
icehawk333 |

In the slums of Arcdale, a woman sits in "the great harvest" - a bar known for it's decent beer and livable rooms. It is one of the overall best places to sleep in this district. She is drinking a cup of hot tea, and glancing around the room every so often, as if surveying the people here.

Clifford "Cliff" Barton |

A man walks in the bar he has a bow on his back sparks fly off of it every now and then. He has red hair, green eyes and a slightly elvish tint to his face and body structure, he has a robe which is open and under it is an almost skin tight shirt.
He looks around and upon and upon seeing the familiar face he smiles, waves and walks up to her "hey there," when he walks up and a snake peeks it's head up through his shirt, it's tounge pokes out at her.

Roy McCallow |

A man sits at a corner table. He speaks in a foreign language and makes quite a show, cutting up and laughing, although it doesn't seem to be to anyone in particular. A more well mannered voice speaks in the same language coming from near him. Next to him in the booth is a weapon with a large silver ball mounted to a stick, roughly the size of a basket ball with the stick being the size a walking stick would be for him. Even at his massive stature.
His long, jet black hair goes down to his shoulders and he has bright blue eyes with yellow flecks passing through here and there. His skin is a deep tan from a life of work in the fields. Up and down his biceps are symbols and letters in a foreign language.
Decent religion check tells you they are meant to protect luck but are to no specific deity.
This way of life is even more obvious in his physique. His thick muscles are all even and well distributed and have an amazing sculpt.
His clothing is rather simple. He wears rough working pants with many pockets and loops for tools. He wears a vest of dark black leather without a shirt underneath. Between these a sash of well made material consisting of primarily red plaid with the ocassional streak of blue and green. A bit of the same fabric is tied around his weapon just below the silver head. He also wears heavy black work boots. Around his neck is a black string supporting a small metal horseshoe oriented like a cup.
On the table is a half finished mug of ale and a plate of meat and bread.

Roy McCallow |

He leans forward over his table when the snake makes an appearance.
" So that's a serpent in'nit? First I've seen. Heard a lot 'bout em. Don't got 'em back home."
His voice is fairly pleasing to the ear and carries a lilt of what could be recognized as an Irish accent.

Roy McCallow |

"Sure." He stands from his table and rises up to all of his towering 6'6. His weapon goes to a sheath on the back of his vest.
He holds his hand out to the python.
"Please do not let it touch me." A slightly tinny voice issues from the head of the mace in the same accent the man bears. It sounds more sophisticated than his but still fairly similar.

Leyli the kitsune |

"mm. yes, the strange ones..."
she hands roy the python afer hissing to it for a moment. it promptly curls itself around his waist a few times, so it can properly support itself.
"it won't bite."
she giggles.
"you're right, a weapon afraid of a snake is pretty funny."
she was looking down when she said that.

Roy McCallow |

He chuckles a bit is the python wraps itself around his . . . well . . . . pythons.
"I like the feeling. All smooth and textured. And it's not strange if you don't need em in the first place. Heh. If he won't bite I promise I won't either."
"Oh dear. It's on my handle. It's going to kill me."
"Oh please. I've smashed you into worse things."
"So. I don't think we've done names yet. Roy. You are?"
He attempts to offer a hand to each of them which is akward and restricted by the snake around him in various places.

Roy McCallow |

He shakes hands in turn, careful not to harm the small snake in the man's sleeve.
"Not much. Been here for a couple months now. Got a job doing horse work at a ranch just outside a'town. Trolling around the bars and inns seeing who's got the best product. Why ya got all these serpents here? Some kind of rule I don't know about?"

Roy McCallow |

"Well if they got good beer we could always bring our own company." He says with small laugh.
"if you're going to flirt, must you make it so obvious?"
He half-nudge-half-shoulders the mace's head.
"..." he remains silent after what he considered to be a subtle pass is 'revealed' by his back(seat) operator.
He gently unwinds the massive reptile from around himself and hands it back to her carefully.
"No preference really. Breathing all the way is nice though."

Roy McCallow |

"Pleasure to meet you. I am Ionstraim an Chogaidh."
The smooth headed mace hums in it's metallic voice.
"Oh yes. I almost forgot." He takes the giant weapon off his back and into hand. With a flick of the wrist an array of spikes eject from the large silver head of the weapon, revealing it to not be a mace, but a morning star.
"I here's been in my family since the beginning of the very first clan wars. The very fiercest warriors of every generation of our clan hand him down and train the next. My father to me my grandad to him and my great grandmother to him. All the way back through our history."
[I]"Ah, yes . . . . Arvonna was one of the finest warriors to bear me. Took a legion of men on her own. With my help of course."

Roy McCallow |

"Indeed. As of now, I have been to battle alongside 14 generations of McCallows. Roy here is the fifteenth."
Roy doesn't seem to mind. At all. He tries to discretely flex his muscles for her while she is near him.
1d20 - 1 ⇒ (8) - 1 = 7stealth
"I'm from a large island to the north of here. My family owned a large area of land until about a year ago. We lost most of everything we have, so I hopped a boat and tried to find a better place. I wound up here. Didn't think it was much of an improvement until about half an hour ago." He attempts another pass.
"Oh dear ancestors that was worse than the last time."
This succenctly gets the mace replaced on his back.

Roy McCallow |

The waitress arrives with them after a few moments.
"Thank ya love." He says.
"A toast to new friends."
"May your heart be light and happy,
May your smile be big and wide,
And may your pockets always have
a coin or two inside!"
He recites before downing an eighth of the tankard.
perception dc 15 tells you his eyes just changed color slightly.

Roy McCallow |

"I can assume as much as to guess that ya weapon's got magic to it. Might I ask as to what it does? Never been much of one for magic ma self. Been more of a self reliant kind a guy."
He looks at the bow the man has with curiosity. Magic had always just been something that was, although he had been on the bad end of a spell more often than he'd like.

Clifford "Cliff" Barton |

"I can assume as much as to guess that ya weapon's got magic to it. Might I ask as to what it does? Never been much of one for magic ma self. Been more of a self reliant kind a guy."
He looks at the bow the man has with curiosity. Magic had always just been something that was, although he had been on the bad end of a spell more often than he'd like.
"Well there is magic on it to make it flexible so I never outgrow it and I always make full use of it, on top of that it has an enchantment that puts lightning on the arrow"

Roy McCallow |

"Sounds like quite a thing, shooting lightning and all. Ya could really ring someone's bell with something like that! Heh." It would seem that it amuses him. He laughs, not in a derisive way. He is probably imagining someone being shocked by an arrow.

Roy McCallow |

DC role a twenty. I have +0 XD
1d20 ⇒ 15
"Ya stuff like arenas or - what are y- . . . . ."
He goes blank as it takes effect.
Looking straight at his eyes you can see they are blue with a yellow rim around the iris.
They seem to fade into a silver tint as he loses his volition.

Roy McCallow |

"Mortals . . ."
The weapon at his back says derisively.
"You should have just asked."
He downs the rest of the 7/8ths of his drink at once.
"Where to?"
The silver tint fades from his eyes and is replaced with a bright green.