Deverick moved from the smithy hastily, pausing only for his armor and sword. His fist was sore but no more than his brother's jaw. The streets outside were bustling and it seemed business was as usual for The Free City of Greyhawk. Deverick now had to make a choice... mayhaps the hardest choice he had ever made. What was he to do now. Stay in Greyhawk or leave? if he stayed, there were still choices... the Old City? His meager coin would last longer there but that quarter was nigh overrun with thieves. The River Quarter? That was a good choice... though more expensive there was a place where foreigners congregated. That's where those traveling to and from Greyhawk would be found. That seemed a likely place to find like-minded fellows seeking adventure.

Should he sell his sword to a rich merchant... guildsman?

Should he join some mercenary band to fight against the orcs of The Pomarj... The ruffians of The Bandit Kingdoms... or mayhaps the vile minions of the Horned Society itself?

Should he work as an enforcer for the Thieve's Guild? Or mayhaps join the Watch? Surely either of these groups were in need of a strong arm and sharp sword.

Mayhaps join a band of adventurers seeking fame and gold in the barrows north of the city itself?

So many decisions yet he had time. There was still some gold left in the pouch at his belt. Mayhaps just let the fates or gods decide for him. For now a cup of good nut-brown ale would suffice. That and a cool tap room to enjoy it in. It was nearly Highsun and warm for the month of Coldeven. Yes... he could start with that!

Dev made it to the Black Gate where The Old City was separated from the New City beyond. The wall as well as the gate was black... from centuries of smoke and ash from the countless cook fires, chimneys, magician's braziers, and torches from the slum and it's poor. The contingent of the Watch saw the big man coming and shifted their bored countenances to bear toward Deverick and now exhibiting gtreat interest.

"Hold!" cried the lead Watchman, a lean youth of about sixteen or seventeen winters, with more bravado than his young face showed.

"State yer business n' the reason ye wish ta pass inta the New City! N' while yer at it... best be show'n me the sword license for that big piece o' steel on yer back."

Dev knew the drill. Greyhawk made coin in any manner it may. It's dwarven Tax Collector, one Glodreddi Bakkanin, had decided that if adventurers were to carry their steel about like they owned the city, that the city should make an orb or three for their effort!

The young Watchman swallowed hard. Dev made two... maybe three of him. And though four of his fellows waited in the shadows of the gate and tunnel beyond, the young man had no doubts that he would be dead before they could aid him if the big bald warrior decided not to play it their way.

"Ye... ah... ye kin apply fer the licence right 'ere if ye don't 'ave one." he said with a shaky voice. "But ye'll 'ave ta get it afore ye pass through."

Dev looked down at his ever shrinking belt pouch and sighed. Greyhawk! The Gem of the Flannes! Insult to injury this day was heading. Dam that dwarf and the Lord Mayor besides! Welcome to the world o' adventure Deverick! Shite!

   The Large man called Deverick decided that a tankard of cool ale, and a pretty wench for his lap, was just the thing to improve his soured mood. His recent farewell of family was less the worthy of a balled. His right hand still stung from the blow to his elder brother’s jaw. He bore a few bruises himself, where his brother had landed a couple of well-aimed blows.

  Deverick wore wool trousers, a linen shirt with a gambeson over it. He carried all his worldly possessions in a backpack and a bundle, that was chainmail rolled with a leather carrying straps in one hand. A Great Sword rode his back, with a Gladius and Sax in scabbards upon his belt. Hard boots made clopping noises as he strode the cobblestone street toward the so-called Black Gate.

  As the warrior approached the gate, he spotted the Watchmen there, as they looked the pedestrians over, speaking to one from time to time. He offered a silent prayer to Tritherion that he could get past them without a word. But it seemed the God was not listening this day, for as Dev drew close, one of the Watchmen addressed him about a license. “Well met, Watchman. What are ye talking about? What be this about a license?” Asked the Warrior.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:02, Wed 18 May 2016.

The young Watchman swallowed hard once more and his mouth began to tremble a bit but before he could speak another voice rang out from the tunnel beyond the Black Gate itself.

"That'll be all Betram! I'll handle this." said a older Watchman coming into view.

He stood nearly six feet and was brawny besides. Though not a match for Deverick, he was built like a warrior who had swung steel for some time.

