Jeremiah thinks they look like bullies, and he doesn’t like those. He quickly measures the distances, and then with a whispered word of power, and a quick gesture, summons a Mage Hand low down, out of sight, which he uses to shove an empty chair in the way of the tattooed men...
Upon seeing the unusual movement of the chair, as well as the unusual movements of the ones with tattoos, the figure comes closer to get a better look.
As the human stumbles over the chair the half-orc turns around. "You stinking snakes. Im gonna get you for what you've done," the human snarls at the half-orc and he struggles to stand up. The half-orc takes a swing at him with her first landing a solid hit.
As you enter the Yawning Portal, your ears are assaulted by noise. Looking around the famed tavern, you see a number of figures that catch you eyes. Behind the bar is a tall human, pouring drinks and calling out to patrons. In one corner you see a half-orc and goliath trapped in an arm wrestling competition. Bonnie is hurrying between tables, passing out drinks. Across the room a large crowd of humans, dwarves, and halflings are cheering and shouting while gambling with dice. A loud group of adventurers are being lowered down into a giant well in the middle of the tavern to go explore Undermountain. The rest of the tavern is full of adventurers of all shapes and sizes drinking to past glories, meeting with old acquaintances, making new friends, and planning future endeavors.
Gorm Diabhal enters the Yawning Portal quietly, but with chin up, shoulders back and a grin on his face. This place is a bit more upscale than he was used to but that kind of thing is only intimidating if a person cares what others think.
The Tiefling paused a few steps inside the door and took in the atmosphere. I should have came here before, he thought to himself. The wide range of social classes, races, styles, and pretty much everything else quickly proved that this was a place anyone could fit in and get along or get lost, depending which they chose. As he took in the sights of the tavern, it was easy enough for the tavern to get a read on him - He was of ivory white skin and a shock of bright blue hair atop his head but kept shaven on the sides and back. Lean of frame and wiry of muscle, most here would be able to recognize him as one who kept his eyes open and his actions at the ready. He had small, short, slightly off white horns poking out of the side of his forehead, a long tail that trailed after him the narrowed down to a point and loose fitting, color clothing which seemed of good make but oft mended. Armed but unarmored, many would presume he was either a fool or one who could handle himself... And more than a few likely took bets he would prove it one way or another this night.
Gorm was looking for something... But it wasn't a fight. At least not yet. To start he would be happy with a beverage and a place to stand where he could watch the bar, and eavesdrop on as many as possible. It was opportunity he was looking for. He wasn't sure which, but hoped to know it when it presented itself...
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
A sweaty, breathless young urchin slips unseen in through the main entrance, and a quick look around finds him in a shadowy corner, watching the front door nervously. Finally relaxing as no-one seems to have followed him, he pulls a somewhat squished pasty from his pocket and starts to devour it, keeping an eye out in his vicinity.
A short while after, his breathing and nerves restored to their usual calm state, he takes a longer moment to take in the inn's clientele, eyes widening at the variety of garbs, races and languages contained in the space.
’You never told me about places like this..’ he mutters, as though to himself.
The imposing warforged pushes the tavern door open and pauses for a moment, a bit unsure of himself. He surveys the scene and is once again reminded of his lack of worldly experience. "Stop standing here like an idiot" he mumbles to himself and pushes forward into the tavern. He looks around trying to acclimate to all the noise, not used to being is such a loud, overwhelming place. He sees the arm wrestling and heads that way, glad to have some sort of destination in this mayhem. He watches the two contestants "Hmm, bet I could do that" he says absently and continues to observe the game.
Gorm Diabhal notices the robed figure reaching out to touch him and subtly steps back just out of reach, but he has a bright smile upon his face as he does so. "Hello there," he says with a friendly bow of his head as he does his best to look over this cloaked figure. "I'm Gorm. I guess that rhymes... Do I win a prize?"
20 on d20? Spoiler for Gorm below! (if the DM is ok with that?)
"Nicely met." she responds, tentatively moving back a bit.
Her accent is strange.
You can see that she has a fine covering of hair on her face and neck, silvery in the candle-light near the bar. Her eyes almost glow... and have odd cat-shaped pupils.
(That was just a roll for me on wether he'd notice you in time to be able to step back from the touch or not... I just did a normal look over of the character.)).
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
"So you know my name now... " Gorm says, noting the oddities but not remarking on them. He's gotten those kind of looks and comments plenty himself and he won't be the one perpetuating it. "So your name is?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
Jeremiah remains in a shadowed corner for now, wiping a greasy hand on threadbare pants as he finishes his pasty, and watching the room, while mumbling to himself.
(Perception: 22)
(Spoiler for DM)
'Yes, yes, I know I shouldn't do that, but you don't want me to get grease on you later do you?' he mumbles.
(Stealth roll, in case you want one to avoid being spotted by anyone: 21)
Jeremiah thinks they look like bullies, and he doesn’t like those. He quickly measures the distances, and then with a whispered word of power, and a quick gesture, summons a Mage Hand low down, out of sight, which he uses to shove an empty chair in the way of the tattooed men...
(Make a spell attack role)
Dex save - 8
The hand jerks forwards... 17
The cloaked figure is still watching…
Upon seeing the unusual movement of the chair, as well as the unusual movements of the ones with tattoos, the figure comes closer to get a better look.
