Pox puts his spyglass away and eyes the newcomers. He quietly addresses those in the party named the caravan leaders. "They are desperate men, in flight. Taking them in could provoke whomever they flee from--portals closed can open again--and that would endanger the caravan."
He was also certain the temple would not be inclined to be pleased with the group hiring any old riffraff hiding in the woods.
Dorn shakes his head again. The small one was thinking he was going to weasel his way out of giving him an answer. He wasn't going to let that pass without punishment.
"Clearly you have not heard what I said about us not being fools. Doors closed can be opened, magical or otherwise. I have no interest or need of secretive trouble."
He turns to the other head merchants.
"We should pack up and move a good bit away from here to be safe. We don't need to be camped right outside some portal for any reason. Who knows what else could come out of it. Maybe whatever savaged them, burning holes in metal and freezing them half to death."
He turns back to the pair. Pointing at Kelemvor.
"Sense your more honest then your comrade. You can come along, granted you will be unarmed until you tell me your story and I'm sure you won't turn on us. At worst you'll get your weapon back tomorrow and have a place to sleep and some food tonight. At best you'll have a new guard job tomorrow."
He didn't care for confident fools who didn't know when to keep their mouth shut and their ego's in check. Being exposed after running for your lives and your trying to throw your weight around. What other word was there, maybe idiot. Not only that, he had the manner of someone looking to try something if they could get away with it. He wasn't going to give him the chance.
The Year of the Prince 1357 DR -
The smaller man eyes Dorn, "Is that so? What about you good sir? Care for another pair of guards that fended off magical beasts, Giants, and evil Wizards and lived to tell the tale?" He asks the other mouthy merchant.
The other Merchant turns to Dorn and grins, "Yes, yes I would very much like such a capable pair of guards.
"Lord" Xizurth, much as you like to believe your alliance with the caravan master makes you the leader of this expedition, it does not. This is a consortium, should House Xizurth wish to keep on with us, you'd do well to remember that. House Gundwynd coin is available for you lads. Now Aldon, see to their wounds".
Yet another Merchant chimes in, this one from House Adarbrent, "This is my first trip overland but I do believe that Dorn's counsel is wise. If there is a portal here we should get well away from here. If your new guards bring trouble Lord Gundwynd, you and yours will face it. Alone".
Aldon of Sune begins to heal Kelemvor and Cyric. Cyric picks up a conversation with the Gundwynd Merchant and does not look back at Dorn.
The larger one, Kelemvor, approaches Dorn after being healed while the entire caravan begins to pack and get ready to move.
The guards of course look to Vorik to ensure that he too believes this to be wise counsel, "Don't mind Cyric, he's not one for sharing a tale or doing much of anything when given orders to do so. He's not a bad sort though, had my back through the Jungles of Chult.
I assure you, whatever we escaped will not be coming after us. If you want to hear the tale be told. I'll do so after camp is moved and reset, it's one worth hearing if for no other reason that the tough lessons we just learned from it". He frowns.
The threat of a fight breaking seemingly passing by, Kyorruel returns his rapier to his sheath.
He smiles a little to see Dorn knocked down a peg or two but says nothing. He doesn't wish to draw any more attention to himself then is needed and sees no need in antagonizing the merchant.
Still it does one good to see the man brought down to his proper level.
Mawj relaxes and sheathes his greataxe. The duo had been accepted into the caravan, and there was little that could be done without attracting unwanted attention. "I would like to hear your tale, Kelemvor. The wilds are too dangerous to ignore good advice."
Kyorruel nods at Mawj's words.
''Yes, I am also interested to hear your tale.''
Ja'far looks to Vorik and nods. He resheaths his elegant blade and whistles for Tanisha to return.
He joins in with Mawj and Kyorruel, he reamain ever quiet and vigilant. He offers a light bow to Kelemvor.
