Macman253

The sun slowly peeked over the mountains to the west, it's warm glow descending upon the variety of wagons of the Pawfoot clan's camp. In one such wagon, made from the large stump of a felled tree that had been hollowed out and had wheels fixed to all sides. Towed by a team of Oxen, a loose collection of twenty five wagons circled in the field in which the Pawfoot's spent the wet spring months in preparation for the long summer slog to their harvesting fields in the south. A dogs howl pierced the air as it signaled the rise of the sun, followed by the howls of the other nightly sentries. It was this soft howl that woke the young Markas from his sleep. Little more then eight summers old he shot right up as the sentries howled. The air in the wagon was permeated with the scent of soup on the boil and fine, aged cedar, which all the Pawfoot made their wagons of. A small boy by halfling standards, he was lanky, thin of arm and leg but he had striking blue eyes and dark brown hair like his father. In his bed next to him was his companion for life and bond-brother, Fang. The small hound had yet to grow to his full size, and would not so for many years. Unable to burden a rider for another five summers. Fang woke with a sleepy expression on his face which made Markas smile. "Wake up sleepy head." He said as he gave the puppy a pat between the ears and rose from his bed. He fetched the clothes his mother had laid out for him and quickly donned them before she returned. As soon as he tightened his breeches, his mother opened the door to the wagon, in her hand was a variety of garden vegetables all ready to be diced and thrown into the pot for late breakfast. "Good morning Markas." Said Asper, she had long red hair that was like of low dying flames, her dress was of cross knit with blue beads around her neck, on her right forearm was a pawprint tattoo. Customary of all Outriders to bare such a mark upon open flesh for all others to see. Markas smiled wide, showing an array of white teeth. "Good morning mum." He said, Fang barked in greeting before jumping down off the bed, landing in a scrambling pile before standing up and walking to Markas' side. "Mum, it is my an' Fang's name-day. Would it be okay if I went to the pond with Fang before doing my chores?" He asked with a charming grin. Asper smiled and looked to the female hound laying on the bed across from them both. "What do you think Willow? Would you let Fang go with?" She asked curiously, giving the hound a knowing grin. Willow barked in affirmation, Fang's tail began to wag furiously. Asper turned her green eyes to Markas. "More like his father with every passing day." She thought as she nodded to him. "Alright, but be back before mid-day. Your grand-father will wish those chores done before the day is out and he will tan your rear if they are not done." She said with a stern finger-wave at him. Markas nodded, "I swear it shall be done mother." He said, quickly rushing to his boots and lacing them on. Fang diving through the leather flap over the hole in the center of the door, Markas finished lacing his boots and dove through Fangs door instead of going through the door. He rushed down the steps and once his feet hit earth he took off at a run after Fang. The caravan was stationary, the Oxen grazing in a nearby field. Morning had just come and already the Pawfoot Clan was alive and active, the cutting crews were mustering their axes and saws to begin cutting back some of the forest to be loaded onto carts. A small hunting party was waxing bow-strings and sharpening spears, preparing to depart to seek food for the Clan. Their war-mounts being saddled for the hard ride to come, Markas stopped to watch them mount and ride away, at it's head was the Chief Outrider, the only Outrider allowed to bond with a female that isn't also an Outrider. Such is the custom amongst the Pawfoot Clan. Outriders were born to Outriders, Outriders bonded to Outriders. It had been this way since long before the Elder parents of the Elders remembered. Fang growled at Markas, he looked on upon his father, Ripper amongst those to go hunting, seated upon the great Riding Hound was Markas' own father, Grizz. The broad-shouldered warrior looked upon his son and smiled, he had long, dark brown hair and sparkling blue eyes, on the left side of his neck was the Pawprint Tattoo that marked him as an Outrider. He pulled back on Ripper's reigns and guided him over to Markas and Fang. "Don't you have chores to get to son?" He asked curiously. Markas smiled wide, "Mother said Fang and I could go to the pond until midday." He replied. Grizz nodded, gesturing to the pond with his spear. "Then I would hustle... before the other boys take all the best spots." He said, Markas turned on his heel to see Tobin, Fellas and the Springleaf twins running to the pond, all with their pups in tow. Markas took off at a run, Fang quick on his heels. Grizz chuckled quietly as he watched Markas disappear after his compatriots. Markas was breathing hard when he finally made it to the pond, seeing the other boys splashing around in the water. Markas shook off his tunic as he walked to the edge. Fang ran up onto a rock that stuck out of the earth, it's rounded tip made a perfect place in which to dive off from into the cool water, which is exactly what Fang did. He barked as he ran up and howled as he jumped into the water, belly-flopping into the center of the splash war that had been going on. The young halfling followed suit, doing a front flip before tucking his legs in and dropping into the water just behind where Fang landed. Giving the other boys a second wave of water to the face. Laughter and joy rose from the pond. Tobin was much heavier then the other boys, but he was also a few summers older then the rest. His hound, Blackpaw, named so for his white fur but his front-right paw was pitch black was rather bulky for a riding hound. Larger then most, but much like Tobin, not the sharpest knife in the drawer. But what Tobin and Blackpaw lacked in intelligence they made up for in loyal determination and strength. Fellas was the quiet one, he was the middle one, older then Markas but younger then Tobin. Fellas' hound, Blue, named after the grey fur and his blue eyes, sat with him on the bank of the pond. They were quiet but they saw everything, Fellas had already proven himself to be the best marksman out of the young boys, both on foot and the back of a hound. He rarely spoke but when he did it was always truthful and kind. The Springleaf Twins, Gimble and Gramble were quite the opposite of Fellas, they were loud and loved to fight, especially with one another. identical in looks with the exception of a scar on Gramble's cheek where Gimble had struck him with a pinecone from his slingshot a few summers before. Their hounds were Rocky and Sparky, the former was a dark grey with a black chest and a white tuft of hair on his head and the latter bore a beautiful golden coat with a black streak down his spine that came from his