As the human stumbles over the chair the half-orc turns around. "You stinking snakes. Im gonna get you for what you've done," the human snarls at the half-orc and he struggles to stand up. The half-orc takes a swing at him with her first landing a solid hit.
Guardian perception check to notice the half-orc/human fight. 12
Guardian sees the half-orc from the arm wrestling contest strike the human. He watches to see what will come of the altercation.
As you enter the Yawning Portal, your ears are assaulted by noise. Looking around the famed tavern, you see a number of figures that catch you eyes. Behind the bar is a tall human, pouring drinks and calling out to patrons. In one corner you see a half-orc and goliath trapped in an arm wrestling competition. Bonnie is hurrying between tables, passing out drinks. Across the room a large crowd of humans, dwarves, and halflings are cheering and shouting while gambling with dice. A loud group of adventurers are being lowered down into a giant well in the middle of the tavern to go explore Undermountain. The rest of the tavern is full of adventurers of all shapes and sizes drinking to past glories, meeting with old acquaintances, making new friends, and planning future endeavors.
Gorm Diabhal enters the Yawning Portal quietly, but with chin up, shoulders back and a grin on his face. This place is a bit more upscale than he was used to but that kind of thing is only intimidating if a person cares what others think.
The Tiefling paused a few steps inside the door and took in the atmosphere. I should have came here before, he thought to himself. The wide range of social classes, races, styles, and pretty much everything else quickly proved that this was a place anyone could fit in and get along or get lost, depending which they chose. As he took in the sights of the tavern, it was easy enough for the tavern to get a read on him - He was of ivory white skin and a shock of bright blue hair atop his head but kept shaven on the sides and back. Lean of frame and wiry of muscle, most here would be able to recognize him as one who kept his eyes open and his actions at the ready. He had small, short, slightly off white horns poking out of the side of his forehead, a long tail that trailed after him the narrowed down to a point and loose fitting, color clothing which seemed of good make but oft mended. Armed but unarmored, many would presume he was either a fool or one who could handle himself... And more than a few likely took bets he would prove it one way or another this night.
Gorm was looking for something... But it wasn't a fight. At least not yet. To start he would be happy with a beverage and a place to stand where he could watch the bar, and eavesdrop on as many as possible. It was opportunity he was looking for. He wasn't sure which, but hoped to know it when it presented itself...
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
-- Eleanor Shellstrop
A sweaty, breathless young urchin slips unseen in through the main entrance, and a quick look around finds him in a shadowy corner, watching the front door nervously. Finally relaxing as no-one seems to have followed him, he pulls a somewhat squished pasty from his pocket and starts to devour it, keeping an eye out in his vicinity.
A short while after, his breathing and nerves restored to their usual calm state, he takes a longer moment to take in the inn's clientele, eyes widening at the variety of garbs, races and languages contained in the space.
’You never told me about places like this..’ he mutters, as though to himself.
'Heh heh' a robed figure by the entrance chuckles.
"I've been watching you." she purrs, sidling up close
Her hands stroke the front of his chest and move to his side
A glimpse at the cloaked figure's face reveals that she's not quite human...
"What's your name sweetie... does it rhyme with "Thorm"?
"No answer hmmmm."
"Never mind then sweetie, I have some bigger fishes to fry."
She winks and turns her back.
She saunters towards another group.
The imposing warforged pushes the tavern door open and pauses for a moment, a bit unsure of himself. He surveys the scene and is once again reminded of his lack of worldly experience. "Stop standing here like an idiot" he mumbles to himself and pushes forward into the tavern. He looks around trying to acclimate to all the noise, not used to being is such a loud, overwhelming place. He sees the arm wrestling and heads that way, glad to have some sort of destination in this mayhem. He watches the two contestants "Hmm, bet I could do that" he says absently and continues to observe the game.
23
Gorm Diabhal notices the robed figure reaching out to touch him and subtly steps back just out of reach, but he has a bright smile upon his face as he does so. "Hello there," he says with a friendly bow of his head as he does his best to look over this cloaked figure. "I'm Gorm. I guess that rhymes... Do I win a prize?"
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
-- Eleanor Shellstrop
20 on d20? Spoiler for Gorm below! (if the DM is ok with that?)
"Nicely met." she responds, tentatively moving back a bit.
Her accent is strange.
You can see that she has a fine covering of hair on her face and neck, silvery in the candle-light near the bar. Her eyes almost glow... and have odd cat-shaped pupils.
(That was just a roll for me on wether he'd notice you in time to be able to step back from the touch or not... I just did a normal look over of the character.)).
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
-- Eleanor Shellstrop
heh lol
fun though?
"So you know my name now... " Gorm says, noting the oddities but not remarking on them. He's gotten those kind of looks and comments plenty himself and he won't be the one perpetuating it. "So your name is?"
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
-- Eleanor Shellstrop
She glances at a lady walking by in a purple dress. "Violet. My name is Violet."
Jeremiah remains in a shadowed corner for now, wiping a greasy hand on threadbare pants as he finishes his pasty, and watching the room, while mumbling to himself.
(Perception: 22)
(Spoiler for DM)
'Yes, yes, I know I shouldn't do that, but you don't want me to get grease on you later do you?' he mumbles.
(Stealth roll, in case you want one to avoid being spotted by anyone: 21)
"Volet... right. So, been here before, Violet? It's my first time visiting, I heard it's a place where one can find just about anything..." Gorm says.
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
-- Eleanor Shellstrop