Pox mutters to the party members nearest him, preferably out of earshot of the merchants. "If they were as competent warriors as they claim, they'd have no need to beg for work from the first caravan they came across. I wonder if they are like the man who tried to join us at the beginning of this journey. You know, the one who tried to betray us, and died in the attempt. We may not be so lucky next time."
He knows however that he has no decision making power and does not press the issue now that he has let his opinion known. He goes back to his spot by the fire, his cloak jumping oddly as the tail within lashes in frustration. He resumes his whittling.
Silver sizes the member up and down... Looking to see if they have anything worth stealing.
Look, strange men bother me, especially when they come from the forest. Too many times have I have been walking around, invited into the kindly stranger's house only to have their head pop off and chance me away!
Dorn simply shrugs at the Gundwynd merchant.
"Indeed, capable enough to flee said creatures. Capable enough to escape you and your guards notice. Not so capable to escape me and mine's."
As the other merchant from House Adarbrent chimes in, he nods. Making a mental note to send over some elven bread and mist cheese.
"My thoughts exactly. Your guards, your responsibility. House Gundwynd has vouched for them and will be held accountable accordingly."
He leaves it at that, he would also arrange for any business dealing with them to be avoided or against their favor. Instead diverting it to House Adarbrent. Of course his father would have to approve, but he didn't see it as a problem. Alliances between houses shifted depending on business interest, only the source of that shift would be of interest. He hoped this one had a good standing as he just cost his house a good deal of business over a matter of two random guards and pride.
"Guards, one of you should stay alert. The other should help with the moving. I'll leave the assignments between the two of you. An extra round of dragon's breath beer for your troubles if you desire."
When the larger of the pair comes up to him. Rook eyes the man as he speaks.
"A foolish person does not have to be a bad person. He was making a precarious situation worse. He should have let you do the talking, seemed like he preferred spreading trouble for his own gain."
He waves a hand as if dismissing the whole thing.
"Anyways I would not mind hearing your tale after we move. No offense to your word or honor, but misfortune cares nothing for such things. A little extra work for some peace of mind and precaution is a small price to pay in comparison."
Once it is obvious the two men are currently no threat, Vorik walks over to Dorn, and speaks with him quietly.
"Let's not overly antagonize our cover, yes? I understand your misgivings, and they are sound, but it is not our call to make. However, since you are so concerned with these two, as leader of our group, I task you with watching over them, and making sure they cause no trouble."
Dorn looks Vorik in the eye. Few temple priest knew anything of business or all that came with it. From start to end it was business, their was no profit in pettiness.
"Did you think merchants on the road were all fat, jolly, and simple. No one here takes anything personally, it's business. He didn't like that I was taking the initiative and the others were letting me do it. He wanted to show me up for no reason then because he could. I won't be watching anything but my own property, the same as the others. They already made that clear without me bring it up. If those two so much as steal a ration. Gundwynd will be paying for it in gold and reputation. He will also be the first one after their heads for that very reason."
It seemed he would have to explain.
"He gambled for the sake of his pride and position, if their honorable and capable guards. He comes out looking like a cunning and perceptive merchant for taking those potential assets out from under me. Playing off my cautiousness as the approach of a youthful and inexperienced merchant to lower my standing. If they are not, then by the same token he looks the fool and must salvage the situation by taking care of the problem as quickly and efficiently as he can. If for no other reason then to prove he is not someone to cross."
He sighed at the whole thing. The banite was reading to much into it. These were businessmen from waterdeep, not from zhentil keep or the petty nobles of other lands. They worked amid sweat, heat, and the common people by all the gods. When they lost their temper or felt slighted, gold was lost not lives. Gundwynd had threatened just that moments ago, he was planning the same as well. And that was were it would end.
"Gundwynd did us a favor really. Taking on all the work while costing us nothing. In fact if they prove model guardsman, being considered the fool may be beneficial. Their is no real downside for us. Relax and focus on your cover job."
He slaps him on the shoulder. He had been presented with something unexpected from the whole affair. Maybe it could be turned towards an advantage.
