Oh well, if no ale is to be found, the river will have to do.
Shaladriel bows to the group. My name is Shaladriel of Logas. Blue Heron is it? It appears you have traveled quite far. How long have you been in these lands?
** spoiler omitted **
Sorry, I should have adjusted that part.
He was initially raised a Ranger; then he spent time in frontier towns and learned to be a bit of a rough-and-tumble style rouge. Later he learned how to handle a firearm, and then went back to the frontier-type life.
So technically he's
Level 1 - Ranger; Level 2, 3, Scout; Level 4 Gunslinger; Level 5 Scout.
My possible alternative was to create:
Level 1 - Ranger; Level 2 Ranger; Level 3 Bard/Arch, Level 4 Gunslinger; level 5 Bard Arch - but I didn't know how that would play out because I'm not entirely sure about the party make-up.
I could go the second route and have more casting to offer to the party; my current build seems like a decent back-up melee fighter (I think the party needs more melee combat types at this point) - but if the party needs more healing/lore involved, the second build option is a lot better for that (and I think I'd enjoy it a bit more; but I could go either way).
I'm good to go with either build, I just needed to know what's the best option at this point might be based on the current build of the party.
The stats would remain the same in either case, but I'm kind of keeping the final option on hold until I know more about the general party make-up.
Do you have any further suggestions/ideas at this time on which way to go? If so, I'd welcome them greatly.
Please let me know what you think would be better for the party; like I said, I'm good either way, I just want to build someone who's better suited for what the party will need in the long run.
On the plus side, my personality will likely remain the same either way (as will my gear) so that shouldn't be a problem.
EDIT: Via alignment I'd likely be Neutral.
A tall, lean man strides with a purpose up through the surrounding wilderness and sees the gathering of people by the dwarf and his damaged wagon.
He pauses and studies them, then glances above to examine the sky, as if gauging the weather for a moment.
Seeing the rather large group gathered about, and having few provisions on him, he moves to the company and reaches for the brim of his hat, tipping it politely.
”Afternoon,” he says with a polite voice, looking at the others, studying each in their turn.
He’s wearing a pair of short-swords under the length of his duster. There is also a dagger hanging low on his hip.
You think he’s wearing another dagger up his sleeve. The hilts of the swords look very well made, and you think you see under his faded tunic the gleam of a silvery mail shirt.
He looks behind him, studying the terrain, then turns to look forward – his eyes hard on the terrain around him; as if he is studying it for possible threats or ambushes.
Then he turns back to the others and offers them a friendly smile.
”So… Ya’ll traveling together, or just meeting by coincidence?” he asks with a casual draw, looking at the group thoughtfully.
”As for meself, I’m headed up a yonder to a place called “Dustpan”… Reckon it’s up the road a piece…” he adds as he stares ahead thoughtfully, then turns back to the group.
"Joke?"
Heaven know these barbarians are strange. The river runs freely.
With a shake of her head, the Tien woman woman considers the half-elf's question. "Not so long as a lifetime; I have walked among the yěmánrén for twelve years."
She looks like she might have continued but another stranger approached.
"The place of dust draws many sojourners it seems. Like the river to the ocean, the paths of many wanderers converge in a single flow."
Bart's night was going rather smoothly, right up until they neared what appeared to be a camp fire in the distance. Nearly half a dozen shadows could be seen from his perch atop Alar, outlined by the light of the campfire. The lad quickly hops off Alar, who at the same time blended into the darkness of the eve and vanished from sight. Well, not entirely. Bart knew what to look for and could see his friend quite plainly, but from afar it would appear as such.
The young man considered what to do. Dustpawn was not too far away. A couple more nights of riding could get him there easily. But he had already been on the road for several days with not but Alar for company. The Lion creature was a dear friend and loved one for Bart, but even the young lad would admit that Alar was not very good at conversation.
'I heard that.' A voice moved through the young mans mind, startling him for only a moment.
He smiled and replied back, just as silently, 'You know its true. Mind if I go take a look? I promise I'll be careful.'
