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 Post subject: Re: The Running Stag in #7
PostPosted: August 6th, 2012, 1:30 pm 
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"*Its* civilised enough to pay for its drinks when they arrive. Which is more than anyone can say for you." A sailor two seats down muttered to Ian before adding with a smirk, "Only just arrived and it already has more friends than you do."

 

***

 

A quiet moment passed before the woman decided to give her name; Hazeeb waited patiently and drew from his pipe.

"My name is Cora." The woman announced simply, then added "Just Cora."

"An interesting name: Cora. It is very short. Do all of the white skinned barbarians have such simple names?"

The curious look on Cora's face hardened in reply. She didn't reply and crossed her arms over her bosom, staring hard at Hazeeb through his smoke. It was very effective. Hazeeb felt discomfort under her gaze and reflected on what he'd said. Apparently the people didn't take too kindly to being called 'barbarians' in the northern lands. He made a note to avoid using that term again.

"My apologies, Cora. I am not used to northern...customs. I merely meant that, in the south, names are used differently. They are much longer as well."


That did the trick. Cora relaxed and unfolded her arms, leaning in slightly and nodding. "So, what's yours then?" She asked curiously.

Hazeeb smiled at the woman. He took a moment to answer her, enjoying another swig of his Ale and smoking first. He let the smoke seep slowly through his lips as he spoke.

"In the Shining South I am called Araphyr yn Hazeeb al Inneen. I have had others, but that is the one I chose for myself." Seeing her confusion, Hazeeb began to elaborate.

"You see, Cora, in Calimshan names are very important. They do more than simply tell a person who we are. A Calashite name also tells of rank and position, titles, and family connections. They are long and difficult to pronounce because they have many parts. The first portion is a person's title. The second and third parts are their personal name and the name of their parents. The final part is the family house."

Cora looked confused again. Hazeeb decided to illustrate. "Here, I shall show you what i mean. Tell me your mothers name. All of it. As well as yout title here."

"Well...me mum's name was Mona Relyna. And I'm one 'o the beer wenches, I suppose." Cora couldn't help but grit her teeth saying that.
 
Hazeeb thought for a moment, contemplating Cora's name. "In my tongue your name would be: Lekn Alekhadem Cora yr Mona al Relyna. In your tongue it means Ale Server Cora, Daughter of Mona, of the Relyna family."
 
"Gods! That's...complex." Cora gasped. The length of her name in Calishite was confusing and thrilling to hear at the same time. "So, what's yers mean then? And hey now! You didn't answer me first question. I've never seen nuthin' like ya in these parts after all."
 
Hazeeb chuckled at her memory; sharp. He lifted and tipped his ale, draining the last of it before placing it in front of Cora and reaching into his pocket. He removed a single gold coin this time and set it beside the glass. "In order to get those answers, you'll have to help me get another Orange Ale first."
 
Cora promptly grabbed his glass and the single gold piece without a word and scooted back to the bar, leaving Hazeeb to sit alone in his hazy cloud for the time being.

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"Nothing is impossible, what you want is simply expensive." -The Unofficial Artificer Player's Guide.


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 Post subject: Re: The Running Stag in #7
PostPosted: August 30th, 2012, 6:48 pm 
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Ion had just left the checkpoint for the local guards and even though he wasn't employed by the Waterdeep Guards they still took his offer of help....and his charity of free labor. Of course the Guard Captain warned him about OVER doing it by beating wrong doers bloody.

He cursed himself for being here on this chilly winter and cursed the Wizards for not holding back the storm. The day was so far eventful. A few thefts here and there, a mugger that was beaten bloody by Ion and some minor complaints about the drunks. Just as he was about to turn in for the rest of the day a rumor was floating around about some local punk named Ian was going to start a brawl with some half-dragon.
Ion knew little of Ian, only that he was a fool. He whistled and some a loud pounding sound was echoing through the ally as the very large rhino ran towards his master call.

The awes and looks of the people on the street as he mounted and soon took off for The Running Stag. Minutes based and Ion hopped that Ian started a fight, the blonde man NEEDED some action and his hand twitched with the desire to punch someone.
Arriving at the Inn the Paladin dismounted Jury and pushed the doors open hard enough the slammed against the wall.

The sight the greeted him was not over turn chairs or broken bottles and people knocked out but one of calm and collected. He noticed Ian with a bloody nose and the half-dragon talking to a server girl. The Inn was quiet when this tall brute stormed in but after a few of the residents noticed it was only Ion a few erupted into laughter.

"Your a bit late for the fight Ion" one man shouted

"Who knows it is ION were talking about he might start the fight" another laughed

"Careful now not to displease the mighty Ion" a thris shouted

"Yeah keep your mouths a runnin' and watch how fast they are rendered silent" Ion spoke shaking his fist a smile plastered on his face.

Making his way to the Half-Dragon Ion extended his metal gloved hand.
"I am Ion Lightsavior it is a pleasure to meet another from a different land. Do you mind sharing a table and a few drinks. On me of course." He bowed his head.