Vorki backhands Dorn across the mouth. "Remember your place merchant. Those who tasked us with this venture placed me in charge. There are far more important and far more powerful things in this world than mere coinage. If you don't like that, feel free to leave."
As the leather gauntlet makes contact with Dorn face, Ja'far turns to see his "employer" physically berate Dorn. Ja'far was overwhelmed with a sense of satisfaction, he quickly brushed if off returning to his role.
Mawj and Kyorruel, sense a foreign thought creep into the back of their minds.
The Dark Lord lives through Vorik. He has risen!
Ja'far breaks his silence, he asks the new guard a series of questions.
"Tell me of yourself and your companions Kelemvor. Should we be working together, it's nice to know whom I will be fighting beside."
Mawj sees the backhand, and gives a half-mouthed smirk despite his best effort. He moves to stand near Dorn, but makes certain not to get between him and Vorik. "Master Dorn, did you require my help in completing inventory of our cargo? It would be a shame if anything went missing. Perhaps we could start with the boxes on the far side of the camp?..."
Suni goes over to his horse and huffs. He wanted to get away from these people... Staying human for so long was making him nervous and wary. He had hardly gotten any sleep, fearful he would wake up and no longer be human... In the middle of the camp with everyone watching. It was stressing him out... I need a drink... Or some women! he says, Rummaging through his pack. He sighs when he doesn't find anything useful... Then he eyes the box holding his exotic wines, sighing. I swear... This addiction will be the death of me... he quickly leaves his pack, not wanting to touch those bottles.
He makes his way around the caravan, before stopping by Dorn. Hello again, ah... Dorn? I forget, I am no good with names... I am concerned about these new men... What if they are Harper spies? he says, whispering to the apprentice.
The Year of the Prince 1357 DR -
Those in the camp near the incident are stunned as is Dorn, by the slap.
However, one figure is not, Rook.
Immediately, the massive Mastiff barks and moves into action tripping Vorik while trying to bite him.
The dog's sharp teeth hover over Vorik's face, it's clear, he's going to bite once more!
The caravan guards stand stunned for a moment.
Cringing at the suddenly violent turn of events, Pox stays by the fire. His job was to fix wagon wheels, not protect anyone.
He looks over to see how the newcomers, Kelemvor, Cyric, and Adon react.
He also spots Silver Suni by his horse and waves him over.
Dorn's mind moved to anger just as Rook landed on the foolish banite. But it just as quickly moved to better judgement then this one had just shown,
"Rook hold."
The dog stopped just short of ripping out the man's throat. But didn't move from his position ether. Something Dorn was in no hurry to rectify. He put up a hand to anyone attempting to get closer. They wouldn't get to Rook before he finished off the banite. He moves up beside the fallen man, whispering.
"I didn't think you were this much of a fool. Let me be perfectly clear, you need to know your place. I don't answer to you, I don't answer to your masters. I have my own masters and I serve them well. That's why I am myself while your position on this little trip is that of the hired help. This is the first and last time you will strike me. After all my position and master is far higher up then those couple of priest that order you about. Do not endanger our mission again, otherwise you will find your own masters displeasure personally. Your worth more dead then the trouble it would take protecting you."
He fished something out from his person, keeping it hidden in his palm. He exposed it just enough for Vorik to see. The token of the Zhentarim, he hide it once more quickly.
"Now I suggest you go about fixing the mess you've just made. Leave me to the job I do so well."
He moves away from the downed man and back to the steps of his wagon. To sit with his spread once more.
"Come Rook."
He kept one hand free for his scrolls and wand, in case this one was determined to be a fool. He was sure the priest would complain but ultimately not care if one of their own died by endangering the mission. They had made that clear enough in the meeting before. Rook bounds right back to Dorn, sitting next to him eyes still fixed on Vorik. While his ears moved about and alert should anyone approach his master.
The Year of the Prince 1357 DR -
As Dorn stands the caravan guards make their displeasure known.
Attack vs. Rook - Damage .