Alar, as always, took a few moments to think about the question and his answer before silently acquiescing, with a touch of warning to leave if things got dangerous. Bart wasn't quite sure how the creature knew how to do that, since he had only just figured out how to send general impressions of emotions himself rather then fully worded messages, but the lion had a knack for mental communication it seemed. Bart, grinning broadly at the prospect of some company for the evening that actually talked more then a sentence or two a night, made his way over to the group.
As always, his short jacket hung just below his waist. His height, only 4'7, made it clear he was either a very tall halfling or a very small human. If one could see him at all that is. He walked silently, his steps making not a sound, and he knew exactly how to move to keep the eye from noticing him until he was nearly upon the group. Then, in a loud voice, he announces himself, "Hey all!"
His proud face was beaming as he stuck a straw between his teeth. The campfire flickered off his ruby colored goggles oddly, hiding his eyes, but not his youthful features. "Man, don't see many caravan's like this these days. Usually they've got at least a couple wagons. Mind if I join you for the evening? I won't be much bother. Got my own food and everything, just interested in some company."
Bart had to take the straw out of his mouth to speak, but it wasn't long before the odd young man had it back there. He took a moment to make sure both his hat and his hair were in place atop his head, the relaxed as he surveyed the odd group. Sticking both his hands into the pockets lined in his pants.
Sorry it took so long to get the reply up. You guys started about 4 hours after I had to hit the sack and catching up took me about another hour. Thankfully I have the next two days off so I can post through the night.
"Man, don't see many caravan's like this these days. Usually they've got at least a couple wagons. Mind if I join you for the evening? I won't be much bother. Got my own food and everything, just interested in some company."
Paul turns from the group near him and glances at the boy.
He pulls out a cheroot from his jacket and cups his hands around it as he lights it.
"No one's stopping you, son..." he says with a nod as he takes a long tug from the smoke.
"Were ya'll headed?" he says looking at the lad.
Bart grins brightly and wanders on over to the river bed, grabbing and dragging a rock several feet until it sat near the man that replied, then plopping down atop of it. His eyes immediately went to the musket and even hidden by the firelight and the goggles as they were, it was clear where his attention was. His voice, a little distant, replies, "Headin here and there... Courier business..."
Bart pats his bag off-handedly, as if to emphasize his words. Normally he'd go on to explain that the messenger bag wasn't just for show but at the moment he was far too distracted, "Is that really one of them power sticks I've heard about? Like... like a metal wands or somethin?" His words were much less distant this time, the eagerness practically bubbling up from within at the chance to learn about such a weapon.
"How does it work? What sort of magic makes it explode? Is it a combination of air and fire, using compression, or is it pure earth magic that flings out the rocks?" He had apparently heard a lot of rumors, and it was doubtful that many of them had more then a lick of truth judging from his words.
"Is that really one of them power sticks I've heard about? Like... like a metal wands or somethin?"
"Reckon so," Paul says as he grins around the butt of the cheroot as he takes another draw.
"How does it work? What sort of magic makes it explode? Is it a combination of air and fire, using compression, or is it pure earth magic that flings out the rocks?"
David flicks some ash off the cheroot as he unslings the musket from his shoulder and holds it out to show him the weapon.
"Nah, it ain't magic," he says looking him, holding the cheroot between his teeth.
"It'll do the job, though," he says watching the boy as he holds the musket up for him to examine.
The dwarf looked up from his stitching at the boy's question. He seemed too to be curious about the weapon. Nobles sometimes had the exotic items, and occasionally mercenaries, but they were far from common.
He stood and handed the garment to the old man, Yamato. He watches the jacketed man out of the corner of his eye, but addresses Yamato.
Take a look here, that should be a comfortable fit, yes? If this is suitable, the others shouldn't take long to adjust."
Bart covertly 'examines' it with a quick spell, attempting to detect and discern the magical aura's that surely surrounded such a device. He was surprised to find none, at least none that he could see. The goggles hid the effect of his spell in his eyes, disguising the glimmering stars one would normally see without the opaque ruby lens in the way shining through out his iris'.
"Wow!" The young lad seemed legitimately surprised by the muskets purely technological build. "I heard rumors here and there but I never believed em. Kinda think after a while stuff like that takes magic ya know? I guess technologies finally catching up."
