Okey doke. Gimme 6 stats and the rest! Your background description should explain how you came to be working for the 2nd best wagonwright in all of red larch, old man Waelvur
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Ability scores: 121816111014
Burt Macklin doesn't play by the rules. He's a rogue agent, doing what needs to be done to get done what needs to be done. When the going gets tough, the tough call Burt Macklin, because he's the only one that's even tougher and can get going. He came to Red Larch to solve crimes and bed women, and all the women have been bedded. So now, he's only got crimes to solve to check off his checklist. Also, he saw this crippled centaur in the street. And also he works for the 2nd best wagonwright in all of Red Larch, old man Waelvur.
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Back and ready to DM and chew bubblegum. And I'm alllll outta bubblegum.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Ability scores: 13916151117
"None shall pass!" is all Burt can hear as he walks the path towards Red Larch. A quite red and mushy log, nay, a knight! lies in wait for any who assume they have what it takes to survive in Red Larch. The curtain pulls open ever so slightly as the knight rolls out upon the stage. "Ye'll not make it here Burt. Ye don't have the powder for it boy! I shall leave my post as watcher of the road to assist you in your quest to solve crimes and shall be ever vigilant to watch your back! Which uhm... if you would be so kind as to just haul me on your actual back... I've got a wee flesh wound you see. Trouble walking currently. Seems I was in some fancy pit or some such and some fruitcake, a king he thought, tried to pass... I got the best of him, but he made a cut or two here and there. I've got a quite nasty tongue though, I'll give all that approach ye a thorough tongue lashing, and throw in some harly harly hey hoos and what not. They'll back down they will."
The nubby knight continues ranting on pleading his case to Burt ad infinitum. He's hell with a dagger in his teeth and humbly submits his application of apprenticeship.
I suppose I've been carrying this campaign for so long, carrying a torso on my back should be fine. I'll pick up the (insert politically correct color/term) knight and start carrying even more.
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Back and ready to DM and chew bubblegum. And I'm alllll outta bubblegum.
(If you're playing Burt and the Centaur.... who's left for me???)
The door to the Swinging Sword opens and a young, dark haired girl emerges sweeping the dust and detritus from the previous night out into the street and all over the mangled form of the unnamed (and now abandoned) Centaur. The sight does not appear to phase her at all.
"Kay! There's another one!" she calls back into inn beyond.
"******* Derek!" someone spits back. "Ok, ok, I'll get Ilmeth to handle it."
"No need!" the young lady responds, spying a strapping form coming down the street. "I think I…" her voice tails off as she braces herself against the doorway, the better to absorb the full force of the wave of pure charisma surging towards her. Her belly swells slightly, as if in anticipation of the pregnancy that will likely follow. "…I see Burt Macklin!" From inside the inn comes a guttural and involuntary groan, like a rusted wheel forced into motion.
For the maimed horse-dude, what follows is something of a blur as he's manhandled past the crossroads and towards Waelvur's Wagonworks - an untidy shed cluttered with tools and wheels, dowels and pegs, carcasses of half made (or unmade) vehicles shrouded in dust-covered tarpaulin. Old man Waelvur greets Burt at the door, fortifying himself with a quick nip from a wineskin - though it smells more like vinegar than any fine claret.
"Owe me moren' a drink for this one Burt. Proper hard work this'll be. I know you're quite a guy generally, and the best damned assistant the 2nd best wainwright in town ever had, but you can't keep bringing me strays if'n y'ain't bringing me coin to go with 'em. Gonna have to bill you for this one."There is much measuring and tutting and hammering and planing, the air is thick with sawdust and swearing. By the end, his stump-plagued equine trunk is strapped and secured to a bespoke carriage that he can propel with his single remaining leg. In his hand is a bill for 20GP.
Chisel and hammer in hand, the wainwright wipes dust from his sweaty brow and claps Burt across the shoulder. It's then that he notices the helmeted stump that is The Black Knight. "Tymora's tits, Burt - what do you want me to do with that??"
TWENTY gold pieces???!!!?!?!?! Sounds like a quest! And I want you to do what you always do, old man, I expect the finest moderately wagonish-looking thing that this guy can propel by wiggling his ears that can be made. Except for that other guy that makes them at the other end of town. But hey, second place ain't bad.
He dumps the black knight at Waelvur's feet and looks back toward the Swinging Sword. Ya know, I think that bar girl might be pregnant.
