1. - Top - End - #21
    Titan in the Playground
    Join Date
    Apr 2011

    Default Re: (PF) maggie's Rise of the Runelords: Skinsaw Murders IC

    Brin

    "That's an odd question to ask someone you just met." Brin replies to Sirus as she leads the group on the short walk back to the Dragon. "Especially after I helped calm that little situation back there. Or at least tried to help, until that Jubyal character showed up and chased the grocer off. Now he's an anarchist, from the rumors I've heard. Jubyal, that is. I think the grocer is just a foolish blowhard."

    But the man seemed to have asked the question in seriousness, and there was little else to do as they strolled, so she offers up a more considered response. "No, I'm not an anarchist, really. I'm a Pharasmin. See?" She flashes the indigo spiral tattooed on the left palm, the common symbol for Pharasma, and affects an air of detached superiority not uncommon among more formal clergy. "Let's just say that I've got weightier matters on my mind than, say, paying my bar tab on time. You know, death, and fate, and all that. I figure that as long as you hit the important things, the minor details don't amount to much in Goddess's final judgement."

    Why, are you an authoritarian? She throws the man a mock suspicious glare as she walks in the door of the tavern.

    *******

    Once inside, Brin is content to let the 'minor detail' of her bill slide for as long as the proprietor fails to mention it, particularly with all these free drinks to work through. Who knows, maybe she'll get lucky and someone will offer to cover it for her. Particularly since these people she's met seem to have the run of the place.

    "So you've asked one probing question, now it's my turn. Who are you people to get this kind of spread out of Ameiko? Even without the ham, this is a table fit for a Margrave, or possibly even a lesser Duke, and I'm pretty certain that I didn't see any of you order." She asks as the serving staff makes room for the ham.

    Now it's your turn to talk. I'll eat she thinks, reaching for the platter of rum ham. Fate dropped this fine supper into my hands. It would be downright blasphemous not to enjoy it thoroughly. She digs in with gusto, blissfully ignorant that she's dining with the heroes she's been hearing about since blowing into town the morning before.
    Last edited by Bhaakon; 2013-12-25 at 03:09 AM.