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Clubhouse: The Shearing Pen
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<blockquote data-quote="GuardianLurker" data-source="post: 2269933" data-attributes="member: 786"><p><strong>Ic</strong></p><p></p><p>As the dim presence is watching one of his sponsored combats intently you see him jerk alert to an unknown signal. He seems to grab something from his waist and tilt his head in conversation, though you hear not a word. He then gets up and walks quickly to the host's podium. He has a brief conversation, the leaves the club. The host shortly thereafter posts a notice on the announcement board - "Sponsor needed for Celestial Arena, enquire at desk."</p><p></p><p>In the pit, the scholar finishes his work. "Kelzwick! Kelzwick!" His below reaches the ears of the short, large-nosed humanoid at the bar who finishes his drink, then stumbles back to his employer. "Ah. There you are. Pack this up; I've learned enough to make my presentation to the Guild. Disappointing really. While the forces of evil seem to have an edge over the forces of good in sheer numbers, it seems to be mostly offset by good's slight power advantage. But both of these pale before the forces of the natural world. Everything seems to be in balance, with no advantage given or taken. Any could win the game. Any could lose it. If I was a betting man, I'd stick around, as it should get quite intense at times." He pauses for a breath. "But we must be off - the Guild likes their pretty pictures and that takes time." The scholar strides confidently out the door, never noticing the weaving, stumbling, near-toppling walk of his henchman and his library. But the henchman makes it safely to and out the door.</p><p></p><p>The gnome Alem looks up. <em>I am a betting man</em>, he thinks, <em>especially when the marks make themselves as obvious as that halfling.</em> He stops, takes another sip of his dwarf-sized beer, and continues thinking to himself. <em>But I don't have nearly the bankroll I pretended (Of course, what's the point otherwise?) and I don't think the more powerful demons are going to be fooled by my Major Image fakery. I also don't think I'd enjoy what would happen if I lost a bet to those folks. It's a little to rich for my tastes, so I think I'll try less dangerous environs.</em> Alem takes a final deep drink of the beer, wipes his mouth, and strolls out the clubhouse doors.</p><p></p><p>======</p><p>I've got to go. </p><p></p><p>Hope you all have fun in the clubhouse.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="GuardianLurker, post: 2269933, member: 786"] [b]Ic[/b] As the dim presence is watching one of his sponsored combats intently you see him jerk alert to an unknown signal. He seems to grab something from his waist and tilt his head in conversation, though you hear not a word. He then gets up and walks quickly to the host's podium. He has a brief conversation, the leaves the club. The host shortly thereafter posts a notice on the announcement board - "Sponsor needed for Celestial Arena, enquire at desk." In the pit, the scholar finishes his work. "Kelzwick! Kelzwick!" His below reaches the ears of the short, large-nosed humanoid at the bar who finishes his drink, then stumbles back to his employer. "Ah. There you are. Pack this up; I've learned enough to make my presentation to the Guild. Disappointing really. While the forces of evil seem to have an edge over the forces of good in sheer numbers, it seems to be mostly offset by good's slight power advantage. But both of these pale before the forces of the natural world. Everything seems to be in balance, with no advantage given or taken. Any could win the game. Any could lose it. If I was a betting man, I'd stick around, as it should get quite intense at times." He pauses for a breath. "But we must be off - the Guild likes their pretty pictures and that takes time." The scholar strides confidently out the door, never noticing the weaving, stumbling, near-toppling walk of his henchman and his library. But the henchman makes it safely to and out the door. The gnome Alem looks up. [i]I am a betting man[/i], he thinks, [i]especially when the marks make themselves as obvious as that halfling.[/i] He stops, takes another sip of his dwarf-sized beer, and continues thinking to himself. [i]But I don't have nearly the bankroll I pretended (Of course, what's the point otherwise?) and I don't think the more powerful demons are going to be fooled by my Major Image fakery. I also don't think I'd enjoy what would happen if I lost a bet to those folks. It's a little to rich for my tastes, so I think I'll try less dangerous environs.[/i] Alem takes a final deep drink of the beer, wipes his mouth, and strolls out the clubhouse doors. ====== I've got to go. Hope you all have fun in the clubhouse. [/QUOTE]
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