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 Geareg! The turn of the century had seen a twist of fate for the globe, but here was the seed of it's rebirth! Yessir, society was on the rise as the noble Dwarven Houses and the common man's duly elected senators gave permission for the full development of the city of tomorrow! Come one, come all! The stone-blooded man will take you in, his own immovable and glorious society rooted into the rock below, the rolling hills and temperate woodlands above now yours, to reclaim a sensible life! Within the year Geareg was the largest frontier town of it's kind, the former trading outpost that only entertained trading caravans upon the surface now supporting residents in the thousands! It'd be fair to say that any man could find an honest living here but life wasn't often fair. Not if it could help it. I could write for paragraphs of the grace and beauty of our twin Gearegs and the rise of our sister city on the surface, but I've saved that for Geareg: An Authoritative History which I trust any learned scholar would find in circulation by the next Spring. No no, I am here to catalogue those curious incidents that have become the stuff of legend, each telling more fantastic than the last! I'm getting ahead of myself...  As the crossroads of the new world, you've all been drawn to Geareg by the promises of prosperity, the thrill of discovery or the offer of easy money. The reality is a town where common labor is abundant but the upper class seems forever out of reach. The town has a good number of old-style Dwarven buildings and paved streets at it's center, most claimed for the privilege of the wealthy and all other buildings rising out of necessity in rings around the old districts and the railway that leads to Geareg's Dwarven capital. Many impressive buildings and brick apartment complexes rose at first and new factories are built daily but in recent days Geareg has become ringed by numerous small garbage dumps and shanty towns as more people arrive every day. Now a call falls upon you, whether through word about town, being reminded of a debt or direct order by those you know: one of the big men around town has an offer for you. The meeting place is a dive near the local iron-works that combines the best faking of high-class appeal while selling a poor man his liquor and giving him the tables to lose it with a few hands of Cards. The sun sets and while the Besotted Beholder's hanging sign is lacking in taste to some but to most the comical image of a head of eyeballs soaking itself with floating cups of ale is a welcome sign after a hard day's work. Made of fine woods polished to a sheen over sturdy stonework, the interior is warm and welcoming, twin fires blazing in a double-wide fireplace in a posh club lounge ringed by three bars. In the spaces between the bars you'd find the entrance to one side and a decently large wooden stage on the opposite end where a short woman in a jumbled mess of silk, furs and leather plays an accordion with great skill, accompanied by one of the new popular songs of the day. "The Knight's Knot" is a simple story of a man who fears commitment more than death and accepts an assignment chasing the Legion into Burdoon, only to have an orc huntress fall for him! A ferocious giant owl's head with a bear's jowls is mounted above the hearth frozen in a roar of protest, beady black eyes gleaming with the warm light cast by a ring of sun-rods mounted along the wall, the new wizardy of 'lectrics keeping them perpetually charged. The bars are filling quickly but the lounge is closed off today, surly looking gentlemen in fine vests with rough guns on their hips keeping the area clear. Two square tables are pressed together and two men sit across from one another, as well as a single woman(Zachol, as you're acquainted with one of these fellows, it's your cue for Vanessa to already be here.) One of the men beckons for the nearest bouncer and gives him quiet instructions, then sends him off with a pleased grin. The rabble are being kept away from this meeting, but the toughs will part for those who are expected.  Clearly at home and in command, this fellow has a youthful quality missing from many these days and a pair of pointed ears that are becoming even rarer. Barnabus Thistleweave is an Elven gentleman who has become quite accustomed to Geareg's new society and reflects the face of it, a slick local businessman who wears a stylish suit and has an edge to his words and his gaze. His face softens a bit as he takes in the sights of the room for a moment before looking to his guests. "So much as I enjoy your company, I hope you have more to show me, Beltway. It's going to cost me a lot to not trust this to my own men." P'ui: Although his name gets around as a rumor, you're well aware of Thistleweave's influence with Geareg's poor. Your landlord answers to him and simply bothers you for a few gold coin every month to keep your secret lab completely off-limits to even the most curious squatters.  