Open Chronicles The Heroes Arethil Needs!

[TTamark]

Leroy had seen the evils this world had to offer, He had seen the injustices done to those of differing races. Leroy may not have remembered who he was in life, but his friend Steve had shown, and taught him the world, but Leroy could not stay under Steves wing forever. Especially after all he had seen, this world needed a hero, and Leroy would answer that call.

It had been several months since Leroy and Steve had parted ways, and Leroy had adapted well to living on his own, even creating a new alias for when he met those of the living. He now went by the alias
Le mute Petit Señor Ghost, as was written upon the large hood he wore that covered his whole body. Many ill doers had grown to fear the pink hood with a moustache, for what it represented, justice. Legend had it that the reason the hood was pink was because so many evil doers had met their end to the señor that it had permanently been dyed pink, others suspected that it had happened when the señor washed his hood and red socks in the same load of wash, but only the señor knew the answer to the mystery.

The current piece of justice Leroy was looking to dispense was a tad larger than anything he had ever planned before, this time he would be taking care of a dragon. This dragon had been raising trouble out in the Aberresai Savannah, raiding caravans, sacking villages, and employing bandits to do its foul deeds when its evil couldn't reach far enough. Leroy had written, and sent out many job postings to guilds, and taverns looking for those who would be willing to join in on a party to deal with the dragon. Leroy stood on a bar stool within the tavern he had set as the meeting place waiting as the time he had set drew near. The barmaid played with his moustache as he watched the door. Good thing he hadn't ordered a drink or she might find it odd that he refused to drink. He was pretty good at this disguise thing, his eyes wandered over to the barmaid, maybe too good.

 

[Jair]

Jair, was acting as oafish as ever, and why not he was a giant after all. He was in the same tavern as "Le mute Petit Señor Ghost" as he had heard the call for adventure, and dragons had a good reputation of having powerful magics, and lots of gold to loot...after they were slayed of course. He was practicing the very fine art of wenching with a seventeen foot tall dark haired half giant half something-or-nother with horns. He definitely had a type, he liked em short, and she liked being bounced on the boisterous bruiser;s knee.

Had enough food to feed a small group, and still have left overs, plus beer. Sixteen pounds of beef, two whole loaves of bread, another eight pounds of pork, and three gallons of dark stout beer just to name a few of the dishes. There were a few patrons, near him as he laughed, and caused a general uproar. With as much booze, merry making, and food being battered about the giant was not that unaware to prevent a thief from digging into his pocket.

Said thief was then admitted to the uproar the giant, and his guests were making with a pile of food on a wooden plate, and a mug of beer t'boot. He was having a good ol' time as he looked about the place for his perspective employer.

 

[Utholdende]

A heavy, rhythmic thumping could be heard from beyond the tavern's entrance, slowly getting louder and louder, until a bulky figure wearing an impractically heavy pair of boots shoved their own sword-toting form into the tavern. From under his own hood stared a pair of yellow rings that just barely reflected enough light to be seen, and from out of his hand protruded a crumpled paper.

The man, of whatever race it wasn't quite clear, glanced down at his paper and then back up. He seemed to be in the right place, or so he believed, and picked an empty stool at the bar to sit, propping his dull yellowy greatsword up against the bar counter next to him. Money hit the counter, which was replaced with a drink in it's own time, and the curious figure studied the room's living contents. He found the giant to be one of the more interesting ones, but his attention was fickle at best, and quickly forgot the oppressive presence at the sight of the other hood at the bar, sporting a weird set of whiskers and an overly friendly barmaid. The figure makes eye contact, and were the Señor paying attention, the faintest sillhouette of a feline muzzle could be seen from under the hood. The strange swordsman nurses his drink and points at his paper without offering his question in the verbal sense.

 

[Quoril]

Quoril sat on a stool at the tavern's bar. In front of him sat a plate with the remains of a mutton chop, a glass full of elderberry wine, and a large tome. Having mostly tuned out the sounds of the tavern as he read, he was interrupted by a barmaid asking if he would like a another glass of wine. "No thank you," the alchemist responded returning to his book. The sound of the barmaid talking to a nearby patron once again pulled him away from his reading. Turning towards the sound with an annoyed look on his face the elf stopped mid-rotation. On the stool next to him stood a small creature wearing a pink hood and a moustache. Quoril was so shocked at the sight of the mysterious creature that he forgot what he was even upset about.

 

[TTamark]

Leroy Eyed the giant it was rare to see their kind, and its presence likely indicated that it had come to join the party, but he didn't want to seem rude, plus how could he ask? He looked for a napkin, as he reached for his pen, but then stopped. Leroy eyed the barmaid and the patron beside him who paid him too much attention now. He couldn't write a note while being watched this closely. The moustache wiggled as his head moved while he thought of what to do. With any luck the giant would recognize him with his unique look. Leroy would just have to wait, as he did he let his eyes wander around the room for any others.

Leroy saw the figure gesture towards the piece of paper, and did his best to give a nod, but as he was wearing just a huge sack with a face on the front it might have looked more like the top collapsing as the front pushed out a bit. So the hood was definitely shaking in a longitudinal motion, what that meant could be up for interpretation.

 

[Jair]

Well the strange person with the mustache looked promising, and if he was looking to be subtle than he shouldn't have highered a giant. "Hey you, with the mustache come'ere!" He shouted across the tavern...shout being a relative word it was barely more than his conversational voice, but it was enough to rumble over the din of the tavern. He performed the come here gesture at Le mute Petit Señor Ghost.

