Nile

[The night before]

Standing just outside the mayor's manor, Nile can't help feeling incredibly fortunate as he looks from one face to the next. They were still making plans for that evening, but Nile was momentarily distracted, wondering if he'd felt this comfortable around a group of new people this quickly before. Nile had avoided others at first, preferring to travel the road alone, but it wasn't long before he'd discovered just how dangerous adventuring alone truly was. One close call had been enough. Even so, he had expected to drift from group to group, growing his power and his fortune slowly on his own. It had seemed foolish just a few weeks ago to trust anyone on the road. Perhaps it still was, but Nile was having a harder time remembering why.

As Desmond demonstrates his 'thick skin,' Nile squeezes his hands together, resisting the urge to reach up and knock on his noggin. How would one go about politely requesting permission to knock on a Warforged? Before Nile can give the question full consideration, Tinsley dives into his lineage, and Nile's thoughts are turned elsewhere. His puzzlement finally gives way as a look of understanding passes over his face. Nodding sagely, he remarks, "I think I can see it." He examines Tinsley even closer, sharp eyes roaming over the rogue's features. "And there's something else too, isn't there? Is that...did one of your ancestor's mate with a were-rat, perhaps?"

Later that night, Nile watches with interest as Jacques proceeds with the ritual necessary to bring Ophelia into his service. It's both fascinating and inspiring, as Nile can only imagine what sort of familiar he might choose given such an opportunity. A hound of some kind, perhaps.

Spoiler: OOC
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I can think of worse things to spend coin on. I have a few drinks, whether to join someone else or just to block out the sound of someone else snoring and/or the sight of Desmond staring unblinkingly.

(2d6)[5]


[The next morning]

Nile eyeballs the druid suspiciously, but ultimately doesn't say or do anything. Instead he thinks back, trying to remember if he's ever used a spell to catapult a living creature. He frowns, unable to remember such a time. If one were to catapult a squirrel into an ogre, how might that play out?