a different world. Sort of like if Oz had a bar."

He bows his head. I am Obiohoe of the Stone Claw tribe, medicine man and lore keeper at your service. He smiled sheepishly, she wore the colors of his empire's greatest enemy. The weaponry was more sleek and advanced looking, but she could have joined ranks with the others and not drawn much attention.

I am sure your home has tales of places like this. Towns and buildings that come and go, sweeping people away for a short time or forever. As this place is not crowded I am sure we can all go back. He paused and cleared his throat. Can I get my stink root back good man? The tattooed halfling shifted his weight onto his spear, with a hand ready to catch his root.

The irishman slides through the door adjusting the mass of pipes hanging on his back while he does a large sweeping bow to those inside over the many strange people. "By Samhildánach where am I?" Running a hand through his brown and grey hair he smiles looking to them. "I thought i'd been all over the isle working for my lord, but this is new."

'Nice to meet you all" she says has she takes the glass of water. "Thank you" As she chugs the whole glass. "Does the bar have anything stronger?" "Maybe hard liqour?"

This message was deleted by the player at 12:52, Mon 20 Apr 2009.

"Whiskey far tha lady and two for me." Jaim says loudly walking to the bar to sit. As he climbs onto the bar stool he adjusts his pipes so he can sit comfortably. The irishman licks his lips and begins tapping and old tune on the bat while he waits.

To the evil creature at the bar, the bartender produces a piece of the Angel Food cake and a kettle of tea and a mug.  Without paying too much attention, he sweeps the coins and drops them into a box.

He pours three glasses of whiskey and leaves them sitting on the bar.

Taking the glasses off the bar, she brings them over.

"Here you are sir and mam.  We accept all manner of payments... so how would you be taking care of your tab?"

"Since i doubt ye take a song fer payment i'll pay in silver."  He reaches into his pack taking out his coins. Six left he shrugs giving the woman all of them. Checking his pack he has very little money on him as he normaly didn't need it. "How many drinks will that get me?"

She takes two of the coins and leaves the rest.

"The other bard sang for his supper and got a meal and a few drinks.  If you would like, many of the patrons here are traditionally generous."

"I'm not a bard, but my lord enjoys a good battle or drinking song." Jaim smiles and hands her two more silver. "I'll need more of these." He takes two big drinks and hands the empty glasses back to the tavern wench. His smile still on his face he turn and searches through his bag.

"If you lost a lot of blood you should probably avoid the whiskey, get something with a little less alcohol and a little more sugar first."
He leans back in the booth, and picks up his guitar and checks its tuning, "but that is just my opinion."

He strums out a few scales unamped and hums along.

"Thak you and may i ask you your name?" she says as she quickly dinks the potent liquid.

Jaim turns around looking to the others and he begins to speak in a low gaelic dialect he presses his hand on Johanna's shoulder and he breathes out a green puff of smoke. "I am Jaim servant of Lugh, master of magic, song and war. Being that your a warrior yerself my lord will grant me the ability to heal yer wounds that is if you wish to except that healing."

"Thank you for the offer but ive already been repaired."

"Any time lass." Jaim shrugs laying his bagpipes on the table infront of him. "Whats tha story?"

With a bit of a smile, Parker turns back to the halfling.

"If you want to talk barter, then I will say that I would value that ring at this."

He holds out one of the claw daggers (more of a sword to someone of his size) and one of the dragon tooth daggers.

"Do we have a deal?"
This message was last edited by the player at 19:03, Mon 20 Apr 2009.

"Me?" "Well im from 1944 and i fught in a gigantic world war between all nations." " I ended up here after being hit with shrapnel and thats about it."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:42, Mon 20 Apr 2009.

"Where the hell is 1941?" The man asks leaning back.

"Sorry 1944, and its the year."

He scratches his beard thinking. "Well I don't know the year back home."

"Its ok I understand." "So...what is ther to do around here?"

"I'm new here my self I thought it was a trick of the morrigan."

"Whos morrigan?"

"The only god more feirce than my lord. She is queen of the ravens and enemy to my master."

"interesting" she states and leansin as if *tell me more*

"I'm not drunk enough fer story telling."

"Alright I wont push it."

"Three more drinks then ask me."

Obiohoe smiled with an excitement only a trained story teller can, going above and beyond the norm. Aye, a fine trade indeed. He fished out the ring once more and held it out freely. I gave two broken muskets, a small ruby, a blessing of speed and two live chickens for it.

He was excited about the trade, not for the worth of the items or value in combat. He held magic, as some here do, but his relied on stories and the observation of the past. A few minutes of study and he could pluck a new story of magic from the items.

"Also, they are good for parlor tricks and starting fires." 

He takes one of the smaller knives and puts the point into his glass of wine.  Quickly enough it starts to hiss and boil.

"When the point is pressed into anything, it carries over a little bit of the fire from the old bastard of a dragon I knocked it out of the face of."

"I have a question for those willing to answer, if this is a peacful place why dont they just warp out our weapionry well never need them?"

"Young lady... we don't do that here.  It just isn't necessary... ask the Kobold, someone tried to kill him earlier."

"From the look of it its because only inside is peaceful. Outside can be as violent as where you came from, depending on who you upset."

He plugged the guitar into his miniature amp on his belt and began playing "Jessica" by the Allman Brothers.

"Also it seems some people are quiet attached to to their weapons and would be at a loss without them." His eyes glanced over to his guitar case, then back to the crowd.

Baal downs a few drinks and just listens to all the people and music

Johanna walks over to the barkeep. "how much for a drink?"

"That would depend on what kind of payment ya have young lady."

"Umm i dont have any money is there any way i can make some?" "Serving or something?"

"We haves all the serving wenches we need, but we aint never turned away someone that was hungry or thirsty."

He leans in close to her.


His voice is jovial and followed by a laugh.

She leans in and whispers to the barkeep.

With a smile, and a puff from the cigar...

"This one is on the house."

He passes a tall glass of Kentucky Bourbon across the bar.

"Thank you very much"She nods and turns away to sip her drink and enjoy the music. "Im gona head into the woods to look around for awhile, maybe look for some excitement."

Baal gets up and walks over to the man in the cloak. "So? What's your name?"

"There are two other groups out there already, they were saying some interesting things about the forest and how they were looking for weird things, like paths and monsters," he took the clip for the garand out of his pocket and reloaded the rifle on the table. He then went back to playing the song.

"If you still feel like going out, take your rifle. But beware the group with the big metal man. Some of them seem like they shoot first, piss on the body next, then ask questions when they are bored a few hours later. Approach them carefully, and you should be okay."

Bareback steps into the tavern, his hat removed, hoping no one noticed the nasty wound on the side of his head.  Or, failing that, that no one asked about it.  Violence was a way of life for him, for his kind, but the wound had done damage to his self esteem.  Walking through the tavern he takes a seat at the bar and waits for the bartender to approach him.

Water, please.

Consuming alcohol, or anything that was bad for his health, was against his belief system.  Sipping the water he watched the tavern patrons, not out of wariness, just from idle curiosity.

She takes the gun from Jethro and loaded/cocked it. "Thank you but before i leave is there anywhere i can trade for a backpack and some supplies?

Hakka steps toward the tavern with his axe drawn, stomping loudly and whooping as he approaches trying his best to draw as much attention as possible. He also surveys the scene and looks to see what is around other than the tavern. He also clanks his fist on his armor to add to the sound.

With a side ways glance and a sigh towards the halfling, Parker jumps down off of his seat and goes over to stand in front of the giant ork.  It is quite a contrast, the two foot kobold stepping up to block the path of the monstrosity that is the ork.

"Hey... you up there.  PUT... THE... AXE... AWAY... you won't need it in here."

Seeing the Kobold step in front of the hulking figure Bareback sets his water down and walks towards the door.  It is his lot in life to mediate problems, to head them off before they become problems.  It's what he did for his tribe.

Walking up behind the kobold he speaks to the hulking warrior in a calm voice.

Good day warrior.  I am new here myself but it seems they have an open, peaceful atmosphere here.  I doubt you'll see any trouble.  Why don't you come join me for a drink?

Hakka smiles a broken tooth grin at the man and attaches it to binding rings on his back. As long as you iz payin humie. I am known as da cleaver in my home land, I hope diz place is fit for me. He stares down in disdain at the kobold and steps over it.

He watched the small parlor trick, smiling. To be honest, it is things like that that my people adore the most. Magic is less than a hundred years old in my land, with small exceptions, and it provides a distraction from the machines of other nations. We are the largest by far, so host the most sorcerers, wizards and lore keepers like myself. We take it as a thing of pride.

He eagerly awaited the trade to be official. You may try the ring first if you wish, think of any stealthy feline and focus on it for the enchantment to work, just leave the wares on an open table. Good practice my fine dragon-ken.

With the bustle of new, and fairly strange patrons the tattooed and half-naked halfling watched them for a split second. When he saw the orc his eyes opened wide. He leaned in to the Kobold, In my land the crazed god that brought magic brought them as well. The Theri nation, mostly dwarves, have fought them ever sense. Dwarves being taller than us, but shorter than the others.

Looking at the halfling but thinking this ork would be much less of a challenge than the space marine was earlier.  Sitting back down with the halfling, he smiles, showing all of his teeth.

"There are plenty of orcs in my world.  But none quite that large."

He extends his clawed hand to the halfling and grins.

"I have examined the ring with the sight and verified it's powers.  The deal is done as far as I am concerned.  I am Parker, Dragon Borne Kobold and inheritor of arcane might."

Feeling a little left out, Jethro reached into his bag and put his whammy bar onto his axe. He adjusts the settings of the little amp and with a spin and a tip of his hat, introduced himself to the newcomers.

"And I am Jethro Caso, Scientist and Inheritor of the power of Rock!"

He laughs as he slaps the bar, making a screaming dive as he starts playing "Eruption" by Eddie Van Halen

Jaim stands up and walks to Johanna with a smile. "I couldn't let a fellow warrior travel with out supplies. Lets see what we can get you from the bar keep i've got a few more silver and a couple of gem i can trade." The irish man cringes hearing the man kill the guitar fighting the urge to show him real music. "I'll travel with you i'd like to learn more about 1944 and your war. I'll tell you about my god and his people."

Slapping his hands to his ears and screaming out in pain.

"AAAAAHHHHH I thought this place was supposed to protect against such grievous assaults.  I was gravely mistaken in calling you a Bard.  You are truly a brute sent to destroy my senses."

Jethro laughs so much that he would have dropped his guitar if he was not wearing the strap.

"I'm sorry Parker, people from my time actually enjoy that melody. I'll avoid heavy metal music from now on, to prevent your senses from being destroyed. "

He turns the amp down and puts on the chorus effect and began plucking a soft melody.

The Cleaver?, Bareback asks.  Looking at the size of the Orks axe he can imagine why.

Walking up to the bar he resume sipping his water and motions for the bartender to get his new found friend something to drink.

I hope they take the currency of your home world or we may both be in trouble.  I am called Bareback, my friends know me as Howard.  As to how fit this place is, I just arrived and truth be told I am not even sure what this place is.  The little fellow seemed rather brash, especially with someone your size.  Are you familiar with his kind?