"Yer Deverick aren't ye?" he said as he stood before Deverick. The adventurer could see by his uniform that he was a Sgt-at-Arms. His steel grey eyes squinted as he looked the big warrior up and down. Somehow Deverick thought he knew him as well... but from where?

"You're Borcar's boy... right?" The elder Watchman said then nodded his head. "Aye! I know ye I do. Well now! Wot's ah smith do'n carrying steel the likes o' that about anyways? Eh?"

The older Watchman then gave Deverick a sly wink just out of eye-shot of the others.

"This 'ere be Deverick, son o' Brocar the smith. Jus down the road. Must be delever'n this armor n' steel ta some high n' mighty in the High Quarter I'm think'n. Ain't that so lad?" he said. A slow smile spreading along his lips that made his bushy mustache quiver a bit.

"Oh! me name be Rilton. Sgt-at-arms Rilton. I be in charge o' the Black Gate, till dusk that is. Cause if'n you ain't deliver'n that steel then everyone knows there be ah sword tax n' one must 'ave ah licence ta carry ah fine blade the likes o' that. Ten orbs fer ah longsword... but that thing will cost ye twenty orbs. That is if ye were carry'n it as ah adventurer n' nay ah smith."
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:24, Wed 18 May 2016.

   It seemed that while he had been serving his city, in the Militia, the powers that be, in Greyhawk, found yet another way to take coin out of an honest man’s purse. Dev was about to protest this nonsense, when a voice of authority boomed out. It seemed the man in charge of these Watchmen had decided to take a hand in the matter.

 Dev was about to offer protest, but before he could get out a word, the Sergeant seemed to indicate he knew him. Or more as like, his late father was known and he as his son. But be that as it may, the other man offered Dev a way out of an embarrassing situation, for he only had seventeen gold pieces to his name. After Deverick talked the Militia into allowing him to purchase armor and weapons from them, and other equipment, what he had left was nothing to retire upon.

 “Oh, aye, indeed, good Sergeant, I be taking this steel into the High Quarter seeking to sell it. That be the Gods own truth. Or may Tritherion send boils on me arse, if I speak false.” It was the truth, more or less.

Sgt-at-Arms Rilton gave Deverick another quick wink and a curt nod.

"See! Jus as I'd thought. Well then lad we can't keep the high n' mighty wait'n now can we? Best be on yer way then."

Yet, before the big warrior could move on the elder sergeant held up a gauntlet- covered hand.

"Best be tak'n this bit o' paper wi' ye lad. Tis ah pass it is. It'll get ye through the city wi' yer wares for ah few days... say till Godsday I'm think'n. Aye! Three days hence."

Riton's smile was some what wider now and as genuine as an Orb minted by Greyhawk itself!

"If ye present it ta the officer in charge at the Grand Citadel... well now ye might jus get hired on ta the Watch. We could use ah blade like ye we could. Show 'em that there paper n' tell 'em that Sgt-at-Arms Rilton sent ya. Be tell'n yer Dad I said hullo. He mended me sword once n' would nay take ah copper Common fer it. Ah gud man yer Dad."

 Deverick took on a sudden serious expression. In a soft tone of voice, so only Sgt, Rikton could hear his words.”Ye honor my Da, with your kind words,Sir. But I am sad to say, the Gods called him to them, a few days ago. He had been ill for some time.”  Dev looked away briefly, and then returned his attention to the Sgt.

 The massive Warrior regarded the pass given to him, with a deep frown which passed for a look of concentration for Dev. While the Warrior could read and write, he was not the best in either subject. He slowly nodded. “Thank ye, kindly, Sergeant, for the pass. I am not sure what I be about, as of yet. But I shall give your suggestion about the Watch some thought. I will be about me affairs, if that be all?” Said Dev in a friendly tone of voice.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:45, Wed 18 May 2016.

The elder Sergeant's smile retreated a bit at Deverick's sad news. He then gave him a curt nod.

"Twas ah gud man lad. Nay! Yer free ta go n' think 'bout the offer. The pay be less than crawl'n ahround sum ruin but it be steady. Be on yer way afore the day wastes!"

The Sgt-at-Arms waved the big warrior through the gate and the dark tunnel beyond. As Deverick shouldered his burden and moved on, his eyes adjusted to the dimness of the place. The Tunnel ran about 100 paces and torches were set in scones about every twenty paces or so. The torches sputtered and dark smoke from the pitch further stained the walls and ceiling of the place. Though their meager light was welcome, there was still enough shadows to go around. Deverick knew the city to be cheap enough not to light this place with magic. No doubt The Mage Guild's price was too high, at least for this place and the lower quarters. For in the High and Garden Quarters graceful glass globes were alight with spells that the apprentices must renew each day.

