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The Mabari's Rest (A free form roleplay setting)


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#1
mousestalker

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Setting: The Mabari's Rest is a tavern for travelers located on the fringe of the Planasene Forest west and south of Kirkwall. While there are any number of outbuildings, it stands alone. As it isn't really in any particular jurisdiction, it is popular with those who prefer to discretion. It is ten years after the Blight.

 

The owner is known  as 'The Boss'. No non-employee has ever seen or spoken with him. It is popularly believed that he is not, despite the decor and staff, a Ferelden but is instead an Antivan. The staff does not comment on the subject.

 

The bar manager/innkeeper is a pretty elven girl named Amethyne, who looks sad when she isn't busy.

 

The barmen are two burly humans named Raveth (Ravy) and Mavor (Mavy). They are rarely working at the same time. The bouncer is a large Qunari, complete with horns, who calls himself Saarebas. Rose, Tulip and Wisteria are the waitresses. They are all human. All of the humans are from Ferelden and speak with Denerim accents. In the kitchen is a large unfriendly woman named Grace. She has two helpers, orphans of indeterminate sex and age: "You there" and "The other one". The two helpers mostly turn the spit or stir the large pot of lamb stew.

 

A dog motif runs through the entire establishment with wall hangings, tapestries and the bath in the Royal suite all having mabari inspired designs. The cuisine shows a strong Ferelden influence as well. The house specialty is lamb stew, with a bubbly cheese crust. The cheese is quite good. It is considered a sign of endurance and stamina to be able to finish the stew. Only four people have ever had seconds. The regulars still speak in hushed whispers of the blond man who had thirds. Many say he was a Grey Warden. Many more say he was drunk at the time.

 

Fighting does not happen inside the inn. Brawlers are asked by Saarebas to 'take it outside'. Well, not so much asked as told. And somehow they always do. It's as though it were magic. The staff never fights, but they would back up Saarebas if needed. They have never been needed.

 

The rules: Set out who your character is. You can be anyone other than a canonical character (i.e. not a Hawke, a companion or a Gray Warden or a close relative of the same). You should describe who you are and a brief sketch (words or picture) of what you look like. You do not need to generate statistics, although you may if you wish. Once your character is done, step up to the bar and order a drink or chat up the other patrons.

 

Mavy is currently on duty. He is a large red faced man with grizzled brown hair and a small tattoo of a tear drop underneath his ear. He smells of fresh hops and salt. Tulip is waiting tables currently. She is a short stout woman with a clean, worn brown dress, pristine white apron and her hair is up. She walks as though her feet hurt. Rose and Wisteria are having a quiet conversation with Amethyne in her office. You can hear but not see them as her office door is cracked a little. At one long table, a ship's crew is celebrating making it here. At two others, two men are pointedly ignoring each other and drinking steadily. A heavily armed woman is seated with a young girl. She looks at the door expectantly from time to time.


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#2
mousestalker

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#3
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#4
karushna5

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Maru walks in with the warms nights breeze. She looks confused at first before sitting down and gesturing to tulip for a drink.

#5
mousestalker

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The waitress walks gingerly over to the new arrival .

 

"How may I help you, dearie?" Tulip asks warmly "Would you like some iced wine or a brown ale? The chicken is the special tonight and we have two kinds of cheese."



#6
karushna5

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Maru takes out her purse and grimaces, there wasnt nearly enough there to last.

"How much for just the cheese?" She jokes wanely before noticing the waitress' injured stance. "Wait, are you okay?"
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#7
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"The cheese plate is 1 silver, but you can get the lamb and pea stew, which has almost as much cheese for 4 coppers." Tulip answers, Maru's joke clearly eluding her. "I'm not one to complain, thank you for asking, but these foreign shoes we have to wear are killing me feet. What I wouldn't give to wear a nice pair of Fereldan clogs. Still, it's me job." Tulip's voice trails off.

 

Then she asks, a bit more briskly "What can I get you?"



