Macv12
First Post
Letting Alejandro take care of their charge, Shen dumps her baggage clattering to the floor and stretches her shoulders. This was a bit further than she expected to walk, but she would have looked silly if she'd gathered all her junk and then asked someone else to carry it.
At the greeting, Shen takes Daedarai's hand and shakes firmly. "No idea! Nice to meet you! My name's Shenemnenmone Tanner, that's s-h-e-n-e-m-n-e-n-m-o-n-e," - she rattles off, an obviously-practiced jumble of syllables that's never helped anyone unpack her name - "...it's an elf name, not Tanner I mean, you know. And call me Shen, though."
For a moment, her attention slips away, and she gazes with fascination across the room, trying to figure out how much of all this stuff reflects the culture of the city, and how much reflects the fact that its owner is a murderous gnome living in a hole and talking to rodents. She doesn't get invited to people's homes much, so it's always interesting to see what people use theirs for. It's been a few months since she's stayed in town, maybe five years since she sneaked into that smuggler's house, and...oh, fifty years since she visited a gnome client? That place looked nothing like this, except maybe the size. Crank-box thing was the same, too. Must be a gnome thing. But as her eyes fall on the poor man out cold in the corner, she snaps back to business.
"Oh, I never said thank you! Had a funny feeling about that guy. Seemed like having a stranger poking around kinda set'em off." Her eyes widened a bit. "Wait, is he in some secret group or something?" She couldn't help a tiny smirk creeping onto her face. "Are we in trouble?"
At the greeting, Shen takes Daedarai's hand and shakes firmly. "No idea! Nice to meet you! My name's Shenemnenmone Tanner, that's s-h-e-n-e-m-n-e-n-m-o-n-e," - she rattles off, an obviously-practiced jumble of syllables that's never helped anyone unpack her name - "...it's an elf name, not Tanner I mean, you know. And call me Shen, though."
For a moment, her attention slips away, and she gazes with fascination across the room, trying to figure out how much of all this stuff reflects the culture of the city, and how much reflects the fact that its owner is a murderous gnome living in a hole and talking to rodents. She doesn't get invited to people's homes much, so it's always interesting to see what people use theirs for. It's been a few months since she's stayed in town, maybe five years since she sneaked into that smuggler's house, and...oh, fifty years since she visited a gnome client? That place looked nothing like this, except maybe the size. Crank-box thing was the same, too. Must be a gnome thing. But as her eyes fall on the poor man out cold in the corner, she snaps back to business.
"Oh, I never said thank you! Had a funny feeling about that guy. Seemed like having a stranger poking around kinda set'em off." Her eyes widened a bit. "Wait, is he in some secret group or something?" She couldn't help a tiny smirk creeping onto her face. "Are we in trouble?"