Roxanne Fletcher
Committed
Roleplay posts: 76
Registered: Mar 16, 2021 22:33:09 GMT -5
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Post by Roxanne Fletcher on Feb 23, 2022 13:35:12 GMT -5
Following Naoki's suggestion, Roxanne found herself wandering towards the so-called "tiki bar" in search of a nice stiff drink that didn't taste of salt and sadness. In truth, she wasn't quite sure what a "tiki" was, but assumed that it had something to do with Naoki's exotic proclivities. The whole affair seemed to have been her idea, after all. Parties like this had never been her favorite sort of event, and she would have much preferred to be at home. She'd been in the woods since before dawn, and some rest would be nice. Seeing as she'd been press-ganged into playing ball, however, she figured that there was little else to do except get something decent to drink.
Stepping up to the bar, Roxanne spotted the bartender and froze. Her eyes widened as her gaze slid up the orc's body, taking in his burly arms, sculpted pectorals, and immaculate beard. It was as though Kuruk, chieftain of the southern orc tribe, had been lifted straight from the pages of her books and planted in front of her. Where had he come from? She hadn't seen the man before, but wished that she had. Cheeks flushed, she took a seat at the bar and gave him a smile, wondering what she ought to say. Something clever, or at least not entirely idiotic. What was that traditional orcish greeting that Priestess Iliana had given when she'd first met the orcs? Ah yes...
The fact that the words Roxanne spoke translated roughly to "may your spear be forever straight" escaped her entirely, but likely explained much of how the plot progressed in The Emerald Spear. Regardless, she found herself adjusting her clothes, wishing she wasn't quite so dirty from being in the woods.
"What do you have in the way of hard liquor?" she asked, wondering how long it had been since she'd had anything other than kelp beer. "And, uh, how's the boar? I caught it this morning."
Not her smoothest opening, but hadn't The Emerald Spear described orcs as a roughshod, no-nonsense folk? Honestly, its details on orcish culture had been rather light. The author seemed to have chosen instead to favor descriptions of the rugged strength of the orcs' rough green hands, which Roxanne found herself gazing at. The book's descriptions seemed accurate so far, which made her wonder how well the rest of its details fared. The thought made her fidget, and she forced herself to look up and meet the man's gaze instead.
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Lugruk
Established
Roleplay posts: 25
Age: 46
Appearance: A burly orcish man with jade green skin and yellow eyes. His dark hair is tinged with streaks of gray, and he sports an impeccably groomed beard that tied off into thick ropes on either side.
Equipment: A chain shirt, various knives, a tin full of beard oil, and a morningstar kept behind the bar for emergencies.
Skills and Abilities: Lugruk commands incredible strength, though in he is extremely out of practice in terms of combat. His martial prowess has been supplanted by a talent for drink, be it serving to an inn or brewing his own.
Registered: Feb 15, 2022 15:38:45 GMT -5
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Post by Lugruk on Feb 26, 2022 15:27:18 GMT -5
Whoops. Lugruk watched as Indica's speech deteriorated with every word, eventually reduced only to a muffled buzzing sound. Hellfrost, that was fast - but he supposed he should have guessed as much. The smaller the body, the quicker the metabolism. He'd rolled enough gnomes off of enough tavern floors to get a gist of it. His curiosity had been piqued regarding Indica's people, (and the potential alcoholic prospects therein) but it seemed such questions would have to wait, for the time being. Lugruk poured some water into the woman's freshly emptied dish as her attention was diverted to the strange short fellow that had just arrived at the bar.
And so too was Lugruk's attention stolen by the uttering of his own native tongue just a few feet away. The greeting wasn't any orcish hello that he had ever heard before, (But then, why then did it sound so familiar..?) and the pronunciation was far from perfect, but the orc didn't mind at all. His head swiveled to a white-haired woman seated at the bar, smiling up at him nervously with flushed cheeks. Must be that the heat had gotten to her, the sun was out in force today! Lugruk returned her greeting with one of a more traditional caliber, grinning a broad, tusked smile.
"Been a while since I've heard my own tongue from somebody who didn't sail with me!" The orc's eyes widened as he took in the latter half of Roxanne's comment, extending his arms with awe. "And you killed this boar? Its the best thing I've tasted in months!"
