[Wulfric Rexanthe]

chasing these dreams just to stay alive

The tavern was alive with music. Warm and smelling of rich, spiced food and hot mead, full of laughter and noise. Everyone seemed to be here with happy thoughts and good companions. Wulfric, however, observed alone.

What, no women tonight? Solaris's tone was teasing, and she managed to pull a smile from the king's troubled face.

Only brooding, I'm afraid, he said.

Wulfric swirled his pewter stein full of mead and took a long, hearty swig. It was sweet and bitter at once, certainly not the best he'd ever had. But somehow, he liked piss-alcohol better than the finest he had in the palace. It was set down with a thump, and his head swam a little. He was nearing one too many. He knew his limits well, had pushed them too far on many occasion, and he knew better.

I certainly hope you do. Do you remember last time? Sol says dryly.

I smirk a little at my cup. How could I forget?

You fell fifty feet. It took a full day for you to heal.

Mists forbid! A whole day.

He felt her annoyance as he took another drink. No one looked twice at him, with his tousled hair and worn clothing, loose and threadbare in some places. His jewel and dragonstone were hidden well under his clothing, kept close, kept safe, kept well out of sight. He might look like anyone else right now, but the moment those stones made their appearance, he would be king again, and the weight would return.

"'Nother one, friend?" the barkeep offered from the other side of the counter.

Wulfric smiled at him. "Why not?"

Wulf... She was going to bite his arm off. Or that was the imagery she sent, anyways.

Careful not to flash his coin, Wulf slipped a full gold piece across. A tip. The barkeep's eyes widened, and so did his smile. "Thank you, friend! What can I can call you? Would love to see you around as a regular. What's your name?"

I'm sure he would.

Sol.

"Roland," Wulfric said.

"Coming right up, Roland!"

He brought a new drink, but Wulfric didn't drink it right away. He scanned the tavern, one of the nicer ones in town. Stricter rules. Less thieves. But some always slipped through the cracks. He remembered, in an age long passed, he'd bumped shoulders with thieves and pirates and the like. Not now. Not with a crown as a barrier.

You're still friends with a pirate, Sol reminded him.

Alone time, just this once?

Wulfric swore he could hear her sigh from here. She distanced herself, and he let loose a long breath through his nose. He sipped this drink, the mead still warm. A brow quirked at the bard in the corner, for there was a beautiful dancer stealing the show. He smirked. He wondered how long it would take for the bard to tell her to fuck off.

wulfric

[Random Encounter]

Random Encounter

The tavern is vibrant for you tonight. Nestled at the heart of Ocai, it’s a favorite haunt for weary locals and traders seeking respite from work and the relentless sun. Lanterns flicker brightly, casting a warm light over patrons enjoying hearty meals and cool drinks.

Yet amidst the laughter and camaraderie, a mischievous presence lurks.

Suddenly, a shout rings out. “Hey! Where’s my dagger?” The mercenary, a burly man called Kaldar, jumps to his feet, confusion etched on his face. The room turns to him, brows raised.

You see it then. A dune terror. A red-hued figure had slipped through the door, a desert imp known for its penchant for mischief and thievery. With a body as nimble as a shadow and eyes that sparkle with mischief, it surveys the room, its sharp teeth glinting in the lantern light.

Unbeknownst to the patrons, but known to you, the dune terror’s favorite game is to steal shiny objects and play pranks. With a swift motion, it scurries behind Kaldar, biting his ankle with sharp little teeth. “Ouch!” he yelps, stumbling forward and knowing over a nearby table, sending tankards crashing to the ground!

Another cry from somewhere else, and you spot a second. A silver necklace is swiped from the dancer, and a chair knocks over a patron. A third! The tavern is erupting into chaos as the terrors cackle, weaving between legs and avoiding grasping hands. One finds a spot atop the bar, where it gleefully displays its growing collection of stolen treasures—necklaces, coins, and even a brightly colored scarf. Blood colors its mouth.

And you remember something as patrons collapse. They can paralyze with a bite, and get hungry.

---

You’ve just encountered three Dune Terrors! How will you save the tavern?

Dune terror 1: Atop the bar.
Dune terror 2: Near the dancer.
Dune terror 3: ?

Posting order:

Wulfric Rexanthe
Random Encounter
Open

Each reply should be the equivalent of about six seconds - keep that in mind as you write your character's actions!

