The professor grins “Bonnie has a magic all her own doesn’t she?” He winks at the “harmless” Aran.
He looks towards Creach “you sound like my father” He smiles. “He was an adventurer and I always wanted to be like him, but he wouldn’t allow it. He used to say, stick to the books kid. Adventures in books are way more fun than sleeping on the cold ground at freezing your ass all night.”
"Yeah...Freezing your butt off under the guard of the stars, knowing the trees have you secure in their branches... yeah reading is a much better endeavor." Creach says, nodding until the Prof. (your character is the Prof. now) turns his back and starts slowly shaking his head.
"I don't like the wilderness. I mean. It's beautiful. But I like the wilderness from a distance. With it's animals... right on top of my plate!" There's a short chuckle. The kind of chuckle that says he knows his joke was lame. This said between scarfing down food. Every word is said after a harsh gobble or a nom.
"It doesn't have the same flow that all cities have. The flow that I can recognize and ride. Take advantage of." Aran takes a bite out of his chicken leg fiercely.
"But there is a flow! The flow of life itself! You adapt and survive to get what you need or you die. You're too slow-" *SLAM * "Dead. You're not strong enough-" *SLAM* "Dead. Not smart enough-" *tap* "Dead. Your every choice either works the system or leaves you dead." Creach says, enunciating each point by slamming his hand on the table, ending by tapping his finger on the table.
Sitting in the corner observing you all is a half elf in chain mail, shield slung over his back, with a fist in a gauntlet on the back of it, has a battle axe at his side. He has a cloak on to protect him from the rain, at this point in the conversation he throws it back revealing his face. He's sitting at the bar quietly and his mug looks like it has been filled several times. It has a big O carved into it, rests in a special spot on the shelf. He gives a nod to Durnan, and a subtle look that indicates it is time for a refill.
"Adventures eh? Do you think you have the stuff to go adventuring? Interesting conversation you are having, couldn't help but overhearing." He turns himself in the stool to face you. "Name's Olaerys. I would be interested to hear your stories and what led you here. Professor, would love to know more of what you have learned, your observations about our fine city. I can give you a little different opinion perhaps. I used to be part of the city watch, learned what I needed to know on the streets." He looks down, says "Don't run with that crew anymore. Perhaps a subject for another time. But I'm always interested to learn from (nods to Professor) and work with other people with new and useful talents. My talent is bashing things. Cleaning up this town. I am a follower of Helm and I'd be glad to tell you all about him if you are interested sometime."
"Well Olaerys, I'm Creach Adair, hunter of stuck up a-holes who think they're better than others because they have shiny armour." (OOC: Are swear words allowed? I know some DMs are stricter about that than others. Also, it's not that you don't look cool, I just don't like your character for some reason. I don't even have a reason I just don't like them)
"Story?" He snorts. "There is no story. I come from the streets of Neverwinter. Fell asleep in the back of a cart. And when I open up, I'm here!" There's a gesture all around as the half-elf in a commoner's clothes spins around, taking everything in. "it really is the City of Splendors." Says the young man as Aran uses one of his hands to pluck a coin purse from a passing man's belt. He of course, does this while trying to keep everyone's eyes on his face that's talking, and not his hands that are picking.
"And the food. Magnefisent!" Butchering that word in it's pronunciation, it seems like he truly butchered it rather than purposefully.
Sleight of Hand: 25 (I can't roll, I turned it sideways. So I'll use the character sheet. You can see the rolls in the log)
Olaerys turns to Creach and says "Well, Creach my boy, opinions are like ********, everyone has one. And I guess you are entitled to yours." He gives you a big grin that says "Go for it!". "But I'll tell you I don't think I'm better than anyone else. I've seen the worst of people. I'm just struggling like everybody else."
"Tell me Creach, you hunt people, in fancy armor. Who exactly are you hunting? Do you eat them?" He looks at you with genuine interest in your response.
"I can't tell if you just insulted me or complimented me and honestly I'm offended either way" (I mean like, seriously, are you doing that intentionally or...?)
"Uuuh. When'd he say he hunts people." Says Aran, suddenly tense for a moment or two. That passes and he's back to his lackadaisical, joyful yet piggish mannerisms. Clapping Creach on the back.
"I didn't hear that at all. Nor do I hear insults in this follower of Helm's words. Maybe it's because I'm not looking?" He doesn't look at what he managed to snag- if indeed he managed to snag anything at all (and without being noticed).
"I don't tend to make a habit of murder no. Not unless it's an Orc. Half-Orcs are all right but pure Orcs are horrible. I suppose you might be right Aran, perhaps I am being paranoid. I apologize sir, my cousin Tayra would scold me right about now for any insult towards you." Creach apologizes, genuinely sorry for any insult.