With excitement, Lugruk proceeded to make Roxanne a cocktail with rum, serving it to her in a coconut. "You just earned yourself a double shot - just don't tell the cat." He winked coyly, a thick tusk pinching off the end of his smirk. He leaned over the counter with a friendly expression, his considerable muscles flexing as he rested his elbows and forearms on the bar between them. The woman was looking at him with the most curious expression - was he overdressed?
"Name's Lugruk! Don't think I've run into you before. What can I call you, miss?"
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Maggie Sawfish
Established
Roleplay posts: 21
Appearance: Blueish-grey skin with pallid pink scar tissue and gums, solid red eyes that become paler the longer she goes without blood, messy stringy white hair. Prominent fangs, wears a dark blue jacket and become hat.
Equipment: Two bottles for general use and one bottle exclusively for alcohol, three vials of fermented blood, a corpse fisher net, a broken ship wheel handle. A metal breast plate.
Skills and Abilities: Comparable strength and agility to a trained soldier, very good swimmer, no need to breathe or eat though she does enjoy eating, only needs to consume blood or ichor to sustain herself.
Practitioner of esoteric vampire magic known as the twisting which can be used to wring a living thing out like a dishrag to harvest an ethereal fluid called ichor produced by the living when they are violent, self indulgent, guilty or cruel.
Practitioner of necromancy, capable of raising multiple corpses as thralls provided they are waterlogged with saltwater. More power can be channeled to mutate a suitable corpse into a more monstrous form even if severely damaged. This however is draining and saltwater must be absorbed into the body or ingested in order to maintain the binding or recharge.
Skilled with using polearms with an emphasis on sweeping and cutting (halberds, partizans, etc)
Knows how to fermented blood and brew grog.
Biography: Press ganged into an Undead pirate lord's crew as a deckhand and bloodbag, the admiral took a liking to her and eventually turned her while forcing himself on her. As payment for this Maggie later staked him with one of the ship wheel's handles. After some time of sweet freedom and adapting to a new life (and finding that blood and ichor taste horrible.) The floods eventually came and dragged Maggie away.
Registered: Mar 2, 2022 19:08:30 GMT -5
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Post by Maggie Sawfish on Mar 3, 2022 2:58:37 GMT -5
Heralded by the sharp smell of the sea and low moaning of effort, a woman approached the Tiki bar, gaunt with pallid blue flesh and prominent red eyes, her mouth was slack-jawed very slightly wobbling with each of her movements. Her nose flared slightly as she took in the scents before life returned to her expression, leaving her with a lively yet still corpse-like visage.
"I-is that...alcohol I smell? True genuine drink?" Her voice, raspy and harsh as it was carried a tone of wonder, as though this gaunt woman could scarcely believe that she had stumbled into a bar.
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Roxanne Fletcher
Committed
Roleplay posts: 76
Registered: Mar 16, 2021 22:33:09 GMT -5
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Post by Roxanne Fletcher on Mar 4, 2022 1:51:30 GMT -5
The tusk-baring grin that spread across Lugruk's face brought a flutter to Roxanne's chest that she hadn't expected, something she hadn't felt for a person outside of the pages of a book in months. When was the last time she'd seen someone she liked, someone who actually seemed to appreciate the work that she did here? Naoki claimed to appreciate her work, but Roxanne worried about her ulterior motives in expressing such appreciation. This orc, though...this orc seemed to be the right sort of appreciative. She accepted the drink with a wink, sniffing at it and letting out a satisfied sigh at the scent of a proper, well-mixed cocktail. How long had it been since she'd had anything other than kelp beer?
"You can call me Roxy," she said, eyes widening as his forearms flexed and bulged. "And right back to you, Lugruk. I don't know if you've tasted the drinks they've come up with around here, but they're pretty awful. Nothing but kelp beer. It's strong, but awfully salty...but enough of that. To good food and good drinks, Lugruk."
She lifted the coconut to him, taking a sip and savoring the sweet, clean flavor of a decent drink. When was the last time she'd shared a drink with anyone, she wondered? Not in months, surely. Not with anyone whose company she actually enjoyed, anyways. As she sipped at the coconut, she found her mind wandering (as it so often did these days) to a scene in her favorite book. Chieftain Kuruk had offered the Priestess Iliana a drink of his own making, just as Lugruk had done for her. How had the story gone after that, again? She'd just read it the previous night...
"They say that a chieftain can tell how his people are doing simply by the beat of their heart," said Iliana, letting the strong orcish beverage warm her body. "Does the same extend to outsiders?"
