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Quip

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  1. "You beat Hephaestus at his ain gam? Isnae he th' yin thay ca' th' 'lame' god? Howfur solid cuid that hae bin? Picking oan unfortunates?! PITY OAN YE, KOGA!!!" The heads of several nearby players poked up from behind hedges and gullies, drawn by the sudden and dramatic cry. Nothing said had seemed inflammatory, yet the unpredictable woman had flared from casual chatter to embarrassingly loud outrage in less than five seconds. Her barking accusations set to the local wildlife scampering for cover, her wild eyes daring him to respond in kind. "First ye'r killing babies, 'n' noo ye
  2. Quip's ears perked up. Her head followed, poking up out of the grass like an overly curious marmot, little tufts of sod and reeds sticking out of her tightly braided hair at odd angles. "Psychology? Is that th' yin that hauns oot gear lik' candy, or th' ither yin? Ah kin ne'er remember." Genuine consternation crossed Quip's face as she struggled to reconcile vague recollections, ending only with a shrug and resumed search. "I dinnae ken howfur ye'v managed tae git oot o' toun at a'. Hings seemed tae be getting worse, nae better. Though, ah suppose, thare ur fewer o' us tae treat than
  3. "Freyd's an ah kent that awreedy bahookie , wha wouldn't recognize a feeling if it slapped him o'er th' coupon lik' a drookit fish!" She guffawed loudly, never missing an opportunity to rag on the man. "Bit, aye, he kin an' a' be a gid sort in his ain wey. Juist dinnae ever tell him ah said so." Shuffling over to a small patch of long grasses, Quip poked about between the blades, but failed to find anything of value or interest. A rather startled-looking frog was tossed randomly over he shoulder as she delved into the depths of the foliage without success. "And dinna fash yirsel aboot M
  4. A surprisingly kind and sympathetic smile swept across Quip's features, softening with the appearance of wrinkles around her eyes and creases at the edges of her lips. She'd know the sort of overwhelming emotions that seemed to be plaguing this girl. She's watched her sister die and lost herself to the grief. That sort of thing took its toll, and for all her brutish, over-the-top behavious, Quip had a kind soul. "There, thare, Eddie," she said, patting the taller girl gently on the shoulder. "Freyd's bin a richt, mirk fankle tae, sin he returned. Wilnae blether aboot it wi' a'body,
  5. "What?! Awready? Luck o' th' Scots, ye hae thare, lassie - forgoat th' Irish! 'N' ye kin ca' me Quip," she added, jabbing her sword into a small opening at the base of a nearby tree, scaring the hell out of a pair of squirrels in the process. Once the den was clear, she reached in, almost up to her shoulder, and rummaged around blindly. "Oh, a'm far fae green. Maeve, Dingo 'n' ah wur daein' real weel oan oor ain, up as heich as th' third, if ah recall, whin hings whin sour." A mix of grief and elation flashed across her face as she yanked her arm free, holding a lump of something b
  6. "Yeah! A'm fae th' maist amazing steid oan th' planet! Cannae ferr steid yer accent, though, bonny lassie. Ye keek lik' yin o' thaim bonny russian dancer types, though - a' graceful, 'n' stuff." A full head shorter than both of her companions, Quip seemed completely unintimidated by the difference. She was by far the broadest and most solidly built of the three and grinned like a madwoman as she grasped Kyra's hand and physically dragged the two other players out the main gates. To anyone watching she must have looked like an over-enthusiastic tween dragging a pair of beleaguered paren
  7. "Keek, ah dinnae pure mind whit he said. Some auld fogey accosted me while ah wis traivelin thro' toun 'n' shored me a jab. Ah said aye. Aw the info wur yammered. Bit ah'ament aboot crawling aroond oan mah hauns 'n' knees picking herbs 'n' jobby. Ah will bring ye back something ye kin uise; mibbie git yersel' some blood fae a stane or something, bit ah dinnae pick petals fur a' body!" The clamor was coming from Zackariah's shop, where a short, stout figure in badly battered plate waved her hands around in an agitated manner. Two tight blonde braids bounced around on her back while she
  8. "Howfur oan earth is a'body expected tae survive surroondit by endless hordes o' shambling bodies, while squatting in th' squalor that is this man's shop?!" Quip was on another cleaning tirade. Freyd was off skulking about some dungeon or other, as usual, and Dingo was likely taking his third nap of the day. "A've hud it wi' this jobby. Dingo! a'm aff hoorin'. Dinnae gie th' entire inventory awa'. Speaking o' whilk, a'm taking this, that, 'n' whitevur th' hell this is suppose tae be. Freyd owes us some back pay." Grabbing a few loose items from amidst the seemingly piles of no
  9. A muscled, heavily callused hand grabbed Elora from behind, covering her mouth and whipped the rest of her harshly down into the same muck that had suctioned her foot into the ground. What first resembled one of the shambling diseased humanoids that plague the thirteenth floor surprised her when it spoke. Or, at least, tried to through a set of pearly clenched teeth and Scottish brogue so thick that most could barely understand a word she was saying. "Urr ye trying tae bring doon hauf th' flair oan yersel'. Shut yer gob 'n' wifie up, or ye'r aff tae git us baith murdurred. Ye'r that l
  10. Quip

    Quip's Journal

    "Look 'ere, ye juvenile smurf! Ah'ament yer buddy, 'n' ah'ament yer slave either!. Freyd, Dingo 'n' ah hae beeen spending all oor time 'ere fur ye, fur free! Freyd even supplied th' crafting respites 'n' used up yin o' they bloody event items fur ye. Sae stuff yer wit ye hink, 'n' if yi'll waant someone tae ca' a cheapskate, ah will sell ye a frikkin mirror!" ~Quip ____________________ name morag macleod age 26 gender f origin scotland (uk
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