Eir Haakonen's page

"Eir Haakonen, Pleased to meet you all, for those I'm meeting the first time. I'm the resident channeler. And of course Karrin and I have made each other's acquaintances - I'm glad to have such a capable fighter along, Karrin."

Mercutio darts quickly back and forth above the assembled group, swooping close to sniff each one.

"Toilet trained?"

At the comment on wet cat she sniffs lightly and looks over at the mutt. "Are you sure it's not dog you're smelling?"

She should have said that to Eir.

"Touché"

Eir blows a few more smoke rings at the ceiling.

With a panatela cigar in the corner of her mouth, feet still on the table: "I smell wet cat."

Thin coat of wax? Waterproof scroll cases exist, n'est pas? Can't find them in any D&D books, but they've sure got all kinds of exploding alchemical stuff.

I can buy wooden matches in Sigil, can't I?

Pipeweed? That's a cigar, Mr. Spinner. The phallic significance of a cigar is an important characterization device.... And while I'm at it I want to add that Eir wears a big black cloak and flicks matches with her thumbnail.

;)

"Ahem. Yes. Gods! If I ate like that I'd weight 300 pounds."

"tiefling cutter, how many fat tieflings have ya seen cutter?"

"Well, there's that fat bastard Maxus Korkalian, down at the Magic Vat potion shop. Keeps trying to feel my ass."

Don't miss that link, man, it's sweet.

Eir blows a few smoke rings at Zigel.

Eir slowly lights a long slender cigar. She leaves her feet on the table.

To Karrin, "Why aren't you fat?"

Eir strolls in wet from the rain with a mysterious smile on her face. She's adjusting her armour as if it had been hastily donned moments before.

"Cutters."

She takes a sit and puts her feet up on the table.

"Sorry if I'm late or something."

Grins.

"You'll understand everything in a few hours once you're in the cage. Speaking the cant is quite easy, really, and rather common - and I mean that in the worst way."

Weird, my first post just disappeared.

If anyone wants to take Knowledge(Sigil) as a skill, I think it would be in your party's best benefit in the long run. Sigil's three (rule of three) main resources are: Travel, Trade and Information.

Forgot to take my extra human skill.

I have Knowledge Sigil, now.

"Oh by the gods."

<Eir turns pale and dashes out to vomit for the second time this evening.>

One sexy saber wielding cleric of Loki, skill monkey, harlot, and consummate negotiator ready for action.

Just tweaking her equipment, so to speak.

"Now I think it is time to see if perhaps Miss Kind would like to join us. I am headed to the fighting pits. Would you like to accompany me?"

Renkar extends his hand to Eir

"No thanks, I think I'm going to drive a nail into my skull. No offense, but the noise over there is killing me."

<Looks at the bag suspiciously, peeks inside.>

"Okay, I'm in."

<Eir stares at the bearded man long and hard.>

"Before I make the extraordinary effort of dragging my sorry, hungover self over there, do you mind my asking if you plan to pay me?"

"I was speaking rhetorically."

"Discussion thread, marginally better."

<Eir lifts her throbbing skull back off the table and looks into VIk's eyes.>

"You have brain damage, don't you."

<Eir glances at the duelists.>

"No, people are all stupid, aren't they."

"My day? MY DAY? My day is plenty bright, pal. It's my life in general that seems to be the problem. DO you think this interplanar armpit of a pub is going to brighten my life. Lately this is where all the trouble starts. I need to find a nice quiet beach on a backwards plane where the walls of reality are not riven by power crazed psychopaths.

Oh, Odin, Odin... I need a new job."

<Thunk, head back on the table. Eir grinds her teeth while Vik sits there with his dumb smile.>

"You finished, Mr Smiles?"

"Because I deserve it...."

Under her breath: "nice monkey.

"Can we move these crazies to a discussion thread, 'Patrick', or whatever your real name is. Yesterday please?"

"Owwwwwww"

"My head."

I'd love to join you folks buy alas I've just met some... rough fellows... pirates actually... who need a woman's touch - I think they're going to keep me a little busy.

"Ennnnnn!"

