Let us see why the strands of fate have brought you all together.
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Normally I'd dot and delete, but here I am!
Dot
Just out of curiosity:
Herreck the Vile | Branding Opportunity | Human Fighter
Malthus | GM Red | Human Bard
Gilhaut DeFoere | Helaman | Human War Priest
Muziel Moreau | Tazo | Forest Gnome Rogue
Nesserin "Blackblade" | Cadenza | Tiefling Paladin
Looks quite balanced.
Just out of curiosity:
Herreck the Vile | Branding Opportunity | Human Fighter
Malthus | GM Red | Human Bard
Gilhaut DeFoere | Helaman | Human War Priest
Muziel Moreau | Tazo | Forest Gnome Rogue
Nesserin "Blackblade" | Cadenza | Tiefling PaladinLooks quite balanced.
I'd love to see a wizard on the roster...
Dotting
Just an update:
I'll be posting in the game play thread tomorrow morning to start us off.
Looking forward to this campaign. Thank you all for joining me.
The sun slowly rises announcing a new day to the lot of you that have spent the last three nights in this common room. The smell of a hearty rabbit stew fills the air thankfully pushing out the stink of sweat and sour ale.
With a good stretch you start taking inventory of your belongings noting that your coin pouch barely has enough left in it to purchase more than a couple of nights of comfort within these tavern walls. From the mumbling going on with those around you can see you are not the only one in this predicament.
Emerging from the kitchen you watch as the proprietor of the tavern, a larger than normal half-orc by the name of Kor, hastily carries out a large cask of his homebrewed ale, Bog Water. A deserving name if there ever was for the way it tastes after the first tankard.
"GET UP!" erupts a loud shout from the orc, "Five silver nobles for a warm spot place in the common room! Mother Netweaver says she tastes rain in the air! Three nobles for bread, a slice of smoked boar and a couple pheasant eggs! Rabbit stew will be ready for Non ! Four nobles for a bowl of that and some bread! Bring me your coin now or get out...adventurers." With that last word he laughs, puts the cask down on the floor and moves to the end of the bar awaiting payment from each of you.
Looking from your purse to the extended hand of the half orc you are about to weigh your options when you hear a voice shout from outside "Go find 'em Myrtle!"
You then watch as the half orc turns a toothy sneer to the door and in scampers an odd looking chicken with white pristine feathers, gray mottled feet and a blue azure comb followed by a balding middle age man dressed in old tanned leathers. Tapping his top lip with his finger he looks at the chicken scampering about.
Cluck! Cluck! Cluck!
"What's de meaning of dis, Cole? Keep de pet out of here. You read de sign?" with that Kor points at the weird sign that hangs behind the bar - a crude drawing of an ax chopping a bird with the words GET OUT written below.
Cluck! Cluck! Cluck! responds the chicken as if understanding the half orc's words.
"Touch 'er and they'll run ya out jus like they did in Ren'by ya half tooth! Myrtle and me got business with your guests. Once we're done we'll excuse ourselves but not 'fore then."
Kor glares at the old man when he hears the half tooth reference, but gives one last snarl in protest and then reluctantly motions with his head for the chicken and the man to continue. You watch as the chicken hops up on a table pecks at the wood surface a few times then looks up scanning the room like the lord of the manor looking at his subjects. A couple more pecks at the table it then unexpectedly jumps off momentarily hovering in the air before landing on the ground a couple seconds later.
The room grows quiet confused about what exactly is going on. As a few of you peer closer to see what the chicken is doing it suddenly begins to run about the tavern hysterically around the legs of everyone gathered.
Cluck! Cluck! Cluck! Cluck!
"Cole..." the irritation in the half orc's voice is seething.
"Hold on Kor! Jus watch the magic happen! "
The chicken begins its circuit again, but this time you watch as the chicken pauses several times to jump up and peck at some random person – a meek, unkempt musician holding a lute, a loud and confident man clearly of higher social status, an over inquisitive gnome, a grizzled old soldier and a hooded quiet man – each scattered about the tavern. With every instance the chicken does this you watch from the corner of your eye as the old man claps in excitement. After the fifth time of the chicken pecking someone it stops and keels over.
"Right then! You five let's talk. You’re going to end my curse!" on queue as the old man turns and heads outside the chicken hops back up as if nothing happened and with an air of importance walks past all of you after the old man.
”Once you finish talking to that old man get back here and secure your spot or someone else will! Don’t think I forgot about the rest of you. Let’s go!”
