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"Well I am looking fo a job so...okay!"

"So what are we hunting?"

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< Nope. Character abilites are based on the character class, not the character's lineiage. As a fighter you kick serious butt in melee combat compared to any mage. As a Lizardman, you have extremely keen senses, including infravision and the ability to track creatues by their scent. You can swim as fast as you can run, you can hold your breath about a minute longer than a human could, and you've got claws. As you already noticed, you've got tough scaly skin that gives you a serious advantage defensively (even when wearing armor over it it still provides protection.) The major drawback of being a Lizzardman is that your people are, on average, noticibly less intelegent than humans, and that your people can't properly digest certain kinds of food that humans can. Anything made with grains (Wheat, corn, flax, barley, etc.) will make you constapated and nausious if you eat it, but this doesn't apply to beverages brewed and/or distilled from grains.>

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"We're in search of a Dire Wolf. It's like a demon dog, but with only one head. Still, it's just as terrifying."

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(OOC: What are the classes of this game?)

"So...can you please show me your boss so I can apply for the job"

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"Sure, just follow me inside." Marcus led the magician into the Inn.

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<
You mean player classes? Fighter, Theif, Wizzard/Mage/Witch, Cleric/Preist/Druid, Ranger. Possibly more if someone joins who wants to be something else. Since there's no gameplay mechanics, you could even define your own custom class. We're all just making this up as we go along. >

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Michael follows Marcus into the Red Lion Inn

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John goes outside his house and gets immediately killed.

<OOC: Sorry, I'm just being stupid. However, this guy WILL come back later. Like Hans Moleman. Or Kenny. Or Ross Perot.)

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So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell, blue skies from pain. Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail? A smile from a veil? Do you think you can tell?

Marcus led Michael into the Inn & got Maxwell's attention. "I've found another man for our journey, sir! He's a magician."

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Maxwell was sitting at a table, a plate of food in front of him. He got up and smiled broadly: "A magician, you say. Well, that is interesting."
Maxwell, exended his hand and said: "Welcome, good sir. Alow me to introduce myself. I am Maxwell and together with ny brother Farnham we are leading an expedition to slay a Dire Wolf. Marcus says you are a Magcician. Can you show us a bit of Magic?"

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Michael cast a spell, an empty glass suddenely was full of water.

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Maxwell grined widely. "Amazing! Water out of thin air. Quite splendid, quite splendid indeed. Well, I can't make water appear out of thin air but I can offer you a drink never the less." He turned to the bar maid and said: "Grizella, love. Bring us a keg of ale, will you? And a plate of cheese."
Shes nodded "Right away, master Maxwell. For cheese we have some hard cheddar, a pale goudah, some soft colby, and an elvish green cheese. Which one strikes your fancy?"
Maxwell, thought about it for a moment. "Eh, bring us a sampler plate and we'll see which one we like best."
Grizella noded, curtsied, tucked her serving platter under her arm and headed into the kitchen.

Farnham, who was sitting beside Maxwell, took the glass with the magic water and held it up to his eyes. He dipped his finger into it. He sniffed it. Finaly, he sipped a bit of it. "I'll be a orc's uncle. It's real water. Blimey!"

Maxwell noded: "Yes, and real water is all you'll be drinking, brother of mine. After that last bender you went on, Father has given strickt orders regarding your drinking."

Farnham looked annoyed. "Yes, yes. I was there when he gave those orders. You don't have to remind me. I get it, OK? No more drinking binges, no more draining the beer kegs, no more wine. I'm firmly on the wagon."

Maxwell sighed: "Well, I though you might do with a reminder, my having just order ale for our part of adventures and all. Can't have you falling back into your old habits again. Right."

Farnham was still annoyed, but he aquiesed. "Yes, yes, Quite right. I can stil have some cheese though. He didn't forbit my contact with cheese, did he?"
Maxwell smiled. It seems that Farnham had just made an in-joke that only Maxwell was supposed to get: "Oh, surely. Take all the cheese you want, my brother. 'tis cheese and crakcers all around."

