The Tangled Vine Tavern

Peasant Posts : 14 Join date : 2010-11-06

The Tangled Vine Tavern is a small cave-like structure nestled into a thicket of tall grass, thorns and poisonous plants due east of Shademoor in the Wildmead Forest. Every creature, whether big or small, young or old, are more than welcome to step inside this rundown tavern. Unlike other taverns scattered throughout the land, brawls are not uncommon in this establishment. Prices for drinks and food are dirt cheap as they are not the best food and drinks in the land.

As for the patrons, they come as seedy as they can get. The tavern’s regulars include assassins, hit men, prostitutes, con artists, murderers, bounty hunters and some who are not all there in the head. If mouths are kept shut, other patrons are lucky to leave alive or not injured in the slightest.

The ambience inside the tavern is frightening to say the least. Skulls of those who became lost in the forest and never returned are tacked up onto the walls. Creaky, wooden tables and chair are scattered about inside the tavern - each table with a single kerosene lamp and a couple of cloth napkins. Kerosene lamps are also up against the walls and hanging from the ceilings, giving a soft golden glow inside.

The Tangled Vine Tavern Skulldivider

Subject: Re: The Tangled Vine Tavern Tue Nov 09, 2010 6:47 am

As a sudden yelling can be heard from the sky a space-time rift opens up dumping Elysmeria's newest resident near the tavern. As the skeleton falls out clad in his traditional black suit and his Soul Robber coiled on his arm he frowns seeing the rift close. Taking his bony hand to his skull he frowns before standing up out of the poisonous shrubs, which couldn't affect someone who couldn't be poisoned.

"Oh... What happened? What is this place?"

Looking around Jack felt a sensation in the rift similar to when he had visited other holidays, but not only had he not entered the Hinterlands to find a holiday door, he was in a world unlike anything he'd ever seen. Looking over to the nearby tavern, the Pumpkin King rose to his feet before shrugging

"Not exactly a pleasant place, but maybe someone inside can help me."

Walking into the pub, Jack looks around and chuckles softly at the foolish attempts to try and scare the Master of Terror

Subject: Re: The Tangled Vine Tavern Wed Nov 10, 2010 10:14 am

After being shoved, threatened, and insulted, the Pumpkin King walks out of the tavern back through to poisoned thicket clearly insulted.

"Ingrates. Not a gentleman among them. Perhaps somewhere else I can find solace and some answers."

Walking for a while Jack's svelte figure fades off into the distance as he leaves the godforsaken land.

Administrator Posts : 7 Join date : 2010-11-10

"Tangled Vine Tavern..." The Female said with a slight ironic tone to her voice; her every syllable notably annoyed with the one place she were rather stuck with for that eve. Violet orbs flickered about the Gypsy's foreign surroundings as she heard the commotion within the walls; men shouting, wenches laughing, and glasses breaking. Oh, this was definitely not going to be that dull of an evening.

Slender fingers brushed her onyx locks from her pale complexion as she felt the Father Wind whisper an omen of warning upon her fair ears. The creature waved it aside as nothing more than the mere usual hijinx that occurs around unwashed cesspools such as this. Upon her rather inconspicuous entrance she scrunched the bridge of her nose as her sense were assaulted with the scents of stale tobacco, ale and poor hygiene. Some of the patrons stopped to peer at the obviosu outlander, but they just shrugged and went about their business.

Astrid rolled her eyes as she boots clicked against the floor of the Tavern; her hips swaying like a pendulum, making her way towards an empty booth near the hearth. She wasn't sure how the Hell she were brought to this realm, -Everything happens for a reason-, she heard her Nana's voice loud and clear as memories of her teachings flounced across the creature's mind. Knowing the fates could be cruel at times, all this Elementalist wished for was to return home to her caravan post haste. Come hail, rain, or shine she will return to her land, and seeing that this place was practically a house of ill repute-she was certain she'd be able to provide some sort of trade or service that would gain her the knowledge she sought. All she had to do was wait for the opportunity to present itself.

With that in mind she beckoned for a glass of ale as she propped her boots atop the table, her hands folding upon her belly as she leaned back against her seat. Her fingers rapped lighting against the black satin corset that adorned her upper region, a simple protection amulet hung loosely about her neck and stopped just at the bust. Whenever she would move into the light at an angle, one could see the cats eye burning within, the flames providing a warning to any that would wish her harm. By this places standards by appearance? Those were going to be a dime a dozen.

Peasant Posts : 5 Join date : 2010-11-07 Age : 30

Filthy. Absolutely filthy. The spider web clad walls, the uncannily sticky floor, the toothless, smelly people, the brackish, piss-prominent ale; all of it. Filthy. The ambiance of the tavern--if it could even be called ambiance--was blatantly resonant, and not in a pleasing aspect of the word. Men shouted, women squealed, and it there was not a thing to stop them from doing so. The constituents of the tavern attenders weren't, by definition, the friendliest group. On more than one occasion, Alhazred had received an askance, almost afraid glare from one of the women, and more than a handful of sneers from the scruffy looking men. He gave them a statuesque glare in return, unblinking silver eyes pressed into them, and more often then not, the humans would be the ones who found themselves looking away. The sword at his belt clicked as he shifted uncomfortably on the wooden bench, and he felt the room tense as he reached to readjust the seating of his scabbard. A collection of sighs rained from the crowd as he withdrew his hand and tossed his black cloak nonchalantly over his right shoulder.