His eyes scan over the piece for a little longer and then he turns his attention to the man holding it. The draws he was taking from his cheroot in particular interested him. He knew his own habit of chewing on straw was an emulation of someone else who had done it, and they had probably been emulating smoking, but he had yet to find an adult willing to sell him any tobacco and not enough coin left to bribe them. Was it as good as the stories said or was it as bad as the beer he had, he wondered? "How did you get a weapon like this? They're pretty rare unless you figure out how to make them yourself, aren't they? That what you did?"
Satisfied with his work on the wagon, Gii returns to the grouping of disparate figures. He wordlessly greets the newcomers with a nod, sizing them up from behind the glass of his spectacles. His posture is relaxed, leaning his weight slightly on the ornate quarterstaff he carries.
"Wow!" The young lad seemed legitimately surprised by the muskets purely technological build. "I heard rumors here and there but I never believed em. Kinda think after a while stuff like that takes magic ya know? I guess technologies finally catching up."
"Well... I reckon most folk don't care as much for science much... Getting stuff done without magic normally takes muscle and skull-sweat, and that ain't as easy. But with magic all it takes is some finger-wiggling and everything's done for you," he says with a shrug.
"I reckon that's alright for some folk, but I prefer a lad that can pull his own weight. But hell - maybe that's just me..."
"How did you get a weapon like this? They're pretty rare unless you figure out how to make them yourself, aren't they? That what you did?"
David flicks some more ash off the cheroot.
"Looks like," he says with a small smile.
Bart hrumph's a little, but then remember's that he hadn't yet revealed, nor was he going to, his own magical ability. Well, not unless he needed to run that was. "People say that, but have you ever actually looked at one of those books about magical theory? I tell you what, I've delivered and peaked at enough of em to know its more then just wiggling fingers... well for most people anyway."
The child looked away from the man for a moment toward the others, curiously studying each of them. What an odd group. He sticks his straw in his mouth and worries at it as he thinks, wondering what everyone was doing traveling. Meetings like this were rare for individual leggers, people who walked to their destination, but groups of them? "Where you headed, stick guy?"
Shaladriel stares at the weapon with much skepticism. I think I'll stick with my trusty bow. That's the way Erastil prefers it.
"Well... I reckon most folk don't care as much for science much... Getting stuff done without magic normally takes muscle and skull-sweat, and that ain't as easy. But with magic all it takes is some finger-wiggling and everything's done for you," he says with a shrug.
"I reckon that's alright for some folk, but I prefer a lad that can pull his own weight. But hell - maybe that's just me..."
At this, Gii's gaze is focused on the dark-haired man. His brow creases slightly, but one would have a hard time telling what the sapphire-eyed cleric was thinking from his face, alone. The hand holding his quarterstaff is another story, however, as it squeezes tightly around the engraved wood. "I can assure you," he starts, looking Paul straight in the eye, "we must work for every ounce of magic we can weave. I did not wake suddenly one day, and poof-" the Nethian gestures with his free hand, his face still calm. His eyes seem to shine with an inner power as he continues, "suddenly begin channeling the All-Seeing Eye's power. Decades of study and devotion are what allow me to 'wiggle my fingers and let things be done for me.'" Though his voice does not sound offended, it is clear that Gii does not appreciate the other man's take on magic.
Brat immediately turns to look at Gil curiously, his eyes alight beneath the rose tinted goggles he wore. A nervous hand reaches up to fasten his hat more firmly to his head as he says, "You a magic user huh?" His voice was both curious and nervous, though that was perhaps not strange given the dangers some magic users presented.
"You're not one of them... devil summoning folk or undead diddling one's, are ya?" The fact that both the man and Bart agreed that magic was more then just a waggle of the fingers did make the lad a bit less interested in running, but he still had to ask the question just in case. Cheliax in particular had a large amount of magic users proud of binding infernal things to their will.
"People say that, but have you ever actually looked at one of those books about magical theory?"
He smiles.
"I reckon that I've read a few books in my time," he says, watching the boy.
"I tell you what, I've delivered and peaked at enough of em to know its more then just wiggling fingers... well for most people anyway."
Paul just smiles as he takes the weapon back and slings it over his shoulder again.
"Hell, don't get me wrong, son... Nothing wrong with a spellslinger outright... But I've been on too many trek's when I watch a lad as weak as a newborn babe just slap on some magic cords and suddenly he's slinging gear like nobody's business."
