"The name's Flug Sixfingers. At's a noice crossbow ya 'ave there. Partial to the short bow meself. Don't take so long ta reload. Can't punch through armor like yours, though. Sorry, 'taint loke me to ramble. Methinks this Dwarvish brew 'as gone straight ta mehead. Perchance 'ave you 'eard o any jobs 'ereaoputs?"
Balkay does nothing to help, and continues drinking as a man watching a play before him. He is more relaxed with a point of attention in the room that isn't himself.
As the lord bluders about Flug sneaks outside, finds the most expensive looking horse tied out front, unhitches it and gives it a good slap on the rump. Then he bursts noisily back into the bar.
"Oi! Whosevers got that fancy lookin horse outside, somebtieves jist made of wi 'er.
Balkay tosses a few coppers into the center of the table as a "pool" to cover the next round.
"I like this place. Get paid to do nothing."
And Balkay continues on drinking in silence.
(Side Note: I'm not setting up a prick character. Gordon, my guy has a backstory which leaves him a bit unconcerned with what happens around him. He'll help out and so forth but I wouldn't look to him for initiating actions unless they directly relate to his secret goals or he's already helping out. I'm sure at some point he has mentioned that if you end up getting a job offer that could take more people, you could throw his name in with yours. That's about as much future planning as he does.)
"They call me Flug Sixfingers, an this here is Balkay. 'E's not one o many words but I kin vouch for 'im. As to that bad buisines, yer words are kind but all I did was play a little trick on that uppity prick. Not that I ain't a man o many skills, mind ye. I believe you were sayin ya 'ad a job needin men wi skills. Me an me Balkay'd be mor'n 'appy to lend ya a 'and in exchange for mor o your coin!"
Flug glances at Balkay, shrugs, and says, "We'd be more n 'appy ta retrieve this wee trinket and as it 'appens we're ready to start this very moment. What do ya know an what do ya need o us?"
Flug shakes himself off. This requires a rehersed choreography of flamboyant movements as, fo a regular man let alone a halfling, Flug is generously endowed. He ties up the laces on his breeches and wipes a few stray drop on his hands onto his shirt. He turns around in the pitch black alley and hears a voice, lost but full of hope, "Hello?"
"Oi! Whatcha be doing back here stranger? Ya look like you can take care o yourself, all the same ya don't seem ta be from around here. Let ol Flug Sixfingers take ya under his wings. It just so happens I ave a lead on a job whot could use a pair o thick arms like yorn."
Flug leads the stranger back into the bar but stops suddenly and stares about the room as if lost.
"Now where in the blazin hells is me table an me mates....?"
Shaking my head I realize I've merely been standing in the corner of a dark alley with my head against the wall. A life of abstinence followed by weeks of drinking is more than enough to overcome my meager tolerance. When the halfling speaks I struggle to overcome the ale enough to work through his thick accent. By the time I figure out what he has said I find myself squeezing into the tavern by his side.
"Maybe this will finally give me something to live for" I attempt to mutter under my breath.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Vespasian looks for the waitress and asks if she can bring 5 legs of mutton and a keg of ale. On the way he looks around to see what he can make of the tavern he has found himself in today.
"Name's Balkay."
And I keep drinking.
Balkay shuffles anxiously, looking about the room. He isn't used to making small talk after years living alone and moving from place to place.
"The name's Flug Sixfingers. At's a noice crossbow ya 'ave there. Partial to the short bow meself. Don't take so long ta reload. Can't punch through armor like yours, though. Sorry, 'taint loke me to ramble. Methinks this Dwarvish brew 'as gone straight ta mehead. Perchance 'ave you 'eard o any jobs 'ereaoputs?"
No jobs I know of. Yet.
Balkay does nothing to help, and continues drinking as a man watching a play before him. He is more relaxed with a point of attention in the room that isn't himself.
As the lord bluders about Flug sneaks outside, finds the most expensive looking horse tied out front, unhitches it and gives it a good slap on the rump. Then he bursts noisily back into the bar.
"Oi! Whosevers got that fancy lookin horse outside, somebtieves jist made of wi 'er.
Balkay tosses a few coppers into the center of the table as a "pool" to cover the next round.
"I like this place. Get paid to do nothing."
And Balkay continues on drinking in silence.
(Side Note: I'm not setting up a prick character. Gordon, my guy has a backstory which leaves him a bit unconcerned with what happens around him. He'll help out and so forth but I wouldn't look to him for initiating actions unless they directly relate to his secret goals or he's already helping out. I'm sure at some point he has mentioned that if you end up getting a job offer that could take more people, you could throw his name in with yours. That's about as much future planning as he does.)
"Com an 'ave a sit down me sweet smellin friend!"
Flug adds some coins to the pool.
"They call me Flug Sixfingers, an this here is Balkay. 'E's not one o many words but I kin vouch for 'im. As to that bad buisines, yer words are kind but all I did was play a little trick on that uppity prick. Not that I ain't a man o many skills, mind ye. I believe you were sayin ya 'ad a job needin men wi skills. Me an me Balkay'd be mor'n 'appy to lend ya a 'and in exchange for mor o your coin!"
Flug glances at Balkay, shrugs, and says, "We'd be more n 'appy ta retrieve this wee trinket and as it 'appens we're ready to start this very moment. What do ya know an what do ya need o us?"
Hello? I say into the darkness of the void hoping against hope that this time.... This one time.... Someone will answer
Flug shakes himself off. This requires a rehersed choreography of flamboyant movements as, fo a regular man let alone a halfling, Flug is generously endowed. He ties up the laces on his breeches and wipes a few stray drop on his hands onto his shirt. He turns around in the pitch black alley and hears a voice, lost but full of hope, "Hello?"
"Oi! Whatcha be doing back here stranger? Ya look like you can take care o yourself, all the same ya don't seem ta be from around here. Let ol Flug Sixfingers take ya under his wings. It just so happens I ave a lead on a job whot could use a pair o thick arms like yorn."
Flug leads the stranger back into the bar but stops suddenly and stares about the room as if lost.
"Now where in the blazin hells is me table an me mates....?"
Shaking my head I realize I've merely been standing in the corner of a dark alley with my head against the wall. A life of abstinence followed by weeks of drinking is more than enough to overcome my meager tolerance. When the halfling speaks I struggle to overcome the ale enough to work through his thick accent. By the time I figure out what he has said I find myself squeezing into the tavern by his side.
"Maybe this will finally give me something to live for" I attempt to mutter under my breath.
Outside of game I have a couple questions/statements
1.) Thanks for the invite!
2.) How do rolls work? Will you ask for a roll or do it yourself and give us the result?
3.) How much leeway are we allowed to narrate? Do you want us to just say actions and you will narrate the story from there?
There should be a die button on the far right of the posting box then choose your die and modifier and the result will show with your post.
Ex: Flug grabs a handful of nuts from the bar and tosses them into the air, attempting to catch them in his mouth.
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Vespasian looks for the waitress and asks if she can bring 5 legs of mutton and a keg of ale. On the way he looks around to see what he can make of the tavern he has found himself in today.
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