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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] >>
Grondy said, "Seeing how the weather is still on the coolish side for this far along in the Spring, I will make some navy bean soup with ham, but I'll set aside some without ham for those who must stay away from that particular cloven hoofed beastie. I do like ham in my bean soup for it requires less salt that way. And being far from the sea, salt can be expensive.

Thinking of which, if anyone wants a little task and wouldn't mind a trip to the seashore, I'll pay two mithril pieces for ten pounds of good sea salt, for my supply is starting to run low.

Now if you think that isn't much for the trip, remember a tankard of Gimli's Finest™ Ale only costs two coppers. And the current exchange rate here at the Inn, is ten coppers per one silver, and 20 silvers per one gold, and 50 gold per one mithril*. So you see, sea salt is worth transporting to the inland cities, especially if you happen to have a few pack animals so you can carry a bunch of it. The farther inland you go, the more you should be able to charge for it.

Anyway, other than watching out for the occasional bandit and Orc bands, it should be a good way to make a small fortune, especially if you can hire cheaply, a couple itinerant warriors to watch your back.

And now I'm off to the kitchen to make Bean Soup with carrots, onions, celery, navy beans, and some with ham and some without."

*OOC: I don't know how that exchange rate stacks up in the rest of the Middle-earth, but it made a bit of sense to me. Anyone have a better idea.
(OOC I was a bit busy with college this week, pardon my slowness.)

Revenwyn sighed, and tried to think of something that she could recite. Finally, something came to her mind. She cleared her throat and started:

My gold-friend has gone away
Never to return.
He has taken the whale-road,
the great gray vastness.
He boarded the ship,
The ship of no return.
I shall not see him again.
He left his treasures behind,
My gold-friend,
Fought the foe bravely,
Fell defending his warriors,
To his end.

He has left everything to me,
I feel so unworthy.
I am now the gold-friend,
The lord of my people.
But how shall I lead?
How shall I fight?

I have been given the example,
My gold-friend was the example.
I shall lead with mercy and justice,
Wisdom, knowledge, and integrity.
I shall fight bravely,
Defending my warriors,
And if it comes in battle,
Meet my end.

It will come, certainly,
Sooner or later,
Be it in war or peace,
It will come.

Then a new gold-friend will emerge,
A new lord.
He will defend the warriors,
And this story will go on and on.
Shadow smiled as Revenwyn recited the old poem. After giving a light applause to her, he went and stood by her side. Then, to Grondy, he said, "I don't know the next time that I'm going to the sea, but I'll bring some salt back when I do. I just hope you have some more of those Balrog wings when I get back."
'Well done Revenwyn, I knew you could do it. Here is your complimentary tankard of Gimli's Finest™ Ale and our combo platter of Spicy Hot Balrog Wings, Deep Fried Watcher Rings, and Bar-B-Qued Warg* Ribs. Of course if you'd rather have pot of herbal tea instead of the ale, that can be substituted."

Well if you do happen to head for the seashore Shadow, I'd be much obliged if you brought back some sea salt. Thanks.

* OOC: I still have trouble remembering that Tolkien spells them "Wargs" and D&D spells them "Worgs" and which is which.
Revenwyn took her ale and went to sit next to Shadow, looking enviously at his mumak burger and fried potatoes. She wasn't much for Spicy Balrog Wings (although they looked suspiciously like chicken) but she said nothing and started to sip at her ale.
OOC: The first part of Death's and Morohtar's adventure is up in the Journals section now.
Cutting his burger in half, Shadow offered part of it to Revenwyn. "Would you like to share it, or get one for yourself? It's rather good."
The navy bean and ham soup is ready in case anyone desires a bowl of it. You can also have it without the ham, if you lean towards vegetarian. But you will need to add salt to it, as it probably won't be salty enough without the ham. For I didn't add salt to any of it due to that dagged-nabbed crotchety old cleric keeps telling me to go on a low sodium diet and I want to eat it too. That with ham is quite tasty and that's what I'm going to eat.
In the latest posts page it says that Halo_Black has posted on here recently. Orc Going Huh Smilie
It has done it again. Orc Going Huh Smilie
OOC: Maybe Halo_Black changed her mind and deleted her post.
Grondy took a bar rag and proceeded to wipe down the bar, As he worked he hummed a tune that sounded a lot like the one at the end of PJ's LotR: RotK. Those Dwarves who knew Gimli, knew how much he missed the Golden-haired Lady of Lothlórien; and how Gimli used to hum that tune when his heart remembered her.
Can I just say that the Barad-Durish Inn seems to be more popular than this place at the moment. We even show the world-cup! Elf Sticking Tounge Out Smilie
We don't have electricity to support TV, whatever that is. The World Cup is that futbol game where the try to kick or butt an Orc-head past the keeper and into a wide mouthed net. Aren't they playing this year in Far Harad or somewhere to the south of it?
The door opens wide, revealing a tall cloaked figure in the doorway. He moves his cloak to the side, revealing the bright sheen of a sword hilt at his left hip, and holds his hands up to show that he comes in peace. The newcomer shut the door behind him as he wrapped his cloak around him, hiding his weapon once more.
"Greetings friends. It has been awhile since my last travels here, and I would welcome any news you may have. In addition to a drink of that famous mead, if you please," he said, gesturing towards the barkeeper with a friendly smile.
An elven woman slipped into the inn, opening and shutting the door while everyone's attention was on the cloaked man. She silently sat down in a corner and noticed the sign above the bar, but hopefully, no one had noticed her (I think). She didn't really feel like singing. Dark clouds were filling the sky outside and she didn't really feel like being out in a rainstorm either. Her grey eyes scanned the room, taking note of the people there.

