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Cheezeegriff

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About Cheezeegriff

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  1. So it turns out I'm the dunderhead because Voldemort's character actually bid gold coins, whereas mine only bid silver. I suppose, at some auctions where there's lots of items to get through, this might legitimately happen. Sorry for the oversight everyone.
  2. Twists are fine, but I feel a bit retconned given that I said the auctioneer didn't sound keen to accept such a paltry amount as two gold coins. I didn't think three would be much better. I also said a (random NPC) merchant had already bid four, so a bid of three shouldn't have been enough. Also where are you guys discussing story stuff? I'd like to be involved if I could be. Feel free to skip me this round. I'm not sure I have anything to contribute. I don't want to be a trouble maker either, but it's worth saying I feel a bit demoralised that what I contributed to the RP might be changed or ignored by the very next person. Maybe I'm over reacting but feeling a bit emotional about it right now.
  3. What's going on in this RP? I come back and there's random burning skeletons, a random drunk guy, Wendin is vomiting to cover his footsteps and the auctioneer didn't even wait for a counter-offer! I was looking forward to a bidding war 😞
  4. Thanks, sorry! I didn't have notifications turned on for the RP itself. What show is the gif from?
  5. Jon narrowed his eyes. Was that it? For a moment he was distracted by the thought, if it’s inside a case, how do they know it’s a scroll? But, perhaps, an object inside a scroll case was safely assumed to be a scroll. And if it was a scroll, it might be a map. He raised his hand to double the size of the bid. Still a small amount. Two silver coins, to be precise. Two hours’ standard wages. “Any further bids?” the auctioneer said, in no hurry to sell for such a paltry amount. It took a while, but another gentleman bidded three coins, then a merchant put up four. Jon waited, hoping nobody else would say anything before - or after - he did.
  6. The crowd was getting a little impatient. Jon could see it on their faces, the way the rich fanned their ruddy cheeks, or the merchants drummed fingers on their arms. More and more pressed into the square in front of the auction tent to the point all the other tables were full. All except Jon’s. Something about his expression, perhaps, the half helm on the table and the claymore sprouting from his back like a crucifix had allowed him to keep his table all to himself. It was unintentional. A little amusing and probably for the best. At last, a small, wrinkly dwarf with a beard as fine as cobwebs stepped up to the dais in front of the auction tent and banged his cudgel on the lectern. “The auction will now begin,” he said in a voice as thick as his beard. “All items found on the land of one Mister Trodin Forkweathow, in the ruins of a monastary long buried. All of indecipherable age but probably dating back to the Caperium era. The first item is a set of daggers, in middling condition…” Jon tuned out. The crowd had turned mostly silent, and his boys had disappeared from sight, which was well and good. A silent crowd was hard to pick-pocket in, despite everyone’s attention being focussed on the dwarf and his assistant dwarf, who held up all the items for view. Jon’s heart started to race, and despite his calm demeanour he felt butterflies in his stomach. To pull this off he’d have to be ready at a moment’s notice.
  7. Dang. Seems common among RPers here. I've had bouts myself previously, though not right now thankfully. Just anxiety at the moment😬 😁
  8. Maybe a pendant? Something that could be worn would be cool.
  9. Jon watched the auction tent and crowd with multiple sets of eyes. One set was located in his own head. Another gazed out from the vantage point of a gable of a nearby roof. The final set peered out from the first story window of a nearby inn, between a chink left in the curtains. From such a vantage point, he had all the bases covered. The good news was nobody was giving his human form much attention. A few cursory glances here and there, of course – he still wore his chainmail-and-leather armour despite the fact he’d ditched the heavy cloak in the warmer climate – but nothing that indicated hostile intent. There were several rich folk here too. Nobles from near or far with an interest in local history, or in powerful artefacts. They mostly mingled under their own pavilion. Some were the nobility themselves, others were representatives. They watched each other with more hostility than they did anyone else, though their eyes were alert. Then there were the peddlers, still setting up stalls or barking out a list of their wares. And the merchants, just as eager to bit an outrageous sum as the nobles. And a small cluster of youths towards the back of the square, spelling out trouble with their hushed whispers and roaming eyes. Though Jon’s purse was full, he doubted he could match the bidding power of the nobility or the merchants. He needed an alternative. Someone like him, middling in buying power, and capable of assisting him in the retrieval. Or he could wait until a merchant or nobility had bought it and offered his services as a treasure hunter. Or… The eldest of the youths walked past, giving him a knowing grin. Jon gave him a look that said, eyes on the job.
  10. Thanks Mickey. This is going to be fun! Also, would you mind sharing your character sheet for Jo? I tried searching "Jo" but it didn't turn up many results.
  11. This sounds like just what I need to get back into this website 🙂 . Can I play with Jon, please?
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