Sheeba's page

Outside the lodge...

Sheeba just smiles at Finarin's offer. Something tells the elf that she would indeed run his establishment. First, though, he'd have to acquire it.

"Farrre the well, Flea," Sheeba purrs, seeming to have regained the rolling tip of her tongue after the emotional exchange, "I'll see morrre of you laterrr. Much morrre..." She winks and waves goodbye as the companions depart. When she notices Cyrus walking backwards as he leaves, she rolls her eyes in exasperation and walks away.

Cyrus is sure that she puts an extra sway on her lithe hips as she does so, framing her walk perfectly with her gently swishing tail.

Just as Cyrus and Ibid exit the lab, a beautiful catfolk waitress rushes out and enfolds the weakened Ibid in a strong hug. "I put down my towel and ran over as soon as I heard!" Sheeba exclaims, running a velvety hand over Ibid's cheek and looking him in the eyes like a caring nurse inspecting a patient, "That experience must have been awful. When you've completed your business for the Society, come back to the taproom and you can have all the drinks you like."

She turns to the ninja and storms over to him. "And you! Cyrus!" she begins, her fangs inches away from his nose, "If you ever come to Absalom again without visiting me, I'm going to have these for breakfast." No one present needs to look down to see what she's cupping.

Suddenly, Sheeba pulls Cyrus close for a tender embrace. "It wasn't your fault," she whispers in his ear, the condensation from her hot breath leaving his lobe feeling cooler, "Don't blame yourself. Come by if you need me to help you feel... better... about it all."

"Amarrranti!" purrs Sheeba fondly, "Rrreally good to see you again. Yourrr companions arrre that way. Please feel frrree to come overrr and see me afterrr, though. We'll see if we can't find something... prrroductive... for those muscles of yourrrs to do."

The svelte cat woman moves in close and softly strokes Amaranti's biceps with her sharp feline claws, leaving small marks on his skin that soon raise and redden. With a sly wink, she disappears into the crowd, her slender hips swaying from side to side in exactly the way to present Amaranti with the best view.

"Grrrr" Sheeba growls at Luna with feline ferocity as the dog does an about face. The waitress turns to Pooka and snaps, "Keep yourrr pet underrr contrrrol orrr he'll no longer be allowed in the Lodge taprrroom." This time, her tail does not stray towards the halfling's chin as she departs.

"Finarrrin is that way, small man," the server says slyly, "And if you keep yourrr hands to yourrrself, I'm surrre the horrrdes will be similarrrly able to restrrrain themselves. Oh, and when you get therrre, ask Lorrrd Moonstep to tell Cyrrrus 'Purrrr' frrrom me." Despite rebuffing him, the waitress 'accidentally' slides her tail under the much smaller halfling's chin when she turns around to return to her duties.

"Don't rrrely upon it," says a voice smooth as silk, as a beautiful svelt catfolk woman sidles up to Bugdip's table with a glass of refreshing fly-water, "Ambrrrus Valsin has a bug up is ass big enough to feed yourrr family forrr a week. Worrrry not, though, he does need new Pathfinderrrs desperrrately afterrr last week's attack. He'll be pleased that you'rrre not seeking a field commission, too, and arrre going thrrrough the proper channels."

Yes, but the full quote was:

"Holy Cyrusing Batman! Is it over already?"

"If I told you the ingrrredients", whispers Sheeba, leaning in close next to Cyrus, "I might blush. Some things arrre best left undiscoverrred."

The sultry waitress returns to the kitchens to retrieve orders for the few patrons that are actually present.

As Kevin passes her, Sheeba rushes forwards intent upon grabbing the turkey. She nimbly leaps up in the air, attempting to clear the next obstacle.

Acrobatics, DC 15: 1d20 + 3 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 3 + 6 = 14

Almost landing on Kevin, the cat woman grabs for the turkey.

