Ensign Georg enters the inn to speak with Roggins. Upon seeing the drawings he tears them down, crumples them and hands them to Roggins for disposal. He then tacks another parchment to the board.
The notice reads:
Random drawings depicting citizens of the empire as a form of humour is not what the common board is used for. Furthermore to those responsible unless you have gained proper authority to post such displays you are breaking the laws set forth in Cear and action will be taken. You will be arrested under Article II, Section 8.3.8.
Signed,
Ensign Georg Bauer.
Georg then moves over to speak with Roggins.
Robidais Mictlan ~ Priest of Peralia
Y'Reth ~ Deathseeker of Culnul
Georg Bauer ~ Scout Lieutenant of the Cerulean Fleet. E.M.S. Resolute
Tawno ~ Sacred Fist & Vigilant of the Argentum Vigilo
The front door slams open and Atash enters dripping blood from numerous wounds. Seemingly oblivious to the trail being left behind he walks up to the bar and leans his axe in the corner before slapping the counter top with a broad hand. "Ale!" he bellows using one of the few words he has learned since arriving in Cear.
The crowd becomes silent as the Captain and the Talon Warlord turn to look in his direction. Nervously Roggins tugs on his beard as he hurries over and slams his own hand down on the counter. "Coins!" the Dwarf belows back into Atash's dark skinned face.
Atash's eyes widen as he stares at Roggin; his dark eyes glint dangerously for a moment before a harsh smile crosses his thick lips. "BAH, HA, HA!" he bursts out in a laugh that rivals thunder on the dry desert plains. He grabs a large handful of the strange Cearian coins and dumps them on the table where Roggins scoops them up and places several bottles of Ale on the bar.
"Can't nay beleive she walked right in tha camp an banned us from drinking thar, I should go home an throw her boots out see how she nay likes it."
He sighs deeply
"Women can nay live with em, can nay kill em either..."
Lorval stops himself from saying out loud his next thought realising who he is sitting next to so turns back to Hagar
"Pitty Balin nay ere fer this, which of tha youngen's ye think will do best? An wha chance ye thinking them Redleafe's turn up fer all I hear bout them is building a wall fer Perelian's out thar at two bridges"
"When faced with important decisions it's a 90% chance your initial choice is right for you."
Mordecai - Mischievous Mage of Cuhanna
Kez Ryskill - Decayed
Lorval Silverbeard - Stormbeard Defender
A figure sits in a corner table, feet comfortably propped up on the table with a large curved sword leaned against his leg. He looks to be roughly 5'10" with medium length very dark brown hair. His polished and oiled chainmail ringing softly as he lifts his goblet of wine to his lips, eyes constantly flicking left and right searching around the tavern.
Ya know what i did see yesterday? A bunch of dwarfs running around and chasing giants while they was laughing and joking. I ave never seen the sight before but the Giants ran in fear. It looked like them Stormbeards and the Redleafes...
“A room without books is like a body without a soul.”
Marcus Tullius Cicero
Baddruck enters the inn with a large hammer , bag of rusty nails and scrap of paper.
He procededs to the noticeboard after several minutes of frantic hammering an lots of "OWZ MEZ THUMBZ!!!!!!" Baddruck stands back to admire his poster theat is now inbeded in the wall "dats nots going no werez dat iz " then realising he has knocked down most of the wall he then walks upto the bar and leaves a bag of coins " dis is for the damagez seez youz laterz!!!" and makes a hasty exit. all in the bar see the latest poster
*note pinned on the farthest door upstairs at the Mistyvale*
Some things of value were lost at the Mistyvale Inn by a worker.
They can be returned, for a reward.
Your worker saw who to contact, but if you try to take them by force, you will only get one, and the other will be lost forever.
Anne approaches Roggins early enough in the morning that most of the previous night's revelers are only just getting ready to turn in. She hands him a note and politely asks him to forward it to the first backpack-toting insignia-bearing Legionnaire that passes through.
SEEKING TO JOIN THE LEGION OR ANY BRANCH OF THE ARMY EAGER TO PUT A BOOT UP CANAS' WITHERED OLD [redacted]. KINDLY LEAVE A NOTE FOR ANNE ANATHEMA IF YOU ARE A RECRUITER; CANITE SPIES POSING AS LEGIONNAIRES ARE ASKED TO HASTILY DROWN THEMSELVES.
Other PCs: Victor Koepf-Argentum Vigilo-Knight's companion-Battle Cleric of Rel Kenshin Bushido-Rurouni-wandering swordsman Alaina-Monday Knights with DM Wired
Other PCs: Victor Koepf-Argentum Vigilo-Knight's companion-Battle Cleric of Rel Kenshin Bushido-Rurouni-wandering swordsman Alaina-Monday Knights with DM Wired
*A letter arrives by carrier for Anna Anathema stampped with the 4th Legion's Seal*
A. Anathema,
I regret to inform you that your enlistment in the Imperial Legion has been rejected.
This rejection is for the following reason: Your individual abilities are unsuited and incongruent for Legionary service.
I thank you for showing your loyalty and patriotism to Mother Varana and His Majesty Emperor Marcus IV. Please report to the Imperial Legion Barracks in the city of Cear to out-process.
Thank you,
Optio Gregory Walsh
4th Legion, 33rd Century
Login: mallanson
Victor Koepf-Argentum Vigilo-Knight's companion
Kenshin Bushido the Rurouni-Wandering Swordsman
Alaina-Monday Knights with DM Wired
An off-duty Anne is once again paying patronage to the Mistyvale Inn. Today she receiving a small stack of letters, including a note secured with a very expensive wax seal. Casually tearing open the first dispatch, her eyes move across the words as she mumbles through their contents.
"Dear honourable citizen, I am wealthy noble recently expatriated Osgörand and blah blah blah... solicit your strictest confidence... mhmm... please respond with your imperial banking credentials..." her eyes narrow on this last passage. "Bah! Another Osgörandian Prince scheme. Probably haven't heard it fell yet."
She tosses scam letter over her shoulder and into the fire, and moves to the next.
"Wife left you for a half-orc?" she reads, shuddering involuntarily. "Gods," is the only commentary she affords the letter, and over her shoulder it goes too.
The stack of advertisements and cons dwindles until only the official-looking letter is left. Patience stretched but intact, Anne breaks the seal and skims it with the efficiency of someone who must often parse nonsense.
"Dear A. Anathema, We regret to inform you that... hm."
She signals to Roggins and orders a strong drink, lowering the letter aside with a sigh.
"Gods bless the Empire, they really know how to weave an impenetrable bureaucracy. ROGGINS! It's a discharge. Are we celebrating or what?"
