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Sorry I'm late. I went to a bachelor party in Atlantic City. A few nights of drinking and bad decisions and lots of hot ass girls walking around. But, I'm back. May not post right away, since I had 4 hours to my sleep coma, and I think I may still be a little drunk (2 of those big bottles of Captain Morgan downed. And I'm still alive.)
Burlee puts his face to the bootmark, sniffing it, relishing it, making it feel like it's at a good place. He wants it to speak to him, to tell him where this odd creature who has a fetish for brutally mauling small mammals is running off to. He gets so close, he's almost in it.
After scrutinizing the footprint, he picks up the rat and smells its obversely cut innards, smearing a small amount of blood on his rather bulbous nose.
"Yep, i''s ded. Lewks taer be bah somethin' small an' sherp an' prahfessional"
Burlee looks up at Mr. Knight, and nods. "Bet who carres aboot a cat? Well, a'sides Normpah. Y'knoo, ef weh fend somefin', weh cen breg aboot i'an'we'll get mead an' food. Y'know, ya'be no' so bed, Armoree." He nods, slowly, sage-like, and proudly, thinking that he has loosed the fabric of a tightly knitted secret behind his words. "To tha' stet-tue!" He proclaims, marching through the door with his axe held high. He probably, at least, scratched the doorway of the Unfurling Scroll with it as he waddled triumphantly through.
Burlee being the ever tactful socialite, hands the offered hand a soppy, soggy sausage that was repeatedly dipped in syrup. He closed the outstretched fingers around them, and nodded solemnly. Wandering around town once more with the group made him feel like the giant mosquito demons were going to descend unto them from the black night sky as they returned. He wasn't afraid, mind you, but he was unnerved because they were bugs. The group stared at the odd, poignant runes that conveyed words, while he kinda stepped back with the tall armory thing he placed a sausage onto. He let the little ones make the decisions, obviously hinting that they were to go to a place with scrolls. He decides to follow suit with the tall armory one and take out his flask, taking a long gulp. "Yep" He stated plainly, staring into the people.
Burlee, sitting in his chair and looking rather blob-ish, opened his mouth to speak, but instead made a beeline for a heaped amount of food on his plate that surely he had piled on while the company was focused on the human. He chewed noisily, hardly acknowledging the new presence and kinda spacing out. He stabbed his enormous pile of pancakes and opened wide, engulfing the majority in one bite. With cheeks protruding, he looks to Norna, then to Eldon, then to Kendra. He blinks when he notices the new figure. Swallowing hard, he squints his eyes. "Oi, ya wer'nnae herre 'afore. Or were ya?" He looks to Norna. "Sey yer name t'ree tiemes fest, an' Ah'll give yeh a pencake." His attention span was clearly on cue.
I /KINDA/ have ir contact with Heto. I can see what the monk is doing these days.
Ah'm Burlay, truly named Gary, and I'm a complete newbie to everything but the roleplaying aspect. I am rather seasoned to the entirety of roleplaying (probably not in your standards, considering 20 years is 5/6's of my life D:) I'm studying medical for oncology and work at a bank to make ends meet. Now, Burlee is a rather crass characters with no bonds held. I dunno if you're reading the story we've done so far, but there's been some experiences that are at least memorable to me. Other than that rather droll introductory, welcome to this...board, and...have fun controlling our virtual lives!
Well, I had a talk with Pizzmic, and he apologizes for his tardiness and inactivity, but he will be no longer able to DM this group, or even participate in others. He's become rather busy as of late, and had to change his schedule around, essentially clipping out the things that weren't as important as others. Unfortunately, this is one of those that were removed from his schedule, so the new DM may come in at any time.
But, Heto, we do have discussion!
Ya dun fin' tha Burlay, tha Burlay finds yoo. And thank you, Vlad.
Burlee here! Just had an extravagant birthday celebration. Note, I have this tab opened at all times, so whenever I can I will try to post. Now, I'll have a sit-down with Pizzmic to see if he wishes to carry on with this situation, especially because I've been having so much fun making the character people love into reality. So, I'd like to continue on and see where it goes, hopefully Pizzy feels the same.
