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Post by yourcomputer on Jun 8, 2014 2:36:47 GMT
getting bored holding up the orcs he puts his gun away and look for an interesting group where upon he spots a cat elf and human chatting and recognizing the elf as the women who cheated in the card game he walk up to her and says "ye know ye really should cheat, can lead to all kind of trouble, an' maybe next time ye won't be able ta sneak away." as he turns to the others "so whatca meat bags talkn' 'bout? im' curious."
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Post by DerpWolf on Jun 8, 2014 2:47:11 GMT
Tehrane looked down her muzzle at the elf. Of all the annoying things that could have dropped into her personal space, and elf she'd wanted the least. Humans she could deal with, most of them were okay outside of the capitol. She sneered at her, regardless of her poor state. "Too tall and gangly for the average elf, eh? What'd you do to get them to throw you out? Probably nothing. Damn elves." Whitewhisker downed the rest of her glass and ordered some whiskey instead of a refill. It peeved her that the first thing the stupid elf brought up was her eye. "At least I earned my eye."
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Post by brownbear96 on Jun 8, 2014 3:10:14 GMT
Ichabod chuckled at the elf's observation of his scar. He's unsure of whether or not he'd be angry in a sober state, but his current tipsy one decided to give what he thought was a witty retort, that was until he heard the cat's venomous retort. Ichabod thought better of getting involved, he didn't know anything about racial relations, especially if they involved one of the beastlier ones. He began organizing his vials and other assorted belongings, but couldn't help but make one comment on the cat lady before he stood. "Hmph, more of a tiger than a kitten, I see." It was meant to be muttered under his breath, but it came out much louder than he intended, worst of all, he didn't even notice.
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Post by Pyromaniac on Jun 8, 2014 3:16:28 GMT
"I'm too tall," Lylandra agreed. "My skin is not fair enough, and my hair is the wrong colour. No one would tell it to my face, just whisper about it behind my back when they thought I couldn't hear." She took a bite of her food, scowling at the taste, before swallowing and continuing to eat.
She glanced to the side at the undead and her scowl only deepened.
"I'm not the one who cheated," She informed the undead drakr. "And even if I had, I'm not in the habit of taking advice from skellies."
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Post by yourcomputer on Jun 8, 2014 3:19:05 GMT
"heheheHAHAHA, ok sure thing meatbag, ye makn' a fashion of wearing cards" draykur laughs
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Post by DerpWolf on Jun 8, 2014 3:39:35 GMT
"All signs point to ugly elf." Tehrane smirked, then gulped down the rest of the meat on her plate, hardly chewing it. The tender flesh gushed delicious juices, soaking her tongue in the most savoury taste. It was nearly enough to distract her from the fact that human had called her a kitten. A kitten! Narrowing her eye, she brought her hand up, channeling the power of her mana... and snapped her fingers. The first, most obvious thing that happened was that the human's shirt caught fire, sending up black smoke almost immediately.
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Post by brownbear96 on Jun 8, 2014 3:51:08 GMT
"Oh bollocks!" Ichabod had to focus to make sure he didn't burn to death before he had a chance to pay this cat back! Firstly, he had to find a liquid that wasn't alchohol, but where would he- of course! He carried a whole pack of those! Ichabod reached into his pack, and pulled out the first flask large enough to put out all of the fire. Uncorking it, he splashed the liquid onto his shirt, and to his great relief it did put out the fire, what was in the flask anyway?... The flask was labeled "Snake venom" At this, Ichabod's hand began to shake with rage. Snake venom! He got that by milking snakes, does she have any idea how difficult those are to 'milk'!?
Ichabod took a deep breath, and his hand stopped trembling. "You know..." Ichabod's voice sounded oddly calm for someone who was set on fire. "It's awfully rude of you to throw fire at an obvious burn victim." Ichabod began walking towards miss fire cat, empty flask of venom still in his hand. "That would be like if I were to poke out your good eye." Ichabod took the nearest full mug of liquor, and emptied the contents onto the fiery cat lady. "Now, try playing with fire again, and see if you don't go up in flames yourself."
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Post by Pyromaniac on Jun 8, 2014 4:06:29 GMT
"An ugly meatbag according to popular opinion." She muttered finishing the last of her food. "Who also cheats at cards and is so honorless even her own people cast her out. I see... I see."
She turned, planted one hand on the Drakr's chest, and the other on the Lunarin's. She focused her thoughts for a moment, calling to mind the image of club. With a flash of magic, the Drakr's armoured chest piece suddenly turned into the club. It was crude and poorly made, but she'd favored speed over any kind of actual finesse. The Lunarin required a bit more time, which the human provided with a distraction of sorts. A second flash of light and the splint mail suddenly cinched tighter around the lunarin. Not so tight as to be painful, but tight enough to cause her discomfort... and most assuredly tight enough that getting out of it would be... challenging.
"Oops." She said disingenuously, dropping the mace on the floor. "I suppose I should be more careful... or perhaps you should add clumsy to the list."
