Annon
2006-02-14, 03:58 PM
ll right! I'm going to give this contest thing a try. This is probably the second thing I have wrote for a game, and the first to be judged, but I gotta start somewhere, right?
Here's a bit of an introduction. I'm probably going to proofread and refine it a bit later, but it's what popped into my mind at the time.
ANNON
You look at the sign and wonder if you can possibly be in the right place. This has to be the drabest tavern fron you have ever seen. The building doesn't even merit its own plot; it is wedged between a scribe's office and an apothecary, as if trying to fade into the neighboring buildings to evade detection. You must have passed this door half a dozen times before finally realizing what it was.
It has no windows on the front, nor any crack in the door to see the inside. There are no frills or decorations outside. Even the sign is nothing more than an ancient plank with the big block letters which--with a marked lack of artistic flair--confirm that this is where you intended to go.
As you walk in, you are struck by the size of the front room. It definately didn't seem as though this enire space could fit into the area you imagined the tavern could take up from the outside. While not immense, there is no lack for open seating, and it isn't because of a lack of patronage.
The room is even more colorless than the front stoop. The walls are colored absolute gray, which makes the dining area seem even larger. The floor is blue carpet, kept scrupulously clean by the faculty here. The bar in the back seems to be the only object in the room that wasn't made for the purpose of sucking all color out of the room. It has a mirror-like surface, as if made out of pure platinum. Behind it stands an alien looking thing--almost half-doppelganger--with a featureless gray face and white hair.
The biggest thing that hits you about this bar has nothing to do with appearances, however. The room has a hush to it, a silence, that almost seems to reverberate. And it exactly this quiet that has brought you, as well as most of the patrons here, to this nondescript little tavern.
Description:
Annon was built to be a quiet, serene setting to have a drink and a quiet chat with a friend, without interjection from anyone else. No newcomer is ever asked their name, nor obliged to tell anything about themselves if they don't wish it. Neither do the faculty or other patrons offer any gossip or information unless asked, and even then the usual answer to any inquery is awkward silence.
While the general-turn-your-head-the-other-way attitude of both the staff and the patrons would seem to sow the seeds of criminal activity, there a number of factors prevent the widspread corruption of the patrons. First, there is a policy of full compliance with the guard in asisting in the apprehension of a criminal (totally reactively, however--they only supply information when asked, never pro-actively). Second, anytime anyone makes an excess amount of noise, they are visited by two of the biggest orcs ever born, and warned to quiet down or be kicked out. The defintion of "excess" here is "more noise than one would make in a library." This tends to diffuse rowdy bar brawls long before they have a chance to get started.
However, the same "hands-off policy" also makes this inn a haven for those that do not wish to be found. No creature is ever turned from the door. No information is given about a patron unless the local town guard asks for it either, without considerable effort. This makes this tavern both useful for characters making the worng enemies and as an obstacle for those characters in pursuit of an enemy.
The faculty consists of the orc bouncers (who are actually carrying on their family tradition of protecting the inn) and the doppleganger behind the counter, who never, ever speaks within the tavern. Mindreading attempts will also meet with unexpected effects. Noone knows a single thing about, beyond the fact that he owns the place and serves some pretty mean drinks. In fact, there is a pool going to the first man to get him to say a single word. Everyone just calls the barkeep Annon, because they assume that is what the sign on the front alludes to.
History:
Anyone trying to read up on history will find very little on the business. As far as any account is concerned, it just appeared one day long long ago with no fanfare or advertizement beforehand. No one--not even the elves--can remember a time when it wasn't present in the town, nor has live long enough to have been around when the tavern opened. What little information can be had about the business's origins is passed down knowledge. It is registered with the local government, but the documents haven't fared as well as the proprieter and business, and thus likewise can't provide information about either's origins.
Abraxil is the true name of the proprieter. He is an pre-epic to epic ex-adventurer who travelled in search of a key to immortality, and foud it in a Shard of Infinity. By merging with the shard, he ceased his aging, and gained some cryptic knowledge of eternity. He is 1373 years old. The visions show him a darkness that covers the enitre world, originating--as near as he can guess--from a location near that of Annon. Sleepless, Abraxil now spends his days seeking meditation, solace, and peace within the tavern, and the night doing all that he can to find the source of his dreams, investigating newcomers to the town under different guises each night.