He grunts.
"We all got ways to make ourself's handy, no harm in using your talents to pitch in and lend a hand... But I figure that it don't hurt none to do a little lifting on your own once and a while, not just get some invisible servant to cart things around for you," he says with a sardonic tone, as if recalling a particular incident in his youth.
"As for me? Well, like I said... spellslinger's alright, I reckon - but if it's all you go to lean on... Ah hell," he says with a shrug.
"Anyhow - spells or steel - sorcery or lead... We all got our preference's on doing a job," he adds, adjusting the strap to his musket.
I think I'll stick with my trusty bow. That's the way Erastil prefers it.
David turns and takes a drag on his smoke, glancing at the newcomer and nods, tipping his hat.
"Ah! Sounds like you're one of those lads into religiousity and the like."
He glances at the others, then back to the half-elf.
"So what's your story, lad?" he asks with a friendly smile.
As he takes a drag from the cheroot he notices someone moving toward him out of the corner of his eye.
"I can assure you," he starts, looking Paul straight in the eye, "we must work for every ounce of magic we can weave. I did not wake suddenly one day, and poof - suddenly begin channeling the All-Seeing Eye's power. Decades of study and devotion are what allow me to 'wiggle my fingers and let things be done for me.'"
He turns to the newcomer.
"Whoa, whoa! Ease up there, son," he says looking at him holding his hands up as if to ward off a threat.
"Look, like I told the boy before; I got no issue with folks using magic and all - I just ain't keen on them using it as a crutch is all."
He studies the man thoughtfully, his eyes roaming over the lad's physique; noting his build, his figure and his size and glancing at the staff that the lad holds.
He smiles a little.
"But hell, I reckon we're all free to our opinions, eh?" he says, his hand dropping casually to brush his duster away from his hip as he rests his palm on his belt.
Gii's brows ease back into their normal shape and his hand unclenches from around the grip of his staff. He adjusts his spectacles with his free hand, sighing lightly. "That I can understand. There are indeed those who let their power rule them, who are as much a slave to their own magics, as I am a devotee to Nethys." The young man coughs into his free hand, and says, "You must excuse me. I am nothing if not a scholar of magics. It is..." he pauses for a moment, trying to find the right words, "unpleasant to hear people speak ill of them."
Brat immediately turns to look at Gil curiously, his eyes alight beneath the rose tinted goggles he wore. A nervous hand reaches up to fasten his hat more firmly to his head as he says, "You a magic user huh?" His voice was both curious and nervous, though that was perhaps not strange given the dangers some magic users presented.
"You're not one of them... devil summoning folk or undead diddling one's, are ya?" The fact that both the man and Bart agreed that magic was more then just a waggle of the fingers did make the lad a bit less interested in running, but he still had to ask the question just in case. Cheliax in particular had a large amount of magic users proud of binding infernal things to their will.
Gii turns to the younger man, shaking his head. "No, I am not. I specialize in creation and strengthening magics. Great Nethys allows me to work his will through spellcraft. While he is both creator and destroyer, I do not generally favor the latter," the scholar states, looking ever so slightly offended.
This is a chance to just have some fun, no dice rolls/checks, just playing out your character how you've envisaged them. No pressure, okay? :) Just jump in and get your feet wet -- as much as you want.
"That I can understand. There are indeed those who let their power rule them, who are as much a slave to their own magics, as I am a devotee to Nethys."
Paul scratches his beard a little as he listens, his eyes raising suddenly at the last comment.
"You must excuse me. I am nothing if not a scholar of magics. It is..." he pauses for a moment, trying to find the right words, "unpleasant to hear people speak ill of them."
He nods.
"Hell, no worries, padre... Everybody's got to stick up for what they believe in," he says with a little grin, his hand moving away from his belt as the duster slides forward comfortably around him.
"You keep on doing what you got to do - you're all right in my book," he says reaching clap the man warmly on his back.
I admit the coincidence required for 9 people going to the exact same place for the same reason meeting on the same road on the same night is a bit much from a story perspective.
"Nethys, Nethys..." Bart taps his chin, holding his straw between two fingers lazily as he does. The name sounded familiar, but how Bart couldn't say for certain. At least, not at first.