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Post by yourcomputer on Jun 8, 2014 4:12:52 GMT
"hehehe seems ye got me here i can't really fight without me chest plate well anyways ill have ta get a new one unless ye wish ta change it back" he awkwardly says while covering his chest cavity "well thats enough fun fo me" he says as he finds a stool to sit at while moving the sack away from the fire mage in hopes to not get lite.
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Post by DerpWolf on Jun 8, 2014 4:19:16 GMT
Before Whitewhisker had a chance to properly showcase her skills, she felt a sudden, crushing tightness about her chest and legs. Looking down at her splitmail, she realized that it seemed... tighter than it should be. Smaller. Looking back at the elf, she resolved to make her pay for a new set, or change it back later. First she had to show this uppity burn victim who could really play with fire. "Human, you should know better than to provoke a battlemage. Really." Holding her hands about six inches apart, she blinked her single eye slowly. Though she could whip up a firestorm from hell without as much concentration, doing proper, dazzling, less dangerous displays took effort. A small ball of fire blazed between her hands. It ached to light up the alcohol on her fur, but her concentration kept it reined firmly in place. Slowly, it changed colour to a brilliant blue. A simple trick. Driven by her concentration, it contorted and burst forward, taking on the form of a dragon, eyes alight with red flame. That twisted and shifted into a sword, then burst into a lattice, similar to fine spiderweb. Her will lowered it, curving it towards the alchemist. It then dissolved, little flickering flames persisting for a moment before fading.
The Lunarin blinked again. "Fire is my specialty. And even if you took my other eye I could still sniff you out."
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Post by yourcomputer on Jun 8, 2014 4:25:35 GMT
"hearing the cat talk abouting about a fire storm he says to her "tha fire may not be ta best ideal, i got enough gunpowder to blow up the entire tavern, if ye wish talight him up ye may wish ta do that away from me, that ain't a threat just a fact" as he gives a light kick to his sack filled with his belongings "oh and if ye know where ta buy a new chest plate i'd much appreciate that." he adds
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Post by brownbear96 on Jun 8, 2014 4:31:13 GMT
Ichabod could only stare at the apparent master pyromancer, as her display left him without a retort, witty or otherwise. He was prepared to simply throw what was left of his venom flask at her, until he noticed what happened to her armour. So far out of all the people who he'd seen in this bar, he was enjoying the elf the most. He saw that her armour now more resembled something a role playing prostitute would wear. At this he erupted into a bout of raspy laughter at the now almost indecent cat woman. "Apologies, but... did you pick up that armor at the local brothel!?" He continued laughing, but rested his left hand on the dagger on his hip, and kept the near empty flask of venom with a tight grip in his other hand, just in case she was still in a scrapping mood.
Ichabod never fights an enemy head on.
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Post by DerpWolf on Jun 8, 2014 4:38:45 GMT
Tehrane quirked an eyebrow at the alchemist. What a rude human. "Well you would wish that, wouldn't you? Dying to get your hands on some Lunarin fur in the worst way possible, hmmm....?" She drawled it out. The uncomfortably tight armour made her want to punch someone. Before she could deal with that impudent elf, she had to show this alchemist why not to make fun of a soldier. She reached out towards him, tail flicking back and forth. "Just want to tangle your fingers through the softest fur in the Ten Lands?" With a sharp gesture, she swept him into the air using her air magic. Then, she promptly hung him upside-down.
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Post by brownbear96 on Jun 8, 2014 4:49:43 GMT
Taken of guard, Ichabod dropped his flask. "No! Those are hard to find!" after he got over his broken flask, he registered two things, 1) He was upside down. 2) What the cat thing had said to him. It was all he could do to keep up with his verbal retorts, because dirty or otherwise, he wasn't even about to get a chance in a fight. "I'm not sure what to vomit from, the vertigo, or that you would even suggest-" As he was about to finish his taunt, a crashing sound interrupted him. He looked to see that his pack was left open, and his precious potions were falling out.
"What!? No, NO! Put me down this instant you brute! My work!" He tried desperately to grasp for his falling reagents and potions, and managed to catch one in each hand, but the rest crashed to the floor, and started forming a rather corrosive puddle on the floor of the tavern. "NO NOT MY WORK, LET ME GO!" A hint of a whimper could be heard in that last plea, as he tried desperately to grasp at the puddle, to recover something. He seemed to have lost all interest in contesting with the cat.
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Post by DerpWolf on Jun 8, 2014 4:58:32 GMT
The battlemage giggled. "Mess with the cat and you get the claws." Though she could have dumped him unceremoniously on the floor, on top of all the broken glass, she felt it would add injury to insult. Twisting him back upright, she moved him out from over the puddle and gently placed him on the ground. "You should be more polite to strangers." Taking a sip out of her glass of whiskey (that she still needed to finish) she took her seat again. Then, she turned to the Undead. "I wouldn't set any place on fire unless I really meant to. I find that mildly insulting."
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