Franklin Miller's page

Determined to not let the others go into harm's way before him, Franklin rounded the corner and set himself into a defensive stance, frowning as he saw the walking dead as the room opened up. Still, he raised his fists, planning on trying to deck the first one that might walk up to him.

Definitely am for the full flavor

Franklin looked about at the shelving full of the dead, glad at this instance he didn't have any of the numerous phobias this place would certainly trigger. When the priestess mentioned just how long the church had been here, the accountant groaned inwardly, hoping that most of the current occupants had decided to continue their eternal sleep and it was just a small percentage that needed to be convinced to lay back down again. As he heard the clattering and dreaded xylophones, the young man rolled his shoulders and prepared to plant these bastards back in the ground.

Franklin looked at Docta G and the priestess confusedly as they both referred to him as F-Dawg, but he decided to just roll with it. He was self aware enough to know that he was definitely the 'square' of the bunch, and it wouldn't help things if he pointed out silly things like that.

When Joe prompted him, Franklin nodded and helped get the door open so they could put put the formerly dead people in the catacombs re-dead so that they could resume their rest and not cause the untimely deaths of others.

"Franklin...", the young man offered, his name likely swallowed up by the clergywoman's fangirl reaction to Docta G. He had to admit, the gnome was quite flamboyant, and likely almost always created a strong reaction of some kind. The accountant patiently waited for the priestess to produce her iPhone and a pen of some sort so the good Docta could oblige her (hopefully) and they could descend down and take care of the issue at hand.

Franklin admired the temple of Shelyn as they walked in, having mainly been privy to bland office interiors and whatever passed for decor in dimly lit bars as he struggled to attain a social life. His brow furrowed as the priestess talked of the potential walking dead and xylophones, not necessarily sure how it was connected but disturbed all the same.

Faith brought up a good point. Although they wouldn't be actively trying to shank him like the weirdo at the Toys R Us, he couldn't imagine the undead would go back to their rest peacefully. As the others finished conversing with the priestess, Franklin began stretching in the background, hoping it was just rats but preparing for percussion zombies.

When he had risen and woken up completely, Franklin texted his friends.

Bibi texted, she followed up on the victims of our necro-dude. He was a pretty out there guy, too creepy for the Urgathoan discord. She also said that the other goblin pair, Sears and Roebuck, are still at large and to keep an eye out for them. Everyone ready to head over to the church?

Franklin awoke the next morning, a little groggy but hangover-free thank Cayden. Not too aware of what had happened after the group had decided to call it a night, the accountant decided that might be a good thing. Swinging his legs off the bed, he got down on the floor and did fifty pushups as a warmup before launching into his morning routine. Lots of people made fun of him for working out before he did anything else, but he found it efficient to work up a sweat and then get clean before starting the day.

Sounds like a plan to me.

Franklin stood there confused for a moment as Joe passed the accountant his wallet, but he understood quickly enough. Apparently the Caydenite wasn't completely taking Faith's words as a joke, either. The young man subtly stuck the wallet in a front pocket of his pants, making a mental note to return it to the cleric tomorrow.

As the group made ready to leave, the accountant was dismayed to find that he was still buzzing a bit from the drinks. It probably would be ok. If he could manage, he'd probably wander off and go for a jog to burn off some of the alcohol.

Franklin shook his head at Joe's feat, wondering if the man would make it home conscious. Probably...he suspected the Caydenite was an old hand at this sort of drinking. He also wondered if Faith was kidding about stealing the cleric's wallet. Probably not. Yet another reason not to get plastered around this group.

"This has been great, guys...and gals. We checking in with the church tomorrow to see if that gig is still open? Do we want to maybe call that policewoman tomorrow, too, and see what's happening with that case?"

It took Franklin a moment to realize he was F Dawg. His face blushing crimson, he grinned weakly and raised his own glass and downed it with the others. Once the burn had subsided, he said, "I can text Bibi, if everyone wants to know if they have any other work for us. Though we could always check the classifieds, too. Might be good to seem at least somewhat able to scrounge up our own work, too."

I believe there were a couple outstanding items, like the church basement issue.

