Sappho looks down at the dwarf with her big brown eyes, smiling widely,"We're looking for some jobs!" . Sappho holds out her hand," I'm Sappho, what's your name? Do you own this place?" . She seems to talk a bit too fast out of excitement and gestures toward the other two," These are my two new friends Ally and Chazrael" .
Sappho is a half-elf with long brown hair in a ponytail and big brown eyes. She has a huge smile on her face. She wears some basic leather armor with a cape and some green accents, but she doesn't wear shoes. She carries a longbow on her back and keeps her spear leaning against the table.
Chazrael cocks an eyebrow at the dwarf. He is a stout, brown-haired halfling with a high and tight haircut with a crescent shaped moustache and dark green scale mail armor and a quiver over his shoulder.
"My name is Chazrael, you don't need to know my last name," he says with a dry tone. "My companion is right, we are here looking for work, preferably of the monster hunting kind. And when you say ale and water are the only things, how much of the ale is water?"
((If it helps, try and visualize a halfling version of Parks and Rec's Ron Swanson))
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I have an intelligence of six, I know what I'm doing.
The thug called Rawley wipes some ale off the table with a dirty rag, then twists all the nasty juices out of the the rag over the head of the halfling. "Go **** yourself, Bart."
He doesn't move from his position, but keeps listening to the conversation happening across the room. After a few sentences he glances at the other two thugs, "WHAT?! I'm bored..."
He then leans his unshaven jaw on the other hand and a well kept sheath of a long sword thumps against the leg of the table. To a careful observer it would be obvious that this man is ready for anything by anyone, especially from his own kind.
Ally shrinks inwardly from the unwanted attention of the local ruffians. She is grateful to be sitting between Sappho and Chaz. She pull her blue hooded cloak a little farther over her frizzy red hair. Her freckled face would normally be quick with a smile but she hasn't smiled much lately. The bag that she has sitting on her lap, squirms a little and a black weasel pokes it's nose out. She quickly gives him some pumpkin seeds. "Now, now Squirrel. Behave. No mischief this time." She quickly tucks Squirrel's head back inside the bag before anyone notices.
Farkur enters the Sleeping Giant, closes the door behind him, turns toward the room, and shakes himself like a small rodent. He's a squat gnome of average height, but a little on the heavy side — but that might be due to his traveling clothes, pack, and the shield strapped to his back. He has a mane of long black hair that spills over his shoulders. His ears and nose are big and rosey. His blue eyes are small, and they dart around the room as he repositions his spear — which is twice his height and used as a kind of walking stick — beside him. Near the tip is tied with a leather thong a sprig of mistletoe.
He takes in the only two occupied tables and waddles up to the table at which the half-elf, halfling and gnome (which he doesn't know is a gnome because of her cloak) are seated. He looks up at Sappho and Chazrael and gives a polite smile. "Is this seat taken?" he asks. When (I assume) Sappho quickly invites the gnome to join them, Farkur takes some time to climb into the chair. It takes some time due to two reasons: one, everything he's wearing, and two, it's evident fairly quickly that the gnome's not very coordinated.
When Farkur is finally in his seat with his spear leaning against the table, he sighs contentedly and looks around at the other three table occupants and the dwarf, who is giving Farkur an even more incredulous look than she was giving the others. "Thank you. It's good to be back to civilization. I've been traveling alone through the mountains for ... a little over a tenday, I guess. I'm Farkur Boondiggles, and I'm on my way to Neverwinter." He looks about expectantly, having missed the previous introductions.
Rawley is amused. "Yes, a competing gang. We are going to go into the field of competitive pipe stuffing. It will be called..., " and he turns across the room to eye the new people once more. He stands, walks over there and leans his butt against one of the nearby tables. "Hi guys," pointedly ignoring some of the possibly female members of this weird troupe, "we are going to make up a rival gang. What shall we call ourselves?"
Chazrael nods at Farkur and shrugs at Rawley. "You can call ourselves whatever you want. From the sounds of it, we might be fighting a scarecrow, which sounds simple enough. All we need to do is just attack it from its perch and problem solved."
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I have an intelligence of six, I know what I'm doing.