Dr. Richard Beltway is a Human with a haggard appearance, his eyes sunk in with two day's worth of stubble. He leans forward with his elbow on the table and one hand supporting his head as he waits with boredom written clean across his face. He leans back and begins to pat down the front of his coat. "I wouldn't trust your men with a handful of republic notes, let alone the copper in my pocket. It'll be worth the wait if we pull this off." He finds a small leather wrap of cigarettes and an ornamental lighter and lights up a smoke, then leans back in his chair and shifts about to get comfy and reposition the high-class double-barrel he wears at his side. Although most officers would have unit details and a small insignia worked in Richard has filed all of that off and sawed off the barrel. Vanessa: They say the fastest way to earn your medical doctorate was with work in the field and heard Richard has done enough to occupy three professors. He's polite but guarded around you and only told you that what he has to talk about tonight is the most important duty he's ever come across. Like many, he is a victim of the war and lost his entire family to it, originally hailing from Ostorn. OOC OOC and Chargen Thread ( () For out of character, " " for spoken word, <Language: Text> for non-Common languages, if you need to contact me I'm Doomykins in #badwrongfun on synirc, Doomykins on Steam and AIM, Doomykins@gmail.com, I've got PMs here on SA and you can even just use the OOC thread, though OOC discussion and planning in here is fine if it's brief.) (If you need more info or prompt from me just hit me up, otherwise I like it when players show initiative and go in with skill checks and stuff. For dice, a quote or link from Orokos will do or we can use a dicelog from Hamete, all I need is your e-mail for Hamete. But really I'm more ready to react to too many skill checks than none at all, so go wild!) (For the most part I want to keep results and GM rolling a bit hidden on my side, especially for combat. Enemies will usually be presented without any relevant stats(HP, AC, etc) and I encourage you to roll attacks and then damage and to simply post your intentions on successful hit or the conditions I need to roll/react/save for. I'll try to resolve things quickly and contact you if I need clarification and we can change it if this becomes too slow or bothersome, but I'd like to try to keep things a bit tenser in combat! If we end up with multiple people gunning down the same target for overkill I'll probably let them get extra standards on their next turn. Open to discussion for this, I'd mostly like to avoid giving stat blocks as soon as you see something, though I'll update stats as they become relevant with proven hits or knowledge.) Homebrew Rules: 20s often automatically succeed, though I'll give you the outcome as per usual. 1s do not automatically fail. Critical Hits from PCs are extra-lethal! This applies to significant enemies and tactically sound actions by even inferior enemies. Adventures In Which Ne'er-do-wells Of No Reputation Infiltrate The Somber Hill House. Documenting The Formation Of The Sensationalist Society And A Journey Abroad To The Elven Homeland Of Ostorn. Information NPCs PCs of the Sensationalist Society  Reece "Lefty" Fairfax, Human Rogue Hecate, Dhampir Sorceress Vanessa Carmine Staere of Draunt, Human Samurai Marisa, Naga Machinist Tinsy Toggleswitch, Gnome Wizard Thadius Nightsbane, Human RangerFormer PCs:  Thorgeisl Whose Laughter Stinks of Killing, Half-Ogre Warlock picked a fight with a band of murderous cat burglars and their Druid leader. He was sliced to ribbons and popped with a pair of meowgic missiles, falling out of flight for a fatal finish. Jeffry Wilbur, Human Vitalist enacted a daring teleport gambit to thwart a hostage situation. He was tortured to death by Ziti Quickhand. Ostarian Kaedmond, Human Bard was devoured by the Fiend Tagur'hah in the Walls of Ostorn. He was resurrected as a flying skull by Hecate and still enjoys bad jokes, singing and the company of ladies. Olimar, Dwarven Ranger was infected with virulent plant spores and ripped his own chest cavity open to seize and kill the parasite within. He was then devoured by his pet giant constrictor snake. Edelweiss "Edie" von Altman, Human Oracle has simply had enough of this reckless and dangerous adventuring and become a complacent NPC. Oreom Bonne, Ifrit Barbarian told everybody to bite his blazing rear end and left the group after fighting their way through the Ostorn Wall. P'ui, Ratfolk Rogue/Illusionist. Had the flesh flayed from her bones by the chains of the Dread Warden Bonotos. Figuero Yhong, Human Inquisitor. Vanished mysteriously after the Heist of Somber Hill House.