[Wulfric Rexanthe]

chasing these dreams just to stay alive

The commotion stopped everything joyful and launched everything chaotic. A table clattered, chairs, people shouted in pain, patrons fell, and wicked cackling could be heard under the noise. And there! He saw one dart under a table with a glittering bracelet.

Wulfric cursed as a little beast no larger than his pint darted up onto the bar, sending his tankard sloshing to the ground. “Fuck’s sake—!” He stood so fast that his stool clattered over, his dark-bladed dagger drawn.

Wulfric! He felt Solaris stir.

No! Just dune terrors. I have this.

Wulfric lunged for the beast, dagger slashing forward.

---

Attack with a dagger on dune terror 1

wulfric

[Random Encounter]

Random Encounter

Wulfric, your blade slices through the air in a precise arc, and while the creature is fast, you've caught it by surprise. Your blade carves a thin red line along the terror's side as it tries to twist away, and it drops its bracelet with a shriek. With a sudden, vengeful burst of speed, the dune terror launches itself at you, tiny jaws snapping. Maybe you've drank too much, but you don't react fast enough before it's teeth sink into your wrist, sharp and unrelenting.

While Wulfric wrestles with the imp latched onto his wrist, the other two dune terrors continue their rampage through the tavern.

The second terror has found its way to a corner where a musician’s lute rests on a chair. It eyes the instrument with a wicked gleam, then leaps onto the strings, clawing and plucking with wild abandon. The lute emits a series of discordant, twanging notes as the creature cackles, thoroughly delighted by the raucous sounds it was producing. It spins with a horrific shriek at the bard who tries to rescue his instrument.

The third terror, meanwhile... hm. Wulfric, you're still too distracted to see the third one.

---

Wulfric has been bitten with a paralytic. [ advantage: rapid healing - body goes numb, you are now dizzy ]

Dune terror 1: Biting Wulfric
Dune terror 2: Destroying the lute in the corner, threatening the bard.
Dune terror 3: ?

Posting order:

Wulfric Rexanthe
Random Encounter
Open

[Odilia Rotheiche]

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The Red Queen

[attr="class","odi_tagbottom"]Wulfric Rexanthe || Brighella [break] Immortes said I could NPC Brig in for the time being c:

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Boots clicked against the ground of the streets. The evening held a proper feeling within the city. As the markets had closed, each tavern had come to life, lighting up the streets as the pirate queen walked. The Crimson Jewel was docked at an enclave near the city with its sails up. Most of the crew stayed back, tending to the ship and guarding it through the night. Odilia, however, had chosen to take to land - mostly for a good drink.
[break][break]
The only downside to this accursed desert was the dietary options. If she had learned nothing else from her dearest quartermaster, it was that the Quenyi people didn’t have meat often. She pitied the girl who walked beside her, kicking the ground as they passed tavern after tavern. For the Vedenyan, this was a poor way of life. It was no question that their people were so small and their beasts were so large. There was one, however, she knew that at the very least would have at least a nugget of a steak to offer their international guests. She just had to remember… where…
[break][break]
The sand beneath her crunched with each step. It had been some time since she’d gone inland, per say. But it should have been around here somewhere.
[break][break]
“Cursed landlegs,” she mumbled, stopping in the middle of the streets. “This damned place would have closed the only good tavern.”
[break][break]
The comment of her companion went unheard to the giantess, the tone did not. She set a hand on the girl’s head and rustled her hair - a fair response for whatever quip the girl had come up with.
[break][break]
It would be no sooner that she pulled her hand back that a commotion seemed to stir in the building they had just passed. A scream seemed to erupt, perhaps more. Odilia’s eyes lit up. “If I can’t get any lamb around here, may as well get a taste of home.”
[break][break]
And to anyone who could call the Refuge of Marauders their home, what would be more home than a spontaneous bar fight?
[break][break]
The giantess ducked into the building, met up front with chaos. Instead of a good fisticuffs were those freakish little imps of the desert. For a moment there was disappointment, but she caught the sight of a dagger in the hands of another man across the bar. The small fellow seemed to be wrestling his own imp. Another man, a bard perhaps, seemed to be… was he crying? Over an instrument?
[break][break]
Odilia’s brows knit for a moment at this pathetic display, exchanging a look with her companion. The pirate shook her head, accepting the decision she had made.
[break][break]
“Brighella, I’ll help the whiny one. Make sure that’s all of them please.”
[break][break]
Reaching for the cutlass at her side, Odilia would leave the girl at the door and approach the imp on the remnant of sticks and strings, drawing her blade and preparing to swing.

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