"Ah, then I am not a spirit sent to roam this land! I was fearing for my own sanity. My name is Darpan Bala...umm..well I have been told to shorten it, so I guess Darpan will suffice. Are you from the local Varisian Clans around here? I am trying to find someone who could maybe help with identifying a specific weave of cloth. I was told it came from one of the local tribes."
Looking at the man and his cards, Darpan asks quizzically,"Is this some sort of local tradition, or do you use those painted tiles for fortune telling? I was told the people of the area were good fortune tellers, but I do not wish to have my fortune told now..unless you can tell where I might find assistance?
"Interesting choice of words. As far as goblins go their minds work in rather strange ways. They believe words steal the thoughts from their head. Giving them a fear of tomes."
He raises his own to make a point, then takes a sip from his glass.
"So where were you before Sandpoint? You have the look of a chelaxian and that scythe seems their style if I were to guess."
"I came from a... place in Magnimar. I was raised there, but I left at the age of 18, roughly 8 years ago and ventured here. There were plenty of things to happen on the way here, but I would rather hold onto that information, per say."
He removes his scythe from his back once again, placing it on the table, with the blade facing toward him. Unsheathed, the rest of the scythe is a crimson hue, bearing a spot on it where a symbol has been etched out with great intensity.
Watching all of the dancing, singing and story-telling, the Half-Elf started to get festive. He looked around the tavern for a woman to dance with. After hearing the woman in the faded blue dress comment that she hasn't danced in sometime, he decided to ask her. "Care to join me for a dance?"
Gujek stepped across the threshold and immediately regretted the decision. The inn was full of all manner of creatures, but he still stood out. Though smaller in stature than most orcs, his features are blood were too strong to hide what he was.
He considered turning to leave, but decided that anywhere he went would result in similar stares and gaping mouths. For a moment, he felt his anger flare inside of him, but he managed to quickly gain his composure - these Others had done him no wrong. He was simply an oddity among them.
Moving to an un- or lightly occupied table, he sat and waited to be served.
I was in the same boat...I read some, quickly got lost, so I just had him enter on his own.
Gilly squawks and stumbles after Noro, confused and unsteady.
She seems pleased, though.
To Darpan:
Looking up from her seat, Chavana thinks boy, this one's rather tall, either that or this wine has made me shorter.
"Well hello there Sir, while I may have come FROM a monastery, I certainly didn't live in one... well, for more than a few years at least. That, my friend, is the definition of hopelessness. And yes, you did hear correctly, I recently hail from a stint at Windsong Abbey, a short... well almost short... walk just along the coast North of here, from what I understand. Just head north, and you cannot miss it.
Looking across at her new friends, or at least not trying to kill her acquantances, "I believe that we could all sit and relax, and, perhaps, friend, a round?" She smiles meekly.