The two of them grined and chuckled. The bartender looked amused as well. He spoke up: "Oh, aye. I remember when the famous cheese-wheel escapde ocured. The two of you were knee-high to a barstool back then, and here comes Farnham running into old master Granshie's tavern chasing a rolling wheel of cheese. Smashed into the wine rack, it did. There was glass everywhere, not to mention wine. Oh, you father was quite steamed at the two of you, as I recall."
Farnham noded: "Oh, you don't know the half of it, Sam. He made me eat that entire cheese wheel. Took me a week and a half."
Sam the bartender whistled a low, single note through his lips. "That long? He made you keep eating the thing for a week and a half?"
Farnham noded again: "Yes, and no matter my protests, either. I finaly took to making cheese sandwitches and cheese fondue, but he said that was cheeting and threatened to make me start over again."
Sam shook his head: "If you don't mind me saying so, m'lord, your father seems like a rather harsh man."
Farnham shook his head: "No, Sam. He was just trying to make me learn that there are consequences to one's actions. I was being a foolish child, and I rolled that wheel of cheese down the street without thinking of how I was going to control it. Father made me directly feel the consequences, all thirty pounds of it. I'll never look at a cheese wheel the same, but I'll never do anything that foolish, either."

Grizella came back into the room, carrying a large platter of assorted cuts of cheese and luging a small keg of ale under her arm. "Right, here ye are m'lord."

The ale was frothitly poured into the good metal beer steins, and the cheese was enjoyed by all at the table. Farnham, true to his word, stuck exclusively to water the whole time.

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<GM's note: The ale being served here is a dark brown ale made from barley and other grains. It's got a earthy, bitter taste to it, much like what Guiness Stout does, with a hint of molasses-sweetness to it. Like most ales and beers brewed at this time, honey is used to aid the fermentation process and that's what makes it turn brown. However, unlike Guiness Stout, the ale you're being served it's only about 2% alcohol. The reason you guys got the 2% ale was that Maxwell didn't specify what kind of ale he wanted, so Grizella just brought him the house ale. The Red Lion inn serves a full range of meeds, ales, beers, stouts, wines, ciders, ports, liqures and cocktails. Salted tomato juice, apple juice, grape juice, as well as milk and various fresh fruits are also available. Oranges are unknown in these parts, but lemons and grapefruits are regularly imported from other regions, notibly the Enshae Isles. Fresh fish and seafood dominate the menu, this being a port city and all. Chicken, beef, turkey, wild game and venison are available too, but there is a shortage of wild game and venison right now so those two items are temporarily off the menu. Bowls of salted nuts and prezels are offered as a courtesy to any tavern patron who wants one, and are available to the bar. Bread is commonly baked into round loafs (much like a Pumpernickel loaf)in thes parts, and that the kind of bread you'll get at the Red Lion inn if you order it. Same goes for sandwitches.
Metal forks and knives are used, as well as metal glasses and cups (glass is too expensive). Wine is usualy stored in ceramic containers, not in glass, but the more expensive brands of wine do use glass bottles (they go for around forty gold coins a bottle. This explains why Farnham's childhood misadventure withthe cheese wheel ticked his father off so much: He smashed into the expensive wine rack with it, and it probably cost his father small fortune.) The Red Lion inn also has rooms available for rent on the second floor. Rates vary by how long you plan to stay and how much you pay for in advance.>

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Asked the party "So is there any other hunters coming?"

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Marcus chuckled a bit as the 2 brothers enjoyed their cheese. "Never was a cheese-eater m'self. Growing lizzard's gotta eat meat!" The proud young reptile flexed his bulging arms as his stomach rumbled.

"Grizelda, can you get me a grand plate o' roast beef? And mayhaps a pint or two a milk?"

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Grizelda noded and said: "Oh, aye; we do a right delicious roast of beef here at the Red Lion. We slow-roast our beef with potatoes and celery in the big stone oven for five hours, and we make gravy from the roast when it's cooked. For 2 gold you get five slices of roast beef, gravy, potatoes (whole or mashed) and a bunch of cooked celery sticks; with lemongrass and parsly as garnishes. Comes with a loaf of bread. We serve it with your choice of own Special Red Hot Sipcey Sauce, the Mild Red Tomatoey sauce, or the Sweet Brown Mollases sauce. Oh, and fresh milk is a penny for a pint, two and a half pence for the quart. Buttermilk is twice that. Is this all on Master Maxwell's tab?"

