Cormac shrugs as he stows the bottle away for the time being. When he has more time he may mess about with it to see what it really is. As the others question the other woman he pauses, waiting to see what this will lead to.
Dusty seems content to idly watch as the woman makes sales, quietly playing slow haunting melodies on his harmonica, smiling over the edges of it when the woman tells of the miraculous properties of the "mole oil".
Winchester quitely smiles to himself, as he watches a seemingly undead patron purchase goods to ward himself from undead. He too let's everyone finish their business without engaging the old woman himself. Instead, he falls in with one of Dusties tunes, recognizing and old, wailing melody. Humming along, he waits to make his way back to the Inn, for drink or fight alike.
(Apologies for my tardiness, I literally just misplaced my computer for a full day. And yes, it was in a very obvious place all along.)
As you make your way back to the inn, you do not find yourselves delayed any further. Pushing through the swinging door, you find the tavern in the condition you left it in, Marcus sitting at the bar in the same position. He’s got a few more empty glasses, however, and his nose is noticeable redder. He waved a lazy hand as you approach, then returns it to his glass.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
"MARCUS!" Dusty greets the man warmly with a jovial shout, "Good to see that you're not dead, yet. How fares the waiting game? did anything of interest happen whilst we were otherwise engaged?"
Finding his way to the bar, Dusty gestures the others over to come sit with him, then he looks around the tavern from his stool to see if he can find any cards, or alternatively anyone playing card games.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Cormac will go over to a table, his mechanical hound moving to silently sit near the chair the dwarven dhamphir had claimed as his spot. With little else to do at the moment he will take out the Mole Oil he bought and examine it closely before reaching into his pack and pulling out something to poor it into.
(Going to investigate it to see if he can find out just what it is.)
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
OCC Did Kronk get an answer when he asked the old 'lady' about whether the stuff burned?
Kronk will follow the others back to the Inn, queitly observing all that goes on around him. [Perception 8]
When the party arrives he will join Dusty at Marcus' table, sitting gingerly on a chair that creaks alarmingly under the assault of his mass. "When we getting the point to which we start deading undeaders?" His mismatched eyes gleaming, tilting his head in a way that makes them, almost, seem aligned rather than sliding down his face, or up, depending on how one interprets his appearance.
Marcus shakes his head as he tips the last drops in his glass into his maw.
”Nothin’ much’s happened, ‘m afraid.”
Looking around, you easily spot a discarded pack on one of the tables, open with its contents scattered about the table. Someone didn’t clean up after themselves.
Cormac:
Examining the dark, viscous liquid, you can’t quite determine what it is. It seems very sticky and it moves with the consistency of honey. The little white dots within stay suspended, unable to settle in such a thick liquid. It gives off a sort of bitter, sour smell.
Kronk:
(The woman would likely have given you a bit of a miffed expression, and hurried off before any more questions could be asked.)
“Deadin’ undeader’s ‘ll come soon, don’t worry. If you’re all done with whatever you were doin’ at the Cirque, we can head t’ my house, an’ I can give ya more info.”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Collecting together the cards and sliding them back into their pack Dusty pockets the cards and raises a chin at Marcus
"This about your sister? are we not waiting for this 'M' person to show? at this point I'm getting pretty pissed at the fact we were brought together by some unknown advocate only to be stood up!I mean, I'm all for coming with you but I don't wanna miss my shot if someone rocks up with a better plan.."
As Dusty resumes his seat waiting for input or response he looks over toward Cormac inspecting his vial of "mole oil" and amusedly jibes "the only way you'll know is to taste it, if you dare".
Cormac frowns at it but shuts the bottle again and opens up the bag at his side, dropping it in before closing it and grabbing his rifle. As he joins the others he looks to them with a raised brow. "No idea what that stuff is. Don't think it would be smart to drink it though."
Kronk looks at Marcus, "What jobs paying you got?" He holds his iron bar in the hollow of his shoulder, one end resting on the floor next to his bare feet which, when noticed, are covered with fur just on the tops, and the nails are thick and dangerous looking, made for tearing at the soft areas of a 'victim' perhaps.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Panic is a mechanism that strengthens the gene pool.