'Hey, Alar, you know who Nethys is?' Bart sent a silent question to his companion, who continued to hide in the shadows somewhere nearby. He was good enough to even avoid notice from the dog which Bart thought was surprising given the animals senses, but in a good way.
'The avatar of Magic? You read about him in that book about otherwordly beings and planes.' The voice was curious, Bart could tell, though how he could tell was uncertain. It didn't sound curious because it didn't sound anything. It felt it though.
'Oh, right, thanks Alar! Bart grins. The short conversation with Alar had happened at the speed of thought taking maybe a second or two. His distant expression explained away by the obviously thinking posture he had taken on, and his starry eyes once again hidden as he tapped into his magic, Bart replies, "He's the god of magic or something isn't he? I kinda figure he doesn't really care one way or another what kind does he? Doesn't really help your case about not being a monster creeper or something."
Bart's head tilted to the side momentarily as if he had heard a noise, Alar sending another sending to the lad. 'Why did you wish to know?'
Bart could feel the curiosity again, as well as a touch of loneliness and even worry. The guardian was rarely away from Bart's side out here in the wilds and the young lad could understand his friends feelings. He sent back what was hopefully the mental equivalent of a hug and replied, 'Some guy here was talking about him. 'Parently he can do magic too. Might want to stay out of his sight by the way, just in case he's looking. He's the one with the stick and the glasses.'
'Are you in any danger?' The feeling of loneliness ebbed, but the concern grew stronger.
'Nah, I don't think so. Just bein careful is all. Don't worry, I'll be back with you soon.' Bart could feel the Lion's uncertainty, but again the creature acquiesced. The young lad was grateful for his friends trust and didn't realize he had started smiling again until he thought he felt a couple people looking at him. "Not trying to offend ya or anything. Can't be too careful in this part of the world is all. Sometimes, there's the guys who you can spend hours talkin theory with. And sometimes there's the ones that end up foaming at the mouth."
He grins at the man across from him, this time on purpose, and asks, "What sort of stuff does Nethys teach, really, if all he's interested in is magic and stuff? Not many life lessons coming from him I'm guessing."
"e's the god of magic or something isn't he? I kinda figure he doesn't really care one way or another what kind does he?"
Paul looks at the boy with surprise at the comment, his eyes flicking to Gii to see how the man takes the comment about his god.
"Doesn't really help your case about not being a monster creeper or something."
Paul turns from Gii to eye Bart with an almost amused expression on his face.
"Well, son - I reckon if he really were some kind of gods damned monster that he'd pry not be telling you square on the matter one way or the other," he says with a little grin.
Bart glances to Paul and frowns a little, then sticks out his tongue rather childishly. "Don't hurt none to try. Well... Okay, might have gotten his knickers in a bunch a little and for that I'm sorry, but still! This is bloody Cheliax. If you've ever been chased by an imp for being a little late with a delivery you'd know it's better to be careful!"
Bart starts swinging his legs idly as he plucks the straw from his mouth to speak more clearly, "Not to mention some of them do tell ya, and proudly at that. All 'I can summon three devils more then ya' or 'beware my mighty undead badger!'" The youth shakes his head, scoffing a little. "Like they know any real magic. They're just guys hirin goons usin a different kind of purse. Sure, summonin's tricky, but still..."
The lad coughs and blushes as he realizes he revealed just a tad too much and says, "I mean, so I hear of course. Never tried it myself."
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Paul turns from Gii to eye Bart with an almost amused expression on his face.
"Well, son - I reckon if he really were some kind of gods damned monster that he'd pry not be telling you square on the matter one way or the other," he says with a little grin.
The conversation turns out to be too much for Ayreth and she bursts out laughing pleasantly. "Be careful, you boys are about to do your own magic and pop friend Gii's eyes right out."
"Don't hurt none to try. Well... Okay, might have gotten his knickers in a bunch a little and for that I'm sorry, but still! This is bloody Cheliax. If you've ever been chased by an imp for being a little late with a delivery you'd know it's better to be careful!"
Paul looks at Bart curiously.
