Nice. It's a good thing I'm within 30 Feet now...
Search Posts
"Aye, ya stinkin' squab, we needs ta know where them Tower Girls be.", he says menacingly, ending with sticking out his tongue while waggling his fingers, thumbs in ears, at Funster. I wonder if this devil is blind in both eyes...
Climbing to his feet, Clarence glances around looking for likely escape paths. In an attempt to preempt the sorcerer's escape, he heads toward the kitchen entry, while keeping one eye on the foe.
Clarence groans and his eyes flutter back open as the healing surge washes over him. He snaps to, growls and fires his crossbow, point blank from his prone position at the sorcerer.
A beaten down and bleeding Clarence gathers himself and goes in for one more grab on the sorcerer. "Squirmy little rat, get over here..." he grumbles, exhausted from all this floundering around.
"RRRRrrraaaaaaaawwwwwwrrrrrr!!!!" comes the wailing holler as Clarence charges across the open space between him and sorcerer. He leaps into the air (not a pretty site considering his size) and flies at the man, arms and legs a-flailing.
"Argh!" shouts Clarence as the Magic Missle strikes him. "Oh, you've called down the pain now, slime!" With a growl, Clarence steps to the side of the table to get a clear line of sight and fires another bolt at the sorcerer. "Grab that pig, Relan!"
"Relan! Light us up, blast-it-all! My lantern's on the mule! I'll keep 'im dodging!" Clarence reloads and fires another bolt into the darkness, thankful his crossbow is still in one piece this time.
"Woodpeckers..." Clarence mutters and the lets the bolt fly towards his best guess as to where the sorcerer was last standing.
"'Ay, elf. If you were gonna toss your little fire pots, now's a right-good time," says Clarence as he shoulders his crossbow, pointing it in the general direction of the last position the Plutivarch was seen.
"What? You mean cause a ruckus in the middle of a big ol' public auction?" Clarence's face splits into a mile-wide grin, "Count me in! That sounds like more fun and racin' anacondas!"
"Let's see what he have in 'ere.", Clarence says as he peers subtly through the crack and into the glittering light of the adjoining room.
"Aye, so thar's someone in that place, is there?", he says eyeing the boarded up windows. "Sounds like a job for a smoothie like meself. I may be big, but I'm pretty quiet."
"Nobody minds if I borrow this here gem, do ya? Lookin' to get me a new crossbow after that hairless rat blew up my other one," Clarence says as he grabs one of the garnets from the loot pile. "Just one of them should do it."
Clarence grunts.
Clarence lumbers over to the curtains, rips them down and starts stomping on them to put them out. "Blasted little tart *mumble* flinging fire *mumble* hog's teat *mumble*..."
"Meet muh dagger named Pig-Sticker, you...," followed by an emphatic *hrumph* of effort and the thunk of a thrown dagger. "Pig!"
"You snake-bit bastards!"
Clarence was caught with a pensive look on his face as Fulmen was playing with the box and the two dog-faced creatures appeared. Snapping like a cobra tongue, he flicks out his heavy crossbow and fires a bolt at the closest one. "Fetch you a bolt there, Fido!"
"Well now. Let's see what we got here. I'm not sure I trust a polecat like that right out of the box. Lemme see if there be a baited trap here for us," he says as he half-squats and cautiously waddles up to the device, glaring suspiciously at it the whole way up to inspect it. Craft (traps):
"Yee-haw! To capturing us some adventure!", says Clarence as he hoists his tankard, sloshing foam over the side, and then attacks it with a frothy fervor. When the last drizzles of mead finish pouring through his beard, the burly man slams the now-empty vessel down on the oak table, a satisfied grin on his foamy lips. "... and the last one over the manor wall is a month-old snail splatter!"
"Ha, Ha, Ha! Give 'er time muskrat and we'll be sharin' plenty o' breakfasts, me and you!", says Clarence while waving the flopping turkey leg in Braelex's direction.
Clarence puts down the half-eaten turkey leg long enough to smear globs of grease across the invitation while he reads it. "Leapin' lizards! This is great news! I bet we'll get to kill some spiders. Or maybe a 'gator or two!", he says as flecks and chunks of turkey spatter on the table.
Yee-haw -- frogs on a log! clarence.
|