"Tch. At this point I've pretty much given up on this 'M' guy. I got a letter sayin' people who could help me'd be here, you show up here, I connect the dots."
Kronk:
"Like I said before. Baron's been visiting my sister, for some reason. I wanna get her outta here and somewhere safe, where he can't find her."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
As Dusty chuckles at Cormac's response He sits at the bar next to Marcus and begins counting out his newly acquired cards, shuffling and dealing out a game of solitaire for himself as he waits for others to have input,
"Well Marcus, I'll be here and ready whenever you are, just give me the word", Dusty makes sure he is loud enough for the others to hear his intent.
Hugeo shrugs, then lets his arms drop; the metal making a sharp, high-pitched sound when it hits the metallic leg. "If it helps denying that pompous baron of what he wants, might as well do that instead of waiting here for ever. Lead the way, Marcus."
Standing right at the counter, Winchester looks back at Dusty and Marcus, a pained expression on his face. The reason is quite obvious, as the he is clearly torn apart between either getting another drink, or leaving in search for the baron and thus potentially, a fight. With more and more people voicing their desire to get going, he lets out a deep sigh, his shoulders slightly slumped, and walks up to the table Marcus is seated at. He leans forward on the table, looking him over. "Alrightio. I'm surely lookin' forward to see ya sisters face when our motley crew comes ridin' through the door tho. She's gonna feel like she joined a pageant. Shall we?"
Cormac shrugs before he looks over at Huego and then the mechanical hound that waits patiently at his side. He pull looks to be closely looking at the metal parts on the man, seeming to be drawing up plans in his head.
Marcus nods, then stands and pays his bill, as well as any that you lot would have accrued at the bar and haven’t already paid. He stumbles his way out the door, his hair evidently adversely affected by the drink he has imbibed. He leads you through the town, from where the tavern stands near the town’s first ring finger, towards its thumb. You cross four small bridges and a short lift, some nameless grunt with rippling muscles hauling you up to the thumb’s metacarpal.
A brisk hike across the long bone takes you to the large gap where the proximal phalanx would be, spanned by a creaking bridge. Despite his beer-addled stride, Marcus navigates it with surprising nimbleness. As he approaches the leaning house at the tip of the distal phalanx, the only building standing there, Marcus’ ordinarily somewhat cheerful expression fades to a grave, melancholic one.
You soon arrive at a large iron gate, which possibly would have shown an elegant design if it hadn’t been twisted beyond recognition. Marcus pulls a key from his belt and unlocks it, ignoring the fact that the entire right gate is torn off. The more perceptive among you can see a dark speck far below, half covered by sand, a few twisted bars poking up out of it.
The mansion itself beyond the gate is in an equally sorry state. It may have once been beautiful, but time and trouble have not been kind to it. The once beautiful finish is covered in claw marks, and large splashes of black tell the tales of fires that have assailed the mansion. The windows are empty of any panes, not a single shard of glass remaining within them. Replacing the glass are thick wooden boards, nailed haphazardly over the windows. The mansions walls are ridden with ragged bullet holes, the largest of which have been patched up by an unskilled hand. To top it all off, the whole affair leans dangerously to the left, seeming just a sliver away from tipping right over, tumbling off the edge of the wastebone and to the deadly Sands below.
Marcus gestures ahead, swaying slightly on his feet.
”There it is, the good ol’ family home. Make yerselves at home, I’ll introduce ya to my sis.”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
"How did the baron even find you in such a remote place?" Hugeo asks. For someone who had not had a house for many years, he could imagine himself finding such a place, and if it were abandoned, calling it home for a while. Even without windows, it should be able to protect from the weather, slightly. Still, for a family of at least two, would they not prefer a more comfortable place? "Or did you come here in order to hide?"
Cormac shrugs as he stows the bottle away for the time being. When he has more time he may mess about with it to see what it really is. As the others question the other woman he pauses, waiting to see what this will lead to.
