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Alvartus lurks at the edge of the firelight, leaning against a wagon or tree if possible. He licks his lips at the sight of a decent meal, but is hesitant to join the gypsies. "Must be serious trouble in the village if a people used to the swamp are afraid. Or maybe it's just superstition?"
"Oh great, wandering folk. Keep your valuables hidden. But a fire and food would do wonders about now." Alvartus has consumed his only ration.
Alvartus stares grimly at the deceased paladin, standing over the body with his shadow falling over the equipment. "Alright, enough standing around. I don't like getting stabbed." With that said, he starts unbuckling the chain shirt from the body. "Take what you need, he won't care."
Alvartus sleeps until all his companions are awake. His morning routine involves grumbling and scratching, though he carefully smooths out his hair and brushes off his armor. "So about these swords..."
Alvartus places the blades in his pack, as there are no suggestions otherwise. With that he nods off for good nights rest.
If Muerdon informs him of their magics, Alvartus hefts both swords, stabbing them into the lid of the chest. He notes any noticeable effects of the damage.
"Did someone say 'locked chest'? Let me at it!" Alvartus cautiously moves into the boat and checks the chest for traps. If it appears safe, he has his burlier compatriots move the chest to the campsite before tackling the lock. Open Lock = 29. Save this result for when he attempts, conditional upon his companions retrieving the chest.
Alvartus relishes the single coup de grace he likely has time for before all the frogs are finished off. With an unexpected flourish of grace from his rapier, he punctures the brain of a sleeping frog. "Hmm. I guess none of these were polymorphed Princes."
Next Turn: With a sadistic grin, Alvartus steps to the remaining frog and attempts another Sneak Attack. Flank attack: 1d20+3=15, sneak attack 1d6+1+1d6=6.
Alvartus takes in the situation, and if possible he moves to flank an opponent and stabs with his rapier.
"Kavelin, my "professional experience" mandates that we take as many as we can carry. One can always get rid of something, but it's much harder to use it if you don't have it on you." Alvartus begins making a crude bed by putting a half-dozen chairs together.
Alvartus waits until somebody else in the group does something. If someone wades across successfully, he follows shortly afterwards. If it looks like they are building a raft, he waits for its completion.
If Kavelin appears steady on the sandbar, Alvartus joins him nonchalantly, whistling while waiting for his supposed compatriots.
Alvartus snatches the box, hefts it to check its weight, and puts it in his pack. Then proceeds to move back to the main room to makes his announcement about the torches.
If he has the time, he checks the box for traps: Search: 1d20+8=18. Otherwise, he simply grabs the box (in either case, stuffing it in his backpack) and heads back to the main chamber. "If we need light sources, these magical torches should suffice."
Alvartus scrambles deftly to his feet, avoiding all injury and avoiding nausea with the ableness of a sailor. He quickly moves about the room, unhurried as if nothing had happened, searching for anything that could have value as supplies. Search check: 1d20+8=10 "Leave it to a bloody dragon to crash the party. I'm pretty sure it got a good look at all of us. We should take our time to prepare to leave this wreck - no sense running off like a bunch of skittering kobolds."
Alvartus, his head bowed towards the floor, looks under heavy brows at Grenep. "Yes, I'm worried. Worried she'll get herself killed before we get paid. And another thing, please tell me that when we get into the thick of it you won't be so talkative. I can just picture it now 'Oh hey, look over here, a secret door! Oh, I do hope those friendly guards over there don't hear use sneaking in!' BAH!"
"Hmm. Flair for the dramatic indeed." Alvartus sets about picking his teeth, waiting to see how the situation unfolds. He makes a mental note of the faces shown in the images.
Alvartus grunts. "Best be worth it; I'm in."
"Silver princess, you say? Well, sounds all fine and noble to me. Giants, if they are giants, aren't always the brightest bulbs around. Besides, even the Dwarffather knows I prefer an enemy I can run underneath to one I can't see!"
"Let's talk contracts. I'm not one to be bound limb, favor, soul, and means to anything. How long is this "service" to last? What if we want out early?" Alvartus squints his eyes at their host, looking for anything memorable or distinctive under that armor. He appears unphased by the sudden appearance.
