Clanners wanted

[*Mausman]

A note is jolted at the Bazaar square and inside the smoking Hammer


After having some nice adventure wiv some honorable people ´ere....I be proposing tae form an official clan fer ye lot who be seekin´ a solid group tha ye kin trust.....thick an´ thin.....mayhap even some fellow crafters tae work wiv....

Ye kin write yer name on this ´ere list, t´is basicly meant tae git some social contacts goin´ some tavern nights....some fightin´.....sharin´some good time t´gether......we kin name tha group if ye lot wish, I be open fer suggestions...if nae be up fer this, all fair enoough!

-Kelth McEwan

[*Marek Ovilion]

*He approaches the board, skimming through most, well...all of it, and stops short at the signature slowly sounding out the letters to form a word. He then draws a line with his finger on the board, tracing flame behind it with which he brands his initials; He walks away, assuming Kelth will know the signature not only by initial, but by the manner it was signed*

[*Raneguin]

*Nastasia approaches the sign and reads it over. She takes up a quill and reaches out to write, but is suddenly hit with pain, guilt, emberassment... it doesn't feel right signing up. Her hand shakes for a second...

Then her eyes flash and a smirk crosses her mouth. She leans in and kisses the parchment, leaving a listick mark. Then beside it she writes in fancy cursive*

"I shouldn't have to sign, darling. But I have a better idea for some fun. -N"

*she walks away with a perk in her step for a bit, then her eyes close and she lets out a sigh. Her head hangs low again and she looks back at the note while biting her lip. Then she carries on, walking slowly, the weight of the worlds on her shoulders.*

[*Eandril]

*Karath approaches the parchment and thinks for a bit "Hmm....an enchanting...and smithing ..together to increase ...the income...wise idea" then approaches to write down his name in odd font only githzerai could produce with note added*

"It seems, that our paths..will conjure...for quite a some time"

[*pelhikano]

Nar reads the post. He writes underneath in angular runic-looking letters:

Lad,

ye all be a bunch o' good fer nothin' longlegs, but yer good people nonetheless. I be kiddin' of course, it'd be a great honor ta fight an' drink alongside all o' ye.

Signed,

(here are some dwarven runes)
Nar, Jidr-Amir of Bayt Qazam

________________________________
OOC: funny how Kelth even writes with an accent :P

[*Pashan01]

*Piri scribbles in her spidery scrawl*

Parties and drinking, looting, jinking and plenty of fun, fun fun.....count me in big guy!

You NEED me, I am the best of the best of the best for locks, traps and makin' STUFF with that added sparkle..or I will be...just you wait.

Piri

*she flits off with a self-satisfied nod and a cheeky grin*

[*Wolfsbane]

*Jorn Thunderforge glares over the note, his eyes squinted with the right eye more so than the left one as he mumbles to himself*

"Right, matey. Ay'cannae say tha' yee arrr much o'a sing'rr. Nae e'nuff bellowin' fer my taste an' yee only sing 'boout ale in cafes instea' o' rum on a vessel, but yer tha' only un o'em tha' dun seem tha talk wit' a funny accen'. So wha' tha Hells, yee knoow?"

*Jorn pulls out a finely crafted gilded quill, inscribed with the words "To my husband James". He eyes the inscription and snickers to himself as he shakes his head*

"Nae pen be mightier than me 'arpoon. Yee silly sod..."

*Looking back to the note, he places the tip of the quill to the paper and squints his eyes in concentration. A brief blueish flicker ignites at the tip, but seems to leave no damage to the paper other than the following writing:*

While my ship awaits repairs in the docks, I wouldn't mind accompanying you on your future endevours. May our joint ventures be prosperous.

Your comrade in arms,

Jorn Thunderforge, Captain of the Battle Crow and her Storm Reavers

*Jorn reads his reply over and looks down balefully at the magical quill*

"Yee thrice be damn'd trinket. Cannae yee jus' write like a normal pers'n wud? If Jorn wants tha write about 'ow he 'opes tha 'ave lots of plund'rin' an' lootin' durin' a raid, he dun want yee tha write anything about prosperous joint ventures yee sweet water barnacle!"

*Jorn stuff the quill back in his hip satchel and storms off to the Hammer for a flagon of rum. Thinking of rum his mood changes dramatically as he rambles to himself*

"RRRRRummmm, yar an' plenty o'it... "