Young Writers Society

On the edge of every reality sits The Tavern. There are other taverns, of course, but this is The Tavern: a place for people from a host of different worlds to relax and interact with each other. The Tavern even sports an inn with several rentable rooms on the second floor, though the number of available rooms - and rooms in general - varies from day-to-day.

Though some guests at The Tavern do come intentionally, most wander into The Tavern thinking it's a regular tavern from their world. It's only when they interact with the other patrons that they realize that isn't really the case. There's something about the magic holding The Tavern together that hides the differences between worlds. They're still physically there, but they're easily ignored until the first word is spoken between guests from different worlds and realities.

Welcome to The Tavern.

And please enjoy your stay.



Note: I'm not running this roleplay/involved in it anymore, but it's the kind of roleplay that can run on its own. If you have any questions about joining this roleplay or how your characters can interact with the setting, make sure to ask those actually involved in the roleplay over in the OOC thread!

1. Please include a description of your character in your first post - you can throw it into a spoiler using the code down below and put it at the top of your post.

Code: Select all

[spoiler]Put your description here![/spoiler]

If you don't include the description in your first post, make sure to mention it over in the OOC thread!

2. Feel free to pick characters from whatever you want. They can be from another roleplay, a storybook, a novel or even a fanfiction of yours. The world, time and plot they're from ultimately just impacts how they interact with this roleplay, so it's really up to you.

3. You can have as many characters as you want, but there'll come a point where you can no longer add new ones because it'll get too overwhelming. I'll make sure to say something when that happens, so don't worry about it for now.

4. Please don't write for anyone else's characters. It's hard to predict what someone else might have their characters do, and it takes away some of the fun for the other writers.

5. You're free to have your character guess what the plot is, but don't make any plot-altering decisions with talking about with me first. You can PM me or chat in our OOC thread if you have an idea - I love scheming!

(It would also be really helpful if you said you were joining over in that thread, rather than in a post here. )

6. Don't post multiple times in a row, and make sure everyone has a chance to get a response in. There's going to be times where it makes more sense to post back-and-forth between two people, but try avoiding it unless you absolutely have to - it prevents the other writers from getting too behind and feeling like they aren't involved with the story.

7. Have fun!

Greed shoved open the doors to the beat-up bar and immediately the threads shifted. Like the floorboards shuffled in all different directions the moment they stepped on them. They faltered.

A flurry of internal cursing colored their thoughts as they marched up to the bar. The threads were thinner than usual, overlaid on top of...something. A low growl sounded at the back of their throat as they internally reached out and dug their claws into the fabric of this reality, pulling the unwoven threads apart, they stepped through to the next layer.

Medieval.

They should have guessed.

Looking around, it was clear that the Dreamscape wasn't the only reality cocooned around this place. It was like someone was trying to quilt every reality they could think of together by sewing them all on top of each other in the same place. Over and over. It was a feat, to be sure, but bound to end in disaster, especially with a multi-layered dimension like the Dreamscape connected.

Wrath would like this place. Moron.

Greed turned in a slow circle, evaluating the surface layer. The 'visible' layer, as Lust called it. What a stupid name. They could see just about every layer. The 'human' layer might be better. The 'simple' layer. 'Blind' layer. 'Thin' layer. 'Fragile' layer. 'Wrath's ego' layer.

Greed snickered. Regardless of the name, the layer was pretty boring. Adventurers, 'non-humans' who were really just humans with different proportions and 'abilities'. How special.

They walked to the bar and took a seat. A few stray glances lingered on them, probably because of the outfit this time - they were dressed for a 21st-century Earthen reality - and they met a couple of them, giving out a wink or two.

They turned around and leaned backward against the bar, balancing an ankle on their leg as they observed the bar.

A tall thin man pushes in from the outside, thunder cracking from behind him as he enters. He quickly closes the door against the wind and rain. He takes off his top hat and shakes it off and puts it under his arm. He is soaked to the bone. The smart suit is spattered with mud, the red magician's cape is weighed down with water, and the worn dress shoes squelch as he steps forward. His face his handsome, and he looks young, probably mid-twenties, but he is thin. A little to thin to be healthy and his bright green eyes are sunken. They seem to have a deadness to them, but it fades upon a second glance and is replaced by a charming twinkle.
"I'll take anything warm." He says to the bartender, plopping down on the stool and rubbing his eyes. He glances around, spotting Greed he looks them up and down, raising an eyebrow.
He opens his mouth but then falters. closing it. He turns away, but then his curiosity seems to overtake him, turning back again he puts on his best smile and addresses Greed."Good evening. How are you today?"

Greed raised an eyebrow at the bold stranger who managed to do more than stare. "I'm fine," they said with a smirk and turned to face the bar, leaning their elbows on it and tilting their head to the side.

"Though it's only 'evening' if you're looking on that side of things," they added with a chuckle.

Elem slipped into the tavern.

The air was cold outside. The temperature hadn't plummeted enough for him to start questioning where he was going to get a coat - last winter was so cold - but it was just chilly enough for him to appreciate the warmth a tavern could provide. If the fire roaring in the background wasn't enough, the presence of other people would warm the air just a little bit more.

He kept his head down when he walked in. He knew it was bad to go into a public place so late in the day, but he couldn't remember the last time he ate - and the dirty, muddy stream he had slept beside last night had been coated in a thick layer of frost that morning when he woke up. He wasn't sure his throat had ever felt so dry.

He only raised his head when he reached the bartender. He had just a few coins in his pocket, but it would be hopefully be enough for something to stop his stomach from growling and hurting.

