This is a casual roleplay for building connections and having fun, of course. Everyone, from a dragon to your local mailman, is welcome no matter what setting they're from; even if the tavern itself leans on more medieval vibes. Oh! And there is no need to ask before entering your character.
Rule To Abide By
🍻 Keep it PG-13ish. That means no F-bombs or C words.
🍻 Respect other players, please! No godmodding or 'dead chat' comments.
🍻 Please make use of unnamed NPCs to pass drinks, food, or other items as you'd like if I'm not there or occupied with someone else.
🍻 Be respectful of immersion. (Example: Crashing your dragon OC through the roof in a way that forces everyone to notice you would be considered disruptive, and generally not cool.)
🍻 No narrative bigotry please! I want this to be a safe and welcoming place.
🍻 Respect other players, please! No godmodding or 'dead chat' comments.
🍻 Please make use of unnamed NPCs to pass drinks, food, or other items as you'd like if I'm not there or occupied with someone else.
🍻 Be respectful of immersion. (Example: Crashing your dragon OC through the roof in a way that forces everyone to notice you would be considered disruptive, and generally not cool.)
🍻 No narrative bigotry please! I want this to be a safe and welcoming place.
*I have added a rule regarding narrative bigotry.
*.*.*.*.*
From the outside it looks cozy, enchanting and delightful. Softwood and thick, hard-wooden logs make up most of the building's outer structure. It's near impossible to see through the small, curtained windows, but the hustling and bustling from within can be felt outside.
As you enter the tavern through the thick, wooden door, you're welcomed by excitement and dancing people. The bartender is a little preoccupied, but still manages to welcome you with a short wave. It's as lovely inside as it is on the outside. Squared, stone beams support the upper floor and the chandeliers attached to them. The walls are clear of anything, though signs do show plenty of things used to hang on the walls, though they've probably been knocked off by customers who had too much to drink.
The tavern itself is packed. Locals seem to be the primary clientele here, which could be seen as the best sign you can get. Several long tables are occupied by, what must be separate groups who have bonded over great food and conversation. The other, smaller tables are also occupied by people who are indulging in great food and drinks, while some do try to strike a conversation, others can barely speak a word between eating what must be delicious food. 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. Though judging by the smells of grilled and cooked food coming from the kitchen, it must be the food. You manage to find a seat and prepare for what will undoubtedly be a great evening.
What a quaint little tavern, and one that boasted of its inclusive nature.
A laughable concept, and so very fickle in her experience. Liloth had visited so called 'inclusive' establishments before and was none all too surprised to find that their inclusions always happened to stop at 'Hobgoblin' and 'Follower of the Dark Gods' and 'Evil Cleric' and 'Warmongering Martial Artist'.
Bah, hypocrites and fools the lot of them, and yet still no one actually tried to stop her when she entered, and more still she was hungry and thirsty from her travels, so for once she'd be happy to be mistaken and find that this tavern was open to business to her kind.
If anything, she was always eager for a brawl and taverns often offered them, if reluctantly by their owners. Therefore, the Dark Knight known as Liloth was determined to get a positive outcome out of this little exercise. Either she'd be served properly like a customer- or there would be blood, all in all a good day.
She entered the establishment with bold strides, her metal greaves a-clanking on the floor boards with every step. The gray skinned Hobgoblin woman found a seat at the bar and meticulously took her horned helmet off, fiery red hair cascading down her shoulders as she flicked the red mane aside, a veritable lioness of a woman.
Setting the helmet on the counter she grinned at the bar tender, baring her fangs as she ordered herself a drink and a meal. Boar was a favorite of hers so she'd try to get that if it was on the menu.
A laughable concept, and so very fickle in her experience. Liloth had visited so called 'inclusive' establishments before and was none all too surprised to find that their inclusions always happened to stop at 'Hobgoblin' and 'Follower of the Dark Gods' and 'Evil Cleric' and 'Warmongering Martial Artist'.
