"I have had... no stroke. This... is how I am. I do... not inquire about any condition... you may have."
The man sticks out his his abnormally large, gloved hand, proffering it to the gnome.
"Geralt Demnor. Do not worry. It's not... contagious. And I'll make sure to... spare your hand."
As they come up to the thugs and the woman, Geralt pauses, snapping his hand away and standing to his full, strangely quite imposing, height. His hand reaches up and he unclasps his cloak, allowing it to fall to the ground in a heap, and revealing that which lies beneath. Much of his body is still covered by a long sleeved shirt and a pair of pants, and underneath those some white cloth wrappings, but his bald head and a few other pieces of flesh, all the same as what has been seen already, are revealed. Additionally, the large, makeshift greataxe on his back and twin handaxes of similar make on his belt are revealed. He reaches up with a gloved hand and brandishes the axe with remarkable ease, allowing it to drag across the floor, raising sparks, as he approaches.
"Please... step away from the... man."
He smiles, a horrible thing showing strange, metallic teeth glittering in the sun.
"It would be best... for your health."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
(We'll add this in to before we meet the four people)
"Ah, I meant no offense. I just might be able to help if that's the case. I've been told that I'm a bit... short. I meant no offense." He cautiously offers his hand "a pleasure meeting you!"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Salazar - Human Warlock of the Fiend (1) - The Lucarcian Incident
Shepherd Torrent Brallern Water Genasi Druid (1) - Ekuepool
Celeste Belle - Air Genasi Mutant Blood Hunter (1) - Old West
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
J'zargo looks at Geralt with a look of both mild amusement and fascination as the tabaxi steps in between both groups. His mouth smiles, but his eyes darting between the hands of the thugs and the woman, looking for the first signs of a weapon being drawn. "Madam, we have gotten off on the wrong foot, no? My friends and myself are certainly new here, how do you say, fresh off the boat? A long journey often is meaning a fraying of the tempers, but it would be a shame for blood to be spilled our first evening here, yes?"
He eyes the beaten man for a second, before continuing. "I myself have delivered such 'messages' from my boss to business associates on occasion, and I am thinking that this one has fully understood now, yes? Perhaps we are going our separate ways, we are buying your 'associate' a drink, and you are free to enjoy your pleasant evening, yes?"
The woman contemplates J'zargo's words and nods. "Lay off, boys." She commands the thugs before offering her hand to J'zargo. "Ulopo. It's not often that one comes across a gentleman in this godscursed town." She leans in close and breathes into your ear. " watch out for Boss Bu'Bu. He doesn't take to strangers who interfere in his business. "
Ulopo is a small, slender Paoi woman. Her head is shaved, and her arms and neck are heavily tattooed.
She bows almost mockingly to the party, snaps her fingers, and departs, followed by her lackeys.
Aaron trails behind the party, and upon hearing the cries for help decides to help out, it might be a good way to meet this group since they obviously don't care for mean people.
a pair of wings covered in jet-black feahers burst out through carefully cut holes in the back of his cloak, lifting him into the air as he quickly flies over to the roof of a building on the side of the alley, perching on the roof as he looks down, shortbow in hand with an arrow already notched, ready to make his shot as soon as he sees an opening
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
So far this session I have hit my teammates twice, flat-out missed 3 times, and only hit the enemy twice. Trust me, you don't want to borrow my dice.
Geralt glances over his shoulder and takes a handaxe from his belt. He twirls it around in his hand, looking up at the aarakocra, making it very apparent that he his ready to send it sailing into the birdman's skull if he looses the arrow.
"Best put... that down. It's over now, no... need to shoot anyone."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
The elf allowed herself a glimmer of a grin when Fiddle brandished his new wonder toy, though really there was nothing childlike about it. "Tell me at least you've tested it" she teased. It was an impressive mechanical device, but she did her best to keep her eyes on the woman, rather than the shiny weapon. Though a good amount of that resolve staggered when Geralt, as he had introduced himself, unclasped his cloak - now there was certainly nothing left to hide all of what he was - whatever that was. She couldn't be sure if it would effectively make the bald women think twice on sight alone, but had it been Aramintha, it sure as hell would have done the trick.
