03-10-2015, 09:28 PM
The tavern was dimly lit...and a bit smoky, two heavy stone fireplaces casting a flickering light over the long, low ceilinged room. There was a bar off to one side that came roughly up to just below the Chosen’s waist, but was perfectly placed for a dwarf. The tables were also a good couple of feet shorter than the Chosen’s preference, as well as the chairs, sitting here would be uncomfortable, although he didn’t quite have to stoop. However, the roof was literally brushing right against his steely helmet, scraping slightly with every step he took inside. Several of the dwarves looked up when he entered with Gilnor, but most stayed in their own conversations, dice games, and mugs, at least, they did until the barkeep rang out a call, a big, stout dwarf with a gray streaked yellow beard. “Gilnor! Is that yeh, we all thought yeh were giant bait by now!” Roared out the bartender, which did get some more looks, as the name went about. While not everyone knew everyone, in smaller communities if someone went missing people quickly knew, and Gilnor and his comrades had apparently been missing just long enough. However, Gilnor was still quick to reply.
“Bah, it’ll take more than giants or trolls to do in ol’ Gilnor Hoarfrost! Still, it helps when yeh have a bit of unexpected help.” He says with a gesture to the Chosen, who just quickly ducked his head in a nod. “Now, c’mon yeh drunk sod. Get out that human sized chair I know yeh keep around and a pint for the Chosen here!” A few more dwarves were looking attentive now, an unexpected return, combined with the company of what must be a fully armored human, possibly a knight of some sort, could often mean a tale, possibly an entertaining one as well. Meanwhile, the barkeep gestured to one of the servers, and slowly a heavy wooden chair was dragged out, that actually looked built for human standards. At Gilnor’s gesturing, the Chosen sat down within it..and slowly brought his hands up to his helmet, pulling on it slowly. It lifted slowly but surely, coming off his altered, re-humanized face. For the first time in what was perhaps months, the Chosen’s face was revealed, he was not sure he had ever even exposed it in Lordran itself, except when changing armors. His face was, a strong, Andoran face. He had a strong jaw, that spread across his face, rising up with high cheekbones. His eyes were a deep brown, like Earth after a fresh rain, with strong, black hair crowning his head, messy and tousled from so long in his helmet. He also had a tall strong nose, like the end of a hatchet sticking out of his face, perhaps a touch too strong for the rest of his features.
It wasn’t an overly handsome face, but not ugly either, perhaps a few steps above your average look. Still the dwarves weren’t really concerned with his looks, and soon he had a mug of ale shoved into his hands, while Gilnor strode up onto a table. “Now, me friend here, don’t remember his name, and only recently learned ta speak! I know it’s a strange ting, but he’s knew to the Omniverse, didn’t know up from down! Supposedly he’s got some great tales ta tell, but first, I figure that if he’s never spoken, he’s never told a tale, and I’m sure all of ya are frothin’ at the mouth, to know what happened ta ol’ Gilnor an’ his crew. Sad ta say tho, that three lives were lost afore we made our valiant escape, an’ I can only hope they found their way ta Moradin’s halls.” As Gilnor spoke, the Chosen slowly tasted the mug of liquid he had been given, while noticing that that meant the group had originally been six, two dead during capture and then one more when the Chosen had rescued them. He sipped at his drink, and almost choked, such flavor! He hadn’t truly tasted, well...anything since long before his trip to Lordran, food was not provided in the Undead Asylum, why feed corpses after all? He had tasted nothing but Estus, green herbs, and purple moss for so long, having something as strong of taste as famous dwarven ale was just...absolutely astounding!
It got him a few amused looks from the dwarves, but he recovered and soon took another sip...and then another. Absolutely remarkable, at least his taste buds weren’t dead! Gilnor meanwhile continued his tale, speaking of he and his crew daring the frozen, blizzards to look for veins of ores, gems and other things of great value to the dwarves,when they were beset upon by trolls. They put up a valiant fight, but in the end two of them were slain and the others beaten and captured, dragged off through the snowy slopes. The trolls it seemed, had planned to take them to the Dark Tunnels, a network of caves in the Northern area of the mountains that had only recently gained that name, and a rather worrisome reputation, although no one knew exactly what was going on there. Either way, Gilnor and his remaining crew did not have to find out! “We were trussed up, an’ by now we’d be over halfway to the Dark Tunnels, if Chosen there didn’t show up. I don’ know how he found tha camp, but I saw the results. He waited until nightfall, and suddenly trolls started droppin’. I was fortunate enough to be positioned in just the right spot, and saw one of them go down, a short spear sticking out of him, blade driven deep into his body. For a moment, I thought a rival band of trolls were attackin’ but that just didn’t add up when the trolls went whooping and hollering off into the canyons, an’ yet there were no sounds of combat after that. Three trolls stayed ta guard us, and for minutes there was no sound but their own foul speak, and the cold, bitin’ winds. Then, suddenly there was a clang from off in the darkness! Our guards went rushin’ off ta check, and we could hear nothin’ but a few clangs and then...silence. Out o’ the darkness, strode our first glimpse of this fine knight, his blade stained with the black ichor the trolls call blood. He freed us straight away and sent us off to recover our gear, while he prepared to face down the trolls rushing back out of the canyons.” The Chosen stopped listening now, draining the last of his mug as Gilnor finished the part of the tale the Chosen had actually been there for.