"Well Met, Farkur. I'm Ally. You have been traveling for sometime. What news of the road do you bring?" She lifts her hood so that she can make an introduction to Farkur. She smiles a bit to have another Gnome at the table.
She wrinkles her nose a bit when the ruffian comes to their table. She doesn't quite know what to make of his banter. "I certainly don't want to be part of a gang. That's trouble I say. Gangs are trouble."
He looks from face to face, "Nobody? Really? Ok then." He takes a seat, throws one leg over the other and nods a "go ahead then" towards everyone else.
Farkur looks a little confused and a little wary of what just happened between the four ruffians. When Rawley sits down at their table, he swallows before displaying a worried smile. "I like pumpkins," the gnome says helpfully. He leans forward a little, attempting to speak to Ally beneath the invisible, yet clearly present weird vibe. He speaks to her in gnomish, his voice sounding hoarse.
Ally:
"I've just come over the mountains to the east," he repeats. "You and your friends are here looking for work?"
Rawley says, "Sybil? Sure. You all passed her house coming into Phandalin, the very first house on the north side. Lives with her sister, one of the first re-settlers if I've understood things correctly."
He becomes thoughtful for a moment, "She once waved at me passing by before she saw the rest of the gang come up the road behind me."
"It is such a treat to speak the mother tongue. We have just come from Neverwinter, we thought we would have better luck father out."
She takes some roasted pumpkin seeds from a pouch and shares them with Farkur. "Squirrel likes them too." And she gives a couple to squirrel, the weasel, that pokes his head out again from the bag on her lap.
Chazrael shrugs his shoulders. "That Bart doesn't look so tough. He's probably someone who picks on the weak." He looks back at the dwarf before taking a swig of ale. "So your friend needs help of some kind?"
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I have an intelligence of six, I know what I'm doing.
Sappho looks at the weasel in awe. "They're amazing! You said their name is squirrel? That's so cute! Can I hold it?" Sappho looks up at Ally with a big smile on her face.
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Sappho looks down at the dwarf with her big brown eyes, smiling widely,"We're looking for some jobs!" . Sappho holds out her hand," I'm Sappho, what's your name? Do you own this place?" . She seems to talk a bit too fast out of excitement and gestures toward the other two," These are my two new friends Ally and Chazrael" .
Sappho is a half-elf with long brown hair in a ponytail and big brown eyes. She has a huge smile on her face. She wears some basic leather armor with a cape and some green accents, but she doesn't wear shoes. She carries a longbow on her back and keeps her spear leaning against the table.
Chazrael cocks an eyebrow at the dwarf. He is a stout, brown-haired halfling with a high and tight haircut with a crescent shaped moustache and dark green scale mail armor and a quiver over his shoulder.
"My name is Chazrael, you don't need to know my last name," he says with a dry tone. "My companion is right, we are here looking for work, preferably of the monster hunting kind. And when you say ale and water are the only things, how much of the ale is water?"
((If it helps, try and visualize a halfling version of Parks and Rec's Ron Swanson))
I have an intelligence of six, I know what I'm doing.
The thug called Rawley wipes some ale off the table with a dirty rag, then twists all the nasty juices out of the the rag over the head of the halfling. "Go **** yourself, Bart."
He doesn't move from his position, but keeps listening to the conversation happening across the room. After a few sentences he glances at the other two thugs, "WHAT?! I'm bored..."
He then leans his unshaven jaw on the other hand and a well kept sheath of a long sword thumps against the leg of the table. To a careful observer it would be obvious that this man is ready for anything by anyone, especially from his own kind.
Ally shrinks inwardly from the unwanted attention of the local ruffians. She is grateful to be sitting between Sappho and Chaz. She pull her blue hooded cloak a little farther over her frizzy red hair. Her freckled face would normally be quick with a smile but she hasn't smiled much lately. The bag that she has sitting on her lap, squirms a little and a black weasel pokes it's nose out. She quickly gives him some pumpkin seeds. "Now, now Squirrel. Behave. No mischief this time." She quickly tucks Squirrel's head back inside the bag before anyone notices.