"Hmm, he just said to me that he hunts "stuck up a-holes" who think they are better than others because they wear shiny armor" and looked pointedly at me." Olaerys looks down at his dirty, partially rusted in spots chain mail. "I don't think it's shiny, but anyway. Get the strong vibe from the hunter here that he doesn't like me since he seemed to be indicating me." Olaerys reaches down and just lightly puts his hand on his battle axe. "I don't think that's what you are indicating, right?" Again he gives you a big grin, you can see that one of his teeth have been knocked out of his jaw on the right, he has several scars on his chin, likely from his prior days of fighting and serving on the city guard.
"I'm in the Order of the Gauntlet now. Before this fellow jumped in, I was politely indicating interest in your prior adventures. I'm even more interested now. Have any tales to tell hunter? How did you end up in the fair city of Waterdeep, and what are you looking for now? How about we bury the hatchet with a nice drink, what do you say?"
"Apology accepted! I think we just got off on the wrong foot there. Durnan! Let's have a drink all round, one for my new friends here! Professor, I really want to hear more from you too. Very interesting! This place is wonderful, you can meet such interesting people in here." Olaerys relaxes, pounds his beer on the table, and gives out a hearty laugh.
"While I don't understand why you would bury a hatchet, that sounds like a good idea. Let me buy you a drink, to apologize yeah? I think I got off on the wrong foot."
"Oh. Uh. Creach, my wild friend. Bury the hatchet is a figure of speech. I think." There's a beat and he frowns for a moment, reconsidering. "Yeah, yeah. By bury the hatchet he means to make peace." Aran's head bobs a little at that, at a rapid pace.
"If I didn't know better Aran, I'd say you were nervous." Creach says, eyeing you, clearly trying to make you itch more by putting more attention on you.
"I think I know what he means Olaerys, some people, my .. employer for instance, wasn't an example of the cream of society. He had every opportunity to help, do good for the people and looked it on the surface, but deep down he was something else. Nothing the city guard was going to take care of, he was a noble. Someone for one of perhaps his character to deal with."Caix interjects quickly seeing an awkward turn in the conversation, folding the cloth in her hands and reaching for one of the drinks brought by Bonnie.
The professor grins “Bonnie has a magic all her own doesn’t she?” He winks at the “harmless” Aran.
He looks towards Creach “you sound like my father” He smiles. “He was an adventurer and I always wanted to be like him, but he wouldn’t allow it. He used to say, stick to the books kid. Adventures in books are way more fun than sleeping on the cold ground at freezing your ass all night.”
Noob
"Yeah...Freezing your butt off under the guard of the stars, knowing the trees have you secure in their branches... yeah reading is a much better endeavor."
Creach says, nodding until the Prof. (your character is the Prof. now) turns his back and starts slowly shaking his head.
Farewell.
"I don't like the wilderness. I mean. It's beautiful. But I like the wilderness from a distance. With it's animals... right on top of my plate!" There's a short chuckle. The kind of chuckle that says he knows his joke was lame. This said between scarfing down food. Every word is said after a harsh gobble or a nom.
"It doesn't have the same flow that all cities have. The flow that I can recognize and ride. Take advantage of." Aran takes a bite out of his chicken leg fiercely.
"But there is a flow! The flow of life itself! You adapt and survive to get what you need or you die. You're too slow-" *SLAM * "Dead. You're not strong enough-" *SLAM* "Dead. Not smart enough-" *tap* "Dead. Your every choice either works the system or leaves you dead."
Creach says, enunciating each point by slamming his hand on the table, ending by tapping his finger on the table.
Farewell.
Sitting in the corner observing you all is a half elf in chain mail, shield slung over his back, with a fist in a gauntlet on the back of it, has a battle axe at his side. He has a cloak on to protect him from the rain, at this point in the conversation he throws it back revealing his face. He's sitting at the bar quietly and his mug looks like it has been filled several times. It has a big O carved into it, rests in a special spot on the shelf. He gives a nod to Durnan, and a subtle look that indicates it is time for a refill.
"Adventures eh? Do you think you have the stuff to go adventuring? Interesting conversation you are having, couldn't help but overhearing." He turns himself in the stool to face you. "Name's Olaerys. I would be interested to hear your stories and what led you here. Professor, would love to know more of what you have learned, your observations about our fine city. I can give you a little different opinion perhaps. I used to be part of the city watch, learned what I needed to know on the streets." He looks down, says "Don't run with that crew anymore. Perhaps a subject for another time. But I'm always interested to learn from (nods to Professor) and work with other people with new and useful talents. My talent is bashing things. Cleaning up this town. I am a follower of Helm and I'd be glad to tell you all about him if you are interested sometime."
