Archief - De Kerstbal en slinger ZWAMthread
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Starrk
Legacy Member
It was early in the evening, and the stagnant heat that prevailed throughout the day had started to dissipate. A light breeze began to drift in from the east, kicking up small clouds of sand in the streets. From low on the desert flats, the last rays of sunlight gleamed over the horizon and flickered across the pale mud bricks and wooden planks of the marketplace. The orange light set a fiery gleam to the wares that the merchants were hawking. The people in the city square filled the air with sounds of arguing and haggling. Slowly, a man stumbled out of a sidestreet and entered the plaza, pushing and twisting his way through the crowd. A few of the merchants called to him from their stands, but he shook his head at them curtly and pressed on.
The man was wore a nondescript tan surcoat, loose breeches, and black leather boots. He was fairly tall, and his lean profile belied muscles jutting out from beneath his clothing. He was dark skinned and dark eyed, and his short hair was streaked with grey at the temples. He had a long face framed with an unkempt beard, and a mouth permanently twisted in self-mocking curl of the lip. But his most revealing features were his sunken eyes, lined with dark purplish red skin. They were from a man who had been through too much for far too long. The many years of hard drinking left a dark yellow cast to the edges of his eyes.
The man finished crossing the marketplace and paused at the entrance of a small, wooden building. He looked up briefly, giving a glance at the faded sign that read Blue Boar Inn. Altogether not the best tavern in town, he noted, but it did not matter too much to him.
He stepped into the building, and at once the loud din of the crowd and the sour odour of spilt ale greeted him. The autumn Equinox celebrations fell on this night, and a large crowd had turned up to celebrate accordingly. In a desert city like Lut Gholein, there was little use for farming holidays, but traditions apparently died hard. In any case, most men would be happy with any excuse for merrymaking and getting drunk. The man made his way over to an empty stool on the far corner and seated himself.
"Ho, Veridan," the bartender greeted, "How was the day today?"
"Busy. Far too bloody busy," the man replied. His voice was a low baritone, with a lilting accent and a monotonous quality. "The fall harvest shipments are starting to come in droves, and the blasted palace refuses to hire more hands at the docks. I had to unload a shipment of grain practically by myself today while two more bloomin' ships were waiting to be moored in. Thanks," he added as the bartender slid a tankard of ale across the counter.
"Why couldn't the ships dock?" the bartender asked, "Wasn’t the extra pier Jerhyn built over the summer was suppose to handle all the extra traffic?"
Veridan snorted derisively. "The new pier is sitting there doing sod all. It's closed. Last night they found a fellow floating in the water - what was left of him anyway. They spent the entire day fishing pieces of him out of the water," Veridan frowned, and the bartender refilled his glass. "The guards were trying to keep hush about the bloody affair - bad for business, you see. But I went down there and had a look for myself. Most damned thing you'd ever see. Looks as if some angry animal ripped him up into small pieces and tossed him in the sea for the bloody fish to eat."
"Appetizing," the bartender noted dryly, "All these dead lately is rather unusual, don't you think? First they found old Fontain crushed to a pulp down there, and last week that fellow that ran the supply shop got hacked to death outside the gates. Never liked his sniveling anyway," he paused to pour Veridan a third glass of ale. "I've been hearing all sorts of tales about creatures crawling out of the desert and attacking folk. When is Jerhyn going to send the city guards down there? You'd think those overgrown louts could do a little more than standing around on street corners and breaking up fights."
"He already sent some, but it looks like they can’t do much," Veridan said darkly, downing his ale, "They fellow they found there ripped up last night was a guard."
er is niks beter dan een beetje lore.
The man was wore a nondescript tan surcoat, loose breeches, and black leather boots. He was fairly tall, and his lean profile belied muscles jutting out from beneath his clothing. He was dark skinned and dark eyed, and his short hair was streaked with grey at the temples. He had a long face framed with an unkempt beard, and a mouth permanently twisted in self-mocking curl of the lip. But his most revealing features were his sunken eyes, lined with dark purplish red skin. They were from a man who had been through too much for far too long. The many years of hard drinking left a dark yellow cast to the edges of his eyes.
The man finished crossing the marketplace and paused at the entrance of a small, wooden building. He looked up briefly, giving a glance at the faded sign that read Blue Boar Inn. Altogether not the best tavern in town, he noted, but it did not matter too much to him.
He stepped into the building, and at once the loud din of the crowd and the sour odour of spilt ale greeted him. The autumn Equinox celebrations fell on this night, and a large crowd had turned up to celebrate accordingly. In a desert city like Lut Gholein, there was little use for farming holidays, but traditions apparently died hard. In any case, most men would be happy with any excuse for merrymaking and getting drunk. The man made his way over to an empty stool on the far corner and seated himself.
"Ho, Veridan," the bartender greeted, "How was the day today?"
"Busy. Far too bloody busy," the man replied. His voice was a low baritone, with a lilting accent and a monotonous quality. "The fall harvest shipments are starting to come in droves, and the blasted palace refuses to hire more hands at the docks. I had to unload a shipment of grain practically by myself today while two more bloomin' ships were waiting to be moored in. Thanks," he added as the bartender slid a tankard of ale across the counter.
"Why couldn't the ships dock?" the bartender asked, "Wasn’t the extra pier Jerhyn built over the summer was suppose to handle all the extra traffic?"
Veridan snorted derisively. "The new pier is sitting there doing sod all. It's closed. Last night they found a fellow floating in the water - what was left of him anyway. They spent the entire day fishing pieces of him out of the water," Veridan frowned, and the bartender refilled his glass. "The guards were trying to keep hush about the bloody affair - bad for business, you see. But I went down there and had a look for myself. Most damned thing you'd ever see. Looks as if some angry animal ripped him up into small pieces and tossed him in the sea for the bloody fish to eat."
"Appetizing," the bartender noted dryly, "All these dead lately is rather unusual, don't you think? First they found old Fontain crushed to a pulp down there, and last week that fellow that ran the supply shop got hacked to death outside the gates. Never liked his sniveling anyway," he paused to pour Veridan a third glass of ale. "I've been hearing all sorts of tales about creatures crawling out of the desert and attacking folk. When is Jerhyn going to send the city guards down there? You'd think those overgrown louts could do a little more than standing around on street corners and breaking up fights."
"He already sent some, but it looks like they can’t do much," Veridan said darkly, downing his ale, "They fellow they found there ripped up last night was a guard."
er is niks beter dan een beetje lore.
Time
Legacy Member
T_N_T zei:vraagje wanneer begint nieuwe ladder (het eerste seizoen duurde 9 maand zeker?) maar dunno hoeveelste maand we nu zitten in 2de... Dusja als iemand da weet tell meh
kzeg het hier maar want die vraag zal prolly al veel gesteld zijn geweest
niemand weet het
en zelfs als blizzard afkomt met "soon..." eevet geen zin van te gisse
ik hoop begin februari, examens gedaan en paar dagskes vrij in de week
Het archief is een bevroren moment uit een vorige versie van dit forum, met andere regels en andere bazen. Deze posts weerspiegelen op geen enkele manier onze huidige ideeën, waarden of wereldbeelden en zijn op sommige plaatsen gecensureerd wegens ontoelaatbaar. Veel zijn in een andere tijdsgeest gemaakt, al dan niet ironisch - zoals in het ironische subforum Off-Topic - en zouden op dit moment niet meer gepost (mogen) worden. Toch bieden we dit archief nog graag aan als informatiedatabank en naslagwerk. Lees er hier meer over of start een gesprek met anderen.