Edit History

The steady echo of boots upon the stone floor of the hall signaled the arrival of yet another guild member. Most of the less attentive folk paid it no mind while a small few with keener senses and memories suddenly grew ever so slightly apprehensive. It couldn't be him could it? He had been sent off on some insane quest to flush out a group of dire yeti cultist hell bent on reviving their ancient god from the Isle of the Forgotten. If the pace and weight behind the steps did not give it away then the occasional thumb of something large and thick against the stone floor most certainly did. Several patrons set down their drinks and eyed the entrance to the ale hall hoping against hope their day would not be spoiled by that man's arrival.

As if conjured forth from the fears of those who knew of him a man appeared in the open doorway to the bar; and yet, this was a something more than a man... this was someone greater! Basking in the subtle light of the ale hall stood a tall6'3" technically so shorter than some of our more beefier PCs. reptilian figure bearing an intricately pressed naval military uniform fitted for his unusual figure. Clawed hands, spines up his back, and two jutting horns protruding from his forehead marked him as far from ordinary. His gaze swept the hall seeming expecting all present to stand and applaud his proud appearance; but then again, many lesser men would be caught in utter awe at the sight of Bonaparte T. Rasque in the flesh! "Greetings fellow guild associates! No need to stand I can feel your admirations from here." A few of the newer guild mates gawked in awe at the apparent half dragon before their more experienced companions whispered something in their ears. "You can all rest easy for I have returned from my epic crusade against the vile Demonfrost Yeti clans of the north. Their frozen god shall not lay one finger upon our fine realm so long as I, Bonaparte T. Rasque have anything to say of it!"

As he spoke, Bonaparte gestured grandly with one hand while the other remained casually slipped into the seams between the buttons of his vest. "But there can be not but brief respite for one so great and I have been summoned once more by our most wise leader. No doubt a threat over whose victory my praises shall be sung for generations to come!" With his proclamation given, Bonaparte began to make his way to the bar. As he did, one younger lodge member whose left arm currently hung in a sling around his shoulder rose and did his best to hastily attempt an exit. His movement however was not unnoticed and before he could make it half way to the exit Bonaparte spared the man a knowing glance. "Ahhh Rodger! I see you are still recovering from our last venture into the nematode leech infested swamps to the far south east. Have you once again desired to share a place by my side in glorious battle?" The man seemed frozen in place as though he was afraid speaking would make things better or worse. "But why wouldn't you friend?! Hah, after I so effortlessly led us right to the heart of that bog hags lair and slew her in single combat this latest threat of beholders shall be child's play!" The apprehension in the man's eyes turned to indignation as he spat at the floor. "You pompous buffoon! You had us march half a day THROUGH the swamp instead of through safer paths around it. And the hag?! Half of us were cursed, bleeding, and covered in leeches while you stood back barking orders oh so casually. The hag was already on the floor dying when you SWOOPED in and killed her."

For his part, Bonaparte seemed not even phased by the man's accusations and began to retort before Rodger cut him off. "NO! NO! I don't want to hear another word or excuse from you about how it was all part of your master plan." Moving again, Rodger swiftly turned the corner to exit the ale hall as his good hand displayed a particularly rude gesture towards Bonaparte. "I'll take the damn leeches any day over HIM!" With those words still echoing with Rodger's departure, Bonaparte let out a hearty chuckle while tasking a seat at the bar near a beastial looking gnoll holding up a chalice fit for a king. "Poor Rodger, a man so humbled by my genius that he still refuses to let me heal his wounds. No doubt he wishes the scars to be a badge of pride from his time served under me. Ahhh Blackmoon my good barkeep, I'll have whatever this primitive looking gentleman beside me is partaking of." 

With a friendly nod and smile Bonaparte singled out the much larger gnollGarrak as the "primitive gentleman" before seemingly dismissing Blackmoon altogether as he found a new open mindedpoor soul to introduce himself to. "Greetings hunter! You have the honor of addressing Bonaparte T. Rasque, yes, the Commandant himself as I'm sure my legend has spread across the guild."