Doomykins fucked around with this message at 05:31 on Apr 14, 2014 |
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Jan 27, 2013 19:05
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P'ui drops a few silver into the bard's cup before drawing wrinkled, clawed hands back into her robes, slipping, underfoot through the crowded bar and finding a comfortable spot in the assembly away from most of the others. Her stance is stiff, and she eyes the others from beneath her hood with apprehension, rubbing her paws together and flicking her tail in agitation. She is a curious creature, mistakable for a small halfling at a glance, if one missed her tail, hunched over and dressed in heavy robes. She makes an occasional nervous squeak or twitch, quiet but distinct. She is clearly very uncomfortable here. Mirthless fucked around with this message at 19:44 on Jan 27, 2013 |
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Jan 27, 2013 19:40
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Thorgeisl Whose Laughter Stinks of Killing Thorgeisl enters the establishment, taking a curious look around. It looks high class, though the clientele does not. He begins to make his way through the crowd, stopping for a moment to listen to the song, and for another to glance at the Owlbear head. He continues his search for the meeting, thinking back on how the city had disappointed him so far. The call of Mandel, a new homeland had been strong recently. But Thorgeisl cannot. He has been too shamed, to changed. He is not worthy of setting foot on his new homeland. This city may have disappointed him, not lived up to all the stories. Yet perhaps this meeting will lead to a change, a chance to regain some worth. Presumably the bouncers are already aware of Thorgeisl's arrival, allowing him to pass. Soon he finds the table, and with a nod. "Greetings."
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Jan 27, 2013 21:03
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It's a bit of a dive, but Lefty wouldn't have it any other way. He gets himself a mug at the bar before elbowing in at the meeting table. "Evenin' everybody. This the table where a down-on-his-luck fella can find a spot o' coin for hard work done proper? I guess you'd be Mr... Thistleweave, right? I go by Lefty, pleased ta meetcha." Most nobs'd sooner spit in your eye than shake the hand of a working man, so it's a bit of a character test. Lefty has a seat and takes in some ambience. "Oy, a half-giant! Haven't seen onea your type in a fair minute, I tell ya. Back home most folks called your sort an 'Ugglie' but now that I see one a ya up close I gotta say I'm a bit envious o' that rugged jawline ya got. Nothin' personal meant by da name, just makin' conversation. An' a halfling too, cheers ta ya." Lefty raises his mug. "I guess we're waitin' for everybody else to get in before we get started? Or am I early?"
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Jan 27, 2013 22:14
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P'ui turns toward Lefty with a snarl, her beady red eyes swirling with rage. "Does this one look like a tiny pink ape, dwelling in dirtless holes and growing fat on pastry? Have the halflings grown tails now? Or does It not know the simple distinction between bodies of the same height?" She shuffles forward, her discomfort replaced, however briefly, with her irritation. "She is uncomfortable enough in the Masters' larder without being mistaken for a hair-footed thief. This one is descended from the noblest of rat lineages - do not place Her on the same level as such..." she curls wrinkled lips "filth."
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Jan 28, 2013 00:06
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Nessa smiles, eyes crinkling, giving Dr. Beltway a look of mild amusement. You sure know how to pick them, eh Richard? She leans forward, casually knocking the table with her gauntlet and looking at the ratkin. "An honest mistake. Might I ask where you come from, Miss...?"
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Jan 28, 2013 00:48
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P'ui recoils a bit at the sound of the gauntlet rapping, but quickly recovers. "She comes from nowhere, presently, but once the great rat clans of the Underdark. Her name is P'ui." She turns to Lefty, as an afterthought. "This one... apologizes. She is not comfortable here."
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Jan 28, 2013 01:15
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P'ui's arrival has Barnabus looking unamused and Thorgeisl ranks at a frown with a touch of sneer. Lefty's arrival prompts him to actually rise and greet the lad with a firm hand-shake. "In all honesty I expected the next one to be covered in scales and hives or something... call me Barnabus, boy." P'ui's self-assertive outburst gets a raised eyebrow, but it's still all the fascination and intrigue of seeing an actual rat in the larder. Beltway lets out a long exhale, finishing off with a small shrug to Vanessa, then sits up. He gives Thorgeisl a hard look and a curt nod. "Good to see you, Thor. I'd have been let down if you didn't show."
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Jan 28, 2013 01:21
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Nessa smiled, relaxing. "Your discomfort is perfectly understandable, Miss P'ui. Humans and the like have too many poor associations with rats, and small folk in general." She leaned back. "Far to the southeast, there's a clan of these black-skinned, and I mean pure black, winged people, called the Strix, with whom the men of the land have waged war for hundreds of years. Now there is certainly a deep grudge, a feud forged of real blood, but it first stemmed from and is perpetuated by the Strix's appearance, resembling that of winged demons. One of my most faithful companions was Strix, a knight of the highest caliber, honorable and just. A simple matter of prejudice, mistakes borne from appearance and poor judgement." Her smile faltered. "Unfortunately, he died. Hmm." Her attention switched to the half-giant, her smile returning. "So this is Thorgeisl? Good to meet you, the doctor spoke highly of you."
