Keeping his features neutral as Balthus seems to honestly answer him. While I do not agree with what you said about the Dwarves. I do agree with you concerning the Lizardfolk.
Sitting down with his back to a tree and letting Ursa crawl onto his lap before continuing, From what we were told of the conversation with the dead Dwarf they do not care what happens to the Lizardfolk. From what we know so far the Lizardfolk do seem the more reasonable one.
Scratching behind Ursa's ears and taking a moment to think before just continuing. As much as I am sure many would disagree it is only an extra 2 days if the road is altered so that the Lizardfolk are not moved. I am only mentioning that because the Dwarves have little to no regard for the lives of others. It would only be two days and roads are never straight anyways.
Making sure to meet Balthus in the eye before finishing, So I suppose yes I do. Due to the nature of what the Dwarves what and how they desire it to be accomplished I am disinclined to want to give them what they want. And I refuse to be party to the decimation of any peoples. All that would do is further the bigotry and hostility.
Anthuria accepts Oakbrow's offer of a token with an awkward hug, unsure of the proper way to thank a venerable druid of the Vale.
"What about you? Any preconceptions or prejudices before the meeting?"
"I for one am extremely keen on meeting these lizardfolk. I've met quite a few dwarves in my day, but never a lizard. At least, nothing larger than a psuedodragon."
I refuse to be party to the decimation of any peoples. All that would do is further the bigotry and hostility.
"Well said, Amund," Anthuria says as she places her hand on the large oak under which Amund sits and treading carefully around its circumference, tiptoing through its emergent roots.
"My father used to say," she says absently, staring up into the leaves, "that compromise is a necessity, but never a desired goal. It brings peace and harmony, but not happiness. Happiness is just something that happens to you when you've made good choices."
"Maybe...maybe we should accept that we can't make either the dwarves or the lizardfolk happy, whatever we do. We just need to show them they can't walk away from this with what they want, but they can have what they need to ensure their future in the Vale."
Scratching behind Ursa's ears and taking a moment to think before just continuing. As much as I am sure many would disagree it is only an extra 2 days if the road is altered so that the Lizardfolk are not moved. I am only mentioning that because the Dwarves have little to no regard for the lives of others. It would only be two days and roads are never straight anyways.
Balthus nodded, "I was thinking the same thing. If the dwarves only turn their road east when they exit the mountain and then tie in to our road at the southern tip of the forest, I think the problem will be solved."
He added, "Let's hope the lizardmen don;t have any sensitive areas on the eastern edge of their swamp."
He looked at Anthuria, "Trust me, I've already accepted that the dwarves won't be happy with any compromise. But as long as they accept a compromise and stick to it, then I'm OK with that."
Jetta sits down on a rock and starts honing the blade on her halberd, listening absently to the conversation as they wait for Perry to finish his ritual.
And I refuse to be party to the decimation of any peoples. All that would do is further the bigotry and hostility.
The Hellknight pauses for a moment, glancing impassively at Amund from under her brows.
"I'm not looking forward to fighting the lizardfolk," she says. "They have the advantage of terrain, and we don't have the men to both protect the fort and go hunting for them in the swamp. But we have to prepare for the possibility of open hostilities. Would you rather let them slaughter our workers than fight back?"
She returns to sharpening her weapon, whetstone scraping against the blackened iron of the infernally forged polearm. "We don't have the forces to stop the dwarves from wiping them out either. It's up to the lizards."
Upon making camp, Percival finds a quiet area on the clearing's edge, lying the lizardman out as best he can. It's clear the hulking reptilian died struggling - his face is frozen in a deep snarl, and his claws still have bits of spider carapace and ichor staining their beds. Setting into the now-familiar ritual, Percival sets his hand over the lizardman's eyes, murmuring a long, verbose prayer; when he finishes, the snarl continues where it had left off, a wordless growl of defiance. When he finally falls quiet, the Abadaran priest murmurs a greeting, but the question only brings a rapid-fire barrage of strange, sibilant speech, incomprehensible to the lord - though there's one present who grasps its meaning.
Dragon-tongue, Katsa confirms, rising from her spot next to the fire. Her tent sits slightly apart from the others, dyed in a splash of colors in stark contrast to the drab white canvas of the fort-issued ones; next to it, her greying donkey is picketed, munching on a mouthful of grass. It doesn't seem like he understands you - it's just the sound of speech he latched onto. He wants to know what's happened - where the eight-legs went...why it's so dark. Something about...building a fire, so the blood within him can warm to wake him. Ask your questions - I'll translate so he can understand.
