Roth sits down on a tree stump and places a large tarp at his feet. He takes out his lute and begins to sing...

oh Drake was a lad a lad was he,
when one day a Princess he did see,
he tried to woo her,
She told the guard to keep him out,
so as the guard shooed him,
he began to pout.

He pauses for reply, and then in a strange act of commen sense pulls up the tarp to fend of the rocks and sticks thrown at him by the angry villagers. A blonde woman in the background snickers as Roth runs with harp in one had and vial of mead in the other(which he takes a swig from).

OOC: Hmm...what on earth should I be? I've been a herder, a farmer, a soldier, a...something else. Huh. I can't remember what my first job was. Oh, well. I guess I'll be something new. In any case, I can't be Meph. So I shall be...Mervyn!


Mervyn walks down the street, slowly pulling his cart piled with bricks up to the manor. One of the outbuildings needs repair, and as the only mason in town he is the one for the job. He used to have a brother who helped him, as he had once helped thier father. But his brother and father both died a few years ago in one of the many plagues that have struck the country over the last few centuries. Absorbed in his thoughts of how to fix the building, he nearly runs over the young maid. He stammers out an apology and quickly moves out of the way so she can continue up to the manor.

He stares after her for a little while, with a sad expression on his face, before once again trudging up the hill with the cart.

Roth runs down the hill past Mervyn with a devious plan forming in his mind. he is tiered of the townsfolk not liking his stories so he will create a story that appeals to the more basic side of humanity. He runs of to find some sort of apothacary or herbs shop where he can buy a love potion. With said love potion he will spike the keep's dinner so that the royal guests break out into a debacherous orgy, giving him a tale to tell for years to come.

"Please, I should been the one to apologize, I should not have been daydreaming, good sir. "

She waves behind her and continues on her way to the keep, waving at Roth the bard as he gathers his firewood for the day.

OOC: Sorry Crake, but in this land, like most others, love potions are illegal. The punishments for brewing or selling them are harsh...Now, if there's someone who is playing an apothecary, I'll leave it up to them to decide wether to follow those laws or not...

Curses. Roth the Bard shall have to fabricate some other story to appeal to the towns more animalistic urges(violence, treachery etc.). He thinks werewolves are a good idea because on the off chance anyone believes him they will be paranoid and hooked on his every strum. Heh, heh, heh... Now to write the lyrics.

OOC:Do you PM us our powers or just post them on this thread k-Bob?

OOG: I PM them. I won't do so until everyone has posted their names/jobs, etc. And until I assign roles.

Gregor passes near the keep every morning on his way into town. He pauses as he spies the lacemaker and gives her a friendly nod. "G'day to you, Ms. Greyson. Seeing young Charity off safely to work?" He smiles slightly, but frowns as he looks towards the keep.

"I do hope she shall stay safe."

Roth being the evesdroping snoop that he is asks Gregor,
"Why is everyone so worried about the keep? The security there is fairly lax. I mean me and my woman have been squating there for like years and living of their cellers. Oh you don't happen to know an apothacary around here do you?"

William Matthews is the local blacksmith. Quiet to the extreme, he is known to go several days at a time without speaking a word. This has had mixed results with the people of the town. Some trust him with many of their sectrets, while just as many are suspicious of his motives.

He has dark, curly brown hair, which is just starting to grow to a length that many feel is unrespectable for a man. His eyes are just as dark as his hair, and with his pale skin, are noticed by many.

His true age is unknown by the people of the town. He looks to be just entering his 20s, but most feel that he must be older, because he is his own master. The most accepted guess is "around 25," and even then there are some that feel this is guess much too young.

As an apprentice he became quite skilled in the art of weaponry. But in these times of peace, he sees that his true skills are unused. This does not mean that he is not a busy man. Instead, he longs for the times of war he knew so long ago, and is considering moving to a more... exciting... country.

Joseph is a poet. He doesn't have a wife, but he longs for one, and that is somewhat evident in his poetry (which he will show to anyone he can get to listen to it). He is a short, portly man, and not very attractive. It isn't that he isn't a very nice person... he just doesn't portray himself very well to others. He comes off as somewhat overbearing, a little annoying to a few.

He sighs and looks out the window next to his writing table. He watches the interactions between Roth, Charity, Mervyn, and Gregor.

Eliana, a pale slender woman somewhere between 18 and thirty curses to herself loudly as the contraption she was working on bursts into flames. Smoke pours out the front of her shop until she manages to douse the fire with one of the buckets of water she keeps handy. An inventor of amazing brilliance and much misfortune, she knows to be prepared for circumstances such as this one. For the most part she lives off a small amount her merchant father left her, but wisely realizing that it wasn't enough to support her and her inventive ways, she turned her workshop into a small store. Among the gagedts and technical type services she offers are a variety of herbs, trinkits, and various other oddities that might be useful. She was the designing force behind the town waterwheel, improved the saddle, and has an unfortunate tendancy to catch things on fire. Some claim she was cursed for taking up such a silly profession, others think it takes a real genius to figure out how to send a pile of wood freshly pulled from the river into flames.

Did I mention she sometimes flirts? She does. But only when not occupied with something even more interesting than men.

Frustrated at Gregor's stoic silence Roth proceeds into Eliana's store. After loking around he asks(and oausing to wonder why there is smoke), "You got any love potions in those herb sections? You see I need some to spin the greatest ballad of all bards before and after me."

Moses Landon, a bearded man of some notability, strolls through the middle of the town, puffing at his pipe. He pays little attention to the goings-on of the townspeople, and is more focused on the task at hand... that being the purchase of more tobacco for his pipe.
His complexion is pale and his hair and beard are a light brown, as are his eyes. While he isn't remarkably tall, he is broad accross the shoulders, not at all looking like the other members of the Town Elder's council.
He puffs as he continues his walk to the grocer's.

Isobel gives Gregor a small, nervous smile. "Yes, sir. She's a bright girl and I've raised her well, but I supopose I know as well as any what trouble bright, well-raised girls can get into. Still, she has my example, good and bad."

Isobel knows many townspeople are uncomfortable with her past, but she also knows ignoring the dragon in the room won't make it disappear.