Knowledge:Nature
Stellan passes on Anwel's observations to Andrei and Warren via message. He comments, "I've heard of them but not in mountains or even much in forest, they like swamp, rarely found out of it. I'd play along, we are over-supplied with enemies." Stellan finds a place where he can watch events, informing Gorax and Imon as he goes.
Andrei listens to Anwel and Stellan's advice and turning to the toad man "Greetings Garuum, I am Andrei come join us by the fire and lets talk business"
Turning to Gorax and the others, he says "I Vlag and the goblins will need their rest for the morning, can you 'put them to sleep'."
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Gorax stops, his wild long hair untidy after the interruption to his sleep. His head turns back to the company, hears Anwel's words sweep through the night. He holds his sword up towards the 'frog', "Yeah, get down and come over see us." He is still unwary of such a strange combination of creatures, unlike Anwel who seems able to take all the strangeness of the world in his stride.
Garuum continues to hold his hands up as he slide-jumps off the back of the Slurk. In what you assume is a smile, the boggard gestures toward several sacks haphazardly slung onto the massive toad creatures back. Each of the sacks is coated in a slick slime that the Slurk seems to be emitting from its back.
Bobbing its head up and down it moves to grab something out of one of the sacks. "Garuum no harm. Garuum trade. Good drink. Same as before."
As it finishes speaking it pulls a large clay jug from one of the sacks and holds it out to Gorax. "Sample goods." The creature croaks as it begins to pull the stopper from the jug.
Imon got up quickly, gathering his bow and arrows and moving hopefully before he was seen. He took up a position among the trees, with his bow ready, hoping the beast hadn't noticed him. He watched and waited, wondering how this would go, hoping that his fellows would know better than to accept anything offered by a monster.
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Gorax is suddenly taken aback by the boggard as he asks to trade, then begins by offering up a dink from a jug. Involuntarily he brings his sword up and points it towards the boggard. "Whoa, now slow down there frog man. What's that? a poison you are offering me, a drink to take my soul?" His eyes narrow, his face flushes red as he feels totally out of his depth by this sudden turn of events.
Would you mind if I went first, then, friend? He asks, reaching his hand forward. He turns to Gorax. "Sometimes, you just have to go with the flow. And it's always best to sample product before a purchase.
"Somehow I doubt Kressle was buying poison for her men to drink," Anwel deadpans. He finds Gorax's and Imon's reactions very frustrating, a rehash of their unfounded, at the time, suspicion of the goblins. That the latter turned out to be slavers and cannibals does not, in Anwel's mind, justify any of this overt hostility. At least Udo's attitude is a breath of fresh air.
"There is, however," he says, "a simple means of verifying Garuum's story. Tam!" he calls, clapping his hands. When the former bandit does not come, Anwel goes to rouse him, pinching and shaking his shoulder. "We have been approached by a boggard named Garuum," he explains, when he is awake enough to listen. "He says your old group used to buy drink from him, and wants to sell to us. Is this true? If so, how much did he usually sell, and at what price?"
Warren looks at the exchange with the visitors with amusement trying to remember the properties of Slurk juice.
"Whoa, now slow down there frog man. What's that? a poison you are offering me, a drink to take my soul?" His eyes narrow, his face flushes red as he feels totally out of his depth by this sudden turn of events.
"No. No." Croaks the boggard. "No make sick. Good drink." He adds waving his hand and the jug around the air. After a second or two he brings the jug to his lips and takes a good sized drink himself. A tremble runs through his head and shoulders as he swallows the liquid and smacks his lips loudly. "Good drink!" He says again and offers the jug back to Gorax.
As Urdo steps up next to Gorax to examine the offered jug Garuum turns to the elf and gives him a large boggardly smile. Although unnerving, the creature's attempt at friendly relations seems genuine. When Urdo takes the jug, Garuum watches the alchemist with curious interest as he tests the liquid for any sign of danger.
Not sensing any immediate danger, Urdo raises the jug to his lips and takes a small sip.
The liquid burns mightily as it enters your mouth and slips down your throat. You quickly stifle the immediate reaction to cough, sputter and spit the stuff out which would certainly insult Garuum. After a few seconds pass you feel a warmness in your gut and just a bit of a numbness in your mouth and throat that seems to continue for a few seconds longer. You don't seem to notice any other effects at this point.
