Greetings to a new arrival

[Norman]

With a few agile twists and a fair bit of climbing the small orc approached the girl that was in the rafters. He waved at the greetings from the air, and only at the last moment realised that they had indeed come from an owl.

 

Norman paused, his small orc in a large orc tribe survival instincts whispered thoughts and possibilities to him in their little internal monologue. "That owl may be a useful assistant in kittenhunting,'not that I would hunt kittens', and the rafters seem safe-ish." The thoughts stopped as he realised that he was not leaning on a rafter anymore, Norman patted the strange knobbly thing at his shoulder height and wondered what sort of wood it was.

 

Appy giggled, "Oi, that is my Knee silly!" Norman jumped, the rafters disappeared past his head as he fell, luckily orcs can land on their heads, it does the least amount of damage. Unfortunately his fall was broken by a small gathering of kittens.

 

"Sorry 'bout that, didnt see you there!" he yelled up at the rafters and mentally included the kittens that seemed far to close for comfort.

 

Orc hands do tend to operate on their own when there are things to pick up, and it took only a few seconds as Norman stood for one of them to grab on to the tail of one of the kittens. The rest pounced.

 

If Norman had learned one thing, it was how to run from the middle of a scuffle. Norman detached himself from the living fur coat as he tried in vain to avoid the gaze of Mynx, his tattered appearance rappidly becoming kittenscratched and torn too. "Sorry luv, nice kitty, no harm done now, just leaving like I said, no need to get up there."

 

The scene was beginning to resemble a tornado of fur, with a bowler hat. "Oi leggo, get off me, ow, help, that's m' ear, ow, get off it, help, heeellp!!"

 

Crypt faught the laughter long enough to get a comment out, "relax Norman, they just trying to make friends with you!"

 

Norman began to climb the wall to escape, dripping kittens as he slowly gained height and extracted himself from the pool of fur. He looked down at the kittens clawing at the wall and glanced at Mynx. The last kitten still had a death grip on his ear and was chewing, "Ok, ok you had your fun, now call them off will you? Please? I dont think a fur earring is a good look in this day and all."

 

The kitten let go and landed with the rest, as orcish hands dragged a kittenscratched Norman to the rafters once more.

 

He smiled at Appy, "Well, 'ello, Um Sorry about all that, You play poker do you? Blackjack? what game you have in mind then?"

[Appy]

*fails utterly at creativity but will come back to this later, I promise!*

[The Death of Rats]

A six-inch tall skeleton ambles past on its way to elsewhere. It gives a little wave to Appy with the paw that isn't clutching tis' seven-inch tall scythe. It is a rat-rather, it used to be.

 

Abruptly, it stops as it passes Norman, examining him from head to foot with lambent bliue eyesockets. Nodding to itself in approval, it gives him a neighborly kick in the shin before continuing on its way into the drakness.

[Ozymandias]

I have a knack for spotting a good deal, and organising the right people to meet at the right time, namely me meeting them when they is least suspecting it see, and I know there is a lizard type gentleman here with a similar sort of business mind to myself."

Ozymandias, who had been quietly enjoying himself in a corner and obeserving, overheard that key point of conversation and choked on his coffee, scalding his sinuses in the process.

 

Oh my. I shall have to see if I can't locate the Dreamer to watch for any abrupt destruction of reality when those two enter the same room...

 

He continued to blend in with the wall (wood grain skin, robes, and all), which confused those patrons passing by the still slightly gasping and spluttering empty table.

[Gwaihir]

Gwaihir passing by, recieves a spot of coffee in the eye and is tragically blinded. He dies shortly.

 

Okay, this isn't the tragic death thread, sorry! I'll revise

 

Gwaihir passing by, recieves a spot of coffee in the eye and glares more grumpily at the table than he would ever glare at a person. "This room has gotten too magical, I declare." First it was doors that hate Wyvern and now it's tables that spit coffee into my eye!