+6 to Dexterity (or, as some call it, Manipulation)

gavin cardigan walked into the Pub and hung his raincoat and fedora on the wooden pegs next to the door.

"danny, tell me you've got something fantastic that will make me forget all about this soggy weather," he said to his good friend and bartender and chef.

"i've got just the thing," danny blake told him as he pulled a pint of guinness for his best customer.  "a pho-rench dip.  50% pho, 50% french dip sandwich, 200% awesomesauce."

"awesomesauce?  that sounds like a marian word, but sounds totes delish.  wait, totes?!  now i'm doing it!"

he tilts the side of his head and pounds lightly as if to dump out excess marian-ness from his brain and walks back to join the regulars.  he finds several tables pushed together and marian herself sitting at the head with a 1-foot tall, tri-panel screen in front of her.  the others are sitting around with pencils, paper, and odd-looking dice.

his pace slows as realization sets in.

"don't tell me you're all playing dungeons & dragons," he groaned.

"so are you, cardigan," sierra charlie pats the chair next to her.  "we've already created a character for you.  a rogue!"

"i'm not play--"

cardigan is interrupted by the running approach of a breathless foxy charles, who gives gavin a quick peck on the cheek as she settles into place.

"you haven't started yet, have you?  i'm so excited!" she turns to gavin.  "i'm going to be a fighter!  what are you playing?"

"i...uh...," gavin stammers and grabs at the paper that jasper ffoote slides over to him with a wink.  "a...a rogue.  you know, 'cause i'm used to working in the shadows and uncovering secrets."

"okay, okay, everyone listen up!" marian raps on the table with her pencil.  "i'll be the DM tonight.  this adventure is called 'Peril in Elsinore,' in honor of our friend shakespeare's setting for Hamlet.  all of you have been invited to a special dinner with Lord Beardhead, the Dwarven Lord of the Kronen Fjords."

"Beardhead?  shouldn't it be Beardface or Beardchin or something like that?"

"shush!" marian scowled and continued.  "you have never met one another before, but you each have your own reason to answer a summons from Lord Beardhead.  after a lavish dinner, you sit around drinking tea, ale, or brandy, nibbling on cheese and nuts.  he tells you that he had finally deciphered the runes of an ancient manuscript that reveals that the Bludhammer, long-lost symbol of House Beardhead, lies hidden in a chamber beneath the ruins of Castle Elsinore to the north.  however, the castle has been abandoned and haunted for centuries.  it will take a mighty party of warriors to retrieve it, which is why he has summoned you.  with your combination of skills and abilities, he is certain that you can achieve success.  plus, you are the only people he can trust not to betray him.  he will give you gold and let you equip yourselves with the best armor and weaponry he can provide."

marian looked at each of them with a grin.

"now, introduce yourselves to each other.  taylor, you go first."

taylor darts his eyes suspicoiusly around the group assembled.  "i am Count Russert de Lioncourt, an elven vampire from the east."

"taylor, vampire is not a class in D&D!"  marian scolded him.

"i'm over 1200 years old," taylor continues, undaunted.  "my elven blood allows me to be active in daylight, unlike others of my kind.  i can turn into either a wolf or a bat as needed.  my fangs are indestructible, and i also carry a rapier.  my cloak grants me invisibility and was a gift from Lord Beardhead.  it is beyond price."

"okay, i'll treat you like a druid," marian decided.  "tucker?"

the lanky folksinger strummed a chord. "i am a half-elven bard named Trotter.  i can sing songs and recite verses that will either inspire or heal my comrades-in-arms or confound our enemies."

"the latter i can definitely believe," gavin muttered as danny delivered the mouth-watering sandwich.

"Lord Beardhead is a Patron of the Arts and provided me with funds so i could hone my craft.  i'm also handy with a crossbow."

"i am the Mysterious Lurker," said a mysterious voice from the figure lurking behind a purple mist in front of one of the chairs.  "i am a half-demon tiefling sorceress.  i can cast illusions that will leave you questioning your senses, and can also use magic as a weapon.  Lord Beardhead protected my family from the locals when we moved to this land, and we owe him a debt of gratitude."

"yay!" marian applauded.  "you're a natural roleplayer!  sierra, who are you?"

"i am Seyarrah of the Seven Seas, a human cleric who has sailed the...um....seven seas, serving Septima, the Goddess of the...um...Seven Seas," sierra read from her script, arching an eyebrow at marian who nodded at her encouragingly.  "our ship was recently besieged by vicious pirates and we would have been slaughtered had not a flotilla of warships commissioned by Lord Beardhead not come to our rescue, so now i serve Septima and Lord Beardhead."

"and i am Jinkster Wildffoote," the tallish lad next to sierra.  "i am a human ranger of the wild, an expert hunter and tracker.  my parents were haunted and driven insane by spirits from the beyond, and i have devoted my life to studying their ways and ridding this land of their presence.  since Castle Elsinore is full of these foul undead creatures,"  he casts a bright yet distrustful eye at the vampire, "Lord Beardhead knows that i need no other motivation to fulfill my part in this quest."

sierra nodded admirably at her decidedly normally hue-skinned beau, then turned to her sister.  "what about you, foxy?"

foxy stood tall and straight and fixed every with an evil glare.  "i am Malifox.  my last name is unimportant.  i am an half-orc--"

gavin bit his tongue and swore.  "a half-orc?!"

she fixed him with a playful stare.  "and don't you forget it! i am a fighter, very strong and almost 7-feet tall, my greenish-grey skin covered with the scars of many battles.  i do not trust elves or half-elves, and barely tolerate humans.  dwarves i detest, but i will fulfill my role in this...affair.  the reason why is of no concern to anyone but Beardhead and myself.  as for halflings...i only notice them when i step on them."

this earned a few guffaws around the table.

"what?" gavin asked, wiping his drippy chin.

"your turn," marian poked him.  "introduce yourself."

he picked up the paper and started reading.  "i am, um, Garvin Sweaterbearer, a halfling rogue--wait, a halfling?!  i don't think so!"

"gavin, you have to be!  you were last and there has to be a halfling.  plus, they make great rogues because of their bonus to dexterity."

"i am not a hobbit!"

"nobody said you were a hobbit, gavin!  it's just a game.  come on, roleplaying is fun.  rogues are very mysterious and can do all kinds of cool things," foxy coaxed him.

"okay, okay," he said resignedly.  "i, uh, am an accomplished thief and good at detecting traps.  i got good at it because once i failed to detect a trap and was poisoned.  Lord Beardhead alone has the antidote, and i must return to him once a month for a dosage or i will die.  however, it has made me immune to other poisons.  i carry several daggers, included one that is dipped in poison, and a shortbow--"

"very short," taylor shickered.

gavin glared at him.  "and a quiver of arrows, some of which are tipped with poison and other substances, like holy water."

taylor gulped and accidently knocked over his beer glass which, fortunately, was almost empty and he was able to sop up the mess with a cocktail napkin.

"this is gonna be so cool!"

"this might be cool."

"doesn't anyone play chess anymore?"