The Dragon's Perch

Introducing the Misfits

Let's begin shall we? The bumbling large man sitting on that comically small chair? With the quart of Goat's Piss, seeming to not even be aware of his surroundings? That's our wonderful fighter, Atrazar. Six foot four, two hundred and fifteen pounds of pure muscle, and an ugly mug that can make even the nicest person avoid him. The irony is that he's quite intelligent, just... not that great with wisdom. Don't even get me started on his charisma, like he needs serious help with people.
In any case, he's quite a character. He's currently drinking the beverage, wearing traveler's clothes, light armor over it. His boots are scuffed from his time out in the Outlands alone, and he's quite obviously avoiding any kind of interaction. He's dark skinned, his hair down to his chin and tied back at the nape of his neck, the shorter locks falling in front of his face. His eyes are a dark gold, seeming to pierce through any one person's eyes who meet his. His clothing is comprised of dark colors and tattered, The top more ripped than his trousers, which drift around his boots. He has one tattoo on his body, it's on his forearm. A symbol of his tribe, which perished in the King's ordered mass burning after the plague that swept the Outlands decades ago. His hand-axe is attached to his belt by the handle, the blade facing behind him as to avoid chopping anything... precious off. The morningstar is tucked into his pack, along with his battle axe. He's not much of a talker, preferring to charge in without much thought to it.
Speaking of things that he is, Atrazar is the strong, silent type, usually in the back of the group unless directing our leader on how to get around the terrain. He has a strong dislike of gnomes, but that could just be because of the time one in a red g-string hit on him. Not a pretty time. A hulking mass of brooding, he has a lot of pent up rage that he has to yet work through, since he essentially watched his family burn alive. The rumors are he had a little girl who died in the fires, and he will occasionally have hallucinations that she's calling to him.
At this point, he lifts the pint to the bartender, signalling another one. And who should step in and stop him but the next person on our list, our Cleric.
As I mentioned previously, the one who is telling Atrazar he's had enough is our Cleric, Nilera. She's only five foot five inches, average for even a human, but her looks are what sets her apart, with her shiny, dark hair, streaked with lead gray, her skin a shining bronze, and her eyes a glittering sapphire blue. She's lithe, with an athleticism built for sneak attacks and weaving to heal. She's wearing a cream colored dress, which gives her freedom of movement by slits up on the sides about mid thigh, showing off her bronze skin while walking. She's wearing a light chain mail armor, enough to offer enough protection that she wouldn't die immediately. Her only weapon is a mace, which is in her pack along with her other materials needed to heal others and pray to her god of choice.

Nilera convinces Atrazar to stop drinking the Goat's Piss and gets him to agree to go up to his bed in an hour, once he's sobered up enough to walk. Right now, she fears that if he tries to walk he'll injure himself. As she walks pass him, she notices that he's reaching for someone's Parroty Parrot and she quickly swipes it from him, delivering it to the barmaid before going back to her seat in a back corner. Her boots that stop below her knee are a darker cream color, which brighten considerably over her bronze legs. She gives me a nod before going back to talking to a tiefling; she's very much the type to give anyone a chance, regardless of their race or choices. As she talks, she's fiddling with the cross on the leather cord around her neck, her thumb busily rubbing over the tiny figurine on it.

Four foot, three inches, and a hefty one hundred forty pounds, next up in our gang is Dorsil Berylmace, or Dorsey as everyone calls him, our resident hippie- I mean druid. The first thing you notice is the thick, bushy, tawny beard on his face, making his cheeks and nose ruddier than normal, his blue eyes twinkling under equally bushy eyebrows. The beard falls half way down his chest, stopping just above his belly button. What skin you can see is the dark brown of clay seen by a swamp, and he wears it proudly. He's dressed in a dark green tunic and muddy brown trousers over thick soled boots. His cap is dark green to match his tunic, and he's wearing light, leather armor. He's drinking a Dwarven Hammer, which is probably why his beard is so lustrous right now.

His weapon of choice is a throwing hammer, which is on the floor next to his foot, with a warhammer strapped to his back. In his pack are also darts, a club, and a sickle. For a druid, he seems to like being prepared for a battle of every type. He notices Nilera swipe the drink and proceeds to guffaw as Atrazar falls on his face. As a dwarf and a hermit, at that, he's distrustful of most but especially doesn't trust Atrazar, the half-orc he is. A long and terrible history, it is. When Nilera hears this, she spins, locking him into one of her penetrative gazes, causing him to look down as though searching for bits of food in his beard. Sigh, he never learns.

Oh, look, a shadow has caught my eye, I wonder who it can be.

For a second you can see her face, and just as quickly she's gone. Our resident rogue, Riborys, or Rys, as we all call her, against her will, is picking pockets and causing mayhem as usual. A tiefling, she and Nilera have a strained understanding of each other: Nilera doesn't butt into what she does, and Rys doesn't give her shit for being an angel, literally.

She's wearing black tight pants, a black top, and black leather armor over it. A black hood is draped over her head and down her shoulders, shrouding her face in more darkness, but her muted red skin and dark purple hair gives her away regardless. As she reaches into a nobleman's pocket, he spins around and grabs her wrist. "THIEF!" he yells, and panic crosses her face before she pulls her wrist out of his grip.

Drawing her dagger she points it in his face, glaring as she hisses, "You saw nothing..." As she said this, trying to use her intimidation, it fails, and the man laughs at her face. She did not intimidate him in any way, seeing as he lifts her high in the air and guffaws louder.

"BARKEEP!" he yells, and just as quickly as he says it, in comes our Bard. Oh, please, Gods bless us...

In comes Vanorin, our bard, who is also called Rin in our group, who's actually decent as a bard. He slides in between the nobleman and Rys, quickly smiling. He's wearing a loud red coat, with a dark blue tunic and equally red trousers, a three piece suit of type. He's holding his lute, smiling still. With his blonde hair, summer green eyes, and pale skin, he doesn't look like your type of bard. "Tut, tut, tut, kind sir, why should you kick out this patron for an assumption?"

The nobleman glares down at Rin, "I'll have you know, I caught her hand in my pocket! That should be more than enough."

Rin nods, as though listening along with him. "Yes, but, you also only have an assumption. Here, listen to a song!" He strums his lute and launches into a rallying melody, distracting the patrons enough for Rys to vanish back into the shadows. This melody also caused the more aggressive patrons to start brawls and bar fights in various corners. Rys grabs my hand and I know it is now my turn.

Sighing, I reluctantly moved over to where they were, grabbing Rin and dragging him out of the tavern along with Nilera grabbing Atrazar as Dorsey and Rys slipped outside. When waited till we were a good sixty feet before reconvening and I quickly took note of everyone. "Rys, come out of the shadows!" I snapped, already tired and wanting the day to end, despite the fact it was only high noon.

Rys reluctantly came out of the shadows and I rubbed my face. "All right, so, this wasn't our greatest. I'm decently sure we just got banned from yet another tavern." I looked around slowly at each and every one of us. "Fantastic job." We began walking towards the gates of the city, keeping an eye out for guards as we walked. Once we were past the gates, I pulled out a map. "Atrazar, which way?"

Before he could answer, a man ran up to us. "Please, you have to help me find my daughter." I looked over at the rest of my team before looking over the male.

"Excuse me?" I asked, crossing my arms. I was honestly confused, seeing as no one approaches us for help.
         "The dragon took my daughter, please, you have to go find her," the man pleads with me, and I look at the rest of us. Drunk, disorderly, thieves. Will we do it?