Burlee huffs roughly, thumping his cup on the table. He really didn't feel the need to get up. The snack was tempting, considering his craving for turkey had become almost ravenous, but at the same time, he did not want to go to a room of scrolls and books. He weighed his options and would rather stay here. He grunted. "Oi, Ah ain' go' no business en a book-playce." He sipped his juice. It wasn't strong enough, he needed something stronger. Orange juice just wasn't enough for the day he felt like he was going to have. He shook his flask he always has on him and took a hit. It didn't taste anything near good, with the orange juice and strong alcohol mixture. Plus, he's not pansy enough to drink his alcohol with a juice chaser, it only dulls the figurative hit.
Burlee cracked his back and waddled to the table, eating his pancakes that obviously were not turkey-cakes. Eldon was talking. The ramble seemed to never end. In a completely unenthused movement, Burlee stabbed his helpless pancakes and ate all three in one bite, chewing dramatically and casting gazes at the Halfling. Then, the little Reddy spoke of books and reading them. Useless items only good for tinder. He shook his head slowly, and continued to chew the content overfilling his mouth. Finally, the two got up and began to head to the door. They left while Eldon's voice offered anyone to come with them. He knew there were dangers afoot, but he didn't think he could stand the book place. No, he just kept chewing and looking at the others at the table, washing his mouth out with syrup before continuing to chew his excessive bite.
Thank you, Norna for your praise :3 And if I post, I right-click copy my material or save it to notepad...>.> Old fashion is best fashion.
Burlee has the strongest desire to tell the old woman the gory details of her cat's death, but Nerno keeps taking center stage. She passes the remains over, and all the dwarf can think of is a freshly slaughtered chicken being handled to this hag. What a waste! He's never had cat before, or maybe he has...he imagined it would be gamey. Sighing with dissatisfaction, he waddles with the group to food. He could ask nothing more from the group as he created minor distractions to pick a good piece they had gotten on their plates. The servants don't seem to like him much, considering the restoration process of a frequently used table will be rather herculean. He pretended to fall asleep with his face on the table, and as everyone left, he picked up whatever scraps he could find and buried them in his gullet. After satisfying himself, he found something much softer this time, and laid in it. It was a small chair in the common room with a pad on it, and in an amazing effort, he was able to balance himself on the cushion and sprawl his limbs over the sides of the chair, so his body resembled that of a wilting flower. That night, he dreamt of laughter and happiness. Of him playing on the ground with two little ones who crawled around him like ants, trying to take him down. He laughed and thwarted their futile attempts easily. A woman entered, bearing a baby near her chest. She giggled, as she moved a chair, but he quickly got up from his little monsters' assaults and helped her to it. She was weak, but insisted she do it herself. He nodded in guilt, and called the children over. They gathered 'round and smiled, while he kissed his wife's cheek; she smiled weakly. He gathered the food he had prepared, a lavish turkey dinner and started to place the food on the table. He cut pieces off and gave them first to his beloved, then allowed his children to tear it to shreds. He laughed as he gathered what he could before the tiny maws found it. All was well, all was happy, even if it was in a dank, cold room. They continued to talk and laugh, but in this dream, it was mute. Like a silent movie, you saw the children describing their day, and their mother smiling about it, yet no sound was heard at all. He watched in amazement; he felt like he's seen this before and that he knew it by heart. Then, like thunder from the sky, came a series of knocks. He adjusted his glasses, and flattened his robes and arose to the sound. His wife looked anxious, his children, startled by the noise, darted to the table. He shrugged and answered his door. When he opened it, light pierced the gloom and a voice came from it... He awoke, yawning and stretching. He didn't do well with the chair, considering one of the legs cracked and began to lean inward under his weight. He didn't care, he just felt like eating turkey, and had no idea why.