One attempts to swing the flat of his blade at Dorn but misses badly, fumbling over the caravan masters body. The other guards have weapons drawn and trained at Rook who is barking and slobbering at them. One takes a swing at the Mastiff and also misses. The rest either considerate piling on or are scared or just not sure what to do, after all the caravan master and one of the lead merchants just got into an altercation, they're supposed to be protecting both, aren't they?
Dorn and Rook back away as House Xizurth guards rush over to form a protective circle around Dorn.
The words "Fight! Fight!" erupt from nearby.
"S~*&. Cleric!" one of the guards screams at the sight of the bloodied caravan master. Many in the camp converge but some of you are already close by and ready to act.
Suni is flustered by the sudden turn of events and shambles to grab his crossbow, quickly drawing a bolt and placing it in the crook. Is there a threat! Under attack?!?
He then begins shouting in his native language,
Mawj folds his arms and takes several steps backward. Being a bodyguard was his cover, not his profession. He didn't have a horse in this race, so to speak, and endangering himself over a d*ck-waving contest was not on his agenda.
Ja'far literally flies towards Vorik with his sword drawn, floating over his downed "employer". He looks up to see his vulture companion above him.
Not now dear, this one isn't to eat.
Ja'far slides the tip of his blade against the ground, carving a line in the dirt. He stands at the ready to give a speech.
"Are we to tolerate such violence amongst us? There must be order, justice must be met. Either the blood starved beast be put to the sword or where I come from, its master be given lashes!"
In spite of his best efforts, his thick Midani accent makes it hard to understand his would-be edict. Regardless he continues his given role as Vorik's bodyguard.
|
The bastard sighs I should have guessed the problems would come from inside, instead of outside... as the situation unfolds.
He can't help but admire Dorn's pride as he controls his guardian beast and walks away, such dignity and forcefulness in victory should always be admired.
Ja'Far's entrance to the brawl forces a response in Vladislak. The rashemi turns his head to Suni, who is in the process of freaking out, and in a deep, grave voice that he is trying to practice says "Do you wish me to do anything, chief? Perhaps I should try to calm them with my words... or with my arm, if that were your wish."
The Year of the Prince 1357 DR -
Edwin and Kyo seem about to act but once the parties separate and the violence, if not the debate about what to do thereafter, are over neither acts or says anything further.
One of the lesser merchants, one not affiliated with any house, turns to Ja'far, "You've odd laws then. The pet protected its master for a strike that appeared to have no provocation".
The Adarbrent Merchant adds, "I'd prefer not to be so close to a dog that's tasted human blood but then I've no much to say to House Xizurth in any case.
I agree with Vonn here the act was not provoked thus no further punishment needs be meted out".
The cleric, Aldon, rushes over to Vorik's side and the soft glow of healing magic heals the caravan masters wounds. He grins, "You're one tough bastard Mr. Kessler but ah, I'd wager its not a good idea to slap around the coin jinglers hey?"
A bad choice jumped quickly to worse as things spiraled out of control. As a guard not worth the sword he carried took a swing at him, his own anger at the sheer stupidity of it all came back tenfold. His own house guard showed the professionalism expected, he should have brought more with him, while his "new hires" proved their own inadequacy in both their covers and ability as guards. Then came yet another fool attempting to create even more problems for their mission and themselves. So be it, he was getting into a bloody mood. While he did not shout, his voice cut clearly to be heard. Everyone near by was paying attention after all.
"Indeed, order and justice by the law of this land. Tell me foreigner what is the punishment for assaulting an unarmed merchant noble without cause? Or betrayal of your employer and charge? Fear not I don't expect you to know our laws. Those of us here who hired that man and by extension these guards that were so quick to attack me without reason, know the law quite well."
His voice dripped with both sarcasm and deadly promise. He gave the two that attempted to attack him and Rook a pointed look.