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Back and ready to DM and chew bubblegum. And I'm alllll outta bubblegum.
"Don't know nothin' bout no quest, Burt. That's tavern talk that is. No unusual goin's on in this wagonworks, no sir, not a one. Now, let me see. Stannor! Stannor! Stupid little... STANNOR!"
A wirey-headed halfling wearing protective goggles and carrying a spokeshave waddles into the workshop as fast as his legs will carry him. "Coming boss! Ready to help!"
Waelvur picks the diminutive assistant up and moves him over to a large table, then lays a board supported on the table at one end and the halfling's head at the other. The Black Knight is hoisted onto it, drawn around with a charcoal stick. measured, weighed, and loaded back on Burt's shoulders.
"Right, that ought do it. Now piss off Burt n' get me my 20 gp or I'll have to start breaking legs, startin' with that deadbeat horse man."
"Yeah!"the halfling adds from under his board, anxious to get into Waelvur's good books and rise up the assistant pecking order. Waelvur ushers you all out of his shop and closes the door behind you.
You're at a crossroads in the middle of town, where the Long Road that runs north to Triboar crosses a couple of well trodden (if not quite so well maintained) paths leading to the Dessarin valley in the east and the westwood in the - you'll kick yourself - west. Most of the buildings in town align along the main road. The inn is a few doors up on the left. From his previous visits bedding almost every woman in the town, Burt would know there are a number of merchants in town, the old lady who runs the stoneworks is a screamer, the mistress of the Bathhouse cries a bit afterwards and expects you to listen to her poetry about trees and the clothier's wife is a lost cause.
So, what would you like to do?
(Bearing in mind that for now the Black Knight can only make suggestions....)
Let's see....we will NOT be going by the bath house, that's for sure. But, I gotta find 20 gold pieces somewhere around here. I could rent out this dude on my back as a sled, but it's not snowing unless the DM left out some important weather related information. Let's go to that pregnant lady's bar and see if there's a crime to solve/quest to perform.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Back and ready to DM and chew bubblegum. And I'm alllll outta bubblegum.
"Whad'ya want me to do wif dat? he asks!? Why who in da shelby does that bloke think he is? Come back here and say that to me face you..." Sir Knight of the most unoffensive color shouts before he leans his head back around to talk up to Burt, "I mean seriously, I'm of proper noble birth I am. Seems quite clear from my well kempt appearance wouldn't you say Burt? Bloody wrights... always going around wrighting and wwronging and such. Probably all of the sawdust. Gets up in your nose and clogs up the serius nervaxanus, at least that's what I've always heard. It's a wonder they get any thoughts out at all. Bloody wrights..." he adds as he peers up toward the Swinging Sword. "Did you see that lass up at the inn there? Seemed to have keen eyes for me she did. Think she may have caught something just as we walked by... well, as you walked by... nice legs you 'ave by the way... should you get tired of them or anything, I can help you out you know."
Inside the inn, the maid you saw earlier is stood half-asleep against her mop. As you enter she snaps to attention, then looks over at a table in the middle of the dining room where a customer is nursing a grilled sausage. She darts across the room and shoves the man hard out of his chair then begins busing the table. The man makes to complain then see's Burt coming and instead makes an effort to look casually comfortable on the ground, saluting as you pass. Then he sees the Black Knight on Burt's back and scuttles off like a crab to cower in the corner.
Behind the bar that dominates the far end of the dining hall, a stout woman in her forties quickly taps her messy up-do to make sure her hair is in place and pulls a tankard of ale. She locks eyes with Burt, dips one finger in the ale and sucks on it hard. From the window behind her comes a cry of "It's happening again!" and she is shaken from her reverie, grabbing a nearby bucket and disappearing out the back. There's a faint but acrid smell of smoke.
The door of the inn swings open suddenly as Stumpy Greg the crippled Centaur barbarian with the mary-sue stat-rolls that you forgot to make a sheet for or, you know, move makes his painstaking way inside, one hoof-pull after the next, dragging chairs out of his way with hard skrunks, his trundling wheels rumbling on the hardwood floor.
"Stumpy!" Sir knight of a color or two, but which when looked upon seems quite a lot not at all like any color at all but in fact devoid of any pigment whatsoever, which is to say, black, yells out to greet the centaur, but then mumbles to himself, Stumpy eh... yeah, sure, miss a leg or two and people start throwing nicknames around giving you a bit of "color" if you like. Seems a bit much to me ol' "Stumpy" but whatever you like, who am I to complain. Not like I'm missing any parts or anyt....