Tams struggles awake as Anwel has to work rather had to rouse the tired bandit after his day of heavy labor. "Wha...who's there...goblins?" As he gathers himself enough to understand and make sense of Anwel's repeated question the bandit runs his hands over his face a couple of times and says tiredly, "Oh. The ole frog man. He's alright. He makes the stuff the Stag Lord likes to drink." Still a bit blurry eyed he glances in Garuum's direction. "Yeah. That's him. Kressle was responsible for makin' sure the stuff got delivered south every couple o' weeks." He shrugs his shoulders and then turns over to go back sleep. "Didn't realize it was already time for another shipment."
Udoeak hits his chest twice, breathing out strongly. Jeez. I haven't had something that strong in quite some time, friend. That's good, strong stuff. He nods towards Gorax, saying, "It's no poison that I know of, other than strong booze. I'm not worried about it.
Udoeak then turns back to the boggard, taking him aside.
Stellan steps toward Gorax, "It's OK, friend, I know that all booze is bad in your eyes, but not all agree. It's not unfriendly for him to offer, just let the others bargain, we don't need more trouble." Stellan will try to led Gorax away from the transactions of vile brew taking place, to the other end of the camp.
Oh, right. Gorax is teetotal, and militant about it. Anwel should have remembered. Now that Stellan's reminded him, he can see the man's actions in a different, more positive light. Seducing people to drink is probably as big a sin in Gorax's eyes as slaving is in Anwel's. He will have to make it up to the man for his presumption, and for his dismissive remark. Frowning, he pats Tam firmly on the shoulder. "Thank you for your help," he says, not thinking the man really needed to know that it was the smoke from the pyre that had attracted the boggard before his appointed time. "Feel free to go back to sleep."
Sure that the boggard means well, and that this encounter is likely to eventually end up in an exchange, Anwel will try to assess the value of what Garuum is offering. What is each cask worth? How many does he have?
Imon removed the arrow from his bow, though he still carried both, and approached. He seemed more calm, though he did not allow his eyes to linger on any one thing for too long.
"Short of using it as a trade good, I do not believe that we will have much use for strong drink. What I value, however, is information. Was this your only point of contact with the followers of the Stag Lord? How about the Bone Ravens, do you have any contact with them?"
Udoeak returns to where he was standing.
"Clearly you were not around the last time the Stag Lord found out one of his men was keeping drink from him," says Anwel to Imon, putting on an air of condescension. They are lucky Udo has been keeping Garuum occupied, otherwise he might have noticed that the lawman had implied they were not affiliated with the Stag Lord. He will have to work deftly to repair the damage. "His head ended up adorning the fort's gate. It took a week for the rain and the wind to strip the flesh from his skull.
"No," he concludes, arching his brow so Imon can pick up that something is up, "this is destined for the fort and noplace else." To make sure someone knows exactly what Anwel has in mind, however, he whispers into the spell.
Anwel looks at Udo hopefully, but it soon becomes clear that he and Garuum have not actually come to an agreement. That being the case, Anwel approaches Andrei, who had begun negotiating at least, and murmurs in his ear. "A few casks of this stuff may be useful in getting us close to the Stag Lord, captain." giving Andrei Kressle's title. His next words are heavy with subtext. "I know how much you've wanted to talk with him. In itself, however, it is not worth much more than three silver crowns per cask."
Stellan tilts his head a little as Anwel whispers in his ear.
Hearing Imon's statement about not needing the booze, Stellan put two and two together and messages Imon.
Garuum simply stands and blinks a few times after Udoeak's last statement. He then shrugs and smiles again while holding up the jug as if offering another sample. "Good drink. Trade. Yes?" He then moves over to where Stellan and Gorax stacked the goods gathered off of the goblins. "Ahh. Trade." Says the boggard who bends down with his hands on his knees and begins sniffing at a few of the sacks and looking over the assortment of weapons and other items scavenged from Vrag's group.
Imon shrugged his shoulders and wandered off, toward Stellan. He kept his voice down as he said, "It's times like these when I miss being a lawman. There was none of this cloak and dagger nonsense. The closest we did to this was preparing an ambush and waiting for the highwaymen to pass. I suppose I will leave interrogation to the others, then." He kept an eye out, both on the boggard and for whatever else might be waiting in the dark.