To Bareback many of these people looked like something out of a fantasy novel.  Orcs, kobolds, none of them existed where he was from.  Or if they did, he was unaware of them.

Frank delights over the wonderful pasty and brings up his hands, both of them seemingly skeletal. He takes a bite of the cake and exclaims in joy like a giddy schoolgirl, wholfing down the whole thing without making any sounds of chewing or swallowing somehow.

He sighs, then perks up "Oh... excuse me" And promptly farts and burps, sighing again before picking up his tea and sipping it.

"Sure Jain you can travel with me ill only be going about a day out and a day back in." "Im only gonna be looking at the surrounding area."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:13, Tue 21 Apr 2009.

The only fing a creature dat size iz good for is knoblar bait, nasty ittle buggas the knoblar. He rubs a scar in the shape of teeth marks on his left ankle. Ittle bastards are smaller dan im, but dey have my respect.
Hakka switches over to the other topic. Dey betta take my money ere. He takes out an orc tooth from a bag at his hip. Money tends ta fight back where I come from. He then sits down a seat over from Bareback to avoid invading his personal space.

"We accept all types of hard or transerable currency here.  What can I get ya?"

The old man tries to get through the crowd of people. He gets to the bar. He asks the barkeep "Do a lot of people just come in at once like this often?"

"Many? ? ?  This is but a few."

"Hmm. What is the most unusual being that has walked through that door?" He asks him trying not to annoy him

"Unusual is a matter of perspective. We have all sorts come here. The most unusual looking by your standards would be Parker over there, but most of our patrons are unusual in their own right. Coming to this tavern we have had two elves from worlds apart, who couldn't be more similar in some ways, or different at the same time it seems. There is a Space Marine, a man clad in Metal who even though is human, looks more of a Giant. Mages with flowing robes and weird floating eyes, to those that wear street clothes."
He ponders a bit, "Actually, the most unusual patron so far is that Scott kid. While most of you are warriors, magisters and explorers, he seems to be pretty . . . I don't know how to say it to not sound like an ass, Average."

"Interesting" He walks away from the bar. He notices the young woman talking about leaving. He walks over to her. "Hey ya mind if i come along? I really don't like fighting but I can't let a woman go out in the wilderness even if you have someone else ya got comein with ya"

Where is it that you come from?, Bareback asks the cleaver.

Realizing the forwardness of the question might be offensive Bareback rewords his sentence.

Forgive me, I do not wish to be rude.  I am from Colorado, a state in the United States of America.  Bareback looks around the tavern for a minute before adding... From a planet called Earth.  I am a Garou, a werewolf in every day terms.  I am from a tribe called the Stargazers, among my people I am a judge, and interpreter of the law, and frequently a punisher of the guilty.

 Jethro couldn't help think to himself, 'Colorado? Well. . . I guess that's as good as any for werewolves.'

He would never do it, it would be stupid, but he let his hands drift to the chords for the chorus of 'Werewolves of London' anyway. He didn't actually strum, though. Even with the air of safety of the tavern, he wasn't going to piss off a werewolf.  Still, when Bareback's back was turned he mouthed out the chorus with a little emphasis on the 'Ahooooo!'.

Considering the trade done, he made sure the ring was received then politely took the sword and dagger, carefully dangling them from small tied ropes on his belt.

He turned around, leaning on the spear to watch the various behemoths exchange their niceties. He gave the odd elder human a quick look, having never seen a human over middle age. His nation had it's equal share of humans, but his tribe was located in a remote region of the great jungles.

His ears having born witness to the words and odd sounds of the man in blue jeans, often called Bard, his curiosity reached a high enough level needing more information. He hobbled his way closer and without checking to see if he was already engaged in conversation spoke plainly.

Is a scientist like a scientition? There are people in my world that once worked alchemy and now make guns and rumored to create grain mills that don't operate by wind, river or muscle. Are you like them? Can you make things from armor scraps?

Even with his questioning, the orc received more than a few side long glances.

In reply to Baal (msg #97):

"Sure old man you can come if its ok with Jaim."

Jethro lifted his hat and smiled at the little man.  He seemed like a kid to him, and seemed to have the same curiosity.

"From scraps? I don't know about scraps . . . A scientist might be like a scientition, though I never heard the term before.  As for alchemy, we have evolved a bit past that term. My work is, well, I guess it can be equated to to that, but a more advanced version.  A scientist is a person who observes things, makes experiments and tries to learn about the universe in its fullest."

Thinking that the description isn't the best way to explain science, he begins rummaging through his guitar case and pulls out a few vials and a few doctor's tools, and a wire.

"We also try to create more and more sophisticated things. From machines, to medicine, to chemicals, compounds and weapons. My latest research was trying to make a way to imitate the sun in whats called a nuclear fusion reaction in a way to generate energy and electricity for people."

He begins mixing what looks like a red sand and a dark gray powder into a cylinder in specific amounts.

"I can design things like your mills, yes, but I usually do not do the building myself. If you want to see some cool chemistry in action, follow me. Parker, I think you might find this interesting too."

He picks up his now empty pewter plate and takes the vial and wire with him as he heads out onto the porch.

Mixing powders? Charlatans have done that sense recorded history to fake magic before it came. He may know why they do the things they do though, and it may prove interesting. He smiled at his own private musings.

As long as you do not blow us all up. I saw something called a steam expansion device burst before it could make a cart move down a pipe. The scieintitian died. With that, he made his way to the porch as well.

With a sudden jolt Wilford found himself behind the bar looking up a barmaids skirt with his camera at just the right angle in one hand and a pistol in the other. He placed the pistol on the floor and just before the maid could react he burst out in a fit of laughter. Seconds before he was far away, now he had just appeared back in the tavern.

Once more he found himself covered in sewer water, once more the tavern saved his life. Now he was getting perfect footage for the internet, just not of the variety he wanted. The whole mess was too much for the man.

"Ya enjoyin the view down there?"

The bartender reaches down and hoists Wilford back to his feet with surprising ease.

"Welcome back"

His laughing ended with a surprised Whoa!
 He let his camera dangle around his neck after switching it off. He smiled at the bartender. Not my cup of tea, but far better than what was in front of me a moment ago. This place is like a parachute. He shook his head making his way from behind the bar.

He didn't give the new crowd a second glance. He was covered in grime, slime, shit and worse. Again. He fished out his dripping wallet to pull out some soggy bills.

You know where I am heading.

With that he went once more to where the bathes were given. I feel like a newborn again, slimy and creepy looking.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:14, Wed 22 Apr 2009.

Hakka dumps various orc teeth out of the tan blood stained bag at his hip. I hope that covers a squig beer around ere, last innkeepa tried ta tell me I was tryin ta cheat im..

The barkeep picks out 7 of the teeth, dumping them into the same box he had dumped the gold coins in.  He opens the cabinet behind the bar and pulls out a pitcher sized glass of foul smelling beer.

"Here ya go."

"I'll observe your demonstration as long as you swear not to sing any more of those painful wailing songs."

In order to see the experiment that the bard has agreed he jumps off the chair and the wings come out and starts to hover in place.

He downs it without blinking and slams the mug back down on the counter, he pulls a shiny looking amulet he hits it on the table a few times shakes his head and puts it away again.

Wazz looks about for a moment before leaning over toward the innkeeper. I waz just a wonderin, what are da spacin laws for his asstablishment. I have a few ladz that needa place ta stay and diz place may be just da thing they are lookin for.

Barky shakes his head,

"The woods are fur people comin and goin.  Them woods wuldn't put up with no one tryin ta live in dem."

You speak of the woods as if they were a living entity.

The bartenders comment roused curiosity in Bareback, he had spent much of his life in the woods, but had never encountered anything like the bartender seemed to suggest.

From what people have been saying about them, and from what I've seen through the windows, you can say they are. They have their own magic about them.

In reply to Barkeep (msg #114):

Bareback scratches his head, a habit he has picked up ever since the Hunter blew a portion of it off.

Is that how people come to be here?  Through the woods?

Bareback thinks a moment and asks another question before the Bartender can answer the first one.

Has anyone ventured out there to see what is there?

"Aye, there are groups out there now exploring. No telling what you would find though. Most that go are trying to go home, but there are those out there now trying to see whats out there. One of the first groups found ghosts, but there is no telling what else is out there."

Thank you for the information.

Bareback turns in his chair to glance out of the window towards the woods.

Ghosts?  The woods behaving as though they live? 

Thoughts churn through Barebacks mind, exploring the woods holds a certain appeal.  How he came to be here is still a mystery to him, but he believes somewhere in the woods he may find an answer.

By-tor heads to the barkeep, and sits in one of the stools. "Hello, do you have anything to eat, or do you only serve drinks?" Directing his question at the Barkeep.

Jethro sits down at his booth and stretches out.
  He puts back on his guitar strap and flexes his finger along the fretboard. He contemplated what to play for a while as he plugged the Fender into his miniature amplifier. He pulled his plectrum from the headstock and strummed out a solid C major. He then strums a solid rhythm that any from a modern time recognize as "House of the Rising Sun", following with the D-A-F-A-E progression, and singing along with the same smokey voice from before.

Bareback, hearing the Bard play a tune that is familiar to him, walks over and pulls up a chair.  Waiting for the Bard to finish his tune he nods in approval.

The Animals?  A little before my time but something my mother used to listen to when I was a child.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:32, Thu 23 Apr 2009.

Still puffing on the same cigar, Barky looks down at the halfling.

"We gots lots of different eats here sir.  Cookie still has some kabobs and some roast left.  If ya wants somethin else, itll just take some time."

That sounds good, is there enough for two hungry hobbits and a dog? Also, perhaps you have some hay for my mule outside by any chance? I think this will cover it all. By-tor sets down 5 gold pieces on the table.

Wazz has a look of intrest come over his face. Barkeepa, another ale if ya would. He sets more orc teeth down on the counter.

Dave walks over to the bar
Bartender, could I get a beer and some of those kabobs you were talking about if you don't mind?

He reaches into a pocket on his bag and pulls out a small bag. He reaches into the bag and pulls out a coin and gives it to the bartender

How much will this get me?

"Sure thing..."

He picks up the coins from the halfling, some of the teeth from the ork, and the coin from the marine.  He draws the beer, produces another pitcher sized glass for the ork and places an order to the kitchen.

"Coming right up."

It is odd, almost any form of currency is accepted and he seems to take what would be a fair price in your home world.

The 'bard' finished his song and put his feet up on his table.  He mused to himself about how tall the orc looked next to the hobbit. The burly humanoid dwarfed everyone, but that was quite a sight.

He decided to hold off playing another song, instead decided to watch the goings on until the muse hits him for what to play next.

The barkeep accepts the plates and kabobs from the kitchen and delivers them to all the paying patrons.

He goes into the box and pulls out a large roll of what appears to be money and puts it in front of the tattooed man with the hunting rifle.

"You really should carry smaller currency," he remarks to Dave as he hands him the cash and the food.

Dave puts the roll of bills into a pocket in his bag and takes the steaming plate

Thank you, I wasn't expecting to leave the commonwealth otherwise I would have brought hard currency he says with a shrug and a sheepish smile


He takes the plate and mug and goes to sit by the now silent musician

Jethro wasn't expecting company but wasn't going to reject it.

