Stop the Poaching - Group 2, RP Chat 2A
General Summary
The following is extracted from the Discord Chat channel dedicated to in-character Role Playing between gaming sessions. All text is preserved as it was originally posted by the players or Gamemaster, with only minimal format editing to fit this article style.
The fighting in the Two Bridges Inn ends as quickly as it began. Non-combatants start moving in to pick up their fallen friends, who are propped into chairs and slapped back into consciousness. One group of regulars - some of whom had jumped up to participate in the evening's "activities", get up from their table and offer it to the party members:
'Ere ya go, lads... Ye handled ye'reselves well! An that deserves a round o' ales!
One even offers to help Tanalith, who is still obviously reeling from the blow he took, to find a seat at the end of the table as Eyolf looks on warily. Thornas is also staggering a bit as he returns from the casino end of the tavern to the main bar area. Zat is bubbling with excitement. Aryk is wiping ale out of his face, hair, and beard, and Pickles is looking on to Aryk with concern, making sure his "sergeant" is no worse for the wear.
'Ere ya go, lads... Ye handled ye'reselves well! An that deserves a round o' ales!
One even offers to help Tanalith, who is still obviously reeling from the blow he took, to find a seat at the end of the table as Eyolf looks on warily. Thornas is also staggering a bit as he returns from the casino end of the tavern to the main bar area. Zat is bubbling with excitement. Aryk is wiping ale out of his face, hair, and beard, and Pickles is looking on to Aryk with concern, making sure his "sergeant" is no worse for the wear.
Tanalith staggers near a table close to Zat still having water in his eyes unable to see strait, he takes a seat on one of the strewn chairs after righting it. His hand rubs his throat for a moment after receiving a flying throat punch from a patron half his size.
"By the gods... How did this start? CoUgh!!!.."
Eyolf moves up to the elf putting his snout on his thigh...
Aryk gets the majority of the ale out of his eyes and more importantly hes beard. And looks around at the scene. He smiles broadly as he counts the number of unconscious combatants around him.
"1...2...3...4...5...6...Har Har these louts made this too easy!"
He looks down at Pickles and claps him on the shoulder.
"Master Artillerist ya make an old dwarf proud laddy! No worse fer the wear I take it? I have to say me dina know ya could jump so far! Why I couldna done better meself!"
He looks over at the others.
"Best go check on the elf laddy, he took a wicked shot in the neck. He be needen to grow himself a beard to cushion the blow if he be plannin on gettin in many more bar fights! Ill go check on the bald one and ole Timbers. Har me thinks Thornas may be thinking twice about not wearing at least a cod piece from now on!"
Gingerly walking towards the main bar area, Thornas ignores Aryk’s poor attempt at humor regarding his condition. Thornas then decides to make his way out the back of the tavern to empty the contents of his stomach. After aspirating in several waves of heaving, Thornas finally feels relief. Rummaging through his herb pouch, Thornas finds a few mint leaves to chew on as he re-enters the tavern to join his friends at the bar. Thornas winces as he slowly settles himself onto a bar stool.
It wasn’t enough for nine of them to assail me but one had to fight dirty and kick me in my nethers!
Looking at the gathered patrons, Thornas says,
It’s a good for you all that I’m a man of peace.
Thornas asks the bartender for water which he enhances with a few placed herbs to help settle his stomach.
Pickles' eyes light up to Aryk's compliments and pumps his chest up in pride.
Sir, I did take a hard hit but pain is only weakness leaving the body!
He looks back to Tanalith, turns back and salutes Aryk
Yes, sergeant!
Pickles scuttles over to Tanalith and climbs onto a chair to be closer to his eye level as much as possible. He takes a rag, licks it and having no idea what he is doing tries to attend to his throat wound.
One of the recovering patrons calls out, “If ye’re a man o’ peace, I’d love ta see what ye call a man ‘o war! Never seen fists fly like that!”
Thornas snaps his head towards the voice that shouted the retort but then begins to chuckle in spite of himself.