Andrei gets up from the fire and walks over Garuum and says simply "Yes trade." He will allow Garuum to make a pile of small sized weapons and armour and the bone jewelery and will shift any of the more valuable use supplies back into the sack.
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Gorax reluctantly follows Stellan to the other side of the camp, though tension ripples through his body, his knuckles white as his hands ball into a fist. "We should not deal with such evil." says Gorax in a voice deep and vengeful. "Let that liquid be put to the earth, get them to tell the frog to stop his production of it. I will not tolerate such in the lands that I settle, and it is here in these riverlands that I think there is such an opportunity. I will keep my family safe from its tortures, from its violence." his eyes open wide as he continues, wide with a compulsion, with a conviction almost addicted.
"I cannot find fault with your reasoning, though perhaps with your suggestion. In this instance, this substance, whatever it actually is, could be useful as a tool for learning more about our foes. However, your aversion to alcohol seems to go far beyond the threat it poses to public order. Is there some further explanation?" He said, addressing Gorax.
Garuum spends a few minutes going over the goods and eventually pulls out the shorter length of silk rope, the wood chisels, and one of the hand axes. He also sets aside one of the sacks filled with some kind of dried meat and beans. As he stands back up he notices Gorax's obvious agitation, however, it's clear the boggard doesn't really understand what the big warrior is saying.
As Andrei walks up Garuum's eyes flick back and forth between the bard and Gorax. "Trade okay?" He asks as he points to the small pile of goods he set aside.
Andrei removes the silk rope and the wood chisels and replaces them with two sets of poorly made goblin armour and says "Trade?"
Garuum frowns as Andrei puts the goblin armor on the pile. Shaking his head he points to his clay jug and then holds up six fingers. He then pulls the goblin armor out of the stack, sets it aside and puts the chisels back in. He then holds up six fingers again. "Trade?"
Andrei too tired to barter more nods and says "Trade."
"Ahhh. Trade. Good." Says the boggard with what you can only guess is a smile crossing his frog like lips. He immediately scoops up the axe, chisels, sack of dried food stuffs and carries them over to the slurk. After spending a minute or two packing the items away, he then pulls out six of the half gallon jugs and places them in front of Andrei.
"Trade good. Welcome friend." Adds the boggard as he somewhat awkwardly holds out a slick, scaled hand for Andrei to shake. At the same moment the slurk lets out a large, gaseous belch, that while harmless, still smells fantastically nauseating as it drifts through the camp for a few seconds before.
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Gorax looks at Imon, his mind troubled by what he might reveal, his normal steadfast way is replaced by a less sure, a lack of confidence, he struggles for words, before replying "It was was just a personal thing ... " as he clutches at the words, he seems to become angry at Imon, protecting his weakness and suppressing it under his own rage, "..and it's not anything you need know, or pry into." He wrings his hands as his face reddens.
Anwel nods in satisfaction. "Friend," he says. The hand is not for him to take, however, so he leaves it to Andrei and turns on his heel. He begins walking towards Gorax, Stellan, and Imon, trying to think of how best to apologize to Gorax. He comes within earshot just in time to hear the man's last words. His face falls at the familiar scene.
"Tread carefully, Gorax," says Anwel, his voice solemn. "You are absolutely correct. Nobody has the right to pry into your past." He glowers at no one in particular. "But pry they will, and resistance tends to be futile." Anwel brings up his hands to chest height, palms up like they would be if he were supporting a tray. The meaning is clear: here is futile resistance, and its end, on display. He stops short, however, of telling Gorax what to do. If he wants to repeat Anwel's journey down the path of secrecy, that is his choice to make. Anwel cannot possibly judge him for it.
"I am sure your reasons are worthy," he says, rueful now. Though maybe Gorax will be grateful that Anwel is changing the subject slightly. "Certainly they are bound to worthier than the ones I had credited you." He lets his hands fall and his shoulders slump. "The venom spewed between us over the Bone Ravens was much on my mind, and I had thought your bile towards Garuum came from his being a boggard. I should have remembered that you would react similarly to any brewer and peddler of drink, and I am sorry I did not." He looks into the big man's eyes. "Is there some way I can make it up to you?"
Andrei shakes his hand and smiles. "We should be getting back to sleep there is much to do tomorrow."
Imon nodded, "I understand." He said, a little irked that Gorax would take issue about something that he'd basically begged to be asked about. "Perhaps another time." He added, moving away when he noticed Anwel approaching.
