ArcaneDesperado October 29, 2023 Doallyn McClare Character Sheet Male - Neutral Good - Human Wizard (High Conjurer) / Duskblade Initiative: +1 Hit Points: 13/13 Speed: 30 Armour Class: 14 Touch: 11 / Flat-footed: 13, Fort +3 / Ref +1 / Will +5 Base Attack Bonus: +1 Abilities: Str 10, Dex 12, Con 12, Int 17, Wis 12, Cha 14 Doallyn being the ever planning tactician left with a week of time on his hand could be a dangerous thing. If he had more gold on hand, he would probably have about twenty irons in the fire for various investments. If left with a few months to get a full understanding of the city’s inner workings and people he’d be working on owning half the city. He had other things to focus on however. The first order of business was finding some added muscle. Not for fighting but for playing the part of pack-mule in a manner of speaking. A bag of holding or haversack would have been more practical, but wasnt affordable at this stage of things with his coin. Even if he could twist the whole group's collective arms, it wasnt possible with their combined resources. A few candidates had come about through his inquiries. Narrowing it down to one, he had had the meeting at the tavern. Finalizing a payment plan and a handshake everything seemed to be moving in a positive direction. As Dabliss left the tavern and the door shut there was a few moments of silence. Then the door to the tavern flung open. The black clad woman stood in the doorway. The anger pulsing from her would have likely have been enough to cause any empath in the room to scream in agony. Her voice roared with a thick accent, like a raging thunderstorm from the highlands. The shadows almost seemed to swirl around her in a fury, and her violet hued eyes seemed to flash for a moment amid the darkness. DOALLYN MCCLARE! Doallyn, one normally poised and collected, froze like an ice elemental had just crawled down his spine. He recognized the voice before he’d turned. He had feared this day. All the undead in the dungeons below could have starred him down and he would have probably fared better. His neck twisted a bit before the rest of his body followed suit. Turning to gaze towards the doorway. His voice came out, though it was like a temple mouse that just found itself corned by an alleycat. Racanna, darling….. Don’t…cha…dare… DARLING me. Ya bloody dolton dangleberry of schite. Doallyn started to try and speak. Haud yer wheesht! She moved towards him in a flash and the dagger was by his neck. His eyes shifted to the dagger and he promptly kept his mouth shut. Ye leave and only a feckin’ letter to tell meh you have this daft notion to run here? On ye own? I… No… No… I’m not done. Shhh…. …. Doallyn McClare… You are a heid - the baw. A damn eejit. And I swear I should beat you to a bloody pulp and drag your arse back to ye father and let him deal with you. Better yet, I let my father deal with ye. And then whatever mangled remains are left, I pack 'em in a bag and then drop that off fur ye father to deal with. Doallyn shifted uncomfortably as Racanna glared him down, the blade pressed against his neck. The metal being extremely uncomfortable, not just because of the concept that a flick of her wrist could end him, but the metal itself being almost allergic reaction to his fey heritage. His eyes shifted a bit around the room hoping to find someone else to even provide him with a moment of reprieve.
