Taverna Generica 8

[happyturtle]

Taverna Generica
TAVERNA: Teh Acronym's Victoriously Extraordinary Realm of Nice Alcohol Yes, The is not normally included. Hence, "teh"
or
PUB: Place of Uberous Bavardage Credit for that to Blue Umbrella for that particular Acronym

Reasoning for this thread: Townies complained that ACRONYM players and characters were intruding, destroying their plots, and generally making a nuisance of themselves. This thread (and perhaps others that may follow in its vain) are by no means trying to replace town, but are trying to offer ACRONYM players the chance to show their characters off in a non-ACRONYM base environment. In the same way, we are in no way saying that because this thread is here, it will stop ACRONYM players from using the Town. We also remind Townies that we are not saying you cannot post here. Yet, we dissuade you from doing so.

Before you stands a stout, heavy building, constructed from dark, grey stones, with crossbeams latticing neatly across the foundation, up to the heavy wooden, and thatched, roof above. An inn sign hangs outside, eroded by age, the image undecipherable, the name withered: TAVERNA GENERICA.
On the front door, someone, most likely eons ago, has inscribed the same words, and the words Townies, Keep Out! Someone has also hung a sign, offering ACRONYMers work in the bar, permanently.
The tavern is in walking distance from any Acronym organisation. This, I stress most heavily, is not to be abused so you can run amok. It is so characters with no teleport capabilities can come to the inn. Yes, it makes no sense, considering that the organisations are miles apart, in some cases, even further. It just is.

Inside, there is a large bar area, capable of seating at least one hundred people, with tables, big and heavy, and dark red leather chairs, aged yet comfy, littered about in a disorganised style. Old, oil paintings, of landscapes and battles, are hung randomly about the place, and a roaring fire constantly blazes to one side, nicely illuminating the baby grand piano. Behind the bar, an assortment of NPCs man the bar, all middle-aged, pot-bellied men, with bad body odour, and too much stubble. The occasional good-time girl (legal), and, recently, boy (legal) (working as a bar wench/manwench) also serves as a bar(wo)man at times. And, still further behind them, are the drinks, many hundreds of thousands of them, ranging from the mundane, to the mystic. From the bar, one can also buy typical bar foodstuffs, like pork scratchings, and dragon-flavoured nuts and kettle chips. One can also order proper food, in dizzying variety, from the kitchen. By the bar, a sign reads "No Wanton Telepathy, Please.". The only regular barmaid/hostess/front-of-house is Yasmin Lewis.
Behind the bar is a large kitchen area, designed to cater for large functions, staffed by unnamed NPC slaves and servants. The technology in the kitchen has been imported from another dimension, there are incinerators, ovens, microwaves, and fridges, unlike the typical level of tech in this dimensional quadrant.

Beneath the kitchen and bar area, accessible through a hidden staircase, lies the gigantic, mysterious wine cellar, filled with ancient drinks, and age-old graffiti, filled with dust, and the occasional pair (or more) making hot nookie beside the bottles, barrels, fine clarets, vintage burgundies, and other fine wines...
Above the bar and kitchen, for three floors, lie rooms, varying in taste and decor, available as homes, and as places to stay the night. There are NPC cleaners who circulate among the rooms every few days or so, to clean up after the notoriously dirty out-of-dimension ACRONYMers.
There's a small stables outside, where horses, ponies, and smaller mounts can be stored, and the NPC stableboys are perfectly capable of sending larger mounts and vehicles to other, larger, holding places off-site, when required to. There is an NPC heavy warhorse stored there, by the name of Cookie, created by Kaela, who can be rented for dramatic entrances, and the like.

The only spells on the inn are ones that prevent alcohol from being watered down, and another that stops the entire inn being destroyed. Portals, and teleports, are perfectly allowed within, though frowned upon if they appear in places where they're not wanted.

IC Rules are as follows:

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1. No listening to unhappy songs during happy hour!
2. No killing the staff.
3. No vandalism.
4. No thieving!
5. Not so much a rule, but we'd like to remind customers that we retain the right to refuse and kill customers, and no responsibility can be taken on our part if you're evicted, injured, or killed, by Taverna employees.
Breaking of the rules may earn ACRONYMers banning from the tavern, or a fine. Or, in certain cases, other ACRONYMers, or NPC policemen and bounty hunters, may be employed to hunt down the nasty, nasty people who broked the rules.

OOC Rules are as follows:

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1. No controlling the NPCs to do anything that would be considered unlike them to do. You're permitted to make them serve your character(s) a drink, but no, let's say, make them get drunk and burn the place down. Of course, you could always make it clear your character is mind-controlling them into doing such as thing, for example, but you cannot make them do anything out of the ordinary, and make it seem as if they were doing it out of their own free will.
2. No destroying the place. You're allowed to damage it, but destroying it just takes the fun out of it for all the other players.
3. No godmoding. Even if it's permitted in some ACRONYMs, it isn't in others, and therefore shall not be allowed in the taverna.
4. Players are allowed to make NPCs speak in whatever tone, colour, and font they so choose. If I, the thread runner, am not online, NPCs can be played by anyone.

