The Epic of The Golden Tomb

Started by Unimaginative, September 23, 2014, 10:53:06 PM

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Rainshadow

  A grumbling possum sat near the small fire in what used to be a quiet inn.  "Why do they all 'ave ta come in 'ere right now, when I'm 'ere?" she growled to herself, glaring at the newcomers who had just entered.  A couple of squirrels and an odd-looking fox, if she wanted to trust her peripherals.  As Foeda didn't want to get up or even turn her head to acknowledge the beasts, she decided just to go with her guess.

  Growling again, this time a bit louder to show her displeasure to the squirrels and fox, Foeda took a swig of some horrible drink that wasn't even close to passing as ale.  Disgusted, she spat it out onto the floor and stormed to the innkeeper, roaring, "You think this is ale?!"  She threw her mug at the beast, who ducked just in time to miss the clay cup soaring over his head.  Said cup went sailing to the wall, smashing as soon as it came in contact.

  "Gimme a grog," the infuriated possum spat, glaring murderously at the innkeeper.  If she'd been any angrier, she would have set him on fire, but Foeda didn't feel like wasting energy on such a pitiful creature.  Said creature was currently shaking like a leaf as he went about trying to get a new mug and frantically looked for his grog.

  After watching him for a moment, the sorceress realized that while he was in this state, he wouldn't be able to do much other than shake and wet himself.  She sighed quite heavily and started walking back to her seat at the fire, saying forcefully over her shoulder, "When ya got my grog, bring i' to me, an' quick."  Then she sat and glared at the fire, which almost seemed to dance away from her with fright.
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Delthion

Feldion quickly dodged a cup being thrown in his direction, then he noticed the newcomers. Starting to get bored, he got up to leave.
Dreams, dreams are untapped and writhing. How much more real are dreams than that paltry existence which we now call reality? How shall we ascend to that which humanity is destined? By mastering the dreamworld of course. That is how, my pupils, that is how.

Dannflower Reguba

       Saerilla was upset with this unruly beast, but there wasn't much she could do about that. The poor innkeeper, on the other hand, was a different matter. She walked up to the counter and spoke with a strong but soft voice, "Far left side, under the counter, behind the flasks. You accidentally left it there after that land pirate threatened to swipe it all," she continued in a much more quiet voice, "Oh, and do you mind handing me the, um... remains of the cup." Poor little fellow, constantly dealing with the differing ragamuffins and ruffians that came his way. It was really a miracle that he was still alive.
"Remember, sometimes is best to be like boomerang and come back." ~ Griffen

Experience is simply the name we give our mistakes. ~ Oscar Wilde

Mistakes can make you grow - That doesn't mean you're friends. ~NF - Remember This

Unimaginative

Garin slowed down unhappily as the squirrel held the door open for a hooded creature. Entering, the Fennic Fox winced unhappily at the noise level in the cramped inn, thanks to his huge ears. The matter was not helped by the Possum shouting for grog, and the crash of a mug hitting the bar. Walking up to the inn-keeper, he spoke. "Dandelion Tea, please." he asked. As he waited for his drink, he turned to his new companion. "What's yer name, Squirrel?" he asked bluntly.
"Once built a steamboat in a meadow
Cos I'd forgotten how to sail" - The Gardener , The Tallest Man on Earth

Cornflower MM

"Arya Brushtail. And yours is?" She asked, taken aback by his bluntness.

Unimaginative

"Garin Dungan. Now, what's that you were muttering about a tomb?"
"Once built a steamboat in a meadow
Cos I'd forgotten how to sail" - The Gardener , The Tallest Man on Earth

Delthion

Oroinath had decided to have one more drink so he went to the bar, and when he sat down he heard the fox next to him mention a tomb. He was constantly intrigued by the Golden Tomb, and thought that it was worth the risk: "Pardon my interruption, but this tomb that you're talking about, it wouldn't happen to be the Golden Tomb would it?"
Dreams, dreams are untapped and writhing. How much more real are dreams than that paltry existence which we now call reality? How shall we ascend to that which humanity is destined? By mastering the dreamworld of course. That is how, my pupils, that is how.

Cornflower MM

"So what if it is? And so what if I like to daydream about being one of it's discoverers?" Arya demanded, effectively  answering the questions.

Delthion

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend, but I have sought out many who claimed that they knew about it." Said Oroinath, looking around.
Dreams, dreams are untapped and writhing. How much more real are dreams than that paltry existence which we now call reality? How shall we ascend to that which humanity is destined? By mastering the dreamworld of course. That is how, my pupils, that is how.

