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Thread: The Khazad-dumish Inn.. Please watch your head coming through the door.

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Bottom of Page    Message Board > Roleplaying Guilds > The Khazad-dumish Inn.. Please watch your head coming through the door.   << [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [24] [25] [26] [27] [28] [29] [30] [31] [32] [33] [34] [35] [36] [37] [38] [39] [40] [41] [42] [43] [44] [45] [46] [47] [48] [49] [50] [51] [52] [53] [54] [55] [56] [57] [58] [59] [60] [61] [62] [63] [64] [65] [66] [67] [68] [69] [70] [71] [72] [73] [74] [75] [76] [77] >>
*takes Corgon's hand in a firm but controlled grip*
Good day to you sir, and thank you for your welcome. So, I heard that there was someone here needing medical attention. Being a woodsman, I may be able to help.
"A goodly song there Smaugwillfall; and here's your complimentary tankard of Gimli's Finest™ Ale and a Combo Plate of our Deep Fried Watcher Rings, Bar-B-Qued Warg Ribs, and Hot and Spicy Balrog Wings. Enjoy!"

"So Corgon, what's this fiendish scheme Sauron has hatched against us."
they are a new breed of wrathes impowered by great magics that even elf kind can not mach. if you can invision a wrathe crossed with a cave trole and the inchantment ability of sariuman twice over. that is what comes on the hirison


(ooc i know its a bit strange but iv had alot of time alone lately and my mind comes up with stringe things like this when i am)
"Well, if those scary dudes come here, I'll treat 'em to a tankard of Gimli's Finest™ because they are certainly too powerful for me to take on. All we can hope for is that Eru and the Valar send us some Istari and some heroes so us common folk don't have to deal with the likes of them."
"Aye, Grondy, what need have you to worry when you have the likes of us around here?" Fionwë asked. "I think that a few of us could easily handle something like that. Let's just make sure that any battle doesn't take place anywhere near the Inn, we don't want to disturb those who don't wish to fight or see a fight."

OOC: If somebody brings anything like that in here, let's try to keep the occurance away from the actual Inn. I don't think that Grondy wants this turning into a battle thread. So let's keep that kind of creature out in the woods.
OOC: Aye, the Inn is for R&R (Rest and Recuperation); a place to get away from the cares of the world. My thinking is when you get badly wounded or tired in one of the other RPG threads, you can come here. You can also try to form a party to take to another thread here, but as PT doesn't have a plethora of players at the moment, that will have to wait until we do. Now that The Hobbit movie will actually be made and directed by Peter Jackson Happy Elf Smilie our membership will start growing again, hopefully soon.
OOC: That is awesome news, Grondy! Let's just hope that he doesn't mutilate the Hobbit! lol It will be nice to see more members though!
As a prayer answered, the Cloveress burped from inside her little wine barrel, the music of some faeryland in her dreams still playing in her ears. "What's this I hear of battles and wounds?" she yawned, her little mouth wet with the fine wine Grondy had been hoarding for 179 years. "It's time for merrymaking, not fighting!" She fluttered down to see the newcomer.




Seeing that his offer to help the wounded/ill individual, he leaves his free warg ribs and such on his table and walks over to Cloveress. "Hello Ma'am, I do believe that you are right to say that merrymaking is in order" Aethar holds his mug aloft "To the blessed peace which comes between conflicts"
"Good day Cloveress, would you like a thimbleful of our morning after tonic? Or are you immune to the after-effects of that potent wine you were marinating in for the last few weeks."
Maydmarion looks up from a dark corner, paintbrush in hand....cream paint smearing her face and tunic....don't suppose I could get a really long cool drinks Grondy? One of your specials...?

Having waited for an offer from the 'male customers' to help with the painting, Maydmarion had started the painting herself but was finding it a long job.......looking round she spots Cloverness and requests in her mind help from the little fairy.

