Not even bothering to attempt to hold the items placed in his hands, they clatter loudly to the floor (Listen check is a 6) and his breath hisses out sharply in agitation. With a vehement snap his voice raps out against the scholar, "what is it that you've seen old man?" His sharp gaze doing more avoiding than anything else (Spot check 21). He shifts uncomfortably, his back against the wall, the heat from the fire barely reaching his tall form.
Tales around the Campfire
Ac 14 Hp 6
OOC :Sorry, just finished my charsheet.
Mustafah flashes another smile at the pretty girl, pearly-white teeth gleaming in his tanned face. "Hah, you didn't think I'd get you here alive, swedety, now did you? Come over here, and we'll celebrate we're still alive. The gawking villagers have all gone, and we can relax. The drinks are on me!" Well, they're on that turnip-farmer to be quite honest, although he doesn't know. What was his name again? Willip? Wullip? Whatever. Turnip farming must pay well, considering the size of his purse. Boring little tit of a man. Does Mustafah look like he enjoys hearing about turnip planting season?
His celebrationary gestures towards the bartender suddenly stop has he watches the old man go completely bonkers. Strange, I thought I saw something there.
listen 5 spot 16
OOC :Sorry, just finished my charsheet.
Mustafah flashes another smile at the pretty girl, pearly-white teeth gleaming in his tanned face. "Hah, you didn't think I'd get you here alive, swedety, now did you? Come over here, and we'll celebrate we're still alive. The gawking villagers have all gone, and we can relax. The drinks are on me!" Well, they're on that turnip-farmer to be quite honest, although he doesn't know. What was his name again? Willip? Wullip? Whatever. Turnip farming must pay well, considering the size of his purse. Boring little tit of a man. Does Mustafah look like he enjoys hearing about turnip planting season?
His celebrationary gestures towards the bartender suddenly stop has he watches the old man go completely bonkers. Strange, I thought I saw something there.
listen 5 spot 16
doghead
thotd
Hella.
Hella is all but asleep with her eyes open when the clatter of dropped mugs brings her back to this world. She blinks sleepily as the scholar puts one then another mug into her hands. He manages to pass off a third onto her before she wakes up enough to shake her head.
She turns and carefully places the collection of mugs on the bench beside her. Then she looks back up to see what the old man is on about.
ooc: Listen 14. Spot 4.
Hella is all but asleep with her eyes open when the clatter of dropped mugs brings her back to this world. She blinks sleepily as the scholar puts one then another mug into her hands. He manages to pass off a third onto her before she wakes up enough to shake her head.
She turns and carefully places the collection of mugs on the bench beside her. Then she looks back up to see what the old man is on about.
ooc: Listen 14. Spot 4.
WizWrm
First Post
Elial nods. "Thank you, Sharra." Glancing down to the dressed cut on his shoulder, he extends his arm and rotates it about experimentally. He winces slightly, then slowly lowers his arm to a relaxed position. "Well, it stings a bit, but I must say, I rather expected that. Sign of a good clean wound. Thanks again."
He returns his attention to the table, but suddenly tenses in response to a flurry of movement in the corner. Elial leaps to his feet as the scholar rushes over to the table, only to have a pile of ceramic kitchenware shoved into his arms. He narrows his eyes. "Careful there, good fellow. What did you want, exactly?"
Spot 11, Listen 7
He returns his attention to the table, but suddenly tenses in response to a flurry of movement in the corner. Elial leaps to his feet as the scholar rushes over to the table, only to have a pile of ceramic kitchenware shoved into his arms. He narrows his eyes. "Careful there, good fellow. What did you want, exactly?"
Spot 11, Listen 7
Sparky
Registered User
The girl blinks and smiles weakly at Mustafah’s offer. She has had very little to drink and even less to eat. She seems about to reply when the scholar’s outburst brings her to her feet. She rushes to his side at the table and peers confusedly at the dark, nearly black, wood. She looks back and forth rapidly between the scholar’s face and the table, confusion creasing her brow.
Kennet winces as the crockery crashes to the floor; he swiftly collects the plates at Slate’s feet and others stacking up on benches and nearby tables. He flinches away from an outflung arm as the scholar whirls by and moves off near the door to the kitchen just as it opens.
