RC Tyrot: Fish and rain

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Yrinnyn:As Yrinnyn approaches the person, he/she makes no gesture toward him. The person might as well be sleeping. It may be the case, being that the rooms were full last night.

Players: No session this week.

 

Hmmm... maybe the person isn't sleeping but unconscious then? Yrinnyn comes closer to check if the person is breathing normally and if everything is well.

 

Yrinnyn hears faint breathing, and the long hair bobs slightly back and forth.

(Of course, Yri can always use a Spot check to determine more about the sleeping (?) person.)

[ August 29, 2003, 16:40: Message edited by: Oaz ]

 

(Yrinnyn takes Spot and Listen and whatever check applies)

 

(Spot check: 13 + 2 = 15)

Yrinnyn sees that the person is a woman, although he cannot see the face or anything else remarkable.

 

Yrinnyn checks (listens) if she's breathing regularly and asks the bartender if he's noticed anything strange about the woman.

 

(Listen check: 18 + 2 = 20)

Yrinnyn hears faint breathing.

The innkeeper shrugs and says that the woman over there just bought a drink and sat in the corner.

 

Yrinnyn is truly worried. Most probably she was washing down some distress with alcohol or was just tired after a journey and took more than she could handle. He asks if anyone here has come with the woman and attempts to check if anything is wrong about her. He also asks the bartender for a glass of water in advance.

[ August 29, 2003, 18:29: Message edited by: chevalier ]

 

"A copper fer the water. The woman? Ain't none of my business, and prob'ly noner yers."

 

"Probably so, but she might need help nonetheless. Thank you for the water"

Yrinnyn no longer remembers of his drink and why he first approached the person. He checks her pulse and prepares the water.

 

The woman violent jerks up and looks Yrinnyn in the face angrily.

"What in the hells do you think you're doing?!"

 

"Madam, you fell asleep at your table and, pardon my bluntness, you did not look in perfect health. I am a healer, sort of. Are you sure you are feeling alright?" says Yrinnyn in a calm and soothing voice, a serious one despite the slight friendly note.

 

"My health's fine, and I wouldn't give a damn if you were the king of the ocean. Now sail off."

 

"I'm sure you wouldn't." Yrinnyn smiles. "And I'm glad everything is well. Take care and have a good day." He is obviously not moved at all.

This having been said, Yrinnyn proceeds directly towards the very door of the inn, on his way relieving his almost full mug of all alcoholic burden in one attempt so nonchalantly as though he were removing dust from his fine sleeve, without stopping or looking behind even once.

 

Redhead rolls her eyes as Yrinnyn leaves.

"Jackass."

 

Yrinnyn, sends her a kiss without looking behind and goes on his way.

 

Tanari packs the panpipe, forgetting how civilization is and mutters "City folk.." under breath. He smiles at the remaining friends at the table.
"So.. is anyone up for some practice fighting? The beach has a wonderful view to it, and it would bring our minds off this wait. Perhaps you, master dwarf, could teach an old elf like me a few tricks?"
He gives Ratchett a friendly look, and gesturs towards the beach.

 

Ratchett shrugs. "Ah'm no much o' a fighter, but I could sure do wi' the practice." he says, "O'course if yer weapons are needin' any form of repair, I'd be only too happy to help." he sighs and mutters to himself, "been far too long since I did any honest craft.

 

Tanari looks curiously at Ratchett, as if caught unaware, "You're a craftsman then? How fascinating. I have to admit I never really had the knowledge of shaping it, although I've tried studying the art of imbueing weapons with magic. Unfortunately I haven't been successful to make the magic stay.. yet. Perhaps I could show you my home one day? We have some of the finest materials known to man, let me show you my blade."

He slowly draws the one and a half hand elfblade from the sheath, and puts it on the table for Ratchett to see. Long and light, the hilt is covered by obsidian snake ornament with a beautiful emerald gem in its fangs making the pommel. The actual blade is shaped somewhat like an extended leaf, with elven runes engraved onto each side of the blade.

"This is Lunaris, forged long ago by an elven weapons master, however his name is lost in legend. As you might have noticed already, it's made from mithral, making it extremely durable, and light as a gush of wind. This one is a sacred blade, meaning it has passed from parent to kin through the generations of a bloodline.."
He falls silent and stares at the blade, a slight smile forming on his face as he whispers something to the blade in sylvan, sounding like a strange form of elven.

 

The innkeeper looks suspiciously at Tanari, then Ratchett.

"Now y'listen here, elf. Yesterday there was a man comin' in here wit' armor 'n' a sword. Then you, with that sword. But I draw th'line here at you taking it outta yer sheath. Put it back, and that's that."

Besides, don't want some damn bandit killin' ya and takin' yer sword 'n' armor."