When ears hear of the death of more Gods, what does such news bring to a person? What is it that goes through their minds? More than likely some celebrate, others morn, the rest loose hopes., even sometimes they don't even seem to care. But care they should, for these Gods are not imaginary, they are very real. People who live off their devotions, their blessings from such gods are now going through the ultimate alteration in their lives. Thing will not ever be the same, or could it? It may very well depend on the outcome. The Tablets of Fate are still lost, more Gods have perished, magic is still unstable. What is truly going on ? What is really happening? Will the truth really spill forth? Or will it continue to be in riddles and broken messages. So far Mystra has died, Deneir hides and now the word spreads that Bane and Torn has also died.
"So Bane and Torm have supposedly died."
*Nearly all brow raised while lips remained silent.*
"That's the rumor. Radiant Heart mentioned they were having to console the families of dead Clergymen."
The rest still missing, the rest still lost, the rest still silent. How much longer until the truth is revealed. How much longer does the mortals of this world must deal with the conflict of politics and mortals? So many incidents, so many unanswered questions. Well one thing is for certain, the bartender in the Broken Goblet and his new hired bruiser, still get up, and still choose to work. Because goblets still need refilling. And the rumors still need to be spread, and carousing patrons still need to drink until they reach the heavens.
“We drink to get drunk, we get drunk to fall asleep, when we fall asleep, we commit no sin, when we commit no sin, we go to the Heaven's."
They say a warrior does not give up what he loves, he finds the love in what he does. It's strange how no one knows what you have been through or what your eyes have seen, but I can reassure you whatever you have conquered, it shines through the mind. Like the weary old soldier upon a battlefield, there come a time when you need to stop what your doing and take a moment with yourself. And breathe.
If you don't, you risk the suffocation. The suffocation of being so overwhelmed with things you feel you need to do, that you end up ignoring or forgetting the very things you love to do.
To be heroic is to be courageous enough to die for something, to be inspirational is to be crazy enough to live a little. Just a little bit longer. Inspiration is the process of being mentally stimulated to do or feel something, especially to do something creative. Or even notable. The warrior who pervades in pain and agony, yet still chooses with sheer determination to stand on their two feet and face the odds. That could be looked at as heroic or bravery.
But it can also be looked at , as stupidity or even insanity. Every man should lose a battle in his youth, so he does not lose a war when he is old. To lose a war is to have lost too much, that you could not go to war again. At least not so soon. There's no feeling like the feeling of defeat. That feeling of being down on your knees, subjecting and being submissive against what you believe in. The pain can come physically and emotionally as well as mentally.
Unlike a battle, there will always be more to come. And one could keep fighting their battles so long as they never give up trying to. Determination is the drive behind not giving up. Some warriors take pride in dying. To them its never a form of defeat to keep fighting, to their last breath.
Regardless of the odds, regardless if their outnumbered, these people who chooses to fight till the very end can be even the most dangerous ones. For every one death of these types, is the lost of aplenty that had opposed them. Some welcome such the situation, some bask in it while crying out to whatever gods they follow or even a name that's most important to their hearts. Why did they cry out some wonder. Was it to let their God or lover's know that they were the last thought in their minds? Was it to make a show that their very last deed was for them?
The bartender of the Broken Goblet would say, they were merely selfish and greedy. For if they did have their Gods and or lovers in mind, then they would do what they could to reunite with them. Not to die alone, or die without them. There's no greater misfortune than dying alone. Aye in life, periods of solitude were blessings. Dying alone was a bitter curse.
When people foolishly risk themselves with a delusional reason that their sacrifice will save the people and the lands, I ask then what of the ones who hold you most dear? The sorrow they feel when they lose a loved one is the price they pay to have had them in their lives. Death leaves a heartache no one can heal. The bartender of the Broken Goblet would say...
"Now matter how I die, let it be that I died along with the people I cherished most, that way when I leave this pitiful life and enter one with greatness, I will be able to share the heavens with whom I hold most dear."
