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(Casual D&D III) The Man in Black
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<blockquote data-quote="Sparky" data-source="post: 1762208" data-attributes="member: 13681"><p><span style="font-size: 10px">Oliver looks puzzled to see the elf and his bushy brows furrow. <em><span style="color: darkslategray">How in the...?</span></em> He squints suspiciously and looks up for the man who'd guided them to this dark and inebriated encounter. He keeps a watchful eye on the proceedings, and makes a brief warding gesture when Shavah speaks of Hextor. He puts his hand on her arm. Something about Aerda's appearance makes the Oliver uneasy. Too much of coincidence weaving the lives of this fellowship together. Too much coincidence or too much meddling of gods and demons. </span></p><p> <span style="font-size: 10px"></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 10px"><span style="color: teal">"Don't think we were properly introduced at the 'Horde. Oliver."</span> The old man nods a tight greeting to the mysterious elf, but still can't help but look admiringly at the regal bird.</span></p><p> <span style="font-size: 10px"></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 10px">***********</span></p><p> <span style="font-size: 10px"></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 10px">Oliver wakes early but doesn't come down until most are half through their meals. His eyes are shadowed and his step unsteady. His eyes are shiny and bright and the pale skin around his eyes blotched and red. </span></p><p> <span style="font-size: 10px"></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 10px">He sniffs loudly a runny nose, <span style="color: teal">"Think I'm coming down with something. Again."</span> He sits carefully, knees popping. His hands go through their swift and subtle check of blades and pouches and buttoned flies. </span></p><p> <span style="font-size: 10px"></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 10px">He eats quickly, watching the verbal sparring at the table and the various moods as they fly and flicker about. <em><span style="color: teal">Good, tension keeps us sharp.</span></em> He looks at the elf, an appraising look in his eye.<em> <span style="color: teal">And mistrust sharper.</span> </em>He nods to Raven's questions, around a mouthful of crusty bread he manages, "<span style="color: teal">Yeph, I haf som 'tuff 'at 'eeds,"</span> He pauses, swallowing properly and clears his throat. <span style="color: teal">"...some stuff that needs seeing to. Come up and get me when you're ready to leave."</span> He coughs and his eyes redden, tearing up. <span style="color: teal">"Dammit. Just got over the last miserable..."</span> He stands, creaking joints and all, and hustles upstairs to feed Winkle, muttering darkly to himself.</span></p><p> <span style="font-size: 10px"></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 10px">He passes Fendric on his way up and the half-elf's keen ears <em>think</em> they may have discerned a greeting.</span></p><p> <span style="font-size: 10px"></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 10px"></span><span style="font-size: 9px">OOC: Out of town until late Monday.</span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Sparky, post: 1762208, member: 13681"] [size=2]Oliver looks puzzled to see the elf and his bushy brows furrow. [i][color=darkslategray]How in the...?[/color][/i] He squints suspiciously and looks up for the man who'd guided them to this dark and inebriated encounter. He keeps a watchful eye on the proceedings, and makes a brief warding gesture when Shavah speaks of Hextor. He puts his hand on her arm. Something about Aerda's appearance makes the Oliver uneasy. Too much of coincidence weaving the lives of this fellowship together. Too much coincidence or too much meddling of gods and demons. [color=teal]"Don't think we were properly introduced at the 'Horde. Oliver."[/color] The old man nods a tight greeting to the mysterious elf, but still can't help but look admiringly at the regal bird. *********** Oliver wakes early but doesn't come down until most are half through their meals. His eyes are shadowed and his step unsteady. His eyes are shiny and bright and the pale skin around his eyes blotched and red. He sniffs loudly a runny nose, [color=teal]"Think I'm coming down with something. Again."[/color] He sits carefully, knees popping. His hands go through their swift and subtle check of blades and pouches and buttoned flies. He eats quickly, watching the verbal sparring at the table and the various moods as they fly and flicker about. [i][color=teal]Good, tension keeps us sharp.[/color][/i] He looks at the elf, an appraising look in his eye.[i] [color=teal]And mistrust sharper.[/color] [/i]He nods to Raven's questions, around a mouthful of crusty bread he manages, "[color=teal]Yeph, I haf som 'tuff 'at 'eeds,"[/color] He pauses, swallowing properly and clears his throat. [color=teal]"...some stuff that needs seeing to. Come up and get me when you're ready to leave."[/color] He coughs and his eyes redden, tearing up. [color=teal]"Dammit. Just got over the last miserable..."[/color] He stands, creaking joints and all, and hustles upstairs to feed Winkle, muttering darkly to himself. He passes Fendric on his way up and the half-elf's keen ears [i]think[/i] they may have discerned a greeting. [/size][size=1]OOC: Out of town until late Monday.[/size] [/QUOTE]
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