chest, in the center was a white dot. Markas popped his head up out of the water and gladly sucked air into his lungs, he laid back in the water and stared up at the orange sky. The water itself was cool and refreshing. He heard voices and splashing as the Springleaf Twins started to argue again, Fellas picked up Blue and walked up onto the rock to avoid being caught in the escalating shoving match between the two brothers. Fang moved to the edge of the pond, his ear perked up as he heard something. He growled low as he stared at the woods. Markas heard it and looked up, "What do you see Fang?" He asked before swimming over quietly. Fang indicated a shrub over-looking the pond. Markas looked up at it, he picked up a rock and stood, "Gimble! Give us your slingshot." he said to the brothers, waving at Gimble to get his attention as he attempted to dunk his brother's face in the water. The orange-haired halfling noticed Markas and nodded, he tossed the slingshot at Markas who caught it deftly and loaded it with the rock. "Show yourself whoever ya' are!" He shouted at the bush before spinning the sling around, he was a good shot with a sling. At that moment the stranger jumped up, his arms in the air to be seen clearly. "Okay!" He shouted, it was a Human. Slender as if he hadn't eaten in days and he wore a torn tunic and breeches. "I am lost, I heard your voices and came to look and see if you could direct me to Waterdeep." He said loud enough for all the halfling boys to hear. Markas looked at Fang, the hound was still growling. Markas saw no lie in his words. But he was too late to see the other Humans descend from their hiding places around the pond, a burly Half-Orc lunged at Fellas and Blue, Markas turned quick and let off a snap shot that struck the Half-Orc in the forehead, laying him out. Then he felt himself pushed under and dragged up by the Human from the upper bank. "Take the dogs, they're worth a fortune... an' the runts too." He said gesturing to the others. Then he felt a solid thwack on his head and darkness fell over his eyes. When Markas woke he wasn't alone, he fumbled around in the dark to find the fleshy body of Tobin. Who was still breathing, Gramble was yelling as he pulled at the cage bars that held them all in. He was freezing, when the cloud in his mind cleared he looked up to see that the sun had gone and night had come. The smell of rank food filled the air, the camp the Bandit's were living in stank of rot and other unmentionable scents. Markas heard Fang's cries and saw that the pups were kept in all the individual cages. One bandit, the Half-Orc now with a bandaged head was trying to force Fang into the cage, Fang was fighting, he hated cages and was never kept in one in his life. From the scratches and bites on the Orc's arms Markas noticed that he ran into a similar problem with the other hounds, who now all barked, howled and growled at the Half-Orc. "Get in there you little rat!" He growled through gritted teeth. Finally he gave up trying to push and instead stood and hauled off with a sharp kick to force Fang inside, Fang yelped in pain. Markas shot up to the bars. "HEY! Don't hurt my brother!" He yelled, "Why don't you pick on someone your size arse-face!" He screamed at the Half-Orc. The angry Orc shot his red eyes to Markas, he kicked the cage over. "He ain't yer' brother he's a feckin' mongrel." He growled in rage then walked away. One of the bandits sitting by the fire spoke up, "Maybe we shouldn't be hurtin' the dogs..." He said, the Bandit that spoke to Markas back at the pond looked up from the pot of soup he was making over the fire. "These are Pawfoot Riding Dogs, they have special magic runes inlaid into their flesh before birth... they live as long as a Halfling and are far more durable then an average mongrel." He said angrily. "So shut yer' yap!" He bellowed at the other Bandit. Markas growled, he hated being stuck in the cage but he noticed that since the Orc kicked over the cage they couldn't see the halflings. Markas turned to Tobin and whispered, "Alright, when I say so... we all put our backs to the roof of the cage and push on the floor with our feet." He instructed, Fellas spoke quietly. "What about Blue and the others?" He asked, a tone of fear and concern in his voice. Markas shook his head, he hated to admit it but he knew that they could not free the others and escape too. Markas said nothing, he looked at Fellas. "We'll just have to hope they didn't carry us far from the camp and we can warn the Outriders fast enough that they can capture these bandits." He replied, much to Fellas' discontent. The young halflings face went white, he nodded silently and went along with the others. Markas could see that the rest shared much of Fellas' sorrow but Markas prayed to Tymora that they would be able to recover Fang and the others before they slipped away to the Black Markets of Waterdeep. Markas inhaled deep and nodded, he put his back to the roof and began to push with all his strength on the floor of the cage. Their combined strength was sufficient enough to break the cage. Tobin and Gramble were the first out, followed by Tellas and Gimble. Markas was last and the first to be spotted. The Half-Orc yelled out as he saw Markas slip out of the cage. "The runts are gettin' away!" He shouted as he raised his crossbow at Markas, but before he could fire a spear took him through the neck. The night air was filled with barking and howling of the Outrider's as they descended upon the camp. Grizz and Ripper leading the charge. Ripper leaped over the fire and tackled the leader of the Bandits, knocking him over the log they used to sit on. Asper and Willow came from the forest behind them, she held her staff over her head and long roots burst from the ground and clamped him down to the earth. One of the bandits raised a crossbow at her only to receive an arrow through the eye as Fellas' father, Quintas skirted the camp while straddling Hurk, the grey-brown mastiff. Markas cheered as the rest of the bandits ran into the forest, chased after by the others, Tobin's father and Maryl, Gimble and Gramble's mother. Asper jumped from the back of Willow as the hound slid to a stop before them, she quickly took Markas up in a hug. Tobin and Fellas started smashing the locks on the cages to let out the dogs while Grizz stepped off Ripper's saddle and took up the spear offered by Quintas. Laying face down in the door, the roots still holding him was the leader, Grizz knelt down beside him. "What is your name?" He asked firmly, The human chuckled and sighed. "Benjamin." He replied, Grizz nodded and stood, taking the spear up, a hand on the end and the tip aiming straight for Benjamin's head. "For the crime of stealing our children I sentence you to death... for the crime of stealing the pups.. I sentence you to death." He said coldly, Benjamin's eyes went white as he tried to plea with Grizz. "They were just mutts!" He said, hoping that it would stop Grizz from ending his life. It was a wasted effort.

