<div class="floatleft">(http://www.drakonis.org/uploads/7/v/0/7v0ng7m0e3/2010/09/23/20100923140525-f61c0dcf.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: impact;"><span class="bbc_u">Half-Elf Rogue:</span></span></span><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: impact;">Lebanon Faltir</span></span><br/><em>Master of Locks and Thievery</em><br/>Character Sheet (http://plothook.net/RPG/profiler/view.php?id=8636); 10 HP (Current 10); AC 15<br/>Bolts:  10 in quiver<br/><hr/><br/>In a completely out-of-character move, Lebanon allowed Alexander to enter into his rant and run amok with it.  When he threw the explosive ordnance into the fireplace, Lebanon stood unflinching, staring at Alexander as it burst loudly.  Then, when the interminable rant was finally over, Lebanon did not laugh at him.  But Lebanon was angry.<br/><br/>"What the devil was that?" he asked, his tone of voice low, his eyes shamelessly furious.   "You dramatic fool.  What the hell is the matter with you?"  He shook his head and took one last chug from his beer, and set it down.   "Aesleod, why is this man here?  He is mad.  A raving lunatic with a good conscience is still a raving lunatic."