Wreck Ashore - Play Thread [[Ready to Adventure]]

[Ironiiku]

The storm raged outside, the wind screaming at you with misunderstood accusations, the rain pounding the roof above, ready to obliterate you. However, none of this, no matter the wailing of the wind nor the irrythmic beats of rain could keep the rumors from floating around in this tavern, a small, makeshift shack that rattles at each blow of the storm. But the customers don't seem worried; they know that it'll hold.

The air is musty, filling your nostils with the familar tavern smells: fresh ale, stale urine, old vomit, sweat, and many other unpleasantries to the nasal. At least the tables and benches seem sturdy, the mugs clean, and the ale brewed to perfection. Or else, hell might have loosened inside as well as outside.

Listening, you overhear a conversation at a table next to you, one littered with townsfold. They look slightly scraggly, but other than that, somewhat clean. Their clothes are simple, patchwork garments probably made by their midwives and daughters. One of the peasents, and old man with salt-and-pepper hair with a beard that stretches across his face, says, "I hopes the ships are her crews can best the storm. Devastating, it is..."

"Oh, you ol' bloke, don't get so werked up," a man with long, black hair next to him scolds. His steely grey eyes glare at the man, "We 'aven't 'ad a damn ship for weeks, and it's no damn storm that be 'oldin' 'em back," His scrawny figure leans foward, and he waits silently, watching the others lean slowly towards him. Finally... "A CURSE!" he yells, slamming his fists on the table, almost splintering the wood.

The women sitting next to him screams out, clutching her chest. At first, her expression is fear and surprise, but then it quickly turns to a small fury. "Erdin, don't do that!" She smacks him on his twig arm, pouting. "You scared the 'ell out of meh!" Her nostrils flare, and she stabs him with her green, dagger-like eyes. "And besides, you knows there's no such thing as curses, silly fool," she says, crossing her skinny arms.

"Sure there is, woman!" He counters. "What do you think 'appened to the bloody ships? They just floated away? No, I don't think so..." He argues, crossing his arms over his chest as well.

"Sure, why don't they float away? Better than any pitiful curse you talk about..." she turns her back on him, upset.

"Well," the old man speaks again. His hefty arms prop his chin, "either way, we don't got no ships, and we aren't doin' nothing about it. If we don't send someone soon, then we'll never find out what happened, will we?"

"No, I don't suppose..." the younger man and woman say in unison.

"Why don't they just send the milit'ry? They always send 'em for things like that, don't they?" The lightened up a bit.

"Yes, that's true, but they're too busy with the Lizardfolk, so I'm guessin' our options are limited, aren't they?" The old man sighed, shaking his head lightly.

"Well," the younger man ponders, "what are we gonna do?"

----This is where you come in; adventure begin----