ArcaneDesperado October 29, 2023 Doallyn McClare Character Sheet Male - Neutral Good - Human Wizard (High Conjurer) / Duskblade Initiative: +1 Hit Points: 13/13 Speed: 30 Armour Class: 14 Touch: 11 / Flat-footed: 13, Fort +3 / Ref +1 / Will +5 Base Attack Bonus: +1 Abilities: Str 10, Dex 12, Con 12, Int 17, Wis 12, Cha 14 Doallyn being the ever planning tactician left with a week of time on his hand could be a dangerous thing. If he had more gold on hand, he would probably have about twenty irons in the fire for various investments. If left with a few months to get a full understanding of the city’s inner workings and people he’d be working on owning half the city. He had other things to focus on however. The first order of business was finding some added muscle. Not for fighting but for playing the part of pack-mule in a manner of speaking. A bag of holding or haversack would have been more practical, but wasnt affordable at this stage of things with his coin. Even if he could twist the whole group's collective arms, it wasnt possible with their combined resources. A few candidates had come about through his inquiries. Narrowing it down to one, he had had the meeting at the tavern. Finalizing a payment plan and a handshake everything seemed to be moving in a positive direction. Has Dabliss left the tavern and the door shut there was a few moments of silence. Then the door to the tavern flung open. The black clad woman stood in the doorway. The anger pulsing from her would have likely have been enough to cause any empath in the room to scream in agony. Her voice roared with a thick accent, like a raging thunderstorm from the highlands. The shadows almost seemed to swirl around her in a fury, and her violet hued eyes seemed to flash for a moment amid the darkness. DOALLYN MCCLARE! Doallyn, one normally poised and collected, froze like an ice elemental had just crawled down his spine. He recognized the voice before he’d turned. He had feared this day. All the undead in the dungeons below could have starred him down and he would have probably fared better. His neck twisted a bit before the rest of his body followed suit. Turning to gaze towards the doorway. His voice came out, though it was like a temple mouse that just found itself corned by an alleycat. Racanna, darling….. Don’t…cha…dare… DARLING me. Ya bloody dolton dangleberry of schite. Doallyn started to try and speak. Haud yer wheesht! She moved towards him in a flash and the dagger was by his neck. His eyes shifted to the dagger and he promptly kept his mouth shut. Ye leave and only a feckin’ letter to tell meh you have this daft notion to run here? On ye own? I… No… No… I’m not done. Shhh…. …. Doallyn McClare… You are a heid - the baw. A damn eejit. And I swear I should beat you to a bloody pulp and drag your arse back to ye father and let him deal with you. Better yet, I let my father deal with ye. And then whatever mangled remains are left, I pack 'em in a bag and then drop that off fur ye father to deal with. Doallyn shifted uncomfortably as Racanna glared him down, the blade pressed against his neck. The metal being extremely uncomfortable, not just because of the concept that a flick of her wrist could end him, but the metal itself being almost allergic reaction to his fey heritage. His eyes shifted a bit around the room hoping to find someone else to even provide him with a moment of reprieve.
ArcaneDesperado October 29, 2023 Doallyn McClare Character Sheet Male - Neutral Good - Human Wizard (High Conjurer) / Duskblade Initiative: +1 Hit Points: 13/13 Speed: 30 Armour Class: 14 Touch: 11 / Flat-footed: 13, Fort +3 / Ref +1 / Will +5 Base Attack Bonus: +1 Abilities: Str 10, Dex 12, Con 12, Int 17, Wis 12, Cha 14 Doallyn being the ever planning tactician left with a week of time on his hand could be a dangerous thing. If he had more gold on hand, he would probably have about twenty irons in the fire for various investments. If left with a few months to get a full understanding of the city’s inner workings and people he’d be working on owning half the city. He had other things to focus on however. The first order of business was finding some added muscle. Not for fighting but for playing the part of pack-mule in a manner of speaking. A bag of holding or haversack would have been more practical, but wasnt affordable at this stage of things with his coin. Even if he could twist the whole group's collective arms, it wasnt possible with their combined resources. A few candidates had come about through his inquiries. Narrowing it down to one, he had had the meeting at the tavern. Finalizing a payment plan and a handshake everything seemed to be moving in a positive direction. Has Dabliss left the tavern and the door shut there was a few moments of silence. Then the door to the tavern flung open. The black clad woman stood in the doorway. The anger pulsing from her would have likely have been enough to cause any empath in the room to scream in agony. Her voice roared with a thick accent, like a raging thunderstorm from the highlands. The shadows almost seemed to swirl around her in a fury, and her violet hued eyes seemed to flash for a moment amid the darkness. DOALLYN MCCLARE! Doallyn, one normally poised and collected, froze like an ice elemental had just crawled down his spine. He recognized the voice before he’d turned. He had feared this day. All the undead in the dungeons below could have starred him down and he would have probably fared better. His neck twisted a bit before the rest of his body followed suit. Turning to gaze towards the doorway. His voice came out, though it was like a temple mouse that just found itself corned by an alleycat. Racanna, darling….. Don’t…cha…dare… DARLING me. Ya bloody dolton dangleberry of schite. Doallyn started to try and speak. Haud yer wheesht! She moved towards him in a flash and the dagger was by his neck. His eyes shifted to the dagger and he promptly kept his mouth shut. Ye leave and only a feckin’ letter to tell meh you have this daft notion to run here? On ye own? I… No… No… I’m not done. Shhh…. …. Doallyn McClair… You are a heid - the baw. A damn eejit. And I swear I should beat you to a bloody pulp and drag your arse back to ye father and let him deal with you. Better yet, I let my father deal with ye. And then whatever mangled remains are left, I pack 'em in a bag and then drop that off fur ye father to deal with. Doallyn shifted uncomfortably as Racanna glared him down, the blade pressed against his neck. The metal being extremely uncomfortable, not just because of the concept that a flick of her wrist could end him, but the metal itself being almost allergic reaction to his fey heritage. His eyes shifted a bit around the room hoping to find someone else to even provide him with a moment of reprieve.
