Sandbox Rock Stars!

[Darth_Malevo]

Out of the frying pan and into the fire!

The man accosted by Hawk was of the wealthier variety. It was quite obvious he was just passing through town: The hat the man wore was made from authentic leather, a fine linen cape around his shoulders. "Eh?" He asked, his fancy breeches and knee-high leather boots marking him as one of the wealthier folk. "Ah, yes. I can tell by your...features." He remarked, drawing a scented handkerchief from his breast pocket and holding it up to his face. "You're looking to join one of these hillbilly gangs, aren't you? Rough'n'tumble around with the hicks as they bully the odd native?"
____________________________________
Tactical withdrawals are always an option

Thankfully the goblins did not seem too keen to adventure out beyond the line of sight of their taskmaster: A basic racial instinct that was ingrained in them by the mere achievement of living to puberty. After a few minutes they shambled back to the docks to continue unloading, and the psion was well as his way back to the swamp village, knowing quite a few valuable things about this operation: There was a human leading it, puny goblins formed the bulk of it, and the creatures were both stupid and cowardly when they weren't driven forward by the lash. Perhaps useless, perhaps not?

Regardless, as he re-entered the village, he saw what appeared to be a large bird of prey given a vaguely human-like body emerge from the sole tavern. With all the social graces of a barbarian, he fell upon a traveler, using copious amounts of visible strength to try to intimidate the man. Certainly a fine specimen of...whatever sort of species looked like what happened when the hillbillies here got loose in the henhouse.

[Schism]

Darren Vo'ryn

Darren lifted one foot off the ground and shook it about, futilely trying to free the various pieces of swamp muck from the leather. Disgusting to look at, surely, but not half so bad as what had seeped into his boot as was now playing footsies with him. Still, it could have been worse. It could have been his blood he was trying to clean off of his clothing.

The sight of Hawk attempting to intimidate an inhabitant of the town was only mildly surprising, and it evoked a single raised eyebrow from Darren. Not a raised brow for the act, but rather for the crudeness with which it was performed. A back alley thug in Tiral could do as much, and with twice as much finesse.

Regardless, Hawk's dealings with the man were hardly Darren's concern. If the creature took it upon himself (itself? Darren wasn't quite sure of Hawk's gender, truth be told.) to get arrested, that was his doing. In fact, it could be quite humorous.

A smirk playing at his features, Darren turned in the direction of the militia watchtower. Since his previous plans had failed to pan out, he intended to fall back on the prospect of looking for work there. If the louts looked halfway competent, he might be so kind as to alert them to the scuffle. Maybe. Depending on whether there was a reward for that sort of thing or not.

[Hecktar]

Hector Graves

---

After a rather lengthy discussion with the ship's captain on whether or not Rohan, a stallion with a sleek brown coat, had been brought aboard by Hector was settled, Hector was free to embark onto the Isle of the Hundred.

He left the pier feeling... dirty.

Patting down his person Hector found he had not been robbed of any of his belongings. Most likely because he did not have anything worth stealing, most notably he regretted the lack of weight of his coin purse.

There were three things that needed to be done; find a place for himself to stay, find a place for Rohan and find a way to raise the fare for his and his steed's lodgings. Deciding first it would be prudent to find a stable and perhaps garner some information about the town and possible work from the stablemaster Hector set off at a comfortable trot towards the town.

At home Hector prided himself on trying anything once. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to try sleeping in a stable? Hah! He hoped it wouldn't come to that.

[Sallera]

Izen

"Eh wot?" Blinking, the kobold turns to look at the man, using a wooden pole three times his height to balance on the wobbly chair. "Oh, yes, indeed. I am a caller of lightning, controller of the forces of the sky. Yourself?"

[aje8]

OOC: Well..... I have no idea why my character did not get off the boat sooner...... so I'm going to just ignore it.

Morrel:

The quick Gnome practically bounces off the ship. "New places to explore! New knowledge to find! New skills to learn! This is going to be a blast," Morrel thinks to himself. He practically flies towards the magic item shop. Morrels enters the shop and begins browsing.

[Darth_Malevo]

Welcome to the bureaucracy. Take a number.

