"Halarond Neldoron, you wouldn't happen to read the Dragonlance books, would you? I just happen to be obsessed"...


haha, yeah im obsessed too.... howd u guess?? hehehe

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Halarond

Night was the hour of drunks and prostitutes, ruffians and thugs. Night was also the hour of the rum-induced euphoria that had become trademark to so many unfortunate taverns.

A darkly cloaked, hooded figure stopped outside the door to the - what was it called? A rusty sign swinging on one hinge above the door sported three barely comprehensive words: The Traveler's Friend. Below it was a pair of stick figures in a vague resemblence of two men holding hands.

The creativity of innkeepers these days...

Shaking his head, Knyn made sure his cowl still shadowed his clean-shaven features. The reassuring weight of his ebony greatsword, Mortality, hung across his back. He pushed open the door and was immediately heralded by a cacophony of drunken laughter and even more drunken curses. Barmaids flitted between tables, deftly avoiding the reaching hands and steering clear of impending brawls.

Knyn wrapped his cloak closer around his lean frame as he wound his way with grim purpose to the back of the tavern.

The faster he got this business over with, the better.

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The black robed mage turned to look at the door. He felt a draught on his hooded face. He saw a warrior type enter the tavern. 'Different from the normal rabble' he thought. I wonder why one such as him is so far out alone? He pondered this and went back to his wine, watching the figure intently.

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Halarond

Turwaithiel watched from the shadows as she saw two different men enter, wearing cloaks, so she wouldn't look supicious. Turwaithiel put her hood up for the seeing of Elves along the mortals was still unfriendly at times, especially when it was late and the druken men where out.
Turwaithiel walked out of the shadows and entered the tavern. Her long blue cloak would probably make her stick out, but she didn't care. This tavern was the best for information, these days.

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Just became a college freshman; be on sparingly

Isra walked into the tavern to sell his fresh kill of deer to the keeper.
He always got a good pruce from this man.Always.
Now a days most people were to scared to go into the forrest to hunt.
'Unfriendly and dangerous' They'd say
isra wasn't like them though....

He tipped his head to young womean in the bar and avoided men . He din't want ths whole deer to touch the floor of the tavern. Might ruin it......

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"Holmes is a little too scientific for my tastes -- it approaches to cold-bloodedness"

(hey leaha, i need you on the van helsing rp)

Turwaithiel sat at the bar, but ordered nothing. She tried to listen in to confronsations but the roaring laughter of an group of men in the middle of the room filled the tarven, much to Turwaithiel's dislike.

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Just became a college freshman; be on sparingly

There were a few strangers that stuck out among the ruffians like owls among crows. Curious but unwilling to be deterred from his purpose, Knyn stopped at the back of the tavern. Behind the bar, the innkeeper threw a rag over his shoulder and glared at him through bloodshot eyes.

"What d'ya want?"

"The nights are cold, but the hearts of dragons are ever colder," Knyn said conversationally.

The innkeeper dropped the mug he'd been cleaning. His bloodshot eyes suddenly grew to the size of saucers. "I know who you want to meet! She is not here!" he said loudly, his frantic gaze darting to shadows in the corners of his tavern.

Knyn spun around, his warrior instincts buzzing. Mortality appeared in his hands as from those same shadows, hooded shapes emerged, each bearing a long, cruel scythe.

The tavern became deathly quiet.

First to move, Knyn reached into his belt and whipped out four shurikens. In the space of two seconds, he launched all four into all four corners of the room. The hooded apparitions emitted inhuman shrieks of pain. The fell screams jolted the drunks to action. There was a mad scramble for the exits.

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Name: Raelin
Gender: male
Race: vampire
Age: unknown
Occupation: wandering person

Weapons: two long spiked swords at the edges stained with blood.. but in day light he's nice but when it's night...
Personailty: mysterious
Description: short black hair he has a cross shaped scar on his right cheek.. he has a long black tattered cloak and black clothes underneath
History: he killed his parents....

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Name: Aver
Gender: Male
Age: 31
Race: Human
Occupation: Rogue/Blue Mage

Family: None, they all died in the hands of the dark armies

Appearance: He has short brown hair and a goatee, his eyes are blue like his robe, he seems somewhat sturdy that as a sign of physical work for many years when he hasn`t been reading his books or doing his search.
Equipment: a staff with a blueish orb at it`s head, his few magical items and ingredients, a short sword hidden in his robes.

Personality: Quick to anger, impatient, but also quick to act in times of need and can make decisive decisions. Usually takes the quickest way to victory, but still sometimes holds his mind.

History:

He was born to a merchant family and at an early age showed interest in tricks then magic, thus wanting to do them himself and his father agreed to take him to be teached the basics. At first he was a sloppy student yet after many hard lessons he began working harder than ever and it became an obsession for him to beat his earlier achievements.

He wore red robes as the sign of his neutrality yet one day he apparently killed his master yet that situation was very unclear to all yet he ended up in exile from the mages order. He fled to where few mages came and where mages rarely were in the order, the sea. He became the mage of a warship that patrolled the waters hunting for pirates yet lately he decided to take a trip to land as he bored in his everday life.

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Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

The Mage, still sat in the corner found the Inkeeper's remark interesting. He watched the fight intentley.
"Impressive, warrior" the mage said from underneath his Black hood.
He rose and walked towards the big man, uncovering his face. Although quite handsome in apperance, his face seemed older than he appered, maybe...maybe it was his eyes.. Black they were, as black as his Robes that fluttered about him.

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Halarond

Knyn shook his head only slightly and gestured at the four wraiths, recovering from his initial attack. All four of them raised their scythes and began advancing.

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The mage gestered to two of them. "Entertain those." he turned, advanced to the other two slightly, spread his arms and began chanting, the Magic taking over him.

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Halarond

There was a sudden burts of magic and a frostbolt hit one of the wraiths in the chest slowing it down, the wraith now turned to the new foe that had appeared into the door way. The man wore a dark blue robe and held a wand that reminded of a icicle, he quickly placed it on his belt before beginning to chant a new spell to hopefully finnish off the wraith.

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Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

Isra dodged around the unusual fighting and made his way behind the counter.
The keeper wasn't there so he found it in himself to leave the small doe there and take what he thought he should get for it and sat and calmly walked around the fighting
( I edited it any better???)

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"Holmes is a little too scientific for my tastes -- it approaches to cold-bloodedness"

[Leaha... I believe it's a bit distracting when four black-robed wraiths bearing scythes just appear from the shadows. I don't think the innkeeper'll stick around for long ]

Knyn flashed his two unexpected allies a cursory glance. Both mages, one blue robed and the other black. With a sinking sensation, he knew more wraiths were on the way.

They could not linger.

"Get out here!" Knyn shouted, firing off another shuriken and making a desperate dash for the kitchen.

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Turwaithiel sat, motionless. She turned ans looked up, frowning. "Darn, I missed the action." Turawithiel heard someone frighten call and stuck out her hand. An long vine went up the entrance door, like an snake. It crawled up and did tight circle's around the knob. It went all the way to the top and then thorns poked through. She smield as she lowered her hand, turning to the boy who ran into the kitchen. "That should hold them for an time. If they manage to break it loose, the thorns will be there greeting." She still did not show her face, but her voice must have given away her female identiy. She scolded herself in her native tounge quietly as she made her way for the kitchen.

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Just became a college freshman; be on sparingly