|
Post by DM-Boneyard Ben on Feb 10, 2018 1:49:16 GMT -5
Noisey lot, aren't they? Orellow thinks to himself. He then gets himself an idea and stands up from his seat, slamming his hands on the table. Catching the attention of everyone in the process. "So!" He booms and looks to Ingrid. "You wish to know of my home?" He smiles at her and looks about the room. "The Floral Forest. Home of the lover's lily whose petals could make even a skeletons pelvis burn with passion? The place where there is a flower so sweet the devils of the nine hells would swim the depths of a holy ocean just to catch a whiff? That enchanted woods where vine exists that could hold a giant's strength with ease? The place called the Flower God's Garden?" He smiles looking about the room and shrugs. "No, I don't imagine you'd care to hear about such a place" A few patrons speak up saying they would if she doesn't and Orellow chuckles. Moving a little further out as he weaves stories great and tall of his home. Of the brave rangers and druids who battle hordes of orcs and greedy men for control of the land. Of trees that walk and talk like everyone here. Of tentacled mosnters that crawl up from the earth to steal a flower so rich in nutrients it would make the thickest man outwit a dragon with knowledge. He tweaks the story a bit. Its mainly to entertain Ingrid and also to give the other ladies a little privacy. He'll pay special attention to the perverts of the group who take a interest in the girls over him and make something suddenly happen in the story or call on them to say if they'd stand by and watch such a horrid sight. All of his stories he tells are ones from his childhood as well as some of his own experiences and knowledge sprinkled in.
Entertainment (untrained) 18+1=19. Orellow is one entertaining mofo, apparently XD
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Feb 10, 2018 9:17:02 GMT -5
When you slam your hands on the table, Hassel and Gyllen jump startled out of their argument. Ingrid makes a fist and rears back as if to punch you. The dulcimer falls quiet after the musician drops one of his tiny hammers. The room is still with all eyes are on you as you ask the room if they wish to know about your home. The only movement is the Dwarven bouncer moving to a spot closer to you in case you become a problem. As you speak, movement returns to the room. Gyllen and Hassel resume their talk, but their eyes stay on you this time. They like everyone else are listening to your tale. Ingrid lowers her fist, and goes back to holding her tankard. She even takes a drink or two during your tale. Once you get started in earnest, the dulcimer begins to add musical accents, adding drama and enhancing your oration. When all is said and done, the crowd has slipped you 6sp and 4gp.
When you return to the table Gyllen is sitting with one of her legs draped over one of Hassel's legs, and they're holding hands. One of Hassel's arms is wrapped across Gyllen's shoulders, her fingertips resting on the swell of Gyllen's breast. Whatever they were discussing seems to have come to a positive conclusion. The perverts have consumed more ale, and have moved their conversation to the waitress with the massive cleavage. You've seen her take care of herself before, and failing that the bouncer will handle any issues. When you take your seat again, Ingrid asks you a few questions about the Floral Forest. Her questions are almost all about the beasts, and monsters or parts of your story featuring combat.
After a time Hassel pushes Gyllen's leg off of her own, and then keeps pushing her until she gets up out of the booth. She looks you dead in the eye, and says, "We're going to bed." She uses a hand on the small of Gyllen's back to get her moving toward the stairs, then she winks at you and adds, "You coming?" Ingrid sighs, and finishes off her drink in two quick swallows. She flicks her fingers in a shoeing motion, giving you permission to leave if that is your desire.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Boneyard Ben on Feb 20, 2018 9:52:26 GMT -5
Clapping his hands together in one smooth motion of finality Orellow concludes the tale of how is Mother a Father met. "The Hag would not kidnap another child after this day. The rain that seemed never ending, cleared to a bright beautiful sky and the Rouge embraced the Ranger, that embrace, and the kiss that followed would go on to produce the man stands before you today" He says with a final bow before stepping himself down. A uproar of cheers and the occasional call to hear another tale would normally drive Orellow onward but that is enough for tonight. He is no bard after all. Taking his seat he nods his head and regards the patrons, clapping him on the back before politely sending them on their way. He turns himself to Ingrid. "Will that suffice?" He asks with a chuckle.