Grapple, CMD 18: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (20) + 10 = 30

With extreme prejudice, Sheeba wraps her nimble arms and legs around the mutated turkey and refuses to let go.

"It is mine!" she yells, sensing victory. Of course, the other companions still have a few moments to wrestle Kevin away...

Sheeba deliberately waits until after Kevin has slipped past the heroes before attempting her run through the oven (anything but another swim).

Constitution check: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (14) + 0 = 14

Once through the oven, she runs through the crowd to stand next to Cyrus before the hedgegrow.

Forgot to mention, "The Grand Lodge" only provides an obstacle on the last round (ie. this is your actual last chance to grab Kevin from the crowd). The crowd doesn't grab him or hinder you on your way through. Treat it as a DC 0 / DC 0 card that can't be used for the "3 moves forwards" thing.

Seeing her customers all take short-cuts, Sheeba also attempts to take a short-cut, going a different way through the crowd (the thicker part) to hopefully end up just beyond the hurdle.

Intimidate: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 2 = 21
Overrun: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (8) + 8 = 16

Managing to bully the crowd enough to get past, she leaps over the heads of the passers-by and lands next to Kevin just as he makes his escape and runs under the hurdle. She grins broadly back at Ibid and Miro. The game is still on!

**EDIT** In my original post, I forgot how to count to 3.

Sheeba, thoroughly soaked and utterly unhappy, attempts to swim again through the muck.

Sheeba swim: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 1 = 18

Rejoicing to be free of the mud, the catwoman gets to the pole leading up the roof at the same time as the ninja. Eschewing the crowded way, her keen eyes search for a shortcut.

Sheeba acrobatics: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (19) + 9 = 28

Finding it, Sheeba slips stealthily into the shadows and onto the crowded street.

"You'll... *gasp*... bloody well die forrr this... *gasp*... Keleshi rrrascal!" Sheeba manages to splutter as she drags herself inexpertly through the mud.

Strangely absent from the tavern, Sheeba meets the companions at the starting line. She is in her "running gear" which consists of a simple modesty cloth around her waist and a sash to wrap her upper section in. Velvety fur (has it been oiled?) glistens in the midday sun as she bends her lithe limbs. Onlookers are unsure if she is stretching or dancing very slowly. Regardless, the onlookers cannot help but look on.

Yep, did full stats for Sheeba!

"Oh, good! You'rrre herrre at last," purrs Sheeba when she sees the companions approach, "That turrrkey is as good as mine. Still, I don't mind a bit of frrriendly competition. I know forrr a fact that at least one of you is limberrr enough to match me... nearrrly."

As Sheeba continues to do her exercises, the companions are unsure as to whether or not those poses are even possible for a human to perform. They become sure when Sheeba bends over backwards to touch her ankles.

I've now finished the Turkey Run Game Board here! I'll get some descriptions, any further rules and initiative rolls out soon.

While there are other contestants, we know which are the ones we care about winning. They all eventually either drop off or fall behind - except for the PCs and the nimble Sheeba.

"I was therrre, you just failed yourrr purrrr-ception check."

Sheeba's note falls out of Cyrus' clothing as he strips for bed. The Kelleshite finds it when he wakes in the morning (with the biggest hangover he has ever had).

My dearest Flea,

Sheeba.

Sheeba answers the door in a light dress. The silky fabric brushes gently against her body, revealing a slim body accentuated by gentle curves that moves with a feminine grace that even Callistria herself would be jealous of. Cyrus is perhaps a bit disappointed to see the table set for dinner. His spirits lift a little, however, when he realizes she has made him a traditional Kelleshi feast. The food tastes as good, if not better, than it did back home. The catwoman is a truly accomplished cook. Cyrus cannot help but eat delicious morsel that is placed before him. He feels he may burst, and is grateful when Sheeba finally takes away his plate and returns to her seat empty handed.

"Now that the food is gone," says Sheeba, her tail swishing casually from side to side as she leans forwards in her seat and slides her tongue slowly over her fangs, "It's time for desserrrt..."