"Well now," said Kuruk, his accent heavy and exotic. "Why don't we see? Come."
As the orc pulled her close and reached into the front of her robe, the priestess gasped as his roughshod hand closed around soft flesh. Judging by the grin that spread across his face, the chieftain had not found her wanting...
Roxanne's face flushed even brighter red as she realized that she'd spaced out again, shaking her head and taking a gulp of her drink in the hopes that the strong alcohol would distract her from such scandalous thoughts. Had she always been so spacey, or was it just due to the lack of sleep? Whatever it was, it was starting to be a problem. If only there was a way to get some rest. For now, though, maybe some conversation would help keep her focused.
"Did you arrive alone?" she asked, addressing the bartender. "Or did you come with others? I landed on the Depravity with a lot of the other people here, the first ships to land on this accursed island. Where were you from before, Lugruk?"
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Whiskers
Established
Roleplay posts: 28
Appearance: A grey and white cat with piercing blue eyes. He sports a pirate outfit fit for the finest of crews. A large black captain's hat with crossbones, a caution to others. Is he a captain? No one really knows. Whiskers wears a black shirt as soft as cotton. The black sleeves embroidered with gold accents give way to white ruffled sleeve ends. The shirt has a cute white collar that Whiskers prefers to wear up. Did Whiskers dress himself, or has someone put him in it? No one truly knows.
Equipment: Whiskers takes with him a small pouch used to carry fish, papers, and other oddities.
Skills and Abilities: He does cat things since he is indeed a cat. In addition, he does occasionally deliver letters, but he himself is a true and through pirate.
Biography: meow meow meow meow meow. Meow meow! meow? MEOW!? Meow meow mrrrrr Meow.
Allegiances: anyone with a can of tuna
Registered: Mar 21, 2021 17:01:56 GMT -5
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Post by Whiskers on Mar 5, 2022 0:47:47 GMT -5
Whiskers the cat meows as some new faces come up to the Tiki bar. Wow! So many new potential friends. The adorable big-eyed feline has great thoughts about who will pet him. He quickly greeted everyone at the bar with a sniff and a meow. He recognized one of the volleyball leader ladies, ohhh she looks sooo tough. Whiskers greeted her with a very enthusiastic meow as he walked on the bar table to the next guest.
This one with the blue skin really wanted a drink, oh me too buddy, but Whiskers can not drink Whiskers is only cat. Maybe this cat can get lucky and try a sip. Whiskers still seems upset over the fact that he has not had the pleasure of having a grass skirt, he too wishes to do the butt shaking in said grass skirt. Oh well maybe soon his friend will get him one but for now he will meow at Maggie in happy greeting.
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Maggie Sawfish
Established
Roleplay posts: 21
Appearance: Blueish-grey skin with pallid pink scar tissue and gums, solid red eyes that become paler the longer she goes without blood, messy stringy white hair. Prominent fangs, wears a dark blue jacket and become hat.
Equipment: Two bottles for general use and one bottle exclusively for alcohol, three vials of fermented blood, a corpse fisher net, a broken ship wheel handle. A metal breast plate.
Skills and Abilities: Comparable strength and agility to a trained soldier, very good swimmer, no need to breathe or eat though she does enjoy eating, only needs to consume blood or ichor to sustain herself.
Practitioner of esoteric vampire magic known as the twisting which can be used to wring a living thing out like a dishrag to harvest an ethereal fluid called ichor produced by the living when they are violent, self indulgent, guilty or cruel.
Practitioner of necromancy, capable of raising multiple corpses as thralls provided they are waterlogged with saltwater. More power can be channeled to mutate a suitable corpse into a more monstrous form even if severely damaged. This however is draining and saltwater must be absorbed into the body or ingested in order to maintain the binding or recharge.
Skilled with using polearms with an emphasis on sweeping and cutting (halberds, partizans, etc)
Knows how to fermented blood and brew grog.
Biography: Press ganged into an Undead pirate lord's crew as a deckhand and bloodbag, the admiral took a liking to her and eventually turned her while forcing himself on her. As payment for this Maggie later staked him with one of the ship wheel's handles. After some time of sweet freedom and adapting to a new life (and finding that blood and ichor taste horrible.) The floods eventually came and dragged Maggie away.
Registered: Mar 2, 2022 19:08:30 GMT -5
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Post by Maggie Sawfish on Mar 5, 2022 4:15:44 GMT -5
The undead corsair looked about, puzzled by the meowing noises before finding their origin by looking down. Her eyes widened at the sight of the little pirate kitty.
