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Post by Trailfoot on Apr 15, 2009 14:36:25 GMT -8
(You guys can continue to RP here for a bit; I'll make a plot-post later. This is for the group going to the Orc mines.)
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Post by Myridd on Apr 15, 2009 14:58:50 GMT -8
The Dragon Kissed
Ezekial looks at Quel and nods at his question about it being a long night. "I.. I just kept thinking that we might be too late. . What if something's happened to the girl?"
He than turned his eyes to Damara, a brow raised. "I wasn't aware you were coming with us. You're welcome to of course, but perhaps you should attempt to be a little less sneaky when dealing with your allies."
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Post by Shiningwolf on Apr 15, 2009 15:07:37 GMT -8
The Glove
"Well, if knowing is your business, then what do you know of orcs?"
Gavril asks the woman, once again taking out one of his books as he waits for the half-elf to eat his food.
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Bladedancer
Fighter
Our only line of defense against the return of the thylacine
Posts: 141
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Post by Bladedancer on Apr 15, 2009 16:16:35 GMT -8
Damara
"They're nasty, brutish and big." Damara stretches slowly, a lupine grace in her motions. "They die like anyone else. They also have a fondness for mining holes in the ground - crudely, but effectively."
She offers Ezekiel a playful smirk. "Besides, one has to keep to in practice somehow. You should practice keeping your eyes open, hmm?"
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Post by Shiningwolf on Apr 15, 2009 16:44:50 GMT -8
The Glove
Shaking his head, Gavril turns to a page, seemingly at random, and begins reading. Under his breathe, words can be made out that sound both similar to elven, and at the same time, completely foreign to it. Every now and then he seems to struggle with something in the book, but these moments are few and far between.
"Well, I seemed to miss this part earlier, but could you tell me your name Miss...?
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Post by Nephallim on Apr 15, 2009 18:58:35 GMT -8
The Spellsword
Quel frowns as his coffee arrives, eyeing the woman he doesn't know is called Damara carefully. He says nothing, setting his cigar aside for the hot brew and a steaming bowl of grits topped with two fried eggs and two slices of melted pepper-cheese. His gaze, however, is transparently distrustful.
"Its only been a few days Zeke," he says at length, his eyes still locked on the elven woman, "I'd wager my share of the take that she's fine. . . or at least not in any shape she can't recover from."
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Bladedancer
Fighter
Our only line of defense against the return of the thylacine
Posts: 141
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Post by Bladedancer on Apr 15, 2009 19:46:37 GMT -8
The GloveShaking his head, Gavril turns to a page, seemingly at random, and begins reading. Under his breathe, words can be made out that sound both similar to elven, and at the same time, completely foreign to it. Every now and then he seems to struggle with something in the book, but these moments are few and far between. "Well, I seemed to miss this part earlier, but could you tell me your name Miss...? "Swiftwind. Damara Swiftwind." The elven woman leans comfortably against the bar, sizing Gavril up. "It's good to see you're turning what I've no doubt are ill-gotten talents to useful work. So tell me about these slaves we're going to save?" |
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Post by Shiningwolf on Apr 15, 2009 19:54:10 GMT -8
"Swiftwind. Damara Swiftwind." The elven woman leans comfortably against the bar, sizing Gavril up. "It's good to see you're turning what I've no doubt are ill-gotten talents to useful work. So tell me about these slaves we're going to save?" Gavril looks up from his book to glance at Damara. After a moment, he lets out an uproarious laugh, clutching his stomach in pain. Anyone listening would be struck by the volume and length the laughing occurs. Several minutes pass before Gavril begins to control himself, sighing often. "Please, Miss Damara, try to not talk about what you obviously don't know of. I'm not entirely sure I can handle laughing that much." |
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Post by Nephallim on Apr 15, 2009 19:55:35 GMT -8
The Spellsword
"You're rather quick to judge, skinchanger," Quel grunts, the bowl of grits, cheese, and eggs almost half gone already, "Especially for one who levels crossbows at men you spilt blood beside."
His tone and words quite clearly betray the fact that he's still bitter about the elf's actions after the fight in the sewers. It would seem the mercenary half-elf holds a grudge.
