[D&D 3.5/Eberron] A Quick One While He's Away

[MadMaxim]

"Excellent idea, Rawhide! I never thought about that." He pads the shifter on the shoulder and smiles. "If we get to go as guards, please try to restrain yourself from cracking people's skulls even if they're not nice to you, okay?" He whispers to Rawhide.

 

[Knight Otu]

"Yes, I think we should be able to help out."

 

[Ashy]

"Excellent idea, Rawhide! I never thought about that." He pads the shifter on the shoulder and smiles. "If we get to go as guards, please try to restrain yourself from cracking people's skulls even if they're not nice to you, okay?" He whispers to Rawhide.

Rawhide looks taken aback. You are not sure if it is because he actually had an idea or that he is hurt that Gannon would think he would hurt folks without reason. "Mes no hurt nobodys 'less theys hurts mes first." He smiles a weak smile...

 

[MadMaxim]

"Sorry, if I offended you, Rawhide... It's just that... When you get mad at someone or something you get REALLY mad, you know? I don't think of you as a liability." He starts to realize that perhaps it wasn't the best idea to give Rawhide something like this to worry about. Shifters are so complicated yet so simple in their ways of thinking, just like humans...

 

[Ashy]

The shifter screws his face up and then squints his eyes as if he is thinking really, really hard. Finally, he replies, "No. Mes not know. When Rawhide gets mad mes not know what happens - all mes see is whiteness and alls mes feels is hotness. Then, later, mes not mad anymore..." He shrugs, as if the explanation is as simple as he can possibly make it.

 

[Old Fezziwig]

Plonk: The room is fairly unexciting and the only things of interest are the ledgers and the half-elf's notes, both of which are written in a sort of code.

Everyone: As Rawhide explains his blackouts (whiteouts?), the half-elf returns, leaving the door open behind her. As he trails off, she coughs slightly. "Jorune's here, and he'd like to talk to the group of you. If you'll follow me..." She heads through the doorway.

Following her, you see that the back hall leads deep into the cliff-face at a slight slope before opening up into a large maze of offices and storerooms. Torches hang from sconces at regular intervals, casting light and shadow over the masonry walls. Half-elves move through the corridors at regular intervals, carrying satchels, ledgers, tomes, and various apparati (spyglasses, gyroscopes, and astrolabes).

After a short while, she brings you to an open door. In the office behind the door, an older half-elf, white-bearded and muscular, stands behind a desk, carefully studying a small almanac. He closes the book when he hears your guide emit a small cough. Seeing her, he nods and waves her away with his hand. She curtseys and leaves as he ushers you in.

"Ho ho! Ah, me boys. Jorune d'Lyrandar at your service. I understand that you're looking for a bit of work, a touch of labor, the salt air in your lungs and the brine of the deep in your hands." He smirks. "Or, at least, a bit of the rough and tumble, eh? Oh ho! Here —" he tosses a small scroll to Flawed "— a contract. You serve as guards over to Xen'drik, we give you a substantial discount, more than fifty percent! It's all on that paper, me lads. So, what do you think?"

 

[Krug]

"We work and still have to pay?" mutters Plonk softly. He tries to get a better view of the contract.

 

[Knight Otu]

Flawed, having hardly any understanding of contracts and the like looks to Gannon for guidance.

 

[Ashy]

"You feed Rawhide while mes work?" the shifter asks simply, making the "Gannon-face" at the white-bearded half-elf.

 

[Old Fezziwig]

"Food? Food, yes. It's in the contract. Um," he moves towards Flawed and searches for a passage, "here it is — 'parties in the employ of House Lyrandar shall be fed from the stores of food on the ship, as if they were members of the crew.'"