Farkur enters the Sleeping Giant, closes the door behind him, turns toward the room, and shakes himself like a small rodent. He's a squat gnome of average height, but a little on the heavy side — but that might be due to his traveling clothes, pack, and the shield strapped to his back. He has a mane of long black hair that spills over his shoulders. His ears and nose are big and rosey. His blue eyes are small, and they dart around the room as he repositions his spear — which is twice his height and used as a kind of walking stick — beside him. Near the tip is tied with a leather thong a sprig of mistletoe.
He takes in the only two occupied tables and waddles up to the table at which the half-elf, halfling and gnome (which he doesn't know is a gnome because of her cloak) are seated. He looks up at Sappho and Chazrael and gives a polite smile. "Is this seat taken?" he asks. When (I assume) Sappho quickly invites the gnome to join them, Farkur takes some time to climb into the chair. It takes some time due to two reasons: one, everything he's wearing, and two, it's evident fairly quickly that the gnome's not very coordinated.
When Farkur is finally in his seat with his spear leaning against the table, he sighs contentedly and looks around at the other three table occupants and the dwarf, who is giving Farkur an even more incredulous look than she was giving the others. "Thank you. It's good to be back to civilization. I've been traveling alone through the mountains for ... a little over a tenday, I guess. I'm Farkur Boondiggles, and I'm on my way to Neverwinter." He looks about expectantly, having missed the previous introductions.
Rawley snorts to himself after experiencing the spectacle of Boondiggles, "I'm not sure if I'm THAT bored though.. we'll see."
Rawley is amused. "Yes, a competing gang. We are going to go into the field of competitive pipe stuffing. It will be called..., " and he turns across the room to eye the new people once more. He stands, walks over there and leans his butt against one of the nearby tables. "Hi guys," pointedly ignoring some of the possibly female members of this weird troupe, "we are going to make up a rival gang. What shall we call ourselves?"
Chazrael nods at Farkur and shrugs at Rawley. "You can call ourselves whatever you want. From the sounds of it, we might be fighting a scarecrow, which sounds simple enough. All we need to do is just attack it from its perch and problem solved."
I have an intelligence of six, I know what I'm doing.
Ally
"Well Met, Farkur. I'm Ally. You have been traveling for sometime. What news of the road do you bring?" She lifts her hood so that she can make an introduction to Farkur. She smiles a bit to have another Gnome at the table.
She wrinkles her nose a bit when the ruffian comes to their table. She doesn't quite know what to make of his banter. "I certainly don't want to be part of a gang. That's trouble I say. Gangs are trouble."
Rawley exclaims, "The Pumpkins! I love it!"
He looks from face to face, "Nobody? Really? Ok then." He takes a seat, throws one leg over the other and nods a "go ahead then" towards everyone else.
Ally
"Rawley, is this Sybil someone you know? Is she looking to hire some help?"
Ally tries to steer the conversation away from gangs and also to learn if this new person is going to be helpful.
Farkur looks a little confused and a little wary of what just happened between the four ruffians. When Rawley sits down at their table, he swallows before displaying a worried smile. "I like pumpkins," the gnome says helpfully. He leans forward a little, attempting to speak to Ally beneath the invisible, yet clearly present weird vibe. He speaks to her in gnomish, his voice sounding hoarse.
Ally:
"I've just come over the mountains to the east," he repeats. "You and your friends are here looking for work?"
Rawley says, "Sybil? Sure. You all passed her house coming into Phandalin, the very first house on the north side. Lives with her sister, one of the first re-settlers if I've understood things correctly."
He becomes thoughtful for a moment, "She once waved at me passing by before she saw the rest of the gang come up the road behind me."
Ally
to Farkur
"It is such a treat to speak the mother tongue. We have just come from Neverwinter, we thought we would have better luck father out."
She takes some roasted pumpkin seeds from a pouch and shares them with Farkur. "Squirrel likes them too." And she gives a couple to squirrel, the weasel, that pokes his head out again from the bag on her lap.
Chazrael shrugs his shoulders. "That Bart doesn't look so tough. He's probably someone who picks on the weak." He looks back at the dwarf before taking a swig of ale. "So your friend needs help of some kind?"
I have an intelligence of six, I know what I'm doing.
Sappho looks at the weasel in awe. "They're amazing! You said their name is squirrel? That's so cute! Can I hold it?" Sappho looks up at Ally with a big smile on her face.