RP:Rowen in a box and the Frostgiant cliff artist

Setting Frostmaw Tavern 13 Nov 2011

The tavern is slightly chilled, and more uncomfortable to those who enjoy the warmth that other buildings and inns have to offer. As you glance about you see normal sized chairs for visitors such as humans, dwarves, elves, and the like of medium sized humanoids that would enter and leave this place. Along all four walls lays a large oak made booth, suitable for its giant inhabitants to sit and enjoy their drinks and meals in comfort, among the booths lay various blood stained marks as well as chips and cracks along the surface from older brawls that had taken place in the passed. Upon further inspection, this massive tavern seems to have a skeletal head of a large dragon hanging from the cieling, wrapped and constricted in pale blue chains, while your eyes continue to explore, you notice a rather bulky and well toned frost giant behind the bar. Upon his left eye, which you notice is blinded, a scar travels down and along his jaw, traveling even further to his neck, and vanishing under the heavy clothing that rests on his chest. The large bartender simply watches you, awaiting to see if you are here to rest, or order from the menu, as well, beside the old giant awaits a massive sized war-axe, incase you would be here to start some trouble.

A Special Delivery

A frostgiant postman, his beard white with frost enters the tavern and removes a brown paper package neatly tied up with garden twine from his satchel, this he presents to Drargon, before with an envious glance at the huge tankards of ale, he leaves to continue his deliveries. The barkeep unwraps the parcel to find it mostly filled with hay, but curlled up in the centre, is a snoring little rat, with a cheese, and a waterbottle. The supreme empress of the known universe has posted herself to Frostmaw. Again.

Valentin || Ulfgar sat at one of the giant seats by the bar, a keg-sized tankard of frostbite brew in his hands. The giant wore a large kilt, but was barechested, with a bearlike pelt of hair covering most of his torso. Ulfgar's profession was splattered all over him, as kilt, arms, and chest hair all bore dried blotches of blue paint. When Drargon opened the unusual package, Ulfgar commented "New pet, Drargon? I bet you lose it within a week." Rowen was busy yawning sleepily, but on hearing Ulfgar's derisive comment, she gives him a piercing glare. The rat might look more impressive were she not covered in bits of hay, with her fur sticking up everywhere, and a forepaw missing. Then again, not -that- much more impressive. "I'll have you know, young man, that I am none other that Rowen Stronghammer, the supreme empress of the entire universe and dear friend of your own fine queen Satoshi, she and me rubs shoulders you know."

Valentin || The frostgiant artist blinks "Well, you don't say." The queen's eccentricity when it came to pets was infamous in Frostmaw: it seemed everytime Satoshi left the country she returned with some new creature for the menagerie. And rumours had a talking rat as one of them. "Apologies then, Rowen Stronghammer and Queen-friend." Still, there was one thing which Ulfgar just had to account for "But why would you be... posted?"

Rowen is magnaminous when the fellow apologises. "That is quite alright, think how fortunate you are to have the honour of meeting such an extraordinarily fine person as myself." She cleans her whiskers fastediously, while seemingly unaware of the hay still littering her fur. "I posted myself to avoid freezing all three of my paws off walking or rolling. The memorial to the best dressed man of all time is blessed, but not heated, you see." She seems to think that explains everything.

I hight Ulfgar, an artist of the frozen wastes

Valentin || Ulfgar ponders this... wisdom. Still, the sight was unusual enough to warrant further investigation. Ulfgar had always seen the world a bit differently to his brethren, the artistic urge driving him to canvas rather than the hunting grounds. In any case, a talking rat would always be quite the barside story with Drargon there to confirm its veracity "An honour in truth, Queen-friend Rowen Stronghammer. I hight Ulfgar, an artist of the frozen wastes. What brings you to wintry Frostmaw?" Drargon, in the meanwhile, had moved to the other end of the bar to serve a different patron some frostmaw ale.

Rowen replies seriously,"I am here to save the universe again, I save it most thursdays. Hollow and many other worlds are in terrible danger from a rouge outlaw rice-pudding bandit." The insane rodent regards the man's huge blue paint splattered chest with sympathy, and a little concern for her own health too. "That is a rather disfiguring skin condition you have sir. Pray assure me that it is not contagious. I am not vain, but as empress, it is important I look my best for my loyal subjects." She has made no connection between his claim to be an artist, and the areas of pigmentation on his skin.

Valentin || Ulfgar laughs from deep within his belly "It is paint, little Rowen. I use it to paint pictures on the cliffs. Perhaps I shall show you some time"