When he was away from the others, he decided to see if more could be learned from the boggard. He cast the now familiar spell and spoke to Andrei.
Stellan nods at all that passes between Gorax and the others. "Your life is your own Gorax, just remember few will understand. Alcohol's abuse is evil but many look forward to their ale as one of the very few joys they have. They are not all bad just ... weary of life's travails." Stellan falls silent at Anwel's apology, letting Gorax talk.
Stellan's eyes sweep the forest, seeing if other visitor's are in the offing.
Perception
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Gorax, retreats sulking and slinking away from Stellan's words, mumbling to himself into his hunched up shoulders. "Best we're shot of it, no one really see the depths to which alcohol takes you until its too late, best we kill it at source." Under the rolling thunder of his brow, beneath the bushy eyebrows, his eyes watch attentively as trade is done. Though Gorax has enough wisdom to see the power of his fellow charter holders, and will not go against them so easily.
Oblivious to the disagreement within the group, Garuum remounts his slurk and with a friendly wave the boggard leaps into the darkness and disappears upstream.
The remainder of the night passes uneventfully but cold. The fog, mist and clouds give way to a clear night sky with the stars shining brightly overhead. A sparkling, thin layer of frost is draped over the camp when the first yellow rays of the morning sun peek through the trees.
Anwel takes Gorax's lack of response to his question as a firm "no", and grimaces a little in disappointment. Still, just because Gorax does not want to forgive him now just means he must try harder to earn forgiveness when the opportunity presents itself. "If it is any comfort," he says quietly, "nobody plans to drink the stuff, or to distribute it willy-nilly when we get home." Anwel uses the word "home" to refer vaguely to the trading post without mentioning it by name within earshot of the goblins, but as he says it he finds it unexpectedly appropriate. Despite having first arrived there mere weeks ago, Anwel finds it more homelike than any place he has been since Elistia above the Sellen. The presence of unambiguously friendly and well-meaning people helps.
"It is a key to getting close to the Stag Lord," says Anwel, cocking his head toward Tam to indicate the source of his information, "and will serve no other purpose. As for Garuum," he says, dropping his voice to a whisper, "with his best customer gone and no one to replace him he may turn to another trade."
The watch seems to take twice as long as it did by the river. Nestled among the tree Anwel can hear the leaves rustling and whiffling in the chill air, while the brook is too far away to drown out the sounds. Still, it eventually ends as all things must, and after waking the others Anwel hauls out his tome to begin the day. The useful communication spell finds its way into his repertoire, while his defenses, useless as they had proven against the dart throwers, are discarded in favor of more befuddlements.
0th – ghost sound (DC 16), mage hand, message, prestidigitation
He contemplates casting one now, to create his ersatz hand of the unwavering faith, but decides against it. If they need it, the casting is short, and if they come across Thad's grigs today, it will be better not to be toting an evil and necromantic aura. Instead, he empties his waterskin over the ember remains of the pyre, then goes to the stream to refill it. As he does, he spots Lairochal drinking her fill, and a thought strikes him. "Will Vrag and the others not slow us down if they go on foot?" he muses. "If so, can we abate that? Maybe some of us could share our horses, or we could have one of the horses pull them trussed up in the cart?"
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Gorax sees the disappointment in Anwel as he walks away, so wrapped up in his own emotions and confusion. He holds his hand up and waves, gingerly at the shadow man of magic, without real conviction he would be seen or that he really wanted to converse with the powerful magician. He augments the wave with a gurgled sound "Um Anwel!" which barely leaves his lips. I wonder what Anwel wanted? remains unanswered in his mind, until his pragmatism returns and his dirty large hands reach into his bag and pull out what was once a red cloth, he starts to clean his sword and polish his armor. Time to make sure I can fight and protect this lot once more, nothing like an argument settled with steel.
Andrei is relieved that it is morning when he wakes from his second sleep. He gets up and faces his face from the stream and sets about packing everything up. Finding a moment when Warren and the others are away from the captives he asks "Got any suggestion for what we do with the goblins? As it is they are likely to slow us down. I'm tempted to mark ask Stellan to mark them too and banish them however they might be more useful to send a message to the rest of the bone ravens."