"Why hello there you little thing." She said, with a sweetened tone to her voice. "What's a sweet kitten like you doing here?" Maggie's question was of course rhetorical, she just found cats to be cute, much better companions compared to the hunting dogs that she remembered being kept in the bilge of the Tyrant's Cleaver.
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Whiskers
Established
Roleplay posts: 28
Appearance: A grey and white cat with piercing blue eyes. He sports a pirate outfit fit for the finest of crews. A large black captain's hat with crossbones, a caution to others. Is he a captain? No one really knows. Whiskers wears a black shirt as soft as cotton. The black sleeves embroidered with gold accents give way to white ruffled sleeve ends. The shirt has a cute white collar that Whiskers prefers to wear up. Did Whiskers dress himself, or has someone put him in it? No one truly knows.
Equipment: Whiskers takes with him a small pouch used to carry fish, papers, and other oddities.
Skills and Abilities: He does cat things since he is indeed a cat. In addition, he does occasionally deliver letters, but he himself is a true and through pirate.
Biography: meow meow meow meow meow. Meow meow! meow? MEOW!? Meow meow mrrrrr Meow.
Allegiances: anyone with a can of tuna
Registered: Mar 21, 2021 17:01:56 GMT -5
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Post by Whiskers on Mar 6, 2022 16:23:44 GMT -5
Whiskers will stand mighty tall on his hind legs and boop Maggie on her nose with his soft furred paw. The tabby will then sit on the counter next to Maggie. When her drink comes he will try to sneak a sip from it, though Whiskers is not known for his stealth, he could easily be caught red-handed or shall we say red pawed. Quite the little rascal he is, always finding a way into trouble. However, the little fella usually gets out of many consequences of his actions. Who could ever reprimand such an adorable and distinguished gentleman?
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Maggie Sawfish
Established
Roleplay posts: 21
Appearance: Blueish-grey skin with pallid pink scar tissue and gums, solid red eyes that become paler the longer she goes without blood, messy stringy white hair. Prominent fangs, wears a dark blue jacket and become hat.
Equipment: Two bottles for general use and one bottle exclusively for alcohol, three vials of fermented blood, a corpse fisher net, a broken ship wheel handle. A metal breast plate.
Skills and Abilities: Comparable strength and agility to a trained soldier, very good swimmer, no need to breathe or eat though she does enjoy eating, only needs to consume blood or ichor to sustain herself.
Practitioner of esoteric vampire magic known as the twisting which can be used to wring a living thing out like a dishrag to harvest an ethereal fluid called ichor produced by the living when they are violent, self indulgent, guilty or cruel.
Practitioner of necromancy, capable of raising multiple corpses as thralls provided they are waterlogged with saltwater. More power can be channeled to mutate a suitable corpse into a more monstrous form even if severely damaged. This however is draining and saltwater must be absorbed into the body or ingested in order to maintain the binding or recharge.
Skilled with using polearms with an emphasis on sweeping and cutting (halberds, partizans, etc)
Knows how to fermented blood and brew grog.
Biography: Press ganged into an Undead pirate lord's crew as a deckhand and bloodbag, the admiral took a liking to her and eventually turned her while forcing himself on her. As payment for this Maggie later staked him with one of the ship wheel's handles. After some time of sweet freedom and adapting to a new life (and finding that blood and ichor taste horrible.) The floods eventually came and dragged Maggie away.
Registered: Mar 2, 2022 19:08:30 GMT -5
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Post by Maggie Sawfish on Mar 10, 2022 9:12:19 GMT -5
"Ah ah ahhh no you don't ya rascal." Maggie laughed as she slid the coconut away.
"I may not know too much about cats but I'm pretty sure they don't mix to well with liquor."
The pirate sighed. She hadn't made landfall for day and already she was chatting up the local feline population, though she did have to wonder if these people were also like her.
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Lugruk
Established
Roleplay posts: 25
Age: 46
Appearance: A burly orcish man with jade green skin and yellow eyes. His dark hair is tinged with streaks of gray, and he sports an impeccably groomed beard that tied off into thick ropes on either side.
Equipment: A chain shirt, various knives, a tin full of beard oil, and a morningstar kept behind the bar for emergencies.