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The Blackest Night falls from the skies,
The darkness grows as all light dies,
We crave your hearts and your demise,
By my black hand, the dead shall rise!


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 Post subject: Re: The Running Stag in #7
PostPosted: September 1st, 2012, 3:25 am 
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Hazeeb quietly regarded the white man standing before him with speculative eyes. Ion bowed, showing respect when he introduced himself. That alone was enough to earn him a seat at his table.

"Well met sire."
Hazeeb replied through a fresh cloud of smoke. "Join me if you wish...but I doubt I share your pallet."

He nodded to the empty seat across the table. Cora hadn't returned with his ale, but he doubted it would take long. Hazeeb examined the knight as he took his seat. The armor he wore was interesting: Inky black, spiked and dangerous. Hazeeb doubted an encounter with this man would end well if decided to grapple his opponent. The design and craftsmanship was of singular quality. He quietly appraised it to see what he could recognize [Knowledge: Architecture & Engineering, Religion].

"You wear armor crafted by one following my Deity, Knight...Excellent, sturdy construction...Properly maintained...Dwarven as well, I believe.

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"Nothing is impossible, what you want is simply expensive." -The Unofficial Artificer Player's Guide.


Last edited by The Stripey One on September 7th, 2012, 5:14 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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 Post subject: Re: The Running Stag in #7
PostPosted: September 3rd, 2012, 12:35 am 
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Ion sat down while the dragon looked him up and down seemingly impressed. Settling his weight in the chair the Paladin reached behind him pulling out his huge maul and setting it upside down on the floor, the wooden shaft sticking straight up.

"Aye its Dwarven. Crafted by a Dwarf whose name, I'm sorry to say I wont mention, of Gond crafted this suit its helm and Judge" As Ion mentioned Judge he tilted his head to side as if to mention it was his weapon

"I am a Paladin of Tyr our God of Justice" He stated proudly siting straight up and puffing his chest up to make him seem larger. He already had a sly smile on his face as he hoped to see a confused look flash across the dragons face for he looked more like some evil being then one of righteous fury.

"I keep this armor polished, scrubbed and maintained. Pride is sin of choice. Now if I may ask what brings you here. Just a question I am not prying within your life, just curious. Waterdeep doesn't see many Half-Dragons?"

_________________
The Blackest Night falls from the skies,
The darkness grows as all light dies,
We crave your hearts and your demise,
By my black hand, the dead shall rise!


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 Post subject: Re: The Running Stag in #7
PostPosted: September 4th, 2012, 3:33 am 
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"Perhaps not." Hazeeb replied before the knights inference fully registered. His eyes narrowed and his tone gained an irritated edge.

"You share my table by the good graces you've demonstrated...but do not assume that *we* share doctrine, knight."

Cora chose to reappear in that moment with his ale. She didn't speak to Hazeeb. Her eyes were glued to the black clad knight sharing his table. She looked nervous; intimidated. Cora wasted no time in putting the Orange Sands on the table and turning away. Before Hazeeb could say 'thank you' she'd vanished behind the wooden doors, hidden away in the kitchen.

"Perhaps, before discussing my plans and presence in this frigid little city, we can present formal introductions. Knights, even ones following Tyr, surely understand the importance of that custom, yes?"

Hazeeb politely nodded and used his manners. "I am Araphyr yn Hazeeb al Inneen of Calimport...and this is my drink." He said, reaching for the Ale sitting between them.

_________________
"Nothing is impossible, what you want is simply expensive." -The Unofficial Artificer Player's Guide.


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 Post subject: Re: The Running Stag in #7
PostPosted: September 26th, 2012, 7:16 pm 
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Chill weather and ice did not agree well with Rakaun, born to the depths of the Underdark; but as he had learned, the surface world seemed as mutable as mist. This was his first trip into Waterdeep, though he had heard of the city before, and it was leaving a lot to be desired. At least the soft rubber soles of his boots granted him a sure-footed stride on the slicked ground.

Armor muffled under carefully arranged layers of silk and leather clothing, helmet with its darkened lenses hidden within his cloak's hood, Rakaun strode confidently along beside his warmount - a huge Underdark riding lizard. No less than four sword hilts could be seen poking out from under his cloak and silken wrappings, a visual warning to the observant to leave him be. He moved with all the lithe grace of a hunting dancer, hidden eyes taking everything in. Ahead, he noted the sign of an inn; perhaps a warm spot by the fire and a drink might help pass the time until something interesting came along to catch his interest. Like the beast already standing outside the inn.

Outside the door, Rakaun paused, turning to his mount. "Wait here, Brekk. And do not eat the other animal." he ordered, knowing his will would be obeyed. Stepping up to the door, he swung it open and stepped boldly inside.