Not two seconds after Alhazred had finally gotten himself reasonably comfortable upon the wooden bench, a crash could be heard from the front of the establishment. The people who sat across from him at a booth blanched a comical white at the sound, and small whispers could be heard from the group. Something about, "not looking them in the eyes". Yells rang out after the crash, then laughter. Alhazred could already tell that a group of regulars had come to pay their daily respects to the tavern. A group of five men came bumbling in, a harlot dressed in extravagant, almost neon clothes hanging on each one of their arms, and the unmistakable air of booze flooded the draconian's nostrils. They all looked to be drunk, their faces pink with the bliss of alcohol. The whores and the cutthroats imparted a few whispers to each other before several of the women broke off sending winks and exaggerated kisses towards the men who's arms they'd left.

The men and women who still sat across from him at the booth gave an almost sympathetic stare towards the draconian, but then quickly focused their attention downwards at what must've been an extremely interesting piece of graffiti scribbled on the table. The five men, and now only two women stumbled in front of Alhazred's table, and they all looked towards him as if they'd found shit in their soup--an event that undoubtedly had happened in this place.

"The fuck is this poncy doin' at ow table?" said a stocky man, a gnarled beard on his face; no whore at his side.

He spoke loud enough that one of the serving wenches, a young girl with bouncing golden locks came by and bowed profusely, and glared at Alhazred as if it was somehow his fault that he had chosen that exact table on that exact day at that exact time. She waved for the draconian, pleadingly. "Please come this way, er, sir. We'll find you another table, shall we?" she gave him a weak smile. Alhazred shook his large head in decline, and the serving wench paled. She had no time to make any protests as she was shouldered aside by one of the men in the group.

"Dead man," Alhazred heard in whispers through the silence around him, and "What a fool" was another crowd favorite.

One of the men with a whore on his arm still slammed his fist on the table in front of Alhazred, remarkably making the mug jump, as well as most of the occupants of the tavern, "Liste' to me you scaly . . . fuck!" he said. His shaved head actually gave him a sort of intimidating posture. "This 'ere . . . is owah table. Idn't dat right boys?" he got a salvo of howls in response. "Now, it'd be . . . in your best interest," he wobbled slightly, "to vacate our sitting space."

Alhazred looked up at the bald man, finally, his steely eyes penetrating into his face. The man flinched, but did not relent. The draconian sighed, and gestured to the seats next to, and across from him. "You're welcome to sit. No one is stopping you."

Instead of seeing it as a diplomatic offer, as it was somewhat intended, the shaved man interpreted as some sort of snide remark. His face grew red astonishingly quick, and he slammed his meaty fist down on the table once more, causing half empty mug of ale to jump again. He slapped the mug away into an empty booth, the brownish liquid flying everywhere. "Maybe you 'idn't hear me. This 'ere," he spoke as he raised his arm from around his whore as he balled it into a fist, "IS OWAH TABLE!" he barreled forward with a haymaker.

In a flash of black and white, Alhazred's left hand shot forth from his cloak and snatched the man's wrist, his fist stopping just short of his muzzle. Decidedly having had enough, the draconian stood to his full height. Even the tallest man of the group stood a diminutive stump beneath his oppressive frame. Having been taken somewhat off guard, the shaved man didn't expect to be so suddenly lifted into the air by his arm, his feet dangling a good half foot from the tavern floor, nor did he expect the bone cracking force in his stomach to be Alhazred's fist. He gagged on his own tongue from shock, and the draconian flung him across the room so he tumbled to the floor, vomiting and clutching his stomach in pain. The other members of the pack hesitated for only a second before they rushed him.

They had surrounded the table, and were attempting to close in from both sides, but that only bottlenecked their efforts. Alhazred raised his foot against the lip of the table and heaved against the two men across from him, taking them by surprise as well, their hips pinned against the booth that was behind them. If the yelling hadn't caught everyone's attention, the screech of the table across the floor certainly did. Everyone's eyes were locked upon the looming white figure as he grabbed the man on his right by his throat, hefting him into the air with ease. The man on the other side of the table stood dumbstruck, not exactly certain what he could do at this point.

A familiar voice spat, "You fool! Use your dagger! Kill the fucker!"

The man who was still standing on his feet padded down his body in his drunken stupor, searching for where he could've possibly hid his knife. With enough fumbling through his pockets, he finally located it and unsheathed it with a victorious "Aha!" only to find that the draconian was staring at him with his arms folded, his comrade nowhere insight. There were, however, a large amount of mugs spilled over on the bar counter, and a faint moaning could be heard. The man dropped his dagger and scrambled for the door. Alhazred made no move to stop him as he took two steps towards the man on the ground. "You can have your table back, now."