"Well Olaerys, I'm Creach Adair, hunter of stuck up a-holes who think they're better than others because they have shiny armour." (OOC: Are swear words allowed? I know some DMs are stricter about that than others. Also, it's not that you don't look cool, I just don't like your character for some reason. I don't even have a reason I just don't like them)
Farewell.
"Story?" He snorts. "There is no story. I come from the streets of Neverwinter. Fell asleep in the back of a cart. And when I open up, I'm here!" There's a gesture all around as the half-elf in a commoner's clothes spins around, taking everything in. "it really is the City of Splendors." Says the young man as Aran uses one of his hands to pluck a coin purse from a passing man's belt. He of course, does this while trying to keep everyone's eyes on his face that's talking, and not his hands that are picking.
"And the food. Magnefisent!" Butchering that word in it's pronunciation, it seems like he truly butchered it rather than purposefully.
Sleight of Hand: 25 (I can't roll, I turned it sideways. So I'll use the character sheet. You can see the rolls in the log)
Olaerys turns to Creach and says "Well, Creach my boy, opinions are like ********, everyone has one. And I guess you are entitled to yours." He gives you a big grin that says "Go for it!". "But I'll tell you I don't think I'm better than anyone else. I've seen the worst of people. I'm just struggling like everybody else."
"Tell me Creach, you hunt people, in fancy armor. Who exactly are you hunting? Do you eat them?" He looks at you with genuine interest in your response.
"I can't tell if you just insulted me or complimented me and honestly I'm offended either way" (I mean like, seriously, are you doing that intentionally or...?)
Farewell.
"Uuuh. When'd he say he hunts people." Says Aran, suddenly tense for a moment or two. That passes and he's back to his lackadaisical, joyful yet piggish mannerisms. Clapping Creach on the back.
"I didn't hear that at all. Nor do I hear insults in this follower of Helm's words. Maybe it's because I'm not looking?" He doesn't look at what he managed to snag- if indeed he managed to snag anything at all (and without being noticed).
"I don't tend to make a habit of murder no. Not unless it's an Orc. Half-Orcs are all right but pure Orcs are horrible. I suppose you might be right Aran, perhaps I am being paranoid. I apologize sir, my cousin Tayra would scold me right about now for any insult towards you." Creach apologizes, genuinely sorry for any insult.
Farewell.
"Hmm, he just said to me that he hunts "stuck up a-holes" who think they are better than others because they wear shiny armor" and looked pointedly at me." Olaerys looks down at his dirty, partially rusted in spots chain mail. "I don't think it's shiny, but anyway. Get the strong vibe from the hunter here that he doesn't like me since he seemed to be indicating me." Olaerys reaches down and just lightly puts his hand on his battle axe. "I don't think that's what you are indicating, right?" Again he gives you a big grin, you can see that one of his teeth have been knocked out of his jaw on the right, he has several scars on his chin, likely from his prior days of fighting and serving on the city guard.
"I'm in the Order of the Gauntlet now. Before this fellow jumped in, I was politely indicating interest in your prior adventures. I'm even more interested now. Have any tales to tell hunter? How did you end up in the fair city of Waterdeep, and what are you looking for now? How about we bury the hatchet with a nice drink, what do you say?"
"Apology accepted! I think we just got off on the wrong foot there. Durnan! Let's have a drink all round, one for my new friends here! Professor, I really want to hear more from you too. Very interesting! This place is wonderful, you can meet such interesting people in here." Olaerys relaxes, pounds his beer on the table, and gives out a hearty laugh.
"While I don't understand why you would bury a hatchet, that sounds like a good idea. Let me buy you a drink, to apologize yeah? I think I got off on the wrong foot."
Farewell.
"Oh. Uh. Creach, my wild friend. Bury the hatchet is a figure of speech. I think." There's a beat and he frowns for a moment, reconsidering. "Yeah, yeah. By bury the hatchet he means to make peace." Aran's head bobs a little at that, at a rapid pace.
"If I didn't know better Aran, I'd say you were nervous." Creach says, eyeing you, clearly trying to make you itch more by putting more attention on you.
Farewell.
"I think I know what he means Olaerys, some people, my .. employer for instance, wasn't an example of the cream of society. He had every opportunity to help, do good for the people and looked it on the surface, but deep down he was something else. Nothing the city guard was going to take care of, he was a noble. Someone for one of perhaps his character to deal with." Caix interjects quickly seeing an awkward turn in the conversation, folding the cloth in her hands and reaching for one of the drinks brought by Bonnie.
Looking for a game
"You keep saying employer. I do not think it means what you think it means."
Farewell.
"Nervous? Bout what? You're just imagining things, buddy!"
Deception: 24
"And back to the flow of things. Yes. The wilderness has a flow. But not the flow that I'm familiar with." His head bobs repeatedly yet again.
"huh, well, coulda fooled me (and did)"
Farewell.