As a Storm Brews Above the Vale...

[Komodo 140]

Lightening strikes the skies past the Vale, and thunder rolls as a storm brews over the quiet settlement. Clouds gather over the holes, flecks of water sprinkle Doc's Dock. Halflings begin to rush about running to their holes to prepare for the oncoming storm. A few however remain at the Drunken Sheep, decidedly to wait out the storm with a flurry of drinking and stories by the fire. Little do these halflings know is that they are in for quite a few tale this night. As the last halfman reels in his rod and makes his way to the inn, the rain sprinkles starting to come more frequently, a noise can be heard in the far distance, the opposite direction of the Salmon. A loud, "thunk, thunk, thunk" of a walking sick hitting the road. The sound resonates about the Vale, as if it is keeping a beat. Then, another noise follows. Ney, tis not a noise but, but a song. A voice, that of a halfling, whistles a high tune, sounding something like this...

http://youtu.be/SNwjUWKP18c

The whistling goes on for sometime until, quite suddenly, the whistler breaks into song.= to the tune of the song.

"Oer' hill, oer' dale, te' rain comes sweepin down te' Vale. Me feet be tirin' fro' walkin roun' te' ben',"

The singer goes on with the tune for some time, a melody of lyrics being heard, mostly having to do with travelling, rain, and drinking. His voice frequently switches between the lyrics and the whistles, as if to keep up the upbeat shanty song. The halfling peer through the open door on the Sheep, their eyes awaiting the travelling singer's approach "roun' te' ben'". And low behold, a figure is then seen walking around the corner, right towards the Drunken Sheep. The halflings whisper among themselves, it being quite obvious that he walked here, as he did not come from the direction of the Salmon. Traveler here continues the cheery tune, his weather stained evergreen cloak billowing around his ankles in the wind of the coming storm. Rain begins to fall the closer he gets to the inn, what dark black locks of his that poke from beneath the hood become glossy in the dampness of the this night. His skin is tanned from traveling, his clothes not as clean as that of a Vale halfling. However, there is something rather odd in this one's eyes. A mysterious glint of mischief, trouble making almost, alludes to this particular halfling. His eyes, dark as his cloak, are deep, and suggest that they have seen many things.

The odd character finally arrives at the doors to the inn, still whistling. He walks in quite matter-o-factually, as if he has just returned from an evening stroll round the Vale. Hanging up his cloak on a peg and leaning his walking stick in the corner. He makes his way to the fire to take a seat, the barmaid making an odd gesture to him as if to get a drink. The rest of the halflings remain speechless, odded by this one's behavior. The traveler waves off the barmaid with a curious smile, halfway between a grin and a smirk, as if he is unsure which one would fit the situation best. He reaches into his cloak, withdrawing a simple flask, uncorks it, and takes a hearty swig. His eyes liven and he sits by the fire, warming himself, taking swigs from the flask. He whistles between drinks, drinking in both the inn and the strong liquid. He goes on gazing at the other halflings in the inn with his odd expression. As they look amog one another, the halflings that remained in the inn for the storm soon realize.

We're in fer quite ah' night...

[LaCabra (Soda) 1519]

Bili, ogling over the Halfling's entrance, sits on a barstool in anticipation to learn his name. He holds his hands tightly together, and crosses one of his legs. Growing frustrated that the others in the bar won't ask his name, Bili finally summons up the courage to ask the stranger a question.

"Now 'o in the name o' the Pumpkin Lord are ye?"

[Komodo 140]

The traveler's eyes flick about the inn, then move to Bili. Raising his eyebrows, he gives Bili the odd smile he appears so find of. His features seem to say,

"Now, aren't you a brave one,"

The halfling is roughly middle aged, early to mid thirties in human years. He takes another swig from the flask before opening his mouth to speak with the audacious halfling in a hearty accent.

"Me name be 'Mistah' Ovahhill', tha' be what they call meh',"

The halfling takes another swig from the flask and begins to fumble through his pockets, looking for something.

[Merkaken 516]

Popo Sandybanks looks at the Halfling walking in, rolling his eyes. "Seems some 'o the people 'ere can' stop actin' like children. Lovely." He sighs, taking a pipe out, lighting it and starting to smoke.