What was that??

Originally Posted by Rumrunner View Post
PS couldn't you just bring the laptop to bed?
LOL ... almost made me blow coke out of my nose (that's the coca-cola kind of coke, the one with the registered name and everything)

Oh, didn't realise, but I passed my 5000th post on MW the other day (now at 5100+) ... so go me

Of course, the content and importance of those 5000 posts could be in question

5k is a good mark. I guess you're not such a noobie any more.

Noober. Then noobwright, noobenstein, and (finally) noobimatus.

Oh, as I'm not in enough games to keep me busy, I've just joined a game on here (they are after a couple more players ... hint, hint -- 4e level 1 starting in the Nentir Vale), and was quite happy with my character's introduction (the DM has laid out the town with two starting points, the player then do their own introduction to the game, so for your amusement / bemusement, I've included it below, oh, and this is the game: Fallcrest

Ohh, the first sentence is a follow up to another character, one of the players is playing a 12 year old girl ... I've never been a fan of "child" players ... but, ho hum, hence the lead in to the first paragraph ...

Double Ohh, also, the other "starting place" in the game was a halfling run tavern ... all noise and music and "cheers" every two minutes ...

I think that's all you should need to know

Doh ... also the barbarian is another player, from a not very well liked tribe nearby (not sure of his whole history as it has only been hinted at), but he used the old, "WHISKEY" play and is at the bar, though he has noticed a table of "bullies" at one table whispering and pointing his way ....

Hmmph, the heathens allow children in a tavern. Well, it has to be better then that loud place you tried earlier, the sight of you certainly put a dent in their celebrations, the woman thinks to herself with a smile, her slightly enlarged canines, biting lightly on her top lip. She skips lightly over a puddle, and dodges between others, lifting her elegant black dress to keep it from trailing in the mud, revealing laced heeled boots beneath.

Noticing those on the porch, some with long pipes, others playing at tiles, the sound of them slapping on the table combined with curses and laughs as money changes hands, you were always lucky with those, but those playing will most likely not allow you at their table, she thinks as she pulls her wide brimmed black hat lower to help hide her face, you should have bought a veil, but then people would enquire why you were in mourning and try and by you drinks. Until they saw who and what you are, Priestess of the Raven Queen

She takes a deep breath as she approaches the tavern, entering a new town at night can be tricky for her type ... and fun at times she thinks smiling once again. She lets out her breath and pulls her teeth back behind her lips, tricky enough without those showing, maybe those on the porch won't recognise you if you're quick, yes, that's not going to happen is it? and she takes the three steps up to the porch slowly, her heels click on each step, men cannot resist that sound, they have to look, why don't you were slippers? Because they are not becoming of one such as yourself ...

The men playing at tiles or drinking look around, as do the woman to check out possible competition for their man, or man-of-the-moment, this part can be delicious ... yes, delicious and dangerous ... she thinks, not looking to the left or right, but hearing the laughing and tile slapping stop, muttered words said silently to those beside them, words which they think are said privately, but are far too clear to the elegantly dressed woman in black, she stops just short of the door and straightens her trevail, lifting her dress ever so slightly before dropping the waited hem so it will sit just so, she cannot see, but senses holy symbols being reached for, or quiet prayers uttered by those on the porch, but not one of them will say anything they think she can hear, they will wait for her to go inside before running off to gossip or notify the authorities of her prescence, they will not act while she stands only feet from them ... sheep, NO ... cattle, that's what they are. You must not think like that of them child, they are life ... yes, life to feed my mistress, life to feed ... NO, you must not think that either!!!!

She steps through the doorway and looks for an empty table, there is one in the middle of the room, great, why do the corner tables always fill first? Because that is where those who have something to hide sit ... Hahaha, none have more to hide then you little sister and she suppresses a smile as the clientele start to notice her and stare, or nudge their companions in the ribs, or reach for that which gives them comfort, a drink, a religious symbol, the handle of a blade or axe ...

She waits until the place has gone silent, and senses those on the porch moving, either away or to watch through one of the grimy windows to see what will happen, the only noise the click-click-click of her shoes, the scrape of the chair closest to the door being pulled back by this woman ... she puts a small satchel on the floor, takes her hand crossbow from her hip and rests it against the satchell, the bow down and the trigger just beneath the reach of her fingers, though the quiver of bolts remains on her belt. There is a dull thump as the light mace hanging from her black belt, elegantly worked with a large black raven buckle which sits between her hip bone and middle, a large raven symbol hangs from a blackend chain around her neck, her fine lace gown completely out of place in an establishment such as this as is she.

The woman looks around, finding her target, a young girl with a tray and she beckons to her, her fingers opening and closing but the girl is hesitant, and a man behind her takes her wrist, as comfort? or protection? you knew she would not come to you, not yet ... hmmmph She looks around to the innkeep, a large barbarian standing at the bar, finishing another drink, not paying her any attention, at least there is another who does not belong here she thinks, holding back her smile, and beckons the innkeeper over, a smile touching her cheeks as the outer edges of her mouth lift but not the middle, don't show ... I KNOW!!! and she encourages him with her eyes as he moves from the sanctity of the bar, his serving tray a shield across his round tummy, "What can I get you," he whispers, a customer is a customer after all.

The woman releases a couple of hairpins from her hat and shakes her long hair loose, her dark face making it appear almost white, she looks up at the innkeeper and says softly, "An apple juice and a room please. Oh, and a steak, large ... and bloody," openly smiling for the first time ...

If only I had time... I have a concept I'd love to try for an old man with ocd and perhaps mildly mad besides... trouble with internal monologue and so forth. Senile old man wizard for classic goodness. Basically's I'd have his home burn down in some sort of accident, forgot he left the fire burning beneath his alembic and go alchemy instead of rituals. Loss of power (level 1) due to reclusive alchemical abuse.

I'm only involved in 8?? games at the moment + DM'ing this, so I have tons of time

OK, 10 and this one ... LOL

how many people are in this game? now that its in my head, getting it out will be a bitch... nm, don't answer that. I'm going to assume its full, because I really don't have time, Great Intro though!


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