(Gah, holy smokes, three pages of chat to read. That's what I get for working the morning/afternoon shift, sorry.)
Crispy, being pushed aside verbally and physically as people she had no idea about came into the building, ready to sign up. So lets see what we have here, she says to herself. Johann was the first person I met in here. He introduced himself to me. He seems pleasant. Then we have Akaas, an old tiny halfling monk, and Chetin the cleric. BOTH of whom completely ignored me, seeing as I was standing in line ahead of them. Oh look at this! Another halfling. Kithre, she bellowed out. I'll give her one thing, she can play the Hells out of that lute. And a half-orc, sweet, this one speaks in full sentences. The paladin who was late. And a dragoborn! What is this, employment for a circus? He didn't even take his gauntlet off to put on the ring. What the Hells did I get myself into? That elven rogue's talking to himself. Awesome.
She continues to observe the applicants, every moment going by and the urge to get up and leave increasing. Something inside her decides to bury that feeling, and remind herself she's here to make a fresh start, make some new friends, and try her best to bury her attitude and past.
She walks up to an attendant, and speaks her name, registering. "Crispy."
Crispy sees the enormous Dragonborn attempt to make conversation, and holds up her finger until she's done registering. "Crispy." She says to the attendant, waiting. "Come on. I'm on the list, lets go."
"Hells, that greatsword is taller than I am." She says, turning to him, watching him remove it. "I'm Crispy. Do I shake your hand, or something..? I've never met a Dragon man before.." She shakes off the notion of trying to figure it out. "So. What's your story?"
"My story? Nuthin' much, ma'am. Used to work on my Pa's farm, but figgered I could help more people by joinin' the army. After I finished my time, they asked me to leave so I come here lookin' for work helpin' people, ma'am."
"Not anybody, ma'am. Only thems that deserves it. My Pa tol' me that haulin' bales was the only thing I was good fer. But turns out swingin' a sword is the other thing I'm good at, ma'am."
"Yes, but.." She began, for a moment wondering if to bother asking the next question, "It's just that..I don't know Dragonborn that talk like you do."
She takes a deep breath and tries her best redneck impersonation:
"Well, I recon I'm'ma hankerin' fer gettin' all gussied up for a granny-slappin good time for this here induction, and i'll be happy as a puppy with two peckers, yer dern tootin'!"
"Oh, you mean like I must fight for the honor of my bloodline and the glory of all Dragonborn to restore our lost Empireand all that, ma'am? Well, all I can say is some folks is farmers too, ma'am."
Jaylin walked over to the "prayer group" and introduces himself in celestial "hello. my name is Jaylin nice to meet you" the Paladin extended his hand forward in a hand shake jester
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Marvarax andSora (Dragonborn) The retired fighter and WIP scholar - Glory
Brythel(Dwarf), The dwarf with a gun - survival at sea
Jaylin(Human), Paladin of Lathander's Ancient ways - The Seven Saints (Azura Claw)
Urselles(Goblin), Cleric of Eldath- The Wizard's challenge
Viclas Tyrin(Half Elf), Student of the Elven arts- Indrafatmoko's Defiance in Phlan
Sebastian was in a foul mood. He had seen his hated rival - or at least an elf who looked like the idiot- laughing it up with some friends. And when Sebastian was angry, he had a habit of taking it out on others- those who had nothing to do with it. In this case, the Seven Saints' attendant, who found himself barraged with several short, snapped sentences and a, signet ring brusquely slammed down onto his desk: "Here for induction. Where? Up the lift?"
Entering the meeting room, Sebastian wrinkles his nose in distaste as a group of goblins scurry past the door for what seems the fifth time in as many minutes. Far, far too many people here. With this much competition for treasure, I'm never going to get a significant leg up on that knife-eared oaf.
He drops into an empty chair, pointedly ignoring the animated conversation between a human woman and a dragonborn beside him. His golden amulet clinks against his chest, conspicious against his plain black vest.By the gods, what are they planning on telling us here? If they make me sit next to a bunch of goblins for four hours just to tell me "Follow our rules", I'm going to blow up the building. And their rules. And the goblins. Especially the goblins.
Chetin bows his head to the paladin. "Greetings Jaylin, it is nice to meet you as well. I am Chetin Humb, cleric of Bahamut." He responds in celestial, "Although can we speak in common? I'd wish not to hide anything from our future comrades." He motions to the Brazzak and Crispy.
"No worries, Justice. And I ain't no 'sir', Justice. I never made it past private."
He gives a small nod at each "Justice", because that's how he was taught.
DCI: 3319125026
(Gah, holy smokes, three pages of chat to read. That's what I get for working the morning/afternoon shift, sorry.)
Crispy, being pushed aside verbally and physically as people she had no idea about came into the building, ready to sign up. So lets see what we have here, she says to herself. Johann was the first person I met in here. He introduced himself to me. He seems pleasant. Then we have Akaas, an old tiny halfling monk, and Chetin the cleric. BOTH of whom completely ignored me, seeing as I was standing in line ahead of them. Oh look at this! Another halfling. Kithre, she bellowed out. I'll give her one thing, she can play the Hells out of that lute. And a half-orc, sweet, this one speaks in full sentences. The paladin who was late. And a dragoborn! What is this, employment for a circus? He didn't even take his gauntlet off to put on the ring. What the Hells did I get myself into? That elven rogue's talking to himself. Awesome.