The broken-down watchtower was not much better on the inside than it was on the outside: The door into the antechamber/check-in/check-out/entrance to the dungeons creaked like the bones of the elderly being broken. Not that he knew what that sounded like, mind you, but were of he the sort to perform such terrible acts he would most likely identify such a creaking sound with such a sound as that. Thankfully the psion wasn't of that low a moral fiber: Had he been such a person, he might have been inclined to take advantage of the situation within.

A lone watchman, wearing a chainmail skirt and crude iron breastplate, sat behind one of the few pieces of furniture in the cold stone room: A hand-me-down wooden desk that had what appeared to be a dwarven axe buried in it. The militia clerk worked around the annoyance, however. A large number of ledgers were piled up in one corner, the man scribbling on a small piece of parchment before impaling it on a large spike set up in one corner of the desk. Several other similarly-sized pieces of parchment were also stuck on the spike.

"Can I help you, sir?" He asked with the dull respect of somebody bossed around for a career. A fresh slip of parchment came into his hand as he waited for the Elan to speak, the inkwell next to him refreshing his quill.
_______________________
Sleeping in the stables? Some couple did that a while ago....worked out nice for them.

The town did indeed have some stables: Set up next to what appeared to be a two-story blacksmithy/general store. The building was perhaps one of the nicest in town: It actually had windows, which even now were sealed up. The building was set up on a series of wooden foundations, overlooking a series of small shanties dotting the waterside around it. Smoke rushed up from the chimney as a few vagrants sat along the wooden path to the front door which, contrary to the others around town, actually could be considered a nice door for a house. The door swung open in a haze as a hyperactive blur bolted by the cavalryman and his horse, the bell barely having time to jingle.

The only person in the stables was the stableboy, who- even now- was mucking out the stalls with a pitchfork and some hay. The only problem was that the boy wasn't entirely human: His left arm appeared to be made out of fired clay, but he moved it as thought it was entirely natural on his body. No older than sixteen winters, he looked up as Hector approached. "Good af'rnoon, sir!" He greeted, smiling and waving to the man. "Five gold a night for that horse you got." He remarked, before looking the horse up and down. "An' I plum reckon that's a nice horse you got there, sirrah. What's 'er name?"
______________________________
No, really, it's just the booze that's making me do it.

"Hehe!" The tiny man said, taking a slug of the horrible alcohol they drank here. How he could manage to drown himself in it, even the kobold couldn't fathom: And his people usually lived in caves! "Thunder mage, are ya? I'm a wizard too!" He said, pointing to his hat, "I've got the...the hat! And the robe, too! An' I'm a weeezard." He joked, "Get it? Because I'm small! But...but I ain't poor!" He yelled to the yokels around him, the table of thugs from the Vrock's incident earlier just eyeballing the tiny man before sipping their drinks.

"That's right!" He said, patting the Kobold on the head, "I'm rich! Rich an' powerful! An'...an'...you know what, buddy?" He asked, "I'm gonna call you Sparky, 'cuz there was this lizard I saw once, an' he shot lightning! An' then he didn't breathe so goods." He rambled on in a drunken stupor, pointing to the door outside. "And you know what? You've been a grreeaaaaat listener." He decided eventually, "An' that's great! Because you're a great buddy, Sparks..."
________________________________
So much hot air...can't...breathe!

The city was just a blur to the curious gnome, who quickly found himself inside of the two-story building. The entrance floor seethed with magic, a lone man sitting behind the register. Upon seeing the Gnome enter, his face split into a wide smile. Like the other inhabitants he was missing teeth, but unlike the others he had pearly white replacements for those he had been unfortunate enough to misplace. His spry frame leaped over the counter with ease, his short-cropped hair tied into a short ponytail. His angular face was vaguely reptilian, the sharp angles lending him an educated quality. His attire, however, was functional and unimpressive grey robe had only a single ceremonial dagger at his hip. He gestured to the goods around him, everything from bags of grain to exotic skulls and bubbling potions present. Several bundles of cloth with rope cords had been nailed to the walls, no doubt meant to be unwound to present the goods held within.