"I kid you not!" Orellow laughs. "A rabbit made of stone" He booms a laughs and stifles it with his ale. Whilst taking a sip he eyes the two women getting up to leave. When they ask him to join he looks at Ingrid over his mug and notes her gesture. He then sets down his mug and gives the girls his best smile. "As delightful as that sounds, I would spend the remainder of my night with Miss Torgrimson, but have no doubt I would enjoy a night of bedding with you two another night" He chuckles and offers his best bow as they depart (He himself being a bit tipsy thanks to a good many drinks). He then turns back to Ingrid. "Now, then where were we?" He asks with a grin.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Mar 1, 2018 7:44:53 GMT -5
For the first time since you met these women, all three seem surprised. Most of all Ingrid, her mouth hangs open with complete shock. Gyllen unsteadily leans in close, bracing herself with a hand placed very high on your thigh, she whispers, "Another time then." before smiling a sultry smile, and giving you a peck on the cheek. Hassel grabs Gyllen's belt with one hand, "Your loss Master Avnec" Then she slaps Gyllen's ass with her other hand, the smack sounding loud enough to make those that heard it wince. With her face so close to yours, you can't help but watch Gyllen's reactions. First surprise at being hit, then angry bared teeth, then a mischievous smile with a matching twinkle in her eye. Lastly, a look of innocence so convincing that it almost makes you doubt that you saw anything else. You get the feeling that Hassel is in charge out here, but upstairs will be something else entirely.
Once the other two make it upstairs, followed by cat calls from the perverts at the next table. Ingrid looks at you, like really looks at you. More than just simply observing, almost as if she's seeing you for the first time. "Why didn't you go with them? I've not met many that would pass up an opportunity to spend the night with not one, but two beautiful women." She smiles then, the softness of the expression revealing a subtle beauty hidden behind her normally dour expressions.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Boneyard Ben on Mar 6, 2018 10:46:26 GMT -5
A smile touches Orellow's lips as he looks to the woman. "Well, I suppose that means I am not one of many" He laughs. "As to why, well, nothing strange about spending a night with one beautiful woman instead of two, besides, I enjoy your company" He smiles again, but this one seems to be from the heart not like his other smiles that are jovial and fun loving. No this one carries a more sincere and calming quality. The smile disappears after he takes another swig of ale, returning to his more happy quality. "Now, I do believe I was telling you about a rabbit made of stone, strangest thing was not the eyes which were literal emeralds, no. That is reserved for the fact that it moved and acted like a real rabbit, down to hopping on my father's rabbit fur boots in an attempt to mate with them" He stifles another laugh with his drink. "I chased it for weeks, trying to pluck its eyes out and father just roared with laughter. Was not so funny when bandits trapped it and me, that is where things got serious.." He says seriously despite the fact that his smile never leaves his face.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Mar 19, 2018 21:06:21 GMT -5
Ingrid listens to your stories, laughing and exclaiming where one would expect. She also often cheers for excellent combat maneuvers, and solid strategy, or a fanciful description of a beast she has never heard about before. Whenever your stories come to a good calm moment, she interjects with insightful questions about the beasts. She shares stories of her own, but simply with little flair for the oration. In her stories she is never the hero, the lantern light always falls to her companions even when without her actions all would have been lost.
