Cloudstone - The Roleplay

[Nayaby]

“The dead have risen! Run for your lives!”

“Clouds below, I’m not dead! Put your fingers on my wrist. There. See, I clearly have a pulse.”

“Plague! It’s the plague! Run for your lives!”

“Listen friend, because I’m only going to say this once. I am not a zombie. I am not diseased. I am a troll.”

“Troll in the tavern! Troll in the tavern!” The panic-stricken man bolted out the door, a loose end of his turban trailing behind him.

“I thought you ought to know.” His whimper was audible from just outside the door. The whimper was followed by a faint thud. The poor man must have fainted.

“Don’t you worry ‘bout Professor Squirrel,” the barkeep, a bleach-blond woman dressed in green clothes, said. “We accept all kinds here at the Flying Pig. Troll or not, if you’ve got gold I’ll take it.”

She was armed, as were nearly all the patrons of the establishment. There had been a lot of monster attacks recently. Among the worst were the bloops and mud monsters.

“That man is a professor?” The troll seemed speechless, “A professor of what, exactly?”

“He’s got a doctorate in Running and Hiding, and he’s more than qualified to teach it. Got spooked by his own daughter wearing a bloop party hat, he did.” The barkeep gave the troll what seemed to be a genuine smile, “Never heard of trolls coming ‘round these parts. What brings you to Sky Haven stranger?”

“Call me Mruzguzad. That’s pronounced Mrooze-goo-zad.” He paused, “On second thought, just call me Mruz. As for why I’m here, well, there’s the bloops for one. They even managed to run all us trolls from our homes! It’s not as bad here, but just you wait. The bloops will spread.”

“Oh dear,” the barkeep said, “You must miss your cave terribly.”

“House!” Mruz shouted, “We live in houses! One human adventurer comes across one troll living in one cave, and suddenly the whole lot of us are branded as cavern-loving savages!”

“Didn’t mean to touch a nerve,” the barkeep said, then opened her mouth as if to say something before stopping herself.

“What? Out with it. If you have something to say, just say it.” Mruz didn’t mean to sound blunt, but it was trollish nature.

“Well,” the barkeep hesitated, “You seem rather… small for a troll. Small and clean. Aren’t trolls supposed to be... you know, big and uh… dirty? Excuse me for asking but, I mean, you wear glasses!”

Mruz sighed, “I’ll have you know that most trolls, myself included, shower regularly. In fact, I pride myself for my hygiene. This is doubtless another misconception started by that lunatic who lived in that cave.”

The barkeep looked abashed, “Of course, I suppose this one cave troll was abnormally large too. Another silly misconception.”

Mruz’s green skin suddenly began to take a peculiar rosy tint, “Well, uh, actually… that isn’t a misconception. I guess you could say I’m…” he took a deep breath, “… I’m a runt.”

“Ah,” the barkeep said, at a loss for words.

“Well, this has been a thoroughly awkward conversation,” Mruz said, feigning a smile. A single fang stuck out of the right corner of his mouth.

“You know what, have a drink on the house,” the barkeep said, handing him a mug of ale.

“Thanks,” Mruz said, sniffing the concoction briefly before gulping the whole thing down.

[Draco]

A slightly bloody mage with slightly ripped clothing and ever-so slightly broken wand walked into The Flying Pig. He wore crimson clothing that made the blood nearly invisible, and a large crimson wizard hat that obscured his head in shadow. The only thing visible of his face was a slightly creepy white mask that always appeared to be in a good mood, in a rather dangerious sort of way.

He walked with a slight limp over to the bar and expressed his not-so slight thirst by quickly ordering a drink. The bartender quickly shoved an unsightly bubbling concoction towards him.

An injured mage was no uncommon sight, for with no meaty bodies to place in front of them they quickly became bloop-food. For this reason none in the tavern paid him any mind, and any attention would have been unwarranted if not entirely unwanted. The strange drink quickly absolved him of all wounds, though left behind the nearly invisible blood.

He glanced toward the troll that he had sat down beside, and simply explained "I didn't run fast enough."

His drink done and his wounds healed, he dropped some gold on the counter and got up to have another go at wiping out the bloop infestation in his back yard.