Harbringer Doom
03-27-2007, 05:29 PM
(Recently posted on all entrances to the Bar of Brell) Dear Citizens of Norrath: First, I would like to thank all the citizens of Norrath who choose to visit this establishment in peace, and with joy in your hearts. Our doors always remain open to the fine, peaceable citizens of this land, and we hope you enjoy your future time at this establishment. Unfortunately, recent events have forced me to address some ever increasing, shall we say, "hostility issues" which have been arising more frequently at the Bar. If something is not done, or if some accord is not reached, I'm afraid costs of repairs will soon outweigh the benefits of doing business, and I may be forced to close for good. You see, dear friends, we at the Bar believed that it would be a wise business decision to open portals just outside of the two largest cities in Norrath. Thus, with a little research, a lot of magic, and the consent of both the Queen and the Overlord, we were able to afford access to the Bar to the largest amount of Norrathians. Merely step outside the main entrance of your city, and you can be whisked away in moments to our fine establishment, to raise a pint with some of the most festive people around. Look, let me be blunt. The fights have got to stop. Since I opened the portals to the bar a week and a half ago, I have had to replace 47 tables, 92 chairs, I've had 432 bottles of liquor broken "accidentally", I've had to pull 23 bodies out of the bathroom waste pits, 5 people have fallen through the second floor onto the bar, the front door has been smashed in half 27 times, and sixteen of my best employees have been injured, killed or fatally wounded. My arm is currently in a sling, I have an arrow wound in my thigh, a black eye, a cracked skull and 45 stitches in my back. This madness has got. to. stop. Last night, I was locking the place up for the first time in a week and a half when an ogre smashed in the door with three ratonga friends. The door broke my nose and sent me careening across the bar. I had sent my staff home, and I was the only one left. These troglodytes (I didn't get their names) proceeded to drink all my remaining Antonican Ale without even the illusion of payment. They pretended they didn't even speak my language. At first, I was grateful when the arrows started pouring in the now-broken door. Apparently there were Rangers outside firing a volly of arrows into my rude "guests," as they had been hunting them for hours. To my dismay, immediately following the arrows, about 16 swashbuckers tore through the place throwing roundhouse attacks with a flock of spinning blades. All the furniture on the entire first floor was turned to matchsticks in a matter of seconds. Poison was splattered everywhere. Seconds later, when the dust settled, it was clear that the remains of the first floor of the bar were painted, literally painted, in ogre and ratonga blood and body pieces. Then, the snickering band of human, halfling and kerran scouts proceeded to take the place of their victims at the bar, finishing off the Antonican Ale and moving onto the Blackborrow Stout. Without even offering me a glance! Those ratonga must have planned some sort of meeting, because as I was mopping the floor, and cleaning up the destroyed furniture, a huge group of ratonga came through the door laughing in that low hissing laugh that chills the blood, apparently without a care in the world. The moment the ratonga (there was seventeen if there was one) saw the Antonican scouts at the bar lightning filled the room, arrows began to fly, war cries went up, and I soiled myself. I lost track of the damage when my hair caught on fire, but the ratonga using me as a shield for quite a bit of the battle didn't improve my disposition. I was crying at the top of my lungs for them to take the fight outside, and to be honest, I'm pretty sure the stifle I was hit with wasn't accidental. Eventually, the overwhelming party of ratonga cleaned up the scouts, stole all my remaining cheese and other dairy products, and left while the main floor and half the stairs were still burning. Its been eleven days of this, Norrath. I can't take much more. If the madness doesn't stop by tonight, tomorrow I will be packing up my things, closing down the portals from the Commonlands and Antonica and shutting down the bar. For good. I tried, Norrath. This is my final attempt at peace. Sincerely, Grogg Steinslinger Proprietor, Bar of Brell