Even as J'zargo spoke, the elf had kept her hand on the hilt of her short sword, though the more it seemed the tensions were diminishing, the grip on it loosened. She waited until the woman had gained some distance on them to turn to her Tabaxian friend, "you were a politician in your former life, weren't you?" Yes, she had seen his persuasive powers on the more diplomatic matters that arose in the steamboat, but none of them had possessed the same kind of danger there had been now. Nor surely, had it met against a rather determined henchmen in that time.
Thoughts were suddenly ushered out as she saw the feathery motions, could feel the gentle air that pushed off its wings with every down stroke. From what she could see of his attire, it was possible it could be the other hooded figure she'd seen coming from town, though ti wasn't anything she was betting on just yet. Her gaze went from the winged creature, to Geralt and then back again. She managed to see the stranger well enough with her darkvision, but she couldn't yet gauge their intention. "He's right" she said simply, gesturing to Geralt, "though the effort is appreciated." That's something modest J'zargo would say, wasn't it?
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Soren - Lvl. 5 Half Orc Barbarian - The Adventures of Salazria
Upon seeing that the situation had changed from when he had started in that direction he put away his bow, before carefully hopping off he side of the building, flapping his wings once as he descends, landing gently on the ground, before sliding his wings back under his cloak.
"My apologies, I hadn't realised that the situation had changed before I reached the top of the building there"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
So far this session I have hit my teammates twice, flat-out missed 3 times, and only hit the enemy twice. Trust me, you don't want to borrow my dice.
"Madam Ulopo, a pleasure to be making your acquaintance." He takes her hand for a second, while listening to her warning. "A wise person in a new place should be heeding the advice of locals, yes?" He grins and lets her and her colleagues leave, before offering a hand up to the man on the floor. "Come, my friend, you will drink with us, and be telling us of your woes, no?"
The tabaxi throws his head back and laughs at the suggestion of a political career. "Ha! J'zargo is not dealing with the politicians, but is smuggling himself in and out of the bedroom window of a particular politician's delightful daughter from time to time..." He chuckles to himself, catching sight of the figure on the roof at the same time. "Noblest of heroes! Your intent to be saving our bacon has been noted! Please also be joining us, we will be making the Mr. Wanderboots a most wealthy person at the rate we are rounding up people."
The man groans as J'zargo helps him stand. His face is bruised and bloody, and his left arm hangs limply at his side. He stammers out his thanks, Common clearly not his first language.
A look of consternation comes across J'zargo's face as he tries to remember the local language he had picked up so little of before he left for Terra Legum. "Alo... Aloha... e ke hoa... Mai... maikaʻi ʻoe?"
The man cracks a pained smile and returns the greeting, introducing himself as Akamu. He follows you to the Dancing Monkey.
The Dancing Monkey is a two-story wooden building which overlooks the northern area of the bay. You push aside the cloths that cover the doorway and find yourselves in a comfortable tavern. The windows are thrown open wide to admit the salty air, and the walls are decorated with seashells, tribal masks, and wooden carvings, and over the bar looms a stuffed allosaurus head. A rope ladder ascends to the upper floor, which constitutes the inn of the establishment.
The inn is packed with a variety of characters. Paoi fishermen compare catches, grim-countenanced clerics of the Iron God preach of the imminent judgement to come, miners and prospectors coated in rock dust play dice at the bar, a wild-eyed dwarf tells stories of his exploits in the jungle to anyone who will listen, and a kobold in clerical robes watches the proceedings silently.
The bartender leans over the counter and shouts to be heard over the commotion.
"The name's Lam Wanderboots! How's about a jug of ahi for your party?"
Once inside of the building and out of view of the crowds on the streets, Aaron pulls back the hood of his cloak. He seems to be an Aarakocra, but his feathers are jet-black, something you've never heard of any aarakocra having. He replies to the Lam
"Yes please good sir!"
He then looks for a table large enough for the whole group and takes them over to it
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
So far this session I have hit my teammates twice, flat-out missed 3 times, and only hit the enemy twice. Trust me, you don't want to borrow my dice.
Fiddle watches as the woman and her thugs lose resolve and break away, and he begrudgingly puts away his pistol. "Blast. I just wanted to test some of the modifications... Oh well. Oh hmm,? Of course I've tested it! Kinda. In theory. Without ammunition. It should be fine. I think. Oh well. In this place there should be no shortage of crazy to test it out on." Fiddle begrudgingly admits to himself that it's best for everyone that J'Zargo is the one who did the talking. Fiddle would have likely incurred a much different response, which would have put them in bad favor of Boss Bu'bu or whatever name he had decided on.