After a few more drinks, and another hour of stories she leans forward and grabs you by the back of the neck. Her grips is incredible, you've been bitten by creatures with less grip strength than this woman. She pulls you forward across the table so you're almost face to face with her and says, "I grow weary of sitting at this table, nightcap?" Her eyes drift to the stairs that her companions ventured up not so long ago. Just before you answer her grip tightens, in a louder voice she adds, "To talk." She raises an eyebrow to question if you understand her meaning. Assuming you do, she releases her grip on the back of your neck, and awaits your answer.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Boneyard Ben on Mar 24, 2018 0:45:42 GMT -5
Orellow regales the woman with many stories of his boyhood, laughing and carrying on in his usual jovial. Jumping through the trees to catch rabid boars, hit and run tactics against bandit armies come to claim the woods for their own. Even the time he and his father raided an Orc Stronghold and faced down Gagnark The Grim. Though the Orc was long since past his prime and kept his lot in line mostly through the sheer force of his presence. It was at this old Orc's defeat that Orellow learned Orcish. The old Orc, pleased with the youths ruthlessness and savagery taught the boy Orcish. It began a strange relationship. The old Orc would attempt to kill Orellow during their lessons but the spry boy was always too quick for any attempt to even graze him. Orellow admits to having a soft spot for the Orc seeing him as a pseudo elder, even if he was technically a prisoner. Then the day came that Orellow had learned all he could and parted with the Orc in the only proper fashion; A duel to the death. A bittersweet victory but the old Orc would have it no other way.
Orellow is started at suddenly being grabbed and winces a bit when her grip tightens. He smiles at her knowingly and is released from her grip and whilst he rubs his neck and laughs he says; "I could not possibly think of a more delightful way to spend my night". From somewhere in his conciseness Orellow could feel an eye roll and disapproving huff.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Mar 29, 2018 20:11:06 GMT -5
You both exchange stories late into the night, yours tend toward the daring and extravagant, while hers are more humble. At some point you boast about a scar, and a friendly competition begins. Each of you taking turns showing off another scar until you both realize at once that you’re out of scars, and you’re both nearly naked. Clothing tossed haphazardly aside in a bid to get to the next puckered wound.
The rest of the evening is considerably more physical, *wink* and you wake in the morning content, but exhausted. You’re also really stiff, and not in the good way. Your body aches like you just wrestled a bear. That’s about when hot breath bathes across the back of your neck. Ingrid is currently spooned up behind you, her well muscled arm draped loosely over you.
(Having barely slept, you gain no benefit from your long rest. Additionally, your current hit points are half your maximum. One hell of a night though, Nat 20!)
|
|
|
Post by DM-Boneyard Ben on Apr 23, 2018 21:59:50 GMT -5
Orellow slips himself out from Ingrid's arm by putting his feet on the bed posts and pulling his body down the bed. Once at the foot of the bed, he makes himself erect with a series of pops and cracks through his body that make him cringe and seem to ring as loud as a church bell in the dead quiet. He looks back to Ingrid when he feels the mattress shift and almost sighs in relief to see her eyes still closed as she drags his pillow into her bust. He looks over her appreciatively and somewhat jealously at the pillow, he himself wanting to be in those soft valleys but he's never been one to break his word. He's gotta see a man about a city. He places his feet on the floor and and stands, a series of pops crawling up his body as he does. He manages to stifle a groan and peeks back at the sleeping beauty. Luckily still out, happily nuzzling the pillow with a child-like smile of happiness that seems out of place as he knows her but becomes her just the same. A strange contrast but a delightful one. Like seeing a vicious bear caring for her cubs. Orellow scoops up his gear and limps out the door in as stealthily a manner as his aches can manage. Before leaving though, he leaves Ingrid a note telling her that he had a wonderful night and would look forward to many more if she feels so inclined but Orellow has a business meeting with a man at another Inn in order to learn more of the city's under belly and its denizens as to avoid getting his throat cut.
On his way out of the Inn Orellow grabs a quick bite for himself and informs one of the servers to have breakfast brought up to Ingrid in an hour or so with a flower if they can so manage. With that done he takes himself out into the city. His limp lessening as he adjusts his pace. He makes his way to the docks and to The Carousing Sailor to meet his shadowy benefactor. Or maybe to add another name to his blade's hilt.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on May 7, 2018 18:09:50 GMT -5
The newest server, a slip of a girl with an attitude larger than the building itself shoots you a wink, and nods, "I think I can manage a flower Master Avnec." She turns on her heel, and her long nearly white blonde hair almost brushes your nose as it fans out behind her. Her hair smells of lilac, and reminds you of the Floral Forest. Tramping down a bit of homesickness, you go about your business.