Burlee gleefully chugs down the meat and rather large amount of mead with renewed gusto. He takes bites so quickly, in fact, it's hard to tell if he's even breathing through the snarls and smacks of the massacre of fat and meat. He rather outrageously tosses his bones and inedibles on the floor, much to the disdain of any guests or barkeeps. Eventually, he has reached his maximum, licking the plates and the table of any scraps in the most disgustingly literal way imaginable. After 'harrumphing' and belching and patting his engorged belly, he braced himself before rolling off the chair and waddling away from the table, the marks of the Stirge attack still on his armor, and the outline of the beast still marked in blood and bile from his quick maneuver with his axe. After eating and leaving, he arrived back at the statue, finding Lena there trying to decipher the writing on the monument. After taking a pose of it, like he always did in the presence of stonework for some inane reason, he looked into the placards, deciphering anything it said. He assumed they were names, and that this was a memorial, a sight not-all-too uncommon these days, regaling the lives of those lost in war, attacks or massacres. He then went to the side of the statue and inspected the bloody 'V' on the side of the statue. He ran a finger through it and scraped it off his finger. Someone already buried the cat that was massacred, or at least the remains thereof. He squinted his eyes in the gleaming twilight. There was something familiar about this, all of this. He looked over to Lena. "Oi, Reddy, wut'ya tink thees all beh ov?" He looked back to the 'V' and saw the finger mark smear it. He ran his finger through it again and did the same thing. He circled around to look at the statue, making the pose as he rounded it, and looked at the placards. He had to assume they were names, and that this was a memorial...
Burlee settles from his rage as he sees the last Stirge get cut down by his axe. He looks down at the old woman, pretty much dead from her wounds and blood loss. Being the expert doctor that he is, he starts squeezing his beard to release the blood and bile mixture the Stirge released to help revitalize her. Eldon and Heto rushed over to help her, so he jqust pretended he was wringing out his beard of the thick fluids. Little Reddy came waltzing over and said something about a snack. He was all for it. "Ah want meat an' mead. Yer buyin'. Tha bread wusn' enoough."
WE DRINK TIL WE DIE! I wanna use more of that Burlee charm.
Burlee responds by looking over at little Reddy, a fire in his eyes not normally seen in the annoyingly aloof dwarf. He looked over to the old woman, seeing the life get slowly taken out of her. He was tired of bugs. So very, very tired. He rushes over to the Old Woman who is probably going to die, and gets ready to cleave the bloated creature. He aligns his axe and spins to chop the bloated bug in half. "Ah'm older, how boot ya eat somma meh, Fron?"
Burlee get touched by Nornie, and poof! He's tickled by fairy hands that make him clean and shiny. He looks down in disgust, shaking his head. "Ya laddies need tae learn aboot tha grime ov a warrior. YA NEED TER BEH PROOD OV YASELF!" After that, Burlee was fairly quiet, keeping to himself, eating, and sneaking a sip or two from his flask he had on him. After all was said and done, he dozed on the table, starting and waking when he realized there was no one around him, in which he got up and walked to the bathroom and made bed in the tub. Upon the morning, he managed to get down the steps after wrestling with the tub once more. It's an instinct. Sitting and enjoying breakfast, he hears the knocks. He looks over, points to the door, and continues eating. Kendra answers, then Lena goes to talk, then Eldon. He smiles and steals some leftovers on their plates while they're busy with current events. As he was reaching over to grab one of Eldon's plates, he froze and heard him being called, the shadows of his comrades moving closer, or so he thought. He watched them move, but sighed as the shadows disappeared from the morning's light in the doorway. He sighed and grabbed Eldon's bread, a servant eyeing him with eyes of fire. He joined with the group, seeing the miraculous statue with the graffiti'd 'V' on it. "Who en tha 'Ell wants taer tell us five. Five wut? Five statues? AH'M ONTER SOMETHIN!'" Then, Vlad talked. She talked an endless stream of words. Oh, the words just continues as her mouth hardly moved to create them. It was a sight to behold that was more terrifying than anything one could ever imagine. This verbiage affected Burlee. She was the only noise at the time, and as he listened, he realized that the sky was blue, the grass was green, and...Eldon had a dead cat. Wait, what? He would ask more, absolutely, if that incessant buzzing wasn't happening. "OI, Ah'm teered ov these boogs. We goot a shoo fly spell or somefin." He shaked his head, seeing the large creatures strifing toward. him. "OH SHI--" He gets attacked and hit by the bug, as does everyone else, essentially, but Burlee doesn't like that. He points to one with his axe. "Alreeght, Sheridan, Yer goin' doown." Burlee winds up his trustly, thrustly axe and prepares to hit the odd buzzing creature. "Ah em soo tired ov boogs, Sheridan." He swung his axe to hit the bug but it flicked over to avoid the axe. "Damn ya boog. Ah hete fliers." It dives in to attack him, but he dodges gracefully, an odd grace of his stockiness and age, and he swings his axe with the fiery anger of a thousand suns on the broad side to see the body of the bee explode from impact, like Gallagher, hitting a watermelon with his hammah. "AHHH, Ah'm sick an' TEERED ov dese demned boogs." He looks around, readying for his next move, holding his axe tightly.