Well what do you think so far Grondy? But.......this paint is special. I've got a magic code and when the painting is finished you will get a 'one off' chance to change the whole colour.........neat hmmmm??
Walks over to Maydmarion and takes a look at her painting in progress
Grondy hands Maydmarion a tall glass of icy Crème de menthe and diet 7up with a parasol in it. He holds his thumb up near her painting, squints, and says, "All Right!!! Marvelous!!! Groovy!!! This time you have out done yourself. Keep up the good work." Then taking a bar rag, he wipes the paint from the tip of her nose.
"To the peace! To the peace!
May Humans dance and fairies sleep!
And be not stingy with wine and feast!"

sang the Cloveress lustily.
"Yes, Grondy, I'll have the tonic." She fluttered over to perch on his shoulder as he looked at the painting. She cocked her head to one side. "Methinks the sweeps are grand and delicate all at once. The colours are harmonious and yet speak of some exciting conflict. Yes. yes... beautiful... beautiful!" She had unconsciously began to rub her tiny hands together deviously.
Fionwë laughed aloud with joy when he saw the old... er, young, imp.... um, fairy, come down from her hiding place. "Greetings old friend! Been sneaking some of Grondy's best wine, eh?"
Grondy went behind the bar and got a dusty brown bottle with a tattered faded yellow label which read 'Evies All Purpose Morning-after Tonic™' and poured a shot glass half-full and handed it to Cloveress. "Besides removing the hangover, this should remove the hair from your chest and probably that paint you've accumulated on your wings," he said with a grin.
The Cloveress sipped her tonic daintily as she regarded Fionwe over the rim of her thimble. "Well, you would have done the exact same thing if you were in my place!" She blinked at him owlishly and stole a glance at Grondy before saying in a low voice, "It was some of his oldest, from the grapes laid down in the almost two centuries ago..."
Fionwë grinned at her as he replied, "You're probably right, I would have done the same!"
After hearing her last remark, he started to chuckle. "Don't remind Grondy, or else he might fetch a wizard in here to turn you into something that doesn't drink wine." He laughed out loud and then covered his mouth to keep the noise down, not wanting Grondy to suspect anything...
This isn't the tube station...
"No, that's third door on the left, down two flights into the second cellar, then use the secret door hidden behind the tapestry with the unicorn hunt scene."
The Cloveress giggled, sprinkling fairy dust all over Fionwe's shoulder. Oh well, he won't feel the rash until next morning. She finished her tonic and decided that she wouldn't want to be near Fionwe lest some of her belladonna powder should slip from her pockets. So she took a seat on the wooden table and solemnly began to meditate.
Fionwë started blowing the dust of his shoulders, giving a glare in Cloveress' direction as he did so.
"Nice try Cloveress, if I get anything from this I will turn you into something myself!" He had no clu what he could turn her into, but he hoped that it would give her something to ponder over.....
The Cloveress gave an exaggerated yawn, her eyes still closed as she meditated on. It was unintentional after all. But what if he does turn me into something else? I don't want to be trapped in a lamp or shackled to iron bars... Oh pooey, I'm a pixie, after all, I'll probably find some way to worm myself out of this one when it comes...
"Oh shucky darn! This rotten rope finally gave out in the dumbwaiter that I use to haul stuff up from the cellars. Now I'll have to carry those heavy kegs of beer and ale up the stairs until I can get someone in to fix it for me. Wait a minute, I've got an idea...I know how I can fix the blooming thing with just a little inside help."

"Yo Cloveress, if I tie a long length of thread to a long length of string and that to the end of this new rope, would you mind being a good little friend and flying the end of this thread through the pulley at the top of this dumbwaiter and then back down to me?"
The Cloveress opened an eye lazily. "What's that? You want me to fly up that tower of rotting wood?" She uncrossed her legs and flexed her wings. "Oh well, if you insist... I suppose someone has to work to make ale readily accessible to everyone..."
Thanks Cloveress, just fly this thread through the pulley at the top and bring the end back down to me and I'll be able to pull the thread and string and rope far enough to re-attach it to the dumbwaiter. I'll really appreciate it.
Ar-edain37 was playing Punishment Checkers with a very intelligent looking tree stump that he had sat at the table opposite him. Those who are unfamiliar with the rules of the game should be aware that it is played by moving tiny, rodent-like creatures acroos the board. Whenever you make a bad move, they bristle their dense, mildly toxic quills into a dreadful phalanx of agony while still in your hand. This aldo tends to happen if your move awakens a dormant one.
Ar-edain37 was losing miserably. Apparently, the stump had some pretty groovy telepathic abilities.
"Rampant banana slug!" shouted a most irate Ar-edain 37, his voice carrying from the corner booth where he liked to sit/sleep. Everyone looked, their hands moving towards a panoply of heavy and pointy objects, to see what obscene disturbance was in store for them this time."I mean, come on! It is perfectly natural for you to want to get back to being humanoid as soon as possible, but, keeping principle in mind, you could have picked a game where you don't have the obvious advantage of being unable to feel pain!
Stump=Silence
"Look at my left hand!" he raised his left hand, which was swollen to about three times its largest acceptable size, as well - rather than being discolored - rapidly cycling through three colors. Azure, sable, and sanguine. "I can't even use it any more! That means that, tomorrow, my right hand is going to be like this as- THEY FALL OFF?!" His eyes bulged and he slammed both of his hands on the table as he said this. The screaming lasted a considerable amount of time, but not quite so long as the subsequent whimpering. Finally he continued.
"Look, forget the deal. Your two moves away - What?- Fine, one move away from winning the game anyway. You don't have to take me to Avalon anymore, just win the game, and then I'll eat the mold so that you can be a druid again! What do you mean and? Okay, yeah, i'm sorry that I chopped you down, but, as I have continually insisted, there was no malice... I was trying to build a fire if you must know!"
This could go on all night.
Aethar walked up to Aredain, disdainfully looking at his swollen hand.
"You want some help with that friend? Or do you enjoy the look of your hand as it is now?"
As Smaugtothefall finished speaking, Ar-edain's hand fell to the floor. it was still alternating color, which, I imagine, would have made it very fashionable under different circumstances.
"That which happens when you meddle in the affairs of wizards also applies to the Druids' sacred groves." And with that said. Grondy started singing, "If you go down to the woods today, you better go in disguise. If you chop trees in the woods today, your in for a big surprise...."

