Robin shakes his head, but leaves chastising Omast to Vethorm. He instead responds to Rabus "Did Urnsul say anything else? Because while she may not have anything directly to do with his death, we do think she might know something." He chooses his words carefully not to further inflame Omast. "What did she say about the Hopeknife?"
Seeing his... friend? Was Vethorm a friend? Close enough. Seeing his friend come out of the loud drinking place, Purg leaves the wall behind and tries to keep pace. "Vethorm okay? Purg understand. As wise ones say, it not easy be green." Purg tries a smile, but between his soggy face and the fact that goblin smiles tend to be unnerving, it wasn't feeling right on his face for this particular time. "What we do now? Purg sleepy, but can keep going if we need to."
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Rabus ignores Omast for the moment and scratches his scruffy neck. ”Well, she didn’t say anything about the Hopeknife ceremony specifically, but I took what she said about missing the festivities to mean that event.” He pauses for a moment to pour a drink for another patron before returning to the point. ”Now that I think on it, she did say something else odd, when she was a few mugs in. “That pretty-boy Grath should keep an eye open. He’ll eventually poke his head where it don’t belong, maybe catch a plague if he’s not careful.” No idea what she meant, but people say odd things when in their cups.”
Omast looks sideways at the barkeep before waving him off and then stumbling towards the door. ”’Thorm and Kratz!” The drunk guard shouts to no one and everyone. ”The l’t a ya can gre’ the Dark Prinz an’ ta town be all’t bett’r f’r’t.” He then lurches out the open door into the fading light of the evening.
Outside, Purg and Vethorm can see Omast heading towards the lower gates, away from the Longhouse where he would normally stay.
"That is a strange thing to say..." Robin leans against the bar. "And the rest of what she shared sure feels more menacing in retrospect. Knowing about Rodrick and all." Robin looks like he's about to ask another question when Omast suddenly surges out of the bar "Agh, we should probably go after him before he pitches into a hole somewhere or stumbles upon another batch of wolves."
Seeing his... friend? Was Vethorm a friend? Close enough. Seeing his friend come out of the loud drinking place, Purg leaves the wall behind and tries to keep pace. "Vethorm okay? Purg understand. As wise ones say, it not easy be green." Purg tries a smile, but between his soggy face and the fact that goblin smiles tend to be unnerving, it wasn't feeling right on his face for this particular time. "What we do now? Purg sleepy, but can keep going if we need to."
"No, Purg. Vethorm very much NOT okay," Vethorm replies, wiping tears from his face with the back of his gauntlet. Then he sees Omast barge past them and in what's clearly the wrong direction. "I guess what we do now is go after that a$!+&$%."
He begins marching after Omast.
"OI! OMAST! THE LONGHOUSE IS THAT WAY!" he calls.
Rabus checks on Wild. "You know," he says to the strange gnome. "In your excitement, your wound seems to have opened. You're bleeding."
Wild stares intensely at Rabus for a moment then down at his wound and cackles loudly. He suddenly splashes the entire mug of ale all over his bitten flesh, making a crimson-tinted pool of alcohol on the floor.
" Now there's blood on the ground!"
Mere seconds later, Wild jumps off the stool and bolts for the door.
"VETHORM! WAIT FOR ME! The signs have spoken! We still have revenge to do!"
"Oh dear. Well uh, hopefully we can convince him to come back afterward and clean that. Sorry Rabus." Robin hops up and heads for the door as well.
Vethorm glowers as Wild calls after him, but says nothing.
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Wild lives up to his name as he runs out into the evening air, followed shortly by Robin, Hilde, and Ranhild. Vethorm and Purg are just heading off to catch up with Omast when suddenly they hear a shout as he is approaching an alley.
One second Omast is about to lean on a nearby wall, then suddenly he is gone, presumably around the corner. "Arh," the old drunk shouts. "Wat's da mennin?"
Then a woman's voice can be heard from the same direction. "Quiet old man."
For the second time in a day, Purg sees and hears things he doesn't quite believe, and is very sad to have to pull out his trusty companion and load it. He approaches where Omast disappeared, though not quite ready to go around the corner himself lest he wind up harmed.
Looking up at the sudden commotion, Ranhild slips her shield onto her arm, drawing her hammer as she moves toward the end of the alley.
Seeing Omast disappear and Purg spring into action, Vethorm's brow furrows and he draws his shortsword, creeping forward to see who's apparently accosted the man.
His attempt is stymied by the gravel under his feet, and he gives an annoyed sigh, figuring going loud would at least give Purg cover.
"HEY!" he calls, breaking into a rush to round the bend before they can drag Omast off.
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Purg moves forward towards the assailant who seems intent on taking Omast. He takes cover against the wall and loads his crossbow, preparing to fight. Verthorm takes the lead, showing his respect for the old guard, even though he rarely receives the same. He barrels forward, focused on the thug who had grabbed Omast, nearly missing the ambush before it was too late.
Verthorm takes a quick count. One, two, three… six! Six thugs are lying in wait. One has hands on Omast but the others seem prepared to attack. Each of the remaining thugs begins turning over a small tube of green liquid, which quickly turns solid into a blade-like form. Some kind of alchemical blade.
Multiple thugs approach Verthorm, now with these unusual blades in hand. The original thug that grabbed Omast pushes him deeper into the alley and draws an actual shortsword. He waves the blade in front of Vethorm and speaks with a voice dripping with poison. ”When I spill your innards, what color will they be half-blood?”
Wild comes barreling around the corner after Vethorm, into combat. He draws his ripsaw glaive with smooth instinct and charges at the nearest thug, yelling as he runs.
"F***," Vethorm swears under his breath as the ambush emerges, until he sees Wild join the fray.
"Red. Like yours will be when we're done with you," he replies to the thug as he takes a glancing slice at the thug passing him by.
"Oh no... Who are you all? Don't tell me..." Robin moves up to stand with Wild and draws a dagger from his belt.
Sizing up the opposition, Hilde considers and then casts shield of faith on Ranhild. Then she readies her own mace and shield.
Giving Hilde a nod of thanks as she feels the protective magic settle on her, Ranhild calls upon her own magic as glowing golden runes flare to life on both her hammer and shield. Ready to engage, the shieldmaiden makes her way forward, pushing past her smaller allies to move toward the front, offering herself up as a target for the advancing thugs.
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Ranhild channels her magic into her shield and hammer, then closes to the enemies past Wild and Robin. At the same time another thug closes with Vethorm, armed with the familiar crystalline blade as well. They are shocked to note that Ranhild is directly beyond the corner, but quickly adjusts to defend themselves from multiple enemies. ”A naked dwarf?” The thugs words drip with malice. ”I always thought they were born in steel. Ha!”