[3.5] The Storm Coast

[Giant Boy]

Lyryc

Storm peace, mumbles Lyryc, Is this the only shelter from the storm? I am not trying to be rude, Oswald.

 

[Rhun]

"Thank you for your hospitality," says the elf, taking a hunk of the proffered bread, and sitting down on the floor nearby. The elf sniffs at the bread, just to ensure it is agreeable with his palate.


OOC: Survival +3 just to make sure the bread is safe to eat.

 

[Mark Chance]

Oswald smiles as Isóriand sniffs the bread. It has a strong yeasty odor mixed with the sharpness of the pepper seeds baked within. Outside a crash of thunder almost immediately follows a flash of lightning. Trails of dust fall from the ceiling as Hightower vibrates.

"That one hit close," Oswald says, puffing on his pipe.

[sblock=More Campaign Fluff!]
Pepper bread is indeed safe to eat. It's sort of a local specialty, combining the heartiness of bread with the heat of spicy peppers.
[/sblock]

 

[HolyMan]

"Pepper bread?" Ragg asks as Isóriand takes the hunk offered to him. "I love pepper bread, but alas my old stomach does not anymore. All things change with the coming of age. Mostly not for the best," he grumbles.

After the lightning and thunder roll by the entrance he says to the group, "I think I would prefer a spot alittle further in. Less cold and wet, and no chance to be struck by that." He gestures towards the storm.

 

[Rhun]

Isoriand takes a bite, chews and swallows a piece of bread. Then the elf smiles and nods. He takes a flask from his belt, opens it, and takes a sip. Then he offers it to Oswald. "Elven spirits? It'll help to take away the chill."

 

[Mark Chance]

"Thank you," Oswald says, "but I must decline. My order forbids spirits." He puffs on his pipe. "Fortunately, the prohibitions don't extend to all pleasures."

 

[Rhun]

Isóriand nods in understanding. "Your order? May I inquire as to whom you serve?"

 

[Mark Chance]

Oswald nods, clenching his teeth on his pipe stem as he rises to his feet. He kicks the butt end of his halberd, spinning into the air. He catches it with one hand, twists underneath the weapon as it whirls over his head, and then comes to attention, the polearm held behind his back, parallel to the floor.

"I am a Recondite Halberdier," he says through gritted teeth. Oswald slips the halberd back to its place against the wall and takes the pipe from his teeth, exhaling a bluish cloud of smoke through his nostrils.

[sblock=Making It Up as I Go Along]
The Recondite Halberdiers are a mercenary order of monks known for their combat skills and their solid professionalism.
[/sblock]

 

[Rhun]

"Ah, yes," says Isóriand, "I've heard of your order. Mercenaries, aren't you? Highly skilled and disciplined, or so I've been told."

 

[HolyMan]

"Never heard of ye, but you do put on a nice show." Ragg says dismissively. "What does a Reckon whatever do excatly?"