conversations: human
conversations:  This tale is one of adventure and intrigue, of quests and treasures.
  
  So, like most such tales, it all begins in a tavern. . .
   
  In the center of New Hope lies The Goat's Head, where the mead is sweet but the gals are sweeter . . . Or at least that's what the sign says.
  
  In actuality, the only "gal" that works at the Goat's Head is Gretta.  Gretta is the sixty five year old human woman that runs the place with her Fey husband Alby.
  
  As usual, Alby's off in the gutter somewhere, so Gretta happens to be manning the bar this particular evening.
  
  The smell of cheap ales and pine smoke fill the air of the little inn and the hum of drunken conversation bounces around the room.
  
  A mixed group of Fey and Human boys sit towards the back, boasting of women and trying to top each others stories while a team of Kobold stonemasons sit slumped over the bar, grumbling to one another about their workday.
  
  Across the room, near the entrance, a Fey guardsmen in chainmail leans against the wall, eying the crowd.
  
  All in all, it's an average day for the Goat's Head. Or, well, it was until a man they call Repeat walked in.
  
  Repeat is short, plump Kobold that got his name because he always had the latest gossip to repeat.
  
  Well, Tonight Repeat was in rare form. He skipped his way towards the bar and slapped a silver piece down on the hardwood.
  
   I'mma need a double tonight, Gretta! I'm gonna be rich! 
  
  Gretta merely rolled her eyes and poured him a shot. Repeat came through with all sorts of wild tales, so this wasn't so unusual, but he just wouldn't let it go.
  
   I'm tellin' ya, Gretta! The magistrate says he's gonna give  five hundred  gold pieces to whoever finds that boy!  
  
  This got some of the other patron's attention. A few of the other Kobolds started asking questions in Draconic, and some Few boys wandered up from the back to learn more.
  
  Soon all the questions ran together in a loud buzz, before Gretta had enough and started yelling.
  
   Look, y'all! It ain't polite to talk about the magistrate's business, and we all know that none of you are stepping foot outside that wall! 
  
  She looked back down at the bar and went back to pouring drinks.
  
   Besides, It ain't right to humor his wild fantasies. 
  
  Before long, things settled back down to normal, but what had been said had been said, and a hint of tension lay in the air.
conversations: DixieDevil:
conversations: human
conversations:  Ingvarr sat at the bar, laughing with a couple of mates as he swigged an ale. He ignored the kobold as he walked in. Like as not, he was spreading more scurrilous rumours or scandalous gossip. But not today. Today, he was all aflutter about some bounty. As if the rotund little creature could ever manage to collect on it. And oooh, ahhhh, the prize money was a whole five hundred gold pieces. That caught his companions ears, and they headed over to join the group around the kobold, but he just sat back and took another gulp of his ale. Why, the sword at his hip cost near that much.
  
  But then, as the commotion began to build up, a voice cut through the babble.   "...we all know that none of you are stepping foot outside that wall!"  
  
  Well, it was true. No-one left the wall, not except for the foolish and desperate. He had no fear of what lay outside, of course; it just wasn't done. But for someone to say it outright like that fair riled him. It was almost like a dare, and he had never been one to turn aside from a challenge to his pride. That, and the drink, may be held accountable for his actions.
  
  Rising, he spoke into the silence that followed the innkeeps speech. Even mellowed by the ale, his voice was hard and strong.   "That a fact?"   Jumping to stand on his barstool, he spoke out over the crowd.   "Come on, lads! Let's prove old Gretta wrong for a change! My blood is up and I'll no' stand such a slur. If any man among ye has the courage, follow me! The outside beckons!"  
conversations: sean_hyer:
conversations: human
conversations:  "Good luck with that."   he shouted after the lunatic who just spoke up. Leave the expeditions beyond the wall to the professionals, soldiers trained for that very thing, taking another swig from his glass.
  
   
   Spoiler 
  
  Someone needs to drag the SCIENTIST! out :P
   
conversations: The_Admiral:
conversations: human
conversations:  Jack sat quietly in by the bar in the tavern, idly rolling a silver coin through her fingers. She had come here to raise some more funds for her goal, but found the patrons too mean or poor or informed about her good fortune to engage her in any games of chance.
  
  Her ears perked up at the kobold rumourmonger's words, interesting indeed.
  
  She rolled her eyes at the drunk swordsman's bravado, ignoring his rabble-rousing. He and his friends were welcome to get themselves killed in the wild without proper planning, but when she went, she would go under Fharlagn's hand.
  
  She flicked her silver coin to Gretta,  "I'll get this one"  she turned to the kobold, smiling,  "You look like you could use the drink" 
conversations: Lionheart:
conversations: human
conversations:  Sit down, boy! You're drunk!  Gretta called to Ingvarr as she caught the coin.
  