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Jan 28, 2013 01:58
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Thorgeisl Whose Laughter Stinks of Killing Thorgeisl gives Lefty a blank look, nods to Beltway when the man speaks. "Of course." Turning to Vanessa he responds to greeting, "Yes. Thank you. I am glad he has spoken highly of me." He looks for a seat that could contain his impressive size. "I look forward to this chance."
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Jan 28, 2013 02:14
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"Huh, a ratfolk! And here I thought the Ugg-- er, half-giants were rare enough. I'd never met one before, and missed the tail. I thought you guys were... er, furrier, anyhow. Cheers to ya anyway." Lefty raises his mug again.
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Jan 28, 2013 03:14
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Nessa's eyes slipped over to Dr. Beltway. "Although that's pretty much all he told me, how good the rest of the team ranks. Everything else, quite a mystery. Hmm."
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Jan 28, 2013 06:32
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"Thorgeisl? That name sounds awful familiar..." Lefty furrows his brow in thought and takes a swig of mediocre beer. "...you didn't write a bunch of children's stories or anything years ago, did you? You don't seem the sort, but if that's you I'm thinkin' of my mam probably read most of yer work to me when I was a chit." "An' I don't mean to be rude ignorin' ya or anything. Good ta know ya... Nessa, wasn't it?"
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Jan 28, 2013 15:49
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(Anyone coming in, you retroactively receive this knowledge as though you were here for the conversation.) A fleeting smile brightens Rich's face for a second. "You'd think folks might appreciate natural flyers a bit more in a siege." Richard snuffs out his smoke and works the remains into a small pouch that goes back into his coat. "What we discuss, it can't leave this table. You and your new companions, and I'm expecting a few more, they're all you've got for this." He draws in a heavy breath and sets both elbows on the table, rotating his wrists as his face scrunches up in thought for a moment. He starts to speak, gesturing with both hands frequently. "Do you know about the local military here? I mean, of course you've got the Dwarven tank brigade, the local law, some volunteer sheriffs backed by the city council, that sorta thing. What I'm talking about are the guys who fought in the war, and what we're doing here is going after a Colonel." Rich frowns, pinching his chin with thumb and index finger for a bit. "Now... Nick Carbon's a decent man. Led a good defense, probably served when the Words were sung, that sort of thing. But I can tell you that he's gone rotten." There's a small but heated discussion among the bouncers and two approach Barnabus, quick responses exchanged. He rises with a genuine grin and practically glides across the floor to the entrance, welcoming Miss Hecate in. All of his half-assed efforts to be the gracious host become full-assed as he leads her along the first bar, comps her a drink and leads her to the private table, introducing her with much pomp! "You're in luck, Beltway! My favorite girl will be joining this motley crew!" He returns to his seat and a bouncer politely holds Hecate's seat at the ready. Richard doesn't look amused, hands opening into a questioning palms-up gesture. "I guess things on your end went off without a hitch?"
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Jan 28, 2013 18:41
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Hecate The cloaked woman keeps herself leaning on a wall, her arms crossed as her red eyes screen through the room, examining the people inside. "Is this motley crew the ones you are hiring, Barnabus? Children, Ratfolk and strongmen? Not the ones i'd actually trust with this kind of job. Still, i believe i'll have to help them." She says while stroking a white lock of hair on the left side of her face.
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Jan 28, 2013 19:20
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P'ui listens intently, going over her knowledge of war history (from the perspective of the aggressor, anyway) in her head. History check: 1d20+10 30 What do I know about Nick Carbon?
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Jan 28, 2013 19:20
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P'ui, History: Nicolas Carbon earned a brief bit of notoriety for a daring cavalry raid from northern Draunt to Ostorn in the first half of the war. He later transferred to Geareg and seems to have struggled to achieve significant rank due to a few infamous and anonymous letters to the editors, a very brief but potent public spectacle in the Geareg's Daily Forge paper. As noted, he ended the war a Colonel with several honors. Pawing through a few thrown out boxes of the failed 900 census showed that he is a widower and a father of one. With a sidelong glance to the back of Richard's head, Barnabus IDs him as the cause of the strange arrangements, Hecate. "Not the usual reliable sorts, dear. They'll see it through all the same." He speaks a bit apologetically, then swaps to all-business without missing a beat. "Hecate, are the arrangements made?" Richard cups one hand in the other. "I don't expect you to like each other, but you should know you're all the best recommended." Doomykins fucked around with this message at 19:35 on Jan 28, 2013 |
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Jan 28, 2013 19:31
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"About the invitations for the Manor? That part is taken care of, although there might be some difficulty to make these companions look like the part. I won't make any more questions about their capabilities, but you really think that they could pass as backers for our 'honourable' Carbon?" Hecate shrugs before leaning to take a cup of wine.