The tunnel itself was wide enough to take three wagons abreast. Here and there were stout oaken doors, strengthened by thick bands of iron and peppered with iron studs. Deverick's military service taught him that beyond these lied the rooms and stairways where the Watch and their fellows, The Guard, could sally out and flank would be foes. The warrior's eyes peered upward and were rewarded to find the murder holes where bolts, arrows, pitch, and boiled oil could rain down on anyone unfortunate to be caught there.

Whether by conscious or unconscious thought, Deverick sped up. His great strides ate up the distance betwixt the entrance and exit. The glow of the midday sun, and even it's heat, was welcome upon reaching the other side.

Even as Deverick wiped his yes and squinted as they adjusted to Sol's brightness, he heard a high child-like voice call out!

"Alms for the poor!" a small gaunt boy shouted! He stood just outside the exit with wooden bowl in hand.

His tunic was threadbare and patched many times over. Not only it, but the boys bare limbs, feet, and face were smudged with grime and dirt. The boy's hair was close cropped and his bright blue eyes held a keen glint of intellect.

"Ah copper Common gud knight! Jus one please!" the boy said with a hopeful smile. It was then that Deverick noted the wooden hand that hung upon a mere length of rope around his neck. The Beggar's Union!

These young gutter rats could be found all up and down the Processional and in The Petit Bazaar itself. No doubt they brought not only coin but many a rumor back to their master. As did their older and sometimes even more pathetic brethren who went so far as to perform self mutilation to gain their money.

  Having won free of the Sergeant and his fellow Watchmen, Deverick make his way through the stygian abyss that was the tunnel to the next city quarter. He really needed a drink about now. A few ales in a cool tap room, and a pretty wench’s smile, would do wonders for his morale.

  When the Warrior came back into the most welcome light of day, he started to think about his destination. The Mercenary Guild might be a good place to seek work, or he might start checking the public posting boards at the Market and some of the Taverns. But these thoughts where detoured by the sound of a child’s voice begging alms. Dev almost walked past the lad, but one of his blind spots was children. When he was in the Militia, he always gave some of his rations to poor children, or saved a few sweets to pass out on patrol.

 Deverick looked at the child Beggar and smiled down to him. “Nice pitch, Lad, but I be no high and snobby Knight. Nay, I be jus a Warrior seeking to earn his bread. If he want ta earn a Noble, ye can guide me to the Mercenary Guild” The big man reached into his purse and removed a silver noble and held it for the lads inspection.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:07, Thu 19 May 2016.

The beggar's eyes grew wide as saucers!

"Pholtus' bright balls!" he swore! "Ya may not be ah knight but yer heart be true enough ta me. For ah Noble I'd owe you sir... I mean gud warrior. Mayhaps there be some such I can do for ya? I know me way around I do. I could be yer guide to that place I could."

He took a hesitant step forward "My name is Talbot... but me friends call me Tal. Aye! I know the place."

  The Large man offered the lad a massive hand to shake. “Well met. Tad. I be Deverick, but most call me Dev. If ye lead me to the Guild, the Noble be yours.  My purse be as light as a drunkard’s stomach, after an all-night bout o drinking, but it be worth it. Ye won’t disappoint me now, will ya Lad” Said Dev as he smiled to the begger.

The urchin's hand literally disappeared in Dev's massive paw! Seeing this nearly magic trick made the young lad's eyes nearly bulge further. He shook his head wildly side to side at the big warrior's query.

"Nay! I... I... I mean I will not lead ya astray! I promise. It's not far Master Dev. Just up the Processional in fact. Where it connects to Horseshoe Road."

The beggar started forward but then stopped "The name is Tal Master Dev!"

With a wink Tal started out once again, calling over his shoulder "We'll have ta get through the Bazaar afore we make it though so you'd best hide that there purse least ya lose it. The Thieves Guild's best work the Small Bazaar and you'll be jostled ah bit so you'll never know."

