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No no, good luck to YOU
For some reason I don't quite trust you...
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Roman has been sitting quietly after being corrected about the nature of Lokien's hammer. After Vashti's outburst he starts laughing. Wow. I'm glad I'm not the least worldly one here.
It's hard to complain when a net positive modifier is basically unavoidable.
I think I'll refrain from further Tavern discussion at this point, though it's fun, I don't want to get overly attached to Teflin. Well, aren't you a ray of hope and optimism.
A tiefling. Acid and fire no good. Must use hands. Seems to use weapons. Get inside his guard, let his cumbersome weapon undo him. He wanders over to Lokien and Teflin. EXxuse me, I don't believe arTHUR heard you. What does he... he concentrates a moment what does he LOOK like? I may have seen him outSIDE.
I know about drinkiNG, it's common where I'm from. It seems the man who told me to come here misUNderstood as well. No issue. Izzere a parTY tonight? He looks about, simultaneously absorbing the new and exciting things and seeming a tiny bit uncomfortable not knowing how to react. He shifts his weight awkwardly.
Roman looks down at the glass, looks up at the bartender, then over to Sothonin. I'm sorry. You seem to be mis.. UNderstanding me. he pauses trying to think of the word for understanding. I was hoping to buy wholesale. Cleaning wounds and maKING potions and the like. I was told this was the place to purchASE alcoHOL.
A large man wearing simple artisan-appropriate clothing walks in. He doesn't look at anyone in particular, and speaks in an odd accent you don't recognize. His tone seems off, like the parts of his words that should be relaxed and said quickly he emphaSIZes. I don't SUppose you has raw alcohol?
Presenting Roman Mitkova, Brawler and former bandit. Ability Scores::
STR: 19. DEX: 18. CON: 16. INT: 15. WIS, CHA: 16. Race::
Human. Classes::
Brawler Traits::
Bandit, Criminal, On the payroll. Alignment::
CN, I'm thinking he's more a product of his environment than a completely amoral psychopath sort of chaotic neutral. Background::
Roman is a former Bandit who was born in a sort of gang shantytown in the middle of the wilderness. He was raised in the bandit's lifestyle, fighting the other children for bits of food and the occasional copper piece. As a young man he was forced to go on raids and use his prodigious strength and base cunning to feed the clan. He was eventually caught and arrested and spent time incarcerated. He was freed after a few years, and was almost immediately approached by the late Professor to work as a guide through the mountains where his old band operated. Knowing that he couldn't go back to his old gang, Roman agreed. Roman surprised the professor by dispatching a few skeletons with his bare hands, and was hired as Lorrimor's personal guard for the rest of his trip. On the way the professor taught Roman a few basics of alchemy, as that is what he was studying at the time to see if it was possible to create a substance that would allow physical objects to interact with incorporeal creatures without magic and Roman had wanted to learn about it since he saw what acid could do to a ruffian. RP: Roman was tired. It had been a long day since he had left the last little town where he had stayed a night, and longer still since he had parted ways with his last source of stable income and only real friend Professor Lorrimor. Roman didn't usually get along with priests and such and since the good professor had business with clerics of Pharasma it seemed prudent to part ways before he caused trouble.
He had learned to curb his robbery habits and was getting used to the interactions of civilized people, but he still felt that there was always something in the ways such people said things that he just didn't quite get. So when the man he asked about the whereabouts of his former bandit clan flinched and ran at the mention of his old chief Snipes, Roman didn't think much of it. Roman decided that the old hideout was as good a place to start as any. Roman didn't want to rejoin the clan per se, but he didn't really know what else to do so he decided to take the risk that attempting to rejoin the clan after spending a year away would be, besides he wanted to see his mother. The first thing he noticed at the gate to the camp was that despite being in the same place as always, on a small plateau reachable only by some haphazardly carved stairs going up a steep hill, was that it was significantly smaller. My name is Roman Mitkova, son of Thalia Mitkova. I'm here to see Snipes. The man at the gate, younger than Roman, looked at him incredulously. He spoke in the clan dialect. Dunno if you'ze think you'ze crackin' me, but Snipes been red fuur moons. I don't know if you think you're being funny, but Snipes died months ago The words sounded off to Roman, but he understood as well as he always had. 'sides, ent no babier named Mitkova round here since Gregor came up.
Where's Gregor? He'll be knowin' me. Gregor came out with the entourage of a chief. He had three women and a handful of bodyguards.Roman! Tima been, eh? Thought you been done caged! Why you'ze here? You gotta know you'ze gon be pounded! Roman fingers his bandolier holding the vials of acid and alchemist's fire he'd made. I ent here to rejoin, I'ze just lookin' to find my mam. Birdy over there said you gave her the leather? Ent quite all of it, woman was attached to the old order. So I sent her to the pit. She sided with the old leader when Gregor came into power. So he killed her, I guess I was wrong to think she was exiled. Why you'ze gone an killed her? None o the old chiefs killed none but the one came afore themselves? Gregor laughs. We moved on. New practice. Those who dun side with Gregor get them's offed. Now tima you get's out. You ent one of us no more. Roman walked away, making a mental note to come back. he wouldn't have wanted revenge before meeting the professor as people dying was simply part of bandit life, but he felt something was different about the people who would want to kill there own comrades. He planned to find work in the nearest town, and using the money he had from Lorrimor and the money from whatever job he could get, he'd make enough fire, acid, and whatever else he could and he'd burn the camp to the ground. he was alone, but he would beat them the same way the professor had taught him to beat undead. By supplementing his strength with his intellect. |