It is always wise to take the moment to simply breathe, so that you don't forget who you are.
“We drink to get drunk, we get drunk to fall asleep, when we fall asleep, we commit no sin, when we commit no sin, we go to the Heaven's."
Elves are the creations of Corellon Larethian, the head of the Seldarine pantheon. Orcs are the creation of Gruumsh One-Eye, spawned as mortal avatars of his rage and his grudge against the other gods. Some Orcs are native to Toril. Their ability to hybridize with Humans is a gift from the deity Luthic. And Elves and Orcs have a long history of bitterness between the two. The first legends of orcs tell of the wars between their primary god Gruumsh and Corellon Larethian, the creator of the elves and eladrin. And within the Broke Goblet, such dislike for each other could be present. But Goblet rules is Goblet rules.
Patrons within the Broken Goblet might tell of the day a elegant elven woman came into the Broken Goblet. And just stood with her arms folded obvious not desiring to be there. However, she needed to meet with someone. All the while one of the bruisers of the Broken Goblet, a mountain half orc stood in position making sure his presence known and that rules be followed. But the orc blood in his veins didn't stop him from scowling at the elf woman.
"Manhore!"*He called out for the Bartender , his form of way to let him know there was a visitor. The pretty elven woman would return a cold scowl to the orc kin and then politely nod to the approaching bartender."Mr. Sel, a pleasure, I'm just here to speak to Madam Rose when she's completed her set." *Beaming the smile, obviously intrigued as well as surprised he glanced back over his shoulder to regard the minstrel. He lifts a hand to get the bards attention.* "Rosey , yer can take break, you got a visitor." *The well known elf would consider finding a seat but appraises the surface of the barstool and decides otherwise. The bartender instructed the bard to take the elf into the back rooms to have their meeting in private. After all, he could clear see the uncomfortable expression upon the elf's face. But he did appreciate her making the efforts to go against her own limits to come to the Shore' and visit the Broken Goblet for whatever the reason was.
*After the elf woman left the tavern, he looked around eyeing the barstools with a curious expression. With a slight frown from his lips, he couldn't help but wonder just why woman was reluctant to take a seat near the bar. He shrug the thought away then return to speak with another woman who seems to speak with cards.*
“We drink to get drunk, we get drunk to fall asleep, when we fall asleep, we commit no sin, when we commit no sin, we go to the Heaven's."
"I can almost believe your trying to groom me into something."
"I need do little more than observe, and watch you flourish into what you were always going to be, Master Sel." "The tavern burgeons well under your ministrations. It would be most pleasing to see such fortune continue"
1356 DR - "Your a King that sits upon an unseen throne" "I care nothing for a throne!, I rather be a beggar."
--------------------------------------------
"One may as well appreciate the gift of existence for all that it is."
"Is the gift of existence really a gift? Some would argue tis but a curse. To live out a life to see the horrid things in the world , bare witness to it, only to later die."
"The gift of one is the curse of another. A matter of perspective and ideology, no doubt to be debated by those too busy pondering their reality than living among it. What one choses to do with such insight is ever the question"
*You say that to one who's seen gift's become cursed. I seen many grow a would be kingdom only to later see it crumble to ruin. And I'm merely a human.*
"Every tale has a beginning, and an ending. They confine the tale, but do not define it. They provide meaning, for an infinity of anything is worthless, while the finite, the tangible, can only be appreciated for what it is. Yours is evidently here, and now. It will be delightful to see where it goes"
*My beginning has already ended, this is but the resurrection*
"Do you not try to alter the course? Or ever tempted too?"
"Knowledge is power. But the choice not to act upon that power is more powerful still. That which shall happen will happen, and I shall do what it is I do."