Burlee looks over, frozen from his feeding frenzy, feeling funky from filling fruit . With puppy dog eyes, his illusion shatters of eating the momentous dinner when he gnaws on a wooden bowl and has a smooshed banana on his chest. He sighs and casts his eyes down. "Aye lass. Hungarr is a cruel mistress.". He said this with almost an inkling of intelligence.
Burlee, being the ever-astute observer, listened to Eldon chuckling. As the story continued, it turned to a guffaw, then an outburst of Burlee-noise that included coughing, laughing, snorting, and an odd noise that could only be described as a seal bark. When he arrived and Eldon wrapped his story up, Burlee clapped Eldon on the shoulder. "'Ell ova pussy eh?'" He saw Kendra in her kitchen garb, and the rumbly tummy that is Burlee went into a stupor, practically floating to the food like a Disney protagonist. He waddled with the vigor he fought with, arriving to the table and filling his never-ending gut with whatever was out. He didn't care what he had in his had...in fact, one piece of 'food' was a large splinter from the table that wwas partly mended. Hell, it's fiber. He seemed like a pig in a mud pit, without the main course being involved. If a servant came, he greedily dug his hands into whatever it was and pushed it into his face, slowly getting covered with grease and pieces of meat and...was that a servant's finger?? Oh, no, it was merely a sausage...a FULL sausage poking out from his beard. He almost mocked little Lena as he rubbed a cranberry sauce on his beard and chest to save for later. He didn't care that the dried bile might mix with it.
Burlee, in all his bile-covered, huffing-and-puffing glory looks around. First he looks to his right. Then his left. Then upward. Then to Nibbler "Who th' 'ell be Fefe?". He didn't care about the white visage that Eldon felt the need to describe. Burlee just wanted food...maybe a good mudbath. There aren't many mudbaths around here. Wait, there's water flowing beneath them. The bridge is there for a reason, right? Unless...yes, unless it was a conspiracy bridge! He pulled out his axe and began poking it with his axe. With no reaction, he'd swing the axe into the hard stone of the bridge. A twang was heard, but little else. He shrugged and waddled on, hearing no cry of pain. When he finally noticed the statue before them, he felt the need to stay behind and try to pose like it. An unnecessary compulsion, but it felt like it was needed.
Burlee waddles along with the crowd, trying to find his co mfort zone between the short shorties and the tall tallies. It's terrible being a medium medium...y. He walks rather proudly because, obviously, the Father almost fell backwards because of his amazement of the warrior and couldn't stand the epitome of manliness as he was. Down the street, he hears Lena say something about dinner. "Oi, finally! We cen eat oor weigh' en brread, an' drink 'ti we less oot." He also heard Eldon say something about a contest as to who can eat more. He places his broad hand on the small one's shoulder. "CHALLENGE AKCCEPTED, LADDEH. If ya die, I' ain' meh fault.". He nods matter-of-factly. He could eat an orc family with illegitimate children included in one sitting.