ArcaneDesperado October 29, 2023 Doallyn McClare Character Sheet Male - Neutral Good - Human Wizard (High Conjurer) / Duskblade Initiative: +1 Hit Points: 13/13 Speed: 30 Armour Class: 14 Touch: 11 / Flat-footed: 13, Fort +3 / Ref +1 / Will +5 Base Attack Bonus: +1 Abilities: Str 10, Dex 12, Con 12, Int 17, Wis 12, Cha 14 Doallyn being the ever planning tactician left with a week of time on his hand could be a dangerous thing. If he had more gold on hand, he would probably have about twenty irons in the fire for various investments. If left with a few months to get a full understanding of the city’s inner workings and people he’d be working on owning half the city. He had other things to focus on however. The first order of business was finding some added muscle. Not for fighting but for playing the part of pack-mule in a manner of speaking. A bag of holding or haversack would have been more practical, but wasnt affordable at this stage of things with his coin. Even if he could twist the whole group's collective arms, it wasnt possible with their combined resources. A few candidates had come about through his inquiries. Narrowing it down to one, he had had the meeting at the tavern. Finalizing a payment plan and a handshake everything seemed to be moving in a positive direction. Has Dabliss left the tavern and the door shut there was a few moments of silence. Then the door to the tavern flung open. The black clad woman stood in the doorway. The anger pulsing from her would have likely have been enough to cause any empath in the room to scream in agony. Her voice roared with a thick accent, like a raging thunderstorm from the highlands. The shadows almost seemed to swirl around her in a fury, and her violet hued eyes seemed to flash for a moment amid the darkness. DOALLYN MCCLAIR! Doallyn, one normally poised and collected, froze like an ice elemental had just crawled down his spine. He recognized the voice before he’d turned. He had feared this day. All the undead in the dungeons below could have starred him down and he would have probably fared better. His neck twisted a bit before the rest of his body followed suit. Turning to gaze towards the doorway. His voice came out, though it was like a temple mouse that just found itself corned by an alleycat. Racanna, darling….. Don’t…cha…dare… DARLING me. Ya bloody dolton dangleberry of schite. Doallyn started to try and speak. Haud yer wheesht! She moved towards him in a flash and the dagger was by his neck. His eyes shifted to the dagger and he promptly kept his mouth shut. Ye leave and only a feckin’ letter to tell meh you have this daft notion to run here? On ye own? I… No… No… I’m not done. Shhh…. …. Doallyn McClair… You are a heid - the baw. A damn eejit. And I swear I should beat you to a bloody pulp and drag your arse back to ye father and let him deal with you. Better yet, I let my father deal with ye. And then whatever mangled remains are left, I pack 'em in a bag and then drop that off fur ye father to deal with. Doallyn shifted uncomfortably as Racanna glared him down, the blade pressed against his neck. The metal being extremely uncomfortable, not just because of the concept that a flick of her wrist could end him, but the metal itself being almost allergic reaction to his fey heritage. His eyes shifted a bit around the room hoping to find someone else to even provide him with a moment of reprieve.