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Jan 28, 2013 20:51
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P'ui whispers an incantation and in the space of a few seconds, her hunched form in tattered robes transforms to a dwarf woman in noble finery. She speaks in the local dialect of Dwarvish, but her voice remains her own, raspy and trembling: "This one... Detests conversation and verbal trickery, but She can pass as any individual, or simply pass as a fixture of the environment. Deceiving the eyes is a game for even a squirming little ratling." With a snap of her finger she returns to her normal shape and reverts to common: "She can not speak for any primate assembled, but Her patrons need not worry about P'ui's entrance being barred or presence detected."
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Jan 28, 2013 21:08
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Nessa reaches down to her feet, picking up a helmet, putting it on with an easy twirl. She sighs, then goes ramrod-straight, her relaxed posture melting away into something distinctly and perfectly military. "Of course, m'lady. Nothing less than what I already am." She relaxes again, grumbling. "As long as I don't have to actually talk to anyone. Nobody ever seems to go for my lies."
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Jan 28, 2013 22:05
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Olimar comes through the door rather abruptly, he stomps in and pauses to look around the room, he gives a bit of a gruff sound before walking over to the bar, buying 2 pitchers of ale and getting a mug then walking over, he almost slams them down on the table before pouring himself a mug and downing it all in one large drawn out gulp. He pours a second drink, finally sits, still having said nothing before turning to the elf and almost growling, "Well?" He pauses long enough to grab the Dwarvish-Police emblem off his chest and shove it into his pocket. "Colonel Carbon huh? Never heard of him but I'm not surprised he's gone off. This bellows be damned city could turn a Pelorite into a whore if you gave it enough time." He lets out a loud scoff and drains half the second mug he's poured before leaning back, realizing something and then bolting back forward saying, "Sorry, I forgot about your surface niceties. Olimar Ironstride." He inclines his head at everyone in turn, between drinks, but does not set his mug down to offer anyone his hand.
malikial fucked around with this message at 05:07 on Jan 29, 2013 |
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Jan 29, 2013 05:05
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(That's everybody genned and in-character except for Niku and DagPenge, though they should retroactively know the outline of the heist given in this post too.) Richard returns Olimar's nod. "I'd say it's simple, but I wouldn't hire so many if that were true. Carbon is courting half the city with some new project of his and what I need is details... and to shut it down. With the help of this young lady here, you should have a cover for two groups to enter that old fort." He gives Hecate the briefest bit of respect, a sort of hat-tip in spirit seeing as he isn't wearing one. "Accepting Carbon's invitation to meet him in his home won't require anything like disguises or sneaking about. Ideally whoever you send can actually hold his attention long enough for others to sneak in and case the place. Carbon has been asking up and down every veteran he can find and he's drafting all comers for a small private army, making that small fort livable again and hosting a barracks like he's still an officer. Entry will be open enough, though you'll be watched." He can't help but give P'ui and Lefty some short looks. "While your most presentable chat with him, the rest of will need to sneak in and dig up anything you can. There's probably some sewer access for a structure that big, especially with a Dwarf-made foundation." He begins to reach for his coat's inner pockets again, but catches himself, hesitates a bit and then forces his hand back down, beneath the table. Richard clears his throat. "Right now... I suspect some illegal tech under his roof. But that's why I need you, because a lot of gut feelings aren't going to work with the City Council or the Senate Below, especially if he has any of those Dwarves in his pocket." He shifts back and pushes his chair out a bit, eager to rise. "With the number I've hired and your talents, this is the sort of approach I'd recommend, though I'm counting on you to report back to me and won't be there to order you around. I'll trust your judgement, but if you botch this... well..." He lets out a deep sigh. "Look, this isn't war right now. I know a lot of knives for hire are too eager to get the job done with those knives, which is why I've been looking for this sort of talent for a long time. Talent like yours. There's a thousand gold each in it for everyone that survives if you bring back enough dirt for me to confront Carbon and things will be easier on my end if nobody ends up with a slit throat because of it!" Richard loses his composure for a second, he seems a bit uncomfortable even talking to the lot of you. He fakes a cough into a closed fist this time. "Just... in and out quietly would be for the best."