1. What is the nature of the relations the tribe expressed interest in pursuing with the fort? Military alliance versus regional threats, economic alliance for trade purposes, etc.?
After a few moments of Katsa murmuring the translation, the toothy mouth twists into an expression of confusing - unnerving, with the eyes so still. The harrower translates as the lizardman replies. It doesn't seem he knows much about the matter...he knows about the "soft skin walls", but he says dealing with the soft skins would have been Kassmak's concern. Their chieftain, I'd guess? Could be this man wasn't high enough in this Kassmak's counsels to know his intentions - and he's been dead for some time. Maybe Kassmak hadn't even decided to engage yet when he departed.
2. Relationship with the dwarves and nature of past dealings.
At the angry barrage that erupts following Katsa's translation, the fortune-teller smiles. The dwarves of Skelt he knows a bit more about, it seems. He says their greed is the stuff of legend among the Turessks, and that they steal whatever they get their hands on. He keeps talking about a boneyard - that they "disturbed the sacred boneyard searching for treasures of the dead to sate their lust". Apparently they didn't realize the lizardfolk don't leave treasures with their dead...but the desecration stings all the same.
3. Willingness of the tribe to compromise with selling a strip of land for a road.
Well...he's not happy about the thought, for sure. Indeed, it's not hard to tell; the lizardman's elongated s-sounds have escalated nearly to hisses, and his words are punctuated with small snaps of his teeth. He just keeps saying, "Kassmak cannot allow it."
The Hellknight pauses for a moment, glancing impassively at Amund from under her brows."I'm not looking forward to fighting the lizardfolk," she says. "They have the advantage of terrain, and we don't have the men to both protect the fort and go hunting for them in the swamp. But we have to prepare for the possibility of open hostilities. Would you rather let them slaughter our workers than fight back?"
She returns to sharpening her weapon, whetstone scraping against the blackened iron of the infernally forged polearm. "We don't have the forces to stop the dwarves from wiping them out either. It's up to the lizards."
Turning to look at the Hellknight, Of course there is the chance that it turns bloody. Should the Lizardfolk choose to attack us then I would fight. My loyalty is to the Fort first.
Taking a deep breath and trying to keep the irritation out of his voice with minimal success. I have no idea what I said to make you think that I would stand by twiddling my thumbs while blood is being shed in this Vale. I have met every threat right there with you. The once calm and happy puppy in his lap has gone still and lets out a low whine.
Amund takes a moment to school his features and calm his voice before continuing. And no it is not just up to the Liardfolk, lizards are not part of this. We as the voice of the Fort, the Dwarves, and the Lizardfolk are the ones it is up to. I for one want a solution that does not end in bloodshed. This is not about appeasing the Dwarves. It is about doing what is right.
"I for one want a solution that does not end in bloodshed."
"I"m sure we would all hope for such an outcome," Anthuria says, emphasizing the "all" and looking toward Jetta. "I certainly don't wish to see the indigenous peoples here run out or worse. Korvosa's done quite enough of that against the Shoanti, and I would hope that history can teach us valuable lessons about responsible stewardship, assuming we're keen to learn them."
"But Jetta, I do agree with your principle here. Fort Thorn may be new, but its inhabitants are innocent men and women and we should proceed cautiously, with an understanding that violence may be imminent."
Turning to look at the Hellknight, Of course there is the chance that it turns bloody. Should the Lizardfolk choose to attack us then I would fight. My loyalty is to the Fort first.
Taking a deep breath and trying to keep the irritation out of his voice with minimal success. I have no idea what I said to make you think that I would stand by twiddling my thumbs while blood is being shed in this Vale. I have met every threat right there with you. The once calm and happy puppy in his lap has gone still and lets out a low whine.
The Hellknight continues to sharpen her weapon, oblivious to any perturbation in Amund's voice.
"I don't doubt your loyalty," she says. "I just wanted to hear you say it."
Amund takes a moment to school his features and calm his voice before continuing. And no it is not just up to the Liardfolk, lizards are not part of this. We as the voice of the Fort, the Dwarves, and the Lizardfolk are the ones it is up to. I for one want a solution that does not end in bloodshed. This is not about appeasing the Dwarves. It is about doing what is right.