"I have fine furs from Bosphoran Buffalo; Hand picked Lemiya Berries from the Anitoc Forest; Phebosian screaming jars; Cat's first hairballs; Greasy Gears and Gears of Grease; Cyratean Water bubbles suspended in elemental oils! I have washers for those of crafty sorts--quality of any kind, of course. I also have rare metals, medallions, amulets and lumens. Well, not really--those are hard to transport you see. I have them somewhere though! Flasks of Sadian Sand, Hats from Sinai and great bats from the caves there...somewhere. Looking for robes?! I've got twenty! Tyrosian, Damasian, Phebosian, even Ceman. Looking for riches from far away lands? I've got things not even local Adepts know of! Amar Erin furs, potions, scrolls and cases. Things so odd it would make your eyes burn with interest! Want maces? Got plenty," He pulled on one of the cords, a long row of variously sized of cudgel and club becoming present: Everything from tiny wooden saps to giant steel warhammers that glowed with an inner light. "I've got goods from all over, my boy! Maces and Great Maces, weapons from the great artisans from Sarmdur Karbok itself--hand picked! Lockets of invulnerable metals; guaranteed not to dent before the night's end. Scimitars from Al Omar--straight from the heart of the Sadian Wasteland! I've even got Jarred Whirlygigs from the Devians in Karza! Chains?" He says taking another long breath. "I've got countless lengths and lengths with counts--made of metals and materials that one wouldn't think could hold a chain shape! Copper, Iron, Cold Iron, Dark Steel, Adamantine, Zurich, Pale Steel, Death Iron, Star Metals of all kinds! Prices for things and things with prices--we have all kinds of trash for those pockets!" He smiles once more in a finishing tilt of his crooked head and bows over his goods with interest set on the tiny intruder.

[Gorgondantess]

Hawk lets the man go, brushing him off and holding back his rancid breath. "No, no, not at all my good sir. I see that you are not a local, so forgive me for wasting your time. Good day."
With that, Hawk steps away, and accosts the next person he sees.

[Darth_Malevo]

Is there a problem, officer?

The next person Hawk ran into was indeed a native, one who could very well help him find whatever he needed: A sole member of the town militia, a large cudgel held in the loop of his belt. His belly was large enough that he had to loosen the breastplate over his torso, his helmet having been reworked to eventually fit around his head. Pointing to the Vrock he spoke with a voice perfectly fitting for his form: Blubbery and using small, easily-swallowed words. "Is there a problum hurr?" He asked, his eyelids struggling against the massive weight of his forehead as he looked blankly at the monster. "'Cuz I ain't gett'n' paid ta let there be problums." He stated reassuringly, demonstrating the vast intellect that years of interbreeding amongst the populace has generated in the security here. Honestly, it was a miracle that the goblins hadn't butchered everybody in the town like cattle yet.

But perhaps Hawk could use an idiot to help him out? Who could tell, with somebody as thick-skulled as the specimen before hi- Was he drooling? Why, yes, there was a little fleck of drool running down the side of his chin! He was actually slack-jawed enough to drool whilst he waited!

[Gorgondantess]

Hawk raises his eyebrows. "Ah, yes. There's a woman. Being attacked... over there." Hawk points in the direction of the swamp. "About ten miles, yes. Just keep going until you find her. Um... she's very pretty, too."
As soon as he gets the idiot well, away, he sighs, and accosts the next person.

[Schism]

Darren Vo'ryn

"Ah... hm." Darren mused, looking around the interior of the watchtower. Depressingly spartan in its accouterments, the tower nevertheless said a great many things about the people who worked within - and without - it. None of them were very positive.

"Not a very welcoming place," he remarked idly, sauntering toward the desk. "Though I suppose that has its benefits." He put on another of his almost-smiles, just wide enough to reveal a hint of teeth, then placed a hand on the desk and leaned forward conspiratorially.

"You know, I admire guardsmen such as yourself. Day in and day out, working for the betterment of people who hardly notice you, and for what? Pay? Hah, if I don't miss my guess completely, your pay is about on par with a traveling show whose juggler can't juggle and whose storyteller is an old drunk. Pity, but there you have it." He paused for a moment, raising his free hand to his lips and tapping a finger against them, as though deep in thought.

"Not to lay another problem atop your pile of burdens, but there's a bit of a scuffle going on near the tavern - usual affair for these parts, I'm sure, but I thought you'd like to know. And if you and your fine companions happen to need some help, well... I consider myself to be amiable enough, for a coin or two."

[Hecktar]

Hecktor Graves

---

Hector's mind at ease after seeing the quality of the stable compared to the tavern and many other derelict buildings he had passed on the way here, he felt more than comfortable with the idea of leaving Rohan here as he passed through the doors of the structure.

