Teagan Payne's page

I'm still here! I had a really rough couple of days this past week. It's the week before finals. I'll get a post together tomorrow. :)

Not intentionally, of course.

"That explains where the blood came from. How long have they been dead?" Teagan moves closer to inspect the bodies, looking for anything that might identify them as the rain drops landed on his goggles.

Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (6) + 9 = 15

Teagan's beady eyes look over the scene behind his oversized goggles. He pulls up the straps on his eyepieces, and stares intently at the liquid on Garenth's hands. "Looks like some sort of blood, but are we sure what kind it is?"

Looking at the drainage, he sees the thick sanguine liquid. Connecting the blood to the drain, Teagan snoops along the snaking path of the pipes.

Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 29

Sorry for the lack of posting lately, this past week's been crazy. Final projects are due this and next week for two of my classes.

"Let's go! The faster we figure this out, the quicker I can blow things up!" The twitchy gnome, visibly impatient, made his way out of the room, searching for the empty flask he keeps in his haversack. "The first thing we should do is get a sample of that slime. It should tell us what we're up against."

The gnome approaches the bag with polite hesitation. He picks up the bag, weighing it in his hands before opening it. He looks inside. That's a lot of gold. But is it how much he says it is?

Thinking it would be rude to count the gold in front of the man who was gracious enough to pay them up front, he picks up the bag, and puts it into one of the pockets of his Haversack. "Although destruction's my specialty, I'm sure that we can do some sleuthing, and figure out what has occurred here. What information would you like us to come back with?"

I just don't want to be posting too often and add nothing to the discussion. Generally if I don't post for a while, I'm waiting for something significant to occur, rather than tooting my own horn with a flavor post.

Teagan, not as familiar dealing with nobility or royalty as his cohorts, forgoes the formalities traditionally associated. "M'lord, I am Teagan Payne, Exterminator Extraordinaire. You've got a threat. And I happen to be a fixer of threats. I also enjoy doing it, but not always for free."

The gnome picks his teeth. "I'd like to be there to solve your problem, but I'd need to know more about what we're up against, and how much ordnance I'd need to deal with the problem. Tell us a little of your problem, and I'll name my price."

Diplomacy to convince the noble to divulge more information about the threat1d20 + 1 ⇒ (18) + 1 = 19

Teagan looks to Garenth, seeing his traveling companions apprehensive faces. He might be suspicious of these strangers, but at least there's warmth here and shelter from the rain. He looks around the interior of the estate, looking around as he was led in to the estate by this strange man.

Perception on the interior of Crown Manor: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (18) + 9 = 27

S'alright. No problem. I'll be posting later tonight, after 10:00 EST.

Perception to see if he's an illusion or not 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (1) + 9 = 10
Knowledge (arcana) to see if I've seen any illusions like this before 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (6) + 10 = 16

Teagan sniffs the air. After two hours of walking in the rain, Teagan's body quivers with the chill of the rain, and his teeth chatter, trying to keep any inkling of warmth in his body. "This even smells eerie. I can't be the only one unsettled by this," Teagan says, between chattering teeth.

Yup, ready to leave when you guys are.

"The bigger they are, the bigger the boom!" Teagan jumps up and down in his stool. He nearly falls off, collecting himself. "Do we know what might have caused this to attack Carrion Hill? Some sort of mining operation gone awry?"

Knowledge (arcana) to see if I've ever heard of a creature like this. 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (3) + 10 = 13

Teagan grumbled They talk too much, he thought to himself. "So is it settled? We're going to see what's been disturbing Carrion Hill?" He tapped his foot impatiently. Teagan turned to the bartender, washing glasses. "Keeps! What can you tell us about Carrion Hill? Is there anything that might want to tear us apart limb-from-limb, waiting in the shadows, or anything that might want us dead for some reason or another?"