She continues to observe the applicants, every moment going by and the urge to get up and leave increasing. Something inside her decides to bury that feeling, and remind herself she's here to make a fresh start, make some new friends, and try her best to bury her attitude and past.
She walks up to an attendant, and speaks her name, registering. "Crispy."
Seeing Crispy sitting by herself, Brazzak approaches and starts to sit next to her.
At the last second, he stands back up with a "Whoops." and takes his seven foot Greatsword off his back and then sits.
"Hullo. I'm Brazzak."
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Crispy sees the enormous Dragonborn attempt to make conversation, and holds up her finger until she's done registering. "Crispy." She says to the attendant, waiting. "Come on. I'm on the list, lets go."
"Hells, that greatsword is taller than I am." She says, turning to him, watching him remove it. "I'm Crispy. Do I shake your hand, or something..? I've never met a Dragon man before.." She shakes off the notion of trying to figure it out. "So. What's your story?"
"Sure, we can shake hands." (very strong grip)
"My story? Nuthin' much, ma'am. Used to work on my Pa's farm, but figgered I could help more people by joinin' the army. After I finished my time, they asked me to leave so I come here lookin' for work helpin' people, ma'am."
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"Achh. Quite the grip." She winces, taking her hand back and flexing her fingers.
Crispy nods as she listens. Occasionally looking at him, and his sword. "Can you kill anybody with that..thing?" Crispy points to his greatsword.
"Not anybody, ma'am. Only thems that deserves it. My Pa tol' me that haulin' bales was the only thing I was good fer. But turns out swingin' a sword is the other thing I'm good at, ma'am."
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Crispy noded slowly in comprehension. "You talk like a..farmer. Are your parents Dragonborn, too?"
"Yes'm. What else would they be? The Ginths been farmers at least as far back as my Pa's Pa's Pa, ma'am."
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"Yes, but.." She began, for a moment wondering if to bother asking the next question, "It's just that..I don't know Dragonborn that talk like you do."
She takes a deep breath and tries her best redneck impersonation:
"Well, I recon I'm'ma hankerin' fer gettin' all gussied up for a granny-slappin good time for this here induction, and i'll be happy as a puppy with two peckers, yer dern tootin'!"
She waits for a moment. "Did I get that right?"
"Oh, you mean like I must fight for the honor of my bloodline and the glory of all Dragonborn to restore our lost Empire and all that, ma'am? Well, all I can say is some folks is farmers too, ma'am."
DCI: 3319125026
Jaylin walked over to the "prayer group" and introduces himself in celestial "hello. my name is Jaylin nice to meet you" the Paladin extended his hand forward in a hand shake jester
Marvarax and Sora (Dragonborn) The retired fighter and WIP scholar - Glory
Brythel(Dwarf), The dwarf with a gun - survival at sea
Jaylin(Human), Paladin of Lathander's Ancient ways - The Seven Saints (Azura Claw)
Urselles(Goblin), Cleric of Eldath- The Wizard's challenge
Viclas Tyrin(Half Elf), Student of the Elven arts- Indrafatmoko's Defiance in Phlan
Sebastian was in a foul mood. He had seen his hated rival - or at least an elf who looked like the idiot- laughing it up with some friends. And when Sebastian was angry, he had a habit of taking it out on others- those who had nothing to do with it. In this case, the Seven Saints' attendant, who found himself barraged with several short, snapped sentences and a, signet ring brusquely slammed down onto his desk: "Here for induction. Where? Up the lift?"
Entering the meeting room, Sebastian wrinkles his nose in distaste as a group of goblins scurry past the door for what seems the fifth time in as many minutes. Far, far too many people here. With this much competition for treasure, I'm never going to get a significant leg up on that knife-eared oaf.
He drops into an empty chair, pointedly ignoring the animated conversation between a human woman and a dragonborn beside him. His golden amulet clinks against his chest, conspicious against his plain black vest. By the gods, what are they planning on telling us here? If they make me sit next to a bunch of goblins for four hours just to tell me "Follow our rules", I'm going to blow up the building. And their rules. And the goblins. Especially the goblins.
Crispy snorts in muffled laughter, amused by Brazzak, his background, an the conversation. "Yeah.." She admits. "I guess so."
She gives him a hard pat on the back, letting him know he's OK in her book. We'll see if he can swing that sword, she smiled and rolled her eyes.
Brazzak notices the man who has sat down beside him.
"Sorry, mister. 'Scuse the sword. I'll just move it outta your way. Hullo, by the way. I'm Brazzak and this is Crispy."
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Crispy looks at the man for a moment who sat down next to them, and then back to Brazzak. "He looks cranky."
"Yeah, they really should put out some snacks or somethin' if they're gonna make us wait this long."
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Crispy contemplates the idea, making a face, nodding in approval. "I could eat." She admits. "You don't eat people, do you?"
( On the phone )
Chetin bows his head to the paladin. "Greetings Jaylin, it is nice to meet you as well. I am Chetin Humb, cleric of Bahamut." He responds in celestial, "Although can we speak in common? I'd wish not to hide anything from our future comrades." He motions to the Brazzak and Crispy.
"Only thems that deserve it..."
Brazzak tries a sinister laugh, but you can tell he's faking.
"Just kidding, ma'am. A rare steak is my preference."
He then let's out a long laugh that ends in a snort and a hiccup, which is punctuated by a small arc of electricity escaping his mouth.
DCI: 3319125026