Bob Aberton
First Post
Jonah,
Lupe frowns for a moment, but then brightens up and flashes you a toothy grin.
"Very well, we talk again when we make Port Andorra. You keep it in mind, hey?"
He gathers up the map and replaces the knife in its sheath, and walks out the door to resume his duties.
Vemuz,
You hear Lupe tell Jonah to "keep it in mind," then he strides out the door. Straight into you, in fact. The way he bounces off of your massive frame is rather amusing to see.
"Apologies, Mr. Thrice-born," he says cautiously. In his hands he is holding a tattered map and a knife that you saw on the voyage to Standishtown from Hull - the knife with the words "BLACK MAST" engraved on its hilt.
(OOC: You heard everything that was said since you first stated you were listening in.)
Malthas,
The Orcs promptly set to thrashing at each other for an hour or so. At first, they fight hesitantly, but once their fighting blood is up they set-to with a fury. All bear large collections of nicks and bruises, and most have by now cast away their cutlasses and are rolling about on the pitching deck, grappling and punching. You noticed that none had even rudimentary form with their blades, save Anansai of the Nbantii; they all used their cutlasses either as very short spears or as very sharp clubs. They are, however, formidable if untrained fighters.
Nicodemus,
"We'll talk more about this when we make port, shall we?" Weaver says, draining her last cup of tea. "Port Andorra bein' their base of operations, as it were. Thank y' for the tea."
She gets up and leaves with a cheery salute.
Lupe frowns for a moment, but then brightens up and flashes you a toothy grin.
"Very well, we talk again when we make Port Andorra. You keep it in mind, hey?"
He gathers up the map and replaces the knife in its sheath, and walks out the door to resume his duties.
Vemuz,
You hear Lupe tell Jonah to "keep it in mind," then he strides out the door. Straight into you, in fact. The way he bounces off of your massive frame is rather amusing to see.
"Apologies, Mr. Thrice-born," he says cautiously. In his hands he is holding a tattered map and a knife that you saw on the voyage to Standishtown from Hull - the knife with the words "BLACK MAST" engraved on its hilt.
(OOC: You heard everything that was said since you first stated you were listening in.)
Malthas,
The Orcs promptly set to thrashing at each other for an hour or so. At first, they fight hesitantly, but once their fighting blood is up they set-to with a fury. All bear large collections of nicks and bruises, and most have by now cast away their cutlasses and are rolling about on the pitching deck, grappling and punching. You noticed that none had even rudimentary form with their blades, save Anansai of the Nbantii; they all used their cutlasses either as very short spears or as very sharp clubs. They are, however, formidable if untrained fighters.
Nicodemus,
"We'll talk more about this when we make port, shall we?" Weaver says, draining her last cup of tea. "Port Andorra bein' their base of operations, as it were. Thank y' for the tea."
She gets up and leaves with a cheery salute.