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The Whisperers in Darkness
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<blockquote data-quote="Desdichado" data-source="post: 2375350" data-attributes="member: 2205"><p><strong>Arlanen:</strong> <em>(easily passing a Spot check -- )</em> You feel a slight brush against you in the crowd that doesn't feel like merely casual crowding and whirl to catch a handsome young man reaching for your purse (or beltpouch, or wherever you keep your coin.) When you look at him, he freezes, smiles and shrugs apologetically, and turns away from you.</p><p></p><p><strong>Forge:</strong> You get a few rather nasty crowd jolts, and a few grimaces from the crowd. A few mutter about not needing "your kind" around here, taking jobs from hard-working, honest folk. One red-faced and leathery old dwarf in particular seems to give you the most hateful glare of them all, and keeps his eyes more on you than on the fight.</p><p></p><p><strong>Ceres:</strong> <em>(<u>Extremely</u> lucky Spot check for you, especially considering your modifier!)</em> After your exchange with the halfling, you catch a glimpse with the corner of your eye of him giving a slight nod to someone behind you. Surreptitiously glancing back, you see three grimy and scarred thugs moving discretely closer to stand not far behind you. Their attention also seems to be only halfway --if that-- on the fight.</p><p></p><p><strong>Feral:</strong> Glancing about, you see another shifter squatting leisurely on the roof of an overhang, where he can see easily without feeling crowded. He gives you a tight, mirthless smile and waves for you to join him if you care to.</p><p></p><p><strong>All:</strong> The taunting and trash-talk in the center of the square looks like it's coming to a head. The crowd is getting noisier, and the shifter lifts up his head and bellows like some kind of beast to the sky. His bare chest seems to swell somehow, as if muscles were literally forming under his skin as you watch. His teeth grow into long fangs, and his yellow wolf-like eyes burn with a predatory gleam. But the surly human is working himself into a rage as well -- throwing back a huge tankard of ale, which spills over his chin as he slams it down his throat as fast as he can. With a snarl, he throws the tankard down to the mud, his face red and his eyes bloodshot with fury. Both are now fingering their dangers and spinning them slowly in their spread hands as they circle each other warily, looking for an opportunity to make the first strike.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Desdichado, post: 2375350, member: 2205"] [b]Arlanen:[/b] [i](easily passing a Spot check -- )[/i] You feel a slight brush against you in the crowd that doesn't feel like merely casual crowding and whirl to catch a handsome young man reaching for your purse (or beltpouch, or wherever you keep your coin.) When you look at him, he freezes, smiles and shrugs apologetically, and turns away from you. [b]Forge:[/b] You get a few rather nasty crowd jolts, and a few grimaces from the crowd. A few mutter about not needing "your kind" around here, taking jobs from hard-working, honest folk. One red-faced and leathery old dwarf in particular seems to give you the most hateful glare of them all, and keeps his eyes more on you than on the fight. [b]Ceres:[/b] [i]([u]Extremely[/u] lucky Spot check for you, especially considering your modifier!)[/i] After your exchange with the halfling, you catch a glimpse with the corner of your eye of him giving a slight nod to someone behind you. Surreptitiously glancing back, you see three grimy and scarred thugs moving discretely closer to stand not far behind you. Their attention also seems to be only halfway --if that-- on the fight. [b]Feral:[/b] Glancing about, you see another shifter squatting leisurely on the roof of an overhang, where he can see easily without feeling crowded. He gives you a tight, mirthless smile and waves for you to join him if you care to. [b]All:[/b] The taunting and trash-talk in the center of the square looks like it's coming to a head. The crowd is getting noisier, and the shifter lifts up his head and bellows like some kind of beast to the sky. His bare chest seems to swell somehow, as if muscles were literally forming under his skin as you watch. His teeth grow into long fangs, and his yellow wolf-like eyes burn with a predatory gleam. But the surly human is working himself into a rage as well -- throwing back a huge tankard of ale, which spills over his chin as he slams it down his throat as fast as he can. With a snarl, he throws the tankard down to the mud, his face red and his eyes bloodshot with fury. Both are now fingering their dangers and spinning them slowly in their spread hands as they circle each other warily, looking for an opportunity to make the first strike. [/QUOTE]
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