<GM's note: There's no refrigeration in this world, just cold celars to store perishables in. No ice blocks either, since it never freezes long enough for thick enough ice to form in this paricular part of the world. That means that everything you eat is either very fresh, pickled in vinegar, packed in salt, or just plain rotting. In this case it's all fresh, even the sauces.>

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Marcus smiled hungrily & licked his chops.

"I'd like the 5 slices with the Sweet Brown Molasses sauce, please. Oh, and someone else can have the loaf o' bread; grains don't do my body a whole lot of good. As for the milk, I'll have a quart." He turned to Maxwell.

"You don't have to pay for me, sir. I'll pay for my own food." The lizzard boy wanted to make sure he could earn the man's trust before both of his quests...for the wolf, and for the jewels...

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<GM's Note: A little grammar tweek, if you don't mind. The convention is that one prefaces what your character says by using his name at some point before you quote his dialog. It just makes the speaker's identity clearer to the players. OK?>

Maxwell replied to Michael: "No, I don't think so. Why, do you know someone who would fit the bill?"

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<OOC: Isn't it funny how most of the playable characters have M names? >

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Grizella said to Marcus: "If you don't want the bread, we could substitute a side of baked beans for you, if you like."

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<it's a very popular constanant. >

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Drek entered the Red Lion and saw Marcus, Maxwell, Farnham and Michael at their table. He walked over, nodded to them, and sat down. The elf's stomach rumbled. He hadn't eaten since breakfast. "I'll take a plate of fried srimp, as well as a green salad, if you have it." he said to Grizelda.

He turned to the others. "So, who are these two? More hunters to join the party?"

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Grizelda smiled at Drek and said: "You want those shrimp butter-fried or dry-fried? Oh, and on the salad do you want the Oil & Vinegar or the Creamy Suldeneselarian dressing?"
<GM's Note: Suldeneselar is the name of the both the captiol city and of the actual nation that comprises the fabled, far-off, Elven Republic. This "Suldenselarian" salad dressing was introduced to Scara Brae by elevish sailors and caravans, and has been adopted in most of the civilized human-dominated lands. (Barbarians, on the other hand, don't eat salad... much less salad dressing.) It's similar to the modern "ranch" dressing, and so it has to be made fresh and consumed within a few days or it goes rancid.>

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Michael was eating a steak with salad as a side dish. After swallowing the bit of steak in his mouth, Michael said to Drek, "Hi, I'm Michael. I am a magician who just signed up."

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"No thanks, ma'am. You can just give my bread to someone else, & say it's on the house." Marcus smiled.

<OOC: Sarge, what are my attacks? I'd like to have both armed & unarmed ones. >

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<GM's note: Well you've got your sword, and then you've got claws on your hands and feet, so there you go. We're not going to do dice rolls when we enter a combat situation, it's all role played.>

The barmaid left the room to go into the kitchen. Five minutes later she returened with plates of food: "OK, here's the Salad & Shrimp for Mister Drek, and then we've got the Rost Beef Platter for Mister Marcus here. Enjoy your food. Oh, what can I bring you for salad dressing, Mister Drek?"

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"Oh, the Creamy Suldeneselarian please."

Drek nodded to the magician. "Pleased to meet you, Michael. My name is Drek, I am a hunter by trade."

He then turned to the one other he did not know, Farnham."You then, must be Maxwell's brother."

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Farnham nodded: "Aye, that I am. And you must be an the hunter elf that my brother told me about. You're handy with a bow, I take it. How long have you been a-hunting?" Farnham stuffed a peice of bread in his mouth and chewed on a bit before reaching for his cup of water.

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"Thank you, ma'am." Marcus dug right in to his plate of roast beef, a little savagely. He hadn't had a good meal like this in almost 2 years...the last time he saw his father alive...

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<GM's Note: Sorry guys, I'm unavoidibly detained for tonight. Family emergency. I hope to be back tomorow night. Just role play amongst yourselves.>

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