As Deverick did his best to follow young Tal, he was soon immersed into the flowing throng of sights, sounds, and smells that was the Petit Bazaar! Perhaps the busiest market in all of Greyhawk, it was located at the crossroads of the Old City and the New City, just a stone's throw from the Black Gate. Goods from all over the city and the world could be found here. Silks being sold by a Merchant Prince from Ekbir rubbed shoulders with urchins from the Slum Quarter selling dubious sausages upon a stick. Jugglers and minstrels competed for coin with pickpockets from the passer-by. Many merchants pleaded and shouted for Dev's coin as he moved through. Everything from simple trinkets to dragon's eggs were to be had for the right price. For here no price was set in stone. In fact, the merchants appeared disappointed if the buyer did not haggle!

As Tal had fortold, Dev was jostled, bumped, and nearly tripped. Only his great size allowed him to cut a path through the crowded bazaar and keep up with the beggar who seemingly dodged all comers.

Once out of the bazaar, the Processional though crowded, seemed easier to transverse. Great shops and Guildhalls lined the wide street that ran from one end of the city to the other. Tal soon pointed ahead to a squat low building that looked more like a fort or keep that Dev was use to seeing while in service. It didn't look like any of the other buildings thus far. The big warrior could barely make out the shingle that held two cross sword and axe behind a golden shield upon it.

"There it be! Just like I said Master Dev!" the beggar was nearly beaming! His bright eyes never leaving the silver coin,
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:04, Thu 19 May 2016.

 When the Mercenary Guild was within sight, Deverick reached into his purse and remove three copper pieces and offered them to the Lad named Tal. “Don’t go gittin all vexed, Lad. These be fer your uppers in the Beggar Guild. This be a believable reward for yer service to me" The Silver Noble was with the coppers.

 Deverick then spoke in a hushed tone. “Tal, the Noble be fer you, not the bloody Guild. Get some decent food in yer gullet, and stow the rest fer another day.

” Deverick then stood up and gently shoved the boy away. “ Ye have yer coin Beggar, now get ye gone, afore I plant me boot into yer arse!” said in a loud voice, for the benefit of anyone watching them. But there was just the hint of a smile on the Warrior's lips, before he turned and headed off towards the Guild.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:04, Thu 19 May 2016.

Deverick saw a wave of different emotions wash over the young beggar's face. From shock to anger... from recognition to relief...

Tal then winked and a scowl slowly formed over his child-like features.

"Should've known! A pox on ya and all who know you!" he shouted for all to hear! Though the big warrior noted Tal's hands moved quickly and deftly to scoop up the coins, silver and copper, and then neatly hide them upon his person. Where? Deverick thought it better not to dwell upon the later.

Tal then turned on his heels and disappeared into the growing throng making their way up and down the wide Processional.

The big warrior then focused upon his destination, the Mercenary Guild. His hard high boots clomped up the three wide steps leading to the strong oaken door that would resist all comers save an ogre or a host with a battering-ram. Even with his powerful frame, Deverick had to push and push hard to enter. As the door swung open with an ever loud- CREAK!

A short and narrow foyer made of the same thick grey stones opened up into a wide open hall. Three men with long spears and determination could hold off two score of invaders trying to enter this place. In the distance Deverick could hear the low hum of men talking with an occasional louder oath or outburst of laughter. Before him, the warrior could see a small thick figure of a dwarf sitting behind a stout wooden table. His scraggly white hair was reminiscent of a Medusa and his rheumy steel grey eyes appeared to focus upon Deverick. A gap tooth smile spread along his lips as an aged-spotted hand smoothed out a long handsome beard.

"Ahhh! Come in lad! Come in! By the looks o' ye... well ye be in the richt place awright! Gelbrun Grobadore is at your service! Well... look'n for work eh?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:32, Fri 20 May 2016.

The Warrior named Deverick made his way past the impressive door of the Guild house, and into its bowels. When he came upon a Dwarf sitting at a table that bespoke of his being in the right place, the Warrior offered him a smile. He sat the mail bundle upon the floor and stretched before he spoke, and when Deverick did respond, it was in Dangmir, the native tongue of the Dwarves, admittedly with a thick accent.

 “ I offer greetings, Rock Brother. I be Deverick, son of Borcar, a Citizen of this city, and newly mustered out of the Militia. I be seeking a position to earn my bread with with me skill with a sword.” Said Dev,as he reached into belt pouch, and brought forth his discharge paper and offered it to Gelbrun for inspection.
This message was last updated by the player at 04:12, Fri 20 May 2016.