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Jan 29, 2013 20:56
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Lefty arches an eyebrow. "It's a dog's work to be sure, with one party gathering information and the other keeping a mark occupied in case things get crazy. But a thousand gold is enough to get me to sit up and wag. Let's just make sure we're gettin' in through a drainage sewer and not wadin' through Richa-- er. Bit o' rhymin' slang there, no offense meant. You know what I mean." "Assumin' here you don't intend me to be in the group up top talkin' to the nob."
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Jan 30, 2013 00:17
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Nessa idly taps at her helmet, making a resounding clunk. "Y'know, I am looking for work. If things were just a little different, I could easily be looking to join his 'army' in truth. If your fears turn out to be unfounded, still even then. I like you, Richard, but not enough to rely on a hunch." She stops, then leans forward. "So, I'm there looking for a job. If your fears are unfounded, I'd still want one, and maybe he'd still have me, after some negotiation. He knows how it is, presumably." There's a feeling she's smiling, probably, at least from her voice. "Then, when I say I'm there for a job, I can say so honestly. The rest of this is just part of researching a future employer, after a friend warned me of their suspicions. Heh." She leans back, relaxing. "Heh heh. Hmmm. Colonel Carbon... the name even sounds familiar. Should work."
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Jan 30, 2013 00:32
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"Thousand G, huh? Might be enough to make it worth my time, and it's always nice to go to parties once in a while. But i'm only here because i owe Barney here some favors. Just let me ask, is there a bonus if we get to off the good Colonel depending on whatever he's plotting?" Hecate gives a cryptic smile. "Because there's always the possibility that's needed."
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Jan 30, 2013 00:43
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Looking a bit bewildered by the slang, Richard replies to Lefty first. "Er.. that'll be up to your judgement. If you're no good at prowling, a small castle like that always has need to boys to clear the stables or to clear debris. I think you'd fit well with a uniform on a clean, Human face..." He sighs as he turns to Vanessa. "If you and your fellows don't find anything to match my hunch, it's your life. But I'd treat trust Nick's words about as much as a croc's tears." Hecate's words give him a hard, cold look, the lines on his face drawing tight together as he clenches his jaw. Barnabus cuts him off with a decisive edge to his words. "Hecate, Darling, the emphasis here is on avoiding trouble. A few flaming gunpowder kegs launched into the top floor might deal with the problem, but it might also make a martyr of the man." He rolls his eyes. "Or bring the law down. I daresay the Colonel has a bit of popularity to work with."
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Jan 30, 2013 00:55
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Olimar listens to what others say then looks sharply at the mention of an assassination. He sits forward and slams his mug down, speaking, to Hecate, in a harsh yet quiet voice, "I am a scoundrel but I'm still a Dwarf. I will never be involved in an assassination. So you understand me, young lady?" He grumpily drains his third mug of ale before pouring more and adding, "It's crazy little brats like yourself that give you human lot a bad name." He turn to Lefty, "No offense lass, I bet you're a right good one but you curiously soft creatures do like to rutting kill each other. Moradin's balls, you'd think you'd get loving tired of it. The job is simple, some of us skulk in while the others do some crowd control. We don't need to gently caress it up getting your jodhpurs all damp thinking about killing someone." He pours himself another mug of ale and leans back, growling softly to Richard, "Sorry, you surface folk cause my blood to rise. I shouldn't let you're unnatural desire to kill and rape everything you see upset me."
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Jan 30, 2013 01:24
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Thorgeisl Whose Laughter Stinks of Killing Thorgeisl nods, "yes there is no need to default to violence. The mission is primarily one of stealth."
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Jan 30, 2013 01:31
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"My, my! A sensible dwarf, that's a novelty." Hecate chuckles at Olimar's remarks, muttering a quick incantation as another cup of wine is lifted up on thin air and softly floats in direction of her left hand while her right one waggled a finger in midair. "If we aren't supposed to do so, we aren't going to do so... But i just lifted that possibility because sometimes it's better to nip the rotten bud before it spreads its roots." She takes a quick swig while giving a stern stare at the dwarf. "Do you really believe that one would start to raise an army without ulterior reasons? Who knows, with the land of Draunt starting to bully the neighboring countries... A new war might break out in this continent. And you'd see how the primal desires of the 'surface races' would be like firsthand."
