welcome to the hanged man

[merchantprince]

THE HANGED MAN

[ As far as medieval taverns go, this one is pretty special. People of all walks of life congregate in the smelly armpit of the city. The stew is made from a different mystery meat each morning, and the ale tastes just a fraction better than nug piss. But it's home to some of the most colorful characters in the world.

If you're looking for work, information, or a good brawl, this is the place.

Or maybe you're from a faraway land and this is the first inn you've seen in a hundred miles. If you're a visitor from such a place, a certain dwarf might be interested in meeting you. ]

Comments

[antimagister]

[Oh look. The Hanged Man. There's that familiar smell of stale piss and vomit...

He's here to play cards - assuming, of course, that Varric and Isabela show up, as usual. Until they do, he'll wait. He considers, briefly, ordering a glass of something, but the odds of them having anything finer than old grape juice that isn't watered down are slim to none. He's not that desperate. at the moment.]

[merchantprince]

[Yeah, yeah, we know you like fine wine so you can throw it at the wall, Fenris. Damn waste of good wine. You're awful.

Nah, but, Varric is pretty happy to see Fenris, for certain values of 'pretty happy'. Of course there's no one banging down the door to Danarius' old manor trying to get him out of there, and maybe Varric has something to do with that, but he worries occasionally. Honestly, watching over Hawke's amazingly dangerous cast of characters is a full time job.

He flags down the barmaid and orders a round, just in case.]

Huh, you're here early. At least you won't lose to the dog tonight-- he's not coming.

[antimagister]

[There's plenty more in the cellar, go help your damn self.

A thank you, for... leading the hunters astray.

He scoffs at that comment, bemused, shakes his head.]

I still say it doesn't count if he has help. [SHRUG.] And I had nothing better to do. For one blessed evening, the city seems actually... quiet.

[aka, no Hawke coming to drag him into someone else's business! It's the small things...]

[merchantprince]

Yeah, well, you're still better than Anders.

[He takes a gulp of ale and shakes it off.]

Hah. Quiet. That's kinda what I'm afraid of. But, considering all the work we did clearing out the prowlers, it's probably not that unusual.

[antimagister]

That's hardly a comfort.

[Can we not talk about Anders? He kind of still wants to punch him in the throat.]

Give it until tomorrow. There will be plenty more where they came from. For now, I say we take advantage of the relative peace.

[merchantprince]

[He knows. But considering Anders always loses to the damn dog, it's something.]

Sure you don't want to ruin it yourself? Maybe... throw one of Hanged Man's vintages at Willard over there? [He squints discerningly.] If he doesn't show signs of life in another ten minutes, the barmaid's gonna kick him out. Might be doing him a favor.

[He shuffles the deck of cards.]

Or we could play a quick game of Divines. Your call.

[antimagister]

[He glances Willard's way, watches the poor sod as he all but drools all over the table...]

And rob the barmaid of her favorite duty? I wouldn't dare.

[So with a shake of his head, he turns his attention back to Varric, and points to the cards in his hands.]

Go ahead and deal them. We should have time. Who else is coming tonight?

[merchantprince]

[He nods, smiling, and shuffles the cards a while before dealing. As usual, Varric plays the dealer, and the house has the advantage; Divines is basically Blackjack.]

Hawke. Donnic. Small crowd tonight.

Hit or stand?

[antimagister]

Small crowd, just as lofty stakes.

[oh, you guys... but hey, he enjoys this. Though getting him to admit it out loud might be only slightly easier than pulling teeth from a living dragon.

He peers at his face-down card, considers it with the card on top...]

Hit.

[merchantprince]

Always lofty stakes with Hawke around. The Champion has some luck.

[Varric deals again, then blinks.]

Well, shit. There's your point. Probably the best hand either of us will play all night.

[He clears away that round, then deals once more.]

[antimagister]

Luck, and no problem with being conniving and sneaky.

[He blinks, too. That's the last thing he ever expected.]

You're right. There's no way that will ever happen to me again.

[He's amused, at least, as he looks his new hand over... Careful not to make a face, he nods.] Hit.

[cataclysmruin]

[This... is so far from Pandora, it's scary. It's different. It's exciting!!

Maya is practically beaming as she enters The Hanged Man, the smile on her face looks like it's fit to split it right in two. She looks pretty out of place, all things considered - bright blue hair, pale skin, tattoos all up and down her arms... but most of the patrons are too drunk to really be staring at her, so she's taking that as a good thing and headed right for the bar!]

I'll have--... Um. ... What is there to have here?

[She looks puzzled, but somehow happily so.]

[merchantprince]

Ale. If you can call it that. Even the water is... watered down. It's a cheap drink, and that's what you get.

[That's how he introduces himself. The newest weird addition to the bar has caught his attention. He flashes her a winning smile.]

Welcome to the Hanged Man, the most illustrious tavern in the Free Marches. For certain values of illustrious.

[cataclysmruin]

Watered down ale... that seems more like home.

[She smiles again as she turns to face him. Hmm, he's short - like Salvador! Except his hair is a lot neater than the Pandoran's. Maybe this place isn't so different from Pandora after all! Well, except for the distinct lack of guns. And grenades. And acid-spitting skags.]

The Hanged Man! I like that name. Is there a story to it?

[merchantprince]

The wine is worse. [He pulls out a chair for her, ever the gentleman, and takes one for himself. A wave and he's got a round of ale coming.]

The statue didn't tip you off? [He laughs lowly.] They used to hang men here. By their feet.

[cataclysmruin]

[She takes that chair! And she smiles at the way he easily waves over a round - clearly, he's very well known here. Interesting!]

Oh, I see! I thought it was only decoration, after they picked a name... What sort of crimes call for hanging men by the feet?

[Tell her more!!]

[merchantprince]

You know, I'm not actually sure. They don't do it anymore, though. I mean, unless you get caught in some kind of... tree trap.

[He shrugs. His ale is untouched.]

I couldn't help but notice that you seem a bit... foreign. In a good way. [A wink.] Where are you from?

[cataclysmruin]

Hmm, now that, I have seen.

[Ah, stupid bandits and their stupid failed traps, the way they end up hanging each other or themselves instead of their intended targets... Never ceases to amuse her.

That wink gets a grin... But her ale certainly won't go untouched, and she takes a sip before answering.]

Athenas! But I haven't been there in a very long time, and I'd never go back. Are you from here, then? It looks like everybody knows your name, at least.

[merchantprince]

[Yeah he's not really a big fan of the ale. Doesn't help that the barmaid always gets his order wrong.]

Born and raised. [He's sensing a story here, and threads his fingers together.] Athenas, huh. Is that where you got the tattoos?

[cataclysmruin]

[Eh. It's alcohol (she's pretty sure) so she'll choke it down one way or another. She's not about to turn away free booze.]

Close enough. [Her smile is a touch secretive now.] I'm a Siren. I was born with them. It's kind of like a side effect.