Markas pulled at the neck of the Halfling-sized black dress coat he had purchased with the stipend he was given. He scratched at the seat of the fresh pair of trousers that didn't quite agree with his left leg. His shoes however were still the cobbled together wreck they had always been, the store where he had purchased his dress coat and trousers did not have a suitable pair of shoes to match for a Halfling, so he had to use what was available to him, which in a town this size there wasn't many of his kind milling about. Fang too had a new collar, a fine etched leather with silver studs and the Tymoran Coin fixed to it upon Markas' request, a tradition among Outriders. The Mastiff sat next to him at a table near the rear of the main hall. Markas missed the comfortable feel of his day-to-day gear but Human weddings were always a dress-up affair. He had never been to one before but he had heard many tales from travelling newlyweds as they moved to their new homes or returned to homes left behind. Fang looked up at a plate of finger-food that was being passed around by the servers. His tail wagging happily. Markas watched hungrily as it passed in front of him. He felt his stomach growl and he looked at Fang, who returned the glance. "Let's see what they got on the big table." He said, waving for the hound to follow. Fang stood up and followed Markas as he navigated his way through the sea of Big Folk legs, Fang right behind him as they traced their way, like explorers hacking their way through some vast forest. Several patrons were startled by the sudden appearance of a Halfling with a large Hound in tow, and even once Fangs tail caused quite the misunderstanding when it twacked against a woman's rump, she promptly turned around and slapped a unsuspecting man for what she must have thought was a cheeky grope of her behind. Markas didn't see the encounter and Fang was too busy tracing his nose along the floor, leaving a slippery trail of drool as the two made their way to the buffet table. After their little misadventure moving through the crowd they successfully found it, Markas' eyes beamed with delight and hunger at the vast array of food available to them. He felt his mouth water as he saw the Squash Fritters and Veil Cakes. The sweet smell of fine wine came to his nose. Fang fixed his eyes on the Roasted Piglet and Lamb Shanks. Markas immediately sought after a stool, fortunately there was one nearby enough and he rushed to acquire it. He placed it near the Roasted Piglet and stood upon it. The attendant looked at the Halfling warily. "May I cut for you Little Master?" Asked the grey haired human. Markas nodded. Holding up two fingers to signal he wished two portions. One for himself and one for Fang. The elderly attendant did as asked and laid the pieces on a plate for him. Markas spent the next few minutes pestering the Attendant to fill the plate for him seeing as how he could not reach most of the food without climbing onto the table, a decision he figured would be seen as rude. After several orders Markas came down with two plates filled with food, one made up of Lamb, Pork, Beef and Chicken for Fang and his own was covered in buns, cakes, fish and sausages. Markas placed the plate down and Fang went to work, devouring his way through the mountain of meat while Markas took up a human sized glass of Wine that looked like a bottle outright in his own hand. He sat upon the stool and ate ravenously, trying to remember the time he had ever had so much food in one sitting.

