Faces, the rpg-thread

[Khazbad]

forgive me for starting this in the same manner every D&D campaign seems to start but...

You find yourself in a tavern. A glance to your left reveals a man who seems to resemble every villain in Arda. To your right sits a dwarf, carefully adjusting what appears to be a crown atop his bald head. Wandering about the common room is a blonde hobbit with a lute. "Keep an eye on her," you think to yourself, "hobbits just can't be trusted."

Behind the bar, the tavern-keep waves to get your attention. "Welcome to Faces," he says, "Quite easily the oddest tavern in Middle-Earth. What're you drinking?"

A grunt comes from your right, and you turn to look at the dwarf. "Hail to the King, baby," he says...

[Waterlily]

Oh yeah??

The blonde Hobbit in the back of the room chugs a pint of frothy ale, slams her mug on the worn wooden table with a smile and begins to tune her lute. An ornately patterned purple robe fastened by a fine sapphire clasp rests on her back. People of every race set lavish jewels and fragrant flowers at her hairy feet, begging for a song. For this is no ordinary Hobbit, but Waterlily Pondblossom herself, the finest minstrel in all of Middle Earth, healer of the ill and raiser of the dead, and queen of a kingdom called Landroval!

She sniffs the air and cringes as she turns toward a foul odor. "Aha..." she thinks to herself. "I should have known. King Khazbad!"

[highlandgirl]

The door to the inn opens, and a tall, lithe elf walks in. Brookethorne Tankini is covered head to toe in massive plate armor, with an immense grey and red cloak shrouding her dark, black hair and a small, silver crown hooked on her belt. She looks around curiously at the small, blond hobbit chugging ale. Then she picks up an odor . . . of what, she has no idea, but it reminds her of stale beer and hot forges. She looks over the the bar and sees Khazbad hunched on his barstool.

"This is my kind of place," she thinks to herself.

Striding over to the little hobbit, she sits at a nearby table.

Tossing a dainty, sapphire necklace at the lady, she says, "I hear you are Waterlily Pondblossom, the most famous minstrel in all Middle-Earth. I have just come from battling some Orcs north of Bree, and one of your songs would certainly take the sting out out of these old bones."

[Khazbad]

The dwarf continues to adjust his crown, finding it difficult to get it to stay on, partially because he is attempting to wear it atop his helm, but mostly because he's feeling the effects that come with being the best customer of the night in the Tavern. Frustrated with it all, he pulls some wax out of a satchel - "Why did I buy so much damn wax?" he thought to himself, as the wax stirred memories in his head of the maiden he purchased it from, which in turned stirred more memories, reminding him why he bought the extra wax in the first place - she was no Galadriel, that was certain, and she lacked a certain hirsuteness commonly found amongst the women of his own race, but for a human, well, she wasn't bad.

Using the wax to secure the crown atop his helm, Khazbad peered out from his helm and found his attention fixated by two visions before him. He wanted one, both if possible, but found it hard to decide between them

mead or ale...mead or ale...

Before he could make his choice, he caught a glimpse of a Man, likely of Gondor, with hair longer than a dwarf's beard. There was something else about him, something...something...

Khazbad coughed loudly, gaining the man's attention and simultaneously dislodging a hunk of cheese that had been bothering him for nearly a fortnight, "You there, human," he asked, much in the way a Downs Lynx asks a bystander to move along...or else, "Has anyone ever told you that you look an awful lot like..."

[Waterlily]

Waterlily glances up at the lovely elf approaching her... way up. Brookethorne Tankini ((nice surname, hehehe)) is as tall as she is beautiful, and Waterlily obliges her battle-weary elven ears with one of the most inspiring tunes she can muster. After the song ends, the wee Hobbit turns to Brookethorne with a smile.

"So good to see you! Here, have a Dragon's Breath Ale on me." Waterlily offers, and slides a pint toward Brookethorne. "They get this recipe from the Shire... and it is sure to cure your ills, milady."

Just then, Waterlily hears a loud, obtrusive cough from the other side of the room. She begins to chuckle as she sees a large chunk of Khazbad's lung, or whatever it is, ewww... flying across the room. But the humor leaves her quicker than Holly Hornblower can ruin pie as she notices the man of Gondor standing next to the dwarf Khazbad......