"You mean 'Imp' like the little demon-basterd? Or do you mean 'Imp' like those bloody 'Imp'-erial whores that go around trying to lean on folk and grind 'em under their poxing, blood-mucked heel?" he says with a frown, as if recalling something dark from his youth.
But before he gets an answer, the lad continues...
"Not to mention some of them do tell ya, and proudly at that. All 'I can summon three devils more then ya' or 'beware my might undead badger!'" The youth shakes his head, scoffing a little. "Like they know any real magic. They're just guys hirin goons usin a different kind of purse. Sure, summonin's tricky, but still..."
The lad coughs and blushes as he realizes he revealed just a tad too much and says, "I mean, so I hear of course. Never tried it myself."
Paul nods.
"Aye - they're basterds alright..." he says with a growl, agreeing with the boy; though perhaps for different reasons then Bart may have...
The dwarf's fingers worked nimbly on the third garment for the elder man's children. He chuckled as he worked, occasionally puffing on his pipe. The wolfhound glanced across at his master -- his head tilted as if wondering at the master's mood. Cur had not moved from where he sat - not even to take any food offered to him. He did sniff the air then growled low and returned to his observant stance.
"So many tales, so many ideals." The squinting eyes lifted to assess them all momentarily. He licked the end of the thread and pushed it through the eye of the needle. His stare was shrewd, but again the dwarf laughed as if he was merely making a quip, as he worked.
Turning his squinting eyes on Gii, he inclined his head at the service to his wagon. "A fair job at fixing my wagon. You have my gratitude. I will not be very late on my delivery, now."
"He's the god of magic or something isn't he? I kinda figure he doesn't really care one way or another what kind does he? Doesn't really help your case about not being a monster creeper or something."
Gii runs a hand through his hair, looking slightly incredulous. "I will forgive your ignorance on the matter. The All-Seeing Eye is not well-understood by those outside, peering in," he states tersely. "Whatever the case, I have no intentions to use my power to subjugate anything. Whether you choose to believe it or not is up to you."
Paul turns from Gii to eye Bart with an almost amused expression on his face.
"Well, son - I reckon if he really were some kind of gods damned monster that he'd pry not be telling you square on the matter one way or the other," he says with a little grin.
The Nethian gives Paul a short look that reads 'You are not helping.'
Bart glances to Paul and frowns a little, then sticks out his tongue rather childishly. "Don't hurt none to try. Well... Okay, might have gotten his knickers in a bunch a little and for that I'm sorry, but still! This is bloody Cheliax. If you've ever been chased by an imp for being a little late with a delivery you'd know it's better to be careful!"
Bart starts swinging his legs idly as he plucks the straw from his mouth to speak more clearly, "Not to mention some of them do tell ya, and proudly at that. All 'I can summon three devils more then ya' or 'beware my might undead badger!'" The youth shakes his head, scoffing a little. "Like they know any real magic. They're just guys hirin goons usin a different kind of purse. Sure, summonin's tricky, but still..."
The lad coughs and blushes as he realizes he revealed just a tad too much and says, "I mean, so I hear of course. Never tried it myself."
Another long sigh issues from Gii's mouth. "I am not from these parts. I was born and raised in Absalom, and it is only within the last year that I have come to this forsaken land. How the spellcasters of Cheliax carry themselves does not mean I am anything like them." He glosses over the boy's statement, detecting that the boy's slip probably implies he knows more than he is saying. Pushing his spectacles up on his nose, Gii pointedly says nothing more to the boy.
Blue Heron listens carefully to the talk of magic and demons. She did not know of this Nethys. As far as she knew Qi Zhong taught mortals wizardry and the children of Nalinivati spread the gift of sorcery amongst the many races. But, then again, barbarians often got excited about the oddest things and had the most curious beliefs. Still, in matters of faith, she would denigrate no one who did no harm. To do otherwise would dishonor the Master of Masters.
She did intervene when the boy spoke of demons. "Fear not, little one. If oni appeared from dark night, I would overcome them."
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The dwarf's fingers worked nimbly on the third garment for the elder man's children. He chuckled as he worked, occasionally puffing on his pipe. The wolfhound glanced across at his master -- his head tilted as if wondering at the master's mood. Cur had not moved from where he sat - not even to take any food offered to him. He did sniff the air then growled low and returned to his observant stance.