Franklin nodded. "I agree. A+%&$#+ could just say that we jumped him in the parking lot and then it's just his word against ours." Reaching forward, he grabbed a couple of the fries, opting for the ones furthest from the conglomeration of cheese. He enjoyed fried foods, but they made such a mess. Perhaps he could get through the impromptu meal without having to use a mountain of napkins.

Franklin nodded sagely. "Like for real real stabbed. A couple of times. Thankfully my pal Joe here was able to patch me up." He smiled over at Joe, then quickly looked away again just so there wouldn't be a vibe of 'that' sort. But was looking away quickly a vibe of 'that' sort? Oh dear.

Hearing the other three chime in, the accountant nodded. "Yeah...I don't think that would be very cool with regards to the families. Maybe we could edit it and only put on the fighting stuff with the giraffe, goblin, and necro-dude."

Franklin thought about it as Joe ordered the cheddar fries, deciding that eating a greasy, cheesy dish and drinking alcohol when he was unpracticed with such merry-making was a recipe for disaster. When Faithe and the cleric started talking about their next job, the accountant added, "I'm ok with resting for a day, too. Joe did a great job patching me up, but I'm feeling some ghost pains where that guy was shanking me. I think I need a day to convince myself I'm ok."

With that, he motioned for the waitress to refill his drink, the adrenaline starting to wear off as he slowly realized that he had literally been on top of a man punching him as the dude had been stabbing Franklin. This was for real, now. Not just an exciting alter-ego.

Franklin pushed his glass towards the center of the table, the atmosphere of the place (and the drink) getting him into a more relaxed, copacetic mood. Retracting his hand, the accountant watched as Joe poured the wine and then blessed the spirits, his small smile slipping into a wide grin at the tail end of the priest's speech. Franklin held up his glass in a quick toast before putting it to his lips and drinking down the liquid, gulping it down until only a few drops remained in the glass. "Oh s*$*...I think I'm gonna feel that soon."

Franklin stared at the 'minotaur' head again, squinting his eyes to try to determine if there was some clue as to what exactly the head had been removed from. He finally shrugged, having no idea of either the anatomy of a minotaur or a bull besides that they both had rather bullish heads. The place was still operating, so apparently it was not legit. Right?

When the flamboyant wizard cowboy came sauntering out and instructed the good Docta and whoever was close by to clear out, Franklin was more than happy to oblige, getting up and stepping several paces away, almost bumping into a drunken halfling before skillfully weaving around the tipsy little man.

The accountant watched in fascination as the wizard made the glass more or less explode, the young man's arms going up to protect his face before he realized the pieces were held in place. Lowering them, he watched the rest of the show silently, a grin on his face at both the spectacular display and the sound effects of the arcane drink artist. When the man bowed at the end of the display, Franklin clapped, though he did so quietly until others might join in.

Joining the table once again, he said (decidedly more quiet than Docta G), "That was really neat. Ummm, how are you supposed to drink it? Will it burn? I mean, like burn burn, not good burn?"

Franklin walked in with the others, feeling decidedly out of place in both the western-style theme and the cool 'extra' touches that have been added. Still, he had to admit that it kind of worked together, smiling shyly at the half-elven woman as they entered before joining the others at the table.

When they were waiting for their drinks, he joined in the conversation about the minotaur head, "Surely it's just a bull's head that they've dressed up, if it's real at all. I mean, minotaurs are sentient, right? Wouldn't it be a crime to mount it like that?" His questioning tone surely indicated that he wasn't certain at all.

When the shots came, the accountant picked his up, though he was a half-second behind everyone else when they tossed theirs back. He grimaced as the alcohol burned its way down, though the tingle as it hit his belly was rather pleasant. Maybe tonight could get even better, after all.

Franklin glanced over at Joe for a moment, somewhat surprised at the suddenly somber mood in the vehicle. Processing the info, he nodded quickly and then looked back in the road in time to see someone sneak in front of him. With practiced ease, the accountant calmly feathered the brake to accommodate the a*!##~@, sighing.