Looking at their new avian ally, Fiddle ponders to himself, wondering if he might be able to build something that would let him fly. "I'm small enough, I should be able to make it work. If not, maybe something to carry my stuff for me. That'd be nice."
"I'd take a drink, something strong or something cold, and a tip for you if you have something that is both. And some food!"
While the weather and missed opportunity for experimentation still leaves Fiddle in a largely grumpy mood, he loves the environment here. The chaos suits him nicely. Seeing the black feathers on Aaron, "Well that's odd, usually, the feathers come in shades of... *ahem* so what's your story? Name's Inakari Fiddlefen. You can call me Fiddle. Oy, elf, I owe you a drink. What are ya having?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Salazar - Human Warlock of the Fiend (1) - The Lucarcian Incident
Shepherd Torrent Brallern Water Genasi Druid (1) - Ekuepool
Celeste Belle - Air Genasi Mutant Blood Hunter (1) - Old West
"Well... unfortunately that's a story that I am unable to tell you. My name's Aaron, but unfortunately I know little more than that about myself. You see, I simply woke up on a local beach a few weeks ago now, but I have no memories of my past other than my name. I can remember various pieces of information and such, but nothing more than that." Aaron replies to Fiddle
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
So far this session I have hit my teammates twice, flat-out missed 3 times, and only hit the enemy twice. Trust me, you don't want to borrow my dice.
Sitting inside the tavern silently, you can see Sobbi Shortmaul, a golden-brown scaled Kobold, with bright yellow eyes. He wears a white cloak laid with a series of holes and tears, the lower parts of it smeared with dirt, through those holes you can see a set of leather armor, and to his back a backpack almost two times his size. His eyes staring blankly at the rowdy crowd unmoved, looking bored to death with a hint of frustration, occasionally taking sips from his tankard, winces everytime at the aftertaste.
But the second he notices the entering party, his eyes like deadwood set ablaze. He was looking for someone to talk to, he tried with every single customer in this place, but no one had taken him seriously, and now he sees another opportunity. He places down his tankard rashly and skitters across the tavern over to the party, he looks up with his shiny yellow eyes and opens his maul to a bright grin, “ Adventurers, I can see that you are all weary and thirsty,” his voice is squeaky, and yet he tries to conduct himself in a dignified manner, like a child failing to imitate his parents, “Look no further, please...please come and sit with me.”
He turns around and skitters across the tavern, not waiting for an answer, “Mr. Wanderboots, I would like a round for…” looks down and counts with his eight tiny fingers, “the six of them!” after that he once again skitters across the tavern back to his seat awaiting the party with a big grin.
Geralt peers down at the tiny kobold, having just finished putting his cloak back on. He leaves the hood down this time, exposing his lovely flesh-toned prune of a head. His face twitches and he stutters a few times before managing to speak in his grating voice.
"What do you... want."
The sentence seems to be less of a question, and more of a statement, delivered in a cold, deadpan tone. Geralt does not look like he is in the mood for pleasantries, though he rarely looks like he is in the mood for anything besides being a grumpy prick.
"And don't... order one for me. I... don't drink."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Sobbi completely misses Geralt's comment as he's now infused with excitement. He skittered away before Geralt finishes his sentence and is now sitting there waving his scaly hand,“ Come! We have drinks!”
"Fear not, my tall friend, for I will be drinking your drink for you, yes? If you wish to not be partaking, it is no problem for J'zargo." The tabaxi claps the tall gentleman on the back, and winces slightly, as the surface he hit was far harder than he imagined. "You have good armor on under your simple clothing... this is good, if we are coming across more thugs."
"My dearest kobold, we will most certainly be joining you, although I am thinking your pockets may be empty of coin soon if you are buying for everyone." He strides over to the kobold's table and sits with him, but not before calling to the bartender. "A wet rag to be please served with the drinks, our new friend here by the naming of Akamu has been roughed up most violently. It would be a shame for him to be sitting among us with a bloodied nose, while we laugh and carouse."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
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"I have had... no stroke. This... is how I am. I do... not inquire about any condition... you may have."
The man sticks out his his abnormally large, gloved hand, proffering it to the gnome.