However, a few moments after he’d finished, Gilnor turned to the Chosen. “Now, surely, a man like him, who can just walk straight into a group of trolls without even a sign o’ fear, when he don’ know up from down about the Omniverse, must have a tale to tell. So, who wants ta hear it? C’mon up Chosen, tell us where ya been, where ya come from, an’ where yer goin’!” Oh dear.
“Bah, it’ll take more than giants or trolls to do in ol’ Gilnor Hoarfrost! Still, it helps when yeh have a bit of unexpected help.” He says with a gesture to the Chosen, who just quickly ducked his head in a nod. “Now, c’mon yeh drunk sod. Get out that human sized chair I know yeh keep around and a pint for the Chosen here!” A few more dwarves were looking attentive now, an unexpected return, combined with the company of what must be a fully armored human, possibly a knight of some sort, could often mean a tale, possibly an entertaining one as well. Meanwhile, the barkeep gestured to one of the servers, and slowly a heavy wooden chair was dragged out, that actually looked built for human standards. At Gilnor’s gesturing, the Chosen sat down within it..and slowly brought his hands up to his helmet, pulling on it slowly. It lifted slowly but surely, coming off his altered, re-humanized face. For the first time in what was perhaps months, the Chosen’s face was revealed, he was not sure he had ever even exposed it in Lordran itself, except when changing armors. His face was, a strong, Andoran face. He had a strong jaw, that spread across his face, rising up with high cheekbones. His eyes were a deep brown, like Earth after a fresh rain, with strong, black hair crowning his head, messy and tousled from so long in his helmet. He also had a tall strong nose, like the end of a hatchet sticking out of his face, perhaps a touch too strong for the rest of his features.
It wasn’t an overly handsome face, but not ugly either, perhaps a few steps above your average look. Still the dwarves weren’t really concerned with his looks, and soon he had a mug of ale shoved into his hands, while Gilnor strode up onto a table. “Now, me friend here, don’t remember his name, and only recently learned ta speak! I know it’s a strange ting, but he’s knew to the Omniverse, didn’t know up from down! Supposedly he’s got some great tales ta tell, but first, I figure that if he’s never spoken, he’s never told a tale, and I’m sure all of ya are frothin’ at the mouth, to know what happened ta ol’ Gilnor an’ his crew. Sad ta say tho, that three lives were lost afore we made our valiant escape, an’ I can only hope they found their way ta Moradin’s halls.” As Gilnor spoke, the Chosen slowly tasted the mug of liquid he had been given, while noticing that that meant the group had originally been six, two dead during capture and then one more when the Chosen had rescued them. He sipped at his drink, and almost choked, such flavor! He hadn’t truly tasted, well...anything since long before his trip to Lordran, food was not provided in the Undead Asylum, why feed corpses after all? He had tasted nothing but Estus, green herbs, and purple moss for so long, having something as strong of taste as famous dwarven ale was just...absolutely astounding!
It got him a few amused looks from the dwarves, but he recovered and soon took another sip...and then another. Absolutely remarkable, at least his taste buds weren’t dead! Gilnor meanwhile continued his tale, speaking of he and his crew daring the frozen, blizzards to look for veins of ores, gems and other things of great value to the dwarves,when they were beset upon by trolls. They put up a valiant fight, but in the end two of them were slain and the others beaten and captured, dragged off through the snowy slopes. The trolls it seemed, had planned to take them to the Dark Tunnels, a network of caves in the Northern area of the mountains that had only recently gained that name, and a rather worrisome reputation, although no one knew exactly what was going on there. Either way, Gilnor and his remaining crew did not have to find out! “We were trussed up, an’ by now we’d be over halfway to the Dark Tunnels, if Chosen there didn’t show up. I don’ know how he found tha camp, but I saw the results. He waited until nightfall, and suddenly trolls started droppin’. I was fortunate enough to be positioned in just the right spot, and saw one of them go down, a short spear sticking out of him, blade driven deep into his body. For a moment, I thought a rival band of trolls were attackin’ but that just didn’t add up when the trolls went whooping and hollering off into the canyons, an’ yet there were no sounds of combat after that. Three trolls stayed ta guard us, and for minutes there was no sound but their own foul speak, and the cold, bitin’ winds. Then, suddenly there was a clang from off in the darkness! Our guards went rushin’ off ta check, and we could hear nothin’ but a few clangs and then...silence. Out o’ the darkness, strode our first glimpse of this fine knight, his blade stained with the black ichor the trolls call blood. He freed us straight away and sent us off to recover our gear, while he prepared to face down the trolls rushing back out of the canyons.” The Chosen stopped listening now, draining the last of his mug as Gilnor finished the part of the tale the Chosen had actually been there for.
However, a few moments after he’d finished, Gilnor turned to the Chosen. “Now, surely, a man like him, who can just walk straight into a group of trolls without even a sign o’ fear, when he don’ know up from down about the Omniverse, must have a tale to tell. So, who wants ta hear it? C’mon up Chosen, tell us where ya been, where ya come from, an’ where yer goin’!” Oh dear.