"I don't think we formally met, Jethro Caso," he said, offering his hand.

By-tor says to the barkeep "Thank you, bartender" And heads outside to take the food to his friends.   <to porch>

Dave puts down the plate and foaming mug and takes the offered hand in a firm grip

Nice to meet you Jethro, PFC Dave Hamilton

He sits down and takes a long drag from the mug then a bite from out of one the kabobs. With an approving nod and an audible mmmmm he offers one to the musician.

"No, thank you," said the singer, putting up a hand, "I had the chicken, so I'm good."

Jethro gave the Private a good once over. "So if I remember right, you said that It was the twenty first century that we made wormholes in your universe. Care to enlighten a researcher? Or want to tell of any of the other fun stuff I can maybe look forward to?"

It was a while ago he mentioned it, but one like Jethro doesn't forget a mention of something of the sort.

Well in 2040 we invent rejuvenation, and in 2050 we come up with how wormholes work, by we I mean two drugged up smoked up college geniuses did and in time to mess up the mars landing. Those two became the two most powerful humans in existence. As for how it works, I haven't a clue

Dave takes another long drag form his beer

So in a span of 10 years humanity gained the two things it has always wanted Immortality and access to the stars. So 300 sum odd years later we have Dave points to the tattoos on his face organic circuitry tattoos, memory implants, and even "energy shields". Not to mention contact with 3 different alien species.

Dave takes a few bites from the kabob and watches the musicians reaction

Parker flies over to the small group of people that seem to be going out to investigate, stopping in front of them.

"I hope you will listen to a small bit of advice that the matron gave me, 'Those that go looking for trouble, find it.'  If you want to go out to the woods to look around, I suggest you talk to that bald headed human who just got back from such an expedition to find out what you will.  I have used the sight to look into those woods, and they looked back."

With his piece spoken, he moves back over towards the bar to better hear the conversations there.

Hakka drinks his ale slowly before going over to the group of people heading for the woods. He sits him self right next to them hopefully communicating the point he is going with them even if they don't need his help.

"On second thought ill just head out alone thanks for the supplies Jaim." <To the woods>

Jethro showed an obvious amount of disappointment. Still it probably would be for the better he didn't get his hands on some advanced research like that.  The world wasn't ready, not yet.

"So two men took the credit for such discoveries? That is disgusting. Oh well, you can't help what the press tells the people and what they want to acknowledge.  If your world was anything like mine in the twenty first, I would not have thought we were so close to bending and folding space-time so readily. Maybe they were right with superstring. Manipulating extraneous dimensions seems like it could have that effect. More so than quantum gravity at least. Oh, sorry I'm rambling again."

Taking note that the rifle he carried didn't seem like one that a soldier would keep with him.

"So what were you hunting? Space deer in Andromeda?"

Well the two "men" as you call it were, like I said a couple of brilliant college kids who built the thing as a pet project in their spare time at Cal-tech. As for what I was hunting, nothing really, I wanted some time alone so hunting on Faraway seemed as good as any place to escape to. Not many people, huge forests and beautiful terrain.

Dave takes another drag from his beer and leans the chair back so its resting on two legs

So Jethro what do you do other than play music and make... he looks side to side as though checking to see if they are alone SCIENCE!?He says a theatrical manner, raising his hands above his head and  Sorry about that sometimes I can't help my self he says with a chuckle

Jethro looked down for a sec and got up to get a drink. Nothing fancy, just a beer. When the keep gave it to him he sat back down and leaned back, reclining over the whole booth.

"Well, after I left Academia, I've mainly been traveling the globe. Jumping country to country, making up for some mistakes I've made and being a perpetual thorn in the side of my sponsors."

With that he took a heavy drink and wiped his mouth. He wasn't a big fan of beer, but he wasn't in the mood for anything harder, and had a feeling he was going to want at least a little bit of alcohol in his blood.

"Last place I was before coming here was Great Britain, pretty boring compared to Faraway I bet," he said putting his unlabeled lager on the table.

By-tor walks in the tavern  "Fralo, here's 2 gold pieces for a couple of beers, I'll be at the booth over there." By-tor points to Jethro and Dave's booth "they seem like a good group, and maybe we can learn something, you never know" He contiues on to their booth to talk with them.

"Sir?" calling over the barkeep, fralo continues to ask him "Can I get 2 beers with this?" motioning toward his gold coins.

"Yeah," the keep takes a coins puts too unlabeled bottles on the bar.

Thank you! Fralo replies, with the bottles in hand, and heads to the booth to meet with By-tor and his new friends.

The tribal halfling came back inside, his smile ever larger. He looks around for a table with a free chair, not caring if anyone else is seated there. He stretches and places his spear on the table and struggles to sit in the empty chair. It didn't take him long to be seated, but he did it with the grace of a drunk toddler.

Any of those that were facing his rear learned why loin-cloths are a rare clothing choice. He straightened his small vest and made sure his nethers were covered. After that he pulled out some more small golden teeth and waved his spear in the air, leather thong still covering the spear-head. Blood Wine and a shot of whiskey please! His call was far deeper than his normal talking voice. He slapped six of the golden teeth on the table, each the equivalent to any other world's gold coins (having the same weight of gold.)

The 'bard' takes his feet of the booth seat when the others seem to want to sit down. "Hello, so where do you two hail from?"

The barkeep took two of the teeth and poured a double shot of whiskey for the halfling.

Then he reached in a cabinet and pulled out an odd bottle of wine and poured a glass for him as well.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:37, Sat 25 Apr 2009.

"We hail from Buckleberry, a small town due west of here, we just started our journey about a week ago to head to the mountains to the east." By-tor takes a sip of his drink. "Where do you hail from?"
This message was last edited by the player at 03:30, Sat 25 Apr 2009.

"I'd hate to tell you this, but I think your directions are a little off."

The singer takes another drink and puts it down near the headstock of his guitar.

"From what I've heard, its been determined that this place is not in any world anyone can call home, save for the staff. But me, I'm from Earth 20-12, born in America, but came to this place from Liverpool, England."

Yes, you are somewhere else. He stopped for a second, very intrigued. Unless you have ken that dress as I do, I doubt we are even from the same world. Are your people the most numerous? You must excuse me, I figured humans and the more magic creatures would be more likely to live on many worlds. Our kind, I figured unique to my, possibly our world. He smiled at those he considered kin. He took the blood-wine with both hands and swallowed deep. he then took the whiskey and mixed it in with the wine, his eyes were bright as he stirred the drink with his fingers.

By-tor was astonished, although he had seen things that made him wonder where some of them come from, since there was such a variety.

"You two sound so calm when saying that we are all from different worlds, I mean... for example, Jethro, it has to be quite unusual to see hobbits, and whatever other magical creature is here, am I right? How do you know if we can even get out of here, what if we are trapped in the tavern, and this mystical forest forever!"

There was a slight quiver to By-tor's voice, and he took a gulp of his drink. An escape from his monotonous life he had wasn't worth being trapped in a world where everything doesn't make so much sense as it had, just simply being with the townsfolk that he knew, hearing the daily gossip, eating good meals and he suddenly had missed the simplicity of that world he had only left but a week ago.

Fralo, much calmer knew that anyone here would probably be panicking just like By-tor if there indeed was no exit. Fralo is most of the time optomistic about things.

"Do either of you know if there is a way out of this place? I would very much like to carry on with this journey by the morning. Do we just walk straight through the forest perhaps?"

I can not speak for Goodman Jethro, but I did feel some fear and much curiosity in coming here. I do not know if there is a way out, but one would hope that if there was not the friendly Brew Master would have told us all. He paused. Do your people not have tales of a place that travels the land? Being in one place then going to another? Or any stories about a world outside your own that has hidden passages all over your world that lead to it? I know over a score of such legends. One of them contains powerful magic, so I would be too tentative to tell it, the others cost a round of drinks. He smiled, not knowing if anything he said was helpful to the good half-men.

He agread with the more stoic kinsmen assessment though. There would be far more frowns, and a great deal more people if no one could leave. He was even sure the bartender told the ork no one was allowed to live here.

Oh, and I think I heard the brew-master, good fellow, say no one could live here. That must mean we can leave somehow.

Jethro chuckled at the frantic words of the hobbits.

"Normal people, perhaps would be a little thrown by the sight. True, but I have never really been that normal. I've spent almost all of my life immersing myself in literature and media that some call fantasy or science fiction, but some here call reality. I am a man of science, but I am not going to be as bold as to say magic never existed, or doesn't still.  Nor would I ever be as bold as to say that history is completely linear and there is only one version of my world. I always had a feeling that the truly groundbreaking writers and creators may have actually seen the other worlds, through dreams or actual travel. The fact that I'm here right now confirms it to me."

His mind went to the kid, Scott again. Who probably was not as flexible minded as him, but still seemed to come from somewhat of a similar world, and a bit earlier of a time. He seemed to be holding up okay, but wasn't sure what could make him break. Jethro was confident that he could a conversation with something out of Lovecraft, at least for a minute or two. But Scott was so startled by even the peaceful people that a scary episode of "The Care Bears" probably could have pushed him at that point.

He took his half smoked cigarette out from behind his ear and lit it again.
"I really should quit. . . anyway. As for getting home, I overheard that a few others got home already, and even managed to come back. I think they said they were going back once again, and since they haven't returned yet, they probably were successful.  Walking straight through the forest sounds like it would probably get you where you need to go. That's just my hypothesis. I haven't tested it personally, and I have no ambition to right now."

Johanna notices the ork's movement and calls over "Are you looking to come to?"
"I wouldnt mind."

"Well, thats a bit of a relief!"

By-tor began to calm down as he ate his food and drank a little more, he wasn't exactly fat, but for adventuring and doing what he is set out for, he could be a bit more trim for the job.

"Yes, I'm not ready yet to go, but soon I will need a good rest, and set off in the morning, which reminds me, I may want to see if anyone around here is up for accompanying the two of us on our adventure to a fountain that is rumored to contain secrets and treasure, called the fountain of lamneth...although I find it awkward traveling with some people from different worlds, but some like, say Obiohoe, are more like my kin - even if he has a drastically different lifestyle."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:48, Sun 26 Apr 2009.

He bows his head to the hobbit. If that is an invitation let me warn you; I have a gimp walk. I can not run without hurting myself. I do keep a mount, a Jungle Claw, with me. You may have seen him on the way here hunting for food. He is slender and almost as tall as most humans. He is good company and from a good line. He is also a strong defender should I get hurt, otherwise he does not like harming things besides food. He smiles and laughs. It took generations to breed out the anger.

((OOC: Take an Eberron halfling and mix it with the setting of Arcanum. He is what you get. A tribal halfling on a raptor from a magic/tech world.))

I'd be happy to travel with you Obiohoe, although i should warn you that neither me, nor Fralo has a mount, and so there will be much walking, and the journey may be slow, although if we somehow earn enough gold, perhaps we could buy two mounts, but that could be unlikely. But will you nevertheless, join us on our quest?

The halfling shrugged. I can always use a new story, and who knows, the one I tell from this may contain magic. He smiled and raised up his glass. So sure thing! With that he downed the glass, spilling a great deal onto his bare chest.