"Nice to know you have some restraint, at least. Not too sure about our other friends. They've got plenty of pluck, though, I'll give them that. We work pretty well together." The stress in Franklin's life seemed to be lessened, not heightened, as he began to see this line of work as being lucrative enough to disengage from his current lifestyle. He was actually eager to go to this 'job' now, even if the job so far had consisted of busting people in the grill and saving a friend from goblin torture.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14

Franklin drove his reliable vehicle behind the spectacular creation of Jack Frosty, listening to the Caydenite. While the accountant couldn't relate to the idyllic scenes of Joe's childhood, he could definitely sense the man's sincerity in talking about it. It must have been great, to actually have had fun as a family. Franklin had barely been on Lake Michigan...it was just something he took for granted, he supposed.

Thinking about it as Joe continued, Franklin's brow furrowed as the man talked about the difference between Cayden and the other deities, particularly Iomedae. While the young man understood the desire for a simple set of rules for one's followers, simple didn't always mean better. Still, Joe seemed a good enough sort, so Cayden couldn't be all that bad. He chuckled then grinned at Joe. "Sounds like paradise. Is it much different than your life right now, though?"

Franklin chuckled as Joe again called him his padawan. It would be kind of funny to have the little braided length of hair like the Star Wars figures, though he didn't say so out loud. He felt that encouraging the cleric's pet name would only increase the frequency of use.

The accountant cocked his head at Faith's suggestion for later, not really sure what kind of fun she might be referring to. Maybe he should have more than a couple drinks and find out. Or maybe she was thinking of assailing him with wasps. He wasn't too sure about Calistrians. Probably best not to think about it too much.

Franklin gave the other trio a short wave and then ducked into his car and started it up. It dutifully turned over quickly, the engine humming to life. While it wouldn't have the style or smooth beats of the Frosty Wagon, it would get him and Joe to the bar. "So why here, Joe? I figured a Caydenite would be more interested in a bigger city, or a country more into craft beers and such, like Germany."

Franklin was enjoying the light back and forth at the table, enjoying the not-so-spicy food when Docta G's friend came in. The young man looked at the flamboyant man skeptically as he approached, but relaxed a bit when he thought about it. Their gnomish companion was rather outgoing, as well, so the partnership made sense.

The accountant's eyes widened as JF made a not-so-subtle hit on Faith, wondering what mind-frame would allow a man to just go for it like that. She was cute, for sure, but that wasn't how it was supposed to go. He recoiled a bit when Jack turned his attention to him and Joe, but chuckled when the newcomer guessed the cleric's identity. Probably not too difficult, he imagined.

Apparently it was time to head to the Saloon, so Franklin rose from the table, making ready to pay his bill. "I've got room, if anyone wants to ride with me." Chances are not many would be in any condition to drive home, anyway.

Franklin's head buzzed as he thought about the other three's banter. His anxiety kicked in as the good Docta brought up hitting up the town afterwards. The accountant thought that THIS was the celebration of a job well done. Still, they had seen some pretty horrific sights, and while Franklin wasn't quite sure he was ready for a haze and public nudity, having a little fun with the others was in order. "I'm in."

It was said softly, but with resolve, fighting past the timid inclination to go home and get some rest so he could go bean-counting on the morrow. If he was going to do this, he was probably going to have to jump in if he wanted to do it well and make some money without dragging it out for months or years.

Looking at the eager expression on Faith's features, Franklin shook his head. "It's ok, all part of the joke, right?" The young man smiled at Faith, clearly trying to convey that he was alright. And truly he was...the momentary embarrassment was quickly forgotten as he sank back into his chair and thought about their achievement this day.

With what would surely be a plus mark with local law enforcement, the group would possibly get more lucrative leads and maybe preferential treatment from Johnny Law, should it come to it. That might come in handy. "You should definitely call her."

Speaking of calling, the accountant started thinking about an excuse to use to call in to work the next day. He had a feeling he wouldn't be rising very early.

Franklin relays the information Bibi had sent to the others, replying, Thanks for the help...very interested in knowing what his angle is. Maybe it was just big enough and out of the way enough to suit his purposes...can't imagine what he might have been up to. Which was true, in Franklin's boring, squarish mind, he couldn't comprehend what could cause a person to do something like that.

