Posts made by Malyvern

“We'll be glad to have you with us,” says Malyvern, and he feels a deep sense of contentment. The room seems brighter, and the patrons more cheerful and less perturbed by the presence of so many beast-kin clad in armour. "It looks like we’re all set to go," Malyvern says and turns to leave, but he is interrupted as a chadra saunters through the front entrance.

Covered in sweat and dirt, the pale fur of the chadra is matted against the leather armour protecting his torso. He wears the face of a mercenary, clearly one of Glim’s men. At his sides are two axes, stained with a dark red.

“Sorry for the delay, boss, been fixing up the wagon,” he says, “she got busted up pretty badly crossing those mountains.” He eyes the mage, “who’s this, a new contract?”

Malyvern has been tucking into a strong breakfast of foraged mushrooms, potatoes and a pair of sausages he won in a wager from one of the other guests. The waitress sets down a complimentary cup of black coffee as the mage overhears a conversation on the other side of the tavern.
"Och, a healer! You'll find plenty of work in these parts I'm sure."

A healer. Restoration magic has never been Malyvern’s strong suit. The road to Kuasrine could be tough, and there is still no way to be sure what they might encounter when they reach the town. With his coffee in hand, the mage announces to the Erwydra,
“Aye, plenty of work to be had in these lands. You’ve strayed far from the safety of Arboreus,” he doesn’t intend for this to sound threatening, but is conscious that it could be perceived that way. The mage musters up a smile and nods at Glim and his mercenaries, “we’re headed to the nearby town of Kuasrine, perhaps you’d like to join us?”

Malyvern turns to the Nheedra and Udoadra, “I’ll prepare my horse for travel, she’s nestled out there somewhere. We’ll have plenty of time for me to tell you about the building that towers the town.”

(OOC In the next few posts, I will introduce a Chadra character called Ixuo. I imagine he was held up at the mountains and spent the night in the inn with the rest of the mercenaries.)

Malyvern breathes deeply through his pipe and exhales various patterns of smoke into the air, “morning Glim,” says the mage.

As he speaks, the mage's stomach growls with hunger at the sight of Glim’s apples. With a wave of his hand, the mage attempts to conjure an apple of his own, but it appears rotten and not very apple-like. With a cheery skip the ‘apple’ begins to wander off on its own. The mage watches with dubious curiousity and wounded pride as it rolls gently into the riverstream, bobbing away happily as if to taunt the tired, old mage, “hm, never quite got the hang of that one,” he sighs and wonders what the time the Grotto starts serving breakfast.

The distant crash of waves from Prestegne can be heard as the morning song of various birds flitter from the trees close to the mage and the Bear-kin. In the distance, the old Academy peeks out through the forest and the town of Kuasrine sits just below.

I’m not quite sure what to expect when we get to the town hall,” says the mage, “It’ll be a bit of a ride to Kuasrine and defensive magic around the academy prevents me from simply conjuring a portal there. We should make it by noon at least."

As the 'apple' continues to bob away, Malyvern laughs a little, “although, it’s probably safer if we take our horses in any case,” he says with a smile, "spotted an Erwydra sleeping in the tavern. One of yours?"

We are all friends here, Molibden! I'm sure many of us would consider ourselves introverted, though as you can see by the welcome don't feel like you need to be quiet.

If anyone is looking for a creative way to get their daily post, maybe you'd consider joining us in roleplay at The Singing Grotto?

(OOC Welcome to the Singing Grotto, Mimi. Glad to have you join us.)

It is the dawn of a new day. From within Malyvern’s room at the inn, the low light of the morning sun sends a gentle and welcome warmth. The mage awakens from a restless but otherwise comfortable slumber, the kind one has with a belly full of ale.

Hm, I don’t remember finding myself a room, muses the mage. He struggles to muster the energy to leave the bed and as he is mostly still clothed he simply slips into his cloak before he makes his way downstairs to the tavern below.

The mage is first greeted by the gently panting, friendly sheep dog who long ago made the tavern home and is considered to be a long-time resident of the Singing Grotto. Usually she will wander throughout the building and request to be patted by the various patrons and Malyvern had missed her company the previous night.
“Ah, Maisy,” says the mage, as he rustles the sheep dog’s brow, “where were you last night? You’re not one to be afraid usually.”

Maisy scampers off down the stairs, likely to find water and rest by her usual place near the fire. Malyvern follows and attempts to be as quiet as possible. It is still very early and the others have likely not awoken yet.

