Status

Recent Statuses

24 Mar 2017 0:14
Current If you don't like the undead because they are wight, that's being wraithcist and that's not ghoul.
1 like
23 Mar 2017 3:41
You are mistaken Comrade, The RPGuild does not work for you, YOU work for the RPGuild. Welcome to the workforce Comrade, welcome to the Party!
6 likes
22 Mar 2017 23:37
He thought I was just a feeble old monk.... Then i pulled out my glock from under my robe and shot him with my inner piece.
8 likes
21 Mar 2017 18:18
Sanity is a fragile egg, and I'm in the mood for some omlets.
4 likes
20 Mar 2017 14:45
I'm a big fan of double standards. More flags means your enemies will know who it was that kicked their ass.
4 likes

Bio

Name: Grey Dust
Race: Dust Bunny
Gender: Male
Age: 12 Years, 7 Months
Birthday: February 30th.
Birthplace: Underneath the bookshelves.
Resides in: GMT-5 (ESTD)
Occupation: C.R.C.

THIS IS CLEARLY NOT ENTIRELY TRUE.
STOP THINKING I'm A 12 YEAR OLD DUST BUNNY <_>.

Most Recent Posts

I'll get a post up tomorrow. Maybe tonight if I'm particularly inspired.
I may be starting to handle too many trials.
Thomas Richard Harrison

Location: The Crossed Swords Tavern.
Interacting with: No one in particular


A ghost town wasn't quite the word to describe the quaint and quiet place they've found themselves in. Bar the dwarf making his pitch and having a natter with Ntaj (who had kept Thomas out of trouble thus far), and the pipe-smoking swordsman (or at least to the best of Thomas' knowledge given the garb). There was hardly anyone to greet them. Not that Thomas had been expecting a warm and friendly greeting, but a party this size with a wagon usually meant one of three things: Merchants from afar with goods to trade, adventurers looking for room and board, or raiders here to steal and plunder. If the town was poor, perhaps no one would bother with merchants, and they would just carry on down the road, but adventurers and raiders usually meant trouble. In truth they were often one in the same really, it depends on which end of the adventurer your town was on. That being said perhaps the population size made it more of a hamlet than a town or village. But to the dwarf's question, of what exactly happened already answered by quite a few people, Thomas held his tongue. He had no information that could contribute to their knowledge, alas if they had interrogated that crimson death proper perhaps they'd know more. Some might call it insanity to keep a violent bloody murderous beast captive, but someone had to study nasty killers of the world. As the saying amongst darker wizards went: Only a true monster knows what it means to be human, because they are the only ones who have taken one apart to see how they work.

Kyra and Keystone once again took charge, barking orders and commands to the barkeep/tavern proprietor they seemed to know. Sana was off to a temple with Satilla, and as much as Thomas wanted to come along, they probably wouldn't want him anywhere near the ailing bard. And a slight kerfuffle with some old codger (they seemed to have plenty of those in this setting, weirdly enough) seemed to have set the swordsman ablaze against Kyra. To which Thomas tutted to himself, and knew better. Introducing himself with his drawl after telling her off? Either he'd earn her respect or her ire. Let alone Keystone's or Sana's, once she gets better. Yet Thomas would just keep his mouth, surprisingly shut, and stick with Ntaj. Maybe there was more information to process, more minds to throw into this mystery.

Well, it was almost time for meditations. More spells for today, although they had a pretty quiet three days of travel given all the hubhub about the dangers of traveling. How did the elf and other ranger fare? Maybe they'll have some excitement tonight, and Thomas had to be ready.
Will get one in later this afternoon/evening.
Hopefully I'll make it.
Thomas Richard Harrison

Location: On the merry path to Mordor?
Interacting with: Cyneburg, & the Boys (Ntaj & Keystone).


From the Primal tongue,
Language of the ancient ones,
Supernal the voice of the gods,
Mother of all that is spoken,
common, elvish, dwarven, dragon,
goblin, ork, giant, and gnome,
There the tower lies sundered,
and so the word is broken.

Ntaj's use of elvish was... Surprising. And surprisingly well spoken compared to his common. Although the bar wasn't set too high on that, then again, Thomas' use of Dwarven was akin to Ntaj's common. The dwarven tongue was not quite the most pleasant of languages to the untrained ear. Compared to elven which flowed a bit better than the guttural runes of the bearded folk.

{"You surprise me Ntaj, Then there is not much I can offer as your elven may surpass mine!"} A joyous exclamation, as a joke shared between two companions may in their secret tongue. Not barring that the others did not know elven, but if such was the case, perhaps they could all speak elven through the entirety of their three days. Turning to Cyneburg who had chimed in "I would also be grateful for it, two teachers are better than one, who knows, maybe I'll be able to hold a conversation between the three of us yet." A smiling hopeful Thomas beamed like the radiant sun, his cosmic self projecting outwards to illuminate the warmth he felt compared to the coldness earlier. And yet the comeuppance of a scholar in a lot of pragmatics came.

In the form of something uncouth.
So very uncouth.

In drunken stupor, that just happened. So immaculately portrayed that nothing more could be said. For what more could be spoken of an inebriated belch that made Altas himself shrug? Or at the very least Thomas nearly fall back down in the glorious minutes of Keystone's symphony. Although had Thomas known of Keystone's musicality, he should be more than pleased to experience the burp from the man's mouth, than to appreciate what could come out from the other end of his rather boisterous trumpet. Better to take 1d8 Sonic damage than to take a critical. Or something like that in the roleplaying games Thomas used to play with his friends back home, until he found out he was an actually wizard, or rather a sorcerer.

"Yes, but I didn't quite catch that." A good sport about it and fixing his hair. The sorcerer was obviously dancing on the ice of not being murdered by one of three people left in this six persons party. It was going to be some pretty tense travelling. It was best to just keep in the company of Cyneburg and Ntaj for as much as possible. Maybe Thomas should leave the group at their destination.

---

Well, here they were. A tavern, the start and end of any classical adventure. And sometimes the continuation of them, as the tenders were a awfully good source of information. They seemed to have an excessive memory, often remembering every last person that went in and out of their place and town. Offering such details as if in some guard's fantasy. Else they would be completely and utterly useless in the means of information. But since Kyra and Keystone seem to be leading this thing, for now it was just best to shuffle along and head on in.

@Lucius Cypher

That's fine. I think I'll be good on the counter to wait a bit.
Welcome back, glad you're okay :)
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