Dusty seems content to idly watch as the woman makes sales, quietly playing slow haunting melodies on his harmonica, smiling over the edges of it when the woman tells of the miraculous properties of the "mole oil".
Winchester quitely smiles to himself, as he watches a seemingly undead patron purchase goods to ward himself from undead. He too let's everyone finish their business without engaging the old woman himself. Instead, he falls in with one of Dusties tunes, recognizing and old, wailing melody. Humming along, he waits to make his way back to the Inn, for drink or fight alike.
(Apologies for my tardiness, I literally just misplaced my computer for a full day. And yes, it was in a very obvious place all along.)
As you make your way back to the inn, you do not find yourselves delayed any further. Pushing through the swinging door, you find the tavern in the condition you left it in, Marcus sitting at the bar in the same position. He’s got a few more empty glasses, however, and his nose is noticeable redder. He waved a lazy hand as you approach, then returns it to his glass.
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
"MARCUS!" Dusty greets the man warmly with a jovial shout, "Good to see that you're not dead, yet. How fares the waiting game? did anything of interest happen whilst we were otherwise engaged?"
Finding his way to the bar, Dusty gestures the others over to come sit with him, then he looks around the tavern from his stool to see if he can find any cards, or alternatively anyone playing card games.
perception if needed: 15
Cormac will go over to a table, his mechanical hound moving to silently sit near the chair the dwarven dhamphir had claimed as his spot. With little else to do at the moment he will take out the Mole Oil he bought and examine it closely before reaching into his pack and pulling out something to poor it into.
(Going to investigate it to see if he can find out just what it is.)
Investigation: 9
OCC Did Kronk get an answer when he asked the old 'lady' about whether the stuff burned?
Kronk will follow the others back to the Inn, queitly observing all that goes on around him. [Perception 8]
When the party arrives he will join Dusty at Marcus' table, sitting gingerly on a chair that creaks alarmingly under the assault of his mass. "When we getting the point to which we start deading undeaders?" His mismatched eyes gleaming, tilting his head in a way that makes them, almost, seem aligned rather than sliding down his face, or up, depending on how one interprets his appearance.
Panic is a mechanism that strengthens the gene pool.
Dusty:
Marcus shakes his head as he tips the last drops in his glass into his maw.
”Nothin’ much’s happened, ‘m afraid.”
Looking around, you easily spot a discarded pack on one of the tables, open with its contents scattered about the table. Someone didn’t clean up after themselves.
Cormac:
Examining the dark, viscous liquid, you can’t quite determine what it is. It seems very sticky and it moves with the consistency of honey. The little white dots within stay suspended, unable to settle in such a thick liquid. It gives off a sort of bitter, sour smell.
Kronk:
(The woman would likely have given you a bit of a miffed expression, and hurried off before any more questions could be asked.)
“Deadin’ undeader’s ‘ll come soon, don’t worry. If you’re all done with whatever you were doin’ at the Cirque, we can head t’ my house, an’ I can give ya more info.”
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Collecting together the cards and sliding them back into their pack Dusty pockets the cards and raises a chin at Marcus
"This about your sister? are we not waiting for this 'M' person to show? at this point I'm getting pretty pissed at the fact we were brought together by some unknown advocate only to be stood up! I mean, I'm all for coming with you but I don't wanna miss my shot if someone rocks up with a better plan.."
As Dusty resumes his seat waiting for input or response he looks over toward Cormac inspecting his vial of "mole oil" and amusedly jibes "the only way you'll know is to taste it, if you dare".
Cormac frowns at it but shuts the bottle again and opens up the bag at his side, dropping it in before closing it and grabbing his rifle. As he joins the others he looks to them with a raised brow. "No idea what that stuff is. Don't think it would be smart to drink it though."
Kronk looks at Marcus, "What jobs paying you got?" He holds his iron bar in the hollow of his shoulder, one end resting on the floor next to his bare feet which, when noticed, are covered with fur just on the tops, and the nails are thick and dangerous looking, made for tearing at the soft areas of a 'victim' perhaps.
Panic is a mechanism that strengthens the gene pool.