"So many tales, so many ideals." The squinting eyes lifted to assess them all momentarily. He licked the end of the thread and pushed it through the eye of the needle. His stare was shrewd, but again the dwarf laughed as if he was merely making a quip, as he worked.
Turning his squinting eyes on Gii, he inclined his head at the service to his wagon. "A fair job at fixing my wagon. You have my gratitude. I will not be very late on my delivery, now."
Ayreth looks around at the motley group that has gathered. It could be a coincidence. She thinks back to some of the other cues from the dwarf and how several of the group had already mentioned Dustpawn as their intended destination. Coincidence?! Hardly...
"You don't mean your textiles, do you?"
Bart frowns at the serious faced man, then sighs and hops off his rock. He walks toward the guy, his head low for a moment, and when he looks up it seemed judging from his expression that he was trying to think of what to say. "Look. I don't mean any insult to ya. I was born in these lands and you really can't be too careful when it comes ta people who can do magic."
His expression becomes screwed up for a moment before he, to what seems a bit of distaste, offers the guy a hand to shake. "Apologies. I'm James. Maybe sometime tonight ya can teach me right about Nethys, so I'll know better next time?"
He glances over to the blue haired woman with some surprising, eyeing her curiously. She didn't look like much of a warrior to be honest, though he couldn't really see much of her beneath the robe. "Nah. Why fight when ya can run? Long as other people aren't in harms way there's no point in duking it out with something like that."
The conversation turns out to be too much for Ayreth and she bursts out laughing pleasantly. "Be careful, you boys are about to do your own magic and pop friend Gii's eyes right out."Paul turns from Gii to eye Bart with an almost amused expression on his face.
"Well, son - I reckon if he really were some kind of gods damned monster that he'd pry not be telling you square on the matter one way or the other," he says with a little grin.
Gii shrugs at the woman, looking significantly more tired than he had while fixing the wagon.
Turning his squinting eyes on Gii, he inclined his head at the service to his wagon. "A fair job at fixing my wagon. You have my gratitude. I will not be very late on my delivery, now."
The Nethian turns when addressed, and bows his head politely at the dwarf. "You are welcome. It was the least I could do for you, stranded here."
When the blue-haired woman begins speaking of oni, Gii cocks an eyebrow. I can't recall if all Tien are like this, he thinks to himself, as his face once again reverts to its normal calm.
The conversation turns out to be too much for Ayreth and she bursts out laughing pleasantly. "Be careful, you boys are about to do your own magic and pop friend Gii's eyes right out."
He turns to the woman and tips his hat to her respectfully; the motion almost involuntarily.
Then his gaze roams over as if studying her for what type of weapons or gear she has.
His gaze slides up over her but pauses when he sees her face. He notes her eyes and his own seem to widen in surprise.
He tips his hat respectfully at her.
"Conas ‘tá tú, bhean uasail?"
"How are you, m'lady?"
She pauses before responding to the young man, considering her words. "Fleeing a foe is sometimes the correct choice. For some it is the only proper choice. But for others, letting evil go unopposed would be a grave dishonor."
"You don't mean your textiles, do you?"
The dwarf took a long pull on his pipe and answered, "Aye, lass. Most of me wares are headed for the local mercantile in Dustpawn. These few garments I'm working on for the gentleman there, were not yet sold. Interesting, I did not plan on selling my cloth and bits along the river route."
The Nethian turns when addressed, and bows his head politely at the dwarf. "You are welcome. It was the least I could do for you, stranded here."
"You got manners, boy. I like that."
Bart frowns at the serious faced man, then sighs and hops off his rock. He walks toward the guy, his head low for a moment, and when he looks up it seemed judging from his expression that he was trying to think of what to say. "Look. I don't mean any insult to ya. I was born in these lands and you really can't be too careful when it comes ta people who can do magic."
His expression becomes screwed up for a moment before he, to what seems a bit of distaste, offers the guy a hand to shake. "Apologies. I'm James. Maybe sometime tonight ya can teach me right about Nethys, so I'll know better next time?"