Wind Tail could drag you two if there is a sled. He doesn't like it, but he would do it.

"Excellent!"

By-tor followed suit, and downed the rest of what was in his drink, making sure not to spill what was in his drink on himself.

"shall you be ready by morning? I could leave later, but I would prefer to press on."

I will be asking to sleep on the porch. I may be far from my world, but I have followed the customs of my nature so long I can't abandon them. So, If I am not awake when your ready then kick me in the ribs. Just make sure Wind Tail isn't close by. Everything I need is on me, and I have my own hunter for food.

He leaned back on his chair. It had been a long time sense he had been on an adventure. He had been taking a vacation and was on the way to his sister's village when he found this place. He felt he was getting antsy anyway.

"Great, the more the merrier! On another subject, I heard your performance earlier Jethro, I thought it was quite good, I thought i'd mention that I know a little singing and guitar playing myself, I prefer to fingerpick, may i play a little tune I know? The guitar may look a little different, and it seems it plays out of that device there *points at the amplifier* but it shouldn't be too much different"
This message was last edited by the player at 03:05, Sun 26 Apr 2009.

The singer nods and slides the instrument over. He takes the amp off this belt and adjusts it so it simulates and acoustic.

"It's tuned in standard E-A-D-G-B-E. I have a tuner and capo, if your guitars are normally tuned different. That's even assuming you use the same musical notation. Fiddle with it and feel free to change the tuning."

Parker moves towards the back of the tavern, sitting in a place where he can watch the other people.  He pulls out another large tooth and a few tools.  He starts to carefully file and shape the tooth.

Hakka decides to go explore the woods on his own since he doesn't really have anything better to do, he stands up loudly clanking his armor and exits the Tavern. <exitin to the Woods>

By-tor strums the guitar for a moment listening to it's sound, testing a few chords, and then replying "This will do just fine" and grinned. He started fingerpicking with what we would call a "B minor", then an Am, D,  E/G#, and so on to make a tune that he repeated three times, switched a few chords, and Then began his song. He had somewhat of a high voice, but it was a pleasing tone.

"When they turn the pages of history, when these days have passed long ago,
Will they read of us with sadness for the seeds that we let grow? We turned our gaze from the castles in the distance, Eyes cast down on the path of least resistance...

The song had gone much like this, and he strummed a variation of chords throughout his singing. When he was finished he smiled and gave the guitar back to Jethro.

"I learned that from a bard that had traveled to our village on the way to a city, in fact I have learned all that I know about the outside world through poems, songs, and since our village is on the way to one of the largest cities I know of, there have been plenty of people with much knowledge passing through our town often."

Baal heads out to the porch waiting for his party to leave;

<TO: The Porch>

Taking back the instrument, Jethro nodded.

"Not bad, I'll probably carry the tune to my world, if you do not mind."

Looking over to Dave, "People don't seem to like sticking around here it seems. Everyone always seems in such a rush to get somewhere else. I think its nice just enjoying the rest and company. But I am curious, what is out there?"

Dave has been listening quietly, drinking in the atmosphere, not really paying attention to any one thing for some time after finishing his meal.

Wha...O...Well it seems like anything and everything you can think of, I suppose. We have what amounts to living proof all around us.

Seeing baal leave Johanna walks to the door after him. <To Porch>

"Ho humm. . . They really should listen to Parker."

The singer lounged back in the booth and relaxed.

"I wonder where the others are."

Robin strode into the bar, his smiling eyes quickly glancing over the other patrons as he approached the counter. "Barkeep! A bottle of your most ludicrously overpriced drink that's worth every penny, and send a glass to the rest of the crowd as well." He said with a little wave toward the others.

"When it comes to the over priced, we have some. But when it comes to actually worth it, here."
He takes out a blue box from under the counter. From it he pulls a bottle of scotch whiskey and pours a series of glasses.

It is far too quite in here now! I have lived in a city with thousands within a stones throw of my own carving, I am used to alot of noise. I threaten now, that if a jig is not played and a dance not befall the floor I may begin spinning some tales to break this awful mood.

He placed his mug back onto the table, and gave a good look at those who have so far decided to stay. True, he gave his services to his kinsmen, but he wasn't going anywhere at the moment. Now was the time for fun.

Jethro laughed and took his cue.

"If you wanted something to dance to you could have said so."

He took the guitar from the table and dropped the tuning on his high E to a D and B to an A. He then played a rendition of 'Toreador' from Carmen.

He laughed at the bards actions and clapped his hands together. The mix of whiskey, wine and blood surging through his head. He slid off his chair grabbing his spear. He hobbled and limped his way to a clearing big enough to let him strut his stuff. He held his spear like a partner, and began dancing along with the music an odd mix of salsa and waltz. He did pretty well for a person unable to put much weight on his right leg.

The musician could not help but laugh at the sight but played on.  As long as his audience enjoyed it, he would play on.

It did not take long before the halfling had to stop. He gave his spear a clumsy dip, then gave a circular bow to all the tavern.

Before the war, dancing is how I charmed the women folk. Now, I am lucky if this spear will let me hug it. He gave a big smile as he used his spear as a walking stick once more to get back to his chair. A few struggles and he was seated once more.

He looked to Jethro with a smile and gave a few appreciative claps. I was hoping to whip the rest of the place into a dancing fever like the days of old, I only succeeded in sweating out some of the whiskey.

He leaned back in his chair with a smile. His mind now swimming with pain and alcohol, nicely canceling each other out.

By-tor smiled and said

"It was a fine dance, I had half the mind to join you, and was just about to! But how exactly did you injure yourself, and what war did you fight in?

By-tor was very curious about this very peculiar halfling. Another thought had occurred to him, what time is it? He searched the room for any signs of someway to tell what time it was, but he then asked:

"sorry for so many questions, but do any of you know what time it is right now?"

His brow rose at the question of the time. I have something called a watch, but it has not worked in years. He ruffled in one of his pouches and pulled out a sorely dented iron pocket watch of a very primitive design. The face of the watch had several nude women with wings flying around the odd markings to show the time, there were 13 of such markings. The insides were broken before I ever traded for it, and watches aren't popular where I live. He shrugged and put it on the table.

I fought in the great war as we call it. All of our world's nations took up arms against one another. As Loremaster it is my job to travel with the army. Normally I was kept in the rear and only went to the troops at night. One day, the death cultists snuck up on us. They knew that their lines were going to be pushed back, so they dug small tunnels in their fortifications. When we set up camp we didn't even see the holes, they popped out one night and all hell broke loose.

As he spoke his hands and arms moved about in very drastic measure. Whenever size was mentioned he would pantomime it, for mentions of war he pretended to stab with a spear, when he spoke of the surprise he rose his hands and crooked his fingers. His face changed expression eagerly when ever the mood demanded it. All such movements where the bread and butter of his "office."

Jethro checked his wrist watch.

"My watch says 5 pm, but the sun says high noon. I don't know what time it was when you arrive though. Something tells me that time is pretty relative here. Even more so than normal."

When the halfling recounted the story, the bard listen carefully. The whole tactic seemed very familiar. He couldn't help but think of the stories he heard of Vietnam and VC's strategies.

With the time issue resolved, the halfling decided to expand on his story.

It was very dark that night, and the death cultists had been waiting for three days without making a sound. See, they are trained from birth to mimic the dead- the entire country is! I was visiting our musket soldiers, telling them stories of battles in the old past. Most were eating in the defense lines dug by our enemies. I was leaning back on the cold ground, at least five feet deep these trenches were. Uhruin, an old friend was the first to spot them burst from the dirt not but five feet from me. Their black uniforms and white hats were caked with earth and clay, their flails and pistols thrashing and firering wildly. Their eyes spoke of men driven half mad. The death cultist were giants to us, easily beating any two Stone Claw stacked together. Uhruin struggled to put on his bayonet, but one of the cultist was too near and was about to take a swing with his flail. Like a dolt I moved to shove Urhuin to the ground and the flail caught me in the lower back. I blacked out for a few hours from the pain, when I woke up we had won. For every Stone Claw killed, three of them met the death they yearned for.

He leaned back, his frantic motions now at an end. He seemed to ponder the events now, reflecting on those brief few seconds that crippled him for a life time.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:06, Wed 29 Apr 2009.

"My my my. Never have I heard such dark tales following such a cheerful dance." Robin swept across the tavern like a wind of smiles and expensive scotch. "Any man who can step so lightly should not be weighed down by his memories. Here..." He set a few glasses of the scotch on the table before them. "keep your spirits up." He gave a little toast

By-tor raised his glass and gave a small toast as well. "To the good health of us all, and may good luck befall our futures." He took a mouthful of the drink. "Thank you very much, I've never had such an expensive drink before!"   By-tor paused to wipe his mouth, and then looked at Obiohoe "That is an interesting tale, and great bravery to have sacrificed yourself for another, that is very admirable." By-tor started liking this group more and more as he heard the great stories, drank expensive scotch wiskey, and heard excellent music. In comparison he was almost rather boring, yet he was still rather young compared to his companions, and his story has still yet to unravel!

Bah, it was not a sad story as war stories go. I survived against my own better judgment, as did my friend. Besides, we won that conflict and damn near won the war as that battle continued. The winds of fortune brought the conflict to an end. He smiled, gave a small laugh and shook his head. Of course, that's also when the world turned upside down.

He took his shot of whiskey and choked it down, his eyes slightly closed and cheeks flushed. Where I am from we cut our whiskey with blood and syrups, I am not used to such strong uhm, drinks.

He looked to the hobit. Good kinsmen, tell us, regal us of your world. Is it a place filled with scientitions like Good Man Jethro, or place of magic as Good Dragon Parker, or a land of war and steam as mine?

Robin pulled over a chair with his foot and took a seat. He swirled the strong drink over his tongue. Whiskey of blood and syrup? I have to remember that. His eyes turned toward the hobbit, ever interested in learning about lands he had not yet been to.

Actually, it is a world of relative peace, in fact the reason why I stand before you today is because I dream of adventure. I was apprenticed to a swordsmith as a young boy, I even learned how to fight with them a little from my master. There were green hills, and trees as far as the eye could see, with great weather, only sometimes snowing in the winter. The houses were made of stone, clay, hay, and wood - most all very comfortable. For the most part, the only action that I could see were the parties that people would throw, mere tales of great adventure, song, dance, local gossip, which sometimes made me sick by the way, and then there would be the travelers passing through our humble town journeying to the great city ahead. This is the kind of action i yearned for, to slash and slay monsters, to find great sums of wealth, to see the magic that is but to be discovered outside of my town. I know most of my people were quite content relaxing and having comfort in their own, unchanging routine. As far as technology goes, we have a forge for any needs in metal working, horses and donkeys for transportation, swords, axes, and arrows for war, oh and I have also seen a mysterious wizard once, whom I have learned how magic is something that takes years upon years to master, but as far as I know, anyone with the right resources can learn it. to explain my skill with the guitar, that is another technology, eerily similar with Jethro's, although there are a few minor differences, but not enough to make a difference in my playing, but I had played often as another form of entertainment, and a little money on the side. I could go on, but I think that is quite enough!