And we'll leave it at that, I think!

Unbeknownst to Cyrus, Sheeba slips a note in his tunic. He'll see it as it falls out the next time he disrobes to bathe (or whenever he decides to just get naked).

The waitress looks more concerned than amused as she too watches the companions with interest. There are now enough shots of Essence of Razmir on the table to keep even Amaranti satisfied for a good while.

Another round of flaming beverages appears on the table, but Sheeba is nowhere to be seen. A furtive scan around the taproom reveals the sly catwoman slinking away back towards the bar. Keen observers may note a patch of burnt fur on her lower back that wasn't there before... well, before the shipment of Essence of Razmir arrived.

Sheeba returns Cyrus' wink as she returns with a fresh round of six flaming Essence of Rezmir shots.

Once the tray is on the table, she places a hand on Cyrus' chest, parting his shirt to do so. She rubs it gently for a moment. A claw pops out to prick him ever so slightly, drawing a small bead of blood. Without a word, she smiles slyly and slides away into the crowd.

Fort saves are now DC 13 for those who have had 1 shot, 14 for those who have had 2.

Sheeba picks up the gold coin, deliberately brushing up against Finarin as she does so, "Why thank you, Lorrrd Moonstep. Therrre arrre so many ways I can take carrre of someone as rrrefined as yourrrself," she purrs. The sultry catwoman stands, her tail casually stroking Finarin's arm as she addresses the others, "Well done, boys. Rrround two?"

The wiley Sheeba, alas, misses nothing. She leans in close, but from behind. Unlike Sirena, she lets her warm breath, deep voice and Cyrus' imagination do the flirting for her.

"Why yes, we do have cll... 'claws'," she purrs in an almost impossibly deep voice, "But it's not likely a little man like you would be able to find one... even if I everrr let you trrry."

Sheeba brings around a tray of little one ounce glasses filled with Essence of Razmir. She turns her nose up at the overpowering aroma of what you hope is alcohol.

To the surprise of everyone here, Sheeba chants some words of magic and the glasses burst into flame, "Drrrink up boys, but be quick - otherrrwise all the fun will be gone, and it will just searrr yourrr lips." None of the assembled companions are quite sure why Sheeba resumes her alluring purring now that Sirena out of earshot. Perhaps it is coincidence.

Make me a DC 12 fortitude save if you drink, please.

"Hello, big man," says Sheeba to Amaranti, "Tall dark and... so well muscled. You won't back down from an Essence of Razmir will you? Is that Ibid I hear tapping underneath the table? I'll make that four."

Sheeba turns slowly, glaring at Sirena as she does so, and then pushes past the human waitress. Sirena jumps forwards a little in shock shortly afterwards. The assembled are sure they caught a glimpse of Sheeba whipping her workmate in the rear.

Sheeba growls at Sirena, "Find your own table, Sirena, or I'll carve the directions to one on your back," she says in a low, even voice. The catwoman pops a claw from the end of her index finger as if to say "think I wont? try me".

Sheeba smiles at the assembled trio, "Sheeba's special Chelish red for Lord Moonstep," she purrs, with none of the condescension present when others refer to Finarin as "Lord", "And may I interest you boys in some Essence of Razmir from the Isle of Terror? We're practically giving it away for 3 silver a shot. I don't know, it kills one halfling and all of a sudden no-one wants it anymore..."

"... and waterrr forrr you," she finishes firmly. Lort nods in agreement.

Sheeba graces the table with a warm, sly smile.

"It is good to see that you have all made up. Now, instead of the Firrre Mead, may I interrrest you instead in some Ulfen gulping whisky? It arrrrived this morrrning." All can clearly see the crestfallen look on on the half-orc's face, even as Sheeba's sharp teeth shine through an ever-widening smile as she adds, "It's Lorrrt's favorrrite."

