Schnickle's fear competed with his desire for free food. Was the poison? But would it be better to play along with the drow? Slowly, Schnickle nodded. "Have a taste, I shall." He'd have to wait until after the drow-blood had had a drink, of course.

And with whom do I have the pleasure of sharing this drink with?
Quinlan asked, pouring up some wine for the unknown man.

Name, name, name! "Schnickle-" No, not that one! "Uh.... Human. Arhuman it is, a human I am. Yes." Whew! Saved!

He didn't touch the wine, not yet.

"And you are who?" asked the newly christened Schnickle Arhuman.

Still Quinlan Fairfellow! The young rogue states with a laugh. So, you're here for the shackling? Mr... Arhuman. he asks his peculiar dinner partner, not quite knowing what to think of this odd character.

09:32, Today: Quinlan Fairfellow rolled 15 using 1d20+8. Spot.

"Shackling? No, no idea what it is have I." he said, shaking his head. "But this 'animal antiquarian' like to see I should." Schnickle liked animals, more so that most gnomes.

He glanced around, uncomfortable at the drow's proximity. So far, no one else in the inn had run in terror from the drow nor tried to drive him off. It was more like an Underdark tavern, where drow were too dominant and frightful to be rid of. Were they as common on the surface as they were below?

Could a svirfneblin get by the same then? Schnickle was anxiously aware that his glamer was running out of time. Soon he would have to either reveal himself or flee.

Schnickle slid the glass of wine closer to him, though he still didn't drink from it. He said a short phrase in the Undercommon tongue, wondering if the drow-ling would understand. "Thank I you." Strangely, this drow-blood was the most familiar thing on this strange surface world.


OOC: Disguise 21
I guess he is a reasonably facsimile of a human, even if the behaviour and speech is all wrong. :)

I too am intriguied by the fantastic creatures on display. Quinlan replies. He does not react to the Undercommon phrase, and simply takes it as a form of "cheers".

Caitlin began eating her stew when a new figure entered the inn. While sipping on the hot food, her eyes never left the newcomer. Her eyes went wide for a second when she instinctively assumed Quinlan was a fullblooded drow. But she knew them. He was no drow but a half-breed. Caitlin relaxed just a little, wondering what made a half-breed provoke the wrath of ignorant humans. Or perhaps he was known enough in this place that nobody would hunt and kill him.

A movement at her side caught her attention and she saw her lover's hand jerking towards his blade. Quickly her hand covered his and her eyes transported a silent message to him: Don't! "He's a half-breed. Don't act yet." the girl hissed under her breath, knowing Loorn trusted her instincts, or her paranoia as he called it. She called it a sense of self-preservation.

Something didn't fit the picture...

[Private to DM Tarkin: Please make a sense motive roll for Caitlin]
This message was last edited by the player at 10:33, Fri 16 May 2008.

OOC: Quinlan actually orders a bottle of wine with his food, but it's ok if Caitlin missed that ;-)

I'll have your rooms ready in just a little while, there are rooms up the stairs over there, she hands out 3 keys with simple wooden identifiers.

Breakfast is served shortly after sun up, take your time with the wine. Just leave the dishes for me in the morning.

[Private to Caitlin o'Donnel: you don't sense any malice from the half drow]

"He's good at hiding his intentions. He even manages to hide them from me." the woman thought, then caught the innkeeper talking about rooms. "Ah thank you ma'am, a cozy bed is highly appreciated." Caitlin said and took the key, looking it over for a second, assessing how secure the look could be. Not satisfied with the result, she decided that she would have to protect them as she did usually.

As Loorn saw the drow enter it was as if something bestial had awaken inside him, his hand went for his axe but Caitlin’s voice stopped him and he turned his head and looked at her, then finally nodded.

“Hardly the time… or place…” He thought letting his hand fall away from the axe and back to his place. His food was good but their company spoiled his appetite rather quickly and just barely managed to finish his meal. Getting their room felt suddenly very important.

As the key arrived Loorn nodded to the woman and said a quit thank you for their dinner.

The surprise appearance of the drowling had distracted Schnickle, and he'd lost count of how long his glamer had been running. He figured he still had the time though; he just had to make the most use of it.

He merely nodded to the drow-known-as-Quinlan, and set to licking his plate clean after the vegetable stew, and gobbling up the roast turkey. Now he was busy gnawing on a drumstick that, he reflected, was so large it could very well have come from a gnome.

Then something rather strange happened.

One moment, there sat the blandly human character that had behaved so oddly. The next, there was a much shorter and odder creature. He was a gnome, probably, but grey of skin and ratty of face, and much shorter and skinnier than most gnomes. The peasant clothes had been exchanged for scuffed and patched travelling gear and scrappy chain-shirt. He had the tools of an adventurer and explorer, a crossbow, and a deadly looking gnomish hooked hammer.