By-tor chuckled a little as he paused for a moment to think of anything else he may have forgotten, and took a quick drink of the scotch whiskey. Talking about his past life in detail made him wonder how the people were in his old town. He had been an orphan adopted by his master who taught him the art of sword crafting and metal working, his master had also loved him like a father, and   By-tor was sad to leave.

"Keep in mind that this is only but the experiences of a hobbit who hasn't seen the world yet, which, hopefully you can help me explore Obiohoe, for my quest for the fountain is in my own world."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:52, Thu 30 Apr 2009.

The tribal halfling gave a slight smirk, the kind that comes from a man who has seen and done far too much for his own age. Your land sounds like a paradise. Even when there is no war or monsters at the gates my people must fight back the jungle. I have long wanted to move to a land like you describe, but my proud heritage won't let me.

He closed his eyes for a second to imagine the gossipy little town with the grassy hills the "hobbit" told him about.

I take it, Good Hobbit, your people do not make war often? You must now and then, you said you are a sword smith.

"Unless he is an arms dealer," chimes in the bard.

"Just because he makes the weapons, doesn't mean its his people using them. He could sell them to allies who do need it and often find them selves in times of war. Many nations and people in my place make nice livings making and trading weapons with out ever raising one for war."

Yes, this is exactly the case, thank you Jethro. You see, we would make the weapons and sell them for self-defense many times in the market, but I also have sold them to military groups, well my master usually handles the trading, but I help make the weaponry my master sells. Don't get me wrong, we have had small conflicts, but those are usually very minor like a small band of goblins trying to raid our town, and the militia takes care of that.

Jethro was quite interested in the conversation, but couldn't help but have his ears drawn to the outside.

Some things he was expecting to hear. Animals, talking, maybe a dirt bike or something, but drumming caught him off guard.

Shaking it off he looked over to the halfling with wanderlust. "Can I see some of your handy work?"

The man smiles as he slings his drum over his shoulder. Walking with a purpose he takes a seat at the bar looking to the bartender. "Give me a glass of yo finest rum." He pulls a twenty out of his pocket and lays it down waiting for his drink.

The barkeep reaches under the bar and pulls an unmarked bottle.  He pours the glass and slides it over to the man.

"Here ya' go"

He downs the rum and puts the twenty in the glass and slides it back to the barkeep. "Let that start my tab. I'll have more money for the other drinks i'm sure to have." He walks to Jethro smiling when he sees the guitar and picking it up with out asking he looks it over. The mans dark fingers slide up the neck of the ax. "Nice." Croix sets the guitar back down and sets his drum on the ground it comming up to his waist. The bongo was carved with snakes and skulls in the wood with a symbol of his father painted on the stretched skin.

"Please ask before touching my instrument."

The singer tips his hat and looks up at the man. "I assume you were the one 'droppin' that phat beat' outside."

"Thats racist."  He replies shooting an angry look to Jethro. "I drop no 'phat beats'."  The cajun smiles and claps the musician on the shoulder. "Its a joke i'm open to all music though i prefer stuff that has instruments not computers making music." Knowing Jethro would understand what he meant. "The call me Croix Krimmonel and the Loa call me the Nephew Skeleton."

The tattooed, tribal looking halfling, craned his neck towards the new arrival. The term Lao was familiar to him from his word, but surely it couldn't mean the same thing.

Hail Good Man Croix, I am Obiohoe of Clan Stone Claw. I see you and Good Man Jethro hail from the same world, you look to be dressed in similar plants.

"Dats true. Where you from?" Croix leans forward studing the little man for a second before noding and sitting back to listen. He smiles tapping on the drum a little as they sit.

The nation of Harrow of course. Large temples, lush and unforgiving jungles and the highest population in all the land. We control lands on both continents, and fear no other nation. That is where I am from, Good man Croix.

He nods his head to show he understands though in reality he has no clue. With a smile he leans forward. " How long you been here?" He asks both men.

In reply to Jethro Caso (msg #191):

"Sure thing, but the only crafted weapon I have on me is this shortsword."

By-tor gestures towards the sword on his hilt, and he gives the sword and sheath to Jethro for him to examine. By-tor looks at Croix.

"Hello, I am By-tor Greensborough of Buckleberry, I see we have another musician amongst us! Do you hail from the same world as Jethro?"

Jethro accepts the blade and draws it. He checks the balance and gives it a few quick moves. Its obvious that its not his first time holding a sword but he is far from an expert.

"It's quite a nice blade. The desire for swords is a loss in my time and place. People more readily use firearms, since they require little training to be effective and can be used at a distance. Those that do collect blades very rarely employ their use. One of this quality could sell for a decent amount of money, though."

He sheaths the blade and hands it back to the halfling. He turns back over to the newcomer and removes his hat and nods.

"Jethro Caso."

He looked back over to By-tor and Obiohoe.

"He looks as if from a similar world, but with the complicated nature of this place, the same world and time would be very improbable, but astounding. Where and when do you hail from, Croix?"

"New orleans 2008. It might be an alternate version. I've heard that many earths exsist and none the same." Croix smiles thinking of what his father and the other Loa told him about the many worlds.

[From the Porch]

Entering the tavern, Rafi scanned around briefly, noticing a number of new faces, but homing in on the bar.

"Three pints of your best ale and three..." He glanced back to his companions, "... make that two large single malts and a bourbon." He pulled out a wad of notes and passed them over to the barkeep, "That should do for this round and anything the three of us want the rest of the day. If it isn't, just holler." He slumped wearily onto a barstool as he waited for the drinks and pulled out three cigars, offering them to the others.

"We deserve it."

"Ah, as I figured. It is 2014 when I came from. Maybe the same world, maybe not."


"Well, its good to see you guys are alright," called over Jethro when Rafi walked in.

"When Dave came back without you I started to get a little worried."
This message was last edited by the player at 06:27, Sun 03 May 2009.

As Jethro called over, Rafi turned, looked over, and gave a little loose salute to the musician, an expression of fake hurt on his face soon cracking into a grin,

"Alright? With Messrs Boone and Handley as my inestimable companions, I could hardly be anything other than alright." He nodded to the rest of those near to Jethro,

"I see there are quite a few newcomers. Hello chaps. Rafael Corwin... Rafi... at your service. " As he introduced himself, a large black raven hopped onto his shoulder and glared towards them, "And Gerald." He then frowned, as if something had occurred to him, momentary serious,

"I don't suppose Wilford came back did he? He did a runner in the forest and we lost him." Now the safety of his own group was secured, his previous worry for the little explorer had returned.

"Alive and well. He stinks like a New York sewer though."

Rafi let out a sigh of relief and grinned, "So what's new? He seems attracted to sewers for some reason." He looked back to the bar as the drink order arrived, picked up his beer and took a long, deep gulp of the ale then shot one of the malts down in one go. Although the tension was already seeping from his shoulders, their little trip had still left its mark: he was clearly tired and as he idly ran his hand through his hair a few leaves and pieces of moss fell off onto his shoulders.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:54, Sun 03 May 2009.

[From Porch]

Entering the tavern, Scott scanned the room.  Lots of new faces.  He looked for Wilford and frowned, just as happy to not see Gallus.  Yet, Dave was there, that was good.  He was glad to see Jethro and gave him a nod.

Seating himself next to Raf, Scott declined the cigar, but happly took a healthy gulp of his drink.  Taking a deep breath he let it out slowly, this was a nice rest, but he knew it was only a rest.

He was quiet for a bit, debating, then turned to Raf, Teach me It was part question, part demand.

Even with the excitement of all the new people coming into the Tavern, the alcohol in the haflings body took control. He closed his eyes once, twice and then a third time into a deep sleep. He held onto his spear with a death grip, but otherwise was out cold.

((OOC: I hate having characters in the same place, and I feel I should bring Wilford out if just for a moment. I figured Obi was drunk enough to pass out anyway.))

Wilford entered the the main Tavern area from the back, and once again was wearing a cast-off toga until his cloths dried once more.

He looked around for a second and when he spotted Rafi and Scott he ran over, stumbling over his own feet for a second.

You guys made it! I was beginning to worry about you all. He smirked. Know where that damn path took me? He raised his arms and spun around. Does the toga tell you anything? He laughed, his excitement never fading. What happened to you guys? Where is everyone else?

At Scott's words, Rafi looked hard at the young man and seemed about to say something when Wilford emerged, all cheery ebullience and clumsiness. "Later." He murmured to Scott. Not too much later: he knew they had to talk. But for now, he stood up and turned to greet Wilford, raised an eyebrow at the toga,

"Wilford! I hear you've been grubbing in sewers again." He put a hand on the other man's shoulder and looked at him with mock annoyance, "I can't believe you ran off on us." He shook his head and grinned,

"Scott, Boone and I went for a wander in the woods; Dave, quite sensibly, came back here; Drake ran after you... " He frowned slightly, "Although I assume that the child was right and he couldn't find you; and our homicidal chum is... " He shrugged, "I assume that Gallus is out slaughtering small animals somewhere." He frowned a little and added quietly,

"We were worried about you. Where did you end up?"

I was tired of the bickering, and hoped you guys would follow. Anyway, I ended up in the same place I was when I found the way here. The tentacle beast was just a stones throw away when BAM! I landed back here, covered in shit and gunk again.

He shook his head. I hope the others are ok. I got pretty damn lucky, I hope everyone else did too. His eyes were full of worry, while he was bathing he could only think he left the others to die.

"You didn't give us the change to follow." Rafi responded with a shake of his head, "By the time I realized you'd scarpered, you were gone. I'd never have thought those legs of your could move so fast." He shrugged,

"I'm sure they'll be fine. We're unhurt. Just went to this forest glade... waterfalls, woodland fauna... " ...A dead mage, a brace of demons and a Prince of Hell... "... No problem." He glanced at Scott then back to Wilford,

"Did you get any pictures of your tentacle monster this time?"

Not really. Damn thing stayed under all the gunk, got a few seconds of a few tentacles though. Look, sorry for traipsing off, but to be honest it all happened so fast. One second I was a few yards away, the next I was in the New York sewers. The damnedest thing. I don't see how anyone could get used to magic like that. Anyway, sorry your trip seemed so boring. he laughed then slapped the man on the shoulder.

"Oh, you'd be surprised what you can get used to." Rafi said with a grin, then frowned,

"If the tentacle monster is still lurking there, that might pose a teensy problem though when you want to go home." He took another long swig of his beer, "Although I assume you're not planning on going home at least until your clothes are dry again. " He raised an eyebrow,

"Or perhaps you're planning on another expedition?"

Jethro got up and slung the passed out halfling over a shoulder. With a free hand he held on to the spear. Last thing he needed was for the little man to wake up and try to stab him.  He put him in an empty booth where no one would interrupt his blackout.

He went over to the bar and ordered a Snake Bite, and was glad to watch the tended pull out that unmistakable bottle, even without its label, of Southern Comfort and the limes.

"Maybe its for the better," chimed in 'the Bard'. "I don't know about your New York, but the one where I used to live doesn't need to know about a tentacle monstrosity living below them.  Most people probably wouldn't be able to handle the thought."

