Crancy: 1d20=2, 1d20=17, 1d20=14
Frankil: 1d20=9, 1d20=16, 1d20=5
Well none of the hands are that close. You win the first by a mile. The second is a lost cause. The third, you give it your best shot (and all of your skills) but decide not to spend John's shopping money. Unfortunately, Crancy edges you out and chuckling through his moustache and cigar happily claims his winnings.
Frankil throws his hand down in frustration and thanks you both for the diverting morning, but claims he really must be getting about his business. "Nearing mid-afternoon. I really should be getting on. My thanks to you both. I will have to work on my game before toiling with you gentlemen again."
Crancy waves the poor boy off. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, young master Frank. Feel free to come by any time, I'll be happy to part yeh with yer money. heh heh." The rotund merchant melodically clinking coins between his fingers, setting the coins into neat stacks. "Johnnie boy? Care to loose some more of your silver? Ruch! 'Nuther round for us. Make it that luscious Larassal red if you have any about. Had my fill of the ale. Besides, it's a perfectly respectable hour for wine." Crancy tosses a full 15 silver in the half-orc's direction. "Keep the change my dear half-wit."
Ruch's eyes bulge slightly at the coins splayed before him (and generous tip, which you estimate must be around 3-5sp). He trundles off behind a separate standing screen emblazoned with a scene of some great mythical looking bird of white and silver soaring above pointed mountains. You hear his heavy boot-steps descending some unseen stairs.
From the clanging of pots and pans and tell tale "chop" of her cleaver into the cutting surface, you know Fammi has returned for her midday cooking. You know she'll be out front for the remainder of the day until "closing" [for the restaurant] at 9 bells.
It is now nearing 1:30 in the afternoon. You left your hideout around 10am. Somewhere in the back of your mind you have the inkling that Big John has sent Russ or the dwarf to track you down at this point.
OOC: If I'm reading your last post correctly, you have effectively lost everything you've gained in the last two rounds except for Big John's shopping money...minus the entrance fee. Are we moving on?
Frankil: 1d20=9, 1d20=16, 1d20=5
Well none of the hands are that close. You win the first by a mile. The second is a lost cause. The third, you give it your best shot (and all of your skills) but decide not to spend John's shopping money. Unfortunately, Crancy edges you out and chuckling through his moustache and cigar happily claims his winnings.
Frankil throws his hand down in frustration and thanks you both for the diverting morning, but claims he really must be getting about his business. "Nearing mid-afternoon. I really should be getting on. My thanks to you both. I will have to work on my game before toiling with you gentlemen again."
Crancy waves the poor boy off. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, young master Frank. Feel free to come by any time, I'll be happy to part yeh with yer money. heh heh." The rotund merchant melodically clinking coins between his fingers, setting the coins into neat stacks. "Johnnie boy? Care to loose some more of your silver? Ruch! 'Nuther round for us. Make it that luscious Larassal red if you have any about. Had my fill of the ale. Besides, it's a perfectly respectable hour for wine." Crancy tosses a full 15 silver in the half-orc's direction. "Keep the change my dear half-wit."
Ruch's eyes bulge slightly at the coins splayed before him (and generous tip, which you estimate must be around 3-5sp). He trundles off behind a separate standing screen emblazoned with a scene of some great mythical looking bird of white and silver soaring above pointed mountains. You hear his heavy boot-steps descending some unseen stairs.
From the clanging of pots and pans and tell tale "chop" of her cleaver into the cutting surface, you know Fammi has returned for her midday cooking. You know she'll be out front for the remainder of the day until "closing" [for the restaurant] at 9 bells.
It is now nearing 1:30 in the afternoon. You left your hideout around 10am. Somewhere in the back of your mind you have the inkling that Big John has sent Russ or the dwarf to track you down at this point.
OOC: If I'm reading your last post correctly, you have effectively lost everything you've gained in the last two rounds except for Big John's shopping money...minus the entrance fee. Are we moving on?