Markas, dug him out of the hallowed pages of this forum lol. I mostly did some editing, fixing words etc. Only thing I really changed is the bow, Markas acquired a hand crossbow to replace his short bow. Name: Markas Goblinsfoe Race: Lightfoot Halfling Age: 23 Class: Ranger/Rogue/Halfling Outrider Alignment: CG Deity: Tymora Place of Origin: Faerun (Nomadic halfling clan) Appearance: Markas is about four feet tall, he has green eyes lightly tanned skin with shaggy dark brown hair that appears to not have been cut for several months. He wears it in a ponytail to keep it out of his face. He has a small scar on his chin and a few others on his body from his wanderings. He is lithe and muscular from his travels and he has a pawprint tattoo on his neck. Fang, Markas' mount and companion is a large black Mastiff with a white spot on his chest and long droopy jowls and ears. He constantly slobbers, he wears a thick leather collar with small studs in the leather. His saddle is custom made to fit Markas and it has saddlebags containing the bedroll, tent and other camping materials along with clothing and other odds and ends. Armor/Clothing: Wears a studded leather jerkin with a blue and green kilt that he has converted into a makeshift poncho. He wears leather greaves and tall riding boots with metal plates fastened to the shins to protect them when he is riding. He has metal bracers to protect his forearms and a longsleeved undershirt made of cotton. His shirt has various cloth patches that were hastily sewn on to repair rips and tears. Weapon: Hand Crossbow, Shortsword and dagger in his boot along with a buckler (for him it's a shield) along with a short spear which he keeps along with his quiver on Fang's saddle. Magical Equipment: With the exception of his Tymoran coin which brings him good luck he possesses a Cloak Of Resistance made from an old adventurers prized Kilt which Markas fashioned into a poncho-like cloak. He has also mounted a bag of holding which he uses as saddlebags and an efficient quiver in which he keeps his crossbow, spear and arrows. Personality: Markas is at heart a child. He is young and brash, taken to riding into the enemy on the back of his Mastiff slashing with his sword or flanking and raining arrows into the enemy. He enjoys drinking and eating and carousing as much as any other halfling and boasts that he knows hundreds of drinking songs. He is well traveled and speaks several languages beyond Common, including Dwarvish, Orcish and even Sylvan. Markas has a tale for every scar (most often embellished into complete fabrication) and is a competent storyteller. Due to his wanderlust he often travels with trade caravans and pilgrims and it has given him a cheerful demeanor. He is a devotee of Tymora and his lucky gold coin is mounted on Fang's collar, something many Outriders did. He has an intense love of 'The Road' and often speaks of it like it were a woman, often remarking on it with nicknames like 'Bonny Lass' or 'Beautiful' but that does not stop him from whistling or winking at Halfling women he encounters. Markas prides himself on his cooking, he often forages for his own meals and takes vast pride in his own independence. Likes: Food, stories, songs and a good brawl. Dislikes: Authority, being tied down, being in one place for too long, Followers Of Beshaba, Goblins and Bandits. Fears: Losing his mount and best friend, Imprisonment and The Undead. Attitude Towards Strangers: Friendly, unless they look suspect in case of which he is friendly but cautious. Otherwise he is usually very open, often engaging in conversation with them. Attitude Towards Friends: Markas is very loyal to his friends, coming to their aid in battle and siding with them in arguments or disputes. Opinion Of The World: "Life is a journey, you never know where you are destined until you reach it. It's best to enjoy every mile and adventure along the way." History: Markas was born into a nomadic Lightfoot Halfling clan that traveled about Faerun. At a young age he dreamed of becoming an Outrider, the dog-mounted warriors and scouts of the clan. His father was one such Outrider and their Captain. He gave Fang, a Mastiff to Markas when he was of age to begin his training. Markas and Fang were inseparable during his youth, and when Fang had been properly trained and was large enough he and Markas quickly became one of the best warriors in the clan. Markas earned the name Goblinsfoe during an ambush in which he rallied the strewn out Outriders and lead a counterattack that broke the Goblin ranks and sent them fleeing. He left the clan not long after when he met a band of mercenaries. They spoke of their tales and the battles they fought. This made Markas and his victory over the Goblins seem small in comparison and asked to join them. They readily accepted and he parted ways with his clan and joined the Black Ravens mercenary company. It was the best time of his life and for five years he fought alongside them until the Black Ravens were betrayed and slaughtered in an ambush. Grimgor, the Half-Orc had sold them out to a group of bandits, Markas and Fang survived, but barely. They were discovered by a group of adventurers after the battle, they had witnessed the fight and took Markas and Fang to Temple Of Tymora where they were healed. When Markas came to he discovered that his saviors had vanished and he was left in the care of the priests. During his recovery he got close to the priests, many of them ex-adventurers and wanderers, they spoke of their lives and in the few months he stayed with them he came to love the wanderer way of life, a Human named Hurbald gave him his lucky Tymoran coin as a parting gift. It took another three months but Markas tracked down the outlaw Grimgor and in the dead of night he crept into the Half-Orc's camp, tied a rope around his feet and drug him back to the village to claim the bounty on the bandits head. Rid of the murdering Orc he took to wandering, encountering a variety of people and places and adventures, joining several trade caravans and pilgrims he plied his skills wherever he could but would move on shortly afterwards.