"So chap, how's the new set of rollie-pollie's there? Buy me a beer and tell me 'bout your day would ya? Perhaps a hand with the drinking and all too you know. I'm a bit tuckered you see. What with all of the being toted around and all. That lass there though," he says nodding his head toward the barmaid that just cleared the table, "I think she's got the 'ots for me she 'as. Keeps fumbling over herself whenever I'm approaching. Don't she Burt!?" he yells out. "Ol' Burt'll tell you. He sees it."
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Though not currently a member, seeking admission to the really long and important signature club. Please consider this as a current CV.
Nah, I'm still using my legs. Right now anyways. You know, it doesn't matter how busy this place is there's always a table available. It's awesome! I think she's just clumsy though, to tell you the truth, because she's always doing that when I'm around too. He sits down in a high-backed chair without bothering to unstrap the knight who we will describe as an incredibly dark coal-like color. He then whispers to the bar maid could you get me a fresh mug of that ale? I happen to know exactly where those fingers have been. He sees Stumpy Greg stump in (pun not intended) and turns toward him. I tell ya, that's the second nicest set up like that I've ever seen. Also, you owe me like 20 gold pieces. Also, do you know of any crimes that need solving?
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Back and ready to DM and chew bubblegum. And I'm alllll outta bubblegum.
"Pfrum pfrum! Pfrum pfrum pfrum pfrum pfrom!", Sir Knight of that color which absorbs all light and reflects none exclaims. Damnit!, he thinks to himself, If Stumpy brings that ale now, I'm in no position to enjoy it! He begins gnawing at the back of the chair hoping to create a whole large enough to free his head or at least get a funnel through so he can have a wee bit of bitter. He looks intently at the chair and thinks loudly at it, You're no match for me you inanimate creature of dead fibrous material! He grits his teeth and growls, "Grrr!" doing his best to intimidate the chair into just falling apart. (Intimidate Inanimate Objects with advantage assuming the chair did not see that coming!: 8)
His growl though is too muffled to have much effect on the chair. Either that or these high backed chairs are quite difficult to intimidate.
Very well then, Ruthaldamorf thinks to himself. And yes, he does in fact have a name. What sort of mum do you think would bring a chum into the world without so much as a name? Did you think it was just, Sir Knight!? Anyway... back to our story... His mum's named Ruth by the way. No sense letting you be in the dark on that one... Oh! And let's not be telling anyone about his name now, he likes to keep that one to hisself. It's not quite as intimidating as The Black Knight... So anyway, again, back to our story...
Good Sir Knight grimaces at the fact that he was unable to intimidate the chair. Right then, let's get on with it!, he thinks loudly at the clearly unphased wooden object. Then suddenly, with much might and showmanship, the knight aggressively sinks his choppers into the back of the chair with all of the force he can muster. (Bite Chair: Attack: 22 Damage: 4)
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Though not currently a member, seeking admission to the really long and important signature club. Please consider this as a current CV.
Feeling a lot of shifting around from his back, Burt asks Hey, you wouldn't mind scratching like, right below my right shoulder blade while you're at it? It itches sooo bad and it's like, RIGHT in that spot I can't reach.
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Back and ready to DM and chew bubblegum. And I'm alllll outta bubblegum.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Meh, don't mind me... only locked in a lethal battle with this fibrostatic rear accommodation device, plenty of time to pause for a bit of the itchy itch, Sir Null of light refracting properties thinks to himself. "Pfrum pfrum pfrum pfrum, pfrum. Pfrum pfrum pfrum pfrum pfrum," he says aloud so as not to seem unpleasant about it. He then pauses from his current chewing move to wiggle his head up a down a bit, as much as one can do in a space sandwiched between a sweaty crime fighters back and the deadly embrace of his solidly planked rival, to give Burt a nice little scratch right in the middle part of his back that one finds difficult to reach, especially when one is wearing a fully grown, yet somewhat dismantled knight upon ones back. "Pfrum pfrum pfrum!" he yells to let everyone know how pleased he is to have been of service.