"No. It is about building a road," Jetta says between scrapes of metal against metal. "The dwarves don't care about the lizardfolk, or doing what's right. Neither will the merchants funding our mission, or the Crimson Throne. One way or another, the lizardfolk will have to be the ones who bend. Otherwise, they'll be wiped out. That's the truth of it."
"I for one want a solution that does not end in bloodshed.""I"m sure we would all hope for such an outcome," Anthuria says, emphasizing the "all" and looking toward Jetta. "I certainly don't wish to see the indigenous peoples here run out or worse. Korvosa's done quite enough of that against the Shoanti, and I would hope that history can teach us valuable lessons about responsible stewardship, assuming we're keen to learn them."
"But Jetta, I do agree with your principle here. Fort Thorn may be new, but its inhabitants are innocent men and women and we should proceed cautiously, with an understanding that violence may be imminent."
Jetta thinks back on all her encounters with Shoanti tribesmen, and all the other wild things that she has had to cut down in the name of her order. Could all of that have been avoided? Would one silver tongue been enough to prevent all the bloodshed? Had there ever really been room for compromise? She pauses for a moment and then nods at Anthuria.
"I've no wish to fight them if we don't have to," she says evenly. "But if they won't back down, I stand ready to do my duty."
Scowling at Jetta but keeping his silence until she is finished. Turning his gaze down to the overgrown lap dog and rubbing his face. Not bothering to look back up as he replies with a clearly forced calm in his voice. Firstly Hellknight if you do not doubt my loyalty then you would not have needed to hear me say it.
Scowl deepening and grabbing a stick then tossing it for Ursa to chase. Never taking his eyes off the puppy as he continues. Yes the technical reason we are here is to help build a road. And because the Lizardfolk are the 'other' in this situation they will be the one to get the shaft. I already assumed that.
Grabbing the stick Ursa brings back, Good boy. and throwing it again. To state my intent as clearly as possible. I do not want to have this road built on the bloody corpses of any peoples. The completion of the road is my top priority but I will not accomplish my duty in what I deem an evil manner. If the Lizardfolk are unwilling to make a compromise and demand battle then I will meet them there. The Dwarves will benefit from this road and they too will need to bend.
Grabbing the stick that has returned and starting a game of tug-o-war. All of the groups you mentioned do not care about what is right but we are the ones here doing the talking so our opinions count for much more than what they normally do. I intend to use this opportunity to its fullest.
Still tugging on the stick but finally looking up at Jetta, Is that clear enough? My goals transparent enough or do I need to illuminate further?
|
It doesn't seem he knows much about the matter...he knows about the "soft skin walls", but he says dealing with the soft skins would have been Kassmak's concern. Their chieftain, I'd guess? Could be this man wasn't high enough in this Kassmak's counsels to know his intentions - and he's been dead for some time. Maybe Kassmak hadn't even decided to engage yet when he departed.
"That is unfortunate. I had believed him to be an emissary to us who has the authority to talk. why else would he have been so far from home?" mused Percival to Kasta.
The dwarves of Skelt he knows a bit more about, it seems. He says their greed is the stuff of legend among the Turessks, and that they steal whatever they get their hands on. He keeps talking about a boneyard - that they "disturbed the sacred boneyard searching for treasures of the dead to sate their lust". Apparently they didn't realize the lizardfolk don't leave treasures with their dead...but the desecration stings all the same.
"The event that instigated hostilities. Very good. We didn't know about this, nor did the dwarves hint at anything."
Well...he's not happy about the thought, for sure. Indeed, it's not hard to tell; the lizardman's elongated s-sounds have escalated nearly to hisses, and his words are punctuated with small snaps of his teeth. He just keeps saying, "Kassmak cannot allow it."
"Kassmak it is, then," Percival nodded, remembering any honorific terms, and headed to the group, where the heated discussion raged.
"Now that's quite enough. Finding a compromise between the lizardfolk and the dwarves is conductive to the continued stability and prosperity for the Vale, and makes completing our mission easier," said Percival, looking over Balthus, Amund, Jetta, and Anthuria.
"But it is ultimately outside the scope of our mission, no matter how far we move the goalposts. We must impress upon both (indeed, upon all parties in this region) that we are the prime power in this vale: anything that happens goes because we helped facilitate it, and there is no proverbial cookie jar without our hands in it. That is why we're bringing the corpses of both back to their people as a preliminary gesture of goodwill and ability, that's why (in our dealings with Oakbrow and the fey) we gave and took in turn, and that is why I employ my considerable talents in finding a way to have them both play nicely. If they don't, then we simply assess our role in the coming conflict and position ourselves to gain the most of it."