I have wanted to return to Markas since I before I made Kellak, he was my absolute favorite. It was everything about him. He was social enough to engage, I could still bounce off Fang (my unofficial second character) and he was plucky enough it made it fun to RP. He is a wanderer and I think enough time has passed for him to *cough* 'stumble' upon the gang after getting lost in the desert. Markas has a tendency to follow his feet, so he can sorta get away with coming in and out. From here on out, consider him my preferred character, I would very much like to return to RPing him. If you all are okay with me pseudo resurrecting him.

Thanks Grue, I didn't remember that offer and now I will. Expect many messages lol. I am not familiar with Forgotten Realms, I often played Pathfinder and when it was 3.5 I always had the same group and our DM used his own custom universe. So I am up to date on table top rules, just not lore because we never really had to jump into the Faerun books or the Greyhawk ones etc. But to be fair, I have always gotten the sense, especially over the last while that ya'll really didn't want me to communicate with you. Look... I am used to having issues with people on the internet, I am not good at it. I can write a story, but I can't talk to people. Not like I can in person. And I fear coming to you because I might trip yall up and end up getting tossed out. Like seriously, I get this cold reaction from all of you and it really makes me feel like you are just waiting for me to screw up so you can be rid of me. I am not sure if that is the truth or just paranoia, trust me I hope that it is the latter I really do. But the largest reason I never come to you, is because I do not know what will happen when I do. I open the Roleplaying tab I have and go "What did I do wrong today?" It is literally like that for me. I want to be included, but I have been getting seriously mixed signals.

I looked for data Auri, I did. Found nothing. Like all I could find was a small section on the Forgotten Realms wiki and it revealed nothing. And if you read the entry in Half Orc and Half Elf in 3.5 they mention a lack of love for them both. Half-orc moreso. Look I know I had to flurb my way past that but the truth has already been said here. Sparrow had no IC reason to be there unless he was going to use the gala as a way to case the place. Makes sense if you are a thief. And since everyone was occupied with the Gala, he could have moved in and snagged a few items while he slipped through to the main event. Its simple, un complicated. a 2 or 3 post thing and he would have been RPing with the rest of you no problem and made up for the gold he lost. But, Josh went off the guidelines. I understand through group consent so I am not picking on him. I never got a message telling me the intent, he just dropped a Godmod and let me walk right into it. Never gave me the chance to get away, or try to escape. This is what I am saying here. Communication is essential. And I left the ToF group not because it was boring but because I had been removed from the RP and I figured it made no sense to still be in the ToF group. It was after the whole Lokii incident. When I came back, I never got invited again so I figured you either dissolved it or weren't using it anymore. But Josh said you were having group discussions so I figure you are still using it. Like I said, I have no problem with Sparrow, It was a logical conclusion, you always run the risk of capture. But, I had no data on Furthinghome, I couldn't find anything. It literally was this small article on Forgotten Realms Wiki and it gave me practically nothing. And since you all hadn't established anything with them, I figured they would show in my encounter. Sparrow never had a bad run in with the guards. He just saw Furthingharrow and figured it was because of the nobility. A slums only really forms when the township does not care or cannot afford to support them. That and Sparrow was a jackass, he had a huge chip on his shoulder for authority and he was taking it out on them by stealing in the name of the poor. It was never about the poor, it was about getting one back at the rich. All I am saying is I would greatly appreciate some kind of hard knowledge of what I can and cannot do. Or what can be done with permission. I do not want to trip up these little Rule Mines by accident and end up screwing up again. Most my toons stick pretty close, look at Markas, or Kellak. Never had a problem with either of them, or if you did you never voiced it. See, this is the thing. It never gets brought up to me. The door is open, if you have a problem or have a correction you think I should take tell me and it will be addressed. But don't let it set, then fester and then sling it against me when s*** like this happens. It's totally unfair when you could have simply remarked on it and it would have been handled. This all goes back to that, Communication. So please, work with me.