The Carousing Sailor is the exact opposite of The Wayfarer's Rest. Where the rest is clean and tidy, the floor of this place is covered in filthy sawdust. The rest smells of mouth watering food mixed with pipe smoke, while this place smells of stale ale, and blood. There is the unmistakable scent of piss as a not so subtle undertone. From the doorway you see men drinking heavily while playing various gambling games. No less than three tables feature arm wrestling, and there are currently two full blow fights. Mountains of meat in the form of bouncers stand nearby the fights, making sure things don't too murderous, but don't seem to have any interest in breaking up the fights themselves. While you watch a new fight breaks out, and people gather to place bets on the outcome. The servers make there way through the crowds, skillfully dodging groping hands to deliver what passes for ale in this place.
Your attention is drawn to the eye of the storm, two booths at the back of the room that seem completely unaffected by the chaos around them. At one, three men chat in the hooded cloaks that the Shadow Hand are said to wear. The other has a large well dressed man in a white nobles outfit, a large ruby on his left pinky finger. He is flanked by two gorgeous women, who are in turn flanked by two more well dressed men. You notice four men in suits standing causally enough, but can't help but notice their eyes constantly scanning the room for threats, they must be the reason for the relative calm near the booths. After a moment one of the cloaked figures holds up his hand, and gestures for you to approach. You recognize him from your rooftop conversation earlier.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Boneyard Ben on May 8, 2018 18:09:17 GMT -5
Places like this are foreign even to Orellow's colorful background. Spending half his life among the Green and the other half among high society, he's better adjusted to cloak and dagger than rough and tumble. Very much a peacock in a boar pit he sticks out like a sore thumb with his grin and puffed out chest. His clean green and brown clothes standing out as he weaves his way through the crowds to the table and offers his greetings. "Good Morning! How fares you all on this lovey day?" He booms in his usual happy tone. Unknown to everyone else in the bar Orellow shoulder is heavy with the weight of a young girl with orange yellow hair in a one piece dress. She leans over him staring at the large ruby with deep seeded greed in her eyes. "Look at that rock! Its huge! Hey! Challenge him to a duel for it or something!" She says beaming at the jewel. "Oh, but that'll give you away as a greedy no good nick, huh?" She says, answering herself as she frowns at Orellow. "Why can't you be like-" She starts and then looks over the large man. "On second thought, if you ever get that fat, I will posses you forever, I mean look at him, he's so insecure he needs to be flanked by hussies to even show up in a dive like this" Avarice says with a giggle. "Still find out who he is so we can cut that ring off his fat little finger" She cackles and erupts like smoke. "I am known as Hunter" Orellow says with a bow. "Former enforcer for the dear departed Lady Green of the Somerset Court and aspiring Cliftonite" He informs the tables with a solemn bow of his head. Lady Green was his Mother's moniker and bringing it up brings a bit of sadness to him.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on May 9, 2018 17:49:36 GMT -5
Your size keeps casual harassment to a minimum, but there had to be one guttersnipe that needs to be taught a lesson in manners. As you cross the floor, a fairly sizable fellow blocks your path, "Who's this then?" He shouts to be heard over the cacophony of this place. "Shouldn't you be out 'umping one a those lizards I keep hearing about in the swamp?" He leans in close, inhaling through his nose, "You sure smell like you belong in the swamp." He smiles around at anyone that meets his gaze, "This place ain't for ya, beat it."
|
|
|
Post by DM-Boneyard Ben on May 9, 2018 18:27:55 GMT -5
Orellow smiles at the man. "You caught me!" He laughs joyously, clapping the man on the shoulder. "I am certainly out of my element here, I'd be better off in the woods fighting Orcs, out at sea cutting wyverns or, yes, in the swamp thumping lizardfolk, but your certainly more out of your element, my good sir" Orellow says, his smile turning dark, as he pulls out the Wyvern stinger for all to see. "You should know your place on the food chain" He says his voice dropping to a whisper he taps the man on the cheek with the stinger and walks by him.
