Creature answers the boy's question about his fighting style:

"Creature...hit......Creature...hit..HARD"

"Heavy handth, huh?  A sthtriker?" replies Darryl eagerly.  "What about thubmissions?  How'th your ground game?"

"Ground...game?...Put...them..in..ground.......Game..over"

Quote"Sir," Quazarn snaps, "if we are to have a successful adventuring partnership, you will kindly keep your hands off my head."

Buck grins at Quazarn, "I'm just ribbing you bud, relax."

Quote"Ground...game?...Put...them..in..ground.......Gam e..over"

"This is the main event right here, son", he pats the Creature on the shoulder....I'm the manager", and then he gestures to the party, "..... and your looking at the best trainers for the "Big Brawl" since Grubby Lugnut took out "The Mortician" in a Venusian Cage Match with an upper cut in the 1st round."

Quote"Sir," Quazarn snaps, "if we are to have a successful adventuring partnership, you will kindly keep your hands off my head."

Buck grins at Quazarn, "I'm just ribbing you bud, relax."

Quote"Ground...game?...Put...them..in..ground.......Gam e..over"

"This is the main event right here, son", he pats the Creature on the shoulder....I'm the manager", and then he gestures to the party, "..... and your looking at the best trainers for the "Big Brawl" since Grubby Lugnut took out "The Mortician" in a Venusian Cage Match with an upper cut in the 1st round."

Quote"Sir," Quazarn snaps, "if we are to have a successful adventuring partnership, you will kindly keep your hands off my head."

Buck grins at Quazarn, "I'm just ribbing you bud, relax."

Quote"Ground...game?...Put...them..in..ground...... .Gam e..over"

"This is the main event right here, son", he pats the Creature on the shoulder....I'm the manager", and then he gestures to the party, "..... and your looking at the best trainers for the "Big Brawl" since Grubby Lugnut took out "The Mortician" in a Venusian Cage Match with an upper cut in the 1st round."

Buck's voice crackles with electromagic interference as another temporal ripple courses through him, causing him to repeat his words a third time.  

"You musthta picked up a sthtatic charge on the tram," Darryl suggests.

(Ha!  Brilliant!)

In a true Kodak moment, Quazarn deci- uh, is fully aware that, since he has no freaking idea how this stuff works, he'd best keep his damn yap shut and let Rondo drive.

However, he does stand beside Creature, looking cool, tough and self-assured.  

[I just rolled a 47 (compared to my Crowd Manipulate score of 70%) to impress upon Darryl that we know what we're doing.

Which I'm not sure we really do.

 It occurs to me that I could try Psychic Implant to give Darryl the idea, 'Theesh guyths are hardcore!', but at 18%?  Maybe later.  Plus, who knows how much pull Darryl has here?]

Noting the conehead's easy confidence and charismatic grooming Darryl nods to Quazarn, "That'th some good crowd-work there, get the cheap theats on your side.  But there'th no crowd at the Brawl, and no corner-men either.  Everyone fightsth.  If you aren't there to fight you don't get in."

You get the impression that Darryl wouldn't mind talking about the Brawl for hours and  hours, but instead he leans towards the four of you, his voice low.  "You guyth better go talk to Mother now.  Um.  I wanted to warn you, she's pretty pisthed off.  She doesthn't like talking about my Dad too much.  But you guyth should be okay."

He isn't entirely convincing, but as he holds open the door his voice brightens.  "Hey, I'll get my gi and bokken and maybe we can sthpar after!"  Darryl's rooms are cluttered with books and holographs: self-defense manuals, medieval romances, a multiple volume history of Haragorn.  Fight posters and heraldic banners cover the walls.  

He leads the four of you to another iron-bound door.  An enormous crown is carved into the dark wood.

[Up next: Darryl's H.A.W.T. Mom!]

[Hope everyone is enjoying the weekend.  Next proper update tomorrow afternoon or evening.  Speak up if you have any questions for Darryl, preparations to make, etc]

Beyond the crown-carved door a stone stairway curves into darkness.  You descend with only a glimmer of light below to guide you.  An arch at the foot of the stairwell leads into a high-ceilinged cavern lit by the glow of witch-fire from a reading lamp.  The lamp illuminates a large open book, an inkpot and a quill.  Dark shadows hide most of the cavern from view, and a heavy odor of cinnamon and musk hangs in the still air.

For a moment all is quiet save the sound of your own breathing.  Then with a metallic gong a platemail cuirass bounces from the shadows to land at your feet.  It's clear the armor was crafted with skill--skill matched only by the fury with which it was destroyed: holes are punched through the breatsplate and backpeice as if it were skewered by many spears, and the entire cuirass is blackened and corroded.  

A deep voice speaks from the shadows, a rumbling growl shaped into words,

"Who claims to be the hatchling's father?  Who claims the armor my lover wore when I slew him?"

Creatures takes a look at the book at quil (from where he's standing).  If it looks to be a guest register he'll go over and sign.

"Three seconds 'til showtime, Buck."

[Planning something Quazarn?  Something has successfully Seen the Future.]

Quote from: wulfgar;247873Creatures takes a look at the book at quil (from where he's standing).  If it looks to be a guest register he'll go over and sign.

Well what does it look like to a frankenstein of Creature's intellectual capabilities?  Roll Scholarship.