The steady echo of boots upon the stone floor of the hall signaled the arrival of yet another guild member. Most of the less attentive folk paid it no mind while a small few with keener senses and memories suddenly grew ever so slightly apprehensive. It couldn't be him could it? He had been sent off on some insane quest to flush out a group of dire yeti cultist hell bent on reviving their ancient god from the Isle of the Forgotten. If the pace and weight behind the steps did not give it away then the occasional thumb of something large and thick against the stone floor most certainly did. Several patrons set down their drinks and eyed the entrance to the ale hall hoping against hope their day would not be spoiled by that man's arrival.

As if conjured forth from the fears of those who knew of him a man appeared in the open doorway to the bar; and yet, this was a something more than a man... this was someone greater! Basking in the subtle light of the ale hall stood a tall6'3" technically so shorter than some of our more beefier PCs. reptilian figure bearing an intricately pressed naval military uniform fitted for his unusual figure. Clawed hands, spines up his back, and two jutting horns protruding from his forehead marked him as far from ordinary. His gaze swept the hall seeming expecting all present to stand and applaud his proud appearance; but then again, many lesser men would be caught in utter awe at the sight of Bonaparte T. Rasque in the flesh! "Greetings fellow guild associates! No need to stand I can feel your admirations from here." A few of the newer guild mates gawked in awe at the apparent half dragon before their more experienced companions whispered something in their ears. "You can all rest easy for I have returned from my epic crusade against the vile Demonfrost Yeti clans of the north. Their frozen god shall not lay one finger upon our fine realm so long as I, Bonaparte T. Rasque have anything to say of it!"

As he spoke, Bonaparte gestured grandly with one hand while the other remained casually slipped into the seams between the buttons of his vest. "But there can be not but brief respite for one so great and I have been summoned once more by our most wise leader. No doubt a threat over whose victory my praises shall be sung for generations to come!" With his proclamation given, Bonaparte began to make his way to the bar. As he did, one younger lodge member whose left arm currently hung in a sling around his shoulder rose and did his best to hastily attempt an exit. His movement however was not unnoticed and before he could make it half way to the exit Bonaparte spared the man a knowing glance. "Ahhh Rodger! I see you are still recovering from our last venture into the nematode leech infested swamps to the far south east. Have you once again desired to share a place by my side in glorious battle?" The man seemed frozen in place as though he was afraid speaking would make things better or worse. "But why wouldn't you friend?! Hah, after I so effortlessly led us right to the heart of that bog hags lair and slew her in single combat this latest threat of beholders shall be child's play!" The apprehension in the man's eyes turned to indignation as he spat at the floor. "You pompous buffoon! You had us march half a day THROUGH the swamp instead of through safer paths around it. And the hag?! Half of us were cursed, bleeding, and covered in leeches while you stood back barking orders oh so casually. The hag was already on the floor dying when you SWOOPED in and killed her."

For his part, Bonaparte seemed not even phased by the man's accusations and began to retort before Rodger cut him off. "NO! NO! I don't want to hear another word or excuse from you about how it was all part of your master plan." Moving again, Rodger swiftly turned the corner to exit the ale hall as his good hand displayed a particularly rude gesture towards Bonaparte. "I'll take the damn leeches any day over HIM!" With those words still echoing with Rodger's departure, Bonaparte let out a hearty chuckle while tasking a seat at the bar near a beastial looking gnoll holding up a chalice fit for a king. "Poor Rodger, a man so humbled by my genius that he still refuses to let me heal his wounds. No doubt he wishes the scars to be a badge of pride from his time served under me. Ahhh Blackmoon my good barkeep, I'll have whatever this primitive looking gentleman beside me is partaking of." 

With a friendly nod and smile Bonaparte singled out the much larger gnollGarrak as the "primitive gentleman" before seemingly dismissing Blackmoon altogether as he found a new open mindedpoor soul to introduce himself to. "Greetings hunter! You have the honor of addressing Bonaparte T. Rasque, yes, the Commandant himself as I'm sure my legend has spread across the guild."