The inhuman stable boy greeted him warmly and Hector did his best to not stare too much at his artificial arm.

"Good afternoon! This is Rohan, he's more than nice once you get to know him. Hasn't let me down yet," Hector smiled. "About that cost, I don't quite have the currency on me I was wondering if you knew of any work in the area? Or at least tell me what's been going on here recently so I might know where to begin to look?"

[Darth_Malevo]

What do you take me for? An ogre?

The dimwit cocked his head, turning to Hawk as he wiped the drool away from his chin. "Dat's outta my reh...ru...ru-rur-ru" He paused for a second as he counted something out on his fingers, "Restrictshun." He eventually decided, before turning to stop the Vrock from bothering a little old lady. "Thought you'd pull one over on Barnabus, didja?" He declared, his large chest expanding even more. "You wanna try yur last answer again, birdy-boy? Or are you gonna getcherself slapped in irons an' talked to down at the stayshun?"
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I'll put it on file

The clerk scribbled on the note, looked at it, looked at it again, then turned to the psion before him. "Yeah, the pay's poor, so what? We're kept fed 'n' clothed, and we get a bit of scratch on the side, if'n you catch my meaning." He said with a smile, "But a scuffle down by the tavern? Who between? Zyre's men find another lout bothering that little freak at the counter?" He asked, quill hovering over the piece of parchment. "And how much do you think you're worth? We get plenty of offers for labor here, but nobody has quite the right skills, if you catch my drift."
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Jerb! Those guys have yer jeeeeerb!

The boy looked at the shop nearby, then down at the stable. "If you want a job, I'd speak with my boss Kereveld. I think he's up and around, sir, but I'm sure my other boss- Misser Willhelm- is in the shop. But don't you worry about Rohan, sir!" He said with a smile, petting the horse with his clay arm. The beast tilted its head sideways, the ears giving a curious flick. "He'll be in good hands with me! You can pay later for storing him: I can tell you're a nice guy, sir, if'n I do say so myself."

[Schism]

Darren Vo'ryn

So that was how this was going to go, was it? Well, Darren had dealt with employers like that before. Unpleasant, but one could hardly blame the man, considering what he likely had to deal with on a daily basis.

"Between a... ah... you know, I don't think I caught a very good look at the other man. He looked to be roughing up a nicely dressed fellow though, so I imagine he's little better than a strongarm or the like," Darren said, lying with the practiced ease of someone who had spent a lifetime dealing with crooks and brigands.

"In regards to my price, I leave that in your capable hands. Truth be told, I'm more interested in establishing a reputation than in filling my coinpurse. If you need my services, I'd be appreciative if you could make arrangements for sleeping quarters. Other than that, I trust you'll make an agreeable decision as to my pay. What say you? Should I bring you the lout's head, or will bringing him in for jailing suffice?"

[Gorgondantess]

Hawk sighs, walks over to the man, and punches his face in.

Spoiler

Show

Unarmed strike.
(1d20+7)[10]
(1d3+6)[8]
Well. Crap. Let's just hope he doesn't have a dex mod, eh?

[Hecktar]

Hector Graves

---

With a smile and nod Hector says, "Thanks, I appreciate it," as he leaves the stable. Fully wishing once outside he had taken a closer look at the stable boy and that arm of his. Oh well, as safe in there as out here even if that odd stable boy threw Rohan off a bit. I'll check back in soon, Hector reasons with himself as he moves towards the nearby shop.

A step away from entering the shop, Hector reconsiders. He sneaks up to one of the windows and looks inside trying to figure out if he's overreacting or there is something more to this young stable boy.

Spoiler

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I don't know if these are the right skill checks/or if I even need to do skill checks unless you tell me to but I want to fiddle with the dice roller so I'm doing them anyway. Also, I did cheat a bit since I just editted my stat sheet to correctly allocate skill points and I boosted gather information higher than it was before but I promise now that it's accurate I won't touch it anymore. Anyways...

Gather Information: (1d20+7)[27]
Hide: (1d20+6)[7]
Move Silently: [roll]1d20+6[/roll]

[Darth_Malevo]

What are you, an assassin?

The man looked up from his paperwork, scribbling a final line onto the note before stuffing it into his shirt. "His head?" He asked, somewhat revolted, "Isn't that more along the lines of the work Zyre and the Shiny Baggies do? I mean, you do want to do copper work, right?" He inquired suddenly, slightly worried at the Elan's statement. "We don't really kill people in this line of work: Smugglers that resist arrest? Sure. The odd crazed hunter that abducts young women? Of course. But...we're not really the sort to shank muscle in the street. We'll give you a place to stay, sure, but..."