OOC: I am actually not sure of who is in the room right now... I've read the last 4 pages. o.o
Everyone apart from Morohtar and Death are in the Inn. If you like Inns, Football and don't like Karaoke, go down to The Barad-Durish Inn.
Thanks, although I don't understand "don't like Karaoke", are there people who actually do this?? I love karaoke. Winking Smilie I have a song prepared for whenever they might force me to sing.
It is exactly the same as the KDI, but with a telly and a fighting arena, with no Karaoke machine. The Far-Harad World Cup is shown there, but not here.
But if you like a quiet place to rest and have good food, this is the Inn for you.

Anarya, you may sing at anytime and do not need an invitation to do so. So just do it when you are ready.

Gimli_axe_wielder, this Inn's owner, won't appreciate another Inn posting advertisements on his premises, so watch your back and make sure your sand buckets are full.
The cloaked man watched in amusement the banter between barkeeper and bar advertiser. He made a polite cough and muttered something about a "desert in the windpipes".
But Gimli isn't here now. Why don't you join in at the Barad-Durish, Grondy? The Violence has calmed down, and we have football!
Aureus and Anarya, you may sing your song at any time, if your throat is full of sand, I can furnish water before you sing.

Grondy, being new to the sport of futbol, doesn't know the major players, hasn't formed any alliances, and doesn't care who wins the World Cup as long as it is done cleanly and without any follow-up riots. Thus, Grondy will stay in this Karaoke establishment and cook up a pot of soup and bake bread for any travelers wanting food, drink, or rest.

But, all of the Major players are out. Apart from Özil, but Germany has knocked out the 3 teams I wanted to win, so he isn't major.
"My dear friend, do you not recognize me? I once used frequented this tavern almost daily, but that was some years ago," the newcomer said...
... He took off his hood and stepped out of the shadows. "My journeys have been long, but now I have returned. It is truly good to see this familiar establishment once again," Fionwe said with a smile.
A tall,purple cloaked figure was standing in the shadows observing the inns occupants but after much thinking she decides to join in as she overhears from someone called Grondy that this is a place for some quiet and peace.nothing she would like better.So she heads over to the counter and orders a root beer from (again) Grondy while she thinks over the introductory song she would sing.
Grondy welcomes the newbies and returning oldies as he scurried around doing his duties and host of this fine homey establishment.
There is a sudden clap of lightning, and a cloaked figure arrives at the door. He sits down, sliding a bag of mithrill and expensive jewels over the bar.
"I will have some of the Wine I bought you." He mutters, lowering his hood; Eruheran, brought back as a Zombie by lightning hitting his tomb and teleporting to the place he died.
"I have a feeling that if my son ever Returns, I shall die. So hurry up." Eruheran muttered, trying to sound old and stuff, before examining the changes to the inn.
Second part of the Overthrow of the Steward posted. Third and final part upcoming. Big Smile Smilie
"Right you are Cheesy, here is your wine."

Does someone owe the house a song? I don't remember as it has been a while since I double checked."
Ha! Oerath has some tricks upon his sleeve, um, I mean I do. Smile Smilie

Let us dance and drink through the night!

I bet you might have drinked with them
with the folk living in the woods
Their distilled forest spirit is enough to warm your heart
but too much of it could even tear your body apart
They surely know how to dance and drink
and when the morning arises, they only say:
'IT'S TIME FOR ANOTHER SWIG, HEY!'

