Coby shrugs.  "The knight was about to tell us of his quest.  We're all of us in need of either capital or something to do.  What say we band together and have us an adventure?"

Gildor greeted the newcomers warmly and sipped at some soup while waiting for the errant  knight to return from the water closet.

Slove looks at Coby.
"I know enough about magic to know what good and bad.  I hate arcane magic and it hates me.  End of story.  As for healing that was tried..."
It clear from his word and fail would be next part of the sentence.
"The mask could work however.  I will keep that useful piece of information.  It maybe useful."/blue>
Slove looks at rest of the group.
<blue>"Well as Jorn says.  We in.  We have nothing better to do."

Coby, with the exuberance of youth, never knows when to just smile and nod.  "How can arcane magic hate you?  How can it hate anything?  Stop personifying impersonal forces.  YOU hate magic because YOU have poor luck with it.  Accept that and let go of your misfortune - cling to it and it will continue to dominate your life."

Jorn, on the other hand, could just smile and nod in response to Slove's comment.  "Certainly.  We're in.  Some coin may be necessary for us to get back home, and we may learn something new and exciting along the way as well."

He seemed to gloss over Coby's comment, though you couldn't quite tell if that was intentional, or just diplomatic.

Slove turns to face Coby.  The look is really not nice.  Slove face is scared with what looks like deep burning that should have kill him.  As for pain and agony he must felt.  Being cooked alive would been kinder to him.
"Clearly you do not understand as most do not.  Magic is alive and it does have personally or to be true many personalties.  I have seen them.  I felt them."
He looks Coby over.
"If you wish I can show you my skills and tell you what item you have that magical.  If need me demonstrate I have some magic skills?"

Coby shrugs, leaning back in his chair.  "Magic is just magic.  A force, like the weather or nature.  The goddess Mystra may have personality, but that's it.  And your parlor tricks don't impress me - my mother was... is a powerful sorceress.  I grew up with cantrips as baby toys and divinations as tutors."

Slove looks at Coby.  It clear he really has said wrong thing.
"You clearly do not understand at all.  You call my gifts from my god parlor tricks.  I am sure you not worth him hunting you down for such an insult but I wait and see if he does.  I just wish you understand I know magic."
He then gins at Coby clearly being insulting back.
"As for your mother.  I was casting spells before she stopped wetting herself.  I will most like still be casting spell went your great great grandchild has just stopped doing the same."
It is clear Slove has not wish carry on talking about subject.

He then talks to Jorn
"So what we joining up to."

"Oh, you're a priest," Coby grins.  "I thought you were speaking of magic that was ARCANE.  I can assure you, I have nothing but respect for whomever you worship and whatever gifts He She or It (depending) feels fit to bestow upon you for your devotion."

There isn't a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

He pours a bit of his glass onto the floor.  "Here, a libation for your god.  May whomever you worship smile kindly upon our endeavors."

He takes a sip from his own glass.  "And congradulations for staying alive long enough to be however old you are.  I'm sorry you've only managed to achieve about the same station in life as a fifteen year old human in all that time."

There was definitely a bit of sarcasm there.

Before Slove could respond, which was probably just as well, yet another patron descended upon the table, looming over the others like a giant.

He was a tall man, tending to corpulence, and made more girthful by the plentiful clothes he wore. Billowing blue-green pantaloons led up to a frilly white shirt beneath green-blue coat lined with red-and-yellow fur. At the very top of this mountain of clothing was a floppy red Sembian-style hat. All over, the man glittered in the fire light, thanks to adornments of golden brooches and silver rings and bejewelled buttons. Somewhere in all this was a face, pudgy and pleasant, lined by a bushy red beard.

"Well met, travellers." he boomed, in a friendly tone. "Might you be of the adventuring 'profession'? If so, I may have a profitable proposition for you."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:35, Sun 02 Dec 2007.

"Coby Koensson, at your service," the young man smiles.  "I am indeed a professional adventurer.  How can I help you?"

Slove turn to newcomer.
"You welcome to join us.  Coby here was just demonstrating how stupid young humans can be.  However we welcome different direct in conversation.  So what brings you here."

"Sir," Coby warns Slove.  "Unless your god encourages such insults, I will have to demand an apology.  To me for the insult, and to your ancestors for shaming them with your arrogance."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:01, Sat 01 Dec 2007.

OOC: Coby are you talking to Slove?

PS Coby really should said yes in right place and no in right place.  But if that way Coby is then this going to be interesting group to play in.  He he.  LOL

OOC: Yea, he meant Slove.  And he's pretty much this way - he doesn't let it get in the way of his job, he's a professional - but he's still in certain ways just a kid, and doesn't know any better.

"I think if the pray is intelligent then my god would be quit happy with my insulting it if make hunt more fun.  So yes.  Chances of apology "None".  Chances of arrow in you backside "High" if get going now I give you an hour."

At which slove cracks up laughing.
He turns back to his dwarf friend.
"Aren't we missing something?"