He pulled a small ring out of a desk drawer, set between some copper coins and a stack of freshly-inked papers. "Take this. If you need some help, just think the word 'Backup' really hard and focus on the ring. Besides that, I suppose I could get you a writ for a discount at the local item shop for a citizen's arrest reward." He replied, thinking.
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I'm really just half of one

The idiot just stood there as Hawk swung at him, the two punches bouncing off of the iron of his helmet. Naturally, his knuckles hurt slightly as the idiot surged into motion, a rolling tide of hillbilly strength bore down on the little man, his fists delivering a counter-salvo to make the monster think twice before attacking an officer of the peace. Let alone one who, apparently, has the strength only home-grown hillbillies possess.

Spoiler

Show

(1d20+8)[21]
[roll]1d6+3[/roll]
It came out 5...Hawk takes 5 points non-lethal damage.

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He's a horrible, horrible freak of nature! Burn him at the stake! With your steak!

The young boy led Rohan into the stables, patting the horse atop the head here and there as he moved about his duties. The first of which was to get some fresh oats into the horse's feeding trough, and the last of which ended up with him leaning over the divider, his artificial hand holding a brush as he cleaned off the horse from its watery journey. The animal, for its part, behaved quite well. It didn't try to kick his face off, or even take a snap at him when he rubbed its neck. The horse just stood there, occasionally taking a few nibbles from his food. The boy did, however, perform a few interesting tasks with that arm of his: For example, the brush he used was not held. It did, in fact, simply materialize the bristles from his palm like rapidly growing hairs.

He also happened to lift an entire wheelbarrow full of manure with the arm, rolling it outside as though it were as light as a feather. Whatever that arm of his was, it certainly had some arcane properties to it: Even Hector could tell that.

[Schism]

Darren Vo'ryn

"Well, one never knows," Darren said lightly, accepting the ring. "I've been all over, and a good many cities want heads over bodies. Can't say I prefer it, but I've found it a good idea to offer. Don't you worry a hair on that blessed pate of yours though, chum, I'll be back in two licks with that rapscallion in one piece, or my name isn't Jorgald Henders!"

With that, Darren did an about-face and exited the watchtower, a plan already brewing in his mind. He set off in search of Hawk, though he doubted the... whatever it was... had gone very far.

He had no intentions of turning Hawk in, of course. The creature could likely tear his face off with a good hit, and the guards in this town could hardly stand a better chance than he. No, a fall guy was what he needed, a loutish drunk whose arguments would be slurred by alcohol and believed by none. And where better to find said loutish drunk than at the tavern?

Of course, if Hawk had actually killed the man by the time Darren arrived to 'intervene', that would be a different story altogether. A touching tale of showing up just a moment too late, and the heroic battle that ensued might just earn him even more coin, especially if the man was as rich as Darren took him to be.

Spoiler

Show

Yes, I'm aware that Hawk is actually fighting a guard now, but the last thing Darren saw was the Vrock and a gentleman having words. Things might be subject to change when he sees what's actually going on.

[Gorgondantess]

Spoiler

Show

Emm... "little man?" I'm a giant vrock, not a little man. Also, how did this guy get levels in monk?

Hawk flails at him, not trying to kill the guy but just teaching him not to mess with 8' tall demons.

Spoiler

Show

NL damage, full attack.
Claw1:(1d20+3)[22]
Claw2:(1d20+3)[10]
Beak:(1d20+1)[21]
Claw1(1d8+6)[10]
Claw2:(1d8+6)[7]
Beak:(1d6+6)[11]

[aje8]

(Man, I hope this extreme salesman won't object to browsing....... My character doesn't have much money on him, but he loves this kinda thing. Also, I hope the party actually meets up at some point.)