Intimidation: 18+1=19
(Really don't want to fight at half HP and tired from last nights activities XD)
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on May 9, 2018 18:45:05 GMT -5
(Awww, but tavern brawls are a staple of fantasy RPGs.)
The room falls quiet when you pull out the severed tail from a wyvern, well not exactly quiet, and not exactly the whole room. More like a bubble of stillness forms around where you and this man stand as people wait to see what happens. You see a couple people whisper to each other and pull out coins in anticipation. As to the man's reaction, he gulmps audibly in the relative quiet, and says, "Eh, um, quite right... Sir. I was only joking you see, ah. Yep." You brush past him, and the normal sounds of the room resume in your wake.
You reach the actually still portion of the room, and one of the guards steps between you and the booths at the back. He flicks back his coat to expose his blade hilts, and says, "These seats are taken friend." in a dead pan monotone. The man from the rooftop calls out, "It's okay Sal, he's here to see me." To which Sal nods, and steps aside, resuming his constant vigil on the room.
Once you arrive at the table, the other two hooded men nod, and move off into the crowd. "You look like you've either had a really good night, or a really awful night. I'm not sure which." The man gestures to the spot across from himself. "I wasn't sure you would actually come."
|
|
|
Post by DM-Boneyard Ben on May 12, 2018 15:44:10 GMT -5
Orellow smiles at the hooded man and rolls back his shoulders resulting in a series of pops and cracks. "My mother taught me that a gentleman never kisses and tells, so I shall leave that to imagination." He says and motions if he can take a seat, if hes allowed he does, if not he nods and stays standing. "As for my coming, well, I am a man of my word. A man who can't keep his word is just a beast without claws and fangs" He says quoting both his mother and father.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on May 12, 2018 19:17:32 GMT -5
"Lesson one, in this city not telling is often telling in and of itself." He leans toward you slightly, "You see, you answered my question there anyway. Answered it, and provided me a bunch of extra information that I could use if I was so inclined. For example, I now know quite a bit more about you, and a little about who your lady, er, partner is. Armed with that information, and your description I could ask around and figure out their identity." The man gestures to the chair, offering his blessing for you to sit. When you speak of liars being clawless beasts the man throws back his head with laughter, the motion knocking his hood off. He doesn't bother replacing the hood, and says, "If that's the case, this city is boiling over with beasts." once he finishes laughing. "If you're to survive here, you might need to become a beast yourself. I can see that you have a different sort of beast in you, but in a place like this that's not always enough." He gestures across the room, and a short time later an absolute beauty delivers you both an ale. This ale actually looks good, not like the swill they're serving to the rest of the crowd. You also notice that nobody even tries to grope this woman, even though she is by far the most attractive person in the building. (We're talking Cha 20 here.)
|
|
|
Post by DM-Boneyard Ben on May 14, 2018 16:32:52 GMT -5
"Perfect!" Avarice smiles. "He thinks you're buffoon" She giggles. Orellow can't help smiling himself. His mother taught him to read people and be guarded in high society. She often referred to it like a game, reading things in others that even they themselves didn't realize. A shift of eyes, a rubbing of hands, even a tapping of the foot, all of it could tell you things. He could put it akin to hunting or fighting. Watching an opponents eyes to see where they will strike next. Noticing a Mountain lion's shift in feet to see where it will pounce. But, his true talent laid in baiting. Acting like he had a limp to trick an opponent into going for it only to find his sword into their head. Shifting left to make a boar go right. Acting the fool to win sympathy or have others drop their guard. A useful skill and his best asset because he partially was a fool, he liked talking with people and getting to know them. He found them all interesting and learning their vices made him feel less alone in the world, less like the serial killer his Mistress pinned him for. He was greedy, sure but that was small potatoes for some of the fools he's met. Most even lacking awareness of their vice or any kind of conscience. A fat man who enjoyed beating women never seen anything wrong with it, he just thought Orellow wanted Gold. To which Orellow did but the man honestly thought it was perfectly normal to enjoy a woman's scream in pain, he had no self awareness when that rapier pierced his heart. Not at all. It was fascinating. Like this guy. His vice is Pride, like Orellow's former handler. He likes being in control, the corner of this dive bar being in control, the fat man, the gorgeous women, it was all a flex of muscles to show how out of depth Orellow was and it was also a bait. You can have something like this. This whole situation screamed that. Trust me and this can be yours. Orellow would have this and more. But not inna dive bar, he'd have himself a gilded tree home in the middle of nowhere with mountains of gold and beauties at his disposal. His connection with the Prince would help with that and seeing him back on the Throne would all but guarantee it but the Prince needs these guild types gone and the best way to kill a beast like a guild was from the Inside.
