In reply to Greb (msg # 245):
Apologies Greb. I've been a bit under the weather for a few weeks. I'm unsure why you are at the Wayfarer's Inn, though I welcome you to be here. Did your game end? Are you seeking to find a new one?
You suddenly appear in an area void of color and of which everything that you do see appears in shades of gray. It is bitterly cold. Before you materializes an immense building that appears as if it has continuously been added on to for many years ambles about the yard like an apparition with many arms. A ragged sign beside the entrance announces the establishment to be the Wayfarer’s Inn. If the building is the first thing to capture your notice, then the eight roads that come in from all angles like the spokes of a great wheel are the second thing that attracts your attention. Each road only goes a few hundred yards before vanishing in the mist and fog that utterly hides the surrounding countryside.
The drab dark grey shingles drip drops of water on the soggy ground below as if either heavy dew or a light rain occurred. Looking aloft, you see that the overhead sky is as dull and grey as your surroundings. Thick heavy rain clouds loom ominously above, and appear to move very slowly as if no wind could possibly push their bulk onward. A whinny comes forth. The sound comes from the other side of the inn letting you know that life does exist on this plane; a hopeful sign indeed.
Looking more carefully at the walls of the inn you notice that there are quite a few windows, but all let out no light as there seem to be hung across them thick hide coverings. A waft of smoke rising from one of the many extensions, and the smell of bear stew lets you know that within is at least a warm hearth and a hot meal.
Time has come to a standstill and you neither care nor desire to know what the hour is, or what day, week or year it may happen to be. You can choose to wear what you like for the temperature here will always stabilize so you will always feel comfortable. Step forth now and usurp your destiny!
(The inns door faces north, and the inn is like the hub of a wheel. The roads leading away from it are like the spokes of a wheel. The north road runs smack into the door of the inn. Clockwise, the roads are northeast, east, southeast, south, southwest, west, and northwest; respectively. The lands between the roads vary with one direction leading off to the oceans, another into the swamps, hills, mountains, forests, and etc.. If you choose to wander about this plane, you'll have to discover these areas for yourself.)
The minute the door becomes even the slightest bit opened, a cacophony of sound is emitted. To begin to describe the chaos that is the Wayfarer’s Inn one must not look inside and expect to see a room of set dimensions. No, one must put perceptions of normality aside, and just accept that the inn simply is whatever size it needs to be at any given moment.
With that aside, you see the inn bustles with activity as patrons unlike you’ve ever seen call out to the serving staff for food and drink; typical of any inn-like environment, but very much atypical in its clientele. The gleaming polished bar seems to go on forever, and the kegs are stacked so high you wonder if the place even has a ceiling. But surely, though skepticism pervades, there is indeed one up there somewhere?
Tankards clink as people fellowship in cheerful camaraderie at tables of all shapes, heights and sizes. Cubby hole alcoves can be found down the outer walls where games of chance are always in full swing. If you head towards any of the many corners of the room you are sure to find some form of entertainment from bardic serenades to plays or even small circus acts.
(OOC: I’ll not be delivering drinks and food to characters, if you desire to actually talk to the serving staff, then I’ll NPC the talk, but as far as basic services go, it is an assumed thing that this is always happening. This inn is the chat room for players to engage in roleplay among themselves until they take off on an adventure. It is the trading post, the crafting hall, and will serve as the place all business is conducted. Have fun!)
You approach what can only be described as an ancient being of a life form unknown to you. The being looks up as you attract his attention, and though the being appears human, its constantly shifting outline clearly indicates it’s not. The beings wrinkly skin is of a yellowish color liken to one that is jaundiced. Milky eyes that once were a pale green peer out beneath a heavy brow crowned with bristling white eyebrows. Whitish-grey stubble can be seen along the beings jaw line, and chin, and there is a faint trace of an equally colored, and recently trimmed mustache.
At first you thought the Keeper was sitting, but as he approaches the counter, you see that the being is merely hunched over as if the weight of the universes is weighing down on his shoulders. The clothing of the being, leather jerkin shirt, breeches, and low boots are nondescript and neutral tan in color.
The Keeper pours you a frothy mug of beer.
The Keeper here, who's name isn't affiliated with your former GM, tells you about the inn and the Netherworld Plane. If you haven't looked this over, here is a link that tells you all about this place, and more. link to a message in this game. Also, all "talk" with the Keeper is done telepathically.