So I am in the doghouse having to double check everything I do just because It might lead to a disaster when it can be simply said 'Hey, dont do this' and it will get corrected. As I said before, it was not a solo adventure. Sparrow had no IC reason to join the gala, it was going to be a 2 post thing at max. Sneak in, get the gold and join the Gala. Blink of an eye, he would be RPing with the others in no time. But you had to drag it out into this long thing. The thing is I was never given formal rules of what is and what isn't acceptable. As you said, I never actually broke any rules and I am not arguing with the logical course, The intent does matter, because the intent was to have one micro excursion so I could come into the fold logically. But I am not the one that shut that down with godmodding. You didn't bother to communicate. I understand you have no reason to show faith, but if I had known that I had to ask permission before I went solo before all of this happened I would have. But there is no clear rules on it. Like I said before and will say again. Communicate clearly, this could have all been avoided if that was done. And for the record, I would greatly appreciate forewarning about group decisions. I know I am likely to be an perpetually on probation RPer here but I would consider it a courtesy if I was atleast allowed to know BEFORE the ruling was made what was being discussed, when it comes to group effort. I'd like to post collaborations, I'd like to get involved but so long as I am on the outside I am doomed to fail again. You have to show a little trust, I am willing to cooperate but I cannot read minds and unless you speak clearly as to what you do and do not like before it is done. If that had been done, this and many other situations like this would have been avoided. The question I am asking now is do yall even want me here? Like at all... because if you keep me out of the loop and then only telling me about the rules AFTER I break one I am bound to f*#@ up to the point where yall kick me out. So, I just want clarification as to the truth here. I am not a mind reader people, if you want results you have to pay in. You have to work with me on this, I love the RP here I really do and I don't want to go but if yall are just setting me up for the fall then I see no point in continuing. So, what are the things I can do on my own, cannot do on my own and can only do with permission because at this point I am just as confused about the rules as I always have been. Yall solo post too, and noone gets called on it but me. I always figured I just said something wrong, I never got a clear 'No, this is how it should be done.' I always got a 'No mac, don't solo run.' while you all did it with impunity. That was the reason I left, because I felt I was being held to a separate and unfair standard then the rest and I didn't know why. So now I am formally laying it out, I want to know what the limits are in full details because I don't want this stuff to happen again and I know you all don't either. So lets sit down, hash this out and move on.

What I dont get is why do you delete the character by force if I havent broken any rules? Sparrow has no ties to the previous RP's so I had to get him to the gala somehow, You pulled this whole thing without letting me meet up. The intent was to in two posts, slip in, grab the gold then go to the gala itself and RP with the others. But did you ask me? No... you just assumed I was going on some random path and acted without asking me, messaging me or alerting me. I never got a message, no warning. Trust me I know what I have done in the past was bad but you basically Godmodded this without asking what my intents were. If you had asked, I would have told you. But no, you didn't ask. I am willing to change any post, correct anything you ask but you have to ask. I can't read minds and I do not have links to any group place where I can be included in the discussion. I can't go finding this because I do not know where it is. You have kept me as a complete outsider in this and when I do something remotely outside of YOUR comfort zone, you drop the sword of damocles on me. I know that I deserve to be under it, but I would at least like a fighting chance here. Doing this and then saying it was a group decision doesn't come across well. I think its fair if I am at least invited to the group so I can correct the issue at hand. IF I had known you'd do this, I would have altered the original post accordingly and it would never have happened. I will reroll this character this time, but I would very much appreciate to be included in group discussions. Is it too unfair to ask that? Edit for clarification: I keep an open door policy, if you have a problem with ANY post of mine. Let me know and I will work with you to make it appropriate. You don't have to create these rules. We can avoid situations like this by communicating. I got not communications so I assumed it was tolerated and I further participated assuming it was a tolerated post. I do not want to piss yall off, I don't want to give you reason to do this. I am trying on my end and willing to keep trying. But this is a give and take thing. I can't read minds people, please. Work with me and I will work with you.