Gii seems to consider the young man for a moment, before offering him his own hand. "That's fine," he says while shaking Bart's hand. "Once again, however, I can assure you that you need not be careful around me." The corners of his mouth turn up into just-barely a smile. "If it is knowledge you seek, then I shall most definitely be willing to help you, James."
"You got manners, boy. I like that."
The Nethian turns back towards the merchant, his soft smile still in place. "I would not wish to be stranded in a place like this, myself. Even with your companion here," Gii gestures to Cur, "it is not safe to be alone with all these goods in the middle of nowhere. It is only natural that I would provide any assistance I could."
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Then his gaze roams over as if studying her for what type of weapons or gear she has.
His gaze slides up over her but pauses when he sees her face. He notes her eyes and his own seem to widen in surprise.
He tips his hat respectfully at her.
"Conas ‘tá tú, bhean uasail?"
Ayreth self-consciously pulls her hair across her face to hide one of her eyes behind it. Too late now. I wonder how long it will be until the questions begin. She straightens her back as if righting herself and regaining her composure.
"Tá mé go maith. Go raibh maith agat.
Bart tilts his head to the side, a little surprised by the quick forgiveness. But then again he had asked to learn and he pegged this guy for some sort of teacher. Not because of his attitude, but his look. Glasses of all things! Definitely a teacher. To his credit, Bart did like learning, so it wasn't a lie either. The young man's hand shake wasn't that strong, and he didn't really appear to have much muscle beneath that jacket of his. When he lets go of Gii's hand, he pops his piece of straw back into his mouth.
"Cool! So, what sort of guy is Nethys? Everything I've read on the guy say's he's rather impartial to what magic one uses, so long as its like... to further the understanding of magic in general. Course, I never read any religious text of his so that might have been it. Most of what I read was books some scholars were sending between each other on planar beings and theories. Less fact, more speculation. Get a bit bored on the road sometimes."
"I would not wish to be stranded in a place like this, myself. Even with your companion here," Gii gestures to Cur, "it is not safe to be alone with all these goods in the middle of nowhere. It is only natural that I would provide any assistance I could."
The dwarf eyed the stranger and grinned. "Who, Cur? He wouldn't hurt a fly." The dwarf whistled past the pipe in his mouth and the wolf hound stood immediately and walked around the wagon, ensuring his master's wares were untouched. The dwarf gave a second lower whistle (which was a feat in itself with the ornate long pipe in his mouth) and Cur returned to his previous position, staring at the gathering with dark eyes.
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The dwarf took a long pull on his pipe and answered, "Aye, lass. Most of me wares are headed for the local mercantile in Dustpawn. These few garments I'm working on for the gentleman there, were not yet sold. Interesting, I did not plan on selling my cloth and bits along the river route."
"Dustpawn again..."
The dwarf's fingers worked nimbly on the third garment for the elder man's children. He chuckled as he worked, occasionally puffing on his pipe. The wolfhound glanced across at his master -- his head tilted as if wondering at the master's mood. Cur had not moved from where he sat - not even to take any food offered to him. He did sniff the air then growled low and returned to his observant stance.
As Paul turns his gaze from the petite woman, he glances at the dwarf and notices that the fellow is smoking a pipe.
He walks over to him.
"Well met, sir," he says tipping his hat to the dwarf.
He sniffs the tobacco smoke and nods.
"You got a good smoke there," he says as he inhales it with a contented smile.
"I favor pipeweed from down near Southfarthing meself, but that there's got a good aroma; rich and fine," he adds.
He looks at the others thoughtfully, then turns back to the dwarf.
"Begging your pardon, but I'm new to these here parts - heading towards a berg called "Dustpan"."
"Don't know where the rest of these folk are planning on trekking, but if you're headed that way, I'd enjoy the company a piece, if you've a mind?" he adds.
Bart tilted his head to the other side again as the whistle caught his attention. He looks over to the dwarf, a bit surprised with the way everyone was talking to him. Not part of the same group? Weird. "Not so much on the manners. Don't get those on the street's. But I had a friend who said if you done wrong someone who don't deserve it, you apologize like a mature person about it and try and make amends."
Ziggy was actually talking about debts and partners and so on in that regard. The less people you owed, the less people that came looking for ya. But Bart had always thought the halfling was nicer then he let on. Why help a poor kid like him if not?