The young man blushed as the gnomish server made a show of giving Franklin his plate. If he had to do it over again, he would have changed his mind and taken his chances on the food. As the conversation progressed, Franklin quickly learned that his own life experiences were inconsequential to the broad breadth of life-learning that his compatriots had experienced, so he mainly listened, curious about his new friends and what had driven them together in this strange adventuring gig.

When Joe mentioned Officer Birg, Franklin shrugged, "Seemed like a decent person, a by the book sort." In Franklin's mind that's the sort you wanted in law enforcement. "Oh really? We should call her tomorrow and see what they've found out. Maybe it's part of something bigger. With the excitement clearly evident on his face, it's clear what his preference is.

As the group made their way to the Thai place, Franklin sent out a text to Bibi.

Bad guys taken down. Goblin in custody of authorities, working with some kind of necrophiliac creeper (human, also in custody). There were several dead women who were animated.

When the party was seated and orders were taken, Franklin opted for Thai chicken stir fry, though he softly said 'boring style' just as the waiter/ress was walking away. The accountant listened with interest as Joe spoke about the alcohol trade in Thailand, his eyes lighting up as the Caydenite spoke of tariffs and taxes.

"A few friends of mine went down to Mexico after we graduated. They said the tequila down there was cheaper than the water. I had an accounting technology conference my parents sent me off to, so I couldn't make it." Franklin grimaced as he took a swig of the rum, the taste foreign but the burn pleasant. He suspected it wouldn't take too many of those to loosen him up beyond repair, so the young man sipped slowly.

Franklin tried to wrap his head around the possibility of returning a giraffe to its natural habitat. Weren't those things native to Africa? The accountant was uncomfortable with the idea of leaving the state, let alone the continent. Maybe doing so would help him shed his shell, though...so maybe it was worth considering. After a couple drinks, maybe.

Franklin stretched his arms and legs, as much to assess any joint and ligament damage as to make sure he was still in fighting shape. His hands went subconsciously to the holes in his shirt, feeling the mended skin underneath the drying blood. He had never been religious, but such a thing was downright miraculous.

"Thai sounds nice...we can hit up the Elven soul food tomorrow, I'm thinking."

Franklin couldn't help but sigh as his wounds sealed up under the divine gift of Cayden Cailean. He stared down in a bit of dismay at the stains and holes in his clothing, but altogether it had been a successful venture. As Joe responded to the stony-demeanored officer, the accountant nodded his agreement with the Caydenite, though he thought they probably had differing opinions on celebrate. Maybe it would be ok to let loose a bit...

Franklin nodded in approval as Joe called the cops. While the accountant felt that problems such as these were better dealt with by 'professionals' such as the group, once the bad guys were apprehended it was better to hand them off to the law enforcement authorities so that the evildoers got their fair day in trial. It wouldn't do to get a reputation as reckless vigilantes.

Franklin looked at Joe a bit confused, wondering why the cleric was calling him his student. Maybe it was the blood loss, but it took him a moment to realize that the Caydenite was joking about that, as well. Kind of, anyway.

The accountant stood up, wincing as the knife wounds burned uncomfortably. Franklin was starting to feel rather...ecstatic. The fight with the goblins had been in earnest, but had almost seemed a joke. This had been all too real, with mortal consequences if things had gone the other way. The young man didn't know when he had felt so hurt yet so exhilarated!

He scowled as the goblin started speaking again, wondering what gibberish he was droning on about.

Franklin was amazed how little his wounds hurt him at the moment, though the practical side of his brain was sure that was just the adrenaline and shock. The knife wound would likely require stitches, though it would be a cool scar story, he supposed.

Snapping out of his reverie at Joe's question, the accountant's still-flushed face managed to turn a shade darker. "I bought them for apprehending a perp, Joe...that's just all they had." Franklin tossed the manacles to Joe and Faith, wondering if he should try to secure the other man. After a moment, he shrugged...the guy seemed out cold and probably wouldn't feel too great upon waking.

Franklin gasped in pain, tears filling his eyes as the knife wound burned in his shoulder suddenly and terribly. He registered the blood flung from the blade as his own, but furrowed his brow and focused, growling through the pain as he refused to relinquish his grip on the thug even as the man brandished the dagger underneath him, jockeying for position and then slamming his fist down at the man's face once again, hearing and feeling a satisfying thud.