Dusty:
"Tch. At this point I've pretty much given up on this 'M' guy. I got a letter sayin' people who could help me'd be here, you show up here, I connect the dots."
Kronk:
"Like I said before. Baron's been visiting my sister, for some reason. I wanna get her outta here and somewhere safe, where he can't find her."
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
As Dusty chuckles at Cormac's response He sits at the bar next to Marcus and begins counting out his newly acquired cards, shuffling and dealing out a game of solitaire for himself as he waits for others to have input,
"Well Marcus, I'll be here and ready whenever you are, just give me the word", Dusty makes sure he is loud enough for the others to hear his intent.
Hugeo shrugs, then lets his arms drop; the metal making a sharp, high-pitched sound when it hits the metallic leg. "If it helps denying that pompous baron of what he wants, might as well do that instead of waiting here for ever. Lead the way, Marcus."
Varielky
"Going let's." Kronk says, standing back from the table, hefting his iron bar with a huge grin. "Long time no smashing evil!"
Panic is a mechanism that strengthens the gene pool.
Standing right at the counter, Winchester looks back at Dusty and Marcus, a pained expression on his face. The reason is quite obvious, as the he is clearly torn apart between either getting another drink, or leaving in search for the baron and thus potentially, a fight. With more and more people voicing their desire to get going, he lets out a deep sigh, his shoulders slightly slumped, and walks up to the table Marcus is seated at. He leans forward on the table, looking him over. "Alrightio. I'm surely lookin' forward to see ya sisters face when our motley crew comes ridin' through the door tho. She's gonna feel like she joined a pageant. Shall we?"
Cormac shrugs before he looks over at Huego and then the mechanical hound that waits patiently at his side. He pull looks to be closely looking at the metal parts on the man, seeming to be drawing up plans in his head.
(I will update tomorrow, I had an unfortunately busy day today, especially for a Sunday.)
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Marcus nods, then stands and pays his bill, as well as any that you lot would have accrued at the bar and haven’t already paid. He stumbles his way out the door, his hair evidently adversely affected by the drink he has imbibed. He leads you through the town, from where the tavern stands near the town’s first ring finger, towards its thumb. You cross four small bridges and a short lift, some nameless grunt with rippling muscles hauling you up to the thumb’s metacarpal.
A brisk hike across the long bone takes you to the large gap where the proximal phalanx would be, spanned by a creaking bridge. Despite his beer-addled stride, Marcus navigates it with surprising nimbleness. As he approaches the leaning house at the tip of the distal phalanx, the only building standing there, Marcus’ ordinarily somewhat cheerful expression fades to a grave, melancholic one.
You soon arrive at a large iron gate, which possibly would have shown an elegant design if it hadn’t been twisted beyond recognition. Marcus pulls a key from his belt and unlocks it, ignoring the fact that the entire right gate is torn off. The more perceptive among you can see a dark speck far below, half covered by sand, a few twisted bars poking up out of it.
The mansion itself beyond the gate is in an equally sorry state. It may have once been beautiful, but time and trouble have not been kind to it. The once beautiful finish is covered in claw marks, and large splashes of black tell the tales of fires that have assailed the mansion. The windows are empty of any panes, not a single shard of glass remaining within them. Replacing the glass are thick wooden boards, nailed haphazardly over the windows. The mansions walls are ridden with ragged bullet holes, the largest of which have been patched up by an unskilled hand. To top it all off, the whole affair leans dangerously to the left, seeming just a sliver away from tipping right over, tumbling off the edge of the wastebone and to the deadly Sands below.
Marcus gestures ahead, swaying slightly on his feet.
”There it is, the good ol’ family home. Make yerselves at home, I’ll introduce ya to my sis.”
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
"How did the baron even find you in such a remote place?" Hugeo asks. For someone who had not had a house for many years, he could imagine himself finding such a place, and if it were abandoned, calling it home for a while. Even without windows, it should be able to protect from the weather, slightly. Still, for a family of at least two, would they not prefer a more comfortable place? "Or did you come here in order to hide?"
Varielky