(I'm Chrono_Catfish on the RPG World forum)

A lone traveller walked into the pub. He surveyed the people there and... tripped and fell over (not from exhaustion, from clumsiness). His traveler's cloak was stained with... barbecue sauce, apparently. On his belt were a clumsily sheathed sword that looked like it had seen many battles (Not from blood, from rust). He pulled himself to his feet, and realised that his cloak was caught on the door. After much pulling, he liberated himself, not to mention a sizeable part of the door, whick he promptly tripped over again. Shrugging, he took off the tattered cloak and hung it up, a piece of the door still hanging from it.

"Yo. I'm Flake Kingham. I don't have to pay for the door, do I?"

Flake didn't receive an immediate answer, and in a moment his eyes were drawn to the counter of the pub, where some sort of argument was taking place.

It was the kind of argument wherein people say things to each other, but they say them loudly because they're angry. Also they can't seem to agree on very much of anything. You know the kind.

The participants of the dispute were someone behind the counter, most likely an employee, or owner, of the pub, and a black robe topped off by a *kasa*, or lighly sloping conical hat, made of straw. All in all, the assemblage of clothing was no more than two feet tall, and was standing on the counter. The cloak and the hat were very angry about something. "What do you MEAN the position's not open?" they said. "You said it would be open when I got here!"

The man behind the counter spoke. "I said I thought it would be open. We didn't have a contract, or a promise, or a deal. I was wrong, and I'm sorry. But such is business. The man I hired asks for less money."

"Oh, I see!" said the cloak and the hat. Then the cloak extended a finger, opening the possiblity that there was in fact a person inside the clothing. "Money, is it?" The small person inside the cloak calmed a bit. "Perhaps you would at least TRY my cooking before you decide to turn me away so rashly?"

"Will you work for less?"

"No. But if you'll taste lust a little sample, you'll agree-"

"Sorry. No budget for it."

The figure inhaled sharply, but calmed again. "As you say, such is business. I respect your decision, from a practical perspective if not a professional one. Goodbye." He hopped down from the counter and walked to the door, only to bump into Flake. The figure fell backwards and peered at Flake through the shadow of his hat.

"Er... Hello."

OOC: I know it's a little long, but I wanted to get it out of the way. By the way, please don't assume you know who or what my character is before he introduces himself. I don't want to sound full of myself or anything, but if you did it would take away some of my ability to make my character my own. Thanks! (As the title suggests, I'm new to this forum too.)

"Huh?" said Flake, looking down at the small figure.
"Bit short, are you?" he joked, then turned around to his cloak.
"Hmm..." he said to the inkeeper. "A piece of your door appears to have somehow been caught on my cloak. I wonder how that would happen, it was certainly by no fault of mine." he lied.
"Yep," he made the mistake of continuing, "Nothing could possibly incriminate me, because whatever witnesses saw me break the door- which didn't happen, you understand- must have been too drunk to realise that I DIDN'T accidentally break the door when trying to liberate my cloak. So any misconceptions of this sort will no doubt resolve themselves, as I had no part in anything involving the braking of doors, and don't have to pay for damages to the one I broke- didn't break, didn't break, slip of the tongue there."
Flake paused uncertainly, taking a breath.
"So I'll just be on my way then."

The small figure picked himself up and looked at Flake. *What an odd person,* thought the figure. *Not in a bad way, exactly, but... Well, he seems to be the right type of person, and now that I have nowhere to stay...*

He tugged on Flake's cloak. It wasn't the most dignified gesture, but it was generally useful in getting people's attention, and rather better received than, say, kicking them in the shin or leaping up to meet their face. Flake looked down as he was starting to leave.

"Uh... Hi," said the figure. "The name's Lowell. You wouldn't happen to be some sort of... wanderer or adventurer or treasure hunter or idon'tknow something like that?"

"You're in luck, for you've stumbled upon Flake Kingham, experienced adventurer!" Flake said, flourishing his sword and getting it stuck in the wall. He ignored this, and said
"Why do you ask?" with a tone off voice to imply '-and is there any treasure in it for me?'

Lowell brightened. "I'm looking for stores of treasure. The more dangerous the better." He glanced at the sword sticking in the wall. "Heh. Well, I'm good at dispelling curses, so as long as there's no... jumps... or anything... we should be... fine. My cut of the treasure would be, oh, fifteen percent."

Flake kept something of a poker face at this. Lowell continued. "I'm a cook, by the way. That doesn't mean all I can do is cook, though. I have some cooking attacks that might come in handy, and I can learn blue magic too." He removed his hat to reveal a face covered with light green fur and topped with a pair of floppy rabbit ears. "I'm good at healing, too. I'm a lagomorph, you see. You know, losing spin on Slot? Mugu mugu?" Lowell paused. "Well, it's not important. I can cook and I can fight and I can remove curses and you get eighy-five percent. Interested?" He put his hat back on, but tilted it back to show his face.

"Sounds good." said Flake, attempting to dislodge his sword from the wall. Eventually he got it out, but his next dramatic flourish and yell of "Onward!" got it stuck again.

Flake shrugged.
"Wait, I haven't mentioned my skills. I can play the banjo, use a sword, attack with a boomerang, and use magic scrolls. I also have military experience."

"So where to?" asked Lowell. He pulled a folded sheet of paper out of his cloak. It was small enough to have fit in there easily, but the way he produced it suggested that sometime in the future things would come out of that cloak that could not have possibly have all fit in there together at once. "I... just happen... to have a map of this planet detailing the locations of some dangerous treasure-raiding sites. Tombs, ruins, edges of portals leading to the nether dimensions... all theoretically stocked with treasure, and probably curses too." He unfolded it and showed it to Flake.

Once again Lowell kicked himself inwardly for not asking for more money. As in all creatures with a humaniod mind, Lowell's nature went against getting anything but the highest pay possible for his work. He had had to remind himself constantly, "I don't need the money, I don't need the money," as he had asked for fifteen percent. The high pay he had demanded for the pub job had been a matter of 1) pride, as what cook of his skill would work for as little money as the owner wanted to pay, and 2) The fact that he would need to set up some sort of residence. Neither applied when wandering.

He looked back up at Flake, his map-holding arm still outstretched. "So, anything strike your fancy? Blada's Tomb? Soqua Ruins? Or did you have something in mind?"

Flake looked at the map.
"Um... Maybe we should look for another party member first."

A person sitting at the bar ordered another side of fries (???) and waited for it to come. He couldn't help but notice the sword in the wall, the broken door, and the map-faced Flake. He walked over and asked, "Hey, do you know where the men's room is?"

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Not-so-random information:
This metropolis is built on an abandoned dessert with a camel stall on coordinates 56,23.

OOC: This particular thread is over. Its continuation is "Looking for party members." That thread should be near the top.