You can hear the man outside waiting impatiently as his chicken clucks away. "Where are they?"
Thats a new one! By the Gods that's one clever chicken!, Gilhaut thought.
The warrior priest looked down at his all but empty coin purse and sighed.
Maybe it's a sign and my God Archeillus is looking out for me!
He brightened at the idea and moved out to the rendezvous.
I say old fellow!, he boomed with a loud enthusiastic greeting. What's with the magic chicken? And how does it know about curses?
Cole glares at Gilhaut with one eye larger than the other. "The girl has a name. It be Myrtle and you be thankful she chose you with 'er blessing. Been a long time comin this day. Finally going to get rid of this curse. Once and f'r all! Knew you could do it Myrtle! They doubted us but we show'd 'em." Gilhaut watches as Cole gets lost in his conversation with Myrtle then turns back to Gilhaut. "Oh wait you had a question? What was it ye said? Hmmm magic cup? No no. Magic checker? Hmm what's a magic checker?"
Herrick's old leg injury had been bothering him all night and he'd barely slept a wink and woken in a foul mood. When the man with the chicken appeared, that nearly pushed him over the edge. He had swiped at the chicken after it had pecked him, and would have gotten up to chase it around the room if his leg didn't hurt so much.
After hearing the man's speech, he grumbled to himself and hoisted himself up, using his weapon as a cane and stumbled after him out into the yard.
"Eh, magic chicken man," Herrick barks as he exits the tavern, dragging his pack and armor behind him. "You got gold for this job? Show it, or I'm going back in, because I'm missing breakfast in there."
"All business. Nothin' wrong wit' that. I got some coin to share with ye." he puts his hand into his coat and then pulls out a drawn pouch. Opening it he lets you watch several gold monarchs fall into his hand. "Got more. But ye got a job to do first. Ain't that right Myrtle?"
Cluck! the old man laughs gleefully as the chicken responds on demand.
Malthus strokes his unkempt lower beard inquisitively. He pulls it away, a residue shining from his fingertips. "The fowl doth protest too much!" He abruptly says, pointing at the chicken. "Yet I find myself curious all the same. Tell me, my good sir, what is this curse of which you speak? The chicken is not actually a chicken, I surmise. Yet, a curse comes in but many flavors, and speaking of flavors, it is nearly time for breakfast three, if I may implore you to part with your tastiest of foodstuffs." Malthus rubs his plum-shaped belly. It hangs over the top of his pants generously, and stains of grease highlighted with bread crumbs dot his shirt. "In return, I shall devote my assistance to you, my good sir."
Capital idea! Indeed! Happy to discuss your case and your chicken over breakfast, yes indeed!
Gilhaut gestures at the coins in the mans hand.
The least a chap can do is feed us while we listen.
Herrick nods at Gilhaut's comment as he begins to slip into his battered chainmail. "This man has the right idea. No chow, no interest, Chicken Man."
Nesserin scans the assembled crowd, clearly an optimistic bunch but perhaps that's what desperation does to a man. He makes sure to stay withdrawn in his voluminous cloak lest his heritage cause unnecessary...complications.
He skeptically listens to the story lingering in the back of the crowd. Was this Myrtle just another misunderstood soul truly seeking help or was this some lark played on the desperate. As the others look to fill their bellies and pockets he feels compelled to ask "Why us?"
Muziel was quite content to be reading his book on Arcana when the chicken suddenly appears and calls him out. He had to admit the sight of the chicken was a lot more interesting than the dry pages of the book. Quite the mystery he had to deal with here. He studies the strange chicken as it as it clucks about the room.
As the chicken's owner insists he follow, rather than go outside immediately, Muziel decides he's going to try and chat with Kor. "So, what's the deal with these chickens? Pretty sure you got these no chicken signs up for a reason, right? Should I just go out there and slice the beast?" It was so much easier to study creatures on the autopsy table, after all.
The chicken is not actually a chicken, I surmise."
"Myrtle this boy thinks ye must be a dog. Bark for him."
Cluck. the old man laughs heartedly
"Ye picked 'em. Ye sure pecked the right one?
Cluck.
"Alright then why he thinkin ye not a chicken?"
Cluck. Cluck. Cluck.
"Boy I don't know what cellar ye was raised in but this 'ere is a chicken."
Cluck.
"As to feeding you all. Kor aint be likin me in there with Myrtle, but the halftooth does serves good food. Alright I'll feed ye while we talk about fixing my curse."