"Can I have something warm, please?" he asked. He could just barely peer over the counter, even though the counter was lower than most were. He fished into his pants and grabbed a few meager coins. The bartender nodded, already in the middle of getting a meal for another person at the tavern. Elem did his best not to look. It wasn't safe to. The tavern wasn't dark at all, but if the shadows caught on his face in just the wrong way...

He shook the thought away.

He didn't want to think about it.

The bartender took care of both of their orders. Elem didn't see what hot meal was given to the other customer. His focus was only on the hot, warm bowl of stew that was gently slid across the table top. Elem returned the favor by pushing his coins across the table to the bartender - trying his best to climb onto the chair in the process. It had exotic, unfamiliar vegetables and miscellaneous kind of meat in it. It look healthy. Elem couldn't remember the last time he had eaten something so healthy.

He took a bite of it.

Or something so good and warm.

Oliver chuckles at Greed's comment and greedily take his stew, thanking the bartender. He seems to forget everyone else as he scarfs down the stew quickly, ignoring its heat. When he is halfway done with the stew he glances over at Elem. Another look of surprise passes over his face. "It's really coming down out there isn't it?"

Elem froze.

When he glanced over at the man who had spoken, he saw that the man was looking over at him. He had an expression of surprise on his face. That was never good. Ducking his head down and taking another bite of his stew, Elem gave a quick and frantic nod. The rain had started up just before he came into the tavern; it was part of the reason why he was so desperate for the warmth.

But then a little bit of his fear faded, and he couldn't help but glance back over at the man for a second look. Something about him had seemed off when he first looked at him. Now that he was giving himself a chance to look away from the man's face, Elem realized that his outfit was...strange. He looked like a character that had been taken right out of a storybook.

Greed rolled their eyes. The attention span of some people.

They flagged down the barkeep and ordered whatever was strongest. May as well have a bit of fun in this dimensional rift.

Glena stepped through the door of the bar and stopped. This wasn't Drinking Drop. This was something different. But it looked interesting, so she went in. There was a bar, thank God, and chairs. It looked like a real cozy spot, and there were already people sitting at the bar. Glena went up to the bar, her wings trailing behind her. She sat on a stool, had some trouble getting up courtesy of her short legs, and stared at the barkeep.

"Hi, how are you? Never mind, I don't care. Do you have any apple juice?"

The keep looked at her for a minute. "Apple juice?"

Glena nodded. "Yeah. What, you don't have that?"

The barkeep shook his head. "Kid, this is a place for adults. Why are you here?"

Glena pouted, sticking her lower lip out. "For apple juice. Obviously. Why don't you let me take a peek in the back, let me see what I can find, ok?"

The barkeep shook his head. "Look, I've never had to do this to a kid before, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Glena looked at him, shocked. "But...but-" she sighed. "Alright, I've never had to do this, but I'm going to have to ask you to move aside. I need my apple juice. "

Greed’s attention caught on a dwarfish fae child - not a changeling, one of the full blooded ones - who struggled into a barstool and requested apple juice. Then threatened the barkeep.

Greed snickered, swirling their drink. “You can have some of mine kiddo,” they said, offering the drink that now looked exactly alike to apple juice.

Elem turned his gaze away from the oddly dressed man to looked at the other child. She had ordered some kind of juice that Elem had never heard of. Elem shifted a little more in his own bar stool. If she wasn't allowed here, wouldn't he not be allowed, either? Everyone always thought he looked younger than he actually was. He was twelve (almost thirteen) but he could easily pass for being a little under ten.

But then he saw her wings.

Elem stared, blue eyes wide.

He was so distracted that he didn't notice another bartender slipping behind the counter - and that new bartender berating the old one for being so rude to a customer. Head hanging in shame, the first bartender left the main room and went into the backroom.

The new bartender slid a tall glass of apple juice over to the girl with wings.

"I'm sorry about that," she said. "I don't know what got into him. We allow everyone of all ages here - though we're always worried when someone on the younger side shows up unaccompanied. But if you want apple juice, we'll happily give you your apple juice."

Oliver watches this all in surprise, his eyes flitting about, filled with thought. The same thought that had tortured him for so long. He reaches inside his suit coat and pulls out a small leather notebook and studies the Fae child. He hasn't seen such children like this in his studies - fae touched? A disguise for a more dangerous being?

The hard lines of his gaunt face soften as he watches her drink her apple juice and he forgets the notion of dangerouse. He slides over to a stool next to her.
"Little one, where are you from? Are you lost?" He asks in a calm, reassuring voice, the dead eyes filling with a long-forgotten youth. His pen is poised not the paper, ready to write the response, and his eyes are solidly trained on the child. He is the picture of focus.

Greed slowly sipped their drink. That guy was far too interested in the kids. He was either some inter dimensional super dad, or just some creep dressed in the wrong era’s attire.

They set down the cup, the liquid inside swirling until it returned to its correct color. This was boring.

Either they could wait for someone interesting to arrive, or they could climb back through that rift.

.....But Time was still back there. Probably still seething. As entertaining as that was, Time could snap Greed in half.

A few more minutes. They’d give it a few more minutes.

Wilson popped up from behind the bar counter in full bartender attire: the vest, the bowtie, the hair pulled back. Oh, this was just like the days. Not the old days or the new days, because there was never old or new with her, but those were the days. And now she was in the days again, of bartender.

She gave a nod to the bartender giving the winged child apple juice and smiled.

"Aye, captain, I'm here to clock in to my shift," she said with a smile.

The bartender smiled and nodded. It was always nice to have two people manning the bar.

Wilson scanned the bar and saw the green-haired person sipping away at their drink, looking a little bored. She slid over to them and smiled.

"Can I help you with anything?"