(Casual D&D II) The Fellowship of the White Dove
Guilt Puppy
First Post
Mr. Shifty seems to notice Hiritus and Oliver's attention, and shortly grabs his belongings, drops some coin on the table, and makes his way downstairs. Oliver notices, no doubt, that his gaze stays with your group.
"Shavah's words got me on guard," Hiritus comments, leaning in toward Oliver. "And while evil pollutes this place, his was focused on us. I was just being watchful."
"Shavah's words got me on guard," Hiritus comments, leaning in toward Oliver. "And while evil pollutes this place, his was focused on us. I was just being watchful."
Sparky
Registered User
Oliver snaps the lute-case shut and looks Hirtius plain in the eye, "Wait... Evil or evil?" The capital 'e' should be plain to Hirtius "Should we follow him, you and I?"
After the lute is secure the old-man's hands do their routine flicker over his body checking weapons and pouches. He shifts his weight back, ready to stand and makes a face as he catches a whiff of himself. Whew! Fendric wasn't speaking idly. Really should head back to the baths myself. He grins.
After the lute is secure the old-man's hands do their routine flicker over his body checking weapons and pouches. He shifts his weight back, ready to stand and makes a face as he catches a whiff of himself. Whew! Fendric wasn't speaking idly. Really should head back to the baths myself. He grins.
Last edited:
Guilt Puppy
First Post
Weapons and pouches are all in their right order; Hiritus waves off the thought of following the man, but remains eagle-eyed behind the party.
(Note, still no reliable internet access, but I'm ready to move on to the next morning if you are. It'll just be slow posting for a while.)
(Note, still no reliable internet access, but I'm ready to move on to the next morning if you are. It'll just be slow posting for a while.)
Raven enloys himself dancing with Shavah to the lively music. He relaxes as much as he dares, drinking not to excess but enough to feel it. He'll try to cheer up Shavah, knowing that once in a while evryone needs to unwind. In the early hours of the morning he walks up to his room and sleeps untill noon, unless someone is rash enough to wake him before that.
As the night wears on, people start to leave. After a while the fellowship are the only ones left. The innkeeper has started to clean up in the vain hope that this subtle hint might convince them to go to bed. Resisting his futile attempts, Raven threw another log on the fire and is currently easing in front of the fireplacen sitting next to nurthk and shavah. He has passed the acute stage of drunkenness and is currently nursing his ale, enjoying the warm glow of the fireplace and puffing his pipe. The conversation waxes and wanes, as people start the process of becoming friends, by sharing tales of past experiences. trying to get to know each other, their background, the reasons of why they're doing the things they do,accompagnied by the sweet music of niccolo as the little gnome plays for his own amusement, to entertain himself and his friends , and not to please a big crowd, pausing only to have a drink or to relight his pipe.
As the conversation turns to their respective youths, Raven takes a deep draught from his pipe and starts telling about his homeland, the highlands of the north. As the tale progresses his accent, wich is fairly vague most of the time, grows thicker and thicker as his eyes take on a faraway look. He tells of his mountain glade, where he lived with his brother, who had a small farm. From an early age on it was clear that he wsn't fit for a farmers live, and loved to roam the wild hills and mountains, and the deep forests. He talks of the majestic stags in the woods, the pure mountain streams, the splendid outdoors with pride in his voice. His brother inherited the small farm when their father died. and married the daughter of the clanchief. Raven stayed with them whenever he came back from his hunting and trapping, supplementing their income by selling the pelts. He speaks of the happiness of his brother when a son was born, and how he learned him to hunt, the pranks they pulled, and the misschief only a bachelor uncle can teach a nephew. The pride and love in his voice when he talks about the boy is crystal clear. Only those that remain a bit more sober hear the anguish of loss in his voice, and note that he speaks in the past tense only. After that, he stops talking, lost in tought, and gives a sign for the next to continue the tales.
OOC : this is both a bump and an invitation to those that feel called to tell a bit 'bout their character, it seems both we and our characters have a bit of time to kill.
As the conversation turns to their respective youths, Raven takes a deep draught from his pipe and starts telling about his homeland, the highlands of the north. As the tale progresses his accent, wich is fairly vague most of the time, grows thicker and thicker as his eyes take on a faraway look. He tells of his mountain glade, where he lived with his brother, who had a small farm. From an early age on it was clear that he wsn't fit for a farmers live, and loved to roam the wild hills and mountains, and the deep forests. He talks of the majestic stags in the woods, the pure mountain streams, the splendid outdoors with pride in his voice. His brother inherited the small farm when their father died. and married the daughter of the clanchief. Raven stayed with them whenever he came back from his hunting and trapping, supplementing their income by selling the pelts. He speaks of the happiness of his brother when a son was born, and how he learned him to hunt, the pranks they pulled, and the misschief only a bachelor uncle can teach a nephew. The pride and love in his voice when he talks about the boy is crystal clear. Only those that remain a bit more sober hear the anguish of loss in his voice, and note that he speaks in the past tense only. After that, he stops talking, lost in tought, and gives a sign for the next to continue the tales.
