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EB's ToEE and RttToEE Campaign - IC
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<blockquote data-quote="KahlessNestor" data-source="post: 7196857" data-attributes="member: 6801311"><p><img src="http://i68.tinypic.com/20zcwso.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></p><p></p><p>Emmyr Anvilforge hunched over his bowl of beans and spooned some into his mouth. It was decent fare, well enough for a street thug like himself. He harrumphed and wiped some sauce from his beard. Must remember to mind his manners. Lady Rebekah didn’t like it when he was...what was her word? “Uncouth.” That was it.</p><p></p><p>Speaking of the lady, Emmyr’s hard eyes softened just slightly as he looked over at the half-elven noble. He saw her listlessly toying with her food. He knew it wasn’t the standard fare she usually enjoyed, and, frankly, he was coming to enjoy himself, when allowed to eat -- no, dine -- in her company. But the fact of the matter was he was still a hard-bitten fighter from the street and could subsist on less fine dining.</p><p></p><p>Emmyr turned slightly and dug around in his pack, pulling out a cloth-wrapped package. He had been saving it for later, but for now perhaps he could bring it out.</p><p></p><p>“Milady, if yeh prefer…” the rumbled in his thick dwarven accent, pulling back the cloth just enough to show her the fresh bread, cheese, and sausage he had bought in town before they left. The cheese had been especially pricey, the best found in Enstad. “I cuildnae get a bottle o’ tha’ wine yeh liked, though,” he admitted sheepishly, as if he had committed a grave affront to her honor. “But I got me some foine dwarven ale.” He pulled the flask out of his belt.</p><p></p><p>When she stood up to inquire about the threat, Emmyr sighed. Ah, but she would make a fine-looking lady dwarf if only she had a beard!</p><p></p><p>The dwarf turned his attention back to their fireside companions. The merchant Javin seemed honest enough. Emmyr had even had to make only one threat of breaking the man’s knees to get him to allow them to ride to Homlett. That had saved Lady Rebekah some gold, though they were still running low, given the expenses of a life Lady Rebekah was used to living. He would, unfortunately, need to have a talk with her about that. Maybe in Homlett he could roust up some coin from somewhere -- or someone.</p><p></p><p>Emmyr’s sharp eye caught the wild girl staring at them, trying not to look like she was staring. He knew the look all too well, having played bodyguard to merchants and criminal bosses. He studied her. Had he taken her for granted, not assessed her threat level correctly? He ran a new mental assessment.</p><p></p><p>His gaze next turned to the other half-elf in the party, Gwylla. He wasn’t quite sure why Lady Rebekah had taken the bookish girl under her wing. Was she trying to groom Gwylla into a lady like herself? Perhaps. but then there were those jobs he couldn’t do for Lady Rebekah, like helping her with her morning toilette.</p><p></p><p>“Gaein’ t’ ruin yer bluidy eyes if yeh keep readin’ in the dark, Gwylla,” he told her. “Eat.” He snatched the book from her hands and shoved her plate into them. “Sorry, Milday,” he apologized to Rebekah for swearing. That was something he needed to work on.</p><p></p><p>Now the old woman. She was the real enigma, preaching doom and destruction and giving very little insight. Pah! He wondered if it wasn’t all some con to get Lady Rebekah to pay their way with Javin. That might be another thing to talk with Milady about tonight.</p><p></p><p>“Stop wi’ the bluidy riddles, witch,” Emmyr growled. “O’ course it matters wot kills yeh. If they dunnae eat yer, we can retrieve yer body f’r the priests. An’ I’d like t’ bluidy well know -- sorry, Milady -- sae I can prepare f’r it.”</p><p></p><p>Speaking of trouble… Emmyr’s gaze hardened as he caught the bold look the sailor gave his lady. If looks could kill, Zanword would have been disembowled, strung up by his entrails, drawn, quarters, and hanged on a pike. Alas, such violence would be frowned upon by Lady Rebekah. So Emmyr would have to wait for a more opportune time to get the half-elf alone and show him the error of his wandering eyes. Pirates liked eye patches, right? And it wasn’t like they needed their man-bits on ship.</p><p></p><p>The blue dragon creature concerned Emmyr a bit as well. He hadn’t ever seen a creature like that before. From the way he held himself and moved, Emmyr could see it was a capable fighter. Was he a danger to Milady? He was ostensibly the caravan guard, but Emmyr knew all too well how easy it was to infiltrate a caravan as a guard. He had done it often enough with The Ravens, being an inside man for them when they hit the caravan.</p><p></p><p>And then there was the final employee of Javin, the human male. Emmyr made sure the smelly vagabond got nowhere near Lady Rebekah, lest he offend her sensitive olfactories. Seriously, did the man never bathe?