"I have fine furs from Bosphoran Buffalo; Hand picked Lemiya Berries from the Anitoc Forest; Phebosian screaming jars; Cat's first hairballs; Greasy Gears and Gears of Grease; Cyratean Water bubbles suspended in elemental oils! I have washers for those of crafty sorts--quality of any kind, of course. I also have rare metals, medallions, amulets and lumens. Well, not really--those are hard to transport you see. I have them somewhere though! Flasks of Sadian Sand, Hats from Sinai and great bats from the caves there...somewhere. Looking for robes?! I've got twenty! Tyrosian, Damasian, Phebosian, even Ceman. Looking for riches from far away lands? I've got things not even local Adepts know of! Amar Erin furs, potions, scrolls and cases. Things so odd it would make your eyes burn with interest! Want maces? Got plenty," He pulled on one of the cords, a long row of variously sized of cudgel and club becoming present: Everything from tiny wooden saps to giant steel warhammers that glowed with an inner light. "I've got goods from all over, my boy! Maces and Great Maces, weapons from the great artisans from Sarmdur Karbok itself--hand picked! Lockets of invulnerable metals; guaranteed not to dent before the night's end. Scimitars from Al Omar--straight from the heart of the Sadian Wasteland! I've even got Jarred Whirlygigs from the Devians in Karza! Chains?" He says taking another long breath. "I've got countless lengths and lengths with counts--made of metals and materials that one wouldn't think could hold a chain shape! Copper, Iron, Cold Iron, Dark Steel, Adamantine, Zurich, Pale Steel, Death Iron, Star Metals of all kinds! Prices for things and things with prices--we have all kinds of trash for those pockets!" He smiles once more in a finishing tilt of his crooked head and bows over his goods with interest set on the tiny intruder.

The curious Gnome responds in an equal fast voice:
"Furs? Of what powers to such interesting furs have? Anitoc Forest? Were is this? What can said berries do? Where did you say the screaming jars were from? Whirlygigs? What are these? Chains?! My weapon of choice! Zurich? I have never heard of such a maetrial! How does one come-upon such wonders! "

(If you'd rather not come up with the specifics of what random items do, we can just assume the guy does in fact explain them to the Gnome.)

[Jade_Tarem]

Ursuun

Ursuun sits back and watches the altercation. He sort of wants to join in, but he doesn't really care for either of the participants enough to do so. He looks at his mug and decides that trying the rotgut would be enough danger for now...

[Hecktar]

Hector Graves

---

Safely away from the window Hector laughed at himself for being so uptight. He passed it off as simply being out of sorts in these new surroundings. Rohan was in capable hands and from what it looked like capable whatever instrument a horse would need while he was staying there. The sheath of his short sword had swung loose when he had tip-toed to peek in through the window. It now hung over top of his clothing so he repositioned it beneath the folds of his long green tunic before entering the shop.

Hector looks around at the shop itself as well as for what he assumes to be one of the proprietors.

"Mister Willhelm?"

[Darth_Malevo]

The police always arrive too late.

The Elan moved through the small town, finding a crowd forming around the Vrock as he tore into the guard. Flesh ripped, cheers erupted, and a quick game of betting had erupted amongst the unhygienic natives as they watched the scuffle. Unfortunately, with the way the Vrock was clawing at the man, he wouldn't last much longer. Several betters booed as blood went flying, others cheering as yet more clinking coppers were exchanged. One man bet a small pig, and ended up losing his house. Another won a small pig and a house.

Yet as he watched, several men were moving towards the fight, dressed in a mixture of greens, tans, and browns. In their center stood a man large enough to be an ogre, his face adorned with a large unkempt beard. A large axe was strapped to his hip, a solid iron belt keeping pants large enough to serve as a parachute up above the crack of his backside. Obviously these men were here for a bit more interesting things than a mere bloody exchange.
_______________________________
Your flailing about only makes him weaker!

Claws presented, the large bird-like man tore into the simpleton guard. Claws scratching across his face, the man screamed as part of his lower lip was torn clean off. A claw was deflected by his armored breastplate, but the Vrock's vicious beak plunged into his left eye with enough force to tear the organ right out. Gore dripped from the body part as the man cascaded into one of the fish stalls, hand over his face as he screamed in hillbilly pain. A number of the onlookers jeered at him, demanding he get up whilst others placed bets upon his time of death, called dibs on his body parts postmortem, and generally raised a ruckus.

Yet he arose once more, swinging blindly as he used only one eye to aim.

Spoiler

Show

(1d20+6)[24] (-2 for one-eye)
(1d3+3)[6] (If the above hits)

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This is why WOTC made 4e: Too many options.

