Teagan Muspelheim's page

Teagan remains quiet until the arrival at the mansion, his expression still solemn and to some degree even moody - though it is clear that he is showing restraint in respect of Kendra. As the liquor is offered, he asks for only a small glass. Periodically he sips, only a little, remarking every time how bitter it is.

When asked about his acquaintanceship, he narrows his eyebrows... and then sighs. "I'd rather not say more than this: we helped each other out in times of ill. I have nothing but respect for Petros."

He resumes to sip his miniature drink, clearly not entirely comfortable.

Teagan says nothing as the others praise the man who is no more. He stays quiet - and as invisible as he can - watching the coffin solemnly.

My apologies as well, having a rough time.

Teagan glances at the elf, and at the crowd of people. With a sigh, he brushes away some of the hair in front of his eyes. He looks at the man leading the mob and meets his eyes. "You should be ashamed of yourselves. We're giving a funeral to a man who wasn't good, oh no, Petros Lorrimor was a great man, far greater than any of you. He devoted his entire life to the fight against evil - evil you are lucky to never have laid you eyes upon. He was taken from this world far too soon, and your way of paying respects to this man is to interrupt his funeral?"

Teagan's voice has only a hint of anger, though his eyes are lit up...

Diplomacy check (separate): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (18) + 8 = 26

"Your father was a respectable man. My condolences." He bows only slightly, though the tone of his voice shows no disrespect. At the request of being pall-bearers, Teagan glances at the elf while the two dwarves and the half-orc all comply.

"I'll leave the honour to both of you. Being half your sizes - or less," he adds begrudgingly, "The last thing we need is a lop-sided, disrespectful disgrace of a ceremony."

He walks up to the front, and looks at the road to be traversed...

Did this die or something?

Teagan narrows his brows as three other strangers joins them by the table. As the old lady takes her leave, he sighs and slips the card into his sleeve - only to glare daggers at the elf and his big mouth. "I shan't keep you company. I will have to see you on the morrow."

Without any wait, he wanders over to the owner Sarianna, and inquires about the key for his room. Exchanging key for coin, he leaves the common room for a bit of sleep - and some good silence.

Teagan yawns as the elf and half-orc delve into their discussion. As he turns around in his seat to return his book to his backpack, the interruption of the strange older woman casts a frown upon his face. He looks suspiciously at the woman and the deck of cards for a moment, though shortly after, without hesitation, he pulls a card right after the elf does, though he does not lay it face up on the table...

1d54 ⇒ 37

Indeed! Oh, Cerebus syndrome, what have you done!?

I apologise for Teagan's personality being very... prickly and unfriendly. After all, he is an Ustalavian...

Teagan glares at the elf, a glare filled with chill contempt. He speaks not a word as he takes a final sip from the mug, as the warm meal is finally served. "Another honeyed mead, if you would," he waves his flagon in direction of the serving maid, before digging into the food.

At the half-orcs response and inquiry, he glances up. "Born and raised in this mess of a country."

"Simply cowardly, you mean," Teagan mutters as the lady Jominda storms away in a huff. He glances at the elf and half-orc with disinterest, taking a big swig of his mead. "You two new to Ustalav?"

When the lady steps forward to join the half-orc in celebrating Lorrimor, Teagan sighs and throws a glance at the closest table. He closes his book. "Respect where respect is due. To the professor."

He raises his mug only slightly before taking a sip. Coughing, he looks at Jominda. "Most Ustalavians tend to cower in fear at the sight of outsiders. How come you are so forthcoming?"

Teagan throws a glance at the elf, his fingers tugging at the pen as he continues writing. "We met. He taught me much I needed to know. We parted ways."

He returns to his book. The scritches of the pen are swift as he peers occasionally at the denizens of the inn.

Teagan is busily pulling out a rather large black book - large by the size of him, at least - from his backpack when he is addressed by the half-orc. He throws a glance over the man's tusks and the expression on his face. "Master? How... poignant."

Pondering quietly for a few moments, he gazes at the outstretched hand while closing his backpack. He pulls away a few strands of the midnight green hair dangling over his pointy eyebrows before he accepts the handshake - a swift, and emotionless ordeal. "You may call me Teagan."

He takes another sip of the mead as he begins to scribble, quietly noting that his question is thus far unanswered...

I have run CC once - only the first chapter, however, and we barely got past part two of chapter 1. I would be delighted if you did change some stuff from the AP (since I know a lot of what happens in Ravengro as per the book).

I would also prefer if secrecy happened through email, truth be told. I am not to be trusted with the "do not read spoilers" clause - it's a compulsion. I never act on the information in a spoiler, though I might steer towards it subconsciously. Minor things might not need to be spoilered, but the big secrets and plot twists should be conveyed through means that others cannot access.

My opinion, at least.

As the serving maid exclaims in shock, Teagan buries his face in the palm of his hand. He watches the other woman calm her down, and looks up at them both with no expression. He nods in confirmation, and turns to find a place to sit when the black-haired lady enters.

Teagan glances at the Chelaxian - or presumed Chelaxian - as she announces her purpose of being here. Sighing, he mumbles under his breath again, and throws another glance at the two dwarves, and the half-orc and elf by the lonesome table.

Adjusting his spectacles, he wanders over to the elf and half-orc. He pulls out his backpack from underneath his cloak and places it firmly behind him on the chair, and then climbs up to sit. "Surely you won't mind my company. If you do, pretend I'm not here," he says, pulling out an inkpen from one of his pouches. "Are you here for Lorrimor's... funeral as well?"

As the serving maid arrives with his meal and mead, he takes a sip right away - again, muttering under his breath. "That should take care of my throat..."

A possible interpretation of Teagan.

Except for the tragic demonic backstory. And the demon hand. And demon eye. And blatant evilness.

Looking for a picture of my character that would fit - that was a commission I got from a friend back in the day when I played WoW.

He hoped no-one would notice him when he opened the door.

The chill wind of the evening, no longer accompanied by the droll tune of heavy rain, presses him into the tepid room. Quietly adjusting his cloak, vest and scarf, he pulls out a pair of spectacles from nowhere, and nestles them firmly on the tip of his nose.

"You. Serving maid." He walks over to the lady who seems to be serving the patrons. "Do you have a room? A warm meal? Mead with honey?"

He throws a couple of glances around the room as she responds, spotting both a dwarf and a half-orc. His eyebrows narrow slightly, muttering under his breath.

I'm a little worried - it seems we do not have someone with Trapfinding. I wonder if magical traps are a big threat. . .

Thank you kindly for choosing me.

I am looking forward to the character interactions.

I might change my Sanctuary spell to either Obscuring Mist, Remove Fear, Remove Sickness, or Shield of Faith.

Thank you very kindly.