Master Gelbrun first studied Deverick, a certain amount of pride could be seen in those steel grey eyes. Dev knew he had made a good first impression. No doubt speaking in Dangmir was a good choice. The old dwarf then looked over the warrior's discharge papers. His lips moved as he silently read it, his head nodding now and then as he did so.

"All seems in order Hurmfardek*! Ye be in luck... Mordain smiles upon ye! This here Guild is widely respected about the city and if your skill wi' that blade be as great as it's length then ye should nay have trouble find'n and keep'n work. There is a small matter of dues... ten Orbs lad. That's for the whole year ya see. Ye can bunk down here for a few days and grab an ale at the bar... "

At this he hitched a thumb over a broad shoulder toward the place behind him where a few other fighters, by the the look of them, were hoisting up tankards at a long well made bar of dark and stained wood.

"... free o' charge. Ye have the coin surely? I have one or two jobs that might be suitable for the likes o' you."

The dwarf then held out his hand, palm up!

*Means literally Human big and strong in Dangmir.

In reply to The Oligarch (msg # 15):

 Deverick looked beyond the Dwarf, and saw the others, near the bar, eating and drinking. The fellowship was obvious of men  and women that lived by steel and blood. It took a special sort of individual to be a Warrior, not everyone could fulfill the measure of that life.  He was immediately drawn to this place of fellowship and comradely.

 When  Gelbron held out his hand,and made mention of Dev having the price of joining, he hesitated. But then he chuckled, and dug into his purse for the ten pieces of gold and placed them into the Dwarf’s palm. Each coin was unique in its own way. One was newly minted with the symbol of Greyhawk on one side, and an image of the Lord Mayor upon the other. Each coin was much like the one before, in different states of wear and fade, two where from Hardy, the image was of its Despotrix and city symbol. There was even on coin from the far off Kingdom of Keoland, it was square in shape.

 Once the coins where gone, Deverick regarded his much lighter purse with a frown. “ I be in the hopes ye are right, Master Gelbrun. Me purse be light, and I av need of work fittin fer a Warrior. But naught on the shady side o things, if ye please. I be a right proud follower of Tritherion, he don’t like such things. No insult offered to ye.” Said Dev,as he looked to the food and drink beyond the Dwarf’s Table.

The old dwarf counted the coins... testing each, first with a practiced eye then judging their weight by juggling them around his age-spotted hands. The Quartermaster even bit the old coin from Keoland before setting them aside with a nod of satisfaction.

"All seems in order lad. Remember this bit o' advice. Gold doesn't burn!"

Dev had heard this before. From an assistant smith, a dwarf, who worked along side his father at the smithy. Besides the oblivious, the dwarves' love for gold was often seen as greed but Dev knew it to be more out of practicality. Dwarves feel that forms of wealth, just like people, must prove themselves trustworthy and nothing was more trustworthy as gold.

"Tritherion eh? Well that's gud ta hear lad. This is a respectful place. I nay hire out to ruffians n' such. But Tritherion must be smiling down on ya! The jobs be this... one, Ren O' The Star is in need of sum muscle. Dangerous work aye!
Being ah Oligarch and notorious gambler, he has his share o' enemies. Yet, he has plenty o' coin besides. Two, ah scholar over in the Clerkburg needs ah package delivered. Up to Elmshire, bout ah day or two north o' Greyhawk. Three, a Mercenary band be hiring out. Wot I hear the company be forming n' setting off to yon Safeton and the Wildcoast. Now ye'll have to speak to each o' these for the amount coin but in me mind nobody pays as much as Ren lad. Now the scholar probably be the quickest n' easiest coin. The Mercenary captain be ah Halforc. Never trust an orc lad... even half o' one."

The dwarf paused a heartbeat, then reached into a small chest and retrieved a small item. A badge that had the crossed sword and axe behind a golden shield. The Mercenary Guild's very own symbol.

"If your future employer's mind be sound, he'll be asking to see that their badge. It means you're ah member in gud standing."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:49, Sat 21 May 2016.

 As Master Gelburn rattled off the job openings, Deverick listened to each one carefully. When the Dwarf was done and offered the mark of the Guild membership, Dev took it and placed it into a belt pouch.

 “ I jus got back to th city, a few days ago, so I no wish ta leave again, so soon. So th Merc headin fer the Wild Coast be out. I got no horse, so the Scholar be out. That be leaving Ren O Star. I never been a body guard afore. It might be right interesting work, at that. I be fer the Bodyguard  job, Master Gelbrun." Said Dev in an eager tone, with his usual grin plastered upon his face.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:59, Sun 22 May 2016.