"Geralt Demnor. Do not worry. It's not... contagious. And I'll make sure to... spare your hand."
As they come up to the thugs and the woman, Geralt pauses, snapping his hand away and standing to his full, strangely quite imposing, height. His hand reaches up and he unclasps his cloak, allowing it to fall to the ground in a heap, and revealing that which lies beneath. Much of his body is still covered by a long sleeved shirt and a pair of pants, and underneath those some white cloth wrappings, but his bald head and a few other pieces of flesh, all the same as what has been seen already, are revealed. Additionally, the large, makeshift greataxe on his back and twin handaxes of similar make on his belt are revealed. He reaches up with a gloved hand and brandishes the axe with remarkable ease, allowing it to drag across the floor, raising sparks, as he approaches.
"Please... step away from the... man."
He smiles, a horrible thing showing strange, metallic teeth glittering in the sun.
"It would be best... for your health."
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
(We'll add this in to before we meet the four people)
"Ah, I meant no offense. I just might be able to help if that's the case. I've been told that I'm a bit... short. I meant no offense." He cautiously offers his hand "a pleasure meeting you!"
Salazar - Human Warlock of the Fiend (1) - The Lucarcian Incident
Shepherd Torrent Brallern Water Genasi Druid (1) - Ekuepool
Celeste Belle - Air Genasi Mutant Blood Hunter (1) - Old West
DM for A Waterdhavian Heist
J'zargo looks at Geralt with a look of both mild amusement and fascination as the tabaxi steps in between both groups. His mouth smiles, but his eyes darting between the hands of the thugs and the woman, looking for the first signs of a weapon being drawn. "Madam, we have gotten off on the wrong foot, no? My friends and myself are certainly new here, how do you say, fresh off the boat? A long journey often is meaning a fraying of the tempers, but it would be a shame for blood to be spilled our first evening here, yes?"
He eyes the beaten man for a second, before continuing. "I myself have delivered such 'messages' from my boss to business associates on occasion, and I am thinking that this one has fully understood now, yes? Perhaps we are going our separate ways, we are buying your 'associate' a drink, and you are free to enjoy your pleasant evening, yes?"
Persuasion: 12
The woman contemplates J'zargo's words and nods. "Lay off, boys." She commands the thugs before offering her hand to J'zargo. "Ulopo. It's not often that one comes across a gentleman in this godscursed town." She leans in close and breathes into your ear. " watch out for Boss Bu'Bu. He doesn't take to strangers who interfere in his business. "
Ulopo is a small, slender Paoi woman. Her head is shaved, and her arms and neck are heavily tattooed.
She bows almost mockingly to the party, snaps her fingers, and departs, followed by her lackeys.
Aaron trails behind the party, and upon hearing the cries for help decides to help out, it might be a good way to meet this group since they obviously don't care for mean people.
a pair of wings covered in jet-black feahers burst out through carefully cut holes in the back of his cloak, lifting him into the air as he quickly flies over to the roof of a building on the side of the alley, perching on the roof as he looks down, shortbow in hand with an arrow already notched, ready to make his shot as soon as he sees an opening
So far this session I have hit my teammates twice, flat-out missed 3 times, and only hit the enemy twice. Trust me, you don't want to borrow my dice.
Geralt glances over his shoulder and takes a handaxe from his belt. He twirls it around in his hand, looking up at the aarakocra, making it very apparent that he his ready to send it sailing into the birdman's skull if he looses the arrow.
"Best put... that down. It's over now, no... need to shoot anyone."
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
The elf allowed herself a glimmer of a grin when Fiddle brandished his new wonder toy, though really there was nothing childlike about it. "Tell me at least you've tested it" she teased. It was an impressive mechanical device, but she did her best to keep her eyes on the woman, rather than the shiny weapon. Though a good amount of that resolve staggered when Geralt, as he had introduced himself, unclasped his cloak - now there was certainly nothing left to hide all of what he was - whatever that was. She couldn't be sure if it would effectively make the bald women think twice on sight alone, but had it been Aramintha, it sure as hell would have done the trick.
Even as J'zargo spoke, the elf had kept her hand on the hilt of her short sword, though the more it seemed the tensions were diminishing, the grip on it loosened. She waited until the woman had gained some distance on them to turn to her Tabaxian friend, "you were a politician in your former life, weren't you?" Yes, she had seen his persuasive powers on the more diplomatic matters that arose in the steamboat, but none of them had possessed the same kind of danger there had been now. Nor surely, had it met against a rather determined henchmen in that time.
