ORIGIN

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A Long Hibernation

A long-slumbering bear stretched where he lay in the darkness. It had been a long hibernation: a 'winter' that had lasted... centuries? An instinctive part of him expected to stretch, to yawn, to roll over and lumber from a cave. It was the Crack! that woke him sharply from that strange dream.

Bartholomew Bear found himself rolled out onto hardwood, coughing and catching himself on his hands. It took him a moment to get his bearings. It was... dark? He was wet. Everything smelled... musty. He coughed again, and then he did yawn, then pushed up and tried to figure out what was going on.

Oh, but... first things first. He picked up an old towel, and dried himself off. The cloth was so old it fell apart in his hands. Likewise his clothes-... Oh, no. He'd be naked?! That wouldn't do.

Bartholomew lit a little lantern with what oil he could find, and set out from the door of his tavern: out into a cobblestoned street, where he saw other lights winking on. The shops--maybe they had... something, he could wear? Anything at all..? With a grimace, he set out, heading for the tailor.

*

A few hours later, he was dressed in very shabby clothes. The shops were reopening, and he and the other shopkeeps were preparing for business. They didn't know exactly what had happened. This place had always stood apart from the politics of the caves. They provided their services, and they were left in peace. So the shopkeeps swept their floors, and the shards of their shattered chrysalises were removed from their buildings, and the wet and dust was cleaned diligently away. They gossiped, wondering how long they had been out--and why they had awoken.

In the end they set off together to roll open the big, hidden door to the tunnel mouth. Thaddius (the oxen General Stores vendor), Igris (the winged, fox-like blacksmith), and Irimel (the fuzzy, alpaca-like clothing vendor) stood before the newly opened gate.

Irimel spoke first, their face quirked into a thoughtful frown. "I seem to remember some sort of war."

Thaddius nodded. "It didn't reach here, but..."

"How bad do you think it is?" Igris asked, clutching her wings around her.

Bartholomew, the old innkeeper-bear, shook his head. "I'd say let's sit tight. Let them come to us, and we'll find out that way. We're not adventurers, to risk ourselves exploring. Judging by this stone..." He turned, running a paw down water-worn cave wall. "...It's been some time." Then, he brightened. "I'll find some supplies. The honey's probably still good. A special on mead, do you think-? And I'll open up some requests--if there's anybody left to take it. And if there aren't... we'll train new adventurers. We can point them to that training dungeon nobody ever finished."

"Will anybody even come?" Irimel asked quietly.

Bartholomew smiled. "Just put your lights on. They'll see them. They'll be here soon enough. I'll go get the mead ready."

The shopkeeps made their way back through the cobbled street, lighting the lanterns as they went. And Bartholomew the Innkeeper made his way back to The Roaring Hearth Inn, preparing hopefully for new guests.

This thread is open for anyone to join. Bartholomew will prepare some basic food and drink from what he manages to gather up, but he needs supplies soon! Today's basic food and drinks are free.

In two days' time, on June 3rd, Bartholomew will address those gathered in his inn and point any interested parties toward a dungeon, where would-be adventurers might learn a thing or two--and maybe find some treasure, too! (The entire quest line will take, liquid time-wise, on June 1st.)

Curiosity killed the cat, or so they say. So sure enough, as whispers circled the caves, and a new winking of lights in a nearby tunnel attracted Tourmaline's attention. What she expected, she didn't know, but what she found was something that... felt like a home. Despite the dust and a long silence.

Her eyes dart amongst the market, of stalls still being sorted out. The folk her are busy, cleaning up, so she decides to leave them all be. But the tavern's doors are open wide, the firelight beckoning newcomers - so Tourmaline obliges.

It's quiet, still. The bar- no, bear-tender stands behind the counter, and there's hardly anyone else. So she struts right up. With a leap onto one of the taller barstools, she'd look up at Bartholomew, smiling. "Hello. This is a nice establishment you have here."