Burlee looks over to the tiny redhead. "Dun be 'pressed 'bout 'at. Ah've keeled biggar, bettar 'ings." He tuts, shaking his head. "Like me mum." He chuckles to himself in his own morbid joke...or was it a joke? He watches the children beg Grandpa Grimburrow for presents. He figured he'd join. He went next to Eldon, looking at him for a moment before getting on his knees. He was shorter than Eldon, then, but it was all for effect. He swept his less-curly beard, still rather soaked in bile, over his shoulder, and said with the highest voice her could muster "Oh, yis Faddah. Shoo oos tha wey!" He held his hands to his face and blinked at the old man to flourish his adorability (Is that even a word?). He cracked his signature smile, showing off his corn-kernel colored teeth.
But, Genesis, dem posts in gameplay :O
Burlee looks at the scarab, almost drooling, at first. "Ah got noo idear wut 'at is, boot Ah did sey som'ing aboot boogs." Burlee nods triumphantly, not really remembering what he said, but remembers it was loosely about bugs. After all the loot was gifted, he realized he received nothing but a flask and a potion, items that are worth nothing and normally taste nasty. The scarab looks pretty, and worth quite a bit of coin, but Burlee is unsettled by it. He feels like he knows something about it, but it's covered by a fog inside of his brain. He stares at it, the lines deepening in his brow as he tries to recourse and remember something, anything about the item. Suddenly, he realizes he's hungry and turns to begin his waddling back. "Bah, yooseless itims. Non'er'em cen feed meh." Arriving at the Temple, he sat in the seat he sat last time, looking at random items sprawled across the area. He picks some up and looks at it, not really caring what it's about, like a child who just wants to fill in his boredom. He sighs, and his tummy growls.
Ya critted, brah.
Dear Lord, thank you all for the compliments. I love my Burlee character, and I want to do him justice, and that you all enjoy him so much, it makes me very, very happy. Now, after I fixed my little mishap,the fighting went rather smoothly even as a pincer attack, the hardest (for me anyway) to mitigate. It was a very good intro, especially for someone like me, who is new to the Pathfinder scene. And Eldon, you can clean the Burlee, but he'll roll around in the mud when you're not looking to prove a point. Burlee is as Burlee does.
Burlee sighs, getting up, using his axe as a crutch before cracking his back. "Oi, Lassie, let meh swim in victree fer a liddle, woul'ya?" He looks around, surveying the damage. Noofa-Lumpa is fine, Reddy is fine, an Acolyte is shaken...nothing huge. It was rather wonderfully easy...a little too wonderfully easy. He looks behind him at the sarcophagus. He has no idea what to expect, but we apparently need it opened for one reason or another. Something about clearing a name or something. Who knows? "'Ey, on'er you tall men. Get yer pansy arses o'er herre soo we cen open 'is thin'." He looks around him. "Ah coul' prolly open it mahself, bu' if a Boog-Mancerr is hidin' in there, Ah dun wanna be the onlay wone covered en boogs." He says this quietly, stepping up to the sarcophagus and getting ready to push it open.
Burlee gracefully dodges the attacks on him from the centipede creatures, like the wind through a valley. He winds up his attack, jams his axe down, and obliterates the creature's head. "'Atta girl! Go down nice en easy." He pats the body, then turns to the other one, when Genesis just annihilates it. "WELL then, ya know how taer fight, laddeh." He sees the acolytes rush toward him, stopping behind Eldon and Genesis. "Oi! You e'er clean dis plece?' He tuts, trying to look over the Acolytes and Genesis, who are considerably taller than he. "Ya still kickin', Reddy? Ah know Monky's doin' fine, an' Noop-da-Woop'll meke it." He shrugs, not waiting for a response. He looks around. "Ah'm gettin' too ol' fer dis shi'." He mumbles to himself before setting his axe down like a cane and walking forward. If there are no traps, he'll waddle over in front of the sarcophagus and sit, waiting for the clean-up crew to finish their duty.
Burlee watches the creatures pop out of the shadows.
Burlee will lead the group to glory! Bloody, awful, terrible glory.
Burlee looks back and forth between the group and the footprints. He draws his axe slowly, and readies himself, walking toward the footprints on the stones. "C'mere ya leetle beastie. Eef ya spook meh, yer nae gon'a heve a head." He whispers this, stepping very lightly, his curly beard and mustache bouncing with the steps he takes, his rump wiggling in front of Eldon.