Now back to you mate! he thinks loudly at the chair again as he focuses in; ready for his final barrage of expertly timed gnawing. You still think you can take me!? Tell you what, I'll give you one last chance, lay down now and I'll save you from the splintering horror that is to come! (Intimidate Wooden Objects: 25)
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Though not currently a member, seeking admission to the really long and important signature club. Please consider this as a current CV.
Stumpy says nothing, almost as if he's a just an empty vessel, a spectre of times past.
The maid brings a round of ales over, taking care to arrive at the far side of the table to Burt, forcing her to lean slowly over to avoid spillage while placing the tankards.
BK, the chair is no match for your choppers. You now have a great view of the inns front door.
At the mention of an itch, the maids eyes widen and her face flushes. She shuffles away briskly. Burt, I need you to roll a con save.
Okey doke. Gimme 6 stats and the rest! Your background description should explain how you came to be working for the 2nd best wagonwright in all of red larch, old man Waelvur
Strix, Shifter Shadow Monk in Lost Mines of Phandelver ¦ Sihegiall Human Soulknife Rogue in In Search of Molly McGuffin
Ability scores: 12 18 16 11 10 14
Burt Macklin doesn't play by the rules. He's a rogue agent, doing what needs to be done to get done what needs to be done. When the going gets tough, the tough call Burt Macklin, because he's the only one that's even tougher and can get going. He came to Red Larch to solve crimes and bed women, and all the women have been bedded. So now, he's only got crimes to solve to check off his checklist. Also, he saw this crippled centaur in the street. And also he works for the 2nd best wagonwright in all of Red Larch, old man Waelvur.
Back and ready to DM and chew bubblegum. And I'm alllll outta bubblegum.
https://ddb.ac/characters/14939273/iD8z7F
Back and ready to DM and chew bubblegum. And I'm alllll outta bubblegum.
Those rolls look totally legit.
Welcome aboard
https://ddb.ac/campaigns/join/5830832802958764
Strix, Shifter Shadow Monk in Lost Mines of Phandelver ¦ Sihegiall Human Soulknife Rogue in In Search of Molly McGuffin
Ability scores: 13 9 16 15 11 17
"None shall pass!" is all Burt can hear as he walks the path towards Red Larch. A quite red and mushy log, nay, a knight! lies in wait for any who assume they have what it takes to survive in Red Larch. The curtain pulls open ever so slightly as the knight rolls out upon the stage. "Ye'll not make it here Burt. Ye don't have the powder for it boy! I shall leave my post as watcher of the road to assist you in your quest to solve crimes and shall be ever vigilant to watch your back! Which uhm... if you would be so kind as to just haul me on your actual back... I've got a wee flesh wound you see. Trouble walking currently. Seems I was in some fancy pit or some such and some fruitcake, a king he thought, tried to pass... I got the best of him, but he made a cut or two here and there. I've got a quite nasty tongue though, I'll give all that approach ye a thorough tongue lashing, and throw in some harly harly hey hoos and what not. They'll back down they will."
The nubby knight continues ranting on pleading his case to Burt ad infinitum. He's hell with a dagger in his teeth and humbly submits his application of apprenticeship.
https://ddb.ac/characters/14950413/xATmUi
Though not currently a member, seeking admission to the really long and important signature club. Please consider this as a current CV.
Other personalities... Burgee , The Colorless Knight, Fiorello, RW Goodbarrel, Dred, Evrik - Out of the Abyss & Dungeon of the Mad Mage
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I suppose I've been carrying this campaign for so long, carrying a torso on my back should be fine. I'll pick up the (insert politically correct color/term) knight and start carrying even more.
Back and ready to DM and chew bubblegum. And I'm alllll outta bubblegum.
(If you're playing Burt and the Centaur.... who's left for me???)
The door to the Swinging Sword opens and a young, dark haired girl emerges sweeping the dust and detritus from the previous night out into the street and all over the mangled form of the unnamed (and now abandoned) Centaur. The sight does not appear to phase her at all.
"Kay! There's another one!" she calls back into inn beyond.
"******* Derek!" someone spits back. "Ok, ok, I'll get Ilmeth to handle it."
"No need!" the young lady responds, spying a strapping form coming down the street. "I think I…" her voice tails off as she braces herself against the doorway, the better to absorb the full force of the wave of pure charisma surging towards her. Her belly swells slightly, as if in anticipation of the pregnancy that will likely follow. "…I see Burt Macklin!" From inside the inn comes a guttural and involuntary groan, like a rusted wheel forced into motion.
