1. Skyway Robbery - Rise
01-27-2020, 05:57 AM
[Body+Vigor results for Finch: 10,6,3,3,6 Result: Pass]
[Body+Vigor results for Orkan: 6,9,7,3,2,5 Result: Fail]
The sizzling brew goes down fast. It has the flavors of a strange mixture of hot, sour cider and enough distilled ale to knock a young horse on its ass. Drinking down the brew imbues the duo with a feeling of warmth from head to toe.
Perhaps Orkan's serving was especially potent, or perhaps Orkan is just leaning in to the feeling but nevertheless the spirits affect his faculties of reason and perception. His vision twists and the subtle tinted colors of these common folk's tunics gain an otherworldly contrast and their faces blur together into an amalgam of black as dark as the night sky. Looking down at his own fine threads he sees a dizzying whirlpool of color.
Orkan is buzzed and experiencing minor hallucinations. This effect will increase in intensity for three hours, before coming down over the course of the following five.
The woman sitting across from Finch gives him a disapproving scowl while the others relish in the blundering and free drinks of their new guest.
Nearby Commonwoman-[Imperial]: "HwahHwahHwah Doze you 'ere dat! BARMAID! Hwah! Well go git ye new patron sum ~fine wine~ willn't ya! HWAHHwahHwah."
Her laughter and the others is peculiar for close it sounds to the squawking of very large bird.
Commonwoman sitting opposite of you-[Imperial]: "I doze not be knowin what dese 'Barmaids' be new friend but ye 'ave ta git yurself yur nex' swig o' Groskum. Rejoice! Yur a lucky lot comin when ya did. We dunt be drinkin Groskum e'eryday nah do we?"
Several of the souls at the table already rise to get their round at Finch's expense. The man to Finch's right nudges him with his elbow.
Neighboring Commonman-[Imperial]: "Wha be da reason fer 'n Ob-Lob ta be dis far up? You got a big caravan of goods to tempt sum noble lords or sumtin?"
The woman sitting across and to the left of Orkan-[Imperial]: "Doze feathers are a bit funny, you an enchanter or wuz yur mother a hen! Hwah?"
She pounds the table with amusement at her own quip. It's apparent to Finch (but perhaps not Orkan in his addled state) that souls at the longtable well into their drinking.
[Body+Vigor results for Orkan: 6,9,7,3,2,5 Result: Fail]
The sizzling brew goes down fast. It has the flavors of a strange mixture of hot, sour cider and enough distilled ale to knock a young horse on its ass. Drinking down the brew imbues the duo with a feeling of warmth from head to toe.
Perhaps Orkan's serving was especially potent, or perhaps Orkan is just leaning in to the feeling but nevertheless the spirits affect his faculties of reason and perception. His vision twists and the subtle tinted colors of these common folk's tunics gain an otherworldly contrast and their faces blur together into an amalgam of black as dark as the night sky. Looking down at his own fine threads he sees a dizzying whirlpool of color.
Orkan is buzzed and experiencing minor hallucinations. This effect will increase in intensity for three hours, before coming down over the course of the following five.
The woman sitting across from Finch gives him a disapproving scowl while the others relish in the blundering and free drinks of their new guest.
Nearby Commonwoman-[Imperial]: "HwahHwahHwah Doze you 'ere dat! BARMAID! Hwah! Well go git ye new patron sum ~fine wine~ willn't ya! HWAHHwahHwah."
Her laughter and the others is peculiar for close it sounds to the squawking of very large bird.
Commonwoman sitting opposite of you-[Imperial]: "I doze not be knowin what dese 'Barmaids' be new friend but ye 'ave ta git yurself yur nex' swig o' Groskum. Rejoice! Yur a lucky lot comin when ya did. We dunt be drinkin Groskum e'eryday nah do we?"
Several of the souls at the table already rise to get their round at Finch's expense. The man to Finch's right nudges him with his elbow.
Neighboring Commonman-[Imperial]: "Wha be da reason fer 'n Ob-Lob ta be dis far up? You got a big caravan of goods to tempt sum noble lords or sumtin?"
The woman sitting across and to the left of Orkan-[Imperial]: "Doze feathers are a bit funny, you an enchanter or wuz yur mother a hen! Hwah?"
She pounds the table with amusement at her own quip. It's apparent to Finch (but perhaps not Orkan in his addled state) that souls at the longtable well into their drinking.