"I suppose, I will need lessons in that department" Orellow laughs. "Truth is I am a fair fighter but I am a poor liar" He says honestly. Watching the beauty walk off he whistles softly mostly to himself, being outwardly impressed. "What else do you need to have?" He asks, trying not to seem to eager for the knowledge. "You seem to have this entire thing figured out, while I know not enough to stay alive" He chuckles. "If you had not been so kind, I imagine your compatriots could've killed me off before I sunk my blade into you" He leans over the table, nudging the man. "Let me guess there was another blade I did not even see at my back" He says like some kind of great inside joke.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on May 14, 2018 17:27:40 GMT -5
The man smiles, "Lying isn't so difficult, the trick is sticking as much as you can to the truth. The truth is much easier to remember and keep straight. If you sprinkle just enough truth into a lie, it seems all the more believable." The woman smiles back over her shoulder when you whistle, a sultry smile that makes your heart beat faster. You would swear she added a bit more pop to her swaying hips after that. Not that she needed to, she had quite a lot of pop before that. The man leans across the table, and speaks as quietly as the crowd will allow, "I wouldn't be fishing in that pond my friend. That is the sister of our friend there." He gestures to the man in the other booth, his gesture fully hidden by his body so there is no chance anyone from the other booth can see it. "I grew up here, and have made more mistakes than I can count. Mistakes that don't get you killed are the best way to learn." He leans back again sipping gingerly from his ale, seeming to enjoy the flavour, rather than avoiding drinking too much. When you sip your own ale, you begin to understand why. The ale served to the booths here is absolutely fantastic, perhaps even the best you have ever had in your life.
When you ask about hidden blades, he responds, "Lesson two, in this town there is always a hidden blade."
|
|
|
Post by DM-Boneyard Ben on May 19, 2018 17:19:22 GMT -5
Avarice howls with laughter. "I wonder how he'd feel if you looked him dead in the eye and told him your hair was a god-awful blend of orange and yellow" She managed between laughs before falling over from Orellow's shoulder and floating just above the floor. For the woman Orellow leans in toward his hooded bar mate as he openly watches every pop and sway with a grin. After she is gone from sight Orellow looks where the man points but can't make passed the hooded man's head after leaning in. "Lucky you" Avarice says with a huff. Seems at some point she moved up to the table beside him. "Looks like fat boy didn't see you checking out his harlot sister" She says with a flat look for Orellow. Impolite, he chides her mentally which earns him another huff. "It would seem somethings do not change no matter where you are" Orellow says and smiles. "If it does not end you, learn from it" Another quote from his Mother and Father. After sipping from his ale he looks at his mug with shock and takes another sip and savors it. "So, am I to assume our exchange will be a talk of mistakes from one beast to another?" He looks at the man as he asks. A serious look for once.
Orellow raises his finger and then slowly lowers it down to the man's wrist, his fingernail tapping on a hidden scabbard holding a dagger. "I am aware of that fact" He says with a dark smile. A man he sailed with did a similar trick but his sleeves were always rolled up, not difficult to figure out how a man in a hooded coat would do it. He takes another sip and looks out at the crowd. Hoping to catch another glimpse of the beauty. "But, the bit about the lovely lady was handy" He says softly with a smile. This wouldn't come off as gloating from Orellow it would be more akin to proving that he's not a complete fool and doesn't want or appreciate anyone holding his hand. He realizes he knows very little about Clifton but this is meant to be an exchange. Two experts in their fields teaching each other about their specialties. He's not wanting to be this man's wide-eyed pupil nor will he play the part of one.