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Bladedancer
Fighter
Our only line of defense against the return of the thylacine
Posts: 141
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Post by Bladedancer on Apr 15, 2009 20:58:52 GMT -8
The Spellsword"You're rather quick to judge, skinchanger," Quel grunts, the bowl of grits, cheese, and eggs almost half gone already, "Especially for one who levels crossbows at men you spilt blood beside." His tone and words quite clearly betray the fact that he's still bitter about the elf's actions after the fight in the sewers. It would seem the mercenary half-elf holds a grudge. "Making judgments is my profession, mercenary. Those I spill blood with no more or less than anyone else." There's no sharpness in Damara's response - if anything, she seems slightly bemused by his anger. She gives Gavril another look, this one penetrating, then curves a smile of her own. "Still, I suppose keeping to polite niceties is the civilized thing to do." The way she speaks the word suggests that, perhaps, their definition of civilized is not her highest priority. "Now, to return to the subject at hand... the slaves?" |
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Post by Nephallim on Apr 15, 2009 21:11:12 GMT -8
The Spellsword
"Right. . . you were mouthing off some nonsense about being a 'lawgiver' or 'lawkeeper' or whatnot," The half-elf mutters, "What does that even mean?" His tone is a little less heated, though not much, "And what exactly makes you think you have the right to judge anyone?"
He sets to scarfing down the rest of his breakfast as he awaits the elven woman's reply.
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Post by Shiningwolf on Apr 15, 2009 21:17:02 GMT -8
The Glove
Chuckling to himself still, Gavril resumes reading his book, though its obvious he is paying a good deal of attention to the conversation between Quel and Damara. Under his breathe he says something in the language again, though it sounds very vibrant and light this time.
(In Giant: "I had almost forgotten what dealing with people was like. Ehehe, polite necessities.")
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Bladedancer
Fighter
Our only line of defense against the return of the thylacine
Posts: 141
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Post by Bladedancer on Apr 15, 2009 21:25:19 GMT -8
The Spellsword"Right. . . you were mouthing off some nonsense about being a 'lawgiver' or 'lawkeeper' or whatnot," The half-elf mutters, "What does that even mean?" His tone is a little less heated, though not much, "And what exactly makes you think you have the right to judge anyone?" He sets to scarfing down the rest of his breakfast as he awaits the elven woman's reply. She laughs softly. "I suppose you would call my position something like Constable, or perhaps more like a Magistrate ... but with far more flexibility. I enforce the laws and settle disputes. " |
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Post by Nephallim on Apr 15, 2009 21:32:46 GMT -8
The Spellsword
"Uh huh. . ." Quel sizes the elven woman up, searching for some sort of sign that she is what she says she is, clearly skeptical.
((Insight +10, Streetwise +9 to see if he recognizes any badge or mark of position or rank. . . or to see if he's heard of what she is.))
"According to whose law?" He asks, his gaze locked on her, "You don't exactly have to travel far for the law to change."
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Post by Myridd on Apr 15, 2009 22:16:17 GMT -8
The Dragon Kissed
Ezekial looks up from his coffee, looking slightly annoyed. "You talk big, Ms. Swiftwind. Need to practice keeping my eyes open do I? Well. Keep being sneaky for all I care, just don't be offended if I pretend that you're not here."
He sighs, and listens to her conversation with Quel and Gavril before speaking up again. "If you truly are a lawmaker, as you say you are, than surely you already know all about the slave situation in this town? Everyone else seems too. And if you don't, than you're obviously not a lawmaker here, so leveling your crossbow at my partner was uncalled for because you are outside of your juridiction."
Zeke takes a deep breath, still obviously annoyed. ". . . I am being petty. I will put aside my dislike of you inorder to help those slaves. We are going to rescue slaves from the Orcs's mine. They were giving money to the gnolls, who were giving food to the whitescaled Kobolds, who were stealing people from this very city to give to the orcs for slave labor in these mines. Now, do you feel like getting off of you damn high horse and helping us out, or will you insist on rubbing us the wrong way?"
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