Thoughts were suddenly ushered out as she saw the feathery motions, could feel the gentle air that pushed off its wings with every down stroke. From what she could see of his attire, it was possible it could be the other hooded figure she'd seen coming from town, though ti wasn't anything she was betting on just yet. Her gaze went from the winged creature, to Geralt and then back again. She managed to see the stranger well enough with her darkvision, but she couldn't yet gauge their intention. "He's right" she said simply, gesturing to Geralt, "though the effort is appreciated." That's something modest J'zargo would say, wasn't it?
Soren - Lvl. 5 Half Orc Barbarian - The Adventures of Salazria
Aramintha Erosflyn - Lvl. 1 Wood Elf Ranger - Legend of the Godeater
Upon seeing that the situation had changed from when he had started in that direction he put away his bow, before carefully hopping off he side of the building, flapping his wings once as he descends, landing gently on the ground, before sliding his wings back under his cloak.
"My apologies, I hadn't realised that the situation had changed before I reached the top of the building there"
So far this session I have hit my teammates twice, flat-out missed 3 times, and only hit the enemy twice. Trust me, you don't want to borrow my dice.
"Madam Ulopo, a pleasure to be making your acquaintance." He takes her hand for a second, while listening to her warning. "A wise person in a new place should be heeding the advice of locals, yes?" He grins and lets her and her colleagues leave, before offering a hand up to the man on the floor. "Come, my friend, you will drink with us, and be telling us of your woes, no?"
The tabaxi throws his head back and laughs at the suggestion of a political career. "Ha! J'zargo is not dealing with the politicians, but is smuggling himself in and out of the bedroom window of a particular politician's delightful daughter from time to time..." He chuckles to himself, catching sight of the figure on the roof at the same time. "Noblest of heroes! Your intent to be saving our bacon has been noted! Please also be joining us, we will be making the Mr. Wanderboots a most wealthy person at the rate we are rounding up people."
The man groans as J'zargo helps him stand. His face is bruised and bloody, and his left arm hangs limply at his side. He stammers out his thanks, Common clearly not his first language.
A look of consternation comes across J'zargo's face as he tries to remember the local language he had picked up so little of before he left for Terra Legum. "Alo... Aloha... e ke hoa... Mai... maikaʻi ʻoe?"
The man cracks a pained smile and returns the greeting, introducing himself as Akamu. He follows you to the Dancing Monkey.
The Dancing Monkey is a two-story wooden building which overlooks the northern area of the bay. You push aside the cloths that cover the doorway and find yourselves in a comfortable tavern. The windows are thrown open wide to admit the salty air, and the walls are decorated with seashells, tribal masks, and wooden carvings, and over the bar looms a stuffed allosaurus head. A rope ladder ascends to the upper floor, which constitutes the inn of the establishment.
The inn is packed with a variety of characters. Paoi fishermen compare catches, grim-countenanced clerics of the Iron God preach of the imminent judgement to come, miners and prospectors coated in rock dust play dice at the bar, a wild-eyed dwarf tells stories of his exploits in the jungle to anyone who will listen, and a kobold in clerical robes watches the proceedings silently.
The bartender leans over the counter and shouts to be heard over the commotion.
"The name's Lam Wanderboots! How's about a jug of ahi for your party?"
(Enter Sobbi Shortmaul!)
Once inside of the building and out of view of the crowds on the streets, Aaron pulls back the hood of his cloak. He seems to be an Aarakocra, but his feathers are jet-black, something you've never heard of any aarakocra having. He replies to the Lam
"Yes please good sir!"
He then looks for a table large enough for the whole group and takes them over to it
So far this session I have hit my teammates twice, flat-out missed 3 times, and only hit the enemy twice. Trust me, you don't want to borrow my dice.
Fiddle watches as the woman and her thugs lose resolve and break away, and he begrudgingly puts away his pistol. "Blast. I just wanted to test some of the modifications... Oh well. Oh hmm,? Of course I've tested it! Kinda. In theory. Without ammunition. It should be fine. I think. Oh well. In this place there should be no shortage of crazy to test it out on." Fiddle begrudgingly admits to himself that it's best for everyone that J'Zargo is the one who did the talking. Fiddle would have likely incurred a much different response, which would have put them in bad favor of Boss Bu'bu or whatever name he had decided on.