The dwarf gave Dev a nod and returned his smile with one of his own.

"The Merchant's And Traders Union be in The old City... Thieves Quarter, just off the Processional. Ren should be there. Have ah care lad. His enemies be real enough and they be dangerous. Seek out Stimtrin Cannasay, he's ah dwarf n' known to me. He'll steer ya richt. Just remember ya got ah place here... if ya ever need it."

Gelburn then sighed "Go get ya ah ale. For certain ye'll be needing one."

Dev could see that a group of warriors had gathered around a table where two of their number now sat. One was a brawny man. Dark complicated with dark black hair. His Flan heritage was evident... mayhaps from the Duchy of Tenha. The other was a... a woman! Tall and fair of skin and hair. A Northerner, a Frost or Snow barbarian. Yet Deverick could see her muscles bulging under her leather and furs. They were arm wrestling and the surrounding warriors were cheering them on. A small pile of silver coins lay on the scarred and stained table.

A loud THUNK could be heard over the cheers. The blonde barbarian turned Dev's way and gave him a wink and smile.

"Gud try!" she said speaking Common with a thick accent. "But not gud enough!"

Still looking Deverick's way "Maybe sum other challenger now? Anybody?"
This message was last edited by the player at 05:32, Sun 22 May 2016.

 The matter of potential employment settled, at least until he spoke to Ren O Star, or more like one of his assistants, Deverick thanked Gelbrun, and offered the Dwarf his arm to clasp. “Afore I go, do ye av a place for me to store me gear, for a spell? This chain be heavy to tot, even fer me.” He said with a grin.

 With the matter of his future employment settled, at least as far as the Guild was concerned, Dev headed straight to the bar and ordered tall ale. It was quickly downed, and its brother was now in Dev’s hand. He leaned against the bar and watched the arm wrestling going on. One of them was a striking woman from the far north. Dev had only seen her like once, and long ago.

 The Northern Wench defeated her opponent, and then looked around and locked eyes with Deverick. He almost dropped his ale when he smiled and actually winked at him. He was no wet behind the ears lad, when it came to women. Nay, in fact, he had broken a few hearts of the fairer sex, from time to time. But this woman was different; she had to be, if she was here. She asked for another opponent, and Deverick found himself heading over to drop into the chair opposite her.

 The large man returned her grin with broad even teeth. “Hail, and well met, Wench. I be Deverick, son of Borcar. Just joined th Guild, I did. If ye want an opponent, I be yer man. But what say, we make it be more interesting. Say a Gold Orb ta the winner?"
This message was last edited by the player at 19:59, Sun 22 May 2016.

Gelburn accepted and returned Dev's clasp and the big warrior could still feel the strength of the older dwarf in his grip. He gave Deverick a curt nod and one of those gap toothed smiles!

"Aye! Ya can store the stuff here if ya like. I'll see it locked away fer sure. I have ah chest wi' ah gud lock I do." he said, indicating that Dev could leave the armor, blade, and gear under the table.

"Oh! Watch your back lad. Tell Stimtrin I named ya Dwarmer*. Now go!" the Quartermaster said then quickly turned to scratch some such upon the parchment before him. Most like Deverick's name and date in joining the guild.

The bar was nigh deserted when Dev ordered his ale and quaffed it down. The ale was surprisingly good considering it was free. It's nutty taste was accented by only a slight hint of honey. As the big warrior thought upon this the Tenha warrior was just rising, rubbing his wrist as he did so. Then the blonde barbarian spoke and winked at him. While Deverick settled into the chair opposite her, she nodded.

"Sure of vun self izz ah gud thing Deverick Borcarson. Ah gold yah? Vell vhy not. There are twelve silver coins on dah table. More than ah gold. You vin... you get all. I vin... I get gold coin. Yah?"

*Dwarmer in Dangmir means Dwarf friend!
This message was last edited by the player at 22:42, Sun 22 May 2016.

 The large Warrior slapped the Gold Orb upon the table." Aye, if it be worth doin, then do it well, by the Gods." Deverick made ready his arm and grasped hers in his and began.


19:23, Today: Deverick rolled 17 using 1d20.  Dev strength roll.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:26, Sun 22 May 2016.