Maintain Grapple: 1d20 + 7 + 5 ⇒ (14) + 7 + 5 = 26
Nonlethal Damage+FIRE: 1d6 + 3 + 1d4 ⇒ (6) + 3 + (3) = 12

Will save: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8

Franklin felt the man's touch and winced in anticipation as the cold, necromantic energy sapped his life's energy and spread a cold tingling throughout his body. The young man gritted his chattering teeth and worked his way to a more advantageous position, attempting to smash his flaming fist into the creep's face.

Maintain Grapple: 1d20 + 7 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 7 + 5 = 25
Unarmed Strike Damage + FIRE: 1d6 + 3 + 1d4 ⇒ (2) + 3 + (2) = 7

Franklin barely noticed the giraffe and attached goblin at first, so intent was he upon the perp the group was chasing. Starting to sweat, he grinned as he slowly closed the distance with the man, his eyes widening as he saw the stairs and the large creature next to it.

As the man started to climb the steps, the accountant continued running at him full speed, leaping a few feet before the steps in an attempt to flying tackle the man off the stairs and to the ground.

CMB to Grapple: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21

Brow furrowing at the sudden patch of glass in front of the group, the accountant just dove through the portal, hoping to turn his jump into a forward roll and continue his momentum. If he could pull it off. If not, he'd probably just brain himself on the concrete and hope everyone else took down the bad guy.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (15) + 7 = 22

Not exactly surprised by the man's sudden departure, the accountant started running after him, rather glad he had decided to not go the traditional sword and board route of adventuring. He'd probably trip over his boots and slice himself.

Franklin's eyes widened as the dead women started to flood the aisle behind the fleeing perp. If the man controlled these things, maybe they would stop when he did. Seeing the first thing approaching, he ran diagonally, leaping off the ground towards the shelving to her side, then springing back to the aisle. To the young man's chagrin, it was rather clumsy due to the shelving being less anchored than one would think, but it ultimately got the job done.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14

Franklin looked at the man skeptically, arching an eyebrow, "Riiiight, and what exactly were you contracted to do in an abandoned toy shop full of walking corpses?" Aware that things might devolve with the rather large fellow, the accountant started side-stepping away from the group, keeping his body square with the man to be fully prepared should he attack.

Franklin looked up from the grim task of checking the re-corpsified bodies as he noticed a sound nearby. Perhaps it was the adrenaline heightening his senses, but the accountant was sure he could hear someone or something close by. He looked aimlessly at the ground, wondering if he should tell everyone and risk alerting whatever it was, or just play cool and see what developed.

Franklin decided that whatever it was probably was going to start a confrontation anyway, so he got into a ready stance as he said, "There's something over there in the shadows, guys. Let's check it out, but carefully..."

Franklin frowned as his attack dropped the woman in front of him to the ground with a smack of finality, feeling a pang of guilt. Guilt gave way to near disgust as the other three managed to separate the bottom half from the top of the third woman. Hanging his head for a moment to collect his thoughts, he looked up as Faith started talking.

"Let's check for ID. Their families deserve to know, little solace that it will be." Of course, Franklin was thinking an anonymous email as opposed to an in-person visit. This wasn't the kind of news he wanted Last Call to be known for.

Getting over himself, he edged forward with Joe, taking a look around for a goblin, a giraffe, or anything else that might be interesting.

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (13) + 8 = 21

Franklin recoiled as the woman suddenly reached up and grabbed the Caydenite's ankle, the inhuman moan escaping her lips unsettling. He stammered out, "Wha...?" as Docta G started throwing down some sick beats and Faith ended (again) the life of the blonde at their feet. As he saw the other women start to shamble out, the accountant gulped, looked down at his fiery fist, then snapped it out twice in quick succession at the face of the next woman. He sincerely hoped there were no feminists about.