Skills and Abilities: Lugruk commands incredible strength, though in he is extremely out of practice in terms of combat. His martial prowess has been supplanted by a talent for drink, be it serving to an inn or brewing his own.
Registered: Feb 15, 2022 15:38:45 GMT -5
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Post by Lugruk on Mar 12, 2022 15:52:47 GMT -5
"Did you arrive alone?" she asked, addressing the bartender. "Or did you come with others? I landed on the Depravity with a lot of the other people here, the first ships to land on this accursed island. Where were you from before, Lugruk?" "Roxy! I'll remember that. You bring the meat, and I'll keep seein' what I can do about the booze." The orc's nose turned up at the mention of kelp beer. "The cat mentioned it when she was organizing this whole affair. One of the reasons I stepped in, truthfully. Took it as my civic duty to get involved after one taste of that ogre piss you call beer." Lugruk gagged, remembering the insult his tongue had suffered at his first introduction to the vile, brackish liquid. "Just wouldn't feel right to have you all celebrate on that swill - not while we were sitting on a cargo hold full of the good stuff." If Lugruk recognized the transparency of Roxanne's thirst, he didn't show it. In truth, he was wholly oblivious, enthralled in conversation with the new face at his table. It was one of the best parts of tending bars, in his opinion - you never knew who was going to come through and order a drink. "Where I'm from? Ah, here and there. Brackenbrook, most recently. Little town off the Tarnished Coast. Far enough away not to recognize those red banners of yours." Lugruk gestured to a few other castaways serving drinks, belonging to a smattering of different races, but each eliciting a certain, abstract feeling of skullduggery. "Took my people and got the hell out of dodge around the same time the sea started licking the front door of my tavern. "Used to be a sailor, I did. Had only just gotten around to settling down when the flood hit. Looks like the ocean had different plans for me, ha!" Lugruk slammed a palm on the table, roaring with laughter at his own misfortune. "Briny bitch just couldn't get enough of ol' Lugruk!"At this, the orc winked at Roxanne, pointing a thumb at himself with exaggerated bravado.
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Whiskers
Established
Roleplay posts: 28
Appearance: A grey and white cat with piercing blue eyes. He sports a pirate outfit fit for the finest of crews. A large black captain's hat with crossbones, a caution to others. Is he a captain? No one really knows. Whiskers wears a black shirt as soft as cotton. The black sleeves embroidered with gold accents give way to white ruffled sleeve ends. The shirt has a cute white collar that Whiskers prefers to wear up. Did Whiskers dress himself, or has someone put him in it? No one truly knows.
Equipment: Whiskers takes with him a small pouch used to carry fish, papers, and other oddities.
Skills and Abilities: He does cat things since he is indeed a cat. In addition, he does occasionally deliver letters, but he himself is a true and through pirate.
Biography: meow meow meow meow meow. Meow meow! meow? MEOW!? Meow meow mrrrrr Meow.
Allegiances: anyone with a can of tuna
Registered: Mar 21, 2021 17:01:56 GMT -5
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Post by Whiskers on Mar 12, 2022 17:58:29 GMT -5
Whisker hisses at the drink unhappy that he could not partake before staring up at Maggie wide-eyed. His eyes an adorable chocolate brown as the cat looked pleadingly at the pirate. Whatever the cat is pleading for who knows, but one thing is for certain Whiskers wants to feel included in the days festivities even if it includes getting a coconut full of milk and pretending it is spiked with coconut rum.
Whiskers will meow the tiniest most adorable meow that has ever been heard. What a sweet feline who could say no to those begging eyes.
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Maggie Sawfish
Established
Roleplay posts: 21
Appearance: Blueish-grey skin with pallid pink scar tissue and gums, solid red eyes that become paler the longer she goes without blood, messy stringy white hair. Prominent fangs, wears a dark blue jacket and become hat.
Equipment: Two bottles for general use and one bottle exclusively for alcohol, three vials of fermented blood, a corpse fisher net, a broken ship wheel handle. A metal breast plate.
Skills and Abilities: Comparable strength and agility to a trained soldier, very good swimmer, no need to breathe or eat though she does enjoy eating, only needs to consume blood or ichor to sustain herself.
Practitioner of esoteric vampire magic known as the twisting which can be used to wring a living thing out like a dishrag to harvest an ethereal fluid called ichor produced by the living when they are violent, self indulgent, guilty or cruel.