<Eir, head down, is transfixed by the way her saliva is absorbed into the grain of the wood on her table.>

EARLIER

"excuse me ma'am. Could you tell me where in the s@#$f this place is?"

Eir remains motionless, her head on the table next to the empty bottle of psychotropic sake. Her pupils are fixed and dilated.

"It's not real. It's not real. It's not real. It's not real."

"Sharinda?"

<coughs>

"Coffeeeeeeeeeee," Eir groans from her lonely table at the back.

“Hold up Olly,” calls Thorn. “I gotta go too – damn meeting in the meeting.”

He turns to Eir. “Hey, nice meeting you luv,” he says. “And all the rest too. You’re quite something, you know? Pity that tielfing wasn’t interested in a three way thing … anyways, I’ll see you around Sigil some time, or Ysgard maybe.”

With that he hurries after the modron, out the door.

"See you on the turn of the ring, Thorn."

<Lifting he face from the pool of drool.>

"To Xagyg!"

"Later Shac!"

"GOds... I so frackin'g exhausted. I'm gonna sidle off to the back and have a coffee."

<Eir wanders off to a private booth and passes out, slumped over a table before she can order.>

<Eir nods at the newcomer and then looks back at Shac and rolls her eyes.>

"Nirvana"

I don't get this Mechanus/Nirvana thing, they just don't seem to fit in my cosmology.

"I think I'll try something exotic.... make it hot sake. It's a little chilly over here by Shac. So, does this place ever close? I'm pretty sure I've been drinking for 24 hours straight. Well... with a break."

“Is it my go again?” asks Thorn, clearly not keeping up with the game. “I call twenty!”

This is Eir's last throw.

"Calling a 10"

1d20+2=17

"That's 60 old frosty."

"Twelvers!"

Calling a 12 (1d20+2=4)

"Gah! Still miles ahead of you clowns."

Looks back at Thorn.

"Will do."

Eir picks up her overturned mug and cracks it into Thorn's head.

Shactal's outburst wakes Eir, who is asleep in a puddle of what she hopes is her own drool on the bar.

"En? Thor's nut-sack, how long did I sleep?"

Eir leans back in her chair and drinks deeply from her mug, slamming it down bottom up on the bar. "Well, I can still subtract, can't I? So who tosses next?"

"Let's see, 12 plus 24 plus 14....ummm...equals... FREE BEER?"

Eir stands up and does a little gloating dance, feeling a little bold because of her lead, and then throws the bones.

Calls a 14 (1d20 2=11)

Then, saying a little prayer, she uses her luck domain re-roll.

"Direkte fra Ysgard!"

Snicker (1d20 2=21)

One of the dice seems to spin on it's point for a few seconds and then finally rattles to a stop.

"Hehe. Beat that, boys."

Thorn should post another one.

LOL, Shactal's got a +6 spot bonus!

"Eir's a thirsty girl, frosty! Calling a 12."

1d20+2=22

"Gods! I could have had it all!"

I guess Thorn stepped out.

Spot roll.

"Calling a 10." Eir tosses the dice.

1d20+2=13

"Boomshakalaka..."

Mothman: the rolls are in order--the highest first roll goes first. If there's a tie then compare the 2nd, 3rd, and so on.

This reminds me of the looney tunes with the sheepdog and Wile Coyote.

Eir takes the dice, now quite cold, and lets them fall.

Beholder's Virtue roll-off (1d6=6, 1d6=2, 1d6=4, 1d6=2, 1d6=1) Highest goes first.

"Ladies first?"

Looks at Thorn.

"And yes, I use the term loosely."

Taking the mug from Shactal she pulls her fingers away quickly at first as if she's been burned. "When you get away from Gladsheim for a while you forget how great a cold ale is after drinking for days straight."

And then to Thorn, "Ahhh, I see you've met. We were just discussing the problem of sin."

Turns to Shactal, "Thorn is also somewhat of an authority in this area."

Eir looks around the room a bit, barely turning her head, as someone who has a neck injury or terrible headache might.

"Sure, I'm game."

"Oh it's quite spacious, the ladies room is anyway."