Flurry 1: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (7) + 3 = 10
Damage + FIRE: 1d6 + 3 + 1d4 ⇒ (6) + 3 + (3) = 12
Flurry 2: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 3 = 19
Damage + FIRE: 1d6 + 3 + 1d4 ⇒ (6) + 3 + (2) = 11

Franklin reflexively leaned down and stepped forward as the woman fell down in front of the group, putting his hands on her back around the wound and looking up at Joe helplessly. When the Caydenite moved in and started speaking, the accountant moved his hands out of the way, checking to see if there were any restrictive bindings that needed to be removed.

The young man went pale as the seriousness of the situation suddenly caught up with him. Up until now, it had seemed a grand adventure...sure, there had been danger, but mostly excitement. Nothing had really seemed, well, mortal, until this moment. Perhaps he should have brought the lead up earlier, or insisted they move more quickly.

Franklin's heartrate started to accelerate as they heard the noises behind the door, the young man whispering a quick mantra he had learned at the dojo he had been attending for a short time. He had always considered it just some trash filler that the instructor had given them to take up a portion of the hour lesson, but it did seem to help calm him somewhat.

"Shall we see what's behind door number one?" The accountant didn't feel at all humored by the glib question, but that was the kind of cocky thing that adventurers said before dying horribly kicking some ass.

Franklin nodded eagerly at Joe's suggestion. "Sounds like someone's in trouble...please do."

As the group came upon the unlocked (forcibly) back door, Franklin thought through bankruptcy laws and who in fact likely owned this property. Whoever it was wouldn't be happy and would definitely have the law on their side if they decided to press charges, but the accountant decided their cause was righteous and worth the risk. They couldn't allow the goblin and giraffe duo to continue whatever they were about. Plus, the young man trusted the kitsune, perhaps more than he should.

So he stood there uncomfortably, looking around outside in case anyone should happen upon them while Faith inspect the door.

Franklin held out a hand to try to stop Joe's progress momentarily. "Hold up a second...I'm coming with you." With that, the accountant moved with the Caydenite to inspect the area.

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (12) + 8 = 20

When Docta G mentioned the elven joint's name and reputation (he had no idea what slaps meant, but the context was clear), with Faith joining in, the young man felt obliged to concur. "Yeah, that sounds really good."

Franklin nodded in agreement with Faith's decision to visit the old toy store. It was a shame Toys R Us had gone bankrupt...the novelty of the brick and mortar chain had left the accountant a little bummed out for a couple of weeks after the store went under, but with wizards putting together their collective spellcraft to get deliveries to consumers in ridiculous time at low, competitive prices, it was a wonder any physical stores remained open.

Franklin smirked as Brother Joe spoke of all of the stores being haunted, though his eyes widened as Faith detailed out where exactly she would haunt. Places like that existed? The young man decided to etch at least a couple of those names in memory so he could frequent them at a later date.

At the rapper gnome's reluctance to engage with goblins once more, the accountant could only agree. The last couple encounters had been a relative circus. Still, paid work was paid work, and any group had to start small and make a name for themselves. As they made ready to depart to the rail station, Franklin said idly, "I'd haunt my parents' business. Watching them pretend nothing was disturbing their perfect little world would be entertaining, to me."

Franklin thought over Joe's words carefully, then said in a very mild tone, "Besides maybe gathering some things is there anything preventing us from going after this now? I kind of have a day gig already, at least for now..."

Franklin whipped his head around as the wasps started falling to the ground, the Caydenite no longer in trouble, as the leaving bar patron exclaimed about the show the group was putting on. As Docta G laid down the sick beats, the accountant continued to wave the rag around dexterously, a wide smile on his face, until he realized the towel wasn't on fire anymore and the whole place was silent.

He looked at the bar top, face burning red, and gently placed his prized weapon upon the wood. Anxious to change the subject, he nodded enthusiastically along with Faith. "The giraffe and his goblin handler seem like a pretty good story, if nothing else." Honestly, Franklin was quite desperate for this adventuring gig to become lucrative enough to not have to labor for his family anymore. He didn't want to seem desperate, though.

Franklin looked at Faith in amazement, glancing at the huge wasp at her side. He had heard that Calistrians, both men and women, were super good in the sack...but if this was the kind of temper that came with it, it might be less than worth it. Focusing, he kept waving the repellant rag around, working it steadily closer to the small cloud of buzzing insects around the priest's head.

Doing the flaming rag wiggle worm: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16