Stellan is watching the woods and the departure of Garuum and misses the subtle interaction of Gorax and Anwel. He checks Imon (and anyone else) again, finishing the treatment. He goes to bed wondering how long it'll take for the next event.
Stellan wakes the next morning to Vinur licking his face. A bit slowly, Stellan gets up and looks around, sees the camp is intact. Muttering quietly, "Lucky, good quality I suppose, in a leader." Checks on his patient(s) and is satisfied with the progress.
He feeds Vinur and begins the commune, preparing his spells for the day.
Same as default except swapping out Mage Armor and putting Cure Light Wound in its place.
When Andrei calls the group together and suggests that Stellan mark the goblin, Stellan speaks up. Uh, Andrei? I can hold only about three such markings at once, curses have a price; Imon has one, and Vrag another. I could put one more out, but maybe it should be put on someone else? As I said, I can lay my hexes on any that has it up to about a mile away from me. One is baneful but the other heals. As for the goblin, letting him go might be best, we have little use for him. On the other hand we cannot make it look like mercy, that would be seen as weakness and raise questions we cannot afford."
Anwel for the first time attempts the communication spell, imagining his lips mere inches away from Andrei's and Stellan's ears. The group is close enough that they should all be able to hear him, while the prisoners should not, but he wants to be sure those two, at least, get his message. "Strictly speaking," he murmurs, "Once Vrag is gone we will have no further use for our masquerade. It was he, after all, who first named us the Stag Lord's men. We made no such claim, merely went along with what he already believed. Once he is gone, we may be better served by dropping the lie and presenting ourselves in our true guise to the other goblins. As ourselves, showing mercy will not be a weakness, but a strength." Anwel's face looks very much as it had when he first proposed the masquerade back at the trading post: enthusiastic and a little manic. He seems very taken with this idea.
"According to Jink," he explains, "he and the other goblin can look forward to being ripped apart by brush thylacines when they return. Their remains will either be buried, if they are judged dishonorable, or eaten, if they are deemed worthy of being reborn into the tribe. As ourselves, we can offer them a refuge. Let them discover the difference between a slave warren and a free commune," he says, using the Galtan word for a self-governing settlement. The others knowing his whole history, more or less, did have the advantage that they would understand his points of reference. He continues. "If they choose to take their chances with Tartuk, we can, as ourselves, let them know that there is a more worthy power in these lands than their master or the Stag Lord. They may spread the word a little before their deaths, and some sympathy among the Bone Ravens may prevent an all-out war."
Imon woke up feeling considerably better. Most of his strength seemed to have returned, though he was still not in top form. He spent some part of the morning practicing his shooting, aiming for the dirt so he would be able to recover the arrows.
After Anwell spoke, Imon felt the need to interject, "I don't see how we benefit from releasing, or for that matter, not killing the goblins . I don't think we should just let Vrag go either, but I'm willing to entertain the thought that he may not trouble anyone again. The mistake is that you think goblins are people, they aren't. But that doesn't change the fact that they are about as mean and violent as a rabid dog, and almost as smart." Imon had been casting his gaze about the group, but then his eyes locked onto Anwel as he added, "You want to go around making nice with every critter you find out here? Fine, I'll be there to say 'I told you so' as I pull a dagger out of your arse, but don't make the mistake that goblins are anything but vermin to be exterminated."
After the evening Warren comments: "I guess the brutal counterattack did not occur. When you are all ready, we can depart."
Warren adds to Imon's words where Vrag and the goblins cannot hear:"The goblins will not be released as they have vital intelligence about our numbers and capabilities. Imon is correct and they are cunning and have shown they can be violent. As for letting Vrag go, that is another issue we can discuss later. Right now, Imon, Tams and I are taking the two goblins for a walk--they won't be back."
Warren motions for the trio to escort the goblins outside of camp.
"I look forward to receiving your tender ministrations," laughs Anwel. In the back of his mind he wonders if Imon's chosen imagery is at all suggestive, but he quickly dismisses the possibility. Any man who can brazenly voice opinions like Imon's would not hide his desires behind metaphors. Still, Anwel flashes him a lascivious wink - any man who can brazenly voice opinions like Imon's should feel a little uncomfortable after doing so, even for a different reason.