Burlee, wearing a large-brimmed feathered hat and a rather garish outfit, walks with extreme distaste. His mustache and beard are curled rather violently, due to the cleaning fluids and water. He walks, and his luxurious curls bounce with every step. "Ah hate e'rythin'." When he walks by the gargoyles, he looks up, flipping his hat off his head because of how in-the-way it was. "Oi, dem beasties." He rolled his eyes, looking at them. His dark vision makes him able to pierce the darkness, though only in black and white. Luckily that hat's gone. Stupid hat.
I don't know whether I should be honored, or if I should question the fact you played that character...
Burlee looks at Eldon with his suggestion and he laughs rather jovially at the little man. "Laddy, ya better be gainin' a few poonds taer tango wiff meh." Then, the little Reddy spoke up. She spoke gibberish at first, but after a while, the little thing walks up to him and says the accursed words. No food. He grimaces, but realizes that she's right, they're probably preparing the food. In a moment of rebellion, he takes an apple off the table and walks off with it. "Ah'm steel gettin' an apple." Chomping into it, he arrives in the bathroom and looks around. He sees a vanity, where he sees his beautiful visage, a sink, a toilet, a tub, fluffy little feet warmers..."'Ey, this be mah bedroom." He looked into the toilet incredulously. He stepped into the bowl of the toilet, and sat as well as he could, which he could hardly get one leg in "Reddy! This be too small! This be yer beth!"
Burlee slurps and snarls as he drinks his last mug. The fourth one didn't stand a chance, but he's feeling better about everyone else. He raised his mug to Eldon, telling his rather odd story. "Ya shoulda killed 'em, little'un!" He takes his beer that Eldon bought him, and he raises it, soluting his miniature comrade before knocking it back and draining it of its contents. He doesn't notice the monks constant activity around him, he just looks around aimlessly, lost without his full mugs. The little bugger who tried to impress the crowd walked over to him and said to leave. Who does he think HE is? Eh, there's a 1 to 30 ratio, so he figured he'd just comply and get back to...where was he again? He dismounts his chair after looking into his mug to see if there was anything left. Much to his disappointment, it was not the case. He sighed slams his broad hand onto the table, knocking the mugs into the air, and making them roll around on one end, and even chipping one. "Ah'll beh beck, end Ah'll heve more." He about-faced and marched out the door. Burlee enters the manse as he normally does, obnoxiously. He bellows as he opens the doors, making all aware he's back, and he finds his spot at the table where he placed his axe. "THIS CALLS FER A MEAL!" He hits the table with his fists, like a child would when saying that they were hungry. Hitting tables was one of Burlee's pastimes. Suddenly, he noticed the group was looking in his generation, like wolves to a lamb. He furrowed his brow. "Wat?"
Burlee receives his large quality of alcohol, and he smiles like a child at Christmas. He takes his large hand around 3 of the mugs' handles and centers them above, doing a type of salute to the others before knocking them back and pouring the contents, which partly splash on his face. He sighs, wiping his face. "Damned mugs. 'Ey nevar do what they be supposet to." He gargles the three down separately, exhaling contently. "Ain't nuffin' like 'e ol' firrewadder to freshen tha gullet." He belches rather loudly, wiping his mouth with his rather ragged sleeve. He doesn't talk to anyone in particular, mostly to himself.
That, good sir, is almost exactly what it would be. Girls love the Burls
Burlee holds up a hand with fingers spread as soon as he was asked. "We'll staht with five pints ahf Dwarven stout ef ya got it. Ef ya dun, gimme a mead, ya hoomans meke a decent mead." He looks over to Heto. "He'll order wat 'e wants." He waves a hand dismissively to the Monk. He hears the pitter patter of tiny feet entering the bar as the crew meanders toward them. He sighs. There's the one who uses words, Reddy, and Narnjia. He was sure the other human, who he couldn't be bothered to remember the name of was floating around here somewhere too. Was that everyone? He smiled a yellow, toothy grin to the bartender. "An' yer hospiterlity will be 'preciated wiff free drinks, sence yer people be less than welcomin'."