*Sooner or later, those with power will grow curiosity in greed and shall be intoxicated with corruption thinking themselves masters of puppets and alter the course of everyone's lives. For greed is always in the hearts and they can no better help themselves like a hungry thief. I'm sure I seen a witch that would say the same.*
"I begin to wonder what is it that you do for fun."
"Perhaps one day, you shall uncover that knowledge."
"From my experience, somethings are best left uncovered..."
*I'd rather walk away and avoid it entirely*
Fate is like a strange, unpopular tavern filled with odd little waiters who bring you things you never asked for and don't always like. The bartender of the Broken Goblet has walked the mortal world for over three decades. He would tell patrons knowing too much of your future is never a good thing.
"If I had my hands on the Tablets of Fate, I would ensure it is written that I should be loyal to the nightmare of my choice."
“We drink to get drunk, we get drunk to fall asleep, when we fall asleep, we commit no sin, when we commit no sin, we go to the Heaven's."
Spectral Dagger - A magical dagger with a hilt that was carved from a bone of a creature that had a violent death. However, it had no apparent blade until the hilt was held, then a "blade" made from light protruded from the bone hilt. It disappeared when released. The blade was insubstantial, formed of blue-glowing energy. This spectral blade could inflict "Chill touch" a form of necrotic damage on creatures that the blade touched, but otherwise it did no damage, because the blade was not solid.
She had the face of one who walks in her sleep, and for a wild moment the idea came to me that perhaps she was not normal, not altogether sane. There were people who had trances, I had surely heard of them, and they followed strange laws of which we could know nothing, they obeyed the tangled orders of their own sub-conscious minds. Perhaps she was one of them, and here we were within six feet apart with my hand extended asking for what I felt troubled her very soul and mind. She was refusing....
No longer looking like the strange mental deranged woman, she stood there with the look of freight. What was this? he thought, was this not her? Yet there she was, pleading with the expression of fear and dread. Eye's rimming with tears ready to spill forth and flow like a waterfall, but why? Was it really that? He's seen her stare into it before , the look of trance, the look of staring off into some dark void. A shake of the head, the blink of lids and the woman put away the blade and acted as she normally does. Two other times he's witness something different. Certain songs played by a minstrel , her face becomes somber, as if a mask she wore was suddenly shed. The other time was when she seen the minstrel with a blacked eye, made by fierce punch by man. He could almost admit he seen the odd woman rage yet her mind seemed filled with clarity.
Dissociation, a form of hypnotic trance, helps children survive the abuse. The abuse takes on a dream-like, surreal quality and deadened feelings and altered perceptions add to the strangeness. The whole scene does not fit into the 'real world.' It is simple to forget, easy to believe nothing happened.
"I can't part with it.." "Do you fear I wont return your dagger?" "I feel you'll get too attached to it.." "Only for next week when you return." "You think it makes me a raving lunatic or something." "I ain't sure what it does just yet, but I just got a funny feeling its bothering you somehow,
only way for me to be sure is to test ." "Fine...!" "Only for a week." "If I scream at night ... you'll know why.." "Endure ....Endure it."
“We drink to get drunk, we get drunk to fall asleep, when we fall asleep, we commit no sin, when we commit no sin, we go to the Heaven's."
The orc blood stood like a solid mountain in his brown fur cloak and his thick barrel chest. On average, Half orcs stood somewhere from 5 feet and 9 inches to 6 feet and 4 inches in height and usually weighed around 155 to 225 pounds Sometimes they even get a bit bigger than that. Making them a little taller and stronger than humans on average. Most half-orcs had grayish skin, jutting jaws, prominent teeth, a sloping forehead, and coarse body hair, which caused them to stand out from their human brethren, though their canines were noticeably smaller than a full-blooded orc’s tusks. Half-orcs as such appeared bestial to humans, though amongst orcs they were considered human-like physically. In general, half-orcs did not live as long as humans, maturing by their sixteenth year and often dying before their sixtieth.