Find a table and six seats. Someone grab that gnome. Myrtle said five and I'm not about to against her."
Picking up Myrtle you watch as Cole proceeds back into the River Ale. "We ain't back fer trouble these ones are hungry an I mean to feed em before fixin' my curse! Give me six of whatever your serving right now." Kor grunts and yells into the kitchen
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Herrick takes a seat at a table (that can accommodate the entire group and shouts "And some beers as well, inkeep" after the inkeep. He pushes his longsword aside so that he can draw it quickly if needed in the crowded setting.
"You may have guessed this already, Mr. Myrtle, but I ain't no wizard or priests blessed by the gods, so I don't know how useful I can be about lifting curses. If you need someone killed I can do that. Well, I can try at least. My base rate and requirements is quite reasonable, but I don't do children and I get every 6th day off."
Kor grows quiet about Renderby and the chickens as he starts gathering the coins he was given into a small sack at his side "You are all set on making the journey on foot to the Ferry? Flirting with Princess Hope doesn't bother any of you? You know what we call the Forest of Hope? The Forest of Horrors. Once you head in there you are bound to find a bunch of trouble. Place is full of spiders, trolls too they say. I even heard a few seasons back that there dragons in there. You think I am lying but I've seen my share of knights entering only to have their corpse dragged back their scared horses. Better you wait for a ferry."
"Been three days another one is bound to come within the week. It's them merchants that are buying up all the space on the ferry though or you'd been at the Ferry by now."
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Well, not like I have anything better to do.
Thanks for the heads up, Kor. Oh, and look, the chicken man came back in. If you'll excuse me . . ."
Putting his book away in his bag, the gnome joins the rest of the folk that are now back inside. "Right, the name's Muziel. I don't usually take orders from chickens. So you better have a good story or a lot of coin." He looks around at the other assembled folk, a bedraggled musician, an uppity nobleman, a mercenary beyond his prime, and some fellow who didn't know how to take off his hood indoors. Seemed like they had just two brain cells between the four of them. "Even more coin if you need me to work with this sorry lot."
Cole looks on at Herrick as the seemingly capable man talks about his strengths and weaknesses. "Myrtle knew that. That's why she picked you. Every one of you got a purpose and Myrtle knows that. That answer your question about why you?" he turns and looks straight at Nesserin.
"Probably doesn't cause then you would have to trust a chicken, but Myrtle knows what she is doing." Cole holds up a hand asking for you all to hold your questions.
"I got a tale and it started bout 7 years ago just af'er the last big flood to hit these parts. Was a woodsman by trade. Born in these highlands so I knew them well enough to be a guide for people like yourselves. Made a good amount with this honest living. Seen a lot. Wish there was some I could forget."
"Well my brother and me got hired by some others 'bout 7 years ago to lead them around these parts they was hunting some goblins. Was a small bounty but these parts had a lot of them at that time and they was causing chaos all over. Well the group decided to go in deeper than me or my brother had ever been before and we stumbled upon a tall ring of stones that I ain't never seen before.
”One of the people who hired us said it dated back to even as far as when the Dungeon of Graves was first discovered in the Forest of Hope. I didn’t ask how he knew he was one of them learned types. Well we looked around and found a trail that lead to a cave.” you watch as Cole seems to get lost in his memory.
”That cave. That blasted cave.” shaking his head he continues, ”In the cave we found a hole. I didn’t feel right about any of it. But wasn’t my place to say anything. I’d have stayed up top too but Garrett, my brother he wanted to go down. He had that gleam in his eye he wanted to be like these people who hired us, I could see it, he wanted to be famous and travel the world. So I kept quiet and followed them down. Was the last time I saw him ever again.”
”I don’t know what was down there but as soon as we moved from the rope it attacked. I ran! I wasn’t no hero! I looked for Garrett grabbed him and we ran for the rope! The people that had hired us they must have put up some resistance cause Garrett and I made it back to the rope. I started climbing and Garrett was right behind me and then he wasn’t! I heard him scream and watched fall back into the darkness. He cried out for me again and again! All I could do was keep climbing and then I felt a tug on the rope and thought it was my brother but the sound it made as it climbed was feral so I cut the rope. I cut it! I cut it and ran!”
”Since that day I got the curse. Since that day I abandoned my brother and let him die down there.”
While Cole talks you watch in the background as several others who had been staying in the common room assemble around the door. You hear a few of them say something about traveling through the Forest of Hope to get to Zelkor's Ferry.