OOC : this is both a bump and an invitation to those that feel called to tell a bit 'bout their character, it seems both we and our characters have a bit of time to kill.
Last edited:
dpdx
Explorer
Fendric arises from his bath, having found the washroom empty, and hearing his comrades continue to talk downstairs, puts on his clothes and armor, then moves to join them.
"Nothing for me, thank you..." Fendric says as he walks past the bartender. In return, the bartender looks at Fendric with a face devoid of expression, as he dries out the inside of an ale stein with a rag ill-suited for the purpose.
Catching the last bit of Raven's life story, Fendric takes a seat and listens around in case anyone else is as forthcoming with their details. When an appropriate lull in the conversation presents itself, Fendric looks around the table and speaks:
I wish to apologize for threatening to root you out of this comfort tonight, May Pelor Forgive Me. In my zeal to complete the mission, I overlooked the danger a city like this could produce, and that is a mistake that could have gotten many of us killed, had I followed through with it. Were it not for Hiritus, pulling me back from the brink of my own folly, I should have much more to answer for than for merely interrupting your revelry. But you have earned that as well, and so I shall attempt to consider our environment a little more carefully before I next hurry everyone else along..."
Fendric sinks back in his chair, unburdened.
"Nothing for me, thank you..." Fendric says as he walks past the bartender. In return, the bartender looks at Fendric with a face devoid of expression, as he dries out the inside of an ale stein with a rag ill-suited for the purpose.
Catching the last bit of Raven's life story, Fendric takes a seat and listens around in case anyone else is as forthcoming with their details. When an appropriate lull in the conversation presents itself, Fendric looks around the table and speaks:
I wish to apologize for threatening to root you out of this comfort tonight, May Pelor Forgive Me. In my zeal to complete the mission, I overlooked the danger a city like this could produce, and that is a mistake that could have gotten many of us killed, had I followed through with it. Were it not for Hiritus, pulling me back from the brink of my own folly, I should have much more to answer for than for merely interrupting your revelry. But you have earned that as well, and so I shall attempt to consider our environment a little more carefully before I next hurry everyone else along..."
Fendric sinks back in his chair, unburdened.
Sparky
Registered User
Oliver desperately wants a bath, but won't let the man at the bar out of his sights... Is he really drinking water? Here? Did he just order another... Oliver reeks and he knows it, he is tired and feels it, but now that Mr. Shifty is gone, there's only one suspicious character here... this water sipping man has become Ollie's number one persona non grata. He has the knobby-handed lutist's full attention.
Oliver plays along with Niccolo admiring the Gnome's greater facility and playing harmonies and supporting Niccolo's more complex melodies with rhythmic strumming and a rare vocalization. He watches Raven closely as the man dicusses happier times that are gone forever. We are more alike than appearance might suggest, Raven of clan Cwdmyr. He smiles tightly at Raven, grief shared in a glance.
He rolls his eyes at Fendric's long-winded apology and claps the young priest on his shoulder, "Sit down lad, no apologies necessary. Especially since I didn't hare off after you lot." He shakes his head and makes a show of turning the tuning pegs of his lute. He hisses cussing a blue streak and sucks the tip of his finger.
"Dammit, woman! Has there not been enough misery between us?!" He seems to be addressing the darkly gleaming lute in his lap.
Oliver plays along with Niccolo admiring the Gnome's greater facility and playing harmonies and supporting Niccolo's more complex melodies with rhythmic strumming and a rare vocalization. He watches Raven closely as the man dicusses happier times that are gone forever. We are more alike than appearance might suggest, Raven of clan Cwdmyr. He smiles tightly at Raven, grief shared in a glance.
He rolls his eyes at Fendric's long-winded apology and claps the young priest on his shoulder, "Sit down lad, no apologies necessary. Especially since I didn't hare off after you lot." He shakes his head and makes a show of turning the tuning pegs of his lute. He hisses cussing a blue streak and sucks the tip of his finger.
"Dammit, woman! Has there not been enough misery between us?!" He seems to be addressing the darkly gleaming lute in his lap.
Last edited:
Similar Threads