The lord-priest then placed the circlet of persuasion upon his brow, and said, "Politics is remarkably close to business. I can tell if either party (lizardfolk or dwarf) wants to compromise or wants to stall, and I will inform you. Since you both agreed to fight whatever poses a threat to us, I can safely say that this discussion has ran its natural course, and everyone made their opinion known."
The lord-priest then placed the circlet of persuasion upon his brow, and said, "Politics is remarkably close to business. I can tell if either party wants to compromise or wants to stall, and that will be the point where I will inform you. Since you both agreed to fight whatever party poses a threat, I can safely say that this discussion has ran its natural course, and everyone made their opinion known."
Balthus took a puff from his pipe and raised an eyebrow at Perry.
"Well, where's that coming from? We're all here talking and planning our mission. There's no need to get preachy with us. Save it fro your flock."
He looked at Amund and Jetta, "If you mean them then it's OK. They're both hot-blooded and are making their points. I won't let it come to blows. So just relax, Lord Perry."
Jetta makes no immediate response, calmly allowing Perry and Balthus to intervene. She puts aside her whetstone, takes out a rag, and thoroughly cleans the blade of her halberd. Then she brings it to eye level in order to inspect the sharpness of the edge. Only after finally putting her weapon down does she respond, though she does not make her answer directly at Amund.
"I have no opinions on the matter," she says. "Those are the realities of the situation, to the best of my knowledge. Nothing more, nothing less."
Seeing that the conversation has come to an end Amund tosses the stick for the puppy again. But that statement sits with him, bothering him. What do you mean you have no opinion?
Jetta tilts her head at Amund, as if the answer were obvious.
"My personal views aren't relevant," she says matter-of-factly. "Hellknights follow orders, and make decisions based on cold, hard facts."
Amund starts at her with a blank face for longer than necessary then pulls his gaze away and returns to playing with Ursa. Content to keep silent for the time.
With tensions somewhat high after the confrontation between the two very different soldiers, everyone finishes their end-of-day business in silence and retires to their tents, Anthuria offering to take first watch this time while Katsa offers to take last watch in the morning. Anthuria finds the sounds of the forest settling to sleep almost soothing; when she rouses Amund for second watch, it's all she can do to keep her own eyes open. Amund sits by the fire for a while, watching the flames' light dance against the trees and trying to capture the effect of the mesmerizing shadows in his sketchbook. After his two hours of watch pass, he goes to wake Balthus for the hunter's turn...
Crouching down to tap Balthus on the shoulder. Seeing the older man open his eyes Amund mumbles, It's your shift.
Crouching down to tap Balthus on the shoulder. Seeing the older man open his eyes Amund mumbles, It's your shift.
Balthus' brief crazy-eyed look goes away as he recognizes Amund.
Grunting and scratching his private parts, the old man gets up from his bedroll. He was still in his armor, having learned to sleep fully clothed years ago.
Before he takes his post, he hears some sounds just north of the campsite. He puts a firm hand on Amund's shoulder preventing him from going to sleep.
"Come with me, kid. I think I hear something..."
______________
At Balthus's warning, Amund quickly exits his tent out the back end while Balthus melts into the undergrowth, at home in the forest he's worked in most of his life. Amund, while he makes a noble effort, struggles a bit with his tent flap; he makes his way under cover of the brush as quickly as he can, but without Balthus's long forest experience it's a harder go. Working their way into the undergrowth, the two search for the source of the noise, and several moments later it becomes more than evident - Balthus notices three strong, tall figures pulling back the strings of their bows among the trees, their eyes trained on the younger soldier, their scrunched faces, broad noses, and gimlet eyes all too familiar to the ranger - hobgoblins! Amund notices another off to the east...just a little too late.
Balthus wrinkled his nose. Goblinoids. And only three. Pfft.
His cockiness was quickly replaced by the fact that he was not alone and that most were still sleeping. What if the girl was caught in her sleep?
Three things happened in quick succession. Balthus called out a warning to Anthuria, he whistled to wake up that lazy dog of his and get him over here, and he stepped forward and attacked with his axe.