Sheeba helps Cyrus to his feet and dusts herself off.

"My apologies," she says to the pathfinders (and everyone in earshot), "I knew that Lorrrt had been in an agrrressive mood lately, and should have cut him off soonerrr. Even so..." she hurriedly scribbles a note, the notepad and quill appearing from nowhere.

For the curious pathfinders, the note reads:

Lort,

Sheeba.

Sheeba pulls a wand out from... well, in tight leathers like that... apparently nowhere. She furrows her brow, as though trying to remeber the lines from a play and then...

Use Magic Device, DC 20 (wand): 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (4) + 12 = 16

... the wand fizzes slightly.

"Currrses. Worrrry not, my little flea, next time it will worrrk."

A gasp escapes Sheeba's lips as she witnesses the sheer brutality with which Lort attacks Cyrus. Soundlessly, seeing the half-orc is dazed and unable to attack, she leaps over the bar and quickly pulls the acrobatic Keleshite out of harm's way.

Cradling Cyrus's head in her lap, Sheeba softly sings a Qadiran nursery rhyme. Fortunately for Sheeba's mystique, the only person within earshot is thoroughly unconscious: catfolk, as with cats, are not known for their beautiful singing voices.

"You'rrre assuming you would have the wits to know you werrre being chased... Cyrrrus," says the mellifluous voice of Sheeba, close enough to actually vibrate the hairs in Cyrus's ear when she rolls her Rs.

Just then, the door to the tavern is flung open and a hush falls over the once boisterous crowd.

"Keleshite, eh?" Sheeba raises an eyebrow at Cyrus's comment, "I knew I smelled something spicy about you... and thank you forrr being prrreparrred to defend my honorrr." Sheeba favors Cyrus with a genuine smile.

She listens to Gunari with good grace. She does, however, ignore the priest's last question when Finarin arrives and says his greetings.

"Lorrrd Moonstep, welcome," she purrs as she half-bows, half-curtsies. The pathfinders are still unsure as to whether she is being genuinely deferent or mocking the elf. "So that will be thrrree Keleshi firrre meads, and one Chelish Rrred," she pauses before adding in a low voice, "With the special musk."

Sheeba returns almost immediately with the drinks, all of which taste wonderful - except perhaps the red (Finarin's palate is a strange one). The nimble waitress manages to wave her tail alluringly under both Finarin and Cyrus's noses before melting into the crowd, allowing the pathfinders a chance to catch up alone.

"Welcome Amarrranti," says Sheeba, appearing stealthily from the crowd, "Let me know if you tirrre of this one's warrrm beerrr," she favors Gunari with a slow wink, "We've just rrreceived a shipment frrrom Qadirrra of some fine Keleshi firrre mead."

Once she's taken Amaranti's order, she turns to the table as a whole, "My apologies forrr the earrrlierrr scene. I know Lorrrt will forrrgive me. Dave, on the otherrr hand, may need my prrrotection when the half-orrrc soberrrs up." With that, Sheeba wanders off towards the bar, the graceful and slightly seductive sway returning to her hips as she does so.

Man, autocorrect hates Sheeba!

A low purr from behind Gunari brings the warpriest back to some level of sobriety as he realizes who was in earshot.

"You'rrre only hearrrtbroken because I wouldn't let Cayden prrrovide the drrrinks back at the Dance Hall of Korrrtos. Orrr was it because Lorrrd Punjeerrr kicked you out beforrre ourrr dance?" Sheeba smiles, and puts down some more empty tankards before turning her attention to Cyrus.

"Yourrr drrrinks, Cyrrrus," she leans very close to the rogue, so that only he can hear, "Unforrrtunately forrr you, my hearrring is excellent. To answerrr yourrr question, we honeymoon wherrre therrre arrre no fleas. Learrrn to hold yourrr tongue, or I may put yourrr acrrrobatic talents to the test."

... and I just dare you to try to find a more appropriate avatar than this.