The barkeeper, a heavily-built, but muscular middle-aged woman, stands with her arms crossed at the end of the bar looking into the casino area and lets out a few "tsks" she calls out to one of the dazed former combatants sitting in the casino area shaking his head to clear it,
Another chair, Kedrik? Tha's the third one in a month! It'll be on ye're bill as usual.
The meek reply is
Yes'm
From the chatter around the room, you get the definite impression that a brawl like this is common fare in the Two Bridges Inn -- though it sounds like your group fared much better than expected - and many in the bar seem to respect that. A round of ales is delivered to your table, apparently courtesy of the guy that spent the entire fight standing at the bar and enjoying the show.
Another chair, Kedrik? Tha's the third one in a month! It'll be on ye're bill as usual.
The meek reply is
Yes'm
From the chatter around the room, you get the definite impression that a brawl like this is common fare in the Two Bridges Inn -- though it sounds like your group fared much better than expected - and many in the bar seem to respect that. A round of ales is delivered to your table, apparently courtesy of the guy that spent the entire fight standing at the bar and enjoying the show.
Aryk goes to sit next to Thornas and claps him on the back
Ya know laddie, ya did real good back there takin on them ruffians all by yer lonesome. It took real discipline to stand up to yer enemies like that with narry even a good piece o iron between ya's. Kept em all on ther toes too ya did. Har Har nay on ther arses! Real discipline laddie! Real discipline.
Seeing the wince of pain on Thornas' face when he sits back Aryk looks over to the gnome.
Timbers I think he might be needen a bit o yer skills.
Aryk pulls a red sash from his belt and pours some water on it to wet it. He passes it over to the gnome.
Can ya use dem skills o yers to chill this like ya did me beer? Might relieve Thornas here somewhat if he sits on somtin a bit cold. Takes out da swellin. An trust me ya dont want dem to be swellin up on ya!
The retired Sergeant Major pours himself a ale and sits down wiping a bit of blood from his lip before taking a long pull.
Aye one of dem sad sots got in a lucky shot on me back there too.
Glancing over at Tanalith Aryk smiles widely.
And you! Har Har Har! Ya took one of em out with yer bare fists! Far be it fer dis dwarf to say ya pointy eared gits are no good in a fight! Id have never even thunk a elf could clobber a yocal like dat, but seein is beliven! Next time jus keep yer left fist up a bit higher and yer chin tucked in to yer chest. Keeps it hidden so ya dont get yer clock cleaned. Oh aye, feels a bit unnatural I grant ya but ya havta have some discipline in these here matters. Just a bit o friendly advice ther Tanalith. Nuttin more.
Aryk takes another long drink and wipes his mouth with his sleeve.
Timbers! Ya keep hangin around this lot and we'll be makin a right proper adventurer of ya afore we reach...ah...whare are we goin? Dried Falls or sum such?
Drinking from his herb infused water, Thornas speaks up.
We're on our way to Spirit Lake. Though I guess Zat needed to evaluate this gambling establishment's operation.
Turning to Zat, Thornas asks,
So, Zat? How stands this gambling hall in your eyes?
Pickles props up next to Aryk, takes a long drink and declares, "Timbers!" as he raises his mug in the air.
Aryk raises his own mug in salute to the soon to be adventurer.
Oh Aye! Spirit Lake. To put an end to sprite or fairy folk or some other nonsense. Far as Ole Aryk is concerned it be a fools errand. Huntin down somebody fer tryin to feed his family is jus bad biznes. But if they be payin I be huntin. Tanalith, these be yer kin aint they? Do ya think they be rich? Maybe they be payin in gold and not som fairy fart dust. Me old Pap once said the fey ones be tricksy. Dont be agreein to sell somtin to em witout bein paid first else they be tellin ya all they got is fairy dust to giv ya in return. Aye, if they say they be payin in any such dust tell em Aryk be wantin gold! And id advise ya all to do da same!
