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The Muddy Ghoul Inn...

The young woman seemed happy for Ezlan's quick invitation to sit with them. She smiled and awkwardly pulled at one of the big chairs with her good hand.

"I guess I'm not looking for anything, really," she began. When Nemeia interjected, the woman gave pause and looked at her, then to Eomer as he walked after her on unsteady feet. After a moment she seated herself, although her eyes held some uncertainty.

A round of drinks arrived swiftly and the woman's eyes lit up when she saw an extra mug, presumably for her.

"Well, I saw what happened with Dagston." She lowered her voice and glanced around nervously. "He and Maddox didn't get along... but he's not usually so disagreeable." She perked up and laughed, saying, "The first time I came through here, a couple years back, the team leader seemed to get along smilingly with him!"

A 'couple years ago' and the woman seemed like she would have been too young to begin adventuring. She bit her lip then spoke up again.

"You probably don't care about all that... Well, uh, Maddox is North of here a couple days. I was left behind because of... well," she gestured to her arm. "They've been chasing a group of bandits dangerously close to the swamps. I think they tried hiding in the scrubs."

The 'scrubs' werent a secret. Most people saw it as part of the swamp. In fact, it was a swath of land just before the swamp proper that became overgrown with tall weeds and carnivorous flora. Trap roots and strangle thorn were well known hazards along with bite bugs and disease carrying ticks. It was also a favored home to the ever aggressive giant dire pigs which cause so much trouble to small trade caravans; the ten-to-twelve foot tall hogs were only too happy to drag a horse or a man into the thickets for a meal.
Sorry again, Dark. I wanted to give you time with the fight. I'll do my best to be on more during the week.
In the tavern with no name...

Ezlan's attempt to take control of the grapple wasn't quite successful. Although he was, by far, the stronger man, the other guy was quick enough to maneuver out of his hold and maintain his control. He was not, however, nearly sturdy enough to resist the big man's punch. In the end, Ezlan got his meat shield.

"What in the dying light is wrong with you," the broken man yelled from his seat. He turned stiffly and gestured toward the fellow in the light blue cloak. "Put an end to this, already!"

The man in the cloak lifted his brow at the tone used toward him but gave an elaborate shrug. "Just when it was getting fun," he mumbled. He stood to his feet and took in a quick breath. Then he began an elaborate motion with both of his hands and seemed to be concentrating on Ezlan. Without any farther warning, Ezlan, the barely conscious man he was using as a defensive body pillow and the Elite Greatswordsman wavered and then slumped unceremoniously to the floor. The first attacker, who had just recovered from getting smacked by a table, backed away when he saw this and held his hands up in a "Chill bro" motion.

"Get him out of here! Don't come back! Tell Alyssa she can kiss my ass if she thinks I'm going to put up with this shit! You no-good, disrespectful, blight-taken-"

The man continued to yell insults and slurs at them as Ezlan was carried outside and the others were ushered away. The man in light blue was last seen laughing while one of the adventurers poured beer on his two sleeping companions to try and wake them.

Ezlan would fully recover from the spell in a couple of hours. Aside from whatever he might have hit on the way out, he was unharmed.

The Muddy Ghoul Inn...

Later on that same day, assuming everybody found a reason to be at the tavern at the same time, a young adult woman with short cut, black hair made her way to them. She was pretty in an unremarkable way, fit enough to proudly wear the mark of the Shield Brethren and her left arm was splinted up and resting in a sling.

"Hey," she said, obviously nervous for... some reason. "So... I heard you're looking for Maddox. Right?"
I did not forget about you guys. This adventure is not over. I’m working some long night shift hours and it has been kicking my butt. I’m going to move this along this weekend one way ir another.

I really wanted to heve more posts for Dark in his sparring match but I’ve been dead whenever I get home. So sorry, guys and lady.
I dunno what’s up with the others. As far as I’m concerned, they are welcome to rejoin or otherwise post whenever they like. And if you want some more people to join us then some bumps should do. I’m okey with three but I’m happy with as many as are interested.
@Dark Light Alright! You are firmly in a fight now, Dark!
Inside the Tavern with No Name...

Nobody in the tavern had reached for a weapon yet. All of them had weapons on or near their persons just in case, though. All eyes watched Ezlan as he strutted up to one of the tables and continued addressing them. When he lifted the veteran's drink and began to throw it back right in front of him is when the fight started.

The double-hander didn't flinch despite Ezlan's impressive build. Indeed, the Caerbean was the strongest person in there hands-down. But the veteran didn't look to anybody else to see what he should do. He saw a man insulting him to his face. So he made ready to punch him out for it.

Ezlan was quicker on the draw, having readied himself. As the man realed back to punch, the Caerbean slugged him squarely with enough force to send him tumbling over the tablle - but not quite enough force to knock him out cold.

As he turned to announce himself, Ezlan would be able to get out only part of his introduction. "Ezlan," he yelled. "Son of a whore and a fisherman with too much coi-"

The adventurer wearing chain mail had jumped to his feet and charged Ezlan after seeing his fellow knocked down. Whether he spoke up until he was hit or stopped early would be up to Ezlan since the man wasn't stealthy in his approach. While he failed to knock Ezlan down, he did manage to grapple him. As this went on, the man who had been knocked down in the first place climbed unsteadily to his feet and began pulling himself around the table to join the fight.

On the other side of the room, the Ranger stood to his feet and casually picked up his bow. He made no attempt to grab for an arrow but he did tap one end of his bow on the floor loud enough to alert the others of his intention. His eyes were on Nemeia and Eomer. The fellow wearing the light blue cloak stood with a curious look on his face, trying to get a better view of the fight. Meanwhile, the two elite adventurers began moving toward the action. One of them, the shieldbearer, peeled off and began to put himself between Ezlan and his fellows. The other one seemed interested in hitting Ezlan a few times.


Well, if I ever ask for a roll then all I want is a number. I don’t need to see the roll itself so use whatever you want.

I’ll get a post out for you as soon as I can!
I need a 1d6 roll for Ezlan, please. Add +1 to it for your CS score and let me know what the result is.

Good post, by the way!

Unless you feel comfortable with me doing all the rolls, of course.
Inside the Tavern with No Name...

Those gathered already seemed stunned by Ezlan's dramatic entrance. By their expressions, this sort of thing just didn't happen. And as he walked around, after they were able to get a better look at him, the atmosphere of the room began to turn decidedly more hostile. When he stopped and asked who was in charge or who was serving, silence met him for a heartbeat.

"Who the fuck do you think you are," boomed the man sitting with the tiefling. Two people closer to the door got up and quietly left, one of them muttering, 'not dealing with this again'. The six others who remained, not counting the broken man and tiefling, looked ready to start throwing chairs.

While some of the patrons gathered began to get to their feet, the group would have time to see them more closely. Their equipment was worn but in good order. Their weapons were clean, although for now they were not in hand. Only one of them looked remotely green while two of them wore coins of bronze with a silver ring on the edge. They were from different guilds, of course, but the silver usually denoted an award or some level of excellence.

One figure stood out among the others. He wore comfortable looking cotton clothing (cotton being one of the more expensive materials to make clothing out of) and a light blue mantle cloak with a buckler and short sword strapped to his side. There was a much larger silver coin pinned to his shirt with a number of progressively smaller ones chained to it at the bottom. He wore a travel bag over his shoulder, looked to be in his late thirties, bald and sported a short but neatly trimmed and full beard which was stark white.


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