And a legendary lyric that I once made when I was drunk.

The Journeyman (Lord of the Alcohol)

All trees were smiling at him, when he took a large flask off his pocket
He drinked it all in one flash and then he started to see some rockets
He staggered down a hill, stumbled and fell down with face on to the ground
And in that accident he lost a bottle of whiskey that was never found

”No! My whiskey, oh gods please safe me from a heart-attack!”

So a journeyman came to a tavern so gloomy and silent
He was thirsty as hell, this time he could drink more than just one well
He ordered six jars of beer and sitted on the chair next to the bar-desk
But silence was shattered as the door rammed against the wall
And journeyman looked down at the man so grim, but not-so-tall

”Hey bartender, the hell i’ve been drinkin’ ?’

It was a midget, it wasn’t any imaginations of my mind
It was a midget, I was very drunk but I swear it ain't a lie
It was a midget, maybe smaller than a doll
It was a midget, is this why I am called lord of the alcohol

”Oh geez, I need more beer!...and maybe a glass of, hic...whisk-ey...”

'Fall, fall, down to the floor, drink, drink, forevermore.'
'No joy, no joy to be clear, rum, rum is your friend when the end is near.'

Written by: Otto ’Oerath’ Timonen
Odette nods her head calmly as she appreciates the enthusiastic burst of song from Oerath and walks up to a table nearby humming some quiet tune,leans against it and begins her song:

"Dreamers on the lonely road,
travellers in hidden cloaks,
star-lit paths and deep waters,
songs and laughter near,
yet never closer,
earth and wind,loss and joy,all together but never mine,
I'm a shadow
a faceless song,
A crude memory of something that was begun,
A rootless tree,
a lightless moon,
a song sung with words never understood,
Sad words in this merry hearth,
which I hope you don't begin to unearth,
So I will drop into silence and let the dancing begin,
Bring out your lyres,your flutes,your drums,
and let all this warmth unclasp the coldest hearts and let the forgotten hour begin"
"Actually Grondy, I destroyed your Karaoke machine. I also destroyed your roof one or two times, a window and a small part of the cellars. I am repaying the debt by giving you expensive wine. Where is the kid and the Annoying Dude in a Halloween Costume. Geoff?" Eruheran explained.
"I also allowed some thugs to take ownership of the Inn. Then they died... What did we do with their bodies?!" He added.
The doors banged open. Folk at the bar turned to see a short figure stump inside, then turn to close the doors. The figure turned to see the eyes that were on him, then swept off the dark green hood of his cloak and bowed low to those present, his golden, braided beard touching the floor.
'Greetings!' he said, straightening up and regarding them all with his ice-blue eyes. 'I am Arann of the Lonely Mountain. I'm travelling through these lands to the Ered Luin to meet some of my kin, but I must make a stop here for a few days to rest.'
He walked across the stone floor to the bar, the murmur of conversation starting up again. He went to the bartender.
'What ales do you have on tap, brother*?' he asked in Khuzdul, the dwarven language.

* I think dwarves could adress each other like this in a foreign land (not that they are actually brothers).
This thread seemed to be a popular place to be, so I decided to start roleplaying here. Is that OK?

Thats fine.

 

"Welcome, Dwarf. I would recommend my Personal Wine." Eruheran muttered, winking. 

"And for that drink, you must sing or get into a fight and make people forget you not singing. Or Forget you have just destroyed the Karaoke machine." He added.

Or you can destroy whatever you like, break whatever laws you like in the Barad-Durish inn.

'A song, eh?' replied the dwarf. 'Well, I do know one, a lay that is taught to all of my kin as children. It goes like this...'

He stepped up onto a chair to get a better view of the room at large, then began. 

 

'Far over the Misty Mountains cold,
To dungeons deep and caverns old,
We must away, ere break of day,
To seek our pale enchanted gold.

The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,
While hammers fell like ringing bells,
In places deep, where dark things sleep,
In hollow halls beneath the fells.

For ancient king and elvish lord
There many a gleaming golden hoard
They shaped and wrought, and light they caught,
To hide in gems on hilt of sword.

On silver necklaces they strung
The flowering stars, on crowns they hung
The dragon-fire, on twisted wire
They meshed the light of moon and sun.

Far over the Misty Mountains cold,
To dungeons deep and caverns old,
We must away, ere break of day,
To claim our long-forgotten gold.

Goblets they carved there for themselves,
And harps of gold, where no man delves
There lay they long, and many a song
Was sung unheard by men or elves.

The pines were roaring on the heights,
The wind was moaning in the night,
The fire was red, it flaming spread,
The trees like torches blazed with light.

The bells were ringing in the dale,
And men looked up with faces pale.
The dragon's ire, more fierce than fire,
Laid low their towers and houses frail.

The mountain smoked beneath the moon.
The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom.
They fled the hall to dying fall
Beneath his feet, beneath the moon.

Far over the Misty Mountains grim,
To dungeons deep and caverns dim,
We must away, ere break of day,
To win our harps and gold from him!

The wind was on the withered heath,
But in the forest stirred no leaf:
There shadows lay be night or day,
And dark things silent crept beneath.

The wind came down from mountains cold,
And like a tide it roared and rolled.
The branches groaned, the forest moaned,
And leaves were laid upon the mould.

The wind went on from West to East;
All movement in the forest ceased.
But shrill and harsh across the marsh,
Its whistling voices were released.

The grasses hissed, their tassels bent,
The reeds were rattling--on it went.
O'er shaken pool under heavens cool,
Where racing clouds were torn and rent.

It passed the Lonely Mountain bare,
And swept above the dragon's lair:
There black and dark lay boulders stark,
And flying smoke was in the air.

It left the world and took its flight
Over the wide seas of the night.
The moon set sale upon the gale,
And stars were fanned to leaping light.

Under the Mountain dark and tall,
The King has come unto his hall!
His foe is dead, the Worm of Dread,
And ever so his foes shall fall!

The sword is sharp, the spear is long,
The arrow swift, the Gate is strong.
The heart is bold that looks on gold;
The dwarves no more shall suffer wrong.

The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,
While hammers fell like ringing bells
In places deep, where dark things sleep,
In hollow halls beneath the fells.

On silver necklaces they strung
The light of stars, on crowns they hung
The dragon-fire, from twisted wire
The melody of harps they wrung.

The mountain throne once more is freed!
O! Wandering folk, the summons heed!
Come haste! Come haste! Across the waste!
The king of friend and kin has need.

Now call we over the mountains cold,
'Come back unto the caverns old!'
Here at the gates the king awaits,
His hands are rich with gems and gold.

The king has come unto his hall
Under the Mountain dark and tall.
The Worm of Dread is slain and dead,
And ever so our foes shall fall!

Farewell we call to hearth and hall!
Though wind may blow and rain may fall,
We must away, ere break of day
Far over the wood and mountain tall.

To Rivendell, where Elves yet dwell
In glades beneath the misty fell.
Through moor and waste we ride in haste,
And whither then we cannot tell.

With foes ahead, behind us dread,
Beneath the sky shall be our bed,
Until at last our toil be passed,
Our journey done, our errand sped.

We must away! We must away!
We ride before the break of day!'

He stepped down from the chair, his throat slightly hoarse after declaiming the long poem.

'And now a drink, bartender,' he said. 'Or a goblet of that wine, Southron. It does not make much of a difference to me.'

Thorin, back from a two month absence, had quietly entered the Inn while the new comer was the customary singing. Although he had missed the first stanza, he quickly recognised the song and listened with delight to it. It was a delightful to hear this  song at his homecoming!

 

As the dwarf finished singing, Thorin rose and applauded. "Welcome Arann! It is nice to meet another kindred here and that was a great song!"

 

Turning to the innkeeper:

"Grondy, can I have a tankard of Gimli's Finest (TM) and some balrog's wing please?"

 

walks in and and looks for grondy and thorin.

may i have a drink and some food. your finest grondy please?

and sets down at the bar and waits for the food and drink.

"Welcome new people. My name is Emperor Eruheran of the South. What 'bout you?" Eruheran explained, over exaggerating the fact he was king of 5 Small Towns, 2 Big Towns, a group of small Towers and a few dozen fields.

Can I do something random to wake us up? The Inn has grown dull.

'Welcome, newcomer,' said Arann. 'What is your name? I am new here myself, and do not know even if you are a regular here.' He looked at Eruheran in surprise, and said: 'An Emperor? There has not been one of those for untold years in Middle-earth. What realm do you rule over?' And after a moment, he added: 'Regardless of your title, I'd still like a cup of that wine to raise to this Inn's honour and to my own dry throat.'

"Newcomer!? I Died here, and in a way, I have died twice here! I was been protecting this inn while Master Grond was away, and I am a leading supplier of drinks to this place." Eruheran explained.*

"Anyway, I am the Dead King of Chásor. Also known as the small kingdom of villages to the south." He added, holding his hand out for a handshake.

"What about you?"