"I think Wilford planning on the film being for a limited, specialist viewership," Raf commented to Jethro and then glanced at the explorer,

"At least I hope so. Most people are going to freak at the thought of green tentacle monsters in the New York sewers. Even New Yorkers." He took another swig of whiskey and idly lit his cigar,

"Of course, there are far worse than tentacle monsters out there." He paused briefly then, with straight face, continued, "Little girls, for instance. Evil. The lot of `em."

Jethro lit the cigarette in his ear and gave a weird look over to Rafi. He wasn't sure to consider that a joke, but the man didn't seem to be kidding.

"Not the thing I'd expect to hear from a wizard. Either you are a pervert with a broken heart, or there is a real reason for such an response. You don't look like Aqualung to me, so what gives?"

All of my videos and evidence go public, most of them are ignored or considered hoaxes. I can't hand over the original files, ever. Bad things happens to people who do. Everyone wants to be ignorant, even when you want to tell them there really is something evil in the sewers. I will never stop trying though. His face goes grim. Too many people die because of things that go bump in the night. One night, it could be my son. His eyes became slightly red and on the verge of tearing. I mean, they could take my ex and I might pay them.

Until more people get wise, I'll just get used to being a Cassandra. Most of you guys find this place comforting or don't mind it at all. Hell, this Inn kinda of scares the shit out of me. Rafi, your a good man, but I'm pretty sure you could kill someone with a word if you had too. I couldn't handle that kind of power, I'm just a fat guy with a camera. Don't get me wrong, I am glad I found this place. At least I now know that not everyone like Rafi wants to turn me into a toad, or that things I call monsters can be pretty decent. Still, if it wasn't for the sewer beast I'd go back now. Not scared of death, just worried about my boy.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:34, Sun 03 May 2009.

Rafi broke into a grin, "Blimey, sunshine. I was kidding. Although if I was an evil shapeshifter wanting to disguise myself, what better form to take than a little girl?" He looked over at Wilford, becoming serious again,

"I'm sure your boy's fine, Wilford. Don't forget that the things you've seen, tentacle monsters and all, they're still damn rare. Most people will never see or be affected by anything hinky their entire lives." He put a hand on the man's shoulder, "You'll get back to your boy."

Speaking up for the first time in a while, Parker moves up to Wilford.

"If it is just this sewer beast that is your problem, I can go with you and assist you with it."

In an instant his appearance changes, all of the sudden he looks like a young man, much like Scott, just variances in hair and eyes.

"I don't think I would cause too much of a stir in your world."

"He could do well, just as long as he doesn't breath fire on the thing. All the organic waste down there,things could get messy."

He takes a long drag, followed by a hit of his drink.

"I wouldn't mind going back home for a bit, especially if its a few years back, but I really don't have much experience fighting things out of Japanese horror films."

"A few years back?" Rafi raised an eyebrow to Jethro, "What year did you leave?" He wondered whether Wilford was planning on leaving imminently. He hoped not as he liked the little man, but at the same time, he knew that Wilford would remain torn as long as he was worried about his son and if he wanted to go back, the dragon-borne was more than capable of helping him. Speaking of whom... he looked at the dragon-borne with a smile,

"Nice one, Parker. Although I suspect that form's a little more attractive than most who wander the sewers. Or were you thinking of going beyond the tentacle monster and up top?"

"Last time I looked at a calendar it was 2014," he said leaning back in the stool, dragging once more. "Scott said that he came from New England, 1990 something. Croix over there said it was 2008. I figured it was safe to assume at least Wilford came from around there, mainly from the make of his camera."

"I am not sure what I would do... that would depend on Wilford.  If he would want company or not.  Fortunately, this is an illusion and I can still fly, so I wouldn't have to smell like you did."

"2014?" Raf looked curiously at Jethro, then continued almost to himself, "I wonder which one?" He then focused back on Jethro, "Any big disasters around 2012?" Multiple earths were such a curious concept but he didn't like messing with time. Messing with time often turned out... messy.

"Smell?" He looked archly at Parker, "Are you saying we smell? What's wrong with cigar smoke, booze and..." He ostentatiously sniffed at his sweater, "A charming young lady from Philadelphia."

Scott had been really happy to see Wilford, and perked up when the man said New York. New York. This could help.  He'd been only half listening, tentacles in the sewers, bla bla.  As far as he had heard that would just be common place in "The" city.  And he actually though his little sister was way tougher than he ever could be. Not that he was ever going to admit that publicly or to her.

It was Parker who brought his attention back.  He hadn't noticed the little lizard in his original scan of the room. Too many new ...faces. But watching him morph.  Would a dragon know about demons?

It was either 1999 or 2002. Scott said, then added. I forget. With a shrug.  He could of course always figure it out if he worked at it, but there was little reason for him to.  He also frequently forgot the year he was born, relevant birthdays and other important dates. He just wasn't a numbers guys.

Croix was just tapping on his drum slightly and listening to the men behind him talk. When they all started mentioning the years they were in he spins around. "2008 when I left." He knew he didn't look it do to his old voodoo priest clothes, but he was from the same century as most of them.

Although he was pleased to see and speak to Wilford, when the talk turned to dates, Rafi seemed somewhat distracted. He smiled cheerily enough to the voodoo priest, introducing himself, but he looked more tired than he had earlier, more tense, his mind not entirely in the tavern. Still, he looked a curiously at Croix,

"Kin of the Baron?" He said, half a statement, half a question. He took a long drink of her beer and glanced to Scott, checking how the young man was holding up, and puffed on his cigar thoughtfully.

Looking levelly at the voodoo priest, never one to really hold his opinion to himself:

"In my world, necromancy is dark art.  A violation on the realm of the dead and a tormentor of the spirits.  Those who would so blatantly violate the dead, do not seem to care much for their fellow sentient creatures."

With a shrug he turns from and dismisses the man.

"I am the son of Samedi." Croix says with a smile tapping the drum a little faster. "You look like you might be magical yourself." As he speaks he covers one eye and breathes out heavily his other hand still tapping the drum.

"I do?" Rafi raised an eyebrow and glanced down at his sweater, his slightly battered cargo pants, "And here I was trying to blend in." He shrugged,

"I might as well smoke a bloody pipe of pipeweed, grow a long grey beard and start wearing a dress." His tone was light but at the same time, tinged with something approaching mild annoyance. He frowned a little at the man's drumming but said nothing, concentrating on his cigar. He finished the last of his scotch and motioned for the barman to pour him another. He was probably going to need it.

"A gift from my old man lets me see the supernatural." Croix still taps the drum looking to the mage. Suddently he stops and leans back to look around. "Its not realy obvious by your look or anything."

The mage shrugged. Perhaps he was being sensitive.

"Good thing too." He shook his head, smiling slightly, his voice weary, "Beards itch and I'd look bloody ridiculous in a dress." He nodded to the drum, "Did you get that from your papa too?" He frowned. Although he wasn't so outspoken as Parker, necromancy had never sat easy with him. He preferred to let the dead stay dead and found that the dead tended to feel the same way. Still, he didn't know exactly how Croix used his powers and so remained open-minded.

He shakes his head.  "The materials i made them my self and he helped me give them life, well spirit."

Necromancy? The only Baron Samedi Jethro knew about was from Live and Let Die. Thinking about it made him play the song in his head, making a note that maybe that would be a good one to play later, if the voodoo drummer could take a joke.

"20-12?  Crappy year on all accounts. But I think you must be referring to the all the superstition and Mayan hooey. There was only a slight increase in seismic activity, hurricanes, volcanic release and other things that year. The problem was that every 'disaster' released a hysteria and panic, since the world was already going to hell in certain parts."

With a smile he took a drink and looked over to Rafi. "You really should at least get the hat."

"Oh and so you know Voodoo is more than just raising the dead and doing vile acts." Croix says turning to Parker with a smile. "The zombie's i control gave themselves to my father in life and i'd never mess with a bodie that wasn't a Cheval for the loa to begin with."

With that he turns and looks to Jethro and Rafael. "I agree about the hat, though."

Rafi nodded at the priest's explanation then looked back to Jethro with a shake of his head,

"Nah, the Mayan thing was just bulls**t. Some people will get themselves into a tizzy of just about anything. It doesn't help that the media loves to stir up fear for ratings." He shrugged,

"Seems you were lucky. At least one 2012 I heard of involved the rise of millenia old vampires... one in NYC. Now that probably was something to really get scared over." He frowned a little,

"Nothing I can do about it though. Not yet, if at all. Messing with timelines in a mug's game. It's one of the only things that those tossers of the Council and I can agree upon."

"So poor wretches with nothing to loose give themselves to your father during their lives and for the rest of eternity it is fine to torture their souls?
 My ancestor was a great tyrant who killed out of greed and pleasure, I fore swore him and choose my own path.  Eventually I confronted him and..."

He holds up the jagged tooth that he has been slowly turning into a dagger.

"I know not what else you do, but from my experience, necromancy, especially that involving the bodies and souls of sentient beings is a vile and evil act without redeeming quality."

"Dead bodies have no souls." He turns back to Parker now his fingers absently drumming while he talks. "Besides your trying to make my father out to be evil. He isn't death is the most natural thing in the world, any world, and he just happens to be a god over it." Croix taps the drum three hard times and looks into Parker's eyes. "You should open your mind to the truth of things. Learn that the undead can't be tortured as their souls are long gone from their bodies, just cause movies and foul beings in your world abuse a sacred and holy magic that all users are evil, and last don't slander my father cause your to short to see things aren't black and white."

"Is it free and informed consent, however?" Rafi turned to Croix and asked quietly, "Your father is a terrifying loa to many ordinary people. They seek to propitiate him during their lifetime, to not anger him. Humans often think only of their lifetime, fearing the here and now, putting off thoughts of the future. They may feel they have to give consent. To lose one's will, to become a slave for eternity?" He shook his head.

"Maybe you're different from your papa, to other bokors I've met, but most zombi creation I've seen has been bad sh*t."

"He is terrifing because people fear death and he is death." Croix smiles. " The skeleton doesn't always do good, but he gives people a choice. You don't have to drink his rum or do his drugs and none of them have to serve him. They want to cause they revere him and his libertine ways."

Croix shakes his head and reaches into his coat pulling a small leather bag with a symbol of Legba the best of the Loa. " And with all i need is a dead bodie my drum and my voice to make the dead walk no grusome ritual or sacrifice. I guess i'm trying to make the point that you shouldn't be bias based on stupid mages and what ever the hell uses necromancy where Parker is from." He opens the bag and pulls out his pipe and a pinch of the mixed herbs and tobacco with in.

"As I said... from my experience."

His voice is cold and has a hard edge to it that was not there even when he spoke to the space marine.  He turns from the voodoo priest and back towards Wilford.

"Mr Wilford, would you like assistance?"

"I never heard of a Vampire uprising, but hell, it could have happened and just stayed low key. I'm not engrossed in the paranormal world as our sewer delver over here. Supposed vampires would not make the news considering everything else going on."

He spun on the stool and leaned against the bar to face the drummer.

"As for death, of course people are afraid of it. Its the ultimate unknown. There is n way for a normal person to know what lies past the threshold, and people always imagine the worst.  Still, benevolent necromancer sounds sort of like an oxymoron."