  Repeat looks up at Jack and gives her a toothy grin before guzzling down the drink.  Thank ye! Thank ye! I'll repay the favor as soon as I'm rollin' in the gold! 
conversations: DixieDevil:
conversations: human
conversations:  Artoria sat at the corner table which often found her presence, nursing a glass of wine from early in the night. Her piercing eyes scanned the room, looking to see who may take arms in the situation. Her sword lay sheathed on the table in front of her, making it clear she did not desire company.
  
  
   "How old?"  Is all she says, with an air of authority and conviction as she stands and takes up her sword. She looks as though she would battle the darkness itself should it come to that.
conversations: riccaru:
conversations: human
conversations:  Jack cast a weather eye at the woman bearing her sword, this one was dangerous.
  
  She mustered her best smile and opened her arms wide in a gesture of welcome.  "A most pertinent question. Indeed, any information you could give us on this missing boy would be most appreciated. We wouldn't want your rise to fortune to go unsung, would we?" 
conversations: Lionheart:
conversations: human
conversations:  From an open door leading to the kitchens a small head pops out belonging to a inquisitive kobold. Svar had worked the last week at the Goats Head and was seriously doubting if that is what his walk-about was supposed to be about but he had to pay for his keep in the city. The few other jobs he had gotten ranged from humiliating to boring or had an odd combination of the two. This, cleaning the kitchen, was undoubtably much better but he felt he was wasting his time.
  The commotion had him excited, he had overheard bits and pieces but now looked straight at a brute of a man exclaiming he would go beyond the wall.
  
  Svar couldn't contain himself and right then and there, filled with wanderlust and sense of adventure and not to mention a deep hatred for scrubbing pans, he spoke up.
  
   'Ill join you! Ill go!'  He shouts into the room at Ingvarr.
conversations: LuckyStrike:
conversations: human
conversations:  Turning to Gretta he asks,   "....How many suicidal idiots are in here today?"   slightly confused as to the number of people declaring that they would go past the wall.
conversations: The_Admiral:
conversations: human
conversations:  Repeat looks up at the two humans who were suddenly showing him a little attention.  The boy's at least twenty. He went outside near a month ago, and never returned. The money goes to whoever brings back the boy, alive or dead.  A look of uneasiness crosses Repeat's face, until he remembers the money once more and goes back to grinning like a child.
  
  Gretta gives James a sad look,  It just goes to show how bad times are gettin'. When reasonable men start doin' unreasonable things for money . . .  
conversations: DixieDevil:
conversations: human
conversations:  ".....Have you seen Jane? I have the hankering to make her fifty gold poorer."   he asks, retrieving a scroll from his robes, taking another swig.
  
   
   Spoiler: OOC 
  
  I'm taking the invention of calculus story :PP Making people up
   
conversations: The_Admiral:
conversations: human
conversations:  Artoria steps up onto the table, her arms open wide as if in invitation to the townspeople around her.  "Is it so unreasonable to do something other than cower behind these walls from an enemy we have never seen? Is it unreasonable to want more for ourselves than the fear of the open sky?"  She steps forward off the table and hits the ground roughly with her feet.
  
   "I say it's  unreasonable  for these men to cower in the comforts of the wall while a boy travels in the open like the men of old. I for one will not let a childish fear of the dark keep me from my reward. Who else will follow?"  She calls openly to the others, trying to goad them into going with her.
conversations: riccaru:
conversations: human
conversations:  The Fey Guardsman stands from his resting place against the wall. He rolls his eyes, stretches, and lets out a groan. He was getting too old for this.
  
  He had heard many boastful drunks in here before, and he always took pleasure in calling them out.
  
  After putting on his "serious face", he strided towards Artoria.
  
   Miss, get down from the table. Perhaps you've had too much to drink, but you can't go around saying such things. You're liable to start a riot! If, in the morning when you've sobered up, you still feel like venturing out into the wild, I'll open the doors for you myself. 
conversations: DixieDevil:
conversations: human
conversations:  Svar, who had briefly disappeared into the kitchens, now steps into the tavern sporting a chainshirt covering his torso. He has a sack hanging over his shoulder and a handaxe dangling from his belt. The most prolific change is that the towel he was washing dishes with is now a repeater crossbow held in his right hand. In his left he holds a tribal looking longspear. Most of his items are covered in crude runes painted on in earthy tones of red and yellow. Where he has stashed these things for the last week is anyone's guess.
  He sees Artoria on the table and climbs one himself to address Artoria from the other side of the bar, who seems to be bothered by some guardsman or other. Svar shouts to try and overshout the guardsman and get the formidable womans attention.
  
   'Svar Feather-foot of the Bad-Moon, at your service! Hunting and tracking is what I do! For the honor of my tribe I accept your job offer and hereby pledge my services to accompany you beyond the wall and help in any way I can to bring the boy back!' 
  
  He takes a bow like he has seen the bards frequenting the place do after their speeches and hops off the table. He looks at Gretta as he does so and adds a powerful  'I quit!!!'  before he lands.
conversations: LuckyStrike: