Post by Toad-Killer-Dog on Jan 19, 2010 14:20:05 GMT -5
Bernard & Con will work fine for me good sir!
"For a look or a word, scarce thought or heard, I follow a fading fire. "Past bead and bell and the hangman's cell, like a harp-call of desire. "I may not see the road I ride for the witch-fire lamps that gleam; "But phantoms glide at my bridle-side, and I follow a nameless Dream." R.E. Howard
Name:Grego Fishwater Race:Stinking Hobbit Height & Weight: 2'10" & 80 Sex: Male or not as often as he wished. Class:Rogue Languages: common,Hob Attributes: STR-DEX-LK-IQ-WIZ-CHA -CON-SPD 5 20 15 9 12 14 18 8 Wealth: 39G.P. Supplies: Clothe& Pack, 10 torches,2 days rations Weapons: scaling knife,jury rigged sling,a complement of 100 stones,a steel cap Weight carried:260 Weight possible:800 Biography: Greggo,the stinking Hobbit,as you might have guessed by his reek, worked as a gutter and scaler at Murcison's Famous Fish Mart until the unfortunate death of the miserly Mr. Murchison, the plundering of his cash box and the infamous "Fish Oil Fire" that ciderized the entire Wharf district as well as several schooners and a royal Trireme. Grego was last seen,for, yes, he is still being sought-fleeing inland as fast as his stumpy legs could carry him with pockets ajingling and his scale speckled shirt twinkling in the firelight. ******************************************************************** Name:Burdain Strawton akaThe Mule Race:Human Height & Weight: 5'9" & 180 Sex: Male Class:Fighter, warrior would be an overstatement Languages: common (perhaps,if he ever uttered a word) Attributes: STR-DEX-LK-IQ-WIZ-CHA -CON-SPD 16 10 10 6 8 7 13 10 Wealth:0(The remains of his wealth were lost to his good friend Grego,a dab hand at cards or dice) Supplies: Clothe& Pack, 1 day's rations,Chicken Weapons: Leather Armor, Target Shield,Broad Sword Weight carried:650 Weight possible:1800 Biography: A fitting companion for Grego,the equally unlovable Burdain lacks his companion's ever present cheery smile as well as the noxious smell of week old fish that seeps from Grego's pores.Burdain smells of the offal of the stable where until recently he had served as a stable boy . Burdain, one of those unfortunate orphans devoid of family,friends,voice, personality and gifted merely with an irascible nature and two bony fists that knuckled large at the end of two long muscular arms, was not well loved and after thumping a broad thewed teamster, the hostler himself and three of his fellow hands over a practical joke , gone awry had soaked poor Burdain with-well- never you mind ! The upshot was that,jobless, hungry and with few skills, he enlisted in the Civil Guard for three square and a pai rof shoes. But here too his lack of discipline and a certain touchiness over being ordered about led to a bit of serious unpleasantness involving his superior officer that gave him cause to flee the hangman .Thus it came about that while hidden away in an isolated cave in the hills he came to make the acquaintance of the one time fish gutter turned man killer. Let me add that the friendship would probably have never blossomed as it has, if it were not for the chicken.On one of the pair's midnight foraging expeditions,the kindly Hob bagged a hen and a peep, after wringing the neck and roasting the latter,in an act of kindness heretofore inexperienced by the tameless Burdain, Grego presented him with the fuzzy little yellow fellow.Moved almost to tears Burdain swore to, in incomprehensible sign language and eerie squeaks, his eternal fealty to the generous Hob. Now the three adventurers, like Dumas' Musketeers roam the wide world seeking food and plunder.Unfortunately times have been hard and as their waists have narrowed the chicken has begun to eye the Hob, hungrily.