"oh, welcome." says the woman. "T...i...D...4...is that an 'l'?"
It gently places down its anchor by the door where no one will stub their toe on it. It then strides up to the woman and presents her with a poster, written in a creole of Aquan and Gnomish. It seems to be a "have you seen this person"-type poster.
The person depicted, a young triton woman, looks very well off. She wears fine clothes and a cheerful grin.
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Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
The door opens to the touch of what seems to be a shadow, until you see the long hair tied in a ponytail, the grey skin covering a skeletal frame, and the piercing red eyes. Her brown pilot suit is covered with blood. She drags one of the ruffians that just left inside, her shadow closing the door behind her. She goes to the bar and says to the woman while lifting the barely conscious ruffian to eye level, “Was this man bothering you?”
'Do you know his name? Is he Damu Doyer? Cause that's the guy I'm looking for...'
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'Of course he does, if he's the guy I'm looking for.' He tugs on the tips of his red gloves as he goes over to the tortle. 'Good afternoon'
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A massive construct wielding an anchor walks in, dripping with seawater.
It looks almost like an old diving suit but is made with entirely organic shapes.
Its nameplate reads: T1D4L
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
It gently places down its anchor by the door where no one will stub their toe on it. It then strides up to the woman and presents her with a poster, written in a creole of Aquan and Gnomish. It seems to be a "have you seen this person"-type poster.
The person depicted, a young triton woman, looks very well off. She wears fine clothes and a cheerful grin.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
It produces four more posters. Pirates, they appear to be.
"Mussst... Fiiiiiinnnd..." the machine creaks.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
The door opens to the touch of what seems to be a shadow, until you see the long hair tied in a ponytail, the grey skin covering a skeletal frame, and the piercing red eyes. Her brown pilot suit is covered with blood. She drags one of the ruffians that just left inside, her shadow closing the door behind her. She goes to the bar and says to the woman while lifting the barely conscious ruffian to eye level, “Was this man bothering you?”
Hi, I’m DrakenBrine, here’s my Sig and characters
I am The Grand Envisioner!
Flynn. T. Skiller asks the tortle who he is
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“Fine. I’ll have the strongest glass of ale you got.” She drops the ruffian, letting him lay on the floor in pain.
Hi, I’m DrakenBrine, here’s my Sig and characters
I am The Grand Envisioner!
The construct, confused, sits her up in a chair. It then stands behind the bar awkwardly.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
He whispers in the old tortle's ear 'Do you know the Eighth?'
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