Nesserin nods as the man explains his woeful story "You expect us to travel to this cave and uncover the source of the curse then?"
He adds "Should we come to terms will you lead us yourself?" It would be best if we knew exactly what route you took.
Cluck! the chicken seemingly answers Nesserin's question and then starts pecking at the table.
Nodding at Nesserin Cole adds, "Travel to the cave and recover the remains of my brother. Ye see we had a pact never to abandon another. I need him back so I can bury his body and rid me of this curse."
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Muziel is pretty sure he's not getting the full story here. Was this bloke an idiot or trying to play them?
"So you want to hire us to go in a hole where everyone who went inside died except you, and find a body that is seven years old by now. All to lift some curse you haven't told us about. Is that right?" Muziel stares at the man skeptically to make very clear that he doesn't see how this could possibly be worthwhile to him.
The priest loses himself in the pleasure of eating, not even responding when that half pint afternooner who, frankly, looked like quite the Dennis, referred to him as being part of a sorry lot.
Taking the grudgingly offered ale from the innkeeper Gilhaut slaps the table.
Well, seems pretty good to me. I mean, it was poor form at the time, what with leaving his brother and all, but setting things right? Well Archeillus smiles on this sort of thing, and so do I.
He reaches out to pat the old man condescendingly.
It seems like a great lark... Adventure! A fight or two! Possibly capture and torture! Escape! Then back for tea and tarts! Fear not, we'll be back with your brothers bones in no time and with quite the tale to tell I'll be bound!, Gilhaut says with jolly enthusiasm.
Cole looks at Muziel and nods his head. "What was down there it was guarding something. Probably valuable to people like yourselves. The cave that had the entrance it had some sort of paintings on the wall none that I took time to examine but interested those folk that hired my brother and me."
When Gilhaut joins in Cole's spirit seems to lift and reassuringly squeezes Gilhaut's hand when Gilhaut pats him on the shoulder. "So you'll help end this curse? Whatever you find is yours I only ask for my brother's remains so I can give him the proper rites."
Herrick has seen some strange requests in his time as a mercenary, so this doesn't seem all that out of the ordinary; although the chicken does give him some pause.
He mostly ignores Gilhaut's Panglossian wishful thinking, but sees some logic in the gnome's suspicious nature.
"The gnome has a good point. Whatever was down there most likely ate your brother. If this all happened seven years ago, the chance of us finding even bones is not very likely. Once the rats and other vermin get a hold of what was left of him, they could have spread his remains over a very large area. We might be picking up bone fragments for weeks. How much of your brother do you need to break the curse-dealy? A half, or would a quarter do?"
It's quite clear that either Herrick doesn't care that talking about the man's brother's death might upset him, or he simply does not have the emotional awareness to realize that his words have any effect on anyone.
"And then there's the question of the payment. How much are you offering for this retrieval job? Sounds like there's a dangerous beast involved, so the hazard pay better be commensurate."
Well, we know who the first to die will be, thinks Muziel as the well-heeled nobleman carries on about "adventure." He wasn't sure why a man with money would ever want to do this sort of work.
The other fellow, though . . . he may be old but still looks strong. Not to mention he's smart enough to know I had a good point.
"Okay, I like this one--" says Muziel, pointing to Herrick. "He's asking the right questions. But he left one out. What's this curse you're talking about? It doesn't have to do with that chicken, does it?"
"Ye picked right Myrtle! Ye picked right!" Cole's jubilance stops when Herrick asks his first question. "Errr...umm...well how will ye know him from the others? Wait Garrett he had a dagger that he had made special. Nev'r let it out of his sight. Bring back that dagger if you can't find his remains, but I think as much of him as possible would be good. The day he died he was wearing his hides like I have. He'd be about my height. The others with us weren't dressed nothing like us. What d' ye reason, Myrtle?"
Cluck. Cluck.
"I agree but the man makes a point. What's left of Garrett...could scattered about."
Cluck. Cluck.
Turning his attention back to Herrick."Yeah. Myrtle and me agree the body would be better but the dagger will work as well. Dagger had some fancy picture on one side of the blade was a scene of the sun rising on the horizon. Garrett put some meaning into that.”
”As to what can I give ye? The curse has left me with little since that day. If Myrtle hadn’t rescued me I’d likely have found myself at the bottom of the river. I can offer these four gems here. They’d need be prettied up but they be worth enough of this hazard pay ye talkin about. Should be able to get a good amount of golden monarchs in a big city. I can also get ye a ride on the next ferry that passes by ‘ere when ye return. The men who sail up and down these rivers owe me a favour. That is unless ye want to walk like them over there.” Cole points to the door where a group has been gathering. ”Don’t envy them or suggest it. Woods are full of things that would be better not seen.”