The man smiled widely at the gnome, reaching into one pile of giant furs as his animated energy matched that of the Gnome. Drawing one from the middle, he aired it out with a sharp flap. Dust flew up from the pelt as it waved about in the air: Except it did not descend. "Hide of the Buffafloat that bit you!" He said, as the fur rug- for all intents and purposes- simply hovered in the air on an invisible current. "Guaranteed to keep on floating for hours! Amuse your friends! Amuse your family! Amuse yourself from a very high vantage point and a quiver of arrows that never err!" He offered, grabbing a handful of berries that looked unnaturally large: Each about the size of a small orange. "Lemiya berries, made only by the Lemiyas! Don't ask me how, because I don't know! They're just large, and they're great when mixed in with a bit of boiled water!"

He winked at the gnome, "Can't tell you where they're from, though! I got them in Al Qatar- a lovely place, if I do say so myself- and they were worth every grain of ash!" His hands were a flurry of motion as he held aloft a large clay urn inscribed with the image of various screaming faces and a number of unintelligible symbols. "Straight from Phebosia! Made from the dying screams of the virgin sacrifices of their temples, I'm told! Quite barbaric, if you ask me, but that's just part of the wonderful world of religion!" He dismissed in under five seconds, sucking in about half the air in the room in one great gulp. No wonder he was so skinny: He needed all of the room possible to expand his lungs. Setting what appeared to be a giant double helix with a tiny wooden duck attached atop the floating fur, he wound the tail several times.

The little toy took to the air, zipping about this way and that as he narrated. "Whirlygigs! Wonderful toys, really, with no small amount of genius put into them! They were quite the trade, I had to give up quite a bit to get that!" He declared as the toy went in a perpetual loop around the room. Eventually he stopped speaking, looking behind the Gnome and apparently forgetting the last question.
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Dwarf in a tavern!

As the dwarf sat there, watching the horrible brawl take place, the pile of clothes eventually moved up to him, its scarf re-attached with a series of tiny "Eenf!" sounds. The Gutrot was quite horrible, and even the dwarf could feel that some time in the future he would be regretting this swampy drink. "You adventurer, yes-right?" The tiny bartender asked, looking the dwarf up and down, "Not related-friend to Pansy over there, no?" He pointed to the girly dwarf still passed out, "Big, tough-smart dwarf from the distant mountains? The Gimblin Trevin has interesting past-history, and its staff would be willing-ready to pay for help-aid from possible dwarf-friend."
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Why hello thar

The man entered the shop in time for a flying toy to whiz over his head, a Gnome and an unnaturally skinny human conversing with one another at what sounded like the speed of sound. His interruption drew a smile from the human, who looked up to him. "Yes? Can I interest you in the fine whirlygig you just ducked? Or perhaps you would like a Ring of Ringing? Or are you more the sort for a Devian Destructor? You seem quite intelligent, so perhaps I could offer you a Devashi Tracker?"

[Jade_Tarem]

Ursuun

"Indeed I would. What's yer history with me clan?"

[Gorgondantess]

Spoiler

Show

Rolls, flavor to come:
Claw:(1d20+3)[4], (1d8+6)[13]
Claw2:(1d20+3)[7], (1d8+6)[14]
Beak (going for lethal) (1d20+5)[10], (1d6+6)[7]
...well, that's unlucky.

Hawk flails at the man, somehow missing most (all?) of his shots. Seeing that he may well be outmatched, he runs over to the nearest building and leaps up to it, climbing up.

[Schism]

Darren Vo'ryn

Darren paused for a heartbeat, considering. He certainly felt no loyalty toward Hawk, having found the creature's company on the trip to be trying at best. Still, there was the matter of the reward...

He drew his sword with one hand while groping into the muck with his other, suppressing a squirm of disgust when his fingers closed around something unpleasantly soft. Thusly armed, he ran forward, pushing his way through the crowd. "Hold! Hold, you fool!" he shouted, as much to Hawk as to the guard he had just ravaged.

Neither one of the two looked to be in a good way, but despite his missing eye, Darren judged that the guardsman was the closer to being called the victor. Fixing the man with a baleful stare, he said: "I've orders to bring that one back to cool his head in a cell for a while. Alive, mind you. Leave off."

Spoiler

Show

Enter Battle Mantra stance.

Ready action to attack the guard if he moves to strike Hawk again.