Wind snored loudly on his Chantry provided cot, the empty wine bottle lay on the floor beside him. When one of the Templar's from before grew tired of the Elf's disruptive snoring he entered his room and woke the elf with a boot to his leg. "Wake up." Instructed the Human sternly. Wind snapped away, his eyes hung low. He shook off the tired eyes so he could see the Silverite framed human. "What?" He asked the Templar. The Knight grabbed the bottle and looked at the label then gestured for the Elf to get up. "It's morning, time for you to go." Wind rolled his eyes and stood and slid his Crow-Blade into the sheath on his hip and departed the Chantry. When he was outside the first thing he did was yawn and stretch before making his way to the stables where he kept a spare bottle of wine in his saddlebags.

Sparrow ran a hand through his hair and chuckled, "Well then, the stark reality is again lost on another noble son." Sparrow stepped forward and smiled. "Truth is I was hear to steal from those who had already stolen from another. But since those loyal citizens who pay taxes aren't noble born and the thieves are the very guards you pay to punish and abuse them under the guise of protection are the thieves I thought it right to take something back and give it to their victims." He said before gesturing in the direction of Furthingharrow. "Have you walked in Furthingharrow my Lord?" He asked with a tone of contempt, "People are starving... out of work and in constant fear of the people that are supposed to protect them." He gestured to the Human. "I could never break into the guards barracks and steal their payroll so I figured I'd take something from them when I could." Sparrow moved forward slowly and crossed his arms, "You see Marshal, when the people see your men on the streets beating a peasant or some other such person and then robbing him of what little gold he has they see you. Not the ones responsible." He added before glancing back towards the door, his ears picking up the steady footsteps of three individuals. "I understand Thay is currently a threat to Aglarond, but to them.. living in the streets and hovels they don't care if Thayan troops come marching here, butchering you and your men and the rest of the aristocracy..." He shrugged, "To them, it's just one group of stronger Tyrants killing another group of weaker ones. One oppressor for another." Sparrow grumbled and looked him dead in the eyes. "I presume you are an honorable man, as I presume all whom I meet are... but if a man had only one coin to his name and a Guard presumed to beat him and take it would you stop him? Or would you let it happen simply because the man who possessed the coin wasn't of noble birth?" Said the elf with a curious tone, "You stand in judgement yet you do not know the facts... I have taken nothing, surely my intent was to steal but it wasn't to steal from you or anyone else here. My intent was to take as many coins as I could from the guards payroll, guards that do not exist by the way. Clever trick, hiding the security of this event. Fooled even me, which is rare to be true. But then again a humble thief like myself could never guess the why-fors or the how-to's with Mages." Sparrow stepped back a little. "The only crime I have committed has been trespassing. And I plead guilty to that, how can I not? I am standing here in no possession of an invitation. But, as to the charge of intent to steal I have committed no such act. I was merely attempting to recover stolen property and return it to those who had it stolen from them. If you wish to punish thieves, I suggest you seek out the real thieves responsible my Lord." Sparrow said in conclusion with a slight smirk and a shrug.

Sparrow strode along with the twin Golems quietly, he looked around at the architecture as they walked. The Half-Elf glanced to the back of the Golem in front of him and then to the one behind him as he kept pace, he wanted to make sure they had no reason to push or shove him. He turned his attention back to the first Golem. "So... were you made from pots and pans they found in the rubbish pile?" He said with a sly smirk, he knew the Golems would have no real opinion but he hated awkward silences. He heard the mass of chatter from the patrons of the wedding he had planned to avoid, he hated the over the top lifestyle of the nobility. Sparrow thought of himself as a man of taste and he never once saw a nobleborn with a modicum of taste. They wore the ugliest clothes simply because it was the trend. He saw the waste of gold, how they practically threw it away on everything they could possibly justify themselves to throw it away on. He imagined a human king with a gold crown pouring a jar of gold coins into a sink hole and laughing as he did so. His mind flashed back to his initial arrival in Furthinghome and his walk through Furthingharrow. He saw families living under eaves to stay out of the rain. The roads in Furthinghome were clean by comparison, Furthingharrow stank of filth and rot, the roads were mud and the housing was made of old rotted wood. Multiple families lived in the same shack just to pay the land-lease while the adults starved due to inability to feed themselves and their children. Sparrow had seen much in his life, he counted the many blessings of Tymora he had received as he strode out of Furthingharrow. A truly gods-forsaken place if he had ever seen one. He shook his head as he snapped out of the hard memory and came to just as they turned a corner to what would likely be the nobleborn son who would take a single look at Sparrows pointed ears and toss a rope around his neck for daring to steal a few coins from those who had too much to give to those who had nothing at all.