________________
As Balthus charges one of the hobgoblins and slashes with his axe, the hobgoblin drops his bow and pulls forth a wicked-looking scythe, echoing Balthus' own attack. As he charges, three more arrows twang in unison, two finding their mark in Amund's chest and arm and one whizzing past his head. From behind, Amund hears a not-quite-appropriate word barked out in Varisian - Katsa emerges from her tent and quickly reaches for her harrow deck, drawing a card forth and flashing it face-first toward Amund. The man enthroned on its face rises in a spectral image, growing and rushing forth to merge with Amund's form as he feels a strange rush of strength.
"...don't pour the tea on the biscuits, Oakbrow. Mama doesn't like them soggy."
Anthuria's groggy, non-sensical dream-talk registers to her consciousness as her eyes flutter open. Grateful that no one was around to hear her gibberish, she turns over to fall back asleep. But something is wrong. There are noises in the woods. Balthus's cries, a shrill whistle, Slasher's howl.
We're under attack!
She struggles to crawl out of her bedroll, but she has become so tangled in the coarse fabric that she trips over herself, crawling awkwardly out into the night. The others are awakened too, as the sounds of combat issue from the north.
"Balthus! Amund!" Barefoot, she rushes through the darkened woods, with little idea where she is running, toward the sounds of combat.
It is always the damn chest. Taking quick steps to the creature of to the right of him Amund slides his sword out and it lights up. With two hands he swings at the Hobgoblin.
or
Balthus grunts as he's nicked by the scythe. He grips his battleaxe harder and chops down on the hobgoblin.
Meanwhile, Slasher comes running, leaping over small objects to be by his master's side. He smelled goblinoid and his tuft hairs responded
___________
Jetta stirs in her tent, instinctively going for her shield and weapon before her waking mind even has time to process the sounds of combat coming from outside. Endless midnight drills made sure that she was a light sleeper, even when back in the safety of civilisation. There would be no time to don her plate, but this was of no consequence. A Hellknight was a Hellknight, in or out of armour.
"One shouldn't grow too complacent," Venn had often said during her training. "Armour makes men feel invincible, but for big enough beast you'll only seem like a canned meal..."
Yellow: 5/47
Blue, green, orange: 47/47
Jolted into awakeness, everyone rushes from tents and prepares to deal with the sudden threat. Perry and Jetta stumble from their tents and ready themselves, while Anthuria emerges and rushes forward to get a better view of the situation. Meanwhile, the two who had been on watch lash out at their foes; Balthus's axe thuds against the leg of the hobgoblin he faces, but even with the strange good fortune the harrower wishes upon him, Amund's swing goes wide, his flaming sword a banner in the night.
Seeing Jetta emerging from her tent, Katsa draws forth another card from her deck; a stern figure carrying a chain drifts forth, merging into Jetta's own form as the Hellknight feels a sudden sense of solidity, a certainty in her skill beyond even what Hellknight training has instilled. As the ethereal figure drifts forward, the old harrower begins to chant in rolling Varisian, an old song wishing long life and an open road ahead.
The hobgoblin engaging Balthus draws forth a second blade as he slashes at the ranger with the sickle already in hand; in his panic, though, the swing goes wide. Amund shares the same good fortune - the hobgoblin before him drops his bow and pulls out his own sickle to swing, but the cut is stopped by his breastplate. With Amund further among the trees, the other ambushers lack a clear shot at the soldier, and their attention shifts to Balthus. Both draw back their bows and fire another shot, but neither can penetrate the older man's armor.
Anthuria's eyes swiftly adjust to the darkness, her pupils dilating as she takes in the scene. In the moonlight, hulking figures strike from behind the trees.
Trying not to draw attention herself, she slips behind a tree, but not before asking for a little help from the forest.
Almost doubting that he actually hit in the night, the ranger once more attacks. Axe goes up and axe goes down.
Balthus' second swing goes wide as the hobgoblin succumbs to his blade.
The ranger then directed Slasher towards another one, "This one's down, lazy, good-fer-nothin' dog. Get yourself another one."
___________
Almost doubting that he actually hit in the night...
Almost doubting that he actually hit in the night...
Jetta jumps out of her tent, rushing towards the enemy with a look of grim determination on her face.
"Can we get some light in here!?" she shouts at her allies.
Growing Amund swings again.