The steady echo of boots upon the stone floor of the hall signaled the arrival of yet another guild member. Most of the less attentive folk paid it no mind while a small few with keener senses and memories suddenly grew ever so slightly apprehensive. It couldn't be him could it? He had been sent off on some insane quest to flush out a group of dire yeti cultist hell bent on reviving their ancient god from the Isle of the Forgotten. If the pace and weight behind the steps did not give it away then the occasional thumb of something large and thick against the stone floor most certainly did. Several patrons set down their drinks and eyed the entrance to the ale hall hoping against hope their day would not be spoiled by that man's arrival.

As if conjured forth from the fears of those who knew of him a man appeared in the open doorway to the bar; and yet, this was a something more than a man... this was someone greater! Basking in the subtle light of the ale hall stood a tall6'3" technically so shorter than some of our more beefier PCs. reptilian figure bearing an intricately pressed naval military uniform fitted for his unusual figure. Clawed hands, spines up his back, and two jutting horns protruding from his forehead marked him as far from ordinary. His gaze swept the hall seeming expecting all present to stand and applaud his proud appearance; but then again, many lesser men would be caught in utter awe at the sight of Bonaparte T. Rasque in the flesh! "Greetings fellow guild associates! No need to stand I can feel your admirations from here." A few of the newer guild mates gawked in awe at the apparent half dragon before their more experienced companions whispered something in their ears. "You can all rest easy for I have returned from my epic crusade against the vile Demonfrost Yeti clans of the north. Their frozen god shall not lay one finger upon our fine realm so long as I, Bonaparte T. Rasque have anything to say of it!"

As he spoke, Bonaparte gestured grandly with one hand while the other remained casually slipped into the seams between the buttons of his vest. "But there can be not but brief respite for one so great and I have been summoned once more by our most wise leader. No doubt a threat over whose victory my praises shall be sung for generations to come!" With his proclamation given, Bonaparte began to make his way to the bar. As he did, one younger lodge member whose left arm currently hung in a sling around his shoulder rose and did his best to hastily attempt an exit. His movement however was not unnoticed and before he could make it half way to the exit Bonaparte spared the man a knowing glance. "Ahhh Rodger! I see you are still recovering from our last venture into the nematode leech infested swamps to the far south east. Have you once again desired to share a place by my side in glorious battle?" The man seemed frozen in place as though he was afraid speaking would make things better or worse. "But why wouldn't you friend?! Hah, after I so effortlessly led us right to the heart of that bog hags lair and slew her in single combat this latest threat of beholders shall be child's play!" The apprehension in the man's eyes turned to indignation as he spat at the floor. "You pompous buffoon! You had us march half a day THROUGH the swamp instead of through safer paths around it. And the hag?! Half of us were cursed, bleeding, and covered in leeches while you stood back barking orders oh so casually. The hag was already on the floor dying when you SWOOPED in and killed her."

For his part, Bonaparte seemed not even phased by the man's accusations and began to retort before Rodger cut him off. "NO! NO! I don't want to hear another word or excuse from you about how it was all part of your master plan." Moving again, Rodger swiftly turned the corner to exit the ale hall as his good hand displayed a particularly rude gesture towards Bonaparte. "I'll take the damn leeches any day over HIM!" With those words still echoing with Rodger's departure, Bonaparte let out a hearty chuckle while tasking a seat at the bar near a beastial looking gnoll holding up a chalice fit for a king. "Poor Rodger, a man so humbled by my genius that he still refuses to let me heal his wounds. No doubt he wishes the scars to be a badge of pride from his time served under me. Ahhh Blackmoon my good barkeep, I'll have whatever this primitive looking gentleman beside me is partaking of." 

With a friendly nod and smile Bonaparte singled out the much larger gnoll as the "primitive gentleman" before seemingly dismissing Blackmoon altogether as he found a new open mindedpoor soul to introduce himself to. "Greetings hunter! You have the honor of addressing Bonaparte T. Rasque, yes, the Commandant himself as I'm sure my legend has spread across the guild."