Bah, hypocrites and fools the lot of them, and yet still no one actually tried to stop her when she entered, and more still she was hungry and thirsty from her travels, so for once she'd be happy to be mistaken and find that this tavern was open to business to her kind.
If anything, she was always eager for a brawl and taverns often offered them, if reluctantly by their owners. Therefore, the Dark Knight known as Liloth was determined to get a positive outcome out of this little exercise. Either she'd be served properly like a customer- or there would be blood, all in all a good day.
She entered the establishment with bold strides, her metal greaves a-clanking on the floor boards with every step. The gray skinned Hobgoblin woman found a seat at the bar and meticulously took her horned helmet off, fiery red hair cascading down her shoulders as she flicked the red mane aside, a veritable lioness of a woman.
Setting the helmet on the counter she grinned at the bar tender, baring her fangs as she ordered herself a drink and a meal. Boar was a favorite of hers so she'd try to get that if it was on the menu.
It was almost dark outside when the heavy tavern door swung open once more. A huge figure wearing a worn, heavy gray cloak ducked through the entrance and paused as the door shut behind him. Narrowed pale eyes surveyed the full, rambunctious place for a few moments before committing to the decision to join in the revelries. Somewhat. Had there been a quieter place within ten miles, he'd have kept walking.
Walking staff tapping the floor with each step of his left foot, he found his way to a surprisingly empty table in a far corner of the brightly lit room. The table had three empty chairs around it. Pulling out one, the newcomer lowered himself into the seat, eager to rest his weary scaled feet--crunch. He was suddenly sitting on the floor upon a pile of fragments that used to be a chair. Thankfully, it was so loud in the tavern that it didn't seem to raise any fuss. The dragonborn got to his feet with a grunt, swept aside the rubble, and scooted a second chair into position. He tested its durability before carefully lowering his weight onto it. It creaked in protest, but held.
While he waited to be served by the busy bartender, he decided to scan the occupants of the room more carefully. Scaled hands rested on his thighs as his slit pupils flicked from one patron to the next. Most were human commoners, no doubt locals. But peppered around here and there, several different races were represented. When his eyes caught sight of a bright red mane of hair, though, they narrowed, lingering on the owner of the hair a few moments longer than the others. It was probably the first time he'd seen a hobgoblin drinking amongst others--and not trying to rip their heads off. How long was it going to stay that way?
A drop of something spattered onto the end of his snout from above, snatching him out of his thoughts. Peering up, the dragon spotted a leak in the ceiling. Perhaps that was why this table was empty. And outside, it had just begun to rain.
Walking staff tapping the floor with each step of his left foot, he found his way to a surprisingly empty table in a far corner of the brightly lit room. The table had three empty chairs around it. Pulling out one, the newcomer lowered himself into the seat, eager to rest his weary scaled feet--crunch. He was suddenly sitting on the floor upon a pile of fragments that used to be a chair. Thankfully, it was so loud in the tavern that it didn't seem to raise any fuss. The dragonborn got to his feet with a grunt, swept aside the rubble, and scooted a second chair into position. He tested its durability before carefully lowering his weight onto it. It creaked in protest, but held.
While he waited to be served by the busy bartender, he decided to scan the occupants of the room more carefully. Scaled hands rested on his thighs as his slit pupils flicked from one patron to the next. Most were human commoners, no doubt locals. But peppered around here and there, several different races were represented. When his eyes caught sight of a bright red mane of hair, though, they narrowed, lingering on the owner of the hair a few moments longer than the others. It was probably the first time he'd seen a hobgoblin drinking amongst others--and not trying to rip their heads off. How long was it going to stay that way?
A drop of something spattered onto the end of his snout from above, snatching him out of his thoughts. Peering up, the dragon spotted a leak in the ceiling. Perhaps that was why this table was empty. And outside, it had just begun to rain.
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