Practitioner of necromancy, capable of raising multiple corpses as thralls provided they are waterlogged with saltwater. More power can be channeled to mutate a suitable corpse into a more monstrous form even if severely damaged. This however is draining and saltwater must be absorbed into the body or ingested in order to maintain the binding or recharge.
Skilled with using polearms with an emphasis on sweeping and cutting (halberds, partizans, etc)
Knows how to fermented blood and brew grog.
Biography: Press ganged into an Undead pirate lord's crew as a deckhand and bloodbag, the admiral took a liking to her and eventually turned her while forcing himself on her. As payment for this Maggie later staked him with one of the ship wheel's handles. After some time of sweet freedom and adapting to a new life (and finding that blood and ichor taste horrible.) The floods eventually came and dragged Maggie away.
Registered: Mar 2, 2022 19:08:30 GMT -5
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Post by Maggie Sawfish on Mar 18, 2022 2:58:23 GMT -5
Maggie gave a long drawn out sigh and muttered something indecipherable under her breath.
"Hey barman! Ya got somethin' for this little fuzzball? Thing keeps looking at me funny, an I think it might be looking for a drink too."
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Roxanne Fletcher
Committed
Roleplay posts: 76
Registered: Mar 16, 2021 22:33:09 GMT -5
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Post by Roxanne Fletcher on Mar 23, 2022 11:25:53 GMT -5
Bring the meat, and I'll bring the booze... Roxanne was no expert, but if her reading was anything to go by, she was pretty sure she wasn't the only one bringing the meat in this situation. The thought of it made her head spin, although that could have just as easily been attributed to the strong liquor. A drink like this wouldn't have hit her so hard back home, but she'd had nothing but kelp beer for so long that she seemed to have lost her touch. Perhaps it also had something to do with the fact that she hadn't eaten anything all morning...but musings about her alcohol tolerance were for another time. At the moment, she had more important things to deal with.
"You're a hero of the community," she said, nodding to the bottles stacked behind him. "Don't know what we would have done without you. And the Tarnished Coast...that's not somewhere I've heard of before, but I suppose none of that matters now. We're all a long way from home, stranded together on this little island. Nothing to do but move forward and try to make the best of things, hmm? Seems that you've got a regular rogue's gallery of a crew here. Any of them more than just crew? I have a hard time believing the ocean is the only lady who had a hard time letting you go."
Hearing a meow, she glanced down at the cat and frowned. Someone had dressed the unfortunate creature in tiny clothes for some reason, and it seemed that the animal hadn't yet managed to take them off. It didn't seem bothered, however, and Roxanne didn't want to risk getting scratched just to remove its ridiculous outfit. Who made clothes for a cat, anyways? Some people just had too much time on their hands.
"Compared to kelp beer," she said, "anything tastes good. I'm half-convinced that's why they make it. Even the bitter roots and strange animals taste like fine cuisine after a few mugs of that awful stuff. This, though...this is something special, Lugruk. You're a real artist with a shaker and a bottle."
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Whiskers
Established
Roleplay posts: 28
Appearance: A grey and white cat with piercing blue eyes. He sports a pirate outfit fit for the finest of crews. A large black captain's hat with crossbones, a caution to others. Is he a captain? No one really knows. Whiskers wears a black shirt as soft as cotton. The black sleeves embroidered with gold accents give way to white ruffled sleeve ends. The shirt has a cute white collar that Whiskers prefers to wear up. Did Whiskers dress himself, or has someone put him in it? No one truly knows.
Equipment: Whiskers takes with him a small pouch used to carry fish, papers, and other oddities.
Skills and Abilities: He does cat things since he is indeed a cat. In addition, he does occasionally deliver letters, but he himself is a true and through pirate.
Biography: meow meow meow meow meow. Meow meow! meow? MEOW!? Meow meow mrrrrr Meow.
Allegiances: anyone with a can of tuna
Registered: Mar 21, 2021 17:01:56 GMT -5
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Post by Whiskers on Mar 23, 2022 16:08:38 GMT -5
Whiskers indeed is looking for a drink. Whiskers noticed Roxanne staring at him, this made him stand tall and alert to show off his courageousness and boast his cuteness on top of that. People seemed to adore dressing Whiskers up but this is no ordinary outfit, this is his uniform and he wears it with pride. His tail swishes around as he tilts his head side to side the motion almost mesmerizing. Suddenly the cat lays down and rolls over, exposing his soft underside. There is an intentional portion of his belly uncovered by clothing. Who dares reaches to pet the cat's belly? Is this a trap, or is Whiskers using his ultimate move to get the most amount of pets from the fellow guest goers.