Sharra hustles back into the common room, her brow creased with a scowl, “Now you all, I won’t ha—“ she pauses finger in mid-wag as she watches the scholar caper around the room, “—ve any… one... Kennet, what in Jondal’s name is going on here?”
The assistant’s shoulders slump and she sighs, “I apologize for my Master’s behavior,” her gaze follows the man across the room, but her voice is pitched to those gathered around the table. “He has been… erratic for some time now. It’s the work--” Her voice breaks and her hands clench and unclench, “It’s killing him.” Tears well in her eyes as she speaks, “He’s so close. But it’s… it’s eating him.”
The grizzled man reels back to the table planting his hands far apart, “What did I see?” He peers at Slate, “This,” He waves his hand dramatically over the table, which for all his theatrics looks pretty much like a table.
Slate and Mustafah:
”What do I want?” He smiles down at the dwarf, eyes looking at some point far beyond the sturdy dwarf’s head and nods. “I want you all to place your left hands on this table, palms down. Quickly now. No gloves.” His voice has a bark of authority to it. He counts the people at the table and turns to Stumbin, “All of you!”
As eyes turn toward Stumbin, the stocky man is staring out of the north facing window, jaw hanging open, face ashen, lips moving in a whispered mantra over and over as he clasps the iron symbol around his neck.
“…is my shield, I will not falter… …Her will is my shield, I will not falter… Her will is my shield, I will not falter…”
What do you do?
Kennet winces as the crockery crashes to the floor; he swiftly collects the plates at Slate’s feet and others stacking up on benches and nearby tables. He flinches away from an outflung arm as the scholar whirls by and moves off near the door to the kitchen just as it opens.
Sharra hustles back into the common room, her brow creased with a scowl, “Now you all, I won’t ha—“ she pauses finger in mid-wag as she watches the scholar caper around the room, “—ve any… one... Kennet, what in Jondal’s name is going on here?”
The assistant’s shoulders slump and she sighs, “I apologize for my Master’s behavior,” her gaze follows the man across the room, but her voice is pitched to those gathered around the table. “He has been… erratic for some time now. It’s the work--” Her voice breaks and her hands clench and unclench, “It’s killing him.” Tears well in her eyes as she speaks, “He’s so close. But it’s… it’s eating him.”
The grizzled man reels back to the table planting his hands far apart, “What did I see?” He peers at Slate, “This,” He waves his hand dramatically over the table, which for all his theatrics looks pretty much like a table.
Slate and Mustafah:
As the man’s hand passes over the table, runic script carved into the surface of the table appears and disappears swiftly.
”What do I want?” He smiles down at the dwarf, eyes looking at some point far beyond the sturdy dwarf’s head and nods. “I want you all to place your left hands on this table, palms down. Quickly now. No gloves.” His voice has a bark of authority to it. He counts the people at the table and turns to Stumbin, “All of you!”
As eyes turn toward Stumbin, the stocky man is staring out of the north facing window, jaw hanging open, face ashen, lips moving in a whispered mantra over and over as he clasps the iron symbol around his neck.
“…is my shield, I will not falter… …Her will is my shield, I will not falter… Her will is my shield, I will not falter…”
What do you do?
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Mustafah
"Are you allright, O-scythe-wielding-one?" Mustafah says as he first looks at Stumbin, then out of the window, trying to see whatever it is that startled the priest. "Here, have a drink. You need to relax. Might as well put down the scythe, harvesting season isn't here yet for another few months." and the way you chop off heads with that thing is just a bit too much for me to feel comfortable with being in the same room as you when you look like you're losing it.
Ooh , looks like the nutty professor is passing briefly through reality again. Work eating at him? If I were a religious man I'd be worrying. Who am I kidding, I am worrying allready.
"Aaah, fair lady, do not be distressed. Great minds can be so preoccupied that their behaviour seems erratical to those of lesser abilities. Erratic? The guy's a total loonatic. Poo-poo in the head.A few bricks short of a load. A few bricks short of a few bricks, really. But tell us, please, what is he working on? We've been risking our lives to get you hear, fearing no wounds to our mortal coils." as he points to the bandages. "We might be able to help you take care of him." Diplomacy 11 Bluff 18.