Aethar picked up Aredain's fashionable hand and threw it in the fireplace, then started to dance to Grond's song he was singing as the flames began to change color and cast different colored light throughout the room.
The Cloveress flew down after she had looped the string to the dumbwaiter in that dank space. "There, Gronders, there's your string!" She looked at him slyly. "You'd better get the wine up. We wouldn't want the people down there to get too comfortable, now would we?" She went over to the person dancing to the druid song and sang along. "Chippity chippity chop-chop-chop!Oak-ash-beech-nut drop-drop-drop! Don't go down to the woods today, the dryads fleeing'll chase you away!"
Fionwë laughed as an idea came to him. He moved closer to the fireplace, watching the two dancers as he did so. Knowing that neither of them would be hurt, only scorched a little, his eye twinkled mischeviously. When he was 3 feet away from the dancers, he said something under his breath and waved his hand towards the hearth. Laughing, he leaped back as the fire roared up and out, hitting the two dancers as they moved about...
"Thanks Cloveress, you deserve a thimbleful of 'Dew of Ambrosia'; when I finish here, I'll pour it for you." Then Grondy went about pulling the lengthy thread/string/rope snake until he could attach the rope to the turnbuckle atop the dumbwaiter. That completed, he adjusted the turnbuckle to remove all the slack and untied the string and thread which he re-round around their ball and spool, respectively.

"Now for Colveress's 'Dew of Ambrosia'," and he started to decant it from a cloud shaped bottle. He suddenly looked up from what he was doing as a wall of flame advanced on the dancers, "OMG!", he said as the overhead sprinklers came on and doused the fire as well as all the tavern's patrons. The heat gone the sprinklers automatically turned off. "That's never happened before," he said as he started handing out towels he had quickly retrieved from the closet behind the bar.
Checking his cloak for burns, Aethar eyed the elf with ill-amusement, and considered introducing him to the taste of his own blood and a couple broken teeth. Deciding against it, he went back to dancing, a little further away from the fireplace.
Fionwë shook his cloak, getting all the water off it. He was laughing so hard that he found it hard to speak.
"Sorry, Grondy," he finally managed, getting his mirth under control. "I had no idea that the sprinklers were going to do that! Won't happen again, I promise."
"Well," he added with a twinkle in his eye, "At least, not for a while anyways."
Fionwë looked across to Aethar, and considered him for a moment. "Friend, I've tasted my own blood many times, and it has been drawn in many ways. I don't know how hard you can hit, but it would have to be hard to teach me a lesson."
He started laughing again as he looked at Aethar. He had to lean against the table closest to him, as he couldn't help himself from the fit of laughter.
"Friend, haha, you might... you might want to check your legs," he said, still laughing uncontrollably. "Feeling warm?"
looking down, Aethar saw that his pants were on fire. He quickly pulled off his boots and his pants, then threw them at the ill humored elf. Quickly realizing that this would amuse the elf more, Aethar quickly pulled the pants off of a patron standing beside him and put them on, kicking his victim into a corner.
Grondy laughed at Aethar who had put his borrowed pants on front-to-back. Then he handed out flour sacks with leg holes cut in their bottoms, to those needing replacements. After that he started mopping up the floor and wiping down the tables and bar. While he did thaty he planned the menu for the morrow. Under his breath he could be heard to mutter, "The Customer is always right! The Customer is always right! The Customer is always right.....
Arath again awoke from daydreaming
"aye!"
He chanted a song of wizardry,
Of piercing, opening, of treachery,
Revealing, uncovering, betraying.
Then sudden Felagund there swaying
Sang in answer a song of staying,
Resisting, battling against power,
Of secrets kept, strength like a tower,
And trust unbroken, freedom, escape;
Of changing and of shifting shape
Of snares eluded, broken traps,
The prison opening, the chain that snaps.
Backwards and forwards swayed their song.
Reeling and foundering, as ever more strong
The chanting swelled, Felagund fought,
And all the magic and might he brought
Of Elvenesse into his words.
Softly in the gloom they heard the birds
Singing afar in Nargothrond,
The sighing of the Sea beyond,
Beyond the western world, on sand,
On sand of pearls in Elvenland.
Then the gloom gathered; darkness growing
In Valinor, the red blood flowing
Beside the Sea, where the Noldor slew
The Foamriders, and stealing drew
Their white ships with their white sails
From lamplit havens. The wind wails,
The wolf howls. The ravens flee.
The ice mutters in the mouths of the Sea.
The captives sad in Angband mourn.
Thunder rumbles, the fires burn ---
And Finrod fell before the throne.