For the maimed horse-dude, what follows is something of a blur as he's manhandled past the crossroads and towards Waelvur's Wagonworks - an untidy shed cluttered with tools and wheels, dowels and pegs, carcasses of half made (or unmade) vehicles shrouded in dust-covered tarpaulin. Old man Waelvur greets Burt at the door, fortifying himself with a quick nip from a wineskin - though it smells more like vinegar than any fine claret.
"Owe me moren' a drink for this one Burt. Proper hard work this'll be. I know you're quite a guy generally, and the best damned assistant the 2nd best wainwright in town ever had, but you can't keep bringing me strays if'n y'ain't bringing me coin to go with 'em. Gonna have to bill you for this one." There is much measuring and tutting and hammering and planing, the air is thick with sawdust and swearing. By the end, his stump-plagued equine trunk is strapped and secured to a bespoke carriage that he can propel with his single remaining leg. In his hand is a bill for 20GP.
Chisel and hammer in hand, the wainwright wipes dust from his sweaty brow and claps Burt across the shoulder. It's then that he notices the helmeted stump that is The Black Knight. "Tymora's tits, Burt - what do you want me to do with that??"
Strix, Shifter Shadow Monk in Lost Mines of Phandelver ¦ Sihegiall Human Soulknife Rogue in In Search of Molly McGuffin
TWENTY gold pieces???!!!?!?!?! Sounds like a quest! And I want you to do what you always do, old man, I expect the finest moderately wagonish-looking thing that this guy can propel by wiggling his ears that can be made. Except for that other guy that makes them at the other end of town. But hey, second place ain't bad.
He dumps the black knight at Waelvur's feet and looks back toward the Swinging Sword. Ya know, I think that bar girl might be pregnant.
Back and ready to DM and chew bubblegum. And I'm alllll outta bubblegum.
"Don't know nothin' bout no quest, Burt. That's tavern talk that is. No unusual goin's on in this wagonworks, no sir, not a one. Now, let me see. Stannor! Stannor! Stupid little... STANNOR!"
A wirey-headed halfling wearing protective goggles and carrying a spokeshave waddles into the workshop as fast as his legs will carry him. "Coming boss! Ready to help!"
Waelvur picks the diminutive assistant up and moves him over to a large table, then lays a board supported on the table at one end and the halfling's head at the other. The Black Knight is hoisted onto it, drawn around with a charcoal stick. measured, weighed, and loaded back on Burt's shoulders.
"Right, that ought do it. Now piss off Burt n' get me my 20 gp or I'll have to start breaking legs, startin' with that deadbeat horse man."
"Yeah!" the halfling adds from under his board, anxious to get into Waelvur's good books and rise up the assistant pecking order. Waelvur ushers you all out of his shop and closes the door behind you.
You're at a crossroads in the middle of town, where the Long Road that runs north to Triboar crosses a couple of well trodden (if not quite so well maintained) paths leading to the Dessarin valley in the east and the westwood in the - you'll kick yourself - west. Most of the buildings in town align along the main road. The inn is a few doors up on the left. From his previous visits bedding almost every woman in the town, Burt would know there are a number of merchants in town, the old lady who runs the stoneworks is a screamer, the mistress of the Bathhouse cries a bit afterwards and expects you to listen to her poetry about trees and the clothier's wife is a lost cause.
So, what would you like to do?
(Bearing in mind that for now the Black Knight can only make suggestions....)
Strix, Shifter Shadow Monk in Lost Mines of Phandelver ¦ Sihegiall Human Soulknife Rogue in In Search of Molly McGuffin
Let's see....we will NOT be going by the bath house, that's for sure. But, I gotta find 20 gold pieces somewhere around here. I could rent out this dude on my back as a sled, but it's not snowing unless the DM left out some important weather related information. Let's go to that pregnant lady's bar and see if there's a crime to solve/quest to perform.
Back and ready to DM and chew bubblegum. And I'm alllll outta bubblegum.
