Post by Evelyn Abrams on Nov 28, 2014 0:49:29 GMT -5
[attr="class","BOXU"]
| STRENGTH: 0 |
| ENDURANCE: 0 |
| MAGIC: +5 |
| BARRIER: +3 |
| DEXTERITY: 0 |
| SPEED: +3 |
HEALTH: 100% (5/5)
MANA: 100% (15/15)
“Athoner pint over here, barkeep!” The man really did wonder why he even bothered to oblige the request of the girl seated at the bar, hardly tall enough to sit properly on the stool, not at all old enough to drink at his fine tavern, one of the smaller nooks and crannies of Valkyrie Avenue. She was clearly a heavy drinker, so she was a good paying customer, but for one, there was the moral concern of giving her more alcohol, despite that likely being a bad idea, and then, of course, there was also the fact that she was kinda annoying.
Seriously, several other customers had left the bar when the grating sound of her cymbals scraping against the bar every time she lifted a hand became too much to bear. “Uh, hey miss, think ya could put those down?” She gave him the most bewildered, albeit, slightly lopsided, look he’d ever seen before. Like a deer caught in headlights, the day open season coincided with a redneck monster truck rally. “w-wat. Put down my babies!? Why don’sch you put down your PANTS?”
“Well, uh, I suppose because I n-” Evelyn cut him off, mid-sentence, with a smug and victorious smile. “That’s wha’ I thought! Now gimme my drink, bar guy! P please, I meme.” The bartender responded by sighing, shaking his head, and heading her another pint of ale, as requested. He chose to keep in mind that most places didn’t really even have drinking ages, and most places that did, she was above them, probably. Evelyn, herself, choosing to ignore the fact that she had mispronounced “mean” in such a manner as to make it a greatly different word entirely, glanced around the room. There were quite a few people in the bar tonight, though not many stuck out to her a lot. One old lady with two heads was smoking a cigar while drinking shots of tequila, a guy in a top hat had a nice moustache, and there was a mysterious old hippie towards the other end of the tavern. The man three stools down from her, however, seemed the most intriguing.
With a great rattling and clattering of her cymbals, she scooted across to a stool closer to his, staring boldly up at the massive green man’s bulky head, with inquisitive young eyes of youth. Somewhere, a man in a green jumpsuit probably cried a tear of joy. But she didn’t care; she just wanted to know who this guy was, and what he was all about. From the looks of it, he’d had about as much to drink as her, though she doubted he was half as drunk; someone his size needed a lot more alcohol than a little girl, after all.
“Sup. I dunno if anyboby ever told you or not, but you’re hella tall. Hope ya don’t mindif I sit here, I’m Evelyn and it’s boring here. So who’re you, big guy?” Well, she certainly knew how to introduce herself in a rapid slurry of words. And who knew, maybe the two would wind up having super-fun drunken adventures? Drunken adventures were always gr8.
{ROLL FOR DEAD RINGER PERK: 6d6}
C_J3cN8z1-6 1-6 1-6 1-6 1-6 1-6
Seriously, several other customers had left the bar when the grating sound of her cymbals scraping against the bar every time she lifted a hand became too much to bear. “Uh, hey miss, think ya could put those down?” She gave him the most bewildered, albeit, slightly lopsided, look he’d ever seen before. Like a deer caught in headlights, the day open season coincided with a redneck monster truck rally. “w-wat. Put down my babies!? Why don’sch you put down your PANTS?”
“Well, uh, I suppose because I n-” Evelyn cut him off, mid-sentence, with a smug and victorious smile. “That’s wha’ I thought! Now gimme my drink, bar guy! P please, I meme.” The bartender responded by sighing, shaking his head, and heading her another pint of ale, as requested. He chose to keep in mind that most places didn’t really even have drinking ages, and most places that did, she was above them, probably. Evelyn, herself, choosing to ignore the fact that she had mispronounced “mean” in such a manner as to make it a greatly different word entirely, glanced around the room. There were quite a few people in the bar tonight, though not many stuck out to her a lot. One old lady with two heads was smoking a cigar while drinking shots of tequila, a guy in a top hat had a nice moustache, and there was a mysterious old hippie towards the other end of the tavern. The man three stools down from her, however, seemed the most intriguing.
With a great rattling and clattering of her cymbals, she scooted across to a stool closer to his, staring boldly up at the massive green man’s bulky head, with inquisitive young eyes of youth. Somewhere, a man in a green jumpsuit probably cried a tear of joy. But she didn’t care; she just wanted to know who this guy was, and what he was all about. From the looks of it, he’d had about as much to drink as her, though she doubted he was half as drunk; someone his size needed a lot more alcohol than a little girl, after all.
“Sup. I dunno if anyboby ever told you or not, but you’re hella tall. Hope ya don’t mindif I sit here, I’m Evelyn and it’s boring here. So who’re you, big guy?” Well, she certainly knew how to introduce herself in a rapid slurry of words. And who knew, maybe the two would wind up having super-fun drunken adventures? Drunken adventures were always gr8.
{ROLL FOR DEAD RINGER PERK: 6d6}
C_J3cN8z1-6 1-6 1-6 1-6 1-6 1-6
[attr="class","uhm"]gareth | [attr="class","uhm"]Alas, nobody was smitten by cymbals of doomdeath today yet. | [attr="class","uhm"]523 |
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