OOC: This is intended to be serious. If someone wants to be funny... Fine, but if you start just goofing off... I am going to be irritated (Irritated as in "GET OUT OF MY THREAD NOW!"). Take this thread seriously even if your character wants to act humourously (It IS a bar, your character COULD get drunk or just normally be irritating... BE your character). It's following Phyllsys to the point where I want actual Phyllsys characters in it, but all the rolling and stuff might not happen (Don't know if a brawl will break out or if it will ever get any further than people sitting around in a tavern, but if someone wants to try to lead the storyline somewhere... Wait. I WOULD like to get used to RPing my character first) (Oh yeah, wreck the inn, and I WILL Knives-smite you.)
A note from Archmage: It's spelled Philsys, because it was created by Phil-dog. Give him credit and spell his name right. XP
IC: *It was a large inn for such a small town, but then, it was not much of an inn really. Most of the space in it was taken by a large bar that took the entire bottom floor. It was the only supplier of such beverages aside from the local market.
Yes, Dywithe was a small town, originally based on the idea of trade and travel. Perhaps it would have been a dead town too, had not so many farmers decided that, when the merchants had left originally, that cheap or free land was a good thing, even though the quality was not amazing. A few adepts of the Art also took residence here, and helped the small town stay together.
For a Kalashanian village, the population was, suprisingly, tipped in favor of humans. Of course, this might have been caused by its nearness to the north-eastern tip of the country, just 6 miles away from the densely wooded border.
The inn, though in disrepair in some places, did alright, for although it was off the beaten path, travelers still had a way of wandering through the small farming village, often enough, in any case, to supplement the income of the small family who lived there. Of course, the locals usually "pitched in" as well, for many would spend a long night to steep their sorrows in the sweet drink of forgetfulness.
Once, when it was new, it was called the Calling Lark, but, as the paint wore away, and loud music was uncommon, it became known as the Silent Crow.
Currently owned by a couple and their childeren. The husband is a man known as Dwillhelm, and his wife Dathree is a wood elf. It is said that Dwillhelm wooed his wife with music and song, and got her to leave the forest. They are deeply attached to each other and their children, Dwythe, Trynavanee, Uthos, and Ralin. All in all, although an unusual, the group is well welcomed because, although the exterior is underkept, they keep the inside clean enough.
On this day another elf was in town. He was viewed with some suspicion, for his coloring was greyed, and he wore a black leather glove on his right hand. He carried a large sword openly across his back, sheathed. Larger than a long sword, but smaller than a proper two handed sword, it was a bastard sword, or hand and a half sword. He seemed to expect everyone to step aside for him, and it did not take long for the locals to take a disliking for this traveller, but he, unnoticing of the animosity, took a seat in a stool in the inn, and ordered a small beer, and seemed to sit their, thinking morosely about something, slowly draining the glass.*
Edited by: [url=http://pub30.ezboard.com/uarchmage144.showPublicProfile?language=EN>Archmage144</A] at: 7/9/02 1:28:56 pm