[aje8]

(Confused, is the man that just walked into the shop a PC or an NPC? There's so much going on in this thread it's hard to tell what's what. Also, my character is offically interested in working in this shop.)

[Hecktar]

Hector Graves

---

Hector was overwhelmed and in the path of an aerial highway apparently. But only for a moment as his eyes took in the rather spectacular... ridiculous?.. scene before him, he felt as though he had stepped into an alien world after having dealt with the muddy squalor outside.

"... well, hmm, what exactly is a ring of ringing? Er, I mean no thank you, I just left the stable," Hector paused realizing he did not even get the stable boy's name, "the young man there told me you may have jobs you need help completing. I would be interested in knowing if you have any work for me." He kept quiet about the debt he was already in towards the man as he did not know whether or not he would get his new clay armed friend in trouble.

"Sorry for interrupting," Hector addressed the gnome absentmindedly.

[Darth_Malevo]

Why can't it be a "pleasant mystery box with wonderful prizes inside!"?

The tiny man stepped aside, waddling over to a section of the dirt floor. Wiping away bits of muck and grime, a small trap door was revealed. It was perhaps only a few inches across, but the small man raised it quickly and quietly. Producing a lockbox from within, he set it upon the counter. "Gimblin Trevin not always here." He remarked, "Dwarves once lived-stayed here, dwarves from long ago. Seeking metals, likely-possibly."

With a swift turn of a key produced from the inside of the barkeep's disguise, the lockbox was opened. "Kereveld see-say it is made by Dwarves. What does new dwarf-friend think?"

The object inside was what appeared to be a sphere of some sort, consisting of multiple movable parts. What appeared to be dwarven runes were embossed along its length, but these symbols- unmagical from what he could tell- were much older than anything he had seen before in dwarven lore. And that was saying quite a lot. What could at least be determined by a cursory glance was that it was old, likely valuable, and also quite exotic considering the amount of movable parts it bore.
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Scamper up the roof! Scamper!

The Vrock unleashed a series of missing blows, the flailing man scrambling away as the crowd jeered at the wounded militia member. In the background, the group of men moved together towards the battle. Thankfully, the Vrock was quick to leap onto the nearest single-story tenement building. Claws working furiously, he quickly grabbed hold of the thatch roofing at the top. Down below, the Elan was apparently speaking to the guard he had ravished.
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Hold the line!

The man simply wailed as his eye socket bled, a pair of men in wide-brimmed hats shaking their heads as they dragged the man up and off. Behind him, the gang of men appraised the duo as they spoke: Just as though the psion had claimed that he was about to sail to the moon aboard a wooden barrel. Obviously they were not used to a man actually making an arrest rather than a beatdown or extortion. The people in the ring of betters, however, simply finished up their last transactions from the fight before placing new ones on the battle to come. So far, it appeared that the odds were tilted in the fresh fighter's favor: Though a good portion from the last round bet on the Vrock this time, hoping to regain their losses.
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At least you're polite about it.

Willhelm smiled at the young man, "Rings of Ringing and Bishop Bells!" He said, producing a long wooden tube full of rings and a large gray cow bell. "Quite handy for luring away the Sadian Worm, quite horrible things, those." He remarked, giving the bell an experimental ring. The ensuing sound was somewhere between the volume of a gong ringing and the pitch of that bell. The noise returned soon enough, the merchant smiling as he set it back down on the floating pelt.

"So, Arnold sent you in for work, did he? I don't suppose you understand how to disarm a Chi Spore Mine, do you? Or the exact workings of a Scythean Harvester?" He asked, "Or are you of the more arcane variety? Because Kereveld hasn't been in the last day or two...I'm worried he might have gone out drinking again."

[Gorgondantess]

Hawk crouches on the roof, watching the altercation for a second, then crawls across it to behind the men, leaps down then taps them on the shoulder. "Excuse me, but I'm not finished with him yet."

[aje8]

Morrel:

To Hecktar:
"Actually, I was thinking the same thing!"

To the thin salesman guy:
"With all the strange and interesting things your shop deals with, I'd be VERY interested in working here. This shop seems EXTREMLEY interesting. So much so that I wouldn't be bored. I'm a dabbler of sorts and can do almost anything quite well. Additionally, I'm a quick learner in addition to being knowledgeable in a variety of subjects, though said subjects seem notably irrelevant to your exotic wares." All of that is completley true.