Looking at their new avian ally, Fiddle ponders to himself, wondering if he might be able to build something that would let him fly. "I'm small enough, I should be able to make it work. If not, maybe something to carry my stuff for me. That'd be nice."
"I'd take a drink, something strong or something cold, and a tip for you if you have something that is both. And some food!"
While the weather and missed opportunity for experimentation still leaves Fiddle in a largely grumpy mood, he loves the environment here. The chaos suits him nicely. Seeing the black feathers on Aaron, "Well that's odd, usually, the feathers come in shades of... *ahem* so what's your story? Name's Inakari Fiddlefen. You can call me Fiddle. Oy, elf, I owe you a drink. What are ya having?"
Salazar - Human Warlock of the Fiend (1) - The Lucarcian Incident
Shepherd Torrent Brallern Water Genasi Druid (1) - Ekuepool
Celeste Belle - Air Genasi Mutant Blood Hunter (1) - Old West
DM for A Waterdhavian Heist
"Well... unfortunately that's a story that I am unable to tell you. My name's Aaron, but unfortunately I know little more than that about myself. You see, I simply woke up on a local beach a few weeks ago now, but I have no memories of my past other than my name. I can remember various pieces of information and such, but nothing more than that." Aaron replies to Fiddle
So far this session I have hit my teammates twice, flat-out missed 3 times, and only hit the enemy twice. Trust me, you don't want to borrow my dice.
Sitting inside the tavern silently, you can see Sobbi Shortmaul, a golden-brown scaled Kobold, with bright yellow eyes. He wears a white cloak laid with a series of holes and tears, the lower parts of it smeared with dirt, through those holes you can see a set of leather armor, and to his back a backpack almost two times his size. His eyes staring blankly at the rowdy crowd unmoved, looking bored to death with a hint of frustration, occasionally taking sips from his tankard, winces everytime at the aftertaste.
But the second he notices the entering party, his eyes like deadwood set ablaze. He was looking for someone to talk to, he tried with every single customer in this place, but no one had taken him seriously, and now he sees another opportunity. He places down his tankard rashly and skitters across the tavern over to the party, he looks up with his shiny yellow eyes and opens his maul to a bright grin, “ Adventurers, I can see that you are all weary and thirsty,” his voice is squeaky, and yet he tries to conduct himself in a dignified manner, like a child failing to imitate his parents, “Look no further, please...please come and sit with me.”
He turns around and skitters across the tavern, not waiting for an answer, “Mr. Wanderboots, I would like a round for…” looks down and counts with his eight tiny fingers, “the six of them!” after that he once again skitters across the tavern back to his seat awaiting the party with a big grin.
Geralt peers down at the tiny kobold, having just finished putting his cloak back on. He leaves the hood down this time, exposing his lovely flesh-toned prune of a head. His face twitches and he stutters a few times before managing to speak in his grating voice.
"What do you... want."
The sentence seems to be less of a question, and more of a statement, delivered in a cold, deadpan tone. Geralt does not look like he is in the mood for pleasantries, though he rarely looks like he is in the mood for anything besides being a grumpy prick.
"And don't... order one for me. I... don't drink."
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Sobbi completely misses Geralt's comment as he's now infused with excitement. He skittered away before Geralt finishes his sentence and is now sitting there waving his scaly hand, “ Come! We have drinks!”
Shrugs and goes over to him
So far this session I have hit my teammates twice, flat-out missed 3 times, and only hit the enemy twice. Trust me, you don't want to borrow my dice.
"Fear not, my tall friend, for I will be drinking your drink for you, yes? If you wish to not be partaking, it is no problem for J'zargo." The tabaxi claps the tall gentleman on the back, and winces slightly, as the surface he hit was far harder than he imagined. "You have good armor on under your simple clothing... this is good, if we are coming across more thugs."
"My dearest kobold, we will most certainly be joining you, although I am thinking your pockets may be empty of coin soon if you are buying for everyone." He strides over to the kobold's table and sits with him, but not before calling to the bartender. "A wet rag to be please served with the drinks, our new friend here by the naming of Akamu has been roughed up most violently. It would be a shame for him to be sitting among us with a bloodied nose, while we laugh and carouse."