”My curse Mr. Gnome? Ye mean other than each night my brother comes to me and strangles me until I wake up in a cold sweat? Or that I’ve been marked by the others in both Ren’by and here as full of sin so I can’t get no work? My curse Mr. Gnome is one of blasted bad luck that follows me. Only cause of Myrtle haven’t it shown it’s face yet.”
So just the bones... and if we can't get them, a dagger that sounds like it's a bit fancy? If we bring back all the bones do we keep the dagger?, Gilhaut tries to clarify, looking like he needs multiple facts to understand the full picture.
He continues trying to be helpful in turn.
I mean I have the rites to lay them all to rest in a mass grave. Archeillus will take in your brothers soul in a snap and why? Why then Rupert is as good as your uncle! It's a very impressive rite too... done in Gasquen and everything... the whole mass grave blessing is from early days where you couldn't tell one body from another after some of those bigger battles and the battlefield ghouls had got at the bodies... you know, pulling teeth, stealing boots, cutting off ring fingers and such other ghastly business - you couldn't tell peasant or serf from their masters sometimes to boot! Not to worry, this will have him at peace the moment I finish!
Malthus looks up from playing with - not playing - his lute at the mention of gems. "Sire, I will glady accept such a gem, as it would make the perfect gift for a fair maiden. Then she shall have no choice but to lower her guard to my advances. That is how love works. I have spent years reading about, I should know." He rubs his belly. He smells as if he hasn't bathed in weeks. He probably hasn't. He can't remember.
"The task seems clear, yet dangerous all the same. I shall accompany you, Sir -- what was your name?" He looks Gilhaut up and down. "And you, you, and you." He looks at the others. "I am Malthus. We must be the chosen few, tasked with retrieval of bones. With a song for our travels, perhaps. What would be better than hauling bones around while I play us a chirpy melody?"
Oh! What terrible manners... I am SO sorry!, Gilhaut says mortified.
Gilhaut DeFoere, Priest of Archeillus. I am on something of a wandering pilgrimage, or so I am told by Bishop Robriene. After I told Mama about it, I was summoned to see Uncle Bertie. He seemed pretty happy with the news and even said that I'd be more useful out here then at home in Axie or with the troops and that I'd be doing him quite the favour for being out here with you adventurer types!
Nesserin does his best to hide his disgust when Malthus makes his comment about love.
After carefully listening to the Cole's words "I sympathize with your cause Cole. To be haunted by ones past is a terrible thing indeed."
"If the forest really is as dangerous as you say I think we should make ourselves available to those pilgrims. They might be in need of a sword arm or two and there is strength in numbers."
I'm sure everyone was happy to see you go, Gilhaut. Muziel looks at the chicken and shakes his head. Shrugging, he starts gesturing at the chicken, pointing to Gilhaut and then holding out his hands questioningly. It seems he is trying to communicate with the chicken directly.
<<Why would you pick that guy to go break the curse?>>
When he's done chatting with the chicken, he tries the man again. "So this has been going on for the last seven years, right? How many other adventurers have you recruited to recover the body of your brother? Maybe I should listen to Hoodie here and go guard some "pilgrims."
For Muziel, this was both a further probe for information and a tweak to negotiate a higher payment.
When he's done chatting with the chicken, he tries the man again. "So this has been going on for the last seven years, right? How many other adventurers have you recruited to recover the body of your brother? Maybe I should listen to Hoodie here and go guard some "pilgrims."
Herrick's eyes light up at Muziel's comment.
"Hey, yah, that's right! How many people have you sent down the well to die in the last seven years? How many more bones will be find down there? You could be working together with the creature at the bottom of the well to supply him with a steady diet of imbeciles willing to believe your chicken at a few shiny stones. How do we know these are even real gems? They might be pretty colored glass. I'm going to find out more about you and your doings, I am."
Herrick gets up and walks over to the half-orc innkeeper to see what else he can find out about the chicken man's history.
I say! There's no need to go doubting a chap! He seems perfectly above board and regimental... I mean he's even got a magic chicken! What more do you need?
Herrick seems to be having no luck getting the bartender's attention who is busy slinging beers and serving breakfast on this depressing morning. Upon hearing DeFoere's misguided and clearly suicidal ramblings, he makes a sharp turn and strides back to the table, coming up sharp before the priest.