Rafi wasn't sure whether he was the stupid mage or not but he was too weary and distracted to argue overmuch.

"I could animate bodies and enslave minds with little more than a thought," He said quietly to Croix, "No gruesome rituals. No sacrifice. But still not right." He took a long puff of his cigar,

"I speak only by what I have seen: the enslaving of human minds by those professing to serve your father. I assumed nothing about what you personally do. If you do not do so, if you only use the empty shells of meat, then that is better, but still defies the cycle of nature. Beings are born, live, die  and their bodies return to the earth to nourish the next turn of the cycle." He shrugged across at Jethro,

"Oh you would have known. From what I've heard it was pretty spectacular."

Wilford rubbed his chin and considered the offer. He dearly wished to go home, and sooner was better that later.

I would love to accept the help, but to be honest, I feel like I need to face it alone. Fate saved my ass twice because I was too afraid. I think it is important for me to go back and see what happens. Then again, i could be crazy.

"My vote is for crazy, but hey, each has their convictions."

"It is crazy, Wilford." Rafael said sternly, "Completely nuts. You don't tempt fate a third time, chum. You can't just wander in there and hope that your courage saves you. You don't need to prove your bravery to anyone. You should accept help as offered."

Croix smiles wide. "Let me help. I can do it with out being there." The voodoo priest packs his pipe and puts away the tobacco bag. "I can give you something to help out."

I suppose you are right. I just don't want anyone else getting eaten. If you saw the blood stain and the chunk of flesh it left from it's last victim.... He trailed off, and began looking towards the window that he came through the first time he came.

"And no-one here wants you to get eaten, Wilford." Rafi said quietly,

"We all have our skills. Next time I'm in New York, I fully expect you to show me around some of the weirder places you've found. And if you get eaten, who's going to warn New Yorkers about the things that go bump ... or worse... in the night? Most people mightn't listen yet, but your friends do." He smiled slightly,

"And if nothing else, we need you to tell your pals that we're not all evil or likely to change them into toads at the drop of a wizard's hat. All pretty difficult if you're a tentacle monster's supper."

Well, if we are going to do this I guess we gotta figure out who is coming. And of course, sooner is always better than later.

Wilford slowly pointed to a window at the side of the Tavern. That is where I first entered here from the sewers. We may need to try going through that window.

((OOC: I have talked to a GM, a thread will be open as soon as we gather together and leave. Still don't know if the window will work or not though.Any and all are welcome.))

Scott had started wincing again at the conversation.  He had a very definate feeling that his life was never, ever going to be the same.

Yeah Wil. Raf's right. He looked at the wizard, then back to the man, this time intentional avoiding Raf's eyes. And we have to visit New York anyway. He said sounding far more casual than he felt.

Rafael frowned and looked at Scott. He wasn't sure how trying to persuade Wilford to accept Parker's help had become the two of them going to New York. Yes, they had to go to New York, but he wasn't entirely sure it was going to be the same one or that they were ready yet. He took a pensive drink from his pint, considering their options. Of course, going with Wilford might be fun: splatting some tentacle monster always had a certain appeal but fun wasn't at the forefront of his mind at the moment. He rose, still distracted, muttered "Need some air," and pint glass in one hand and cigar in the other, went out to the porch.

[To the Porch]

Jethro slid off the stool and headed out the tavern door, cigarette in his lips and drink in his hand.

------
To the porch
------

He lifts his drum dropping it down to the size of a tamberine. "I'm with ya sewer diver." Croix extends his hand to Wilford.

I'm willing to help you out Wilford. If you are willing to have me that is. I've had some experience with monsters before, but mostly the supernatural and mythical kind. Don't think I've encountered any with tentacles, per se. Except for Captain Cthulhu, of course.

Scott watched Rafi leave, wondering if he should follow, but was hesitant.  He kind of figured he was at least some of the cause of the guy wanting to go away and Scott couldn’t blame Raf for that.  So he was happy to see Jethro go.  He liked Jethro and after his experience in the wood, was feeling badly that he had given him such a hard time about his music.   His music was good.

Scott’s attention turned back to those present.  Glancing at Boone, he thought, well, that could explain a lot.  he’d read lots of things in books.  Always assuming it was fiction, but now. . .  there were many things he was wondering about.

So. . . have you ever run into a  a How was it pronounced? He’d always read things, not spoken of them. A. . . Ferox, an Infantia Ferox?

While Parker looks remarkable similar to Scott, his voice is still the same high pitch.

"Mr. Wilford, while seems you have your pick of willing participants, I would recommend no more than two or three go with you.  Sewers are small enclosed spaces.  If you have too many people, they will get in each others way and the chance of someone getting hurt or killed is increased."

Dave gets up from where he was sitting listening quietly shoulders his pack and rifle and heads over the the bartender.

Do you have any rooms left?

"Aye, by my count we should have a few. 5th room on the left is open. I'll put it on a tab."

Your right Mr. Parker. Rafi didn't seem to jazzed about helping, he has been a good companion, but it may be best to leave him here. Parker, I would gladly accept your help, being so quick to offer your skills. Mr. Boone, if you would really wish to come I would appreciate it. He looked to the newcomer. I appreciate that you offered, but I know of these two pretty well. Like I tell my students, I am always observing.

Thank you

Dave walks off to the room to put his stuff down

[to upstairs]

Yeah. New York. The sewers. Last time I was there, my archenemy blew away half my skull with a high-powered rifle. It hurt, but it didn't slow me down a bit - I was able to pump a half-dozen bullets straight into his heart. Problem was, it was only one of his clones. Boone sighs. Next to this place, the trials of a superhero pales immensely.

Assessing the conversation, Scott sat, drink in hand and listened.  He found it disconcerting to see the lizard as a boy, but it was more disturbing to think he'd prefer listening to a talking dragon.

As Boone spoke, his attention shifted to the man.  He stared at him a long minute when he was done before reaching for his drink and getting up.

Good luck to you guys.  He said to those assembled. They would need it.  Setting his sights on a table near the back, he paused before Parker, leaning in to speak low,  It probably didn't need be said, but he'd feel better doing it.

Not waiting for a response, he settled himself into a back table. Taking his jacket off very carefully and folding it up with an equal amount of care, he hunched back, his fingers tapping the table as he thought, making mental lists and plans.

Parker smiles at the young man giving a small laugh.  As the boy goes and sits down, Parker moves to the Bartender.  "I am going to pay the boy's bill, whatever he wants, take it out of this."  He drops a small bag of coins onto the bar.

Looking at Wilford; "Unless there is a reason to wait, we should probably get going.  Oh... by the way Boone, I have sensitive hearing, I don't relish having your extremely loud weapons deafening all of us in a tunnel.  Could you wait to see if they are necessary before using them?"

Well, alright then. I'll go get my cloths, dry or not I'm sure they will be wet again soon.

Wilford left to gather his clothes and put them back on, they were still rather damp and his shoes sloshed as he walked. It only took him ten minutes to do so.

Now, the barkeep has the gun I was given before. Otherwise I am unarmed. I figure it best if I leave it here as I was never meant to keep it. If any of you could lend me something for peace of mind before we go, I'd dance at your daughters wedding.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:22, Thu 07 May 2009.

"The mage armor that I cast upon you is still in effect, it should last at least another day or so.  As far as a more reliable and accurate weapon goes... here take this."  He pulls a small ring out of his pocket and hands the man a small gold ring.

"It is not a powerful ring, but it will fire off a blast of magical darts that will strike unerringly into a target.  It can only be used three times before needing to be recharged.  The missiles are strong enough to strike down a fair sized opponent."

[From the Porch]

Strolling in from outside, Rafael looked a little less tense as he approached the bar. He grinned at the sight of Wilford in his damp splendor and caught the end of his comment. After ordering another ale, a very large malt and a southern comfort and lime, he turned to Wilford as he waited,

"Wilford, mate." He smiled and looked a little awkward, "You know I'd come with you, but... " He frowned, "... there's something I must do. I hope you understand." He glanced at Parker, digging in his pocket and offered Wilford a small card,

"You'll be OK with the Dragon-borne and the protections I put on you earlier will still be active. And if you need me in the future, just hold this card, concentrate and say my name. I'll come to you if I can."

The mage seemed distracted still. Looking around, he spotted Scott at the back of the bar and waved at him, motioning at the young man to join him. He then looked back to Wilford, "Good luck and you'll be back with your son before you know it." Taking up the drinks, he gave a last apologetic smile to Wilford, nodded to the others and, carefully went back outside.

[To the Porch]

Scott was working on a plan, a non magical plan of course, but he thought it was a good start, when he noticed Raf's wave.  He debated a minute.  His plan wasn't fully formed, and he didn't think well around others, but if Raf beckoned, that held some weight.

Scooping up the jacket, carefully, he made his way to the porch.

[to the porch]

Responding to Parker, Boone remarks I can limit myself to using superhuman strength and my lasso, unless the use of my guns are called for. I will leave the matter to Wilford's disgression - it is his world after all.

Dave comes back down the stairs with a cigar in his mouth and he walks over to the bartender flips a few dollars onto the bar and orders a beer. He looks around the room, drinking in the atmosphere of the old building and the strangeness of the company.When he finally gets his beer he heads outside to enjoy the beauty of the scenery in the half destroyed yard of the tavern, lighting his cigar as he exits.

[to the porch}

Wazz re enters the tavern leaving the things arm outside and enters with his new hat, smiling like a child with a new toy as he makes it overly ovious what he wants people to notice.

He took the trinkets and smiled. I would hug you, but, I'm not sure your actauly as tall as you seem now.

Well, like I said, the way there should be through there. Just, use your best judgment in the sewer, no one but us should be there.

Wilford then made his way to the window he fell out of to get into the tavern. He paused and let out a deep breath before opening the window and climbing through.

Boone follows Wilford so as not to lose him.

Parker had asked around and better understood the nature of the magic portals.  As Wilford starts to exit the window, Parker grabs a hold of his leg and Boone's arm, linking all of them together.

[From the Porch]

Rafi stomped back into the main room, deep in thought and with his raven trailing after him. Glancing around, the room seemed much quieter now without Wilford, Parker or Boone. He hoped that they were safe. He nodded to the voudoun priest and flinched slightly at the sight ... and smell... of the ork, but made for the bar, ordering another round of drinks and asking about a private room.

As Scott and Jethro followed him in, Rafael nodded to them in acknowledgment,

"Drinks are on their way and we can use one of the side rooms." He shrugged, "I hated to pull you away from the porch but I guess we need somewhere we can talk properly" Even then, the barkeep slid over another Southern Comfort and Lime, a couple more pints and whiskey.

"C'mon then amigos," He took up one of the pints and a malt and threaded his way through the main bar to one of the rooms to the side.

[To Side Room 1]

Jethro took his drink and followed suit, taking note that the cowboy, kobold and fellow hat aficionado were nowhere to be seen.

>Side room 1>

The orc decides to sit at a table and note any rumors that could lead to an adventure.

Kisa entered the tavern and smiled at the people in there. She took a seat and ordered a drink, anything would be nice at this point, but she still had that friendly smile on her face. She drank her drink in silence as she didn't want to gather too much attention by speaking.