Yellow: dead
Blue: 19/47
Green: full, entangled
Orange: full
Anthuria pleads for the forest's help, and the forest answers; the undergrowth springs into action, writhing beneath the bugbears' feet. The closer hobgoblin manages to shift his feet in time to avoid a thick vine snaking around an ankle, but the further is not so lucky - the plants grab and pull at him, distracting him and hampering his movements. Amund's sword flashes again in the darkness, and this time it finds its mark; by the guiding fortune of Abadar's hand, Perry's bolt whooshes through the darkness and finds its mark, despite the darkness and the cover of the trees. Balthus fares equally well - his axe rends his foe's armor and sends the creature crashing to the ground, though Slasher's bite misses and his teeth close on a foul-tasting vine. Jetta stomps through the forest to get to where she can engage with the creatures, while Katsa continues her chant, making her way forward.
The hobgoblin facing Amund slashes with his sickle as he draws another in his off-hand; the slash catches him across the leg, opening a gash. The unentangled hobgoblin to the west weighs his options for a few moments, bow in hand and angry dog on his heels. Then he elects to wade further back into the writhing sea of greenery, trusting to his luck to keep him unentangled - and luck continues to hold out for him as he brandishes his bow to the sky with a rude gesture that needs no translation. The rear hobgoblin attempts to get a shot off, but more plants grab at his hands and drag at his clothing, making his shot go far wide.
Balthus drops his axe and tells his mutt to go help out Amund. He points to the fighting, "There. Go get 'im."
Slasher growls and turns towards Amund and his foe.
He then picks up his bow and starts shooting the fleeing hobgoblin.
__________________
Anthuria clasps her hand over her mouth anxiously when she hears Amund cry out in pain.
"Can we get some light in here!?"
She peers out into the opening ahead of her and waves a hand, conjuring a series of glowing will-o'-wisps that hover lazily in the air near Jetta.
"Two more to the northwest, but watch the vines!" she yells, hoping she hasn't caused more problems than she's solved.
Jetta nods gratefully at Anthuria, slowing her pursuit just in time to not get caught in the crawling vines. As she catches up to the retreating hobgoblins, she does her best to circle around them in order to prevent their escape. When in position, the Hellknight lunges forwards, landing a vicious overhead stab on one of the warlike goblinoids.
"កំហុសដ៏ធំ។," she growls as her weapon finds purchase, with Anthuria's ghost-lights casting her eerily calm face in shadow.
Raising his blade again swinging twice.
As the hobgoblins retreat further into the brush, Jetta wades in to meet them, while Balthus opts to match their tactics and attack from afar. The ranger's first shot goes wide in the dancing shadows, but his second finds its mark in the shoulder of the fleeing raider, Jetta's blade following in quick succession. Meanwhile, Slasher bounds off toward Amund, his fury matching Amund's own as the two together dispatch Amund's foe, Slasher dragging it to the ground before Amund's blade finishes it. Seeing that Amund is out of danger, Katsa moves forward closer to Jetta, ending up silhouetted within Anthuria's dancing lights as her chant continues.
At the dangerous state his cohort is in, the northernmost hobgoblin barks out a short command. ទៅ! លាមករបស់ពួកគេគឺមិនមានតម្លៃវា! Both turn tail and flee into the woods, fighting the grasping plants as they retreat into the darkness. The closer hobgoblin soon becomes the further, his luck holding out as he keeps finding clear footfalls and dodging the lashing vines and plants.
Balthus lined up another shot but never released his string, "Bah, not worth my arrow."
He gathered everyone to make sure none were truly hurt, "Hopefully, they got the message. Sorry to wake you all for a couple of hobgoblins but we didn't know how many there were."
He patted his good-fer-nothin' dog, "You can all go back to sleep. it's my turn to watch and I doubt the goblins will bother us again."
Anthuria sees the creatures retreating from the fray. She cannot help but smile, impressed by the martial abilities of her friends. Remembering the vines, she whispers to them urgently, asking them to relenquish their holds. Then she rushes through through the undergrowth, still barefoot, seeking out Amund and checking him for injuries. "Amund! Are you hurt?!"
____
"You were so brave!" she says to Balthus, cutting him off mid-sentence. "Why, they could have killed us in our slept if not for your warning! I couldn't possibly sleep now, could you?"
Reaching up to feel where the arrows managed to hit him in the chest and while reaching down to feel where his leg is bleeding when Anthuria comes running up. Standing up straight again. It is nothing debilitating.
Looking her up and down, You did not take any.. Why are you running around in the dark with no shoes?
Wincing a little as he walks to join the others. Thank you all for getting up so quickly. Balthus is right that we should try to get a little more sleep.