Dunno why, but I got it into my head that Fealix was before me in the turn order, and was waiting to see what HE was going to do. Go figure that he was waiting to see what I was going to do. Sorry about that.
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Noting that his attempt at cold-hearted murder against the formerly sleeping Imp had failed, Caim shot the now awake Imp a deadpan look, before putting a finger to his lips. 'Shh... it's alright, just go back to sleep. No reason for you to wake up.' Caim shook his head ruefully, before foregoing finesse and settled for repeatedly stabbing his sword into the prone creature.
Yet for all of his wild stabbing, it appeared that the Imp was only mildly uncomfortable, as opposed to being in great pain, which had been the goal.
Caim noticed the sleeping Imp, which was at Iolana's feet before her moving away, gave a small smirk whilst taking a small step towards the prone body, and thrust his sword into its skull. Coup de Grace attempt: In his haste to end the Imp whist it was vulnerable, his stab wasn't as accurate as it could have been, and Caim could tell that the cut was nearly as bad as it could have been.
Caim swung his bastard sword at the imp he'd previously struck, a sense of confidence eminating from his body language.
However, partway through his swing, he noticed the lil' dragons moving into flanking formations, including himself and his comrades as fellow flankees. This display of strategy by the small winged lizards shocked him to the point that he aborted his attack and stared in shock. 'Wow... there's something you don't see every day.'
My blood feels as though it is turning to fire, maybe my love of casting spells using the draconic tongue is coming around to turn me into a great winged reptile... I don't wanna be no dragon... I'm happy as I am; and I am... '...I AM A SEVÍRÉ!' Caim bellowed, seemingly at random, before thrusting his bastard sword at the nearest imp.
Perhaps because of the pain that his blood had become, or maybe his temporary insanity included temporary blindness, but Caim's jab missed. By miles. To the point where the only way it could have been worse was if he were to accidentally stab himself. Blinking in shock, Caim eyed his sword warily, before looking at the chaos that had erupted. 'Where'd the midget dragons come from?'
Tyler's reaction caused Caim to blink, any humour and faux-anger at the jokes leaving his expression. He didn't pay attention to the knives threatening his (not fat) gut, but still released his grip on the Halfling's head. After he took a step back, the Magus focused on Tyler with an uncharacteristic seriousness, with mild anger mixed in, though the anger was not directed at the centre of his attention. 'What in the Hells did he DO to you? No, you know what, I don't want to know. I'd only want to kill him, and he's already dead.' Clearly, there was a line that he had unwittingly crossed, a detail that Caim made a mental note about. No grabbing the Halfling, or at least, not the head of the Halfling, because it triggered flashbacks of a nature best left... 'Ouch!' Oh yea, he'd shouted about Imps hadn't he? Caim turned a dour eye to the Imp which had struck him, cursing the idiot students at the Academae who weren't able to control what they summoned.
Hopping back, Caim hissed in the draconic tongue, pulling forth his bastard sword. As his sword came free from its sheath, the Magus gave a particularly loud, guttural shout, and swung at the Imp which had struck him. If anyone were to pay attention, they'd note that the hand not holding his sword was crackling with electricity.
As the blade swung through the imp, Caim thrust his other hand forwards, grabbing the Imp's face with an iron grip, and the air was filled with the sound of electricity as Caim released the power pent up in his hand. The electricity traversed from his hand into the Imp's face, for all of 3 seconds, before Caim pulled his hand back, with a scowl.
And this is the part where someone tells me that I just did Spellstrike wrong, and explains in great detail why I fail at life.
'Very funny, kiddies. Children should be seen and not heard.' Once again, in a bout of insecurity, Caim lifted his tunic and eyed his chest with a critical eye, before he dropped his tunic and shot a glare at Tyler. 'Clearly someone dropped you on your head as a babe, for you have to be the single most delusional brat I've ever met. Mind, it explains so much about you, Runtalot, you and that particular brand of insanity that you so clearly possess.' A thought has Caim pause, and not, as some people would likely joke, because it was a rare occurrence for him, but more due to the content of said thought. Moving forwards, Caim grabbed the Halflings head and leaned forwards, examining his eyes intently.
'I wonder though, whether it isn't delusion you suffer from. Maybe you keep seeing me as over-weight, because your eyes are able to see something that the common man cannot. Maybe you somehow have the ability to see a man's ego. I am man enough to admit my faults and my ego, I confess, is abnormally large... UNLIKE my weight, which does not fall under the faults catagory, for it is a perfectly fine example of a manly physique. It might be that your eyes have evolved, and developed a new form of vision; the ability to look upon a man and see their ego! If this is the case, we must research this new phenomenon; this all-seeing eye! We should even name it! We could dub it the 'Byakugan', or the 'Ego-gazing Eye'... or maybe even 'That-eye-that-Caim-the-handsome-and-magnificent-bugger-that-he-is-discover ed'! Now to test it!' Here, Caim wrenched Tyler's head around so that he was gazing at some random guard. 'Quick, Tyler, what do you see, describe in great detail what it is that you can see! No wait, he isn't good enough...' Again, Caim wrenched Tyler's head, this time to face Fealix. 'What is it that you can see when you gaze upon the angry red man! Who knows, maybe you can see more than ego, maybe you'll even be able to actually see anger! Or sadism, or whatever motivation he had for wanting to yank off toenails as opposed to killing Lamm.'
GM:
Caim sighed, following the guard along the streets, feeling rather put upon with how his plans had been foiled. And then he was bitten!
'Gah! Git! Are you insane? Hellooo, is there anybody HO-OME? Or have all minds left the premises?' Not giving the freak a chance to reply, the Magus slammed his fist into his face a couple of times; the result being that the man fell to the street, and was dissuaded from trying anything further against Caim when the aforementioned Magus held up his hand, red electricity cackling in warning. The rest of the walk was apparently uneventful. 'Yo, Runt. Missed a meeting with the queen ey? Oh well, so long as you lot have my cut of the reward you so obviously were given.' Caim shook his head in bemusement, twisting his arm as though to remove an ache. He faced Iolana, giving a faint smile. 'Aye, very pleasantly cut. And for my excitement on the streets... Here, Caim winced, hand absently rubbing a wound that looks remarkably akin