"Put our hand on the table? What for, if I may ask? I'm very attached to my hands, and they look fine as they are" Mustafah says with a polite smile, gesticulating with his left hand, flapping it as to show it is firmly attached, while his right hand eases his rapier in its scabbard and then palms a throwing dagger. Sleight of hands 10
"Are you allright, O-scythe-wielding-one?" Mustafah says as he first looks at Stumbin, then out of the window, trying to see whatever it is that startled the priest. "Here, have a drink. You need to relax. Might as well put down the scythe, harvesting season isn't here yet for another few months." and the way you chop off heads with that thing is just a bit too much for me to feel comfortable with being in the same room as you when you look like you're losing it.
Ooh , looks like the nutty professor is passing briefly through reality again. Work eating at him? If I were a religious man I'd be worrying. Who am I kidding, I am worrying allready.
"Aaah, fair lady, do not be distressed. Great minds can be so preoccupied that their behaviour seems erratical to those of lesser abilities. Erratic? The guy's a total loonatic. Poo-poo in the head.A few bricks short of a load. A few bricks short of a few bricks, really. But tell us, please, what is he working on? We've been risking our lives to get you hear, fearing no wounds to our mortal coils." as he points to the bandages. "We might be able to help you take care of him." Diplomacy 11 Bluff 18.
"Put our hand on the table? What for, if I may ask? I'm very attached to my hands, and they look fine as they are" Mustafah says with a polite smile, gesticulating with his left hand, flapping it as to show it is firmly attached, while his right hand eases his rapier in its scabbard and then palms a throwing dagger. Sleight of hands 10
doghead
thotd
Hella
Hella climbs to her feet on the bench and looks down on the table. But for the life of her she can't see what it is that the old man is on about. Stumbin, in her opinion is more of a concern right now. She tries to follow his gaze to see what it is that has frightened? the man so.
Hella looks across to the other side of the room. Dross lies quietly beside her pile of gear, as he was taught and told to, but the hackles of the huge dog are raised. Hella considers the greatsword that lies beside the dog, but decides against going for it at this point.
Her dark eyes flicker back across the room. Mustafah. Slate. Elial. Stumbin. The relaxed good cheer of a moment ago has gone. Everybody seems agitated to some degree. But still she can't see anything that might be cause trouble. Her hand lightly touches the axe at her belt however, reassuring herself that it is there.
Hella climbs to her feet on the bench and looks down on the table. But for the life of her she can't see what it is that the old man is on about. Stumbin, in her opinion is more of a concern right now. She tries to follow his gaze to see what it is that has frightened? the man so.
Hella looks across to the other side of the room. Dross lies quietly beside her pile of gear, as he was taught and told to, but the hackles of the huge dog are raised. Hella considers the greatsword that lies beside the dog, but decides against going for it at this point.
Her dark eyes flicker back across the room. Mustafah. Slate. Elial. Stumbin. The relaxed good cheer of a moment ago has gone. Everybody seems agitated to some degree. But still she can't see anything that might be cause trouble. Her hand lightly touches the axe at her belt however, reassuring herself that it is there.
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Slate's gaze courses about the room, his dark eyes resting heavily upon the mumbling scythe-wielder. With a shrug the spiked chain around his neck rattles with dreadful reassurance. Not taking his eyes off of Stumbin, his mouth turns into a snarl as Mustafah rattles off his mouth to the young lass. "Mind your advances Mustafah, the girl is tired and her master a madness in his own."
doghead
thotd
Hella glances at Slate, then Mustafah, an irritable frown on her face. As if we don't have enough to think about without those two at it again. She considers saying something, but with a shake of her head, she decides to hold her peace.
She returns her attention to the weirdness in the room.
She returns her attention to the weirdness in the room.
WizWrm
First Post
Elial furrows his brow, looking about as his eyes flicker from person to person, lingering on Stumbin and the scholar before finally returning to take in the whole scene before him. He allows Kennet to remove the mugs and plates that were shoved into his hands.
"I'm not doing anything until someone tells me what the bloody hell is going on!" says Elial, stomping one foot to emphasize the point.
"I'm not doing anything until someone tells me what the bloody hell is going on!" says Elial, stomping one foot to emphasize the point.
