TheWizardLizard

Cinder Sickness - A DnD style classic RP

Um, I'm quite colorblind and don't want to give Tobias a color that's already been taken, so I'll say Tobias smells piss yellow gray.

If that's not actually gray, substitute a color that is actually gray, I have no idea.

Cinder Sickness - A DnD style classic RP

Tobias spread his hands theatrically and smiled at the barmaid. "Very astute of you. The tramp will have a mug of your very finest swill, if it isn't too much trouble," he said, biting his cheek to resist the temptation of the girl's delightfully unsecured coin purse. His itchy fingers could doubtless swipe it without her noticing... but in a room full of adventurers, it was probably best not to chance it.

He scanned the crowd inside the inn warily. Mostly his prospective companions, really. Fiona had moved to sit by the monk/demon cultist - Hanzo was his name. Sana was kissing and then speaking to someone new, a large older fellow - perhaps that was 'Big Brut Pally Hugh'. Tobias took a moment to register the hope that 'Pally' didn't stand for 'Paladin'. He never got along with paladins. The demon was sitting with them - apparently he wanted to be called 'Zack'. Also speaking to them was the sorcerer, who looked a little weary, like he'd just woken up from a nap.

Well, that seemed to be the highest density of his new 'friends'. If he was going to begin ingratiating himself with the people who'd be slaying Mist Dragons for him, that seemed like a place to start.

The rogue moved through the crowd and plopped loudly down at the table. "Cheers, adventurers! Tobias, for those who missed me: pickpocket, common scoundrel, dashing rogue, incorrigible trickster, defiler of a modest amount of daughters (all entirely willing, I'm not a nutcase), career criminal, con-man, cat-burglar, oh-so-loveable coward, savior of silly girls that get in over their heads, and now, prospective adventurer!" The thief leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the table. "Charmed. Oh, and if any of you are bothered by the 'career criminal' thing... I can run faster than you."

The Kin Bane - A Wild West Style Undead Hunting Campaign - Closed

My mistake. Edited.

The Kin Bane - A Wild West Style Undead Hunting Campaign - Closed

"Now you're sure this is for a man by the name of Westbrook?" The grizzled old marshal scratched his jaw with the question.

The brutish gravedigger in front of him answered without looking away from his work. "Yep. Weren't ten minutes ago, runner from the sheriff tells me a man named Westbrook's been shot by a bounty hunter, get diggin', Tom." The man spit into the shallow pit in front of him. "So, I done come out here, get digging, and I'm barely three shovels in when an old man comes up and starts askin' me the same question over and over."

Bill sighed and rubbed his brow. He mused in some corner of his brain that it was lucky he'd happened upon the gravedigger beginning his work just as he'd arrived in Brogden - otherwise, he might have stormed into town, weapons brandished, looking for a dead man.

The marshal let out a chuckle. "Damn hell. I hunt the bastard all over creation for months, and when I finally done run him down, he gets himself shot not ten minutes before I show up."

The gravedigger spat again and continued shoveling. "Jesus. He owe you money?"

Bill gestured to the badge on his breast, not that the man he was speaking to was looking at him. "Nah. US Marshal. Man was a real mean sonofabitch, from what I've heard." There was more to it then that, of course. Another reason for his dogged pursuit of the criminal. Bill hadn't known the man personally, but he just as easily might have.

A memory flashed into his mind. The flickering light of a campfire, the smell of bad hygiene and smoke, a belly full of food taken from some plantation or another, and a whole crowd of faces, all hollering and laughing. Mean sonsabitches, all.

He was shaken out of his ruminations by the sound of a shovel striking rock, and the gravedigger's hard voice. "Well, marshal, what you gonna do now that you done wasted your time?"

Bill turned and mounted his brown mare Daisy once again, clicking to turn her towards the town. "Well, reckon the first thing I do is find the man what shot him," he said, "And buy him a drink."

And so he rode off towards the town, mumbling a familiar tune under his breath. "Sherman's dashing yankee boys will never reach the coast... so the saucy rebels said and twas a handsome boast..."

When he arrived in the town, he found something not entirely to his expectation. There was a procession headed into the sheriff's office, all seeming in a real serious hurry. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but he definitely heard the name 'Westbrook' once or twice.

The marshal quickly tied up Daisy on a nearby post and hurried after them. By the time he entered the sheriff's office, all he was able to catch was the sheriff storming out of the back room with frustration clearly plastered on his face. Bill cleared his throat and addressed the man. "Pardon me, sheriff. Bill Cooper, US Marshal. I have been pursuing Mr. Westbrook for some time now, and I've just been informed he was shot earlier today. Now I hear a whole gaggle of folks talkin' bout him and runnin' up and down the street. Mind clearing things up for me, sheriff? What exactly happened to Westbrook?"

