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Scales of War: DnD 4e PBF

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Gargulec:
Meanwhile, Karan folded the sleeve of her drab shirt, revealing that her entire upper arm was wrapped in soiled bandage. Curiously, it was not stained with dark red, in the colour of gore, but black.

Slowly, hissing in pain, she started to remove the cloth, exposing half-knit, long slashing wound. To your disgust, you noticed that blood that slowly seeped from it had colour of stains on the bandage- black. Another oddity.

She washed out the wound, and pulling a fresh bandage from her sack, begun to wrap the arm again. Afterwards, she put both her sack and her weapon to the ground, and turned towards you.

For the first time in several hours, she spoke.

'So, what brings you to that journey, apart from the monetary gain?'

Tavana:
The Antler and Thistle's Common Room is a modest affair. Bar at one side, tables on the other is pretty good money making scheme as far as they go. The patron's don't glance at you too much until your backs are turn, being too polite to stare. The bartender is a robust man with years of experience polishing the few glasses he has behind the counter for regulars who won't break them. His eyes widen slightly when you enter, though if could simply be just at the number of his customers nearly doubling all at once. After getting a good look at your band, though, he decides to remain behind the bar. Perhaps it's a safer place to be with such folks around. He bangs around behind the counter quite noisily to attract the attention of the serving girl, but she doesn't appear as of yet.

The table you seat yourselves at in the front corner is well away from any other customers, and any who turn their heads when money is mentioned quickly turn away after seeing such an open wound. Clearly these people are not used to seeing violence.

S.K. Ren:
After seating himself, Adis turns to Karan with interest. "I myself am just following voices in my head...," he paused, noticing the wry looks from his companions, with the exception Graven. You just couldn't tell what he was thinking from his face alone. "Believe me, it is not as weird as it seems," he continued, " but I am more interested in that wound of yours, what gave it to you?" Adis' face was filled with fascination more than concern.

Malek Deneith:
- "There is something starting out there." - there was that shift in voice again, as Graven replied Karan's question - "Something important. We- I don't know what it is but I feel I need to be there when it happens..."

Madtrixr:
"It wouldn't happen to be me, would it?" Norian walked into the inn, after a period of fresh air outside. With his smile that everyone was familiar with(Because he usually had it on, no matter the circumstance), he strode over to his seat and sat down.

Norian may be a priest of Pelor, but looking at him, you wouldn't know it. Brown hair slightly below his shoulders, medium build, about 6 feet tall. Pender, Norian's father, said about him, that "My son is more than a match for any militiaman." Yet he chose the way of the gods. Why? Only Norian knows, and so far, he's told no one.

"Oh? Why have I agreed to this journey? Well...I've never told anyone, but for some reason, I feel I can trust you all. Perhaps this is a sign from The Sun himself..."

Norian cleared his throat a bit.

"Anyways, I joined the priesthood, and went on this journey for a very simple reason: I want to be a part of history. I want to leave something that affects the whole world in my wake. I think it is a common goal, yet it drives me greatly."

"So, what's the plan for tommorrow? Anyone?"

---
And there we go. I have made my appearence, and now we can get this ball rolling.

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