Half-orcs combined the natures of both their lineages into a unique whole, a trait which extended into their mentality as well as their physical qualities. Like humans, half-orcs were quick to action, tenacious and bold, and possessed an adaptability that was unusual among most races. Half-orcs typically took less desirable qualities, which added to the discomfort others often felt around them. Few half-orcs had the patience for the etiquette or protocol that civilization has often imposed and were far from quiet about their opinions on the subject. As a result, half-orcs were often perceived as uncouth savages, a reputation accentuated by the orcish love of physical pleasures such as eating, drinking, or dancing. Impatient and ill-tempered were stereotypes that are not too far off the mark for most half-orcs, but these qualities have not been necessarily negative. Sometimes, a brash and straight-to-business attitude has been precisely what is required.
And required this one was, the bartender needed the extra muscles, and he needed muscles that would react quick enough. But what made this orc blood any different than others? Why did the bartender vouch for his name? The answer was simple. He was fitting for the job. A bruising bouncer was just what he needed.
However little did the bartender know, this particular bruiser had an extraordinary history. He didn't even like his orcish blood. Violence causes his human mother to fall into the hands of brutal orcs. They did the unthinkable. Spawned with anger, birthed by aggression, raised by barbarians. He grew with observing eyes. If something didn't spark his ill temper, he would remain silent with an open mind trying to understand what was it, his eyes seen.
"I don't Judge on race, none of us had that choice, actions though I do."
"Though it took to being what I am to discover that. If I was born a noble? An elf? Would I be any better?"
The bartender of the Broken Goblet would tell you,..
"It's never about how a person is birthed that determines who they will become or their destiny. It's their upbringing, its how they were raised. When you have a Half Orc who is devoted to his culture, his god, his tribe, the people with whom had raised him, you have a work of uniqueness with some morals. And when such a half blood grows fond and loyal to you, well..you got some muscles that can really put on some hurtin."
“We drink to get drunk, we get drunk to fall asleep, when we fall asleep, we commit no sin, when we commit no sin, we go to the Heaven's."
All the goblets were filled, fresh air was needed. Was it the smoke that was thick and the smell was becoming nauseating for some reason? Boots moved one after the other lightly stepping on the stone floor, until they touched the wooden stairs. The ringing ..annoying...frustrating. Slightly painful the noise was becoming, yet vibrating all the while. The sudden rush of wind with the smell of ocean was welcoming. Squinting eyes peered to the horizon, the ships, the sea, the moon. It was a sight normally he would enjoy, but the ringing in his ears, the slight headache...painful..and annoying.
When a person suddenly feels the sense of dread, panic could sometimes follow. Anxiety, even paranoia. For the people that's made of sterner stuff, they normally endure better. Such feelings could be passed off as intuition, physic abilities, powers of a seer. A lot of times its merely nothing but ones mind twisting in the endless abyss of sub consciousness. Emotional feels mix with memories, a short glimpse that was soon ignored suddenly flashes back in memory regardless of how much time has passed.
Nothing is more frightening than a fear you cannot name. People dread silence because it is transparent like clear water, which reveals every obstacle the used, the dead, the drowned, silence reveals the cast off words and thoughts dropped in to obscure its clear stream. And when people stare too close to silence they sometimes face their own reflections, their magnified shadows in the depths, and that frightens them.
The ringing....why does it sound like screams?
“When a person screams in pain, the actual pain is only half the noise they make. The other half is the terror at being forced to accept that they exist.”
“We drink to get drunk, we get drunk to fall asleep, when we fall asleep, we commit no sin, when we commit no sin, we go to the Heaven's."
"I'm no fool, I know your more than a simple bartender. I just have the respect not to pry."
"Is it that hard to believe? I wear an apron don't I?"
Heart’s often desire to be told some grand mystery. A lot of times the mystery is that there is no mystery. The possession of knowledge does not kill the sense of wonder and mystery, because there is always more. Nothing wet's the intelligence more than a passionate suspicion, nothing develops all the faculties of an immature mind more than a trail running away into the dark. Why does ones history, tend to be that delectable quench for another's curiosity?