Administrator Posts : 7 Join date : 2010-11-10

"Oh bloody Hell..." The female whispered as she lifted her frothy glass of ale from the battered table; her eyes shifting to that of the stranger Draconian that seemed to be handling himself rather well. Astrid was just grateful her drink didn't spill, but her violent orbs flickered about the commotionw with great amusement. With a snort she leaned towards that of a burly man to her right, his hands were balled into fists as he mimicked each punch thrown, cheering on the ones that were brawling.

"20 silver pieces on the over sized goat.." She replied, her tone full of sheer amusement.The Man let out a chuckle as he nodded in agreement, "You're on, Lass..." He chuckled hoarsely as he went about being the spectator towards this show of male testosterone.

Astrid let out a soft laugh as she watched the last man standing flee the place as if it were hosed down with the black death. However, with the way this placed look, it did look like the hospice for those dying of some sort of malignant epidemic. If being unable to use a basin of water and soap was an epidemic...

The Gypsy stood to her feet as she rubbed her hands against the onyx leather fabric of her pants; her hand-palm up reaching forth towards the gent she made the wage with. "Pay up, Old Father Time." She flashed a sardonic smile as the man quite begrudgingly dropped the silver upon her greedy little hand. "Bitch.." He barked as he moved towards the opposite end of the Tavern, most likely to drown his humiliation in the one cruel temptress that would allow his lips near her vessel.

"Victory is mine." She mused to herself as a loud crash soon was heard, her attentions quickly snapping towards the brutes that had broken free from their confinement. Bent on rectifying their humiliation at all costs.

Astrid lifted her left hand as she quirked a brow, "angajarii a daunatorilor", she commanded firmly. The sounds of twigs cracking outside the window now echoed throughout the Tavern; vines burst through the window as they wrapped about the males with a constricting embrace, slamming their forms to the ground as they entwined about their appendages. "Tut tut...I think you two have humiliated yourself enough here, Kittens." Lowering her hand she switched her gaze to that of the Draconian.

"You definitely know how to make a scene..." She smiled as she played with the bounty in her right hand, she were glad that she was able to make some profit off of this. Foreign or not, every Kingdom responded the same way towards making a bit of quick wealth on something so easy to bet on. "Perhaps you and I can work something out." The female winked suggestively as she turned about, sauntering back to her table in hopes this male would follow her and listen to what she had to offer.

Peasant Posts : 14 Join date : 2010-11-06

Thea slammed her right fist onto the bar counter, her blood beginning to boil. As much as she didn’t care for the behavior of her patrons, there were a couple of things that irked her. With a smirk plastered on her face, she dropped her dirty washrag onto the counter - her turquoise eyes locked on a couple of patrons. Her slender frame covered in a black body suit came barreling around the corner of her bar and made a bee line for the two patrons - whom were in a very heated make-out session in her tavern. Flashing a fake smile to them, she reached over and tapped the male on the shoulder. The male didn’t answer. Her fake smile slowly faded as she continued to tap the male on the shoulder for a good 2 or 3 minutes. Still nothing. She couldn’t wait any longer. She let out a loud, frustrated sigh before gripping the female’s shoulder and pulling her away from the male. The male and female glared at Thea, muttering vulgar sentences at her. Her lips curled into a cruel smile as her eyes bounced back and forth between the two of them.

“For fuck’s sake…If you want to get into the woman’s panties…I suggest you take your tramp elsewhere. Understood?” she barked at them, her hand moving down to her hip - over her dagger just in case things got rowdy.

The couple nodded their head vigorously before stumbling to get up and bolted out the door. Thea dropped her hand down to her side as she gave the rest of the tavern a triumphant grin. Placing her hands on her hips, she marched right back to her bar counter and continued to wipe it down - taking orders and making drinks. Her eyes stayed upon the patrons, some talking, some drinking and others even fighting with magic. She couldn’t help but canter her head to one side as she slid a glass of ale to a customer, watching the customers fight with magic.

Subject: Re: The Tangled Vine Tavern Tue Nov 23, 2010 10:39 am

Haldir stepped through the doors of the tavern. His long ruby red hair sat on the shoulders of his sky blue Kimono. His right arm was curled around his mid section holding up an umbrella. His jade eyes scanned the area looking at the people that reside within this tavern.

His cherry lips curled up into a smile while he walked farther in. He sat down upon a single bar stool and lifted his right leg up over his left and gently rested the back pit of his right knee on his left knee. His geka hanged off his foot only staying on because of the strap that held them on. His alabaster skin looked soft like a new borns flesh.

Haldir lightly leaned back as he lightly lowered the closed umbrella to the ground resting it against the bar table. The elbows of his arms gently rested themselves upon the bar table holding haldir up. His hands laying limp like dead limbs. Until he lifted his right hand up and began to examine his clear polished nails.

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