"Whad'ya want me to do wif dat? he asks!? Why who in da shelby does that bloke think he is? Come back here and say that to me face you..." Sir Knight of the most unoffensive color shouts before he leans his head back around to talk up to Burt, "I mean seriously, I'm of proper noble birth I am. Seems quite clear from my well kempt appearance wouldn't you say Burt? Bloody wrights... always going around wrighting and wwronging and such. Probably all of the sawdust. Gets up in your nose and clogs up the serius nervaxanus, at least that's what I've always heard. It's a wonder they get any thoughts out at all. Bloody wrights..." he adds as he peers up toward the Swinging Sword. "Did you see that lass up at the inn there? Seemed to have keen eyes for me she did. Think she may have caught something just as we walked by... well, as you walked by... nice legs you 'ave by the way... should you get tired of them or anything, I can help you out you know."
Though not currently a member, seeking admission to the really long and important signature club. Please consider this as a current CV.
Other personalities... Burgee , The Colorless Knight, Fiorello, RW Goodbarrel, Dred, Evrik - Out of the Abyss & Dungeon of the Mad Mage
Site Rules & Guidelines || Tooltips || Homebrew FAQ || Snippet Codes || Syllvva's Guides
Inside the inn, the maid you saw earlier is stood half-asleep against her mop. As you enter she snaps to attention, then looks over at a table in the middle of the dining room where a customer is nursing a grilled sausage. She darts across the room and shoves the man hard out of his chair then begins busing the table. The man makes to complain then see's Burt coming and instead makes an effort to look casually comfortable on the ground, saluting as you pass. Then he sees the Black Knight on Burt's back and scuttles off like a crab to cower in the corner.
Behind the bar that dominates the far end of the dining hall, a stout woman in her forties quickly taps her messy up-do to make sure her hair is in place and pulls a tankard of ale. She locks eyes with Burt, dips one finger in the ale and sucks on it hard. From the window behind her comes a cry of "It's happening again!" and she is shaken from her reverie, grabbing a nearby bucket and disappearing out the back. There's a faint but acrid smell of smoke.
Strix, Shifter Shadow Monk in Lost Mines of Phandelver ¦ Sihegiall Human Soulknife Rogue in In Search of Molly McGuffin
The door of the inn swings open suddenly as Stumpy Greg the crippled Centaur barbarian with the mary-sue stat-rolls that you forgot to make a sheet for or, you know, move makes his painstaking way inside, one hoof-pull after the next, dragging chairs out of his way with hard skrunks, his trundling wheels rumbling on the hardwood floor.
Strix, Shifter Shadow Monk in Lost Mines of Phandelver ¦ Sihegiall Human Soulknife Rogue in In Search of Molly McGuffin
"Stumpy!" Sir knight of a color or two, but which when looked upon seems quite a lot not at all like any color at all but in fact devoid of any pigment whatsoever, which is to say, black, yells out to greet the centaur, but then mumbles to himself, Stumpy eh... yeah, sure, miss a leg or two and people start throwing nicknames around giving you a bit of "color" if you like. Seems a bit much to me ol' "Stumpy" but whatever you like, who am I to complain. Not like I'm missing any parts or anyt....
"So chap, how's the new set of rollie-pollie's there? Buy me a beer and tell me 'bout your day would ya? Perhaps a hand with the drinking and all too you know. I'm a bit tuckered you see. What with all of the being toted around and all. That lass there though," he says nodding his head toward the barmaid that just cleared the table, "I think she's got the 'ots for me she 'as. Keeps fumbling over herself whenever I'm approaching. Don't she Burt!?" he yells out. "Ol' Burt'll tell you. He sees it."
Though not currently a member, seeking admission to the really long and important signature club. Please consider this as a current CV.
Other personalities... Burgee , The Colorless Knight, Fiorello, RW Goodbarrel, Dred, Evrik - Out of the Abyss & Dungeon of the Mad Mage
Site Rules & Guidelines || Tooltips || Homebrew FAQ || Snippet Codes || Syllvva's Guides
Nah, I'm still using my legs. Right now anyways. You know, it doesn't matter how busy this place is there's always a table available. It's awesome! I think she's just clumsy though, to tell you the truth, because she's always doing that when I'm around too. He sits down in a high-backed chair without bothering to unstrap the knight who we will describe as an incredibly dark coal-like color. He then whispers to the bar maid could you get me a fresh mug of that ale? I happen to know exactly where those fingers have been. He sees Stumpy Greg stump in (pun not intended) and turns toward him. I tell ya, that's the second nicest set up like that I've ever seen. Also, you owe me like 20 gold pieces. Also, do you know of any crimes that need solving?