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Jan 30, 2013 01:40
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 Oreom BonneIt was more or less impossible to ignore Oreom entering a room for anyone who wasn't accustomed to the sight of him. Sometimes this was to his benefit, other times not, but when meeting up with a rag-tag group of strangers to pull off grave misdeeds against the hoi polloi, well, it paid to have them find you easily. A brief staredown with the bouncers preceded his promise to Be good before he stalked into BeBe's with enough presence for at least two half-giants, maybe one standing on the other's shoulders. Fact of the matter was, the rough appearance of the man would have been enough to make most at least give him a once over, so trying to affect the swaggering presence of the well-to-do was an unnecessary embellishment. Apparently, no one had ever told him so. He kept one hand on the strap of the sack over his shoulder as he swayed to the bar, clapping patrons on the shoulder with growls of greeting and encouragement (prompting the total strangers to look at one another as soon as his back was turned, confused shrugs exchanged) along the way to first a mug, and then second a seat at the table that was clearly meant for him. Halfway through the actual explanation, naturally, though if he had actually used any expediency then he would have been right on time. Oreom acted like a man twice his size and breadth, as if he needed to be careful to fit into a chair without snapping its legs beneath his weight, but that just proved his delusions were more than a match for his rational mind. Kicking a foot up, he deliberately held up a finger and took a swig from his mug any time anyone even so much as tried to look at him, talk to him, or otherwise interact with him during the explanation of what would be going down, making it .. rather questionable as to whether or not he was actually listening. Especially since his eyes kept wandering to seemingly random patrons whenever he wasn't hiding behind his mug. Or focusing on the small silver pipe he pulled from his sack, packing the end and then sticking it between his teeth and wiggling it around as if trying to see if he could launch the tobacco out and catch it again, though it never did really fly out in the first place. Only once the gold was mentioned did he pay genuine attention to the group, and that was to do a quick headcount before he interjected his opinion on the entire plan (that he had half-entire heard). "Izzat a pie bein' cut evenly or we buyin' it by the slice at a fixed-like price?" He gave a quick look in Olimar's direction. Not that he had an unnatural desire to kill the dwarf if that meant he'd get an extra cut of the gold or anything like that. Heavens no. One, it would have been perfectly natural, and two, he wouldn't necessarily have stopped with the dwarf. Nikumatic fucked around with this message at 18:30 on Jan 30, 2013 |
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Jan 30, 2013 01:48
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Nessa glares at Hecate. Well, turns her head, and helmet, and probably glares. "Draunt has more than enough problems already, we're not going to go starting a war, and you'd think people would be a little more appreciative and generous after--" She stops herself, grumbling under her breath. "Ugh. Nevermind. Sorry, I left to get away from all that nonsense, you'd think I could learn to keep it to myself." She sighs, leaning back, and brushing at her right shoulder, a nervous tic. "Truly sorry. drat wars."
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Jan 30, 2013 02:03
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Barnabus: "A fixed reward, my good man. Success is important enough to not give you a chance to muck it up. Anyone who returns from those hired today... with a successful scoop, so to speak, gets a thousand coin. Anyone who doesn't will be missed. Perhaps. But I won't miss my coin."
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Jan 30, 2013 04:36
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P'ui approaches Richard directly, speaking in a raspy whisper. "If it changes it's mind about cutting the thread of the Carbon, this one is known for Her discretion. Rapid wasting diseases spread even among the rich, and the things She carries in Her satchel are not known commonplace among the Magistry. Do let us know." She gives a toothy grin, her yellowing, blood-stained incisors shining slimily in the dim pub light.
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Jan 30, 2013 04:45
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Lefty I like Thorgeisl's habit of announcing himself before each post so I'm probably going to start doing that tooquote:He turn to Lefty, "No offense lass,
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Jan 30, 2013 04:51
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Olimar laughs loudly at Hecate, he slaps his knee and the table and would be almost rolling about at the absurdity of her statement before he leans forward and wipes his eyes. He takes a drink of his, miraculously unspilled, ale before saying, "Listen here lass, the dwarves of Low Geareg did not even begin to fight in your little seven year war and any war your lordlings of human statue could bring upon The Host would be met with a swift execution. The dwarven army would swing through you weak surface dwellers like a scythe through a wheat field. My only shame is that I spent so much time deep in the earth killing the cursed and Moradin be damned undead that I did not get a proper chance to use my hammers top-side on some of the undead up here." He makes a face of pure distaste and hatred every time he says undead, speaking the word as if it were improper in the worst way. Olimar doesn't even seem to realize the tiny human woman Lefty is talking to him, he's already annoyed with all these other tiny human woman, and what's that, a tiny ratling woman now? Such brazen disregard for a proper beard. He lets out a grumbling growl and slurps down his brew before turning abruptly to Lefty, "What's up, young lady? Do you have a sudden desire to go hacking about people and ending the lives of your race like the others." He motions vaguely at the others around the table. "None of your race even have proper hips or barrels of ale for a chest." He lets out a loud hurrumph and scours his pockets for a cigar, that he lights off a nearby candle and begins puffing deeply, he makes an inward shudder before turning back, "No offense, young lady I bet you turn enough human heads but you're rail thin and you've got nothing worth turning a dwarven eye, an evening with ye and you'd probably be in the medic's with a broken pelvis." He tsks loudly and motions over Lefty, Hecate and Nessa, "Not a single pair of proper hips among the lot of you."
