Print

Please login or register.
1 Hour 1 Day 1 Week 1 Month Forever
Login with username, password and session length

[Tack]

OOC Thread

Another dreary day comes to a close in the City of Dashness. A hodge-podge of pockmarked cliffs and rickety bridges, boasting a population enough to crowd the straining lower streets.
Towards the back, barely visible, enveloped in the cloying mists generated by Dashness's signature waterfall, lies a tavern.
"Freshwater Spray". Not the largest tavern, but easy to access after a long day mining the cliffs, and, more importantly, extremely popular with would-be mercenaries.

Inside is a jovial scene, with the only two employees seeming to be the hefty barman, and a deft fiddler in the corner providing atmosphere. But, quickly, an altercation occurs- almost as though Fate conspired to create some sort of gameplay introduction.

An Ogre, rare in these parts, is being harassed by a belligerent miner.
Larok surveys the scene.
[Notice=2]
[Empathy=3]
[Rapport=0]
You see a long bar and many tables. Most of the tables are occupied by patrons, miners and mercenaries, mostly humans and goblins, but including a number of rare easterners. There is a table of guards in your peripheral vision, and, catching the belligerent miner's eye, you turn to see a sign hanging with the words "No Fighting. No Tolerans". It seems decking this upstart would be a foolish idea.
The mood is suddenly more tense. The fiddler is vainly attempting to regain the joyful vigour of earlier, but his attempts are ineffectual. Seeing your plight, he shifts his time into a low, Menacing Refrain. Although the belligerent miner is happy to give you grief, the mood of the room suggests this isn't particularly out of character, and he isn't particularly liked for it. Perhaps he's a Racist?
The crowd doesn't seem particularly likely to help out, seeming more interested in how you handle this.

"A hill giant, eh?" the man begins. "Didn't think we got hill giants up here. Didn't think they was allowed in pubs, either."
[Provoke 3] > [Will=2]
(1pt Mental Damage. |2| Stress box filled)

-- Referring to you as a stupid, inbred and cannibalistic creature.
-- A worthy insult. Your fists tighten.

[Caellath]

"Mister Barman, excuse me." An Eastern-looking young man said, approaching the counter. He wore white clothes and a partially undone headscarf, his attire that used by the people who crossed deserts. Bronze-skinned and moderately soft-spoken, he looked like a member of the trading clans that had established themselves in the Surrounds generations ago.

Nabih wasn't too fond of uncouth people like the miner, the kind who gave mankind a bad name for no good reason. "If fighting is not allowed, would not taunting people into fighting also be so? I believe this gentleman is trying to bend this tavern's rule in his favor due to his opinions."

Spoiler: Actions (click to show/hide)

Basically using Rapport to... I forget what I should be doing. Overcome, I think, to convince the barman to expel the belligerent miner.

[SOLDIER First]

Larok exhaled loudly. A human was insulting his worth? His? Ridiculous.
Of course, fighting wasn't allowed, as much as he wanted to teach the loudmouth his place... but words could cut as deeply as blades.

He turns to the barman as well and, as composedsly as he can, says, "Barman, there seems to be vermin in here."

[Tack]

Nabih surveys the barman
[Notice=-2]
[Empathy=-2]
The barman is a short, stocky figure.
You can't really get a read on him.
[Rapport=4] > [2]
Success.

Larok
[Provoke=-2] > [Will=+1]
Defended with Style! (Barman on your side) Defended.

The barman is leaning nonchalantly against the bar. He listens to Nabih's case, and gives a small nod, replying quietly "Sorry friend, keepin' one rule's hard enough... I like havin' people drink here, so I don't really wanna throw my weight around.
He gives a shrug. Then again, I do hate the bastard.
Seems the Barman's on your side (free invoke).

Larok delivers his line, much to the derision of the belligerent miner. "Vermin? Guess you won't have to pay for dinner then!"
Larok gives an annoyed twitch, but the barman pipes up. "Are you sayin' I let rats in 'ere, Lars? Think I keep a dirty bar, eh?"
The belligerent miner gives a nervous laugh. "'Course not, 'keep. Just pokin' fun at the hill troll, here."

He continues his taunts:
"Rats wouldn't fill him up anyway. Not like an Ogre would. I heard tell you lot eat your dud kids. Chomp 'em up."
[Provoke=4] > [Will=2]
2 pts Mental Damage. |2| Consequence added.
Alright. This guy's Touched a nerve.


Room aspects:
[Menacing Refrain]
[Barman's on your side]

[SOLDIER First]

"Whoever told you that has less of a brain than you do. I'll gladly take this outside where there aren't any rules about fight or barmen to save your worthless skin!"

[Tack]

[Provoke=1] > [Will=-2]
3 Mental Damage. Attacked with Style! (Can reduce damage by 1 to create a fear based Boost.

The miner gives a shaky smile.
"I am... Really comfy... Right now. Just got a drink, and all."
He recovers a little, and continues his tirade "Besides, if anyone should be leaving, it's you. You're the one dirtyin' up the bar."
[Provoke=0] > [Will=0]
Tied. Attacker gets a boost.
The miner gives a Smarmy, Shit-Eating Grin


Room aspects:
[Menacing Refrain]
[Barman's on your side]

[SOLDIER First]

Larok narrows his eyes menacingly. Pretty intimidating look.
"You are hardly better than the dirt beneath my boots, miserable wretch."

[Caellath]

"I did try to keep this civilized." Nabih commented, returning to his seat and, consequently, the proximity of his guardian.

[Tack]

--(-1, + boost) 2 mental damage. |2| stress box filled.--
[Provoke=3] > [Will=-2]
(5 Mental Damage (Pretty Intimidating Look) 7 Mental Damage. Attacked with Style!)

Larok glares at the miner. "But you are coming very close to replacing it."

The miner drops his grin along with his tankard, and flees.

The mood in the bar instantly improves, and the fiddler, shooting a grin at Larok, switches back to an upbeat tune.

The barman saunters over to Nabih, pointing out the result.
"See? The big lug did aiight. Now, not saying you owe me one, but you should shout him a drink.
Y'know. I'd do it, but a goblin's gotta make a living."
Oh. Huh. He's a goblin.

[SOLDIER First]

Larok twists his head to either side, cracking his neck, and stalks out after the miner.

[Caellath]

"I think that might not have been enough for him." Nabih told the barman, pointing out the fact the ogre seemed to be leaving after the miner. "Anyway, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Al-Safi Nabih Shahin."

[GiglameshDespair]

Ghaminia had remained standing, leaning unobtrusively against the bar.
She remained silent as the young master introduced himself.

[Tack]

[Investigate=-2] > (2)
Failed.
Lorak looks around for a bit, before giving a frustrated grunt.
But, being Unneccessarily Obstinate, he feels an urge to stay until he has the trail. +FATE

Meanwhile, inside:

Pleased t'meet cha. The name's Hassik. Lemme guess, you're the youngest of your litter?

[SOLDIER First]

He does, indeed, stay until he has the trail. More time to convince himself that maybe, just this once, murder was, in fact, the first solution.

[Caellath]

"Before I answer your question, I have to say I am curious about what made you ask that. Any particular reasons?" Nabih replied in a tone of genuine though still polite amusement.