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Thread: The Green Dragon Tavern

  1. #16
    Forum Addict scorpio86's Avatar
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    watching and listening to ME ORC makes superalitive and insightful conversation with Marksmen as i sit by the fire
    Last edited by scorpio86; 07-12-2011 at 12:45.

  2. #17
    Forum Addict scorpio86's Avatar
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    Slaps everybody in the room across the face to get a reaction
    LIVE LONG AND PROSPER

  3. #18
    I like to post KuhaN's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by ME ORC View Post
    Me look for strong drink! Me hope strong drink here. *Orc sit at bar, look at marksman* "Me know you?"
    Roflmao
    "Go back to the gym because you f'king suck at utopia, noob." -Godly



    My classic black theme for Utopia - Updated 5/13/15

    Quote Originally Posted by darkl1ght View Post
    Unfortunately, no amount of razes will improve your war record
    Greatest strategy thread/question of all-time.

  4. #19
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    'Fraid I don't know you. Pretty sure I'd remember that smell."

  5. #20
    Regular Gredifael's Avatar
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    A quiet humming sound slowly arose from one of the taverns corners, and along with it flickering lights in all sorts of colours started to dance across the wall. The source of the light was nowhere to be seen but as the humming increased in power, the seemingly random spread of lights slowly focused to one single spot, not bigger than a melon. Then with a loud "CRACK", the lights suddenly became a hole in the wall from which a slender humanoid being, carrying a leather pouch twice his own size and more, came flying at a great speed to abruptly crash into the tavern bar and hit the floor. Hastily, and a bit wobbly, the being got up on his feet to swirl around and look for anything that might follow him through the hole in the wall.

    After standing ready for action the winged little creature then relaxed some and smiled as the only thing that was coming through his rapidly shrinking magic portal were muffled shouts, suggesting him to shove all kinds of sharp things up "...where the sun don't shine!", and "...where the wind doesn't blow!", and so on until the portal finally closed with a quiet "plop".

    "Stupid Elves", the Faery chuckled to himself with a high-pitched voice. "Good at magic, but they have never really understood the value of protecting their border from good quality thieving!"

    Cheerfully whistling on a tune that moved between notes too high for most creatures to perceive, the Faery known as Gredifael now turned his attention to his fresh loot. He felt no remorse whatsoever for relieving his distant cousins from the heap of runes, as they always carried so much more than they actually needed anyway. He considered his profession a sort of cross-kingdom aid. Forced upon the aid-giver, of course, but morally defendable.

    With greedy fingers Gredifael started to fiddle with knots big as his own head, as he suddenly realized the good in scouting his new surroundings. The loot could wait for a little while longer. He eyed his slightly roughed wings while muttering about sharp things his pursuers had not thought about, and where he indeed would put them the next time it was time for a visit.

    After making sure a new flight wouldn't drop him on his head again, the Faery then carefully hovered higher to peek over the edge of the tavern bar. It was full of all kinds of creatures. Quickly he pulled his head down below the edge again.

    "Looks like a filled tavern", he thought to himself, "nothing unusual for this time at night, but why is it this quite? Something's not right here."

    After stashing the runes under a loose plank he found behind the bar, Gredifael inspected the tavern room and its guests more closely. Avians, Dwarves, Elves, Halflings, Humans, Orcs (even an Undead were standing at the bar!); all of the most common races of Utopia were represented, with himself included. All as different from each other as cats and dogs, but all had they one thing in common. They stood motionless.

    "Well isn't this eerie?", Gredifael said out loud, mostly to hear something else than the pressing complete silence. As curiosity managed to win over fear he then cautiously flew around the room to eye the statue-like (yet breathing) guests more closely.

    He poked the nose of one freckled, tall Human; he tugged on the beard of a dwarf-woman that was dressed like a bar-owner; he pulled a feather from an Avian, who had froze in the middle of a clunk of pixie juice; he flew dangerously near the open jaws of an Orc that looked like he was just about to scream something to his neighbour (yep, definitely breathing, and in serious need of a toothbrush). And the room was as still as when he first had got there.

    Although thieving always had been his life, as a creature of Fae, Gredifael was no stranger to magic. This was no doubt the doings of a very powerful sorcerer. But Gredifael wasn't in one of Utopias many kingdoms now he knew. Although never sure on the exact location a portal would take him to, he was skilled enough to determine which island he wanted to go to. And this was neutral grounds. Sure, utopians often fought, often died, in taverns like this, but who would benefit from putting a group this random outside of time? The evildoer must have been someone from outside. As an even smaller Faery, Gredifael had often heard tales of strange realms in other universes like Azeroth, or Sanctuary. Heavy populated, colourful and flashy but without essence; without that unpolished rawness that always had defined Utopia. Could this black magic stem from one of them?

    "Whoever, whatever and why ever this is, it must be undone", the Faery thought to himself. The leather bag was soon before him again and while sticking in his head to pull out some of its contents he tried to come up with a fitting spell.

    "they'restillbreathingsotheycan'tgetanimated...reflectit?notoolate...wellthissureashellisnoparadises omaybe...". He continued to mumble before sticking his head out again.

    Finally he had made his choice. He gathered the right amount of runes and begun casting, and the spell... fizzled. The sound of a small explosion echoed through the tavern, loudly enough to drown the sudden squeak that pushed itself over the stunned Faery's lips.

    "Oberon's hoof up your hairy, swollen...", Gredifael muttered as he tried to spit out ash from his mouth, while checking if any part of his face were missing. This is why he had chosen a rogues way of life.

    A couple of tries later Gredifael was top to toe covered in soot he no longer bothered to try and wipe off. He looked at what had once been a great heap of runes, calculated the poor remains and sighed.

    "Well, there's enough left for one more try. One more shot. You can do this, you half-witted fae. Ok, here goes nothing."

    He gather the runes and begin casting, and the spell...
    Last edited by Gredifael; 07-07-2012 at 10:10.

  6. #21
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    ((Excuse my OOCness, but I wanted to compliment the post above me without actually adding anything tangible or on topic to the thread. I do feel - aside from the mild disappointment that there are not dozens of posts like the one above given the amount of time this thread has existed - like your post does not belong here. This place descended into a realm lacking in creativity and originality almost immediately after the topic was originated. I might be called elitest, but this in here could hardly be termed RP. Well done to Gredifael however...your post was a good read. :P ))

  7. #22
    News Correspondent
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    just getting meh post count up nothing to see here

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