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"That's pretty weird..." Syd mutters.
"Aye."
Syd's expertise on board a ship's rigging may just save his thick hide...
"Yep."
Syd is from a city, and is thus familiar with the life and bustle of a metropolis but the 'foreign-ness' of it all is what makes him gawp and look around everywhere.
Syd says quietly, "Vass. Leave 'er. 'av me instead."
Syd's eyes narrow at the familiar speech pattern and obscenities, "Dint no-one tell yer it's the 'ite o' bad manners to swear," he says with a calm he does not truly feel.
"Zuh-huh-wuh? Wos goin' on?"
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Syd looks down at the halfling and just says quietly, "You don't geddid, do yer? Guys like you never do." He turns to Domo and extends a meaty hand to shake, "Fanks fer yer 'elp. Sorry yer 'ad to get that Vass fella on yer. But, safety in numbers, eh?"
Syd catches the halfling by the arm, "'Ere, watch yer mawf and show some respect. I just watched me mate killed like a codfish, and the bastards joked abaht it. If tha's too proud for yer, then stuff it."
Syd looks at Domo with sad eyes, "Int yer fault, mate. Just seems we's got ourselves on the guttin' deck, and 's a toss-up wevver we're the gutters or the fish." He sighs, "Sorry, bruvver. Syd's the name."
"Enuff. I've 'ad enuff." Syd says with great weariness.
Syd raises his sword to strike, and then drops it without striking. "Bastard." is all he mutters.
"Baldy! Ryor! You bastard! I'll kill ya!" cries Syd as he looks in horror at the corpse of his friend. Tears in his eyes, and curses in his throat he slashes wildly at the priest.
"Filthy butcher's work this..." Syd grunts unhappily.
"Bloody 'ell! There's wolves everywhere! They on our side?" Syd cries. In all the chaos he concentrates on his opponent.
1d20+7=27, 2d6+7=14Threat roll - huh, typical... 1d20+7=9, 2d6+7=11 "Alright, matey, le's be 'avin' yer!" cries Syd as he make his way to tackle the savage half-elf. He swings mightily with his new claymore at his opposite number.
"Lovely grub! Nice birds, eh?"
"Cor, this is a bit of a swanky place, yer got!"
Another good guy - nice! :D
"Flippin' eck. Crowded innit?" Syd continues to look around, interested in the buildings, the people, the smells, the whole gamut.
Syd breathes in a lungful of city air. "Ahhhhh! Nuffing like it!"
"Now, that we can agree on, Smiler."
"Sounds like a plan t' me, beardy." Syd says cheerfully.
"Le's try an' keep a low profile, yeah? Incognito like, an' mufti."
"Good to 'ave yer back, baldy." Syd grins.
"Le's geddem!"
"Poor bastard," Syd mutters, "Fink we be'er 'ave a word wiv 'is 'employers'..."
Syd snarls, "Geddoudofit!" as he swings his new claymore in a mighty arc.
Syd keeps on running, huffing and puffing, dropping the crossbow as he does so.
The half-orc sees his new friends in potential danger and bellows, "Oi! Ya big red blob, over 'ere!" as he heads towards the genie. He fires his crossbow more for effect than anything else.
Syd readies his weapon and looks wary. His experience with the supernatural is limited but growing.
"Ere, 'e looks a bit of a tough nut."
"Yeah... sequela... well, I don't like none of them foreign drinks."
"You better not go queer there, Jon, me ol' son."
"Gerrof!" Syd says uncomfortably and gently shoves Jon off. "We're all aways from out beds, but there's no need for none of that!" He looks round at the group, "I int one fer dreams, but that fella Vass, 'e was... in me 'ed. Made me see fings that never 'appened, do fings I never did. Like a nightmare." He looks at Jon, "An' I wake up, and there's Jon 'ere lookin' like 'e's gonna gut me like a cod."
"Too right. Les get ourrofit."
"Nah we got yer. Ya ain't got a leg to stand on. Arf arf."
"Yer a piece of work, ain't yer?" Syd says quietly.
"Come on, you lot! Do as the man says!" Syd says cheerfully. He heads out, "Where to, Smiler?"
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