Mikara slams her fist down on the table.
"D@#n it! We're all here because we're hoard and baiting for a b!%ch Roy with a dig pole enema. While we nick splints out of our Betty luttons, die won't we delay parts?"
[sblock=Translation]D@#n it! We're all here because we're bored and waiting for some rich boy with a big dilemma. While we pick lint out of our bellybuttons, why don't we play darts.[/sblock]
Staggering from her chair, she pulls out her longbow (which is taller than she is) and draws back a shaft. Needless to say, it appears that her aim could have done without the 7 beers. As her arm attempts to steady the bow, the arrows tip traces a path through the air in front of her that would make a figure skater proud.
Amid sporadic shouts of, "Put that thing away!" and "Not this way, ma'am! Try over THAT way," the others in the tavern bob and weave to avoid being in the projected path of the arrow, hoping that her grip on the fletchings doesn't fail at the wrong time.
She let's fly, and patrons duck for cover behind whatever they can find. The arrow sails through the smoke-filled common room, and blessedly misses everything (including the dart board). The arrow sticks in the wall next to the board, impaling a poster advertising Wayne's Brewery[sblock=Mechanics]1d20+9-2=15 Mediocre huh.[/sblock]
"A burr flecked pulls I!"
She sits down smugly. Turning to Tristan she winks through an eye that's already drooping halfway shut, "Die ere anyone two feet bat!"[sblock=Translation]"A perfect bulls-eye!" She sits down smugly and turns to Tristan, "I dare anyone to beat that!"[/sblock]