#8
karushna5

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Strange, you would think a Fereldan Inn would require Fereldan shoes. "Dont strain yourself, a bad foot can mean the difference between life and death in a crisis, believe me I know." Maru's melancholy set in. Her flight was still plaguing her, night was setting in, and she still had no idea what to do with herself or really what had happened.

She had been running long enough, Maru was sure she would be safe for perhaps a day, if someone was even chasing her, and who would look into such a modest Inn as her haven if they were? "I would like some ale and stew, and perhaps a room if you have any."

#9
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"Ale and stew coming right up Mistress!" Tulip affirmed. "I think we have still have some rooms off to the right. I will ask!" Tulip staggered off. As she leaves, it is obvious she is on one inch heels.



#10
Corker

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"But it is art!"  A plump dwarven woman with dark hair and an Orlesian accent lifted the art in question aloft, towards the bouncer's face.  A smooth expanse of rich brown beaver felt rose in a gentle curve over two pairs of silk ribbons.  Wired ribbons rose from the felt, forming a fanciful vision of... some kind of building? which rose to a point on the right side. From the top, a few tiny puffs of brown and cream silk floated, suspended from nearly-invisible wires.  A very generous viewer might interpret them as griffons circling the spires of Weisshaupt. "Do you not see?  You have anchor points!  We can have cantilevers, asymmetries, glorious hats the likes of which would fall right off the heads of us poor hornless unfortunates."  

 

Nika Tadirre knew a fine hat when she saw one.  House Tadirre, an Orlesian family of sea traders specializing in textiles, did not make hats themselves.  Not really. But... but hats!  "It is all about asymmetry," she assured Saarebas.  "Look, look at mine."  Setting down the "art" hat, she took the battered leather thing off her head, plucked off its festoon of feathers and unpinned the side.  "What is this?  A bucket with a brim, yes?  A peasant would wear this in the field, to keep the sun off.  Now - we pin up one side!"  She demonstrated.  "Panache!  It is jaunty!  Even without the trimming, which adds grace and style."  She replaced the feathers, and set the hat back on her head.  "So, yes, I admit, I am a sailor, not a haberdasher," she acknowledged with a blinding smile, "but... but the concept!  Come, it will take the courts by storm!"  

 

And again she offered the hat up, like an offering to an ancient god.


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#11
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Saarebas takes the hat from the dwarf handed him.

 

"Its asymmetrical nature does lend it charm. But the feathers overly many to offset the brim's imbalance. The Qun dictates that either there be three small feathers in a clever bunch or one large. The colours are appropriate."

 

He hands the hat back to her with the utmost gravity.



#12
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"The Qun has rules for hats?"  Nika paused to consider this.  On the one hand, you could not shackle art!  ...but on the other hand, you didn't see the gentlemen of the court stepping the measures in ladies' hats.  Well, except for that one old chevalier in Val Foret, but that was accepted as an eccentricity of age.  Had not Orlesian fashions its own rules for hats?

 

"If the feather be but one, then a most fantastic feather it must be."  Nika frowned.  "Seheron peacock, perhaps?  Zut! Tiger hide!  Would that not be striking?  Not with the peacock, perhaps, the colors would clash.  And sachets of cinnamon and tea cunningly sewn into the band - the scents of faraway lands.  An olfactory dimension!"  She saluted, one fist to her heart.  "Merci, you have given me much to think about."

 

Of course, the grandest, most fabulous feather would be from a griffon, fabled beast of yore.  Extinct, sadly, but... surely somewhere, in some dusty Grey Warden armory, there was a helmet sporting Ages-old plumes? 

 

Hmmmm... and could she steal one?

 

Nika dropped the Tribute to Weiskaupt on a table and twirled to the bar.  "Mavvyyyy, my little cabbage!"  She stood tiptoe to fold her arms on the bar and tipped her head coquettishly to one side.  "An ale, please!  And perhaps some news, if there's any worth the telling?  You know how soon I bore, and how terrible it is if that happens while I'm here."