The mage meanders through the tavern, and spots an Erwydra curled up on the chair by the log fire, which has long since dwindled. The mage takes a moment to step outside the front door to the tavern to take in the warm, crisp air of the morning. Before him lies the town of Kuasrine, home to the Singing Grotto and the old Arcane Academy. With the frigid mountains to the west, and Prestegne waterfalls to the east, the town is a remarkably strategic location.

The mage searches his many pockets for his tobacco and sits on the ground directly next to the inn’s entrance as he waits for the others to awaken.

[OOC Cheers 21, I’ll change my original post. I’m going to move the story forward if that’s agreeable with everyone. New people joining can enter the tavern whenever they feel like, but the characters involved now can fast-forward to the morning and discuss the mission for the mercenaries and see what happens in the town hall.]

It has been a long night for the mage, and he is still scarred by the incident he came to the tavern to escape. He agrees with the Nheedra and his friend, it should probably be time to get some rest.

Malyvern turns to the bartender, “well, that’s enough excitement for one night,” he says.
“‘Till next time, Mal,” says the bartender.
“I expect I’ll find you both tomorrow at the town hall,” says the mage to the Nheedra and Udoadra, “though I’m sure you and your men will still have a fair amount of drink left in you,” he smiles.

As the mage turns to leave, he waves with his hand and his mug begins to fill with a liquid resembling Scoltail Liquor. The bartend responds with an angry glare.

(OOC Great to see you join TwentyOneBones. I’m referring to you here as a Nheedra, but let me know if that’s not correct. Apologies for the delay in response.)

With the arrival of a second Beast-kin, the three men exchange glances and appear to lower their gaite. Malyvern, who has now turned to face the men, recognises the shorter ones at the back as a pair of bandits he’d encountered long ago. Here however, they are dressed in what appears to be a uniform. The insignia is dotted with the initials “ORA”. It looks as though they have graduated from petty crime to working as militia, or they’ve found some justifiable purpose for their thuggish habits.

Malyvern shares a welcome grin at the newcomer. Just in time, he thinks. I don’t think they were expecting that.

“We have ridden from Avermore to present word from the Outer Regions Alliance,” the tallest of the three men announces. His bald head forms into something resembling a smile and he strides towards the middle of the room, “present yourselves to the town hall tomorrow at noon and be prepared to listen as our leader calls on you to rid you of your chains.”

Revolutionaries. Well, at least they aren’t looking for a fight just yet.

“Avermore? That is quite a ways away,” Malyvern says, “I imagine you’d like a fine ale after a journey like that.”

“Aye, we would,” the taller ORA says, and orders a drink in a surprisingly polite tone. The smaller two continue to exchange nervous glances. Civility doesn’t seem to suit them.

With the potentially dangerous situation averted, Malyvern turns to greet Phargought, “Pleasure to meet you,” he says with a friendly nod, “your friend has been regaling me with your journey across the Frigid mountains."

"I think I’d like to hear about what happened in Kavercombe,” Malyvern says with a smile.

[Malyvern is wearing a dark blue hooded robe, with what appears to be a myriad of leather belts and bandoliers across his chest and legs. There are potions and maybe some bombs, but these are concealed. His hood remains over his head and as he speaks, it is generally only the lower half of his face that can be seen which is mostly covered by his greying beard. What skin does show appears to be burnt, though a keen eye might deduce that the scarring is lightning induced rather than flame. He has no other visible weapons, only a dusty, brown tome with worn pages which rests within his inner left pocket. On his hands are rings of various sizes and colours.]

Malyvern maintains a calm position, and continues to rest his arm on the side of the bar. He waits to see what the men’s motivation might be. The bartender appears to do the same and continues to clean the glasses in front of him.

“There’ll be no trouble here,” says the bartender reassuringly, though it is clear the general friendly vibe of the Singing Grotto has turned on its edge, “unless you’re lookin’ for it.”

“Aye there’s no need,” says the tallest of the three men, “just as long as you’s all cooperate.”

@dawnstar14

Great! The RP community here is growing and now is a good time to get involved how about a quick character sheet so we know who your character is?

@DrExtremo

I think that's great a idea. Remember you get extra foundation points if you use your referral link.

(OOC I have updated my post, and this will be my last before heading to bed. Thanks, it's been fun. Cliffhanger to end the day.)

“You know you ain’t supposed to do that, Mal” says the bartender, patting away the smoke from the air, “wooden beams n’all.”