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Jan 30, 2013 06:11
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Lefty is too baffled and disgusted by the idea of dwarfsex to correct Olimar on his actual gender.
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Jan 30, 2013 07:00
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Hecate returns the glare to Nessa, giving a sorrowful expression as she says on an almost whispered voice. "I have nothing to appreciate from their people. Don't take this personally, but it's something i learned and had to deal with many years ago. Don't worry though, i will do my best to keep that for myself as well." She then rolls her eyes at Olimar's boasting, giving the dwarf a sarcastic smile. "Perhaps your underground dwellings were built far too close to graveyards if you met that many undead. It must have been quite a hassle to put them back on their coffins. However, about this last remark of yours... The laws of proportion dictate that the only way someone's pelvis would be broken by whatever fat and short wriggling thing that does your thinking, it would be if that person is half my height and with bones made of glass."
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Jan 30, 2013 12:24
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Nessa shrugs at Hecate. "Mmm, personal is different. No offense at all." She leans her head to the side, waving at Olimar. "Speaking of offense, what is this about hips? I can assure you my hips are perfectly robust. As are my legs, shoulders, arms, so on. You don't have to worry about that, mmm?"
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Jan 30, 2013 14:27
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Olimar grins at Hecate, muttering out, "Don't misunderstand me, girl, I do not boast about size. Merely fortitude. You surface races are creatures of willow and pine. Dwarves are made or iron and marble. You are frail." He then turns to Nessa and nods, lifting his cup, "You might at that, at least you understand proper armor." He leans back, stroking his beard thoughtfully as he quietly puffs his after-drinks cigar and enjoys his after-drinks drink.
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Jan 30, 2013 16:20
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| # ? Apr 27, 2024 19:14 |
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Oreom Bonne Oreom looks momentarily contemplative, the clicking of the metal end of his pipe against the polished obsidian of his teeth as he wiggles it back and forth with his tongue the metronome timing out his thoughts, before he purses his lips and gives the thing a puff, igniting tobacco smoke from the end of it. "Gotya," he asserts, having decided that a thousand gold is a thousand gold, which is far more than no gold, and thus worth working with others for a bit over. He then retreats back into silently watching the others for a time. If he can't stab any of them in the back, well, none of the rest of 'em had much impetus to stab him in the back either, but did that necessarily mean safety in their numbers? No, probably not, but this was about as secure a guarantee as one could get for "trust" in a random gathering like this. It isn't long before his contemplation gives way to ease, and his ease gives way to a jagged grin. "Iron kin be melted, marble kin be smashed up real nice. Dwarves ain't all yer cracked up ta be. Sides, how kin ya fight if all yer thinkin' 'bout is ruttin', pal?" Oreom might snort, but the expression on his face looks more proud to have someone at the table who actually seems like fun. "Plus, yer eyesight's clearly blinkered bein' up here, cuz that ain't no lady," he adds, waving his mug in Left's direction violently enough to spill his drink out of it. Well, if he had left enough of it in there to spill. Frowning, he turned it sideways and squinted one eye to peer at the bottom before muttering and shoving up from the table to get a refill. Oreom hated Geareg. Well, really, Oreom hated anyplace with drinks weaker than what Orcs traditionally brewed. May as well have been paying for water. Hell, thinkin' of water .. when he gets back, he finally addresses something other than the payment about the mission. "I'm not takin' the sewer," he states, and doesn't leave a lot of room in his tone for discussion. If he's getting his feet wet with these people, he's not going to do it literally. Nikumatic fucked around with this message at 18:30 on Jan 30, 2013 |
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Jan 30, 2013 17:09
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