Back and ready to DM and chew bubblegum. And I'm alllll outta bubblegum.
"Pfrum pfrum! Pfrum pfrum pfrum pfrum pfrom!", Sir Knight of that color which absorbs all light and reflects none exclaims. Damnit!, he thinks to himself, If Stumpy brings that ale now, I'm in no position to enjoy it! He begins gnawing at the back of the chair hoping to create a whole large enough to free his head or at least get a funnel through so he can have a wee bit of bitter. He looks intently at the chair and thinks loudly at it, You're no match for me you inanimate creature of dead fibrous material! He grits his teeth and growls, "Grrr!" doing his best to intimidate the chair into just falling apart. (Intimidate Inanimate Objects with advantage assuming the chair did not see that coming!: 8)
His growl though is too muffled to have much effect on the chair. Either that or these high backed chairs are quite difficult to intimidate.
Though not currently a member, seeking admission to the really long and important signature club. Please consider this as a current CV.
Other personalities... Burgee , The Colorless Knight, Fiorello, RW Goodbarrel, Dred, Evrik - Out of the Abyss & Dungeon of the Mad Mage
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Very well then, Ruthaldamorf thinks to himself. And yes, he does in fact have a name. What sort of mum do you think would bring a chum into the world without so much as a name? Did you think it was just, Sir Knight!? Anyway... back to our story... His mum's named Ruth by the way. No sense letting you be in the dark on that one... Oh! And let's not be telling anyone about his name now, he likes to keep that one to hisself. It's not quite as intimidating as The Black Knight... So anyway, again, back to our story...
Good Sir Knight grimaces at the fact that he was unable to intimidate the chair. Right then, let's get on with it!, he thinks loudly at the clearly unphased wooden object. Then suddenly, with much might and showmanship, the knight aggressively sinks his choppers into the back of the chair with all of the force he can muster. (Bite Chair: Attack: 22 Damage: 4)
Though not currently a member, seeking admission to the really long and important signature club. Please consider this as a current CV.
Other personalities... Burgee , The Colorless Knight, Fiorello, RW Goodbarrel, Dred, Evrik - Out of the Abyss & Dungeon of the Mad Mage
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Feeling a lot of shifting around from his back, Burt asks Hey, you wouldn't mind scratching like, right below my right shoulder blade while you're at it? It itches sooo bad and it's like, RIGHT in that spot I can't reach.
Back and ready to DM and chew bubblegum. And I'm alllll outta bubblegum.
Meh, don't mind me... only locked in a lethal battle with this fibrostatic rear accommodation device, plenty of time to pause for a bit of the itchy itch, Sir Null of light refracting properties thinks to himself. "Pfrum pfrum pfrum pfrum, pfrum. Pfrum pfrum pfrum pfrum pfrum," he says aloud so as not to seem unpleasant about it. He then pauses from his current chewing move to wiggle his head up a down a bit, as much as one can do in a space sandwiched between a sweaty crime fighters back and the deadly embrace of his solidly planked rival, to give Burt a nice little scratch right in the middle part of his back that one finds difficult to reach, especially when one is wearing a fully grown, yet somewhat dismantled knight upon ones back. "Pfrum pfrum pfrum!" he yells to let everyone know how pleased he is to have been of service.
Now back to you mate! he thinks loudly at the chair again as he focuses in; ready for his final barrage of expertly timed gnawing. You still think you can take me!? Tell you what, I'll give you one last chance, lay down now and I'll save you from the splintering horror that is to come! (Intimidate Wooden Objects: 25)
Though not currently a member, seeking admission to the really long and important signature club. Please consider this as a current CV.
Other personalities... Burgee , The Colorless Knight, Fiorello, RW Goodbarrel, Dred, Evrik - Out of the Abyss & Dungeon of the Mad Mage
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Stumpy says nothing, almost as if he's a just an empty vessel, a spectre of times past.
The maid brings a round of ales over, taking care to arrive at the far side of the table to Burt, forcing her to lean slowly over to avoid spillage while placing the tankards.
BK, the chair is no match for your choppers. You now have a great view of the inns front door.
At the mention of an itch, the maids eyes widen and her face flushes. She shuffles away briskly. Burt, I need you to roll a con save.
Strix, Shifter Shadow Monk in Lost Mines of Phandelver ¦ Sihegiall Human Soulknife Rogue in In Search of Molly McGuffin