After chanting the words quietly he went back to hes daydreams
That was it. Fionwë had been laughing hard, but the pants did the trick. He collapsed on the ground, laughing so hard that he couldn't breathe.

When he finally began to calm down again, he happened to glance at the patron who was wearing the flour sack. "Oh dear!!!!" He burst out laughing all over again, and it was another five minutes before he was able to dry the tears which had started pouring down his face and get up.
"Oh dear," he laughed. "I haven't had that good of a laugh in years!"
Fionwë listened for a moment as he heard Grondy muttering.
"Grondy, let me help dry the place. Would you like me to use a strong wind to blow-dry the place?" he asked. "Or, maybe I should just grab a towel and do it by hand!"
He took one look at Grondy's face when he mentioned using magic to help, and picked up a towl and started drying furiously at the tables.
Aethar turned his newly acquired pants back around and decided to help clean up the water as well. Pulling out a towel from nowhere, he got straight to work...
Fionwë had no clue what had come over him that day, but he couldn't help but play some kind of practical joke on someone. As he walked over to another table, with the intent to dry it, he walked past Aethar. He looked on and started laughing as his pants fell down a moment later. He leaned against the table, and began to laugh uproariously
"Now that all that hot air from Fionwë's laughing has dried out the place, who wants a plate of roast whobeast stew, some fresh bread piping hot from the oven, and a tankard of Gimli's Finest™ Ale?"
Pulling up his pants and tightening his belt, Aethar asked Grond if he could have some ale.
"Quite rightly you may Master 'Tumbling Dragon' here you go; a tankard drawn from a freshly tapped keg, its quite good, it I do say so myself."
As Grondy was passing the ale to Smaugwillfall, Ar-edain burst out of the keg. Splinters were sent everywhere, and many people suddenly found themselves in the market for stylish new eyepatches.
Still soaked in the sticky brew, Ar-edain kneeleed and reached down to the floor. He lifted something up a nd held it in his dripping hand. "I have found a penny!" he announced cheerfully. But his countenance fell as he began to blink the ale out of his eyes.

Beginning to sob uncontrollably, he stuttered"Sorry-y...i-it's only a b-butt-ton-n." The last syllable was uttered as a sort of pathetic squeak; like a puppy whose tail has been stepped on.
Fionwë was still chuckling from the past few events that had occured in the Inn. Finally finishing with the last table, he caled out to Grondy, "Where do you want these wet rags?"
*Angrily grabs Aredain by the ear and pulls him outside for a sound thrashing*
Ar-edain turned into a salmon, which have no portruding ears, and flew away. Eluding the stupified Smaugwillfall most skilfully, his only natural enemies now are bears and aluminum cans.
Grondy thought, 'You want to know where to put those wet rags Fionwë, well here's my answer,' and he shouted "CATCH THAT DEMNED ELUSIVE FISH AND USE THOSE RAGS TO STUFF IT, THEN WE CAN MOUNT IT ON A BOARD AND HANG IT OVER THE BAR."
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