"The Prey.  HA!  Don't forget to tell the knight that you hunt intelligent prey when he gets back.  Let me apologize to you, than.  I mistook you for a man of honor.  Looks like I was wrong on both counts."

He smiles in satisfaction for a moment before frowning.  "You seem a little slow, so let me explain that.  I mean you're neither a man, nor do you have any honor.  Threatening to shoot me with an arrow - in my backside.  I suppose you'd have to be sneaking up on me before you felt brave enough to act."

He sits forward in his chair.  "I don't trust you, and I'll not go on any journey with you.  You don't meet my standards of professionalism.  I mean, look at me!  I'm fifteen!  You can expect this sort of thing from time to time.  But ohhh you, big strong man who claims to have been old when my mother was young!  How do I know you won't run away if we face that magic you fear so dearly, or shoot me in the back at the first opportunity!  Arguing with a child!  You should be ashamed of yourself."

[Private to DM BadCatMan: Probably going to end up sitting this one out for RP reasons.  Coby suspects that Slove is a Zhent, or at least a priest of Malar, and doesn't want anything to do with him.  I don't mind - it's good roleplaying - but I don't want to slow down your game with bickering.]

With a rapidly expanding sense of dismay, Tulin looked from Coby to Slove, back-and-forthing with their bickering. They had to be adventurers, alright. Who else could be so quarrelsome and crazy?

But what was he, chopped liver? "Hrum hum." Tulin Fairweather cleared his throat, loudly and noticeably. "Personally I find ignorance and foolishness to be distributed amongst humans and elves and other races in equal measure, at any age." The statement was generalized, yet somehow quite pointed.

"Now then, if you indeed interested, will you hear my proposition? Or shall I go elsewhere to find some 'professionals'?"

Slove turns to Tulin.
"I am hunter by profession and by life.  That is where my honor lays no more no less.  If that is your idea of an adventurers then I am willing to hear your proposition.  My dwarven friend will join me I am sure.  As for the child, he speaks for himself.  To much I would say but that's up to him."
Slove has ugly smile on his face.
"Would you like drink while we talk over you proposition?"

Althought he answer the new comers question he also answering Cody.  From his words it clear sneaking up on Cody and sticking an arrow in Cody backside is an honorable thing if he declared Cody pray.

"I'm sorry, friend.  I am an adventurer - I've been doing this since I could walk - but I don't think that this one here and I could get along long enough to work together.  I wouldn't be able to do my job without worrying that he'd be waiting to stick an arrow into my back as soon as I turned away from him, and he's said nothing to make me see otherwise.  His talk of hunters and men as prey... he sounds to me like a worshiper of Malar."

Slove makes a big noise.
"Ahh"
He pulls out a wooden holy sybmlo."  It is of Solonor Thelandira.
He turn to face Coby full on.
"Ok a little bit of education for you.  O server Solonor Thelandira he is the elven god of Archery, Hunting.  I only hunt animals for food or if they are danger.  I hunt intelligent creature only if evil.  I only kill others that would kill defenseless creatures or bring demons into this world."
He turn back to now comer.
"Now let him speak so we may find what he has for us to do."

Coby just snorts and folds his arms over his chest, but bites his tongue.  He didn't care WHAT god the elf claimed to worship - he was the first of his kind that Coby had met that acted like more of a child than he was.

Jorn snapped back from his musings on how they'd gotten here only to find himself in a social situation with the same 'how did we get here' feeling.

He shook his head and shrugged before nodding to Tulin. "Greetings, sir.  We are adventurers." He glanced at Cody, "And though I've only journeyed with Slove here for a short while, I've never seen him behave with less than honor.  Let's put it down to pique at being jerked what seems like most of the way across Faerun in a few steps, and move on, please."

He returned his attention to Tulin, "And I, for one, would love to hear your 'proposition'.  I find myself suddenly far from clan and home, and will need resources to find my way back.  Who knows? Maybe the Finder of Trails himself set me on this path, and I'd hate to miss an adventure! _{Especially because of some minor quibbles.}""

Gildor sat impassively for a while and listened to the back and forth bickering, <purple>You two are worse than a drunken sailor with a belly full of grog. Why don't you both just put your egos back in your backpacks long enough for this gentleman to make his proposal? COby, as a follower of the Seldarine myself I know that no preist of theirs would literally shoot you in the back unless you had it coming so obviously it was a jest. So can we please move on? And you sir priest please do not speak such about the young human's mother. They tend to take offense at that sort of thing.

Slove looks at Gildor almost for the first time notice the other elf.
Slove shifts his feet.  It seems he in to mind to get up and leave or not.  He look over at Jorn.  His dection to stay with Jorn out weights his which to leave.
He does however close his hood around himself.
"Brother do you server one of Seldarine or follow there guidance in general?"
A nasty smile crosses his face.  He says something softly to himself.
[Private to Gildor Inglorion: "That why I said it.  I have my issue.  Why do you think I left my forest."  At this point you realize Slove wood elf."]