If a child was the child of a rich noble family, or a homeless parentless child does it really matter? Would they had fed the hungry child? Or ignore the small thing in tattered clothes with a growling belly that brings enough hunger pains to draw tears?
Does the question of "Who are you?" really matter? Does it make a difference to truly know? Did they make a difference of the past? Like take in the tearful child and raise them properly or did they neglect the child to leave them to fend for themselves?
When one becomes hungry, they need to feed. That instinct of survival overwhelms to a point of making a starving person do just about anything necessary simply to feed its belly. Even if it means to break the laws and risk punishment.
Sometimes, bad habits are birthed from such events. Specially if their acts to commit crimes are repeated enough. But why are they repeated? Many answers could answer such the questions, the most likely would be because they still need to eat. And when you repeat things often enough, you tend to grow a knack for it. Something like cutting a coin purse soon becomes second nature. The next thing you know, your doing it so often, you no longer need to think about doing it.
And the chances are, you simply get punished again, and again, and again. You might start to feel that feeding your hunger is what everybody must do, they simply have other ways of doing it. But in other peoples eyes, its about how you feed yourself that matters. However when someone lacks the skills or abilities to make the coins and do what the better can do, are they suppose to merely stay hungry until they learn? What if they don't ever learn? What if they cant comprehend how too? Why must they be punished again for lacking the "know how's?"
Resentment can build when a person is punished too much or too often for something the violator felt was harmless. Sometimes they struggle and strive to better their lives and do things that are consider properly in the eyes of the rich or the nobles. But not everyone thinks alike or is alike. Some start to think that if they are going to get punished for simply trying to feed themselves, then they will make the punishment worth it.
But sometimes after their bellies are filled and no longer being controlled by the effects of starvation, they people tend to comprehend their errors. And realize they had crossed a line where there's no coming back too.
Panic and paranoia washes over them. The feeling of guilt becomes far to much for them to even handle. Instincts takes over again, because once again the need for survival takes over. Some make admit their deeds, others rather hide it. The truth is, some deeds could give you a sense of pride, others..can make you feel very ashamed. Fortunate ones get to bask in pride, and luxury to pleasurable bliss till their bellies are fat. Unfortunate ones, swim in shame.
"Why do you seek my assistance?"
"Because I am hateful to the politics of the city. While other's starve and go hungry and get punished for simply trying for bread, they grow fat committing the very same crimes they created and punish the lesser with the very same hands."
"And what do you expect me to do when even I go hungry all the same? I'm no noble, nor do I sit on a throne of power to alter the ways of the greedy. There's plenty of other nobles walkin about, surely you can ask them."
"Because...I can see it in your eyes, you have the means. Your not like the others. However your problem is you simply lack the motivation or the desire too."
"Oh your quite right, I surely am not like the others, if I was, I might even kill myself. Far as motivation and desires go..why bother? Last I know, hero's only get a box for good deeds and that box get filled with them and later buried and forgotten."
"So then disappointment can even be found even here..."
"You disappoint yourself and carry it with you, for coming to me without giving me a reason to even care. What did you expect?"
"So then your true colors revealed, for greed is even in your heart."
"Greed? ...You came seeking for my assistance, and ask to perhaps risk my own neck and name, in hopes that I would help you change the way of things for nothing. I'd call that very greedy. Do not mistaken me woman, nor attempt to think you know me. You will not like what you'll see, trust me..."
It is better to risk saving a guilty person than to condemn an innocent one. For every person is guilty of all the good they did not do. People tend to try to get into a person's head to find out if they got a guilty heart. Wards and magical trinklets are often means to prevent someone from seeing such guilt. In the year 1358 DR, the bartender of the Broken Goblet would tell you...