"As you were to busy paying attention to the stars or whatever kept you from your proper duty. You would have seen as many here did, that this man struck me without cause. My loyal companion here did his duty and protected me from further assault. As my own men are doing now. Rook could have easily ended his life before any of you could have done a thing. By my command he would have done the deed. But by civility, law, and justice. I restrained myself and my companion once the threat to my safety had passed. Perhaps you should learn to keep your mouth shut and your eyes open before you speak on matters that you know nothing about."
He looks at the same two guards with their swords out again.
"Unless you plan to use those, put them away already. My men don't attack unarmed people. Especially those they are hired to protect."
Rook's eyes and teeth were now pointed directly at the two men that were the latest to threaten his master. Considering he was one of the merchants that put gold in their pocket, while supplying them with better drink then they were used to no less. He had expected a certain amount of restraint if not loyalty. Well those two would go home with lighter pockets and do without his generosity from now on. Foolish ingrates that they were.
Turning towards the other merchants as they speak, his tone becomes more neutral and he waves away any concerns about Rook. Sensible reason finds a home, Azuth be praised.
"Any guard dog worth it's name has drawn blood at some point. This is not the first time Rook has defended me, I am not naive enough to think it will be the last. I would think his obedience makes it clear enough he is no more drawn to blood then most civil men. I dare say he finds it rather distasteful, he has been known to turn up his nose at poorly prepared fare."
He goes on.
"Now we have an early start so I suggest everyone not waste anymore of their time on this. Anyone besides a merchant or Kelemvor, with which I have business with, will have to make an appointment through one of my guards from now on."
He whispered to his personal guards to keep close to the wagon from now on and not stray. It would make things more difficult for some of the group but well that was not his problem at this point. He would do his job properly as always, they should have thought the same from the start. Amateurs with something to prove, wasn't the promise of a slow death enough. Certainly nether the priest or the zhentarim made idle threats they could not carry out. Again it would not be his problem, no mistakes of his would find their way back home. He was determined of that.
Ja'far laughs at Dorn's posturing, he stows away his sword as a measure of good faith.
"A northern barbarian wishes to know my laws, very well. Out in the Plains of purple and the Great desert there are no laws, only survival. You'd be the first to left behind as a distraction for the purple worms or mongrelmen tribes. You're a weak fool that hides behind others, if thrown in to wild what would your precious gold or family name get you cur?"
He spits towards Dorn direction, uttering to him a curse in Durpari.
Ja'far cared not for the merchant, he never aid. Weak men that grow fat in their own self-entitled grandeur.
Ja'far returns to the ground, lifting Vorik off the ground and to his feet.
He nods to Adon for healing his employer. "I've failed you as a guard, yet not as a guide sir. I accept what punishment you best see fit for me."
Dorn only smiles at the other merchants knowingly. As the foreigner puts a noose around his own neck. He really did make things to easy, he could keep playing with this one all night.
"Hear that gentlemen, everyone here but him is a barbarian and he has no need of our gold. Seems throwing people to monsters to save yourself and not following laws of any kind makes you civilized. Excuse me but I'll take being a Waterdhavian barbarian over a cultured southerner everytime."
Merchants cared about personal physical prowess about as much as dirt. They could buy that and they did, why else would guards be here in the first place. More to the point they came out of Waterdeep, that was the worst crowd to pull that nonsense with. The city and it's people were built on open trade and tolerance, that imperialistic attitude would be ignored at best. Most likely he just insulted everyone here, including his fellow guards and the healer. That he did not even consider that would be noted. By extension his little outburst was reflecting badly on Vorik as his superior and employer, the man had his own hole to dig himself out of. Now it had grown deeper, due to the ramblings of another. While he would not forget the pair's lack of defense of him, at least those he was responsible for could keep their silence. He supposed that should be noted just as well in their favor.
Ja'far looks over to Dorn in confusion."So quick to come to conclusions, I addressed you not the others. It sounds as if you speak for the other merchants, as if are they your slaves or poppets, voiceless pawns to you?" Either that or you're touched in the head. It's no wonder your family sent you out here, hoping for you to get lost on the journey."