"I know my judgement is suspect," he continues, dropping his voice, "but this is not my judgement. It is Thad's," he says, inclining his head respectfully to the other elf. "Jink and the other goblin are the way they are because of they way their leaders shape their society. Change it, or transplant them, and you will eventually get different people," says Anwel, over-enunciating the last word for emphasis. "It is the same with elves, or humans," Anwel ventures, trying to walk the line between making a point and being incredibly offensive, and knowing he will probably fail. "Everyone knows how differently a Forlorn and a Sovyrianite can turn out, or two humans raised in Restov and Nisroch.
"Still," he admits quickly, putting up his hands in front of him to ward off interruptions, "that is a big discussion, and a bit beyond our scope at the moment. The issue before us is whether taking the goblins with us is worthwhile. My position is that it is. I am willing to let one of them ride with me on Lairochal - it would be all three, to spare anyone else their company, but I do not believe she could handle carrying four."
It seems old patterns do not die so easily. As Anwel had talked, Warren had sprung into action. Fortunately, he had not done so alone, and instead called for allies, one of whom Anwel had occupied. Quickly, the wizard turns and darts for the druid, hoping to make it before anyone else. He looks pleadingly into his eyes. "Please do not do this," he says, simply. "I know I have asked you a very big favor very recently, one which you find it hard to stomach. I know you think I have a fluid relationship with the truth." He sighs heavily. "That being the case, you should know that, to get him to tell me what he knew, I promised Jink I would not let harm come to him. Help me be more honest. Help me keep that promise." He wracks his brains for a viable alternative. He had hoped one would emerge through discussion, but that seems less than viable now. Imon's image comes back to him, and with it, inspiration. "What if I hitch the spider-cart to Lairochal, keep the two goblins bound within it, and assume liability for their behavior? Vrag has his own agreement with Andrei, and I will not be responsible for it, but if the goblins screw up, I will let you punish me however you see fit." Anwel raises his voice for this last proposal, hoping, unlike with everything else he has said, that Vrag hears and understands. With any luck, he will tell the others in their own tongue. "I make a better prize than these small fry, no?" he says breezily.
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With Stellan helping Imon, Gorax looks up from his cleaning and speaks to Stellan, "You know, I've not quite recovered from that fight yesterday as I thought, these wounds are still seeping and the bruises are deep. Can you do something to help?"
At hearing Warren's idea to take the goblins for a walk, Gorax feels for Anwel's point. "Maybe they can be turned from their bad ways, we could give them a second chance. Just one more chance. Let them come with us." his feelings somewhat more mellow after a night's sleep.
Stellan looks over Gorax's injuries when asked. By the spirits of ice and snow! Gorax, the way you were working I thought you only had scratches; you're ready to fall over. Let me heal you."
Casting the spell Cure LIght Wounds, saving the hex for later.
CLW Gorax.
At Imon's pronouncement, Stellan shakes his head in grief. "No, No that's not right."
Then Warren breaks in with his dire words. Stellan looks stunned, fumbling for words as Anwel takes action. Stellan finds his voice, saying, "Please, Warren, Imon, everyone, everyone deserves some respect, or at least pity. If goblinkind or other beings that think, speak, and do, are often evil, does that not place the greater burden on us to not behave the same way? Be better than that. Also, they do not know more than those that fled already, they will already know most if not all; they will add nothing important. Much of what they think they know is wrong, that could aid us. We lose little by freeing them, or keeping them. You have been chosen leader in this matter but know you are setting how we are to be in this land from now on, warlords or wisdoms. What will it be?" Stellan looks appealingly at everyone.
Imon sighed, why didn't anyone seem to understand? Had they all lived far away from Restov, and only come to join the expedition? If that was the case, he supposed he could understand, they'd likely never seen the horrors that goblins and other beasts had inflicted on society.
"How? Shall we march ahead, heedless of their teeth at our backs while we watch for swords ahead? Or do we drive them ahead of us like dogs to the slaughter at our foes hands? The latter seems ineffective, the former foolish."
Imon wondered what the others thought of him, the way they all seemed to be on Anwel's side did not imply anything good. He looked around the group, and said "I'm sure you all think me blind, or cruel, but I find it laudable that you wish to save these beasts from their own natures. The fact remains, however, that we do not have the resources or the time to reform a creature that is as cunning as it is malicious, and has further shown no sign that it truly wishes to change."
"The burden is mine. Or do we need to have another lengthy debate?"
Warren takes a comfortable spot on the ground.