(Nat 20 Insight for detecting a hidden blade by watching how the man's hands stayed Orellow determined that at least one hidden blade was in his sleeve.)
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on May 21, 2018 10:25:16 GMT -5
The man nods, "Sage advice that, learn from that that does not end you." He nods again, "I like that. I'm going to use that." He leans back in his chair, and takes another sip of his ale. "I don't know my way around the swamps and beasts around this town, but I do know inside the walls. I say we do an exchange. You teach me to survive outside the walls, and I'll teach you to survive within them." He looks around before leaning in and talking a bit quieter, "The way things are coming to a boil here, I might need that knowledge soon enough. To get things started, I have a job. It's not legal, now is your only chance to back out."
|
|
|
Post by DM-Boneyard Ben on May 21, 2018 16:39:41 GMT -5
Orellow smiles. "You are welcome to it, my family has always been a source for much sage advice" He laughs jovially, the thoughts of his family bringing a certain tightness to his eyes. After taking a long swig of his drink he continues. "Then, it is agreed, knowledge of the Green for knowledge of Clifton" He says with a chuckle. Orellow puts up his hands after he mentions a job. "If it is required that it be done today I fear I have plans, something of mine was taken and I intend to get it back after a quick stop, otherwise, I would not mind getting my hands dirty every now and again" He says, his volume dropping lower. "A good man knows how to keep his hands clean, a great man knows how to clean them" He says with a wink.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on May 21, 2018 17:57:04 GMT -5
(On my phone I missed the second paragraph of your previous post somehow, oops. Don't mind the tiny retcon.)
Your finger-nail taps the man's hidden blade, and he smiles. "Observant, good. It pays to be observant." You feel a pressure near where your rapiers sit nestled in your bedroll. Glancing down you see the tip of the man's boot touching where you know one of the hilts rest. He removes his foot as soon as you become aware of it, nothing is exposed, and nothing taken. He smiles again, "As I said, it pays to be observant." He trails off for a moment, then adds, "and well armed."
The beauty is easily found, the silent stares of men all over the room follow her memorizing gait. Currently she's leaning on the bar, her best asset straining against the fabric of her very short skirt. The two of you make eye contact, and she smiles. That smile is more inviting then that of the ladies that invited you back to theirs earlier this evening. She goes so far as to wink, which is enough to send shivers through a half dozen men that all think it was meant for them.
The man smiles again, he seems to do that a lot, "Then it's settled. When you're back in town find me here, and I'll set things in motion for us both." The two hooded men from before, or perhaps new ones slip out of the crowd and stand far enough away to be seen, but hear nothing. Your smiling friend nods, "Alas, duty calls." He flips his hood back into place and stands, as he does so he spills coins on the table to cover the drinks. "Any idea how long you will be?"
|
|
|
Post by DM-Boneyard Ben on May 23, 2018 10:22:04 GMT -5
(Its cool)
Orellow feels himself wanting to move toward the woman and take her up on the invitation and anything else that smile implies but he feels a twinge of pain shoot through his various limbs. It'd probably be better not to push his luck. Of course maybe a girl like that who gets chased all the time wants someone to chase? "Fat Chance" Avarice laughs. Harlots like her just want to be chased, its so obvious shes just after attention, I mean look at what she's wear-". Orellow clears his throat aloud and Avarice falls quiet with a pout.
"A few days, perhaps" Orellow shrugs. Its hard to say how long it'll take to find the Wyvern that took his Javelin. "Happy hunting" Orellow says and waves the man off. After a few moments more sat there and enjoying his drink Orellow gets to his feet and makes his way into the city. Headed for the Bahamut temple. Who better to know about killing Wyverns than a religion of dragon worshipers.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on May 24, 2018 15:24:25 GMT -5
|
|