This is stormraven offering Heiwa. All I need to do is flesh out his backstory. Thanks for considering him!
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Heiwa nods pleasantly at the purple halfling and gets to the point. "I compliment you on your skillful exit... but you have left many thirsty people back at the tavern. I need you to return the liquor you stole... now. Otherwise, I'm obligated to stop you. Drop the bag, please."
Status:
The monk says, "If you can make me invisible, this might prove easier." Whether or not he vanishes from sight, Heiwa tightens the chinstrap of his conical hat and pours on the speed - sprinting after the deranged halfling at a ground-eating pace.
Heiwa finishes his tea before leaving. He ties the shirt around his waist, in preparation for the star-t of their trek.
"I am Heiwa." says Heiwa.
The monk, having returned to the table, considers. "I have no other plans and your tea is acceptable... I will help."
The monk rises with a sigh and winds through a quick series of martial katas before moving purposefully toward the nekkid halfling. "Give it up, friend. Your kung fu is not strong today."
Heiwa watches the action curiously. He knocks on the table, to be polite, and then peeks under it at the wizard. "Excuse me, o' ancient one, I have a question. There is a clearly demented naked man having his life threatened by two others, presumably over a minor theft. Is this normal in your country?"
The monk replies benignly, "Zok is deluded... and purple." He seems to find the flying kegs amusing, not alarming.
Not entirely familiar with western ways... Heiwa looks to the others from beneath the brim of his conical hat to see if this is 'normal'. "Tell me, are nude halflings common in a tavern?"
Checking in!
"Pardon an old man for prying but what brings you 3 to the corner inn?" It takes the monk a moment to catch up with the conversation. Translating from the local patois which sounded like gobble-gobbling into the divine language of his birth, formulating an appropriate response, and translating it back into gobble-gobble was hard work. His first response to the wizard's question is literal. "Thirst and karma brought me here. I am on the path of enlightenment... or possibly vengeance. They are close cousins sometimes." As she reaches the table she takes some gold pieces out of her leather bikini top and gentley places them on the table, eyes locked on the monk. Some communication doesn't require pesky translation. The monk hops up and pulls out a chair for the sorceress. "Please grace this seat with your assets." He says guilelessly.
The monk nods and smiles non-commitally, "I am just a traveler... and I once had the honor of being ignored by Hinzaku's great-great-great-great-granddaughter." He belts out a short laugh, amused at the memory.
Heiwa pushes out a chair ceremoniously for the newest visitor even as he responds to Glory with a smile, "Steel has logic but little wisdom. The wisdom is in whether to use steel and that rests in the heart of the man with the blade. Fortunately the heart can learn and apply many types of wisdoms."
Heiwa casually surveys the room from beneath the brim of his hat. A twinge of skepticism rolls through him regarding the prowess of some patrons. What can a few halflings accomplish with the aid of a bearded old man in a pointy hat? The monk shrugs to himself and looks for an empty seat. There are few choices. He decides to sit next to the lumberman for the excellent reason that the man has a hat appropriately sized for his head. The flappy ears may display a flair for the unnecessary but the sturdy knit cap isn't ostentatious like all the high-n-pointy and large-brimmed affairs sported by the wizards in the tavern. A proportioned hat suggests a man with a proportioned mind. Happy with his choice, Heiwa pulls a chair out for himself then springs over the back of it and lands in a sitting position. "Hello, strangers. I am a traveler from afar. I have come to share wisdom, learning... and your table."
A busty barmaid greets you as you walk in. "Hallo, I am Greta. May I take your order?" A small, whipcord-thin, Tian man enters the tavern. If he tops 5'4" and weighs 130 pounds soaking wet, well, the joke would be on you. Because while you have his height right, he weighs in at a hefty 13 pounds (including negligible water weight). He wears a conical bamboo hat slung rakishly low over his eyes with a single lotus blossom tied to the brim. It is, sadly, the most fashionable part of his outfit. His clothes are a simple white cotton gi and grey hakama tied with a leather thong. His feet are shod in common leather flip-flops that strike the floor with a rhythmic fwip-fwip sound. His dark, inscrutable eyes sketch the barmaid briefly, particularly her curves. He gives her a tight smile then nods politely as his hands come together in a lightning snap salute, stiff right hand meeting the bunched fist of his left, forming a pyramid before his eyes. His voice is intense and somewhat staccato, "Your bosom impresses even the Gods, Greta. Greetings! I am Heiwa - the Iron Fist of Harmony. I would like some tea please... and to know what you are doing after work this evening." |