<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 60ft]<strong>Initiative:</strong>+10<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Of course, you couldn't have much of a chat without Baramos wandering on up to nose in on the chinwag, but it wasn't like he was particularly unwelcome. He was morally grey, sure, but then some would say the same of Arty himself. Really, he didn't have room to throw stones in regards to doing questionable things to get what he wanted, and he'd admit...he did have a soft spot for the burly elf. Baramos was the first person he'd met upon escaping into Skullport with a new sword and a bag of half-stolen, half-gifted coin. He was the person who'd smuggled him out of Waterdeep and into the outside world, who'd taken him under his protection when he was being hunted by the Drow and their Assassins. More than once, Baramos had been the difference between escape and recapture during a night-time raid of their camp, and though they'd eventually gotten separated - Arty still shuddered a little when he remembered what had happened in those woods before he'd managed to slip away - he never forgot the kindness. Ok, yeah, looking back with an appreciation of the value of coin, Baramos had ripped him off when it came to how much he'd charged for that protection, but in a way...that just made Arty like him more.<br/><br/>He was honest about who he was, and ripping him off? Well, that's what he woulda done to anybody. It was just easier to accomplish when the person in front of you is tiny, tired, desperate and scared. And in a weird, twisted kinda way...that was the first time anybody actually treated Arty like any other sapient creature. Like just another mortal being, rather than a piece of meat or property. He'd shown Arty the kindness of treating him like a<em>person,</em>and not just cutting and running as soon as the Drow came for him. Now that he was in a position to...well, he had been eager to pay Baramos back in a number of ways since meeting him again. And though it sounded odd to say considering how roguish and generally shady he was...Arty<em>did</em>trust him. He was Baramos and Baramos was Baramos, but...he<em>knew</em>Baramos, and when push came to shove, he dared to hope that he wouldn't abandon him without a second thought. Whether that second thought led to a change of heart, he didn't know. They'd just have to find out.<br/><br/>He gave Baramos a coquettish smile as he pulled up, inclining his head in agreement to hearing something cheerful.<strong>"In camp, maybe I'll treat you 'n the boys to a bit've a performance to go with the music, neh?"</strong>He fell into road-slang easily. When most of your education on language came from slaves, criminals and travellers...well, you developed certain ticks.<strong>"Errybody likes dinner 'n a show."</strong>He grinned, then glanced at Uxia as she spoke. She was a...weird one, that one, always looking for sex, sex and more sex. Arty could relate, of course - sex was awesome, that thrill of connection, the penetration and dull throbbing that chased away the concerns of the day and filled you only with the<em>now</em>and the desperate need for relief - but there was always something a bit off about it. She was always just a little...distant. Not vacant, not really, but more like...she was watching from a distance, like a hawk tracks a rabbit before the swoop. He tried not to let it bother him; she was a touch odd, yeah, but he was a guy dressed in womens clothing riding a zombie horse. Glass houses, stones, black pots, etc. Besides, she was nice enough to him, and that was all he really asked.<br/><br/><strong>"I dunno,"</strong>he mused softly, glancing at Rishi. She seemed a bit...flustered by the compliments, and that shift to cover herself up...was she embarrassed and awkward in the good way, or the bad way? He was a flirtatious little whore, he knew himself well enough to know that, but that didn't mean he was inconsiderate. He'd need to dial it back a little until he worked out whether she liked the attention or not, and which comments made her uncomfortable and which ones made her smile. She was a friend, after all, and he didn't want his friends to feel uncomfortable.<strong>"At th' heart've it, yeah, we're all just animals 'n meat and bones and clothes are just another layer like a wolfs fur, yeah? But on the other hand..."</strong>He picked up the edge of his cloak, held it up in two fingers, then let it drop.<strong>"...clothes define us. Or rather, define who people see when they look at us, neh? Clothes c'n help us be whoever we wanna be, help the image people have of us match what we wanna project. Clothes c'n be as good as armour, in the right moments."</strong>Gods knew that he needed clothes to feel comfortable about himself. When he tried to dress more manly, more stereotypically masculine, it just felt...wrong. Like an itch over his body that was impossible to scratch, a restlessness that made him want to claw his own skin off if it meant getting rid of it.<br/><br/>But in more feminine clothing...he felt at home. Like himself. And when dealing with both magic and other people, feeling comfortable with yourself was more important than people sometimes gave it credit for.<strong>"'Sides, clothes can tell ya a lot about the person wearing 'em. Like those fat nobles in their palaces, y'know? Drowning in silks and gold and tacky, garish ornaments. It tells ya that they care more about appearances than function, that they wanna look rich and fancy but don't know what actual <em>taste</em> is. That if he offers to design your bedroom...you should say no."</strong>He laughed at that.<strong>"Besides, Baramos is right."</strong>He shot him a look, dainty eyebrow arched and painted smile curving upwards coyly.<strong>"The right clothes can make the promise look hotter than the act itself. It's all about what the clothing is implying, from a deep cut dress to a short skirt to more...<em>specific</em> costumes. Maybe I'll whip one out for some lucky guys tonight, neh?"</strong>He gave Baramos a wink.<strong>"And if you're passing up that gangbang, Ri, send 'em my way. I'd be more'n happy to oblige 'em!"</strong><br/><br/>He saw one of the more thuggish mercenaries shoot him a quizzical look from the side. Arty caught his gaze, winked and blew him a kiss before returning his attention forwards, towards Myranda with a smile.<strong>"As for <em>you,</em> Myr, you know I love ya. Case in point, you're sexy as hell outta your clothes, but when you wear those leather pants? Woof, you got me reachin' for ice water errytime you walk by. Ri's abs ain't the only thing I wanna gobble up, if ya catch my drift."</strong>He gave her a saucy wink and gave his bottom lip a quick, suggestive lick before he laughed again and shook his head, deep red hair swaying from side to side. He didn't directly comment on Ri's more...awkward comment, deciding instead to stay silent and let his own rabbiting distract from the true meaning - he knew the subject made her uncomfortable - but in an effort to repay the kindness she'd showed him not two minutes before, his hand moved over to rest on Ri's leg, giving it a comforting squeeze. It wasn't lascivious or lustful or suggestive. It was just...companionable, a comforting presence from somebody who understood. Arty knew what it was like to not have a family, to not really belong and have no idea where you came from or why. It was not a life he'd wish on somebody easily, and even if he didn't say it...he wanted Ri to know he understood, and was there for her if she needed it. Outcasts had to stay together, neh?