And he'd not noticed. He carried right on eating the drumstick and making lip-smacking and gravy-slurping noises.

"Ha!" Caitlin called out and pointed at the suddenly-less-than-human person at the next table. "I knew something was off! I have yet to see a more sloppy disguise." she commented, drawing her dagger, mentally readying a spell should hostilities break out.

And then it dawned on her, this wasn't her brother in disguise, nor anyone else of her family that were going after her. None of them would have been that sloppy, or dirty, and none of them would have chosen the guise of a half-drow. She was ready to slap her forehead but that would have been too obvious. Instead, her stance relaxed, just a tiny bit, still these fellows could mean trouble.

Uh oh... Schnickle, still with drumstick in hand, looked slowly around, from the angry shouty woman and the drow sitting opposite. They only just noticed that he was a drow? It was hardly even a disguise.

He shrank back into his seat, acted like he was paying no attention and tried to look even more small and unnoticeable.

Quinlan took the key and started juggling with it, adding the cutlery and the wine cup as he winked at the landlady and continued his conversation with his rather odd mate.

Yeah, so I'm something of a performer see, and hope to make a few gold at the festi... what!? The utensils dropped with a clutter and crash as Quinlan discovered the man next to him had transformed into what looked like an odd-looking gnome.
Tymora! What are you?

It was good juggling. Schnickle liked it. He guessed that Quinlan had swore to some surface-world god upon dropping his things.

"A human I am." he insisted. Perhaps he wanted to know his occupation; after all, he'd just given his. "A miner and prospector humble I am, and seeking work." Two half-truths had gone together to make a whole.

"I have yet to see a ... what... three foot human that is NOT a child." Caitlin said, now totally convinced she was talking to an imbecile who didn't realize his spell had worn off. "It is not working anymore, just in case you missed that."

Quinlan laughs at the sudden turn of events, merrily picking up his mess and waiting for the next explanation.
Don't worry little one; you're safe with me!

"...What?" With mounting horror, he looked at the little hands that now held the drumstick. It wasn't hard for him to not see the glamer, it made it easier to do things if he didn't imagine himself three feet taller than he was. He blinked a few times, but the glamer most definitely did not come into focus. Oh.

He gave a quick yelp of something in Gnomish - "Oh no!" then dived under the table and scooted under the chairs, not unlike a large rodent.


OOC: Hide 14, Move Silently 17

:D

Darla comes out of the kitchen and asks Would anyone care for some coffee? She stops, blinks a few times as at least one guest is gone and there appears to be a small gray person hiding under one of her tables.

Loorn really raises his eye brows at the transformation around the "human" who in reallity seems to be some kind of gnome or something. He was uncertain what kind though, it wasn't a type he had ever come across... and of course his loved one had known, she always did.

He moved away his hand from his weapon as he saw that the little one seemed to afraid to be something of a threat.

"Darling... I think you should..."

I've served you some more wine for when you're ready to come out from there! Quinlan says, earnestly. For all his mirth he does know something of the feelings the gnomeling experiences, being an outsider himself. Quinlan is intrigued by this fellow though, like seeing something out of a dream.

Caitlin looked at Loorn, then at the scene before her. Perhaps she had been really paranoid? Well, she hadn't been too far off that something wasn't right. But perhaps she didn't need to draw her weapon. She looked at Loorn again and realized how safe she felt when he was near.

Cait sheathed the dagger and sat down again. "Yes, a coffee would be nice. Maybe that little one would prefer a cup of tea though."

He peered from under his hiding spot. Well, they hadn't turned into monsters and tried to eat him or anything, yet. In fact, they were ordering drinks as though no great thing had happened.

He felt a little embarrassed, in fact.

So he laid under the chairs for a time, considering. A svirfneblin's natural instinct, drummed in since childhood, was to run and hide and be unnoticed and avoid dangers. It was the only way to be safe. But Schnickle was on the surface now, there was nowhere for one of his kind to hide from the dangers. No caves, no burrows, no walls, no roof. Just a big wide open space full of strange and unknown people. How could he even hide from all that?

Finally he slid out from the chair, staring upwards and blinking. Then he silently got to his feet, climbed back onto the chair, and sat down, without a word and looking very small indeed. Were they all watching him?

So, you two don't seem to be needing the Shackling, here to see the beasts as well?
Quinlan enquired, offering what was left of the wine to the two at the next table. He deliberately didn't fuss over the gnome when he appeared, simple slid the now full glass over as to acknowledge his presence.