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Lugruk
Established
Roleplay posts: 25
Age: 46
Appearance: A burly orcish man with jade green skin and yellow eyes. His dark hair is tinged with streaks of gray, and he sports an impeccably groomed beard that tied off into thick ropes on either side.
Equipment: A chain shirt, various knives, a tin full of beard oil, and a morningstar kept behind the bar for emergencies.
Skills and Abilities: Lugruk commands incredible strength, though in he is extremely out of practice in terms of combat. His martial prowess has been supplanted by a talent for drink, be it serving to an inn or brewing his own.
Registered: Feb 15, 2022 15:38:45 GMT -5
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Post by Lugruk on Apr 9, 2022 19:52:22 GMT -5
"Hero?" Lugruk wiggled an eyebrow, amused. "First time I've been called a hero in all my life, I think! Though, I'd wager that title might lose some of its luster once the booze runs dry. Least, until I start brewing my own stuff. Haven't had much of a chance to get a foothold in all the commotion - you know how it is, I'm sure."
Then Roxanne began to pry into Lugruk's more... illicit affairs. "Ah... Yeah, you could say disappointing the ladies is something of a hobby of mine." Lugruk mused with a sheepish grin. "But to answer your question, no - least, not this particular rabble here. I've had my fair share of encounters at sea, but these folk are all just old, ah... business partners. Seafarin' buddies. Just a bunch o' normal ones, them."
He glanced over at one of the men in question, who was actively uncorking a bottle with a metal hook, affixed to his arm at the wrist. After meeting the orc's gaze, the man waved the hooked limb over at him in greeting. Lugruk looked back to Roxanne, grinning dismissively while attempting to appear unlike the kind of person who might be in charge of a crew of seasoned pirates.
Lugruk decided that this particular moment was an excellent time to become distracted by a cat. "Aw, well aren't you a dapper little fella?" He reached down, giving the cat a gentle scritch on its exposed belly. "You don't look like one of mine. Definitely dressed the part, though." Lugruk added under his breath. "Who's your crew, little guy?"
At Roxanne spoke the word 'artist', Lugruk released another guffaw from the bellows of his chest. "Well, thank you kindly. Some folk work in oils or pastels - to each his own. And that's the thing about booze ain't it? Its like that celestial stuff - Ambrosia, something or other. One sip, and it ruins the taste for anything you eat or drink after. Compared to what the gods guzzle on the daily, everything else just starts to taste like dirt." He paused, ruminating for just a moment before shrugging dismissively and whipping a towel over his shoulder. "Probably a lesson somewhere in all that, but ain't my job to debate theology, eh?"
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Whiskers
Established
Roleplay posts: 28
Appearance: A grey and white cat with piercing blue eyes. He sports a pirate outfit fit for the finest of crews. A large black captain's hat with crossbones, a caution to others. Is he a captain? No one really knows. Whiskers wears a black shirt as soft as cotton. The black sleeves embroidered with gold accents give way to white ruffled sleeve ends. The shirt has a cute white collar that Whiskers prefers to wear up. Did Whiskers dress himself, or has someone put him in it? No one truly knows.
Equipment: Whiskers takes with him a small pouch used to carry fish, papers, and other oddities.
Skills and Abilities: He does cat things since he is indeed a cat. In addition, he does occasionally deliver letters, but he himself is a true and through pirate.
Biography: meow meow meow meow meow. Meow meow! meow? MEOW!? Meow meow mrrrrr Meow.
Allegiances: anyone with a can of tuna
Registered: Mar 21, 2021 17:01:56 GMT -5
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Post by Whiskers on Apr 15, 2022 14:12:00 GMT -5
AHA! This has been the chance Whiskers has been waiting on. Whiskers quick as can be like a bear trap wraps his limbs around the unsuspecting hand of Lugruk. His teeth gently sinking into the orc's flesh, not painful enough to puncture the skin but enough pressure to leave a little indent. Whiskers has won this little game of his. He isn't sure what exactly this victory is but he likes the feeling of accomplishment. Whiskers though he has aged out of his kitten years is still playful at heart. The green tint of Lugruk's skin reminds the feline of the green catnip he has feasted on so many moons ago. That was wild night for sure, all he remembered was waking up wearing a dress! My goodness did that give the cat quite the fright.
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