Malyvern nods at the Nheedra in affirmation,
“I don’t take you for the robbing type, friend,” the mage says, “taking that kinda route shows you’d rather take the time to do a job well than cut corners and find yourself in deeper trouble. That's a quality seldom possessed nowadays," he smiles, "t’is appreciated, I owe you a round and perhaps an explanation."

Malyvern looks around the room and opens his palm to reveal a dancing a flame, “I stopped by here to assemble a crew of people such as yourself and I’ve been waiting for them to make themselves known."
The mage has scarcely enough time to finish his sentence when suddenly he feels the rush of cold air as the door to the tavern is flung open aggressively. Three figures stand at the entrance with weapons in hand.

“Friends of yours?” asks the mage, and looks back at Glim.

‘Ah, there’s that famous bear-kin hospitality,’ Malyvern thinks and laughs as both assessments are somewhat true.
“Cheers,” says the mage, and he raises the glass of liquor. It’s warm and not too bitter. Scoltail always tastes better when free. “Folks don’t take too kindly to mages, and worse those who fought on the losing side of the war. These didn’t come easy and I try not to be seen most times.”

Malyvern pauses for a moment, then drinks the rest of the Scoltail liquor with a wince,
“Fairly treacherous route through the Frigid mountains, I do all I can to avoid it whenever I head west. Adds an extra week or so’s journey,” he says with appreciation.
“That merchant must have paid a lot of coin; not something I have a lot of at the moment. ”

“However....” says the mage, and before him appears an image of man within a conjured portrait of embers, “I might have a job that’s interesting enough."

Malyvern waves the portrait away, and looks directly at Glim, his expression cold and serious for the first time, “but we can discuss the details once your men are well-rested.”

(OOC Apologies for the delayed response, I've been kept busy with work today.)

The name rings in Malyvern’s ear. Glim. He’s sure he has heard it before, whispered even. He’s surprised, bear-kin aren’t necessarily known for their hospitality. This one seems comfortable drinking among humans, probably well-traveled and used to their games. The magister does his best to hide his expression as he extends his hand to greet the Nheedra, whilst wondering where the rest of the pack might be.

“Well, welcome to the Singing Grotto, Glim. Around these parts the people know me as Malyvern. Tell you the truth, I’ve grown fond of the name over the years," says the magister and he turns to look at the other patrons of the inn.
“Not many places left a mage can feel welcome," he says, and motions his hand across the room,
"What brings you here, Glim?”

Malyvern chuckles and simply flips the coin from heads to tails.
“I believe you owe me a Scoltail Liquor, stranger,” the mage says and places the coin back in his pouch, “I hope there are no bad feelings.”

The bartender scowls at the magister once more, perhaps the trick was funny at first, as the bartender expected Malyvern to use some kind of conjuration magic but now his expression is simply that of mild amusement.

“Say, what was your name?”

“Those are stakes I can live with, friend,” Malyvern says, a cheerful gleam in his eye,
“Now, watch closely as I perform the unthinkable.”

The magister begins to chant unfathomable words from a surely long-lost dialect and waves his hands in the air as if to conjure some of the very essence of Elysium. The Inn at this point is a mixture of patrons who have seen the trick before and are uninterested and those who have moved closer to take a look.

With a sudden bang, Malyvern slams his hand on the table. The mug rocks slightly. This is one of the mage’s favourite tricks and as he gets into the spirit of things he begins to speak as showmen do when presenting feats of magic at old fayres,
“Now lift the mug and prepare to be amazed.”

@whoatethecat

Aha, you're completely right. Perhaps I should have played my cards closer to the chest. Still, there are always more surprises to reveal through roleplay.

@drextremo

Thank you for joining, I look forward to seeing your character in action. Perhaps you would like to join in the community roleplay at The Singing Grotto Inn?

@WhoAteTheCat

That would be perfect. My apologies, the original post only mentions Demons, however all races would be accepted if their backstory fit with the direction the guild is taking (typically neutral, and with an emphasis on the magical and connection to Elysium. Your character would be a welcome addition.)

Malyvern pauses for a moment as he speculates the kind of work this Nheedra would undertake. The mage has angered a bear-kin before and it didn’t end well for him. Still, his coinpouch is light and he is in the mood for another drink. With a quick gulp, Malyvern finishes the rest of his drink and produces the last coin from his pouch. He turns the coin to reveal both sides and places it on the bar table heads-up. The bartender scowls slightly, he’s seen this trick a number of times before but says nothing to help the newcomer.