Wazz grabs a piece of bone from his belt and starts carving into it with the edge of his axe, some times missing and hitting the table that harm him becuase of the magic of this place againts violence, but he doesn't seem to notice.

"What can I get ya young miss?"

Dave walks over to the bar and orders another drink, when he gets it he goes and puts it down on the same table the redhead is at. Then he looks around the room to get a feel of whats going on and see who is doing what.
Its far too quiet for tavern full of patrons, lets see if we can't mix things up a bit

Dave spreads his arms wide, his voice fills the tavern
Ladies and gentlemen, travelers from far and wide,

He gestures tword himself, then uses his hands to accentuate his speech

I have a challenge for you, each and every one of you! But first

Dave pulls out a roll of bills and walks over to the bartender

Drinks all around

Walking in after Kisa and Dave, Nasir al-Din al-Salih had to stop and take in the sheer strangeness of his surroundings. The place looked like the descriptions of Frankish inns he had heard in tales from the West, although with fewer stains and without the pervading smell of horses. It could, he admitted, almost exist in the real world. But what clearly could not were the denizens of this place. Apart from Dave and Kisa, who at least looked relatively normal, there was a man standing serving drinks and appearing to chew on a rather unpleasant looking roll of leaves; a midget passed out in the corner; a most peculiar looking man idly tapping a drum and, sitting at a table, some kind of monster out of the old stories. The last, at least, could not be real, although the stench emanating from him seemed real enough.

He blinked, shook his head, closed his eyes and opened them again, but the scene did not change. He knew he had the choice to either go insane or go with the flow, and the latter seemed a little more acceptable. If nothing else, he was too curious to curl up in a corner and pretend it away. Smiling a little to himself, he decided to put right his existing mistakes and then see what happened. Thus, with a few steps, he approached where Kisa had taken a seat and made a sweeping bow to her,

"Lady Kisa, I wish to apologize for my earlier rudeness." He looked to her and smiled, "I can only claim disorientation and a complete, if temporary, loss of my faculties due to ..." He frowned, looking a little forlorn for a moment, ".... due to whatever happened to me." He looked to both Dave and Kisa,

"I should have introduced myself properly. I am Nasir al-Din al-Salih Hasan ibn `Abd Allah ibn al-Rashid al-Haqimi al-Waziri al-Qaysi" He rattled off the inordinately long name with practiced ease then just as quickly shrugged it away, "You may call me Nasiriddin, however. Most people prefer that."

Wazz reacts in two ways: One he walks over to the bar and cheers for the man who just got drinks all around and pats him roughly on the back and then he can't help but ask. What is your Challenge humie? Whatevea it is it can't be to difficult.

Kisa looked at the barkeep. "I'll just have a beer." She said to him and looked to Nasiridden and smiled. "It's fine. I'm new around here too. I'm not sure of everything as it is, but I'm not a slave or anything...I'm just me." She said on another smile.

Drawing a beer from a tap, he puts it in front of the young lady.

"We accept almost all manner of payments miss."

Looking at the swarthy man,

"How about you?  Do ya need somethin ta drink?  This is neutral ground, we serve your kind in here without a problem."

Kisa smiled and laughed. "Thanks, get him a beer too, I'm paying." She said and pulled out some golden coins from her pocket and put them on the bar. "This fine, or do I need to give you something else?" Even though the Barkeep had said any form of cash, there still could be exceptions to that rule.

He takes the gold coin and hands back a small handful of silver.

"This is fine."

Looking at Nasir he gives a knowing smile.

"So, duz ya want a beer or would ya want something else?"

"My kind?" Nasiraddin frowned in renewed confusion that the large man seemed to know what he was but before he spoke, the young woman piped up and ordered him a beer. Now his frown turned into astonishment: he couldn't remember when... no, he knew that a woman had never offered to buy him a drink before.

"Thank you, Kisa," He bowed to her slightly then looked over to the barkeep,

"You have something else?"

Kisa smiled and nodded as she drank her beer in silence. She wondered about some of these people in this place.

The Orc go's back to carving like before on a piece of bone in his pocket in silence waiting for something interesting to happen, or for someone to say something stupid to him.

"We have anything you might need feller."

Jethro comes out from the side room and grabs his guitar and case. HE then walks over to the bar and leans over, grabbing a pair of tongs.

He tips his hat to everyone and heads back to the side room

>Side Room 1>

Gets up and leaves a carving with the man who offered the challenge that says. "Yellz out Hakka Dakka and ill find ya" He then leaves to the other room to see what the others are up to. >Side Room 1>

"Then I will have a little of what I need" Nasiraddin said with a hint of astonishment in his voice. He waited at the bar, still not quite believing and when the drink came, took the tiniest of sips. He raised the glass slightly towards Kisa,

"Thank you."

The halfling's head shot up and his eyes sprang open. His face and bear chest covered in sweat. He blinked his eyes a few times to look around the tavern. Looks like the whiskey took me under further than I thought. He said out loud, to no one really.

He sat himself up, recovering from the dreams he was having. He rubbed his eyes with his hands and let out a yawn. Once more he looked around the inn, he was pretty sure the people he was talking with had went about their business.

Kisa smiled to him. "No problem. That's what friends do." She said and continued on with her drink. She thought about a lot of things, and wondered if her travels were worth it.

"If anyone is hungry, Cookie still has roast on as well as a full range of other foods."

In reply to Kisa (msg #300):

Nasiriddin looked at Kisa quizzically, Friends? This was a strange place indeed. He took a seat opposite her,

"So, if you do not mind, perhaps you could tell me a little about yourself and about this place? Do you know why we might be here... wherever here is?"

[From the side room 1]

"Oh don't tempt me," Raphael said to the barkeep as he reemerged from the side room, "But we've got to be off again. If my friend ever turns up, tell him I'll be back. Probably." Nodding to the people in the bar, he saluted the barkeep and walked out onto the porch.

[To the Porch]

Kisa smiled at him. "Well, I'm Japanese/American, as you can see. I'm well different from a lot of people. Mythical almost, though no, I don't know why we are here. I travel a lot so it is normal for me to pass through different towns." She stated.

"Japanese American?" Nasiriddin shook his head. He couldn't see that at all. He didn't know what she was talking about. "What is a Japanese American?" He smiled wryly and shrugged slightly,

"Although I will admit that you that you are definitely different from people I know. I have traveled some and heard of other places. Perhaps we might have been somewhere in common?" Perhaps that might give him a clue what might have happened.

[From Side Room]

Scott was trailing out behind Raf. Distracted and his mind in overload.  He vaguely overhead 'Japanese American,' glancing her way and wondering when?  But then there were so many questions buzzing around his brain, nothing lasted for long.

He paused for a second, thinking.  Rafi was out of sight by the time he sighed again.  With a shake of his head, he kept following.

[To the Porch]

With his guitar packed, Jethro left the side room and returned to the bar proper and placed his empty glass on the bar.

He paused for a little bit, looking at the present company in the bar, then he headed out after the others.

>>To the porch>>

Dave trying to keep with the grandiose style he began to issue his challenge with grabs his drink and takes a big gulp, and begins to cough having inhaled some of the beer spending the next few moments coughing a sputtering.

Serving a drink at a near by table, she couldn't help but see Dave begin to choke.   Setting aside her tray, she patted the man on the back, Ya okay, mate? She asked a bit meekly, her accent heavy.

She placed a glass of water down in front of him, in case he prefered, and shot a glare around the room at the other inconsiderate sods that hadn't seemed to be interested in helping the poor chap.

Wazz decides to let the matter be and except this humans challenge, he walks in a straight line to the man. You keep sayin dat you have a challenge, well what is it? I do have tings to do ya know.

Nasiraddin had looked over as Dave started coughing but the buxom young server seemed to have it in hand. When the thing - he had no idea what it could be - mentioned a challenge, he raised an eyebrow at the man,

"A challenge, Master Dave?" He shook his head and then stood and looked at Wazz Hakka,

"I apologize if this seems like a stupid question but you are clearly a sentient being" Of a sort, "But may I ask what are you?" He then frowned and bowed shallowly to the foul smelling being and rattled off his full name again, finishing it with a "But you can call me Nasiriddin."

What I iz is da toughest and meanest ting around, don't let anyone tell ya oda wise. Orcs is da best at everyting. He simply brags this as easily as he can breath.

"Orcs?" Nasiriddin looked to Wazz Hakka, an amused smile on his face, "Is that your name or your... type? I must admit I have heard of neither."

Wazz with a slightly agitated look trys explaining again. I am an orc, the best fighta in da world. My name iz Wazz Hakka Da Cleaver on account of how I kill me enemys.

Nasiraddin raised an amused eyebrow to the orc,

"The best fighter in the world? Indeed, some of my friends would love to meet you, master orc," He bowed his head to him, still smiling,

"Nonetheless, it is an honor to meet you, Wazz Hakka Da Cleaver." He glanced to the orc's headgear, "I take it that it one your enemies?"

Dave finishes coughing and sputtering, looking a little red in the face and slightly out of breath

Thank you Miss, I'm fine
Dave says to the tavern wench as he takes a small sip from the offered glass of water

Sorry about that,
Dave raises his voice so everyone can hear him
my challenge is for everyone to tell a story of some sort. Since everyone is apparently from different places and times, the most entertaining, creative, and unusual story wins. What you win, is for me to pick up your room and tab. seeing as I am judging I will not be partaking in the challenge, though if you all wish, I will tell one when all is said and done. The barkeep here will help me by giving his objective opinion on each tale.

Bragging and story telling was almost another language for Wazz, his eyes grew alittle brighter as the thought of how easy this task would be for him.

What do we get if we win humie?

Kisa watched Nasir, as he beganto speak to the Orc, she knew orcs well. She smiled and continued with her beer.

Nasiraddin noticed Kisa's glance and winked at her, "So are you going to tell us a tale, miss? Of your travels perhaps?"

Kisa looked at Nasir and smiled. "Well, I don't know. I'm sure no one wants to hear of my travels." She stated and took another drink.

Oooh stories! With the man okay, she had started to go about her business, but now hugged her tray and hopped upon a barstool. I love stories.  She glanced about, she was sure there was some good ones here.

Do tell us, miss!  Then it be your turn. She laughed and poked Croix.  He'd have good stories too she bet.  The orc didn't look like he'd need prompting.  She settled in.

Kisa smiled and shrugged. "Alright...though I'm sure that you and Nasir are the only ones that want to hear."

Sits in a chair and waits for the human to tell her story, as patiently as a orc CAN that is.

Jethro enters the tavern proper and and goes over to the bar.

"Keep, we are trying to get to Scott's home. Do you know any way for us to do such?"

In reply to Wazz Hakka Da Cleaver (msg #323):

As Kisa did not immediately start, and sensing the orc's impatience - which was probably not a good thing - Nasiraddin stepped in,

"Master Wazz Hakka, perhaps while the lady formulates the perfect story, you will honor us with a story of your own. I am sure you have a great number of wonderful tales of your own bravery." He glanced to Kisa and winked to her.

Dave looks at Jethro

Leaving? well good luck on your quest then, and if you need anything let me
know.

Then he looks at Kisa

I'm interested in your story, if you want to tell it that is.