Quietly eating his meal, Choraak thinks, "more work from the woman? I agreed to one simple delivery job, not to be absent from the tribe on a continuing thread of errands. No, let's get these things delivered, and I will take my earnings and feed the tribe for a year."
Jaro notices Dorian casting a spell.
But Jaro doesn't know what spell Darion is casting. What in the nine Hells is Dorian doing?
Are all elves so strange?
Falstaff examines his stew, pondering the flavour as he absently prods it. I wonder if it would taste better if we had some thyme? Or maybe if we had catfish? I do love a good batter-fried catfish...
Falstaff turns to the old human. "Do you think this stew would be improved if we added catfish?" He whispers quietly.
"Interesting proposal," Marcaius answers back to the gnoll. "I think that it would, although it's far too late to go fishing at this time of night. I once travelled through a catfish farm in Outsea over in the River Kingdoms several years ago. The nice fellow who ran it told me that catfish like to retreat to the mud in the evening. However, he also said that there was a rather large specimen who propelled the deep waters at all hours and was quite feared by the locals for its size and prodigious appetite."
"Therefore I suggest that we save some of this stew for the morning if we're going to go fishing, unless we can acquire a large harpoon, in which case we can leave right now."
Aviz goes and physically checks the cart after it is scanned for magic.
Aviz goes and physically checks the cart after it is scanned for magic.
Falstaff spots Aviz out of the corner of his eye, and notices the stillness around the campfire.
Whoops, did I miss something? Aviz and Jaro look like they are ready to go.
Falstaff quickly brushes himself off, coughing quietly.
Marcais sops up the last of his meal with a hunk of bread and starts to get ready for his evening prayers.