"You only need to look at their eyes. There are two kinds of guilt, the kind that drowns you until you’re useless, and the kind that fires your soul to purpose."
“We drink to get drunk, we get drunk to fall asleep, when we fall asleep, we commit no sin, when we commit no sin, we go to the Heaven's."
"Oi oi!, I told yer get those booths out of here', we be needin' a stage for Rose and them other minstrels tha be comin' round. And the bar be needin some breathin room."
"No! we ain't need to go buy wood for a darn bloody stage!, let's go down the bottom of the Shore' and find what wooden boards n' planks tha be layin' round! Goblet coin's is to be made not fer spendin! You want to tell the Boss we spent her coins fer a stage? I sure aint! I like livin!"
*High Captains and pirates and patrons might have seen the busy movements from the bartender as he runs back and forth from the tavern to the docks gathering what broken planks and wood he could find laying around.*
*A smithy tool soon went to work, as the bartender started to put together a makeshift stage for minstrels to preform on. No one has seen where the bartender had gotten the nails from. Patrons would mumbled that they were more than likely stolen.*
"Hey Sel, working on a table?"
"Hey Sette and no it's not a table, makin a stage for Rose and the minstrels to preform on. What you think, nice ain't it?"
"Hmm...I've seen better.."
"Wot? It's bloody strong enough to support my weight!" *He climbs on top of the stage and looks at his visitor* "See?"
"Wow, you have to jump on it too?"
"Heh, let's just say ...I couldn't find any more wood, but she is strong as an Ox I tell ya, and quite the job. Smooth as silk..Mhm!"
*The woman bends down to look under the stage*"Well....seems..to..be.."*Not wanting to obviously offend his work she started to clap*
"Ha and the best part, it ain't cost nuthin!"
"Oh well that's good. Well I'm just passing by."
"Go on and come back later, I'm sure it will get busy soon enough. I'm gonna get back and finish up this stage for Rose." *He grins*
"There we go!, now that be better."
"Hey Capt'n Pike, like the new get up. Looks good on ya."
"Hey Sarah, lookin sharp lass like a sharks fin!"
"Oh hey Sally, like the hair quite lovely. We should go for private drinks just you and me." *Winks*
"Yup, that will work, it damn sure strong enuff! I always said, hard work.. works!"
((Dedicated to Lux and staff! From the Goblet THANK YOU FOR THE WORK!))
“We drink to get drunk, we get drunk to fall asleep, when we fall asleep, we commit no sin, when we commit no sin, we go to the Heaven's."
*Within the smoke filled tavern the bartender put up a sign on the office door. It reads...*
"If yer ain't the bloody owners of the Broken Goblet nor the staff..
Nor get permission from the staff.. STAY OUT OF THE OFFICE!!
Or get yer throat slit!!"
((DM Acknowledged))
“We drink to get drunk, we get drunk to fall asleep, when we fall asleep, we commit no sin, when we commit no sin, we go to the Heaven's."
Roaringshore or sometimes called the "Shore' is located in the isolated village nestled in a small deepwater cove on the coast about a third of the way south from the mouth of the Winding Water toward the city of Baldurs Gate. Like Lathtarl's Lantern it's a pirate hold but unlike the Lantern, the reputation of bold, lawless Roaringshore has spread far up and down the length of the Sword Coast. Though such tales have grown in the telling, this is still a place raided at least once a summer by mercenary armies of 70 or more lancers or horse archers, hired by Amn and Baldurs Gate. As a result, prominent folk and businesses here tend to be short-lived. Even so, two establishments of note have lasted long enough to garner well deserved reputations: the Swordarm and the Broken Goblet.
The Broken Goblet, the tavern that servers any and all patrons. Sometimes the tavern gets filled with patrons from all over the coast. Today was a pure example of having a northerner barbarian woman...
Strong and prideful with her culture and roots...
Along with a band of Drow's...
