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Ingowil wrote: Ingowil looks around at the scene. "Well, it looks like you three were busy while we were gone."
Will level up my character as soon as I have the chance.
"So we were. By the way, I think the thief escaped over the wall." His speech is flat and broken, and his eyes are hollow. "Targ--he killed the fortune teller. He killed him."
Leveled up!
Grael still looks shaken. "Dead...", he murmurs.
For Radavel and Targ:
Etellio wrote: As Etellio goes about the work, he turns towards Grael - a look of puzzled wonder upon his face,"Is it metal perhaps? A pouch maybe? How did you discover that...?"
"In any case, be careful - they may be weapons."
"Yes, it is metal. I'll have a look." Grael bends down and takes one of the scarves.
Grael looks confused for a moment, then says, "There is something in their scarves."
Targ the Unwieldy wrote: Grael wrote: Grael looks shocked. "You--you killed him." Targ clutches his chest as blood oozes out between his fingers.
"Yeah...well...he may have killed me too..." Grael nods uncertainly, but something in his face has changed. He moves nervously over to Targ, and murmurs something. Targ's wounds slowly fade, leaving only a small scar.
1d8+1=5
Grael looks shocked. "You--you killed him."
Initiative
1d20+2(+3 if the aura's working)=20
Assuming I'm first...
Grael shrugs, and decides that he can't help much in the fight. He sighs, and asks Targ, "can I have your rope? Don't ask me how I'll get it up there, I have my ways."
Grael gasps. "These men are lying. Get up that wall. Do it now."
Szaranoth wrote: Szaranoth smiles, but this smile is not the hearty quick smile, but a hard grim smile.
"I think you have missed a small detail, I also stated earlier. But to make things more clear to you. I have a red sash, my dwarven friend has a red sash and your 'supposed' thief...hm.. she has a red sash,too. Grab them, guys."
Grael sighs. "Very well. Men, we can do this the easy way, or we can do it the way that may end in a funeral."
"Thief? Ingowil? I think not. Ingowil is a good friend of ours. Sheathe your weapons and tell us your story."
"Say...have you two gentlemen seen a woman run past here? Chasing someone?"
Grael takes a step forward, to keep up with the men, yet feeling slightly queasy.
Grael pulls aside the curtain.
Do I sense anything?
Grael glares at the man. "I'm going to see what's on the other side of that curtain. The one that this man is trying so desperately to hide."
Grael runs to the source of the whistle. "Come on! I think they found something!"
Do I?
Suddenly he bursts out, "The counters! The alley! Of course, how could I forget? She was at a counter, talking with a man, the thief came and stole her purse, she followed him--into an alley! Come on, we have to find that alley! And in it--an ambush!
Listen 13
Grael stumbles to his feet. "I saw her in an ambush after following a thief. We have to find her. In this crowd...no, she must be out of the crowd. Come on!"
"Very...well. I should have said before, but I was worried about being known as a demon. It has...happened before. 'Grael', as Etellio knows, means 'The Seer' in elven. I...saw Ingowil chatting with a man, then...someone grabs her purse. She follows the thief, but is soon surrounded by his friends. It may not have happened yet, but it may happen soon. We...have to find her..."
"Hurry!" Something seems to be making Grael especially agitated, and he keeps glancing around nervously.
He continues. "I-I think Ingowil is, or will soon be, in danger. Have to find her." He tries to get up, but is too exhausted. "You must find the others."
Grael starts to say something, but then keels over. "What? No..." He screams again.
He slowly looks up at his friends' concerned faces. "What? Oh..." he sighs. "I-I...I'm not called Grael for nothing. I think that...where are the others?"
Suddenly, Grael cries out in pain and collapses. He murmurs, "No...no...flames...NO!!!" He screams. He looks around frantically, seeming to see something. Then he comes to his senses.
"That can't be it. No. It can't be that. Surely not. Surely not." He whispers to himself.
"Surely not."
"Do you see anything, Etellio?", Grael asks anxiously. He wishes he could see what was happening.
"Somebody has already managed to lose his coin purse? That is...rather sooner than I expected", Grael sighs. A blind man can do little in these circumstances.
For Etellio:
Great, first annoying penalty for being blind. Oh well.
"I would toast to slain demons and allies against them, but I don't have any ale. Don't drink it, anyways. Demeaning", Grael says quietly.
"How can I contribute? I can heal." He says simply. He seems nervous, he isn't telling all.
"I am needed here."
He casts off his hood, to reveal his blank eyes and pale face. "Nature needs someone to warn all that they are destroying Her. Where is the point in killing goblins if the real evil is inside us? Nature won't even have to lift a finger against them, they will destroy themselves." He realizes that he is preaching and brings his hood back over his head. "I am sorry. I hope I am not too outgoing in my cause to get along with you."
"Yes...my name is Grael." He stumbles into the chair presented by Etellio. He doesn't seem to notice Ingowil's hand.
Grael thanks the sheriff, and tilts his head again. He also cups a hand around his ear, and walks to his fellow employees' table.
"I understand that we now work together. What are your names?"
He shrugs. "I don't really need the money, but I would be happy to help."
In response, Grael pounds the ground with his staff, holding out his holly and mistletoe for all to see. He hisses some strange words, and the staff glows brightly.
Light spell.
He remarks, "Don't know why I learned it, as it's not much help to me. But", he adds, "I can heal. Surely that would be helpful?"
"So, this is something to do with goblins? Nasty little critters."
He tilts his head, as if remembering something, and murmurs, "Ah, you are...the mayor. Good day, sir."
He bows. "I would be honored to be of assistance."
The blind man walks in, a hood over his eyes with a black screech owl perched on his arm. Hearing others conversing, he walks up to their table. "What's this about a job? I could use some money in my pocket." He bows, and says, "My name is...I am called Grael."
For those who speak Elven:
Done!
So, Radavel, when can I start playing?
This is my character, not quite done yet. Is the special concept that I emailed you with okay?
For Radavel:
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