<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: verdana;"><strong>Darcoli</strong></span></span></span><br/><div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/6/64/DeadwoodCox.jpg)</div>Character Sheet (http://plothook.net/RPG/profiler/view.php?id=13649)<br/><hr/><br/>"Everyone put your pants back on!" Darcoli announces as he re-enters the room. His gait is uncertain, due to a combination of his inebriation and the gigantic ham he carries on his back. It is easily the size of his torso, and the odds of it coming from a pig are slight. There are several forks and a single large knife stuck into its glazed surface.<br/><br/>"I thought we could do with some food," he says, as he dumps it onto the table. The glistening surface is criss-crossed with cuts, cloves inserted into each intersection. It would present quite a succulent picture, if some portion of it had not already been sliced away. "The previous owners of this fine hunk of meat were shockingly inattentive," Darcoli offers. "It seemed a shame to have it go to waste. Perhaps those of us not inclined to imbibe may at least fill their bellies in this manner. So, have we elected a leader yet?"<br/><br/>He slices off a rather large chunk and begins consuming it, the grease dripping down his chin. "I've rounds to make, injustices to correct, random battles to insert myself into. But given the dictates of our situation, I'd rather spend the evening getting to know you all better. Eat, drink, and confess. In the service of Mr. Finn we'll likely all be dead before three sunrises pass, so we might as well leave a record of our passing. You, Tari -- You're gay, right? Have an eye for the ladies, if I'm not mistaken. Not that I have issue at all with your kind, having foresworn the practice and thereby not bemoaning the diminishment of the pool you represent."<br/><br/>