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Message: <blockquote data-quote="TaranTheWanderer" data-source="post: 9365581" data-attributes="member: 15882">[SPOILER="Byron- Mini-sheet"]<table style='width: 100%'><tr><td><a href="https://www.enworld.org/threads/rg-dnd-3-5-the-flames-of-war.704457/#post-9361105" target="_blank">Byran Gre</a>ywarden Race: Human HP: 12/12 AC: 13/15 w shield</td><td>Sense_motive:+0 spot: +0 Listen: +3 Gather_Info:+4</td><td>Initiative: -1 Fort:+4 Will:+2 Reflex:-1</td></tr></table>[/SPOILER][HR][/HR]Byron listens to his assignment.  Out of town patrol was usually pretty relaxing if the weather was nice and Byron figures it'll turn into a nice day once the fog clears.  His pack is open and its contents are half-packed on the floor and he's leaning on the glaive saying hello to a few people passing by when he notices a strange fellow standing in the crowd.  He isn't sure what it is that makes the stranger stand out until he notices the ears.  An elf.  The elf.   There's only one in Grey Camp, as far as he knows....What's his name.  Eloi?  Aros?...no...Eos!  That's it. Byron has heard many rumours about elves:  they steal babies, they live in the fairy lands, they can go invisible in the forest, they are powerful magic users.  For his part, Byron never ruled out any of the rumours but neither did he believe them.  Back home, having grown up working in The Guildmaster Inn, gave him more than a few opportunities to meet elves. The Guildmaster was Upscale and foreign travellers arrived often and always had important business.  Usually the elves that stayed there were the tall sort - not the short ones - and were mostly passing through, too absorbed in whatever business had brought them there.  Sometimes it felt like they were looking down their noses at him.  Oftentimes, he felt as if he was some kind of animal next to them:  like your pet cat that you know is going to die long before you will. Once an elf came in - a jolly fellow that everyone seemed to like, scruffed up Byron's hair gave him a fun trinket as tip for good service.  He still had that trinket somewhere.As far as Byron could reckon, while the motives of elves seemed inscrutable, they were an awful lot like <s>people</s> humans: no two were exactly alike.  And, as such, you best judge them by their actions and not rumours.As for rumours about Eos, all Byron knows is he lives in the woods and works with the forresters.It occurs to Byron that he's probably been staring the entire time.  The fact that the elf starts walking towards him makes it especially uncomfortable.  He leans his glaive on the wall and starts packing his bag.Byron looks up as if he only just noticed Eos this moment,"Yes, Sir, I do.  In fact, there's no need to point him out as I'm heading in that direction.  Let me just fasten up my pack here and I can walk you down, if you like?"Byron does exactly that, then heaves the bag on his shoulder.  Swords clanging against armour as he does so.  He takes his Glaive in one hand and offers his other hand to Eos,"The name's Byron."[HR][/HR]</blockquote>

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