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Last seen bellowing towards the docks on three different sorts of drugs, intent on punching the eyeball demon in the groin... |
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Alchemist with a thick accent, sawn-off polearm and a casual disdain for such professional rules as "do not feed stimulants to the Kender". Smells of booze, smoke, chemicals and booze. Before settling in Grantabrugge, Bil somehow got conscripted into the King's Army, where he supplemented his pay as a low-ranking healer by distilling alcohol from anything that wouldn't actually crawl out of his mash tun or still. Bil joined the Mercenaries as opposed to the Alchemists because they seem certain to provide a continual stream of vict... er patients for his apothecary skills, and he runs out of them he can always create some more on official Mercenary business. The mercenaries appear to trust him enough to let him near the casualties, but not enough that he's allowed a better lab than the disused latrine. He hangs out in the Wessex Arms for broadly similar reasons, plus the free booze saves him having to drink his own stuff all the time. The reason he spells his name with only one "l" is because it winds up smartarsed wordy types. |
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Alchemist with a thick accent, sawn-off polearm and a casual disdain for such professional rules as "do not feed stimulants to the Kender". Currently a Quartermaster for the Army. Planned and executed a successful sabotage and infiltration mission againt the Queen's army since it was essentially "poison EVERYTHING!" and he's used to that. This was helped by managing to bullshit his way past fights or turn them into one-sided ganks by pretending to be reinforcements. "We're All Reasonable People Here" was of course employed. Wrecked most of an army's worth of weapons and armour, gassed a command tend, then went off the peace meeting and got stoned on Alchemy. Smells of booze, smoke, chemicals and booze. Before settling in Grantabrugge, Bil somehow got conscripted into the King's Army, where he supplemented his pay as a low-ranking healer by distilling alcohol from anything that wouldn't actually crawl out of his mash tun or still. Bil joined the Mercenaries as opposed to the Alchemists because they seem certain to provide a continual stream of vict... er patients for his apothecary skills, and he runs out of them he can always create some more on official Mercenary business. The mercenaries appear to trust him enough to let him near the casualties, but not enough that he's allowed a better lab than the disused latrine. He hangs out in the Wessex Arms for broadly similar reasons, plus the free booze saves him having to drink his own stuff all the time. The reason he spells his name with only one "l" is because it winds up smartarsed wordy types. |
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My booze is far, far stronger than this weak rubbish at the Arms! Plus ye get yer sight back after two days or I'll be refunding your shillin's! *sip* SUBDUE SUFFICIENT *thunk* |
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I ruined an entire army's weapons and their general! Hurhurhur! |
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Something that scared the shite out of me? I'd have to say that riding a burning ship into a Hibernian fleet, then realising we'd need to keep jumping across boats like bouncin' swogs so we didn't get cuaght in the fire. I were wearing chainmail, so one slip'd be a watery grave for sure. Leggin' it through a bunch of 'eavily armed screaming lunatics and burning demons while the boat went up in flames behind me is not a thing what I plan to do ever again. Still, a bad plan's better'n no plan! |
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Something that scared the shite out of me? I'd have to say that riding a burning ship into a Hibernian fleet, then realising we'd need to keep jumping across boats like bouncin' swogs so we didn't get caught in the fire. I were wearing chainmail, so one slip'd be a watery grave for sure. Leggin' it through a bunch of 'eavily armed screaming lunatics and burning demons while the boat went up in flames behind me is not a thing what I plan to do ever again. Still, a bad plan's better'n no plan! |