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[Flying Dice]

OOC Thread

You find yourself loitering around outside a shack – a well-made, homely shack, but a shack nonetheless – in the company of six others of various races and dispositions (eight, if you count the mules). The shack is situated in the shade of a small grove, surrounded on all sides by heavily cultivated fields. The mild spring sunlight filters down through the thickly woven canopy, casting a dappled pattern across the small packed-earth assembly area.

To the south-east you can make out the rooftops of Silver Falls in the distance, along with the glimmering waters of the Lake. The perilous snow-capped peaks of the End tower above you from horizon to horizon, ancient teeth biting at the eastern sky. You have responded to a routine Leafguard call for temporary work, and are essentially citizens-mercenary tasked with basic investigation and upkeep of Vale security – though why it’s taking so long for an officer to see to you is beyond your ken, at least for the moment.

((AKA get to know each other IC.))

[PrivateNomad]

A huge and burly half-orc is standing by the shack. He is clad in a lot of armor and wears a horned helmet which conceals most of his face.
He reaches down and scratches at his behind.

[Remuthra]

A mangy green-haired troll lumbers out of the fields, questing about as if sniffing for valuables. Its malevolent green eyes settle upon the shack and it moves to investigate it. Interestingly, the troll appears to be clad in what looks like the remnants of several torn leather jerkins stapled together, and carries an assortment of weapons strapped to belt loops in the armor, including a large branch which has been fitted with an old bowstring, a quiver of pointy sticks, an old mining pick bearing the faded words, "Property o' Urist Stonefist" and what appears to be a small plow with one of the handles broken off. The troll approaches the waiting orc and looks at him curiously.

[PrivateNomad]

The orc looks down at the troll, blinking with indifferent black eyes.
  "...Hi friend. My name Tradok, what yous?"

[Remuthra]

The giant looks at you oddly.

"Raghabaghagh! Krag!"

He thumps his chest triumphantly.

[PrivateNomad]

 "Heh. Hehe, Krag! Good to meet Krag!"

[Remuthra]

Krag nods, then rubs his hands together and looks at Tradok questioningly.

[PrivateNomad]

Tradok extends his hand towards Krag. Presumably to shake.

[Tawa]

An elderly, red-robed elf, in highly stereotyical mystic garb, rests in the shade of his mule-drawn cart. He takes a glass terrarium out of the back, alertly stares at the toad within, and sets it beside him.

He gets bored waiting and conjures a pipe from nowhere and lights it. (Prestidigitation: perfect spell for random roleplaying effects. Hee hee hee.)

He eyes the brutish types around him with curiousity. Never partial to the way of the sword, he had always preferred the convenience and power of magic. He figured he'd break the ice.

"I am Ruvitsuvi. I am the Red Sage, a master of magic."

"So, fellows," he says to the others, "what brings you to these lands?" He himself had been taking his wizard-cart through the area when a few passerby informed him of the call. He had decided he'd better avoid handing out too much bullcrap advice for money before he got a bad reputation.

[Remuthra]

Krag shakes hands eagerly with Tradok, then draws his pick and turns to the wizard.

Gargaragh!

He brandishes it in the air, then clasps it to his chest and strokes it lovingly.

[PrivateNomad]

 "Magic smagic, it all boils down to how tough you is!

Tradok come to face mighty foes and prove self in battle!"

[Remuthra]

Krag snarls in agreement.

[UltraValican]

Slork sighed, a goddamn elf. He had to work with a goddamn elf. Well, at least this one was old, maybe he'll conveniently throw his back out during work...
He glanced over at the two savages. What need do they have for money? They live off the land, the troll's bow was a godsforsaken tree-branch.

"Do you want me to start from the begining? Well you see when daddy orc loves mommy human very much...
The fat half-orc bursts into a small fit of laughter before he could finish his crude joke.
"I'm just here to make some cash is all,then I drift off somewhere else and make more money."

[PrivateNomad]

Tradok looks at Slork.
 "Hi. What you name?"

[Tawa]

Ruvitsuvi gives a kind, elderly laugh. "Ho ho, I remember when I was your age. Pleased to meet you." (Ruvitsuvi deliberately avoids mentioning that he was a child when he was their age.)

As he often does when meeting others, Ruvitsuvi uses Prestidigitation to tip his hat.

He looks scornfully at Slork. The fellow had the social adeptness of an octopus.

"Very funny, sir. If I might ask, what would be your name?"