Bardolph Buckwallow's page

Short of the inn burning down, or the avatar of Holy Mystra presenting herself to him, Bardolph's not going anywhere until morning. He's snoring away in his room. Once mid- to late-morning has arrived, Bardolph will reluctantly rise, sniff suspiciously at the slop Burna's sure to have laid out for dawnfry, and Bardolph will be ready to go wherever the group has decided that his sizable intellect and resources of ancient and arcane knowledge would be put to best use.

Bardolph hefts his empty bottle, and peers through the bottom at the rest of the party, making one of his eyes seem freakishly large. As long as we *hic* get our *hic* revenge on that rat *hic* bastard *hic* Khellek, I don't *hic* care, but whatever we do, I'm getting a damn *hic* good night's rest first!

Bardolph pulls a pipe from a pouch at his side, fumbles until he lights it and puffs on it to stifle his hiccoughs. He stands, turns, and walks off to his room.

From the hallway:
Good night, all! If you're dead in the morning, I'll be sure to rifle through your corpses tenderly...

Bardolph, pulling heavily from a fast-emptying bottle of brown liquor, listens with a mild smirk on his face.
Khellek, Khellek, Khellek... he'll have to leave the inn eventually. I'd like that dog's spellbook... (louder, and more directed at the group)I'm for any path that brings us into confrontation with this 'adventuring troupe'. We have them outnumbered and outclassed. Perhaps we can force them to tell us of their findings, for- for Delfen of course. Bardolph takes another long pull from the bottle, gasps slightly, and begins to hiccup.

For all in the Inn:

For Hamfast:

To Hamfast & DM:

For Hamfast & DM:

For Hamfast:

For everyone in/leaving the Emporium:

For DM:

For everyone in the tavern:

For the DM:

Bardolph finally looks up from the scrolls he's been working with, in time to see the wizard and elf leave. He coughs in a forced manner:

Ach-Achem! Sir Calishite! I would have a few words with you, mage-to-mage! I can assure you I have nothing to do with these, er, wastrels and thugs!

Bluff: 14-1 = 13

for DM:

For Burik and Rolem:

For everyone:

For the DM:

For the DM:

For DM:

For the DM:

Bardolph seems surprised at the heft of the gold in the sack, and quickly conceals his surprise with another sneer.

Very well, then--I suppose I would most likely have been at the inn anyway, so don't you lot go getting any ideas about loyalty and teamwork just because I deign to show myself there!

Bardolph, with the gold fastened to his creaking apron, and his bottle tucked under his arm, turns his back on the group and leaves.

Bardolph turns bright red, and sputters:
Well--you certainly didn't know how to successfully woo half-giantesses before you read it, did you? My edtion, for the record, contains some of Malabrarvius' more private musings on the issue. You're... you're welcome to come by if you'd like to see them sometime. BUT, don't be expecting to see my own notes!

To the group, somewhat more soberly:
Shall we be off, then? You all must be getting quite bored of this patois on the matter of high arcana...

Bardolph turns an eye to the cart of refreshments. If anything which would qualify as fairly strong alcohol (i.e. wine, spirits) is present, and in a portable form (bottle, etc.), he will nod slowly at Delfen and tuck it under his arm, without trying to be stealthy. If nothing alcoholic is available, or if none is in portable form, he leaves the cart alone.

Bardolph gains his balance, and, bleary-eyed, looks at Delfen carefully, wrinkling his brows.

How are we to know, Yellow-spells, that you weren't complicit in the gruesome murder of Lord Greatshout? What token of trust have we in you that we aren't being played like pawns upon the chessboard?

in a frenzied crescendo, sneering all the while:
Perhaps... perhaps you also have other motives? If it's my priceless first edition of Malabrarvius' Musings, I'm afraid you're out of luck. You could have just come by to read it, by Oghma's grace, but you must own it yourself, mustn't you? Well, you can have it from my collection when you pry it from the burning remains of my shop, and I assure you, I've protected my collection QUITE well.
Bluff: 5-1 = 4
Why involve these others, though, Yellowscale, when what you're really after is the ancient lore at my command, hmm? Speak quickly, for my patience is short!

Bardolph remains silent, and seems to be either musing to himself, or trying really hard not to fall down.

Bardolph is ready to enter the tower

Well, Byoo-rick, is it? I can't say I trust dwarves on matters of of gold any more than our 'hin' friend over there. Be that as it may, in my dealings with your people, I've never been outright cheated--you dwarves seem to prefer haggling ad nauseam until things turn in your favor. Take charge of our finances if you must, I care little. I'm currently more curious about what sort of offer 'Yellowtail' has in store for us.

Hm, you'll come to regret that--I always take offense at that kind of talk. Luckily for you, the list of persons and parties who I intend to have my vengeance upon and demand my satisfaction from is several years long. Don't think I'll forget it, though!
Bardolph makes the face shown in the avatar picture. It's one of the least scary things you've ever seen.

Bardolph is also ready to enter the tower.

Bardolph continues muttering to himself and pacing.

The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can be safely back in my barstool... These younglings and their incessant chatter!

"And where, exactly does everyone else hail from?"

Glancing Bardolph's way

"Even moreso, why would a mage of any sense want to deal with this 'merry band of misfits' that he seems to be collecting? Mr. Chubbukkit, I do hope you have some answers for us. I fear that you may suffer Moradin's wrath if'n you don't get some answers real quick."

Ha! As for me, I'm a well-respected citizen of this dump-hole masquerading as a city. If you want to know the motivations of haughty magelings with more money than sense, you might as well look for them in the garderobe!

Bardolph chuckles at his inept attempt at humor.

to all: Don't worry your little heads, strangers--I've got my spellbook and my blade, and half a mind to use them should this "employer", or any of you lot for that matter, have ill intent!

Bardolph attempts to posture intimidatingly, squinting through one eye at his companions, but his state of moderate intoxication and generally feckless appearance conspire to make the proposition rather humorous: 4-1 = 3.

(In a sneering mumble)
Hmph. Yellowfin, eh... I'd be better off rotting in that shameful excuse for a gaol. Hear ye, hear ye... bah. Ye haven't heard the half of it yet, for that I'm sure. (scratches chin, continues mumbling)... This poor excuse for a mage can't have anything important... Should be safely back at the shop by now. (mumbling gibberish)

You see a gruff, wild-eyed man in his mid-thirties with unkempt black hair and a humorous, out-of-style mustache. He is of average height and is of medium build, except for a pronounced gut. He wears a dirty robe which was probably worth something before it became covered in grease, grime, and various unidentifiables, with a thick, oil-spotted leather smock over it. He reeks of cheap alcohol, and he is still visibly somewhat drunk. He carries a thick book with rope bindings which has torn pages falling out, and a shortsword with a bronze-colored hilt wrapped in black leather sits in a sheath hanging from his tattered canvas belt.

For the DM:

(in a sneering sort of mumble)
This "Matt" character says that I have to post now, since everyone else's character is. Hmph. As if I don't have more important things to be doing! You'd think I existed at his very whim! Bah! Well that's it, I'm not spending any more time on this nonsense! On with it!