The steady echo of boots upon the stone floor of the hall signaled the arrival of yet another guild member. Most of the less attentive folk paid it no mind while a small few with keener senses and memories suddenly grew ever so slightly apprehensive. It couldn't be him could it? He had been sent off on some insane quest to flush out a group of dire yeti cultist hell bent on reviving their ancient god from the Isle of the Forgotten. If the pace and weight behind the steps did not give it away then the occasional thumb of something large and thick against the stone floor most certainly did. Several patrons set down their drinks and eyed the entrance to the ale hall hoping against hope their day would not be spoiled by that man's arrival.

As if conjured forth from the fears of those who knew of him a man appeared in the open doorway to the bar; and yet, this was a something more than a man... this was someone greater! Basking in the subtle light of the ale hall stood a tall6'3" technically so shorter than some of our more beefier PCs. reptilian figure bearing an intricately pressed naval military uniform fitted for his unusual figure. Clawed hands, spines up his back, and two jutting horns protruding from his forehead marked him as far from ordinary. His gaze swept the hall seeming expecting all present to stand and applaud his proud appearance; but then again, many lesser men would be caught in utter awe at the sight of Bonaparte T. Rasque in the flesh! "Greetings fellow guild associates! No need to stand I can feel your admirations from here." A few of the newer guild mates gawked in awe at the apparent half dragon before their more experienced companions whispered something in their ears. "You can all rest easy for I have returned from my epic crusade against the vile Demonfrost Yeti clans of the north. Their frozen god shall not lay one finger upon our fine realm so long as I, Bonaparte T. Rasque have anything to say of it!"

As he spoke, Bonaparte gestured grandly with one hand while the other remained casually slipped into the seams between the buttons of his vest. "But there can be not but brief respite for one so great and I have been summoned once more by our most wise leader. No doubt a threat over whose victory my praises shall be sung for generations to come!" With his proclamation given, Bonaparte began to make his way to the bar. As he did, one younger lodge member whose left arm currently hung in a sling around his should rose and did his best to hastily attempt an exit. His movement however was not unnoticed and before he could make it half way to the exit Bonaparte spared the man a knowing glance. "Ahhh Rodger! I see you are still recovering from our last venture into the nematode leech infested swamps to the far south east. Have you once again desired to share a place by my side in glorious battle?" The man seemed frozen in place as though he was afraid speaking would make things better or worse. "But why wouldn't you friend?! Hah, after I so effortlessly led us right to the heart of that bog hags lair and slew her in single combat this latest threat of beholders shall be child's play!" The apprehension in the man's eyes turned to indignation as he spat at the floor. "You pompous buffoon! You had us march half a day THROUGH the swamp instead of through safer paths around it. And the hag?! Half of us were cursed, bleeding, and covered in leeches while you stood back barking orders oh so casually. The hag was already on the floor dying when you SWOOPED in and killed her."

For his part, Bonaparte seemed not even phased by the man's accusations and began to retort before Rodger cut him off. "NO! NO! I don't want to hear another word or excuse from you about how it was all part of your master plan." Moving again, Rodger swiftly turned the corner to exit the ale hall as his good hand displayed a particularly rude gesture towards Bonaparte. "I'll take the damn leeches any day over HIM!" With those words still echoing with Rodger's departure, Bonaparte let out a hearty chuckle while tasking a seat at the bar near a beastial looking gnoll holding up a chalice fit for a king. "Poor Rodger, a man so humbled by my genius that he still refuses to let me heal his wounds. No doubt he wishes the scars to be a badge of pride from his time served under me. Ahhh Blackmoon my good barkeep, I'll have whatever this primitive looking gentleman beside me is partaking of." 

With a friendly nod and smile Bonaparte singled out the much larger gnoll as the "primitive gentleman" before seemingly dismissing Blackmoon altogether as he found a new open mindedpoor soul to introduce himself to. "Greetings hunter! You have the honor of addressing Bonaparte T. Rasque, yes, the Commandant himself as I'm sure my legend has spread across the guild."