</p><p></p><p>Emmyr stirred and finished his beans. He would wash up when Lady Rebekah was finished. “MIlady, where d’ye wish me t’ set up yuir bedroll?” he asked. “By the fire? Or in the wagon?” He’d unload the damn thing for her, build her a comfortable fort out of the crates, Javin be damned.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="KahlessNestor, post: 7196857, member: 6801311"] [IMG]http://i68.tinypic.com/20zcwso.jpg[/IMG] Emmyr Anvilforge hunched over his bowl of beans and spooned some into his mouth. It was decent fare, well enough for a street thug like himself. He harrumphed and wiped some sauce from his beard. Must remember to mind his manners. Lady Rebekah didn’t like it when he was...what was her word? “Uncouth.” That was it. Speaking of the lady, Emmyr’s hard eyes softened just slightly as he looked over at the half-elven noble. He saw her listlessly toying with her food. He knew it wasn’t the standard fare she usually enjoyed, and, frankly, he was coming to enjoy himself, when allowed to eat -- no, dine -- in her company. But the fact of the matter was he was still a hard-bitten fighter from the street and could subsist on less fine dining. Emmyr turned slightly and dug around in his pack, pulling out a cloth-wrapped package. He had been saving it for later, but for now perhaps he could bring it out. “Milady, if yeh prefer…” the rumbled in his thick dwarven accent, pulling back the cloth just enough to show her the fresh bread, cheese, and sausage he had bought in town before they left. The cheese had been especially pricey, the best found in Enstad. “I cuildnae get a bottle o’ tha’ wine yeh liked, though,” he admitted sheepishly, as if he had committed a grave affront to her honor. “But I got me some foine dwarven ale.” He pulled the flask out of his belt. When she stood up to inquire about the threat, Emmyr sighed. Ah, but she would make a fine-looking lady dwarf if only she had a beard! The dwarf turned his attention back to their fireside companions. The merchant Javin seemed honest enough. Emmyr had even had to make only one threat of breaking the man’s knees to get him to allow them to ride to Homlett. That had saved Lady Rebekah some gold, though they were still running low, given the expenses of a life Lady Rebekah was used to living. He would, unfortunately, need to have a talk with her about that. Maybe in Homlett he could roust up some coin from somewhere -- or someone. Emmyr’s sharp eye caught the wild girl staring at them, trying not to look like she was staring. He knew the look all too well, having played bodyguard to merchants and criminal bosses. He studied her. Had he taken her for granted, not assessed her threat level correctly? He ran a new mental assessment. His gaze next turned to the other half-elf in the party, Gwylla. He wasn’t quite sure why Lady Rebekah had taken the bookish girl under her wing. Was she trying to groom Gwylla into a lady like herself? Perhaps. but then there were those jobs he couldn’t do for Lady Rebekah, like helping her with her morning toilette. “Gaein’ t’ ruin yer bluidy eyes if yeh keep readin’ in the dark, Gwylla,” he told her. “Eat.” He snatched the book from her hands and shoved her plate into them. “Sorry, Milday,” he apologized to Rebekah for swearing. That was something he needed to work on. Now the old woman. She was the real enigma, preaching doom and destruction and giving very little insight. Pah! He wondered if it wasn’t all some con to get Lady Rebekah to pay their way with Javin. That might be another thing to talk with Milady about tonight. “Stop wi’ the bluidy riddles, witch,” Emmyr growled. “O’ course it matters wot kills yeh. If they dunnae eat yer, we can retrieve yer body f’r the priests. An’ I’d like t’ bluidy well know -- sorry, Milady -- sae I can prepare f’r it.” Speaking of trouble… Emmyr’s gaze hardened as he caught the bold look the sailor gave his lady. If looks could kill, Zanword would have been disembowled, strung up by his entrails, drawn, quarters, and hanged on a pike. Alas, such violence would be frowned upon by Lady Rebekah. So Emmyr would have to wait for a more opportune time to get the half-elf alone and show him the error of his wandering eyes. Pirates liked eye patches, right? And it wasn’t like they needed their man-bits on ship. The blue dragon creature concerned Emmyr a bit as well. He hadn’t ever seen a creature like that before. From the way he held himself and moved, Emmyr could see it was a capable fighter. Was he a danger to Milady? He was ostensibly the caravan guard, but Emmyr knew all too well how easy it was to infiltrate a caravan as a guard. He had done it often enough with The Ravens, being an inside man for them when they hit the caravan. And then there was the final employee of Javin, the human male. Emmyr made sure the smelly vagabond got nowhere near Lady Rebekah, lest he offend her sensitive olfactories. Seriously, did the man never bathe? Emmyr stirred and finished his beans. He would wash up when Lady Rebekah was finished. “MIlady, where d’ye wish me t’ set up yuir bedroll?” he asked. “By the fire? Or in the wagon?” He’d unload the damn thing for her, build her a comfortable fort out of the crates, Javin be damned. [/QUOTE]
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