Dark Days in Denerim - A Dragon Age Roleplay

(So, yeah, was bored, thought this'd be a fun RP to try. Feel free to hop in or hop out whenever you like. RP's set before or around the events of Dragon Age: Origins, as that's the only one I've played/know the lore on. Going with sort of a darker tone, not neccessarilly sad or depressing, but more serious and perhaps emotional story, set in Denerim for now, as it's a big city with a lot of options.)

In one of Denerim's smaller, darker bars, a rogue sat in a chair in one of the corners. She couldn't afford a room, as she'd spent all her coin on drinking herself to sleep the previous two nights. Upon running out of coin, she was half-drunk, in this chair in the corner of a bar. Reason for her depression? Well, that was her business for now. After awhile, she kinda falls out of her chair, groaning a bit as she pulls her thin body off the floor, straightening up. She's a mess, her leather armor barely on and her bright red hair less-then-neat. Still, she's atleast sober enough to reach a table and take a seat. If someone's already sitting at it, so be it, she didn't mind, as she was immediatelly asleep. The bar, at the moment, was rather quiet. And aside from the half-asleep and rather drunk rogue, not many were present. There was a bartender, who looked a bit annoyed at the woman who was passed out nearby, and several hooded men sitting at another table, whispering to each other. What's the storyline to this, you may ask? It seems like just a passed out rogue in a bar late at night, you say? Well, we'll get to that. For now, someone needs to wake up the rogue, or see what those hooded men are about-- or just get a drink and see what happens.

A female dwarf with red hair, and leather armor came into the bar. She strolled by the sot of a rogue, a pair of daggers on her back. "Hey, barkeep. Your strongest stuff. I swear your beer tastes like horse piss."

The barkeep, an older human gentleman, mumbles something under his breathe and leans down to reach to a shelf under the bar. He sets a mug on the bar, then pours the dwarf an ale, setting the bottle down beside the mug. He sighs and goes back to cleaning other mugs. Man of few words, that.

The dwarf dropped a couple of silver on the bar, taking the tankard and moving to a table, the bar being too damn high for her. She sits down, and drinks her ale, eyeing the hooded guys warily.

The hooded men continue talking among themselves, seeming to be quite occupied with their own conversation, despite trying to keep it as quiet as possible.. Every so often they look around to make sure no one's to close. The nearby rogue begins snoring in her chair.

The dwarf looks annoyed, and casually moves to the rogue's chair, kicking it out from under her.

The rogue squeeks as she falls, and groans as she pulls herself off the floor, "Oi! What was that fer?" She stumbles a bit, "..Shorty."

"You were snoring like a sodding git," the dwarf said, sitting down, and taking a swig of her ale.

A human female walks into the Bar. She wore a pair of knee-high black leather boots, a pair of dark grey pants and a short black tunic over a chainmail shirt. The tunic bore the sigil of House Werlau, a local Noble house. On her belt was a sheathed longsword. It looked to be of better quality than the average weapon. She was pretty enough, but certainly not overly beautiful. Her long black hair was tied up in a ponytail with purple dyed streaks in her bangs. Her most noticeable feature was her bright violet eyes. She strolls over to the bartender and takes a seat. "The usual, if you would."

The rogue mumbles, "Was not. I don't snore." She gets back in her chair, yawning.

"Everybody snores when they're drunk off their asses. Didn't you know that?"

"She's right, you know." Cassandra glances towards the two, before looking over to the group of hooded men, and waving the barkeep over.

"Nope, not me, I never snore." The rogue rubs her eyes, sighing.

"And I say you were snoring like a sodding git," the dwarf said with a smirk. On her face there was a tattoo. To most it looks like a blocky S. To a dwarf, it's a Dwarven "C".

"How rude." She dusts herself off, rubbing her eyes again as she settles back into her chair. The bartender brings the Noble a tall mug of whatever 'the usual' is for her.

Cass nods to the bartender, then subtly gestures towards the hooded men with her eyes. She lowers her voice. "How long they been here?"

The bartender glances over at the trio of hooded men, then back to the noble, lowering his own voice, wich is quite dark and gruff, "Couple hours."

Cass takes a sip of her drink. "They do anything other than talk?"

"Nope. One of them bought an ale, but nothing else."

The noble woman nods once and takes another sip of her drink. "Thanks."

The bartender nods and goes back to cleaning mugs. The rogue across the room stands and stretches her arms, then heads over to the bar.

Cass glances over to the rogue, looking her over for a second before returning to her drink.

The rogue yawns, "Hello, fancy pants." She puts her forehead on the bartop, yawning again. The bartender shakes his head and sighs.

"Hello to you too, raggedy ann." Cass smirks a bit, taking another gulp of her drink.

"I'd come up with a witty response if I was thinking straight."