The Kin Bane - A Wild West Style Undead Hunting Campaign - Closed

Name: Bill Cooper
Age: 65
Nationality: American
Profession: US Marshall
Apperance/Clothing:

Bill Cooper

Combat Skills: Bill is a skilled marksman, either with his rifle or revolver, and is also very capable in a fist-fight or brawl, tending to fight very pragmatically with little regard for 'fair play'.
General Skills: Horseriding, tracking, and wilderness survival from his youth. He's also acquired a fair talent for investigation and information-gathering from his time as a Marshall.
Languages: English fluently, can communicate in Sioux.
Weapons: An 1873 Winchester rifle that he wears on his back, an 1875 Outlaw revolver at his belt, a knife in his boot and brass knuckles in his pocket.
Possessions: His old horse Daisy, his broad-brimmed hat, and precious litle else.
Personality: Bill is, above all things, a determined man, full of elderly grit and weather-worn toughness. He's not quite a no-nonsense guy, having a penchant for sarcasm and dry humor, and he can show a softer side around friends, especially those much younger than him. Finally, he also displays incredible personal courage in the face of danger, almost bordering on a lack of self-preservation.
History: Extensive, though I'll just provide the basics here. He was born 1819 in Virginia, and on the day of his eighteenth birthday traveled west to grow up with the country. He's had a great number of occupations on both sides of the law, fought for the Union in the Civil War, and has spent the last decade and a half as a US Marshall in the Dakota Territory. He has little in the way of family, except for a niece in Central City, Colorado.

Cinder Sickness - A DnD style classic RP

Tobias's eye spasmed as he surveyed the new arrivals. A goblin with a nasty-looking shortsword and a zombie with some kind of pixie-flower... thing. What was worse, nobody else seemed too concerned by this - the other human woman (Sana?) was even pleased to see the goblin; apparently, the two went back a ways. Well, a reason to distrust her had just landed in his lap, as though in answer to his prayers.

And what was even better, the nuns wouldn't let slip what the payment was! And once again, nobody seemed bothered by that! Everyone assembled was apparently prepared to march off to do battle with Mist Dragons and Eyewings on the vague say-so of a nun who only promised 'something valuable'. Bloody adventurers.

Well, he'd promised Fiona he'd take a look, and take a look he had. And guess what? He didn't like what he'd seen. Too much danger, not enough security, too many weirdos. Hell, he'd even mollified his conscience - there were enough people here to handle the job, enough actual adventurers. The orphans would be just fine, and Fiona... she knew what she was getting into.

As the others began to filter out to meet up in the inn, he was just opening his mouth to tell Fiona about his decision when her words from earlier appeared in his mind. "But look at this group. What if someone we meet needs to be persuaded of something? Most of them don't look like the sociable type to me. You could be really valuable to us."

She was right, even if she knew not how. These people, the wizards and warriors, the goblin, the elf, the demon, whoever 'Big Brut Pally Hugh' was, they all had something in common. They were bloody adventurers. Insane, the lot of them, all of them willing to blindly trust and run around fighting other people's battles for some misguided sense of heroism. They were going to get killed the first time someone offered them a trinket to slay a lich or fed them poisoned meat or in any way attempted to play them. If they were going to get anywhere... maybe they'd need a healthy dose of fear, cowardice, paranoia. Maybe they needed someone who wasn't an adventurer.

Dammit.

He turned to his companion and gave his best winning smile. "Well, this has all been informative. Suppose we'd better go meet the others at the inn, get to know each other? ... Don't turn your back on any of them." With a wink to the nun, the thief grabbed a few vials from the stockpile and, without looking to see if Fiona was behind him, made his way over to the tavern.

"Behold," he announced as he entered the... aromatic establishment. "The warrior and the tramp!"

Cinder Sickness - A DnD style classic RP

Alright, I've put up a post. I think I've been quite fair in Tobias's assessment of the other characters based on what's on their sheets, though do tell me if I've overstepped my knowledge boundaries and I'll edit it out.

Cinder Sickness - A DnD style classic RP

This was bad. Tobias had managed to take up position leaning against a wall viewing the doorway, the easier to see those who came in. And he did not like what he was seeing.

First, the hooded woman who'd been there before him and Fiona. She smelled strange, like the woods, and her cloak was covered in dew. This plus the high cheekbones he'd managed to catch a glimpse from evinced to him that she was an elf - he'd need to see her ears before he could be sure, however. That wasn't what scared him, though - what frightened him was the look he'd gotten at her face. Anyone else would have looked at her and seen a ravishing beauty - Tobias, however, was an old hand at sizing people up, and his eyes were drawn immediately to the web of scars covering her face in thin lines. She was not someone to mess with.

Next, the red-skinned 'wizard' with the barbed tail. What was there to say about him besides what he had whispered to Fiona when the man had finished his introduction? "Fiona. Demons. Polite demons."

Then, the bald man. This guy had a shaved head, was wearing some weird clothes Tobias couldn't even describe, and was totally ripped. Either he was a demon cultist, or worse, some sort of... what was that word again? Monk? Didn't sound right. Whatever.

The most recent arrival was the best. A woman, tanned and beautiful, with a recurve bow over her shoulder. At first glance he could see a whole lot to like and nothing to distrust - he'd have to try harder later.

Oh, the old woman was talking. Tobias probably should have been listening to that, but he'd been too deep in thought about his prospective companions. As the nun went around passing out parchments, Tobias accepted one and began scanning it immediately.

A small whimper escaped his mouth as he read the words. "Eh... heheh... is this all literal? Like, like, is, is 'Blood of Mist Dragon' like, a flower or, or do you mean that there's like, literally a thing called a Mist Dragon and you need its blood?"

Tobias rubbed the back of his neck as a newcomer entered the room, carrying a staff and wearing some sort of robe. Sorcerer. Brilliant.

"Uh, followup question. How much exactly are we getting paid?"

The Gifted: A Fast Paced Superpower RP (Relaunch)

I think my villain needs a new person to stalk obsessively with intent to murder.

Any volunteers/suggestions?

Cinder Sickness - A DnD style classic RP

I mean, in D&D, Elves do need to trance, which is pretty similar.