"I'm countin' on it. I'd rather steal from one dragon than a thousand noblemen. Excludin' of course if I don't get away with it."
"Risk, reward - it's all a bloody tightrope act if you ask me. I'm not disagreeing, but I'm just gettin' sick of stealing from robber barons."
"Now, currency I can relate too. Gold, jewels, trinkets...favors. Nothing more valuable than debt."
"Or he just intends to distract us from his true intentions." Alvartus is ready for just about anything to greet them - female, monster, disembodied voice, construct, he expects anything including the expected.
Alvartus looks at the magic chair for a moment before deciding better of it and leaning against the wall behind the chair and crossing his arms over his chest.
Havin felt the soothing nature of the town's wards, Alvartus will reluctantly enter the boat last.
Alvartus has his hand on his rapier, readying an action to draw if anything attacks the party.
"Well, ya sure know how to stroke the ego. Seems to me our potential benefactor has a flair for the dramatic. That could be a good thing, I certainly appreciate it, but it could mean trouble. Either way, I plan on being ready. Even an ally might take the chance to test his friends." Alvartus casts a sidelong look at Caith, and it is obvious to the dwarf that he is referring to the tenets of the Dwarffather, and what Alvartus calls his "unreasonable demands".
Alvartus calmly rises, happy not to pay for his meal. Without much to his name, he has no means or reason to purchase equipment. He knocks over his chair as he stands, not glancing back to even consider picking it up. He quietly follows Caith outside once he leaves.
Alvartus slips into the inn at a later hour and order some roast boar with red wine, expecting to have to skip out on the bill. He eats his food as if he was a nobleman, cleanly and with delicate precision. Anyone watching would wonder how he got so large eating food so slowly - until they see how much he eats.
"I see no reason for delay. Let's seek out this Charlie and his ship and see what awaits our pockets in all this nonsense." Alvartus starts walking in a direction he assumes is the river (if he has been given a clue where he goes that way) as if he knows exactly where he is going. He doesn't wait for anyone to follow, but if he realizes he is getting out of sight of Cailith he will stop and attempt to Hide and watch his companions.
Spot: d20+2=22 to see the Winter Wolf's lips moving. Assuming that is good enough that he notices, Alvartus' ears perk up as the Winter Wolf's mouth moves. He is unable to make out the words.
Alvertus stands behind his comrades hoping not to be noticed. Move Silently (d20+5=14) then Hide (d20+5=6)
If he is addressed he will respond. "Keen eyes, mate. I be Alvertus, and I appreciate the hospitality and warmth of this town. Not such a fan of rules as some of these other blokes. Will ol' Charlie be putting us up for the night, or can you direct us to an inn?"
"I ain't from around here, mores the pity." Alvartus will look around making sure to stay away from obvious seedy areas. When the orc approaches and gets into a "discussion" with Cailith, Alvartus is quick to drop to one knee, hand to his belt on his rapier. With an eyebrow cocked, he watches the situation unfold, and once confident that it was simply a misunderstanding, he returns to his work looking for the docks and this mysterious "Higher than the Sun".
"Hmm. A city in the wilderness with the doors wide open? They must be expecting us, for good or ill. Well, idle hands find no coin!" With that, Alvartus hefts his backpack over his round shoulders and with a waddling gait moves towards the entrance to Waterlog. He looks back over his shoulder, squinting his eyes at his new companions. "Well, are you blokes coming or not?"
First in, checking for traps on the thread!
Huzzah! Now to get my filthy hands on some ill-gotten gains.
Waterlog. Sounds like a bunch of drunken lumberjacks and fishermen. Sure to find some marks there, I reckon. So, if I "kill" a chest, that means I get everything in it? Sound right to me, boyos.
Ah yes, questing. I had thought my days of that were done, but wine, women, and, uh, "securities" can be a drain on the coffers. Might I suggest we decide how to divide the loot now?
Great. Do-gooders. Let's just agree to stay out of each-others business, shall we? After all, you can't disable a trap with your big sword. I'm smart enough to admit I'm no dragonslayer. I can always help ease some of that "victor's guilt" by tithing you for, um, the church...you belong to. Yeah.
I thought that was what we were doing here?
::Starts eyeing the wizards coin purse::
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