 

*A lot happened while you were away Grondy. Mainly a few large Spiders, a Dragon and a gang of Thugs. Some Troll joined up.

And I am considering adding to that list to wake us up.

'I was speaking to the person who has just entered the inn,' said Arann, shaking Eruheran's hand. He replayed what the Southron had just said in his head, and hurriedly took his hand away. 'Dead King of Chásor? What do you mean?’

 The door creaks open    v...e...r...y     s...l...o...w...l...y.     Maydmarion pops her head in, looks around, smiles and enters...............

Hi, how you all doing....WOW I could really do with a pint of Gimli's finest - and a plate of Spicey Balrog Wings...are there any ready on the spit?

Sorry, just popped out for a bit and well.....you know how it is!  Place hasn't changed...any gossip???

 

ps...still see there isn't a fairy smiley 

"I have died. In a way, I have died 3 Times. Pretty soon, that will become four times. What about you? Anyway, I was turned into a Nazgul, my first Death, Turned into a Human, my second Death, Killed by Death, my third, and the curse Michael Jackson put on me when I magically came back as a Zombie means I will die when my Son returns to the inn." Eruheran explained, counting with his fingers. 

Place hasn't changed? The Cellars and Underground Tunnels are now fairly damaged, the Karaoke machine died mysteriously, there is now some loudspeakers connected to a system in the cellars controlled by me, and the roof has been patched up once or twice due to bad weather.

'Right...' said Arann, stepping away, wondering if he was dealing with someone who was quite sane. He then turned to the newcomer at the door. 'Welcome!' he said. 'Whatever manner of creature you are, you must sing a song before any drinks or food can be served. Though perhaps you already know of that rule?'

Yes, He is sane Arran. He became a Nazgul during the 1st Age, and his Kingdom of small villages and fields went into Hibernation. After the Nazgul lost the war of the Ring, he decided to come to this inn. He attacked the place before being somehow defeated and returned to normal. He then woke up his Kingdom, adopted a son and came back to the Inn. He was killed in the Inn before his son arrived. Fornad is currently writing something about Death and Eruheran's son ReRecovering the Kingdom. 

This is generally normal for this thread, I would say. But otherwise, he is generally insane. 

A middle-aged, matronly dwarf wearing battered travel-clothes enters the bar and leans on her scarred staff as she eyes the sign out front.

"I don't usually sing in public but if I must. . . Ah! I know just the song!"

She clears her throat and starts to sing in a loud, relatively pleasant voice.

"It's lonesome away from your kindred and all,
By the campfire at night where the wild dingos call,
But there's nothing so lonesome, so dull or so drear,
Than to stand in the bar of a pub with no beer.

Now the publican's anxious for the quota to come,
There's a faraway look on the face of the bum,
The maid's gone all cranky and the cook's acting queer,
What a terrible place is a pub with no beer.

The stockman rides up with his dry, dusty throat,
He breasts up to the bar, pulls a wad from his coat,
But the smile on his face quickly turns to a sneer,
When the barman says suddenly: "The pub's got no beer!"

There's a dog on the veranda, for his master he waits,
But the boss is inside, drinking wine with his mates,
He hurries for cover and he cringes in fear.
It's no place for a dog, round a pub with no beer.

Old Billy, the blacksmith, for the first time in his life,
Has gone home cold sober to his darling wife,
He walks in the kitchen; she says: "You're early, me dear"
Then he breaks down and he tells her, that the pub's got no beer

Oh, it's lonesome away from your kindred and all,
By the campfire at night where the wild dingos call,
But there's nothing so lonesome, so dull or so drear,
Than to stand in the bar of a pub with no beer."

The dwarf grins broadly and bows as low as she can without overbalancing as she basks in the applause and the barkeep mutters good-naturedly about the lack of subtlety in dwarves.

"Call me Fjorgyn. Now, barkeep, how 'bout a drink for a thirsty traveller?"

Thorin rose and clapped loudly.

 

"That was a good song master dwarf and deserves fully the complementary tankard of Gimli's Finest (TM) and some hot crispy balrog wings!"

 

Thorin put the above mentioned items before Fjorgyn. "Enjoy Master Dwarf," he grinned.

Fjorgyn rubbed her hands together in delight and devoured the wings so quickly it was reasonable to speculate whether she actually tasted them, then chugged half the ale and let out a hearty belch.

"Excuse me, that wasn't terribly lady-like but at least you know your work is appreciated."

She quickly finished her mug of ale and ordered another, flipping a few coins onto the bar.

"What am I saying, anyway? Better out than in, and I've yet to meet a dwarf who disagreed."

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