That came from the deep dark world known as the Underdark. Two different races, with no similarities. But not always will it be the case that different races can still their hatreds enough to stand in the same room. Sometimes there's races with long standing rivalry with each other. Some such rivalry are decades old if not centuries, to a point to be in the same room without trying to kill each other, was considered ..impossible.
Regardless how much fun or what business one side is having, violence would soon follow if not imminent. So for a place like the Broken Goblet, what is it to do when old conflict that rages from centuries are within its drinking area and tensions start to arise?
Enforce the Goblet rules...
"No Fighting in the drinking area.."
"No Breaking of the furniture.."
"No Touching the barmaids.."
"Violators we be told to leave, or they get forced to leave..
or they can simply ..
Die.."
"If a drow and a surface elf need to get at each others throats, I naught care so long as it doesn't happen in the drinkin area."
"Think that elf will go call his friends?"
"Maybe but I care not, if they do, they follow the rules like all the other patrons. However, once you step outside, your on yer own Drow."
"Can I use the backdoor to leave?"
"Sure or you can use the grate."
“We drink to get drunk, we get drunk to fall asleep, when we fall asleep, we commit no sin, when we commit no sin, we go to the Heaven's."
"Patience is not the ability to wait.
Patience is to be calm no matter what happens,
constantly take action to turn it to positive growth opportunities,
and have faith to believe that it will all work out in the end while you are waiting.”
Patience can be agonizing, specially when one has been patient for so long. A person can suffer from anxiety, and fear that what they are being patient for, may never come to pass. Often people will try to keep themselves busy from thinking about what they are waiting for. Other times people do nothing but wait, while growing a toxic rot within their bellies that birth frustrations and anger. These often need encouragement from others, assistance to keep their minds occupied of other things. However, once the waiting is done, and what they wanted arrived, the satisfaction can be a vigorous feeling.
The entrance of the new tavern called Williams Well was before the bartender and others. The front door seemed repaired, so they decided to step inside. Soon greeted by surprise faces, the now patrons of the Well waiting no longer. With no other choice and also with eagerness to serve, the owner and staff of the Well offered drinks and soon conversations spilled forth. The bartender from the Broken Goblet was not an experienced bartender but if its one thing he did learn, you want to quickly serve the patrons that come in.
It was the wiser to have patience with everything that remains unsolved in ones heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not eagerly look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day.
Although still, some people simply cant be patient at all. Specially when it comes to lovers or even that of physical pleasures, or the temptations of greed. Some people just needs more, and needs it on the now. Waiting is not something tolerant for these types.
The bartender from the Goblet knew, the owners were indeed eager to serve, eager to open the tavern doors to any willing to come in. He decided to give even more, by requesting a song. Knowing that one of the owners could sing, he used that knowledge to continue the visit more than a simple order of ale. With some convincing by the others, and a push from her man, she gave in and preformed , and preformed a great song at that.
"If we're alone, are we all together in that?..
I threw a copper in a well for wishing..
And prayed for all the things I think I'm missing..
A little time is all I really need..
I am..
Doing the best I can..
With everything I am.."
With closed eyes and a filled mind, he felt the lyrics of such the song. Aye he repeated the question in his head. "If we're alone, are we all together in that? " He felt he is doing the best that he can, yet he cant help but feel he needs more time. With the way the now troubling world has become, his departure was put on hold. He started something and he damn well needed to finish what he started.
Strange that even when surrounded with familiar faces, he couldn't help feel that he was missing something. Something was missing..something was really feeling like a void deep within his chest. He sort of knew what he was missing, but he had to be patient. And he was one very patient man. After all, the bartender from the Broken Goblet would say..
“Sometimes a journey forced is a journey wrecked. The sea does not reward those who are too anxious, too greedy, or too impatient. One should lie empty, open, choiceless as a beach - waiting for a gift from the sea.”