Burlee waddles away under the monk's hands, giggling like a little schooldwarf. He does an informal salute. "Ah...am goonna get shmashed." "Ye don' seem like tha drinkin' kind. Too quiet. Meybe if ya heve seme ye'll spill yer guts! In words." He cheers and exclaims random things, waddling proudly through the office, his nose in the air. "Ah honestlay dun even r'member yer neme. It be like Hetro or Himo, or Hetero." He nods to himself, twisting the door knob open and opening it rather loudly.
The ever-so diligent Burlee decided, in this rather important moment, that he was being too quiet. He broke his silence. "Ah'm BURLAY, you tha one I be drinkin' wiff?"
Burlee, waddling his way through the wondrous visage of a building, looks about wildly, his beard flailing back and forth. He finds a seat and sits in it with a 'paff.' He looks at various knick-knacks and items around him with disinterest. He is very disappointed there is no food here. Hearing the pleads from the group, he takes a deep breath. "Wha donchya jes' help 'em, man? We know tha laddy is worrdy and small, bet tha's no reason tah be hatin' 'im, eh?"
Burlee lifts an arm and sniffs his armpit. He shrugs. It smells like good spoiling and hard work at lobbing people's heads off, the way a berzerker should smell! The laddy and lassy kept complaining, but no one else did. Must be them. Maybe it's because they're small, and because they're so small, the wafting scent of glory permeates their nostrils quicker. Then they conversed about someone carrying the Gods forsaken books, and he had an odd suspicion it was going to be him. Eldon quickly dismissed this theory. "Lunch 'nd drinks're FINE wiff meh..." he looked over to the female Halfling who verbalized her day "Boot Lassy Red, eef ya think yer tha one bathin' meh, yer comin' in too." It was a weak threat, not meaning to be sexualized, but could very well be misconstrued as such. He clapped his hands together once. "WELL, then, le's see who cen drink ol' Burlay oondar tha teble." He chuckled to himself none of them could, and he knew it.
Burlee awoke in the porcelain tub, almost frantic at first, grabbing for his axe. There was so much white in the...morning? Afternoon? This time of day! He arises and sees nothing special in front of him, where he slowly climbs out of the bathtub with the graciousness of a rhino falling out of a tree. He hits the ground with a thud. Clearly annoyed at this, he kicks the tub and walks out...and then tries to suplex the infernal creation. He hits it, and it doesn't shatter or crack or even move. "OI, you made of mithril, ya damned demon!?" Coming downstairs to the range of smells, he gathers food on his plate, cold but still tasty. He takes a bite of the random breakfast food as he listens to the others rabble on about the book and how important they are. Occasionally, he moved his head to whomever was speaking, seemingly eating a different food every time he did such. He waves at Kendra, like a five year old saying bye-bye to mom, eating anything in sight still. He looked over to Heto with toast in his mouth, and he nodded in agreement. He looked over to Eldon with an apple in his teeth, in which he pointed and chuckle-crunched. He looked at Genesis with a sausage he was gnawing on, and shook his head in such a crestfallen manner. He returned to Eldon, drinking a glass of goatsmilk, watching him barrel for the key. Then, Norna spoke. It kept talking. He stared at the girl blankly, drool coming out of his mouth when she said the word. He slammed his fist on the table he stabbed earlier. He stayed in his blank stare for almost a minute before tossing his head back and laughing. "AH LIKE NUMA-NUMA'S IDEAR! LEET'S DRINK 'TIL EVERRYONE HERRE IS PRETTY!"
"BAH! Ah'm borred. Ceme end wake meh up when yerr doin' somefin, or ya decide tae burn these wastes ef space." He harrumphs rather loudly and about-faces, waddling his way up the stairs, tripping slightly near the top and grumbling about it. He slams the door, then, staring into the darkness, he finds something he thinks is a bed and graciously thumps into it. Harder than a bed, but comfortable nonetheless. He rests his eyes and twiddles his thumbs, thinking about setting the books ablaze anyway. |