The wench giantess hopped off his knee with a giggle, and Jair gave her a swat to send her on her way, as he shoo'd away the rest of his tables patrons, and started guzzling one of the gallons of beer. He waited for the man with the mustache to approach the table, as he worked on his small meal.

 

[Utholdende]

The bizarre moustached man nodded - or at least, so assumed the hooded swordsman, who acknowledged the vague gesture with a thumbs up and a grin, the likes of the latter was all but impossible to actually see. Satisfied that he had finally found the right place after so many taverns, the man hoisted his drink and began to chug it, not unlike one would chug water after being stranded in a desert.

All of a sudden, there was a booming voice behind the swordsman, causing him to flinch hard enough to bounce at least an inch or two off of his stool and begin choking on the alcohol that he had accidentally inhaled. Spinning in his seat, the man's gaze landed again on the giant, replacing his memory of the Señor and the task at hand completely. But who was he gesturing at? So the swordsman followed his gesture, which led his eyes back to the Señor, jogging his memory of the dragon again.

By now, the swordsman's lungs were empty of ale, and his slow brain finally fit the pieces together. He was going to kill a dragon alongside a giant and... some kind of sentient pink washcloth? Again, his mind emptied itself, this time in favor of wondering about the Señor's physiology.

 

[Neonitus]

as soon as i enterd town i found myself in a bar as usual i spent the day there by the time the pink hood had enterd i downed 2 bottles of rum on my own and had just bought a third. the bar tender looked at me odly as if he was thinking how could i possibly be sitting upright he hands me the third bottle and says in a soft tone

"you be careful now"

i smirk. 3 is no were near my limit.

i turn and to get up from my stool and immediately face plant. i guess this rum packed a kick or else ive been drinking cheep shit all my life...probably the ladder

"come on legys werk" i say to my legs.

i manage to stand upright. i check my satchel to see if my potions had survived the tumble. thank god they had.

i take a swig of the now open rum. i dont remember opening it however i was delighted when i found it was open in my hand. less work for me...i think?

anyways

i stumble a bit as i saunter over to the pink ghost. i manage to plop onto a bar stool beside him. a broody looking fellow is on his other side with a piece of paper in his hand.

i cant help myself the first thing i do is try to pet the mustache on the pink hood.

"hiiiiiii" is all i can get out before hurling all over the floor at least i had remembered to turn my head away from the guy otherwise this could have ended badly.

"sorry bout that- this place has some good ass rum man" i say slurred then i remember the potion in my inner pocket. i pull it out and uncork it. i immediately drink it.

"yeah baby daddy's sober again!!" i yell out loud at the top of my lungs. my energy is back and my head clear thanks to my little concoction that allows me to drink all day everyday without ever passing out. im a damn genus now if only i could remind drunk me somehow to take the potion before ruining perfectly good floors.

"bar keep get me and my pink friend here a drink. serve the quiet one too. "

the bar keep points to the rum bottle in my hand.

"dont worry about that." i say while taking another swig and putting it away.

"ive already paid for that. now i want something ive yet to pay for"

i slap down a handful of neo coins fake coins i created that look identical to everyday coins except that once they are touched they begin to dissolve very slowly by the end of the day there gone leaving me Scot free and no evidence that i even gave them fake coins. for one gold coin i can create hundreds of neo coins. im thinking about selling them on the thief market but still unsure about that

the bar keep pours my drink witch i chug then wash down the taste with good old rum.

"so pink fellow need a blood elf for hire? im always looking to make a few coins. or perhaps i can interest you in a custom potion made to your specific specifications. i know your busy being a legend but i feel i can benefit you in many ways."

i say each sentence between gulps of rum.

i always take times in between drunken stupors to try to sell my services im a business man after all.

 

[TTamark]

Leroy was about to answer the giant's beckoning when the elf began to play with his moustache. The sad truth hit Leroy: he had made his alias Le mute Petit Señor Ghost just to dang attractive. He had underestimated the power of the moustache, and how it seemed it would attract man, and woman alike. He understood now why Steve never grew any facial hair, they held a power more dangerous than any necromancy could be.

Leroy still needed to go to the giant, it would be rude to keep him waiting much longer, but this elf would require an answer first, luckily there were many ways to talk without words. Leroy tossed the elf a sack of coin, and dropped a pamphlet for the quest on the counter. Leroy quickly made his escape, well for a few feet before he tripped and face planted. Acting as though it didn't happen the little pink blur in little time had crossed the room, jumped, and done a little spin mid air throwing a sack towards the feline hooded figure, before landing upon the giant's table, where he let another sack of coin land before him. Leroy, in his get up, stood before the giant staring into his eyes waiting to see his, or the hooded figures response.

 

[Jair]

"I'm here to kill a dragon, are you the guy paying?" He asked swilling one of the gallons of dark stout in front of him. He was be far not drunk at all, a man of his size can definitely hold his beer. He smiled putting the tankard back on the table. The food was almost gone, and he was sure that the owner would want him to settle up before departing. He spilled some of the offered sack on the table. That should have been enough to take care of the giant sized tab that was going to come up.

"Mind you, that was a graceful recovery you made there." He smirked at the pink...thing standing in front of him all heroic like. Indicating a plate of beef he asked in a friendly tone "ya hungry?" while at the same time pulling a chunk of meat from the plate, almost bite sized for him. For a giant pretending to be a drunkard he had sort of pleasant table manners.