Placing his empty mug over the coin the mage announces loud enough for the room to hear,
“I will turn this coin from heads to tails, without touching this mug.” Malyvern holds his hands up, “If I’m able to, this bear-kin owes me a Scoltail Liquor."

"What do you say?” says the Magister with a wry smile.

So this is something I drew up for my character. It's very simple, but the basics are there.

Name: Malyvern of Kuasrine
Age: Unknown, though the coarse wrinkles around his eyes and his weathered smile betray his age as older than he appears.
Profession: Magister
Race: Human
Gender: Male

Describe your character's history:

Malyvern is a conjurer, but don't let his friendly wizardly appearance fool you - he has spent many nights ridding travelers of their coin in taverns across Syndesia with parlour tricks and spectacle. Never accept his invitation to a bet.

As time as worn on and the land relies more on steam-powered machinery, Malyvern and mages like him have resisted the change, favouring more 'traditional' arcane arts. Malyvern believes fervently that the shift towards machines is against the natural order of Syndesia and his among a group of mages hoping to restore the Arcane Academy.

@whoatethecat (OOC Glad to have you aboard, thanks for joining in!)

Malyvern smiles, he hasn’t seen a Nheedra in this area in quite some time. The Singing Grotto has always been host to the wildest of characters. The mage motions with his hand, and gently lights a flame at the top of his drink. “You’re right, these winters are growing harsher each passing year,” he says and turns to the newcomer, his hood just barely concealing the burn scars across his face, and damaged right eye.

“Haven’t seen you ‘round here before. Grotto’s the only place to find a decent log burner nowadays. Care for a wager?” the mage says, as the bartender shoots him a warning look.

(Edit: We have moved! New thread can be found here: The Arcanist's Mill.

Thank you all for bringing such great writing and characters to the story I look forward to seeing what else we can come up with)!

This should be a bit of fun for everyone, and maybe a creative way to get your daily post in too. The idea is that this is a tavern located on the human world of Syndesia. With your character in mind, you can enter the tavern and speak to whoever you like. You don’t need any previous experience to join in and you can change what happens at a moments notice.

The only rule is that you write for your character and allow for others to respond to your actions. Otherwise, feel free to tell a story, order a drink, start a brawl or simply enjoy the evening. I’m sure there’ll be somebody who can provide some music?

A few things:

Syndesia is the human planet in Fractured, but all races can visit. Any character of any race is allowed to enter this particular tavern. The results of which I will allow for you to decide.

Start with a brief description of your character, so we know how to respond when you join the conversation.

Have fun.

From the outside it looks enchanting, warm and folksy. Clay and hardwooden pillars make up most of the building's outer structure. A sign above the door reads “The Singing Grotto Inn”.
It's hard to see through the small, stained glass windows, but the sounds of cutlery and drinking glasses from within can be felt outside.

As you enter the tavern through the old, wooden door, you're welcomed by a pleasant atmosphere and overall happiness.
The bartender is busy, but still manages to welcome you with a short wave.

It's as enchanting inside as it is on the outside. Rounded, wooden beams support the upper floor and the large candles attached to them. The walls are decorated with the flag of the local Syndesian kingdom and it's clear the owner, and probably the customers, feel very strongly about their patriotism.

The tavern itself is packed. Groups belonging to some kind of organization, whether sport, music or other you're not sure of, seem to be the primary clientele here, which could be seen as a bad sign, though you're sure it's not. Several long tables are occupied by, what seems to be the entire surrounding village. The other, smaller tables are also occupied by people who seem to be enjoying themselves a lot, perhaps too much, if such a thing is possible. Even most of the stools at the bar are occupied, though nobody seems to mind more company.

You did hear rumors about this tavern, supposedly it's famous for something, but you can't remember what for. You manage to find a seat and prepare for what will undoubtedbly be a great evening.

The night has drawn in and the warmth of the tavern’s log fire welcomes new travelers to take shelter from the harsh weather outside.

A human man you haven’t seen before takes a seat at the bar. He seemingly appeared from nowhere. Many of the other patrons don’t notice his sudden entrance but the bartender barely looks from the glass he is cleaning to welcome the man,“ ‘lo Malyvern,” he says with hardly a grunt.

Malyvern, as the appearing man seems to be known, motions for a drink and sits on an empty chair at the bar. He raises his glass as if to welcome conversation. He seems like a man with a story to tell.