Returning to his post, Ja'far brushes the dirt off of Vorik, he whistles for Tanisha to return, perched on his shoulder.
He whispers to Vorik"I weep for his familie's linage if he's their heir.
Sadly your smack didn't knock him off his high horse."
Vorik accepts Ja'Far's hand up, and stands with a nod of thanks to the healer. "You are fine Ja'Far. Guards, muzzle the dog, and clasp Dorn in irons. He is a risk to our mission. I will not have somebody who can not follow simple, practical orders running free." It's clear from the way the emphasis he places on the last words that is referring to their mission from the Black Temple, and his asserting his authority as the group's leader.
Kyorruel frowns a little as he watches the group seemingly begin to fall apart.
This is what happens when you band together a bunch of low creatures, how can you expect them to act civilized.
When Vorik orders Dorn placed in irons, Kyorruel is of two minds. On the one hand he would like to see the haughty human humbled but this fighting is not good for the mission and their superiors might choose to punish all of them and not just those who fought if they failed in their mission.
He decided to avoid breaking his cover while still trying to break the tension and resolve this foolish conflict.
He approached Vorik slowly and non-threatening.
"Sir please, call off this madness. Whether anyone likes it or not you did attack him, whatever your intentions it was ill done. Let us end this madness now before it escalates and someone dies over a slap and a lowly mutt.", He looks Vorik in the eye meaningfully and lowers his voice."We all have our part to play. Let us continue as we must."
His piece said, Kyorruel returns to arms to their position crossed over his chest, in easy reach of weapons, in case he need them but determined to maintain his cover as a merchant.
The Year of the Prince 1357 DR -
The guards appear a bit confused at Vorik's declaration of a mission and look to one another to see who has manacles.
The Merchants among the caravan stop and turn back to the yelling hot blooded younglings.
House Gundwynd's Merchant approaches Vorik, "Caravan Master, while I understand that you are upset at what took place, you struck him. If anything, you should be placed in chains. Forget not that you, these guards, that servant man over there" he points at Pox "work for us. The dog should be watched and I am all for muzzling it if it attacks another of our caravan but chaining House Xizurth's brat is simply not going to happen".
House Adarbrent's Merchant likewise approaches Dorn, "You claim that the caravan master struck you without cause? Perhaps you are right. What I've seen is an arrogance from you that you'd best tamper down. In your manse talk as you like, on the road, such high handedness leads to knives in the night no matter the gold you throw around.
Threatening that you could have killed the damn caravan master with your mutt is a bit much. You and the southern barbarian are making a scene that none want. Remember Dorn, it's your House that hired the damned caravan master no one ever heard of. He did a good job too, now leave all of this off as a few poor decision and more poor words as we've a camp to move".
He bows to Adarbrent and Gundwynd in turn. He knew when to cut his losses and walk away. As well as the ring of truth when he heard it.
"As you say, we have a long road ahead."
His anger had crept in, he knew better. It seemed the most insidious enemy was indeed yourself as he once read. He would not make the shallow claim that it was simply youth, it was deeper. He would have to reflect and find that weakness, to purge what he could ill afford.
Ja'far scoffs when he's called a barbarian, such an insult wouldn't go unnoticed, although at this point there was nothing he could do about it, biting his tongue was what needed to be done.
"Very well humble merchants, you've made your points."
Vorik replies to the first merchant to speak. "Incorrect. He struck me first, and while perhaps my backhand was an overreaction, I was caught off guard by a merchant striking me, with no provocation."
"He... patted him on the shoulder, did he not? Pox whispers to his rat, utterly perplexed. The rest of his thoughts are silent. He must be from a strange culture, to have taken offense at that. Good gods, is this all stemming from a misunderstanding? I suppose this is what happens when you serve the temple of the god of strife.