“We drink to get drunk, we get drunk to fall asleep, when we fall asleep, we commit no sin, when we commit no sin, we go to the Heaven's."
"Yer finally return laddy, guessin' yer her to be pickin' up yer stuff'?"
"Yes, is it still safe?"
"What's more safe then behind these thick walls eh?"
*A large bag of coins was passed to strong hands.* "It must be moved. Thank you for your service and discretion."
After hoping on a boat to head down stream, he had to quickly changing clothes and carefully make sure his package was secured to his waist. Soon as the little boat reached his intended destination, there was only one thing to do...Run.
The hooded figure ran, and he ran hard. While using the cover of the darkness he wouldn't let up. Avoiding people that came into view and avoiding long periodic stops for a rest. He had to hurry. Pike would man the bar. There shouldn't be any other special patrons besides the normal ones. Leaping across narrow streams to keep his momentum going he ran with haste. Sometimes while he was running , to a void obstacles in his path he would pull out a wand trigging the preferred spell that would cause a dimensional door to appear before him so that he would pass through what would not slow his progress.
Faster..he..ran..
Until he came upon his destination. However something stopped him dead in his tracks just before he could enter the town. A skeletal animated corpses similar to zombies, but completely devoid of flesh and did not feed on the living. They could be made from virtually any solid creature, and as such their size and power varied widely.
Animated skeletons were immune to mind-affecting spells; they could not be rendered unconscious and could not tire. Edged and piercing weapons, such as swords and arrows, were mostly ineffective against skeletons; only blunt weapons, such as warhammers, were effective at knocking the bones apart. "Shite I don't got time for this!" He thought after he ducked away to make sure the disgusting thing didn't see him. "What was it doing so close to town?" he wonder obviously pissed that it delayed him as well as the knowledge that someone must be near. He had to move, he couldn't waste anymore time. He doubled back to find another direction and path. Using the vegetations to help conceal him, he made his way to the person he needed to meet. Passing off a package that was wrapped in oiled cloth.
"Haven't seen you in a long time."
"Work has kept me preoccupied."
"W-work?..oh..um...well..what can I do for you?"
"What we use to do..business."
"I like shiny."
"I know you do. Hold this for a tenday for me. You will be paid well. You have my word. And give Tink's family my regards."
After the bartender returned to the Shore', he started preparing for work. However when he entered the Broken Goblet, he walked over to the stage recently built and laid down on it. Lost in thought, lost in memories and wondering, why does things feel like he's going back in time. He was suppose to had left the Coast months ago. Guess his departure will have to wait.
“We drink to get drunk, we get drunk to fall asleep, when we fall asleep, we commit no sin, when we commit no sin, we go to the Heaven's."
"You know anything about this?" "This coin? ..Tell me -how did you come by it?"
"It was offered to me by another. I did not know what it was and thought you might be able to aid." "I ask because it is most likely not yours, and it seems I was right"
"It is not. I do not wish to keep this cursed thing." *he suddenly flicks the coin across the room*
"Oi oi..yer throwing cursed things around here..Volstagg..broom!"
"Well seems it is yours for now does it not after all"
"But beware trying to keep it beyond your time"
"What does one get if they find all seven coins?" "Misfortune beyond measure."
"... according to the prophecy I'm aware of, 'a singular moment of unspeakable luck'." "Oh? Like wish for a weapon or a bunch of blue diamonds? Magical stuff?" "The luck is not there to command greedy man" "Hey hey..was just ..yer know ..asking in examples..tis all."
"If all seven were brought together, could one wish for their destruction?" *shrugs * "Why not but you would be wishing a God to destroy their own work, that won't be me."
As the bartender of the Broken Goblet was heading to the Inn to get his sleep, he muttered one thing under his breath..
“It’s funny how we save the world at the expense of our world"
“We drink to get drunk, we get drunk to fall asleep, when we fall asleep, we commit no sin, when we commit no sin, we go to the Heaven's."