Teagan sneers at the bartender No food? That means trail rations. Again. His sneer turned downwards at the thought of nuts and berries. Again. Taking this job might get him a better meal, he thought. Maybe I can make things go boom... His grimace turned upward quickly, bursting into manic laughter. "If I come, please let me make the booms!" He jumped up and down on his barstool eagerly.

Realizing he's making a scene, he calms down. He runs his hands through his messy hair in an attempt to straighten it. Comparatively calmly, he says "Teagan Payne, Exterminator Extraordinaire! Good to meet you, Sir Thorpe."

Teagan looks back at the man with the crossbow. His silence is stiffening. Teagan, a little insulted, turns to the stout man in armor. He sits next to him, leaning into his line of sight. "This man is looking for a map of Ustalav. Do you happen to have something to show him?"

Despite the mediocre flavor and the weak alcohol content, Teagan--against his better judgement--hails down the bartender, waving his arms around. "Another ale over here! Got anything to eat? His belly grumbled at the thought of a warm, tender, bloody steak, covered in onions, mushrooms, and sauces. I haven't eaten that well since I left Caliphas. He thought. He doubted this ruddy establishment would have such rustic, homey cuisine, considering the walls barely kept the cold out. Still, the thought entertained him.

"...A cleric was with one of 'em... Lad mentioned something about the "Dark Tapestry," but the room seemed to chill when he said it. I don't know what it means though." Teagan caught the tail end of what the bartender was saying, having been distracted by the thought of tender meat from home. "What kind of cleric? The kind you wouldn't want to meet in a back alley?"

Surprised that the monk gave him a straight answer after all of his odd answers, he drinks the rest of his ale, swiping the foam with the sleeve of his coat. A loud belch and a sigh later, he responds to the strange man. "No need to whisper! Let me see if I've got a map for you."

Teagan digs through his satchel. "Mess kit? No. Trail rations? No. Gunpowder? Very no. It seems that he was missing his map. "Wouldn't you know, can't find it today." He looks around the ruddy, sodden tavern. "No map on the walls." Looking around, the twitchy gnome turned to the man with the crossbow.

"You there, at the table. D'you have a map of Ustalav? This man's looking for Carrion Hill."

The gnome takes a swig of his brew. "Not the most vile thing I've ever drank." "Not bad," says the gnome, acknowledging the bartender. With a twinge of sympathy for the run-down establishment and its proprietor, he gives the barkeeper an extra gold piece. "Maybe this'll help fix your roof," the gnome says with mild condescension.

"You asked where I'm from? I'm from wherever you need me to be." He laughs, not sure if he amused this tall man. "But if you're asking where I was born? That would be Calpihas. Not many gnomes there, but we made do. Worked in Hyannis for a long time." He takes another swig of his ale. "How I ended up here? I barely remember! What about you? How'd you end up here?"

"Get me some of that ale." He says, as if screeching at the bartender. "And this time, serve it in something that doesn't smell like wet dog."

The twitchy gnome turns to the tall man at the bar."Hey, buddy." He barked at him. "You don't look like you're from around here." Teagan lifts his goggles to inspect the monk further.

Is there a minimum text limit that we need to for posts? I tend to post often, in smaller spurts. Still, I'd like to hear what you think.

The door slowly creaks open as a short figure walks through the door. What appears to be a gnome pops its head in the door, nervously peeking around for anything that might attack. Slowly, the silhouette of the gnomish silhouette comes into view.

He dons a pair of goggles, and a bandolier, filled with liquids--possibly volatile. The short man goes from a slow creep to a stumble. He comes in close contact with the floor, nearly breaking one of the flasks on his chest. He picks himself up, and makes his way over to a barstool. Not stopping to take in the atmosphere, he throws his backpack on the ground, lying next to the stool.

"Hey keeps!" He yells in a scratchy, nervous voice. "This gnome's a thirsty fellow. What ales ya got?"

Yes? Yes? What needs exploding?

Teagan Payne here! Anybody got a match? >:)

Here's the numbers, working on the backstory.