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[IC] - TIDERULER OF MARAN
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<blockquote data-quote="Archon Basileus" data-source="post: 6904150" data-attributes="member: 6855545"><p>[MENTION=6855130]Jago[/MENTION]</p><p><span style="font-family: 'verdana'"><strong></strong></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'verdana'"><strong>“Well, IF no one else cares to join... A rotund dwarf, feeling plenty at home, drags a bad leg towards the table Reynard managed to occupy. “I’ll sum some gold o’my own and we’ll share a flagon, <em>shian</em>….” – he sits, shambling his barrel-shaped body left and right as he adapts to his seat. A heavy leather backpack falls to the side, on the floor, along with a two-faced axe, resounding against the wooden planks. Smoke comes in thick voluminous waves from a table to the left, where a party of dwarf miners plays cards and share the pipes. On the other side, closer to the large open door that leads to the windy passage where the ox cars await, three elves try to make little case of their presence, their green capes insisting in doing the opposite. Even though the place is mostly dwarves and elves, it’s not uncommon to see men or lizards as well. Nevertheless, archers from the woods are a rare sight, and not very welcome as well. </strong></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'verdana'"><strong></strong></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'verdana'"><strong>“I gotta tell you, <em>Shian</em>…” – he says, reaching for a tray that approaches, a silent dwarven girl swaying it around to place a flagon and some bread on the table – “not a regular sight one a’you hats round here, let alone two in a day…” – the firm and round dwarf serves the flagon with one hand and throws a few coins at the tray with another. “First round’s mine, <em>shian…</em>” – the word resounds in Reynard’s ears for a third time, a way used by coastal dwarves to address those adept of his traditions, human or otherwise. He heard the word plenty from the smugglers that used the caves below the burg to do business, but never up here… not until now. </strong></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'verdana'"><strong></strong></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'verdana'"><strong>“Not too shabby, not too shabby…” – he turns over his shoulders with difficulty as the dwarf girl walk away. “Go ahead, my friend, DRINK!” – he raises a quick toast – “By the way, I’m Durkas….” – and swallows half the mug in a slow, continuous stream.</strong></span></p><p></p><p><span style="color: #ff0000"><span style="font-family: 'verdana'"><em>[Ooook, let us begin… Jago, would you kindly roll a perception test?]</em></span></span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Archon Basileus, post: 6904150, member: 6855545"] [MENTION=6855130]Jago[/MENTION] [FONT=verdana][B] “Well, IF no one else cares to join... A rotund dwarf, feeling plenty at home, drags a bad leg towards the table Reynard managed to occupy. “I’ll sum some gold o’my own and we’ll share a flagon, [I]shian[/I]….” – he sits, shambling his barrel-shaped body left and right as he adapts to his seat. A heavy leather backpack falls to the side, on the floor, along with a two-faced axe, resounding against the wooden planks. Smoke comes in thick voluminous waves from a table to the left, where a party of dwarf miners plays cards and share the pipes. On the other side, closer to the large open door that leads to the windy passage where the ox cars await, three elves try to make little case of their presence, their green capes insisting in doing the opposite. Even though the place is mostly dwarves and elves, it’s not uncommon to see men or lizards as well. Nevertheless, archers from the woods are a rare sight, and not very welcome as well. “I gotta tell you, [I]Shian[/I]…” – he says, reaching for a tray that approaches, a silent dwarven girl swaying it around to place a flagon and some bread on the table – “not a regular sight one a’you hats round here, let alone two in a day…” – the firm and round dwarf serves the flagon with one hand and throws a few coins at the tray with another. “First round’s mine, [I]shian…[/I]” – the word resounds in Reynard’s ears for a third time, a way used by coastal dwarves to address those adept of his traditions, human or otherwise. He heard the word plenty from the smugglers that used the caves below the burg to do business, but never up here… not until now. “Not too shabby, not too shabby…” – he turns over his shoulders with difficulty as the dwarf girl walk away. “Go ahead, my friend, DRINK!” – he raises a quick toast – “By the way, I’m Durkas….” – and swallows half the mug in a slow, continuous stream.[/B][/FONT] [COLOR=#ff0000][FONT=verdana][I][Ooook, let us begin… Jago, would you kindly roll a perception test?][/I][/FONT][/COLOR] [/QUOTE]
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