Aryk takes another long pull from his ale and says
Ya know this aint half bad. I mean it aint a dwarven lager fer sur, but fer a establishment of man it aint half bad. Doubtful they have any dwarven spirits either. Let me tell ya Master Artillerist, dwarven spirits are good fer what ales ya. They put a fire in yer belly and hair on yer chin! Why dwarven mothers are known to give ther sons spirits soon as they been weened. Been known to start one of these here bar room brawls if one clans says another clan cant handle its spirits. Course just as many fights been started cause somebody says sombodys beard looks like a goats beard. Har Har! I once told that to me own troops afor we went into battle ginst dem hobgoblins. Why i says to dem...Dem hobgoblins says ya alls got beards like goats! Now are ya gonna take dat lads?...Lemme tell ya Master Artillerist, never saw a bunch o green recruits fight harder.
He finishes his ale and peers into the bottom of his mug. Then adds
These here mugs are pretty small too.
Zatqualmie finishes his examination of Thornas' bruises and hands him a pungent balm, seemingly oblivious to the conversation around him as he works. He says to the monk,
Rub that on the side of your face until it either starts to burn or go numb. Either way that means it's working,
He rubs his hands through his fire-red hair and looks around, his overlarge eyes taking in the groaning bodies lying around the gambling-house floor.
Aryk takes another long pull from his ale and says
Ya know this aint half bad. I mean it aint a dwarven lager fer sur, but fer a establishment of man it aint half bad. Doubtful they have any dwarven spirits either. Let me tell ya Master Artillerist, dwarven spirits are good fer what ales ya. They put a fire in yer belly and hair on yer chin! Why dwarven mothers are known to give ther sons spirits soon as they been weened. Been known to start one of these here bar room brawls if one clans says another clan cant handle its spirits. Course just as many fights been started cause somebody says sombodys beard looks like a goats beard. Har Har! I once told that to me own troops afor we went into battle ginst dem hobgoblins. Why i says to dem...Dem hobgoblins says ya alls got beards like goats! Now are ya gonna take dat lads?...Lemme tell ya Master Artillerist, never saw a bunch o green recruits fight harder.
He finishes his ale and peers into the bottom of his mug. Then adds
These here mugs are pretty small too.
Zat addresses Thornas,
What was that, Thornas? Ah yes, the gaming! Well, it does not appear that this house is an affront to Gimna. I saw no loaded dice or marked cards. However it appears that the players need to learn when graceful surrender the best choice. You adventurers sure showed them the error of that!
He chuckles loudly. Taking the sash from the old campaigner, Zat nods,
An excellent idea, Sergeant-Major!
His hands move swiftly as he says a silent prayer to Gimna, ice forming on the red material.
I'll (ahem) let you place this, Thornas.
The gnome's ears perk up at the mention of dwarven spirits.
Ah yes, I tried some a few years back. Turned my hair blue for a few weeks, I'm not quite sure why. The color didn't suit me.
He sees Tanalith holding his throat and suddenly snaps his fingers.
Dwarven ale! Yes, that's what we need - it numbs the throat quite readily.
Pickles looks at Aryk,
Sergeant, sir, I did my best in melee. I mean. I could have won the fight easily but I would have killed them all as well as have blown the wall out. Buuut, the order was not to kill. What could have I done better?
Aryk scratches his beard in thought.
Hmm...well Master Artillerist, ya see in a bar fight it all comes down ta takin and dishin out pain. If ya can take a punch and give one bedder then yer goin to be fine. If like in yer case ya cant do neither then me thinks the best spot is to be back up. Meybe be ready to pounce on somebody who gets knocked down. Meybe knock ther head gainst the floor or somethin. Or if ya can get yer hands on some magic that can knock a person out witout killen em...well that wuld be da best!
Thornas accepts the cool red sash, places it on his stool and gingerly seats himself on the sash sighing at the relief the coolness brings.
Pickles looks Tanalith, then at Aryk and whispers,
Or maybe I should get myself a bow and use the hilt of my dagger instead." He covers his mouth as he chuckles.
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