Herman, already attired in armor, shield, and sword, leans over to grab his pack.
"Good point. If that coin is sitting around, it won't be for long!"
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"Just because someone's on the take, that's not call for a blade in the guts. Leastwise, not how I see it, not even in Riddleport. I agree we should talk with Saul, see just what kind of trouble he pulled us into." Herman moves towards the entrance to Saul's office, but lets the others take the lead, keeping a wary eye on the gambling floor.
Herman spots the potential troublemakers, and moves to get closer. He doesn't say anything, but looks hard at the four men by the half-elf.
Just an FYI: I'll be heading for vacation from the 12th-20th. I'll have my phone and will try to post but if necessary, please bot me. Thanks!
Herman barges his way into the pantry, readying his shield as he goes. "Gotta be a poison snake! Squeezers won't drop ya that fast!"
Confused, Herman also heads into the kitchen.
Herman moves to introduce himself to the new person. "Hi, I'm Herman. I guess I am the big scary guy who hits things and gets hit when needed. Pleased ta meetcha." He extends his hand and offers a firm, but not bone crunching, grip for the handshake.
In that case, I'll take average!
"Yeah, lass, I feel the same. He's got somethin' to sell, and we're the target audience. I'll keep my eyes open, suggest you do the same."
Herman helps clean up and then stomps upstairs with the others. "Looks like we just got targets pai Ted on our backs, folks. Better be on our guard all the time, now."
HP darn. BAB +1
Shield Focus taken.
"Hm. I woulda preferred we whoop dem boys and toss me out the back. Wasn't gonna stab them, 'less they took a swing first. No call ta worry 'bout it now, anyways, dead is dead, after all. At least noone is gonna try an' rip off da Goblin on our watch now." Herman helps to divest the recently departed of their worldly possessions, then carts their bodies out.
Herman moves up quickly, getting close to the loudest fellow with his shield already on his arm. "Listen closely, friend. Stop with the ruckus, and let's step outside to discuss your beef."
Herman needs to save up a bit more, then will be getting some masterwork full plate fashioned.
"Uh, I guess I can bounce and watch the door. So long as no-one uses more crazy fire blinding spells, I'm pretty good in a scrap. At the least, I can certainly take a punch from anything short of a troll!"
"Er...yeah, I can do that. Seems like your little place got kinda busted up, that normal around here?" Sheathing his blade, Herman looks around the room, wondering if the little devil creature is still around.
"Sounds like a madhouse out there. Stupid blind spell, I coulda done some good work against these fools, but I can't see a thing!" Herman draws his sword, but keeps it low and by his leg, where he is unlikely to accidentally stab anyone.
<This is me, blinded!>
I'm game to continue. Glad to hear you're doing better, GM
Jeez sorry GM. Hope you're healing is rapid!
Herman does not resist Keybella's guidance, holding his shield at the ready. "Yeah, got flashed by whatever that thing was. Hope it ain't gonna stay like this, tough to fight if I can't see."
Herman instinctively draws his shield to his arm, dropping into a defensive spot and feeling around for Keybella. "Key! You okay? Zarine?"
"So, when do we win this game or what? Do we just keep dropping coins in the thing forever or do we win ever?" Herman digs another coin out of his pouch with exaggerated motions, dropping it onto
Herman let's out a belch, partially hidden behind his hand, before laughing at Keybella's line. "Sure, sure, keep Ol' Herman outta trouble. Ain't much in this town to get in trouble with, though." He places another silver down on a random spot.
Watch out for all that caffeine, btw. Jittery hands, lack of attention, blurry vision are all signs of caffeine (and any stimulant reall) overdose. Been there, done that, be careful, GM.
Herman places a silver on 10.
Herman moves to the spinning wheel game, with both Keybella and his own mug in one hand. He reaches for his coin purse to lay some bets down.
perception (if applicable)
"Yeah, okay. If you need a hand, just say the word and I'll be there right quick." Herman sets Keybella's mug in clear sight and makes sure he has a decent line towards the door. As they head out he glares at the scholar types as if daring them to start trouble.
Herman looks at the pretty lady when she says he looks lucky, then laughs loudly. "Lucky! HA! Yeah, that's a good one, lass. Take a good look at this face, tell me it's seen good luck so far." Seeing her not drinking, Herman downs his mug of ale and reaches over to rescue hers from loneliness. "Course, I ain't dead yet, either, so there's gotta be something to what you say." Scratching his ears, he mulls over her question for a bit before answering. "Nope. Ain't no cloud or nothing I ever seen. Course, I ain't been here in Riddleport too long, but sorry, can't help you there."
Herman raises an eyebrow as the tall brunette sits next to Keybella, then turns and holds up three fingers to the bartender. Once served, he hands the cleric her mug without a word, then offers the new one to the newcomer. "Hey, I'm Herman. This is Keybella. You here to win big, too?" He sips from his mug and leans against the bar again.
perception "Hey there. I'm Herman, miss. How you doin'?" Oblivious to the woman's interests, Herman nods his head towards her and continues to drink his ale.
"So...what do we do now? I don't see no-one else that wrote their name down sitting down to play, do you? Do we just belly up to a table and start betting, or what?" Herman orders an ale for himself after downing his shot of whiskey and sips it alongside the cleric.
"Good idea, bad idea, meh. Seems like a chance to make some coin where I don't have to get cut or smashed up. If I lose, well, I can always go pick up a guardsman job or something, right?" Looking at the thing hanging from the ceiling and offering Keybella a mug of ale, Herman chuckles. "What, that little old thing? I bet one good smack and it'd go flying like a clubbed trout. Probably a fake, anyways, right?"
Herman smiles crookedly at the bored guard after signing on the dotted line. "So, do I just sit down at any of these tables? Or is there a place for the big game I'm supposed to join?" In his confusion, Herman manages to wander near the bar, where he orders an ale and a whiskey, then sits to look around the room.
Herman enters the room and stops just past the doorways, mouth slightly open. "Huh? This place is bigger than I thought it'd be. Say, fella, where do I go to put my name in for that competition thingy?" He addresses the nearest guard before being directed to the scantily clad ladies. Once he signs his name, with blocky and sloppy writing, he winks at the "succubi" in a garish manner then heads to the gambling tables set up for the tournament. He doesn't think twice about his appearance, big and scarred human wearing battle worn breastplate with a utilitarian longsword at his hip and large round wooden shield across his back. |