Repeated rule violaters (in nearly all circumstances OOC, but perhaps IC), can be punished by being IC banned from the thread. And therefore OOC banned to, under threat of mod being called to remove you for breaking thread rules.
Any other rules can be submitted by PM, and can be considered. Please bear in mind that the rules of this thread may update. Alerts that updates have been made will be made clear on the rest of the thread.

[celtois]

(He is no longer a creature...at that is the point he is just a shadow. A normal shadow... You can't throw shadows.)


So there is now a normal shadow where the shadowy man was.

The shadow creature waits for Magtok.... Work with you, help.

[Rebonack]

Avatar face-palms right about now, slumping down into a chair. "Great... The mana-eater has probably already divided by now. Which means we'll have more of the nasty buggers poking around pretty soon. How did it even get here in the first place..."

Was that a rhetorical question?

Maybe.

[Darkcomet]

DC offers a suggestion:

By any chance would an anti-magic field work?

[celtois]

Yes...why else would I be laughing.


(From the last thread)

[KerfuffleMach2]

Well, at least I can't make more. Skrall sits down with a loud clunk. Seems like the chair should've broke. But it didn't.

[celtois]

Don't you find it funny that your dressed like that...With ....rather revealing holes and the like?


With that the shadowmancer will port away.

(Deadtime)

[The Bushranger]

Actually, I don't. Shrike takes a sip of her Black Shadow. But I don't particulary care either...

[Rebonack]

"An anti-magic field would result in anti-magic oozes," Avatar points out. "That really wouldn't be doing us any good. I mean... unless you like getting smothered by oozes that nullify magic."

Irritating things, those.

[KerfuffleMach2]

Just find a bunch of energy guns. Those seem to do just fine.

[Darkcomet]

Dammit. I got the idea after you said "mana-eater". But is there any way to detect it?

He's obviously quite interested in solving this problem, if only because he doesn't want TK oozes popping up everywhere whenever he so much as floats.

He'll wait for Zee's answer, then deadtime.

[Rebonack]

"Tracking the thing is a bugger. It's... sort of incorporeal naturally. And while it isn't invisible it can hide itself really easily. Maybe if someone had some tech that could drastically increase visual acuity we might be able to see it?" Avatar offers. "I've got means to track it by, but actually seeing the thing is a real bugger."

And it's actively avoiding her.

That doesn't help at all.

[KerfuffleMach2]

What kinda scope you need?

[Rebonack]

The Narrator keeps making veeeery long posts elsewhere. Sorry!

"Eerr..." Zee rubs the back of her head. "I dunno. Anything that would make it easier to spot someone who's trying to hide?"

She don't have much practical knowledge about technology. Just genre savvy-type knowledge.

[KerfuffleMach2]

And Skrall face palms. I take it you don't know much bout technology? Figures. He shakes his head a little. Does it give off any kind of energy? At all?

[Rebonack]

"Eerr..." Avatar stares blankly at the machine man for a while. "Probably? Nothing physical that I know of, though. Maybe a little bit of heat when it's snacking on magic?"

She really has no idea.

[Darkcomet]

DC looks around for a bit, then teleports out.

Good thing his isn't a magic teleport, huh?

[Reinholdt]

Reinholdt, still in a daze, unaware of what's around him and not having slept all night, finally undeadtimes. He gives a vacant, half-hearted glance at Tessa, before slipping out of her grasp and leaving the Tavern.

[Morty]

Michalson undeadtimes in the darkest corner of the Taverna, smoking a pipe.

[Kaelaroth]

Tessa's letter, when opened, reads as this, in purple type, on slightly too thick cream paper:

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Dear Ms. Camlar,
Recently, a patient named Aleksander Moore was admtited to our intensive care unit, having recently suffered an injury, which we beleive to be self-inflicted, to the head, having stabbed a broken wine bottle several times into his forehead, most likely in relation to his seemingly longstanding history of mental problems. After a necessary and approved examination of his place of residence, seemingly one of many, we have noted that you, Nomlas, or a Ms. Angela Rowlands are listed as those who ought to decide on medical decisions for him, as it seems, from further examination, that the four family members he noted are either out of reach, at this time, or dead.
Would it be possible for you to inform us on whether you feel it is necessary to keep Mr. Aleksander Moore on life-support?
Thank you,
St. Hilary's Hospital of Seattle,
Dimension 49607, Sector Twelve-Alpha,
A Thorul Ltd. Establishment.

[happyturtle]

After reading the letter, Tessa attempts to teleport herself to the hospital.

[Morty]

Michalson watches all this with little interest, smoking his pipe.

[Kaelaroth]

After reading the letter, Tessa attempts to teleport herself to the hospital.

Et voila.

[celtois]

Xavier walks into the taverna....Looking tired..

[KerfuffleMach2]

(If Zee is still here) It gives off heat? Good. I can detect that.

(If Zee isn't here) Skrall sits down and looks around. The chair creaks as he sits in it, like it's about to break. But it holds.

[celtois]

Xavier looks at Skrall..Hello scrapheap.

[KerfuffleMach2]

Skrall looks back at Xavier. Hello stupid person.

[celtois]

Well that was rather rude. Don't you know anything you supposed to be polite.

[KerfuffleMach2]

So? Doesn't mean I have to be.

[celtois]

Yes but I'm saying you do.