A chronic victim of wanderlust—or rather avid follower, the gentler term which Richter preferred—few places were there that the kangaroo's hops had yet to carry him. Having being born in one of the many tunnels connecting to Polaris, the heart of the caves, this region had been thoroughly explored during the wide-eyed cycles of his youth. No new, unadmired sights should've emerged during a leisurely stroll crossing through such familiar territory. And yet, undeniably, here one was: a warm glow emanating from a path never before encountered. More cautious sorts might have paused first before deciding to alter their course, checking for if this image was a deceptive trap or illusion. He, however, did nothing of the sort and stopped only to shuffle feet in preparation for fully embracing this detour from his Orion-bound route.

What harm, after all, could there be in visiting a place that gave off such a welcoming impression compared to other destinations he knew of? Surely an inviting atmosphere was worth taking in before departing to darker caverns.

Inquisitive snuffles could be first heard before Richter entered the tavern, drawn in by the scents drifting from its doors. They appealed to his stomach with carried promises of a hearty meal, and he found himself lamenting that for once he'd left his companion Harvey to lounge about somewhere safe during this little excursion. Not many gathered within these walls yet, but that didn't excuse politeness; a paw raised for a relaxed wave at Tourmaline and Bartholomew, always ready to put his best foot forward.

"Puh—pardon the intrusion. I couldn't help but, uh, notice you were open here and all those folks were setting things up outside too. Was wondering what the fuss was about, and well"—here a drooping ear was self-consciously tugged at—"what you had to munch on? Sorry, I'm, ah, just a little peckish is all."

Fleas liked caves that didn't look like they were going to kill her. Scorpio didn't look like a cave that was going to kill her. It was odd though. Not in a way that she disliked, though. It was odd in a way that reminded her of Cepheus, which was full of warm memories of cooking and relaxation. Nedies was a nice reprieve from (in her opinion) a cave full of horrors with ambiguous intentions.

Still, she'd be damned if she didn't have her suspicions. Fleas kept her eyes peeled as she slinked into the door. She paused, half in, half out. What was that smell? It was pleasant. Warm. She sniffed the air. It reminded her of the food in the palace, scents complex in the way she'd come to associate with spices. She jumped as she felt something cold on her front paw. Was that drool? Fleas licked her lips. It sure was. Well, that was embarrassing.

Fleas shook herself out, then padded up behind the others, her claws clicking on the floor. She briefly considered jumping up on the stool as the cat did, but just as quickly abandoned the idea. Fleas didn't trust herself up on that stool; she was so unbalanced now with these heavy wings. She cleared her throat to hopefully catch Beartholomew's attention and said, "Y'got any scraps?"

For some reason there was a baby here, too. Hrimfaxi trotted into Scorpio looking as if they'd belonged here all along. They oohed and ahhed at everything they saw. Every stall was closely inspected. Every road and every lantern poked and prodded at. Eventually, inevitably, Hrimfaxi trotted into the Inn, leaving their conspicuous footprints all over. They didn't find themselves drawn to the food, but instead the furniture itself inside the inn, and then, belatedly, the people. There werent many, but there were more than the horse had seen in their short few days of existence. With the snapping of ice and a high pitched whinney, hrimfaxi ran up.

"Hi! Hi! Hi!" Hrimfaxi said to everyone and everything at the counter.

This was new, she thought.

At least, she was fairly certain it was. She had passed by the tunnel a few times while looking for things to hunt and never had she seen lights coming from it. Some further investigation took her to somewhere that seemed new and alien to her, too-- though what took her primary attention was the inn.

So, Amesemi was swiftly poking her head in through the door and studying the other gembound that had made their way inside. Soon, her huge paws were crossing the threshold properly. Most of the others seemed to have gathered at the counter. Amesemi decided to join them.

Two were asking for food. Her ears flicked-- as much as she'd like food, too, a more important question was nibbling at the back of her mind. "What is this place?"