Wind downed the strong alcohol and took the bottle with him as he wiped his lips with his sleeve. "Atleast he didn't call me Knife Ear." He grumbled as he followed. Wind glanced over his shoulder at Abraham and gave him a nod of farewell before departing. As the Templar and Celeste spoke Wind put the bottle to his lips several times but he was silent for the walk. He looked around nervously, a feeling of uneasiness came about him. He walked with a Mage and several Templars towards the Chantry. A place where few who had such a dubious history with the Chantry ever walked away from when escorted there by Templars. When he was showed his room he laid down on the bed, took a final swig from the bottle and set it on the floor next to the bed. "Well, it has a roof and something that could be described as a bed.." The elf pressed down on the mat, "...if it were at a distance." He added before closing his eyes and nodding off with one of his Crow Blades gripped in his hand as it lay across his chest while he slept.

Sparrow stopped in his tracks, he shrugged nonchalantly. "Fair enough... I was beginning to wonder why this place was so poorly secured." The Half-Elf stepped forward, "To be fair, I wanted nothing else but the payroll for the guards. If that is to influence your masters decision." He stated as he stopped well out of arms reach but kept his hands in view. He felt a lightning bolt of embarassment at how easily he was caught but he knew that he could not go toe to toe with a Golem, let alone two. He knew his best way out of this wasn't with strength but with charm... and if that failed it would be down to quick thinking and long legs. "I go willingly and without resistance..." He said and gestured for the Golems to lead the way, he was not going to give the Face In The Wall the satisfaction of bumrushing him off the estate.

Sparrow smiled lightly at the Genasi's words. He was no bare knuckle brawler, he preferred a more larcenous career. The Half-Elf sighed and looked up at the estate, the walled villa was indeed fabulous but ultimately this was child's play for a thief. "People of wealth often underestimate greed." He thought as he ducked out of the line where his companions waited to enter the gala event. He drew up his face mask and his hood as he slipped around to the southern side of the wall. His objective was the paybox for the guards, the very guards that oppress the denizens of Furthinghallow. He sought no other coin then the very coin that went to pay the brutes that were supposed to uphold the law but to Sparrow's mind did nothing but break it with impunity. Tonight they would be on their very best behavior due to the nobility being present but tomorrow they would resume their lawlessness. These were the thoughts that fueled the flame in his heart as he deftly scaled the wall, first he leaped up and gripped a crack that had yet to be patched on the stone wall. Sparrow fitted his thin fingers into it and planted his feet against the stone firmly, when he was sure of his grip he began to climb. Gripping the edges and walking up the wall like a two-legged spider. It took him a few minutes due to the fact that he had to go slow so as to raise little noise but when he got to the top of the wall he peaked his eyes over. The Gala itself produced an intense amount of light which thankfully cast a shadow over much of the courtyard. Guards patrolled it sparsely thankfully this is due to most of them were currently at the gate taking invitations. Sparrow saw his opportunity and climbed over the wall, dropping to the grass below with a soft *THUD* he kept low and made his way in a arched pattern through the courtyard, stopping in cover where he can to take a quick look around before moving on. He heard the whistling of a lone Guard as he walked along the courtyard. A lamp in his hand and a cudgel in the other. Sparrow dropped down beside a small hedge, the guard walked the gravel path that ran around the courtyard gardens. When Sparrow knelt the guard looked towards his direction. "Who goes there?" Asked the human guard to the darkness. Sparrow silently cursed to himself, after a few moments the guard turned to resume his route. "Must be imaginations." He said to himself. Now that Sparrow was closer he saw the human well, he was an older man, likely too old for other work then this. Sparrow sighed, he wished no harm on an old man but he felt he must continue. When the elderly guard had passed Sparrow stood, he bent low and ran across the gravel path, careful not to dig in his toes to run across them silently. He glanced over his shoulder to see the guard resting on a bench far away, now sure he would not likely encounter another passing guard he crept on, making his way to the wall of the main house and where he could start his search.

Wind groaned as he came to. He slowly rose to his feet, swaying back and forth slightly. He felt his head pound like a Darkspawn War Drum. He shook his head clear just in time for the Templars to ensnare Celeste and surround Abraham and himself. The Elf raised his hands in the air, "Why is it wherever I go I end up on the bad side of the Chantry?" He asked Abraham with a sly smirk and a chuckle. When the Lieutenant took control of the situation Wind breathed a sigh of relief as the Templar lowered the sword aimed at his chest. "We are the only survivors of that expedition. We came to Redcliffe to speak with our mutual employers and inform them of the fate of our recently deceased compatriots." He glanced at the dazed Celeste, "Some of us lost far more then wages.." He added as he spoke to the Lieutenant. Wind lowered his arms as he suddenly realized he had not lowered them when the Templar stowed his blade, the Elf began to rummage around behind the bar and came up with a bottle of Orelsian Red Wine. He popped the cork with his teeth and found a nearby glass that had survived the recent brawl and poured himself a tall glass.