Since Silver Suni did not see him wave to him (or ignored him), Pox gets up and goes over to Suni and Vladislak and says quietly, if they acknowledge him: "We should be sure the camp is secure, with all this fuss going on."
The Year of the Prince 1357 DR -
The Merchant of House Gundwynd narrows his eyes at Vorik, "You are quite the volatile fellow Mr. Kessler. No matter, what one man sees as a friendly gesture another sees as provocation. We all have our personal foibles. I am of the impression that you have done your job quite well and will continue to do so.
From now on, I shall be the go between for you and the brat. There are enough dangers on the road without infighting within a caravan.
In the original contract as I understand it, House Xizurth is seeking to head to the Shining South. I am contracted as far as Arabel. If you wish to break ties with that House, I can pay you good coin to head back to Waterdeep. Think on it if you sand your original contracting merchant are not seeing eye to eyes.
Can I now assume that all is well enough and we can move this camp elsewhere?"
Mawj unslings his greataxe and rests it on his shoulder. He flexes his fingers and walks up beside Vorik. "Vorik, you're in charge. You give the orders. I can't stand Dorn's verbal diarrhea, but I doubt he's worth interrupting our business." His tone sounds bored, but his eyes are constantly scanning.
"As much as I would not mind you splitting him open, he supposedly has a purpose. For now, keep him away from me."
With that, he walks away from the gathering, with any who follow him welcome at his side.
Once Suni is completely aware of the situation he sighs. In my land, Striking a noble bears a death sentence... But in my homeland there is a cast system, and only we nomad merchants have any say heavy enough to give a noble consideration, if any note at all. he says, unloading his crossbow. If a merchant where to be struck, it was his choice of punishment, only barring execution.
The Year of the Prince 1357 DR -
The cam is moved a few miles down road and the weary caravan finally settles down. The tension having ebbed the newcomers approach different caravan members.
Rook growls at Kelemvor and his hackles rise.
For the rest of the "Tyrants" the night is calm and the crackling of fires and whispers in the camp are all you hear. The guards on the night shift walk in patrols though on higher alert than normal.
Silver keeps to his tent, sleeping, Although he wakes several times in the night, wary. He puts himself back to sleep with light doses of nightshade and has a fitful sleep...
In the morning he is hungover, despite not having a drank anything the night before
He goes to his mirror and makes sure he's still human. He gathers his stuff and climes out of the tent, squinting in the sunlight. Ugh... I need a drink... he moans... Looking for his wineskin
Pox awakens in the morning and grabs some bread for himself and Longtooth for breakfast. Although he's open for conversation with anyone should they approach him, he fears tensions still run high and isn't keen to provoke anyone into a discussion they don't want to have.
Otherwise he sticks to his caravan duties: checking the carts and ensuring they are fit for travel so the caravan can safely depart. He takes his time to ensure every screw is tightened, every axle secure.
"Aye, and thanks. Guess I was just a bit too caught up in the moment, and forgot about the damn mutt."
He eyes the newcomer closely. "Sure, I'm always interested in learning new things."
He snaps his fingers softly at the dog along with a sharp call. Rook calms and remains silent but watches the man carefully. He speaks softly as well but firmly to his guards.
"I already said he could pass earlier. Easy gentlemen, this one is smarter then the last. A lot stronger I'd venture a guess, a bit nobler too if I'm not mistaken. Not that it hasn't been known to happen mind you, a bit recently too."
He chuckles darkly as he waves the man forward. He reserved his foul mood for those that deserved it, along with his cold schemes. He mind was already going to work on the possibilities. The best, the worst, the most satisfying, and the most efficient.
Mawj spends the evening in quiet contemplation -- sharpening his new magical dagger and staring into the fire.
When will we find Harpers again? They already know the priests were planning an advance. This dagger's previous owner knew that. Attack during the night? Maybe. They are probably more interested in finding out what we're up to now.
He looks at Vorik, then Dorn.
If an attack comes, they may reckon the score. Not a stab in the back, too many people. But letting someone get killed by enemies? Probably their style...