Piq kept her scarf half-way over her face: she had learned at an early age that she was not welcome unless human inhabitants were in a good mood. She peeked over the rough fabric and, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the next, looked over the people in the tavern.
As if satisfied by some inward decision, she took careful, deliberate steps toward a now-empty fireplace; dragging a stool onto the hearth, making a constant attempt to keep her eyes on the people around her, she sat down, clasping her hands in her lap.
She shook her head from side to side to loosen her tense neck. She didn't know how long she had been travelling: she just knew she hadn't gotten to where she wanted to go. Taking another wary glance toward the dwarf and human quaffing many drinks, she put her head on the wall.
Sleep would be nice. But she kept her eyes open, taking a rest for now.
Ah meh las ye be needin' drinks fer thyself les ye slumber from they journey. Be that an ale or two?
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She felt slightly dazed for a moment, and out of place; it's a feeling she'd normally get right before dreaming. Clearing her throat, she shook her head.
It was difficult for someone in her position to keep from seeming rude. Glancing toward the dead fireplace, she motioned toward herself, and then to the banked embers. She cocked he head in a silent question.
Rather off topic, but... (OOC: Okay, now that I actually somewhat know what I'm doing...Is it against any rule to play a mute character?) |
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* With a look of confusion he raises a brow and mutters *
Las, that nod be a yea or a ney? That be one or two?
* He then stands with a cheesy grin while playing with his rough mustache. *
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She stood up slowly, shaking her head with more force in what she hoped was an obvious "nay." This was going to either be difficult or interesting. Which, she couldn't tell now. Trying again, she pointed tentatively toward the banked embers of the fireplace, toward herself, and then, clumsily, attempted to pantomime lighting the fire.
Of course, communicating was not her strong point. But she felt that if she was going to make any progress at all in this more foreign place, she would need to try. Even if it was futile.
Rather off topic, but... I've bookmarked the topic, and I've also put up the avatar and read through the FAQ one more time. |
Be it that thy voice is impaired?
* He hunches over with a frown of interest wondering how to take this new find in his bar *
Ye be not from these parts? Where be ye from?
* Then seeing that his questions will not receive a verbal answer he catches himself and says....*
Ah point the direction and wiggle, I like these kind of guessing games. It reminds me of the time I had this orc in a headlock and he tried to beg me fer mercy. Not knowing orcish I instead though he wanted a drink, so I poured meh last flask in his face.
* He laughs loud as everyone else in the bar rolls their eyes and goes back to their drinks *
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She raised her eyebrows and relaxed a bit, but kept fidgeting. Voice impair? Heavens no. But it wouldn't be fair to give any extra hints. Where was she from? That might take some time. Explaining that you came from a desert wasteland, comprised mostly of arid hills and mountains, would never amount to anything through signs.
Hesitating, she pulled her scarf away from her face and jabbed one finger at the name along her jaw, Piq. A name would be good at this point. She pointed at herself, then traced the tattooed letters again.
* He pushes his frail body forward, bends and squints to read the mark pointed out to him... Then blurts out loudly *
Piq!
* He then smiles and places his hands on his waist *
Welcome to the Village Piq, ye be in heaven's door here.
* He then raises his arms in the air pointing to his lowly tavern of people, wenches and strong drink. *
Have a seat and call meh wench when ye be ready.
* He then scuffles back to the back of the bar and disappears *