<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/2vtQHDS.png)</div><strong>Name:</strong><strong>"Arty" Fellbrook</strong>(https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=311048.msg15089568#msg15089568)<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Caravan, On Horseback<br/><strong>HP:</strong>42 / 42<br/><strong>AC:</strong>22<strong>Touch:</strong>15<strong>Flat Footed:</strong>17<strong>CMD:</strong>19<br/><strong>Resist:</strong>Electricity 5, Cold 5, Acid 5<br/><strong>Fort:</strong>+4<strong>Reflex:</strong>+3<strong>Will:</strong>+6<br/><strong>Perception:</strong>+10 [Darkvision]<strong>Initiative:</strong>+10<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Well. That was...interesting. Arty'd hoped that Ian was at least mature enough to act civilly with him, but apparently not. Apparently, ignoring him and pretending that he didn't exist was easier than acknowledging that they had a difference of opinion over something and moving on. He understood, of course, that undead made people a bit emotional and it was a hard pill to swallow, but you'd like to think that after so many adventures together he could be afforded a bit more courtesy than 'I'mma pretend you didn't speak and continue the conversation as if you aren't here.' That wasn't just disrespectful, it was downright<em>childish.</em>Of course, there was also a part of Arty that was almost...worried. What if it wasn't the undead at all, and just that he took offence to the joke? Emotional nonsense aside, Arty did kinda like the man despite all of his...issues, and he did desperately want them to be on better terms than they were. Alas, that wasn't his decision to make. He could only hold out his hand in friendship, and if Ian wanted to spit on it, then...well, that was his prerogative.<br/><br/>It wounded Arty, of course, and he felt the stab of rejection and scorn like it was a blade being rammed into his heart. He didn't have friends, really, and he wasn't used to ever really making them, so one of the people that he hoped could be a friend treating him with such derision and scorn? It was a bitter pill to swallow. He watched Ian go with a worried, injured frown, then sighed softly and shook his head.<strong>"Well...that was unpleasant,"</strong>he muttered to himself. This is what he got for trying to socialise, he supposed. Oh, Ian would be the first one to come chatting him up when he needed healing he'd imagine. But apparently he wasn't good enough for a road-bound chat. He gave a weary sigh, then shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment to regain control over that little hurt. It was ok. He could deal with pain.<br/><br/>Little boxes, that was the trick; open the drawer, stuff the hurt inside and close it up, lock it tight and let it fade away over time. No matter what, keep smiling. You never wanted to let 'em see that they got to you. He looked over at Rishi instead; he knew how Uxia felt about undead, so he doubted she'd want to talk to him either. He pulled Patches away a little, still close enough to chat - they were travelling as a group, after all - but still, drifting closer to Rishi.<strong>"Looks like he's gone to find other prey,"</strong>he said with a smile, playing it off as a joke,<strong>"His loss though. We all know who the <em>fabulous</em> ones of the group are."</strong>He flicked his hair back over his shoulder in an exaggerated manner, offering a coy, vaguely flirtatious smile. Just smile and move on. People aren't gonna want to associate with him when he starts raising the dead. He knew that when he started down this path, and it was way too late to waver now.