People turned as the wind blew in around him, his smaller build and slighter frame apparent despite the layers he was clad in. Bracing himself, he pushed the door closed against the gusts, sealing out the weather once more. He took a moment to look around, taking in the common room and the people within, before he claimed an empty table by the fire. Sitting, he drew out his long stemmed black pipe, packed its bowl with a mixture of herbs, and whispered a soft command, lighting it as he pulled a draw of astringent smoke through the stem, wedged into a small opening in the lower edge of his helmet. Silently, he slowly inhaled the smoke, allowing the fumes to waft around and cling to his clothing.

Leaning back, he waited, as the customers turned back to their business, until a serving wench approached.

"What'll ye have?" She asked the muffled figure.

Without turning to look at her, "Dark lager, hot stew, fresh bread." He flipped two gold coins onto the table in front of the wench. As she scooped them up and left, he allowed his gaze to drift around the room again, his attention drawn back to the ... Dragonborn and the person sharing that table.

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'Tis better to dance than march, better to celebrate than grieve.


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 Post subject: Re: The Running Stag in #7
PostPosted: September 29th, 2012, 1:25 am 
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Hazeeb glanced away from Ion when the door swung open, admitting another chill breeze within the Tavern. A stranger stepped in, covered heavily and hooded to avoid the cold. He didn't look like much as first glance, but the sound of his boots on the floor held the half-dragon's attention. When the door closed behind him, a large tail caught Hazeeb's attention as well; riding a dinosaur in Waterdeep? Hazeeb shook his head and dismissed the thought. Rather, it was the light playing tricks on him, or perhaps the angle of a particularly ugly steed's rear end beyond the tavern walls.

The tavern resumed its normal activity and scattered conversations, leaving Hazeeb to continue speaking icily with Ion. Yet, somehow, the feeling of eyes on his person didn't dissapate. Years of slave instinct whispered that someone held their eyes on him. Years ago that would have made him very nervous, but now he simply wished to be ignored instead of gawked at. Irony, it seemed, was not without a sour sense of humor.

Hazeeb quickly glanced around to see who was staring him down, but failed to spot any offender. However, when he turned to the hooded figure in the dark corner he knew who exactly was boring holes into his pelt. Hazeeb felt a small kernal of dislike growing for the figure already.

The end of his pipe overturned as Hazeeb emptied the ashes. He growled quietly in the proicess, snuffing out the hot ember under his thumb.

"If you have something to say to me, do so! I hate long stares and awkward silences. They make me uncomfortable" He snapped at the hooded figure.

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"Nothing is impossible, what you want is simply expensive." -The Unofficial Artificer Player's Guide.


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 Post subject: Re: The Running Stag in #7
PostPosted: September 29th, 2012, 11:50 am 
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Rakaun nodded. "Apologies. You are only the second Dragonborn I have ever seen; I meant no offense." he paused, and lifted his pipe in salute, "To your everlasting good health."

The wench arrived, tray laden with mug, bowl, and bread. Reaching up, he lifted the mug and bowl off, set them on the table, and dropped a silver on the tray as he took the bread. "My thanks." he said softly, as she turned to leave.

_________________
'Tis better to dance than march, better to celebrate than grieve.


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 Post subject: Re: The Running Stag in #7
PostPosted: September 29th, 2012, 3:36 pm 
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"Oh, that doesn't sound familiar." He muttered icily, shooting the black clad Tyrian knight a sideways glance.

The man toasting him wished him good health. Hazeeb lifted his own lager and saluted him, but did not return the sentiment. He doubted the cowled man gave half a damn about his health. His clothing and mask gave him a sinister look that made his heckles rise. Hazeeb didn't doubt that, should he meet him in an alley, alone, a blade would be in hand instead of a tankard.

A quiet moment passed before Hazeeb spoke up again. He set his mug down and looked between Ion and the stranger, running a worn leather glove over the aged and dull metal as he threw out a question.

"Perhaps one of you can tell me where to find the embassy I need. I've traveled across two deserts to get to the Lantanese but these city streets are...disorganized. I don't know where to go."

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"Nothing is impossible, what you want is simply expensive." -The Unofficial Artificer Player's Guide.


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 Post subject: Re: The Running Stag in #7
PostPosted: September 29th, 2012, 3:44 pm 
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Door opened to present another of customers in full inn. This time, it was a girl. At least, that could be said by frail form on which dirty mantle with many old patches was hanging. Face was covered by cowl, neck inclining head so low that it was wonder if she could see where she walked at all. She stepped in very slowly, as if her feet were passing old narrow brittle rope bridge over great ravine. All the time gaze was lowered to the ground, woman navigating herself through crowd, avoiding bumping into other patrons with amazing coordination. Putting some effort into finding free table, ragged shade took her seat, nervously looking around at drunk men and women. Approaching serving wench almost made her jump up from chair, hands shuddering and gradually calming down to take out a few silver coins, finger pointing to the side, where one hungry half-elf was eating got stew. It took some time for human to understand what this weird client wants before going to bring the order.


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