<div class="floatright">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/f1/4c/81/f14c81c573fe2faade44fef000391ab8.jpg)</div><strong>Character Name</strong>Gil Roseapple<br/><strong>Character location</strong>Taproom of hte Roadside inn<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>GM, everyone<br/><hr/><br/>Gil was... antsy. The smell of ale lured her, but the schoolmarmish locals laughed her off when she had ordered a mug. Too young! Too young! they had clucked.<em>"These two-legged pigs are going to see their litters belly-up with the flood shits if they leave 'em to drinking water,"</em>she had snarled under her breath. The notion that water in the countryside might be a different, healthier water than one found in the city still hadn't quite sunk in... and the caravan had had plentiful, if weak ale, so she didn't have to worry about it. When someone had asked where<em>her</em>parents were, it was only the genuine tone of concern from the speaker that kept them free of dagger-in-gut syndrome. Just barely.<br/><br/>She had decided to play stereotype. Back to the wall, in a shadowy portion of the tavern. Except unlike your usual brooding shadowed bar-dweller, her touseled knife-cut hair was free to roam, without a heavy cowl... and instead of a tankard of ale, she was nursing a little wooden cup of yogurt... apparently as close to fermentation as these prudish longshanks would allow. Also, rather than some ill-lit back corner, her shadowy spot was a stool under a table. Still, it worked. It was when the<em>other</em>stereotypical bar-dweller spoke up that she broke her brooding, and listened... watched. The robed man was talking to the women, and Gil couldn't help but snicker at the local men ducking their heads over the apparent wizard's offer. After a few minutes, she drained her yogurt and after wiping her lips clean, swaggered over.<br/><br/>"A man who passes up treasure in a cave for the cave itself is up to something," she - or maybe Gil was a he, from the affected roughness in that voice (though being a halfling, Gil's voice was still fairly high.) "Just the same, I could use a little scratch... And I want to show up<em>those</em>unskinned pricks," She jerked her thumb back towards the menfolk of the bar, smirking. "Buy an ale for a thirstin'<em>hin</em>and I'll throw in a little of the ol' fiddle-work." A selection of pins, wires, hooks, and slender metal bits appeared and danced between Gil's knuckles artfully, before disappearing back into the sleeve they had come from.<br/><br/>As others piped up, Gil looked around at them, one after the other. They seemed soft-looking, but not fragile...<em>Safe</em>. She didn't bother hiding her surprise at the sight of the half-orc, yellow-brown eyes going wide, before speaking in her normal voice, which had little of the original throaty roughness. "Rat-god's tangled tail, I didn't know they came in<em>female</em>, too!" This was... genuine surprise. Gil has never seen a female half-orc and apparently, really never considered they existed. her freckled cheeks got a warm rose to them at her realization, and cleared her throat, back to her rougher voice. "I'm Gil. If you lot don't mind, I'll bring a sword along with you to this cave." She patted the hilt of the short sword she bore, before folding her arms over her taut chest, sticking her chin out as if<em>daring</em>someone to rebuff her.