"Now listen here, Padre," Herrick intones forcefully, stabbing his forefinger into the man's chest, "you can go off and follow any fool crusade you wish, but the rest of us have to eat and survive, and we won't survive very long with someone like you bleating in our ears and telling us the sky isn't grey when it's clearly grey. Trust is earned, it is not given."
He keeps barking at Gilhaut, but now points at the Chicken Man. "We don't know who this man is. We don't know what his motives are. Sure, he may be telling the truth, but in my line of work you quickly discover that most folk are only out to pull the wool over your eyes faster than a starving dog swallows his own turd. I say again, trust must be earned! It's people like you that get people killed, blabbering on about wishing and feeling and hoping, and it's people like me who end up dead because of it."
So close to the soldier's face, Glhaut can smell that Herrick's breath reeks of onions and regret ... but mostly onions. He must eat a lot of them. I mean, he already smells like onions and he hasn't even eaten anything this morning. Does that mean he was eating onions overnight, or maybe even in his sleep? Best not wonder.
<What? Others talk too? Thought you all were worm brains. This worm brain only worm brain that listens. I picked other worm brain because I like his feet. No fish stink! So you help?>
Cluck.Cluck!CLUCK!CLUCK!
You all watch as Myrtle jumps from Cole's hands and begins to prance about the table top pecking and lifting a wing in Muziel's direction.
"Hey calm down Myrtle. What'd say to 'er? Ye got 'er riled up as if that half tooth was coming for 'er with his ax."
"As for who else? Ain't nev'r had the chance. Only had Myrtle for about four midsummers and this is the first she chose anyone. She always told me next time. Those ain't pilgrims they dress'd like ye. Go ask that half tooth if ye don't believe me. I ain't have much come to the shack and see for yeselves."
"If my offer ain't enough then keep the dagger provided ye find some remains of Garrett. Myrtle told me to trust yer lot and I ain't going to start doubting her. Enjoy the food and drink. If ye change yer mind head down the east road mine is the last shack." Cole gets up his face full of dejection, gathers the chicken gently into his arms and heads out the door after paying Kor.
As Herrick starts to ask questions of Kor the half orc looks at Cole as he leaves the tavern. Then looking at Herrick he eyes the old veteran up and down with condescending eyes "I don't like the chicken, but Cole has done nothing wrong although bad stuff does happen around him. He was never right since I came to Holscomb and the fates aren't friendly with him. Something usually goes wrong when he is around especially when that chicken isn't with him. I don't care if the chicken is magical or not but those are the facts." Kor returns to taking care of a few stragglers left in the tavern.
Muziel has to suppress a smile as he manages to talk to the chicken. One of the smartest creatures around him at the moment. He gestures back at the chicken. <Fine, I'll help.>
He looks around at the others. "Alright, listen up, I'll go, but only if you do. Gonna try listenin' to a chicken for once and see how it turns out. But if we find some magic dagger or somethin' down there, it's mine. That includes Garrett's dagger, if it's special. You folks can keep the oversized weapons or whatever. Deal?"
"Now listen here, Padre," Herrick intones forcefully, stabbing his forefinger into the man's chest, "you can go off and follow any fool crusade you wish, but the rest of us have to eat and survive, and we won't survive very long with someone like you bleating in our ears and telling us the sky isn't grey when it's clearly grey. Trust is earned, it is not given."He keeps barking at Gilhaut, but now points at the Chicken Man. "We don't know who this man is. We don't know what his motives are. Sure, he may be telling the truth, but in my line of work you quickly discover that most folk are only out to pull the wool over your eyes faster than a starving dog swallows his own turd. I say again, trust must be earned! It's people like you that get people killed, blabbering on about wishing and feeling and hoping, and it's people like me who end up dead because of it.
Gilhaut just stood in bemused confusion as the old soldier ranted... then chuckled.
Just like sargeant Belfonte when he was all twitterpated about attacking those bandits... over excitable, that was his problem. Didn't think we had a chance. Kept babbling about some nonsense about being outnumbered or some other tommy rot...
The thought of that glorious victory made him chortle outloud.
No need to worry, be of good cheer, I'll be there right next to you! You're just nervous about the ole' push an' dig in at the next great chukka, what! Over excited, nervous energy, that's your problem, he says grinning good naturedly at Herrick. Once you get stuck in an' give Johnny Monster a taste of steel you'll be right as rain!