Here's a bit of an introduction. I'm probably going to proofread and refine it a bit later, but it's what popped into my mind at the time.
ANNON
You look at the sign and wonder if you can possibly be in the right place. This has to be the drabest tavern fron you have ever seen. The building doesn't even merit its own plot; it is wedged between a scribe's office and an apothecary, as if trying to fade into the neighboring buildings to evade detection. You must have passed this door half a dozen times before finally realizing what it was.
It has no windows on the front, nor any crack in the door to see the inside. There are no frills or decorations outside. Even the sign is nothing more than an ancient plank with the big block letters which--with a marked lack of artistic flair--confirm that this is where you intended to go.
As you walk in, you are struck by the size of the front room. It definately didn't seem as though this enire space could fit into the area you imagined the tavern could take up from the outside. While not immense, there is no lack for open seating, and it isn't because of a lack of patronage.
The room is even more colorless than the front stoop. The walls are colored absolute gray, which makes the dining area seem even larger. The floor is blue carpet, kept scrupulously clean by the faculty here. The bar in the back seems to be the only object in the room that wasn't made for the purpose of sucking all color out of the room. It has a mirror-like surface, as if made out of pure platinum. Behind it stands an alien looking thing--almost half-doppelganger--with a featureless gray face and white hair.
The biggest thing that hits you about this bar has nothing to do with appearances, however. The room has a hush to it, a silence, that almost seems to reverberate. And it exactly this quiet that has brought you, as well as most of the patrons here, to this nondescript little tavern.
Description:
Annon was built to be a quiet, serene setting to have a drink and a quiet chat with a friend, without interjection from anyone else. No newcomer is ever asked their name, nor obliged to tell anything about themselves if they don't wish it. Neither do the faculty or other patrons offer any gossip or information unless asked, and even then the usual answer to any inquery is awkward silence.
While the general-turn-your-head-the-other-way attitude of both the staff and the patrons would seem to sow the seeds of criminal activity, there a number of factors prevent the widspread corruption of the patrons. First, there is a policy of full compliance with the guard in asisting in the apprehension of a criminal (totally reactively, however--they only supply information when asked, never pro-actively). Second, anytime anyone makes an excess amount of noise, they are visited by two of the biggest orcs ever born, and warned to quiet down or be kicked out. The defintion of "excess" here is "more noise than one would make in a library." This tends to diffuse rowdy bar brawls long before they have a chance to get started.
However, the same "hands-off policy" also makes this inn a haven for those that do not wish to be found. No creature is ever turned from the door. No information is given about a patron unless the local town guard asks for it either, without considerable effort. This makes this tavern both useful for characters making the worng enemies and as an obstacle for those characters in pursuit of an enemy.
The faculty consists of the orc bouncers (who are actually carrying on their family tradition of protecting the inn) and the doppleganger behind the counter, who never, ever speaks within the tavern. Mindreading attempts will also meet with unexpected effects. Noone knows a single thing about, beyond the fact that he owns the place and serves some pretty mean drinks. In fact, there is a pool going to the first man to get him to say a single word. Everyone just calls the barkeep Annon, because they assume that is what the sign on the front alludes to.
History:
Anyone trying to read up on history will find very little on the business. As far as any account is concerned, it just appeared one day long long ago with no fanfare or advertizement beforehand. No one--not even the elves--can remember a time when it wasn't present in the town, nor has live long enough to have been around when the tavern opened. What little information can be had about the business's origins is passed down knowledge. It is registered with the local government, but the documents haven't fared as well as the proprieter and business, and thus likewise can't provide information about either's origins.
Abraxil is the true name of the proprieter. He is an pre-epic to epic ex-adventurer who travelled in search of a key to immortality, and foud it in a Shard of Infinity. By merging with the shard, he ceased his aging, and gained some cryptic knowledge of eternity. He is 1373 years old. The visions show him a darkness that covers the enitre world, originating--as near as he can guess--from a location near that of Annon. Sleepless, Abraxil now spends his days seeking meditation, solace, and peace within the tavern, and the night doing all that he can to find the source of his dreams, investigating newcomers to the town under different guises each night.