Gwen A. Mouse

When they entered the inn, Emilaya followed the squirrel and fox at a cautious distance. She ended up at a shadowy table (with some shadowy beasts) near the bar just in time to hear the mention of a Golden Tomb. Though the slight otter outwardly buried her interest in a pint of mead, her ears pricked up and her eyes gleamed.

If their conversation continued the way it was, she would definitely pick up something useful. Who knew? This could result in some grand adventure, or mayhap even a few good pawfuls of treasure. Speaking of which, Emilaya had had the utmost pleasure of liberating a few silver pieces from a particularly fat, bad-tempered vole sitting at her table.

Hiding a smile, she continued to drink lightly and listen to the conversation at the bar.
"You need to get yourself a better dictionary. When you do, look up genocide. You'll see a little picture of me there and the caption'll read 'over my dead body'!" -The Doctor

Jasper

#25
Foulfang, the shadow on the roof, realized his victims were entering the very inn he had only just exited.
"No matterrr!" He hissed softly as he jumped from his roof onto the roof of the Inn. He ghosted his way to a locked window, and with a few tweaks with personal tools, he was soon inside the empty attic of the inn. Cobwebs, old tables with missing legs, storage barrels, and small critters filled the attic. The innkeeper rarely ventured up here and the signs of this were all too obvious. Nevertheless Foulfang felt at home in the miserable place. He heard a shatter from below and lowered himself to the dusty floorboards. His eyes probed the Inn below through a small hole in the floor. He found himself directly above an odd array of creatures. His eyes lit up as he heard thier conversation. The golden tomb brought many creatures unused to the wild out into the open. Thanks to Foulfang, many of these now spent their days in toil to the far south. These creatures would be no exception.

Unimaginative

Garin glanced at Oroinath with a slight frown. "Will yeh quiet down?" he said. "I've found people who talk to loudly about the Golden Tomb have an unfortunate tendency to vanish, and I don't plan on joining those ranks," Garin paused for a moment, then spoke again. "I don't know either of you, but you both seem trust worthy, and both of you sound like you're interested in finding the tomb. I've narrowed down the possible locations, and suspect I'll be able to locate it, but I'll need some help to find it." Garin grimaced, as though needing help was a crime. "What say the three of us go loot it, eh?"
"Once built a steamboat in a meadow
Cos I'd forgotten how to sail" - The Gardener , The Tallest Man on Earth

Delthion

Oroinath sighed; "That is possible, but it is very unlikely that anyone could hear me in this noise, as to the tomb, I'm all for looting it."
Dreams, dreams are untapped and writhing. How much more real are dreams than that paltry existence which we now call reality? How shall we ascend to that which humanity is destined? By mastering the dreamworld of course. That is how, my pupils, that is how.

Rainshadow

  Foeda was now slurping burning grog the innkeeper had just delivered to her.  She noted that he wasn't shaking quite as much anymore.  Pity.  She enjoyed creatures looking terrified.

  The possum's ear twitched toward a conversation the newcomers were having at a different part of the inn.  She only caught one word, but that word made her quite curious, forgetting her irritation with the innkeeper.  Tomb.  That's what they had said.  But why would they be speaking of a tomb?  From what she'd seen of those beasts while storming over to the bar, they didn't look like grave robbers.  But, then again, some creatures had the capability of looking innocent, however ill-minded they may be.

  Foeda shifted her position in the chair to get her ear closer to the small group.  Maybe if she could hear what they were saying, she could get some context.
If you're interested in my art or keeping in touch, I'm active on DeviantArt and Instagram!

Dannflower Reguba

       The golden squirrelmaid had been planning on taking the clay pieces off somewhere secret, but there was so much hustle & bustle that it was really, pointless. She let the clay bits sit on the table top, still as could be. Checking one final time to make sure no beast was looking, she cupped one hand around the surface area, but maintained a slight distance from the material itself. With her right paw, she pointed all four fingers and thumb at the tiny pieces, just half an inch away. As she pulled back, they lifted with her gesture. Making one slow circle over the former brim, she used both hands to gently rub off the slight foggy sheen that had started to develop. It looked brand new, and she handed the container to one of the barhands.
"Remember, sometimes is best to be like boomerang and come back." ~ Griffen

Experience is simply the name we give our mistakes. ~ Oscar Wilde

Mistakes can make you grow - That doesn't mean you're friends. ~NF - Remember This