He'd just been happening by, but... well, he was curious, now. A new cave? At least, one he'd never seen before? Buildings, not ruined ones either; lights, little lanterns, not like the cave orbs. Sergei made his way into the well-lit tavern, checking in surprise at the small but cozy crowd. He was ready to edge back out again when he saw the other bipedal bear--and his eyes sprang wide. Before he could come up with a question, or introduce himself past the group, his nose swished sideways on its own.

Food.

At once, the barbearian's stomach growled.

A Long Hibernation

Bartholomew hadn't been this busy in... well, he didn't know how long it had been. He huffed and puffed as he hastened here and there, handing out drinks (the honey had kept, so the options were water or mead) and food (nuts, berries, and some roast cave deer--glazed in honey, too--he'd gathered and hunted himself). All of it was on plates, in mugs, with silverware. He'd washed and polished it all. That was his job! He was an Innkeeper!

So he worked while he talked, greeting everyone, answering questions, and explaining everything he could.

"Hello, feline friend!" (A smile toward Tourmaline.) "Of course, sit down, sit down, my, uhh--deer-rabbit guest?" (A guess, at Richter. He'd never seen a kangaroo.) "Scraps! No, no, sit! Have a proper meal. My treat!" (And a plate was placed before Fleas.

Hrimfaxi was guided happily to a seat that sort of fit a horse, and offered food; Sergei, too, was immediately handed a meal, a grin and a handshake. Amesemi asked the question of the day, though, and to this, Bartholomew could only smile. Broadly.

"Welcome to The Roaring Hearth Inn! Normally, we charge for food, but we're freshly opened, so please. Consider this a gift, in the hope of future custom! And our menu is cheap! Only two coins for lunch, or four for dinner! Drinks for two! Rooms for six! And if it's coin you need, I'm always happy to hire help, or there's the Bounty Board-" and here he turned, tapping the board at one wall. "Which, if nobody minds... I'd like to talk about." He cleared his throat, in case any of the typical inn chatter had started up between his patrons, and made An Announcement.

"As The Roaring Hearth is only just reopening, we're, err, rather low on stock! Bounties are open for those who can help gather food and other supplies. I've marked off what I need, for now, but if nothing interests you, check back! I'll change it as our stock shifts in and out. Err--if you can't read, I'm happy to read it for you! But!" There was a "thunk" as he gently, but heavily, planted the mug he'd been nervously polishing down onto a table. "I'm not sure if any of you have training as adventurers! We were thinking--err, all of us, in the marketplace, that I could point you toward one of the old training dungeons that was never finished. This way you could learn a thing or two about what you might need for gathering bounties! And maybe even get some gear to help you on the way. It'd be a show of good will, from us; and then you could maybe be better prepared for the bounty board. So if anybody is interested, where you need to go is..."

He took a few moments to sketch a map on a strip of leather. And a few more to explain the tunnels. "The old dungeon was split into four parts, so you'll need to find groups and split between them. The tunnels can be sort of narrow, so there's no point in all of you heading into one--and anyway, then there wasn't be enough loot to share around! The left-hand side is all made up of volcanic vents. It's hot, and smoky, but it's bright. I've heard there's no puzzles here, since it's just lava tunnels, but that doesn't mean it isn't dangerous. The loot there's mostly what you'd find off, err, those who didn't make it all the way through. You know--armor, weapons. Gemstones. That sort of thing."

He cleared his throat awkwardly and moved on, hastening to explain. "It wasn't ever very dangerous, though! Honestly I think those things were probably planted there as training! -So the next section, err, second tunnel from the left once you go through that gate. That bit's ancient ruins. Puzzles, traps, and real treasure. You won't run into wildlife there--I think--but you'd better have a brain to try that side out. It's not brute force as much as smarts you'll need. At least, I hope so. Then, second tunnel from right, that leads to the natural cave system. That is probably brute force!" he laughed. "No traps or puzzles, just pitfalls and wildlife. And lost armor and stones, probably. The far right tunnel is overgrown. I think it was ruins, but it's half collapsed, so you might get anything in there. Puzzles, traps, wild animals. But since it's collapsed, it's one of the sections that's not pitch black, at least. Oh! If you head into the ruins or the caves, you'll want to bring a light." He nodded, thought about it, and shrugged. "That's everything, I think! If you find a ton of coins in there--you know where to spend it!"

Bartholomew grinned at his guests.

This thread is open for anyone to join. Bartholomew has directed characters to The Staging Ground of the [Quest] The Training Dungeon! Adventurers may hear about the Dungeon here, or offscreen, and join the quest there to delve into a relatively low-risk, high-reward dungeon crawl.

Otherwise, Bartholomew will remain to answer questions--and serve free food and drinks for the evening.

@Tourmaline @Richter @Fleas @Hrimfaxi @Amesemi @Sergei

Standing there, somewhat awkwardly toying with the end of an ear, to hear his presence wasn't a bother at all proved a strong relief to Richter. Whatever nerves had lingered within fidgety claws dissipated under the sheer intensity of Bartholomew's hospitality, and before he could even register his movements, eager hops brought him straight to the bar counter.

"Ah, yes. Don't mind if I do," he murmured in gratitude. An uncomfortable pause followed as an eye swept over the stools set at the bar; taking into account his bulky tail, how exactly was the best way to take a seat here? He sidled up to one of those low enough that perhaps he could simply slip into a spot by scooching into it sideways on his haunch. Slowly but surely he eased himself into position. The approach seemed to be working well.

Then the unbalanced distribution of weight across the stool proved too much to handle. It, and by extension Richter, clattered to the floor. The impact knocked the air straight out of his lungs, and for a few seconds, the kangaroo sprawled there in a complete daze from the fall. Once the tavern's lights stopped dancing at the edge of his vision, he finally righted himself and stood back up with a meek clearing of his throat. Maybe amongst the commotion of everyone else entering the tavern his little spill had gone unnoticed.

Nevertheless, he couldn't let the incident go without comment. "Er, I'll... um, stick to standing room I think."

Hopefully that put the embarrassing situation behind him. A paw darted out to accept one of the offered mugs. Sips revealed that mead interested his palette far more than water ever had, and soon consumption of the drink progressed to intrigued gulps while listening to the bear bartender relate the status of his business and the existence of a dungeon for training adventurers. The entire concept of a dungeon might not have been fully comprehended, yet the very mention of what could be found within drew forth a natural hunger he'd carried all his life. It wasn't greed, no, but the desire to plumb unseen depths and discover tales of travels past, whether dire failure or glorious success.

"Well," he drawled. "If it helps you folks out, I don't see any harm in checking this dungeon thing out."

Sheepishness settled over what he asked next, his neck rubbed at in nervous anticipation of the answer. "You, ah, wouldn't happen to allow us to take food out too? Not right now. Just, uh, this here looks a lot. Might want to share it with a friend later."

Sergei put his shield and spear down and slid onto a bench. Then he ate.

It wasn't the best fare--as Bartholomew had said, the tavern needed food. But it was food, and this bear was ever-hungry. So he shoveled the simple meal into his maw, and drank deeply, but all the while one furred ear was tipped toward the innkeeper.

Dungeons? Bounties? Coins and tr--treasure.

And he could... pay for? More free food?

Sergei wasn't usually a sociable sort, but between the mead (honey! good!) and the promise of more food, his decision was quickly made.

"I will go," he said, thudding his own mug down as if to echo Bartholomew's gesture. "I will find treasure. And I will buy more food."

Now, that was a solid plan.

And he would go! ...Just after he finished his meal.

exit Sergei into some dungeons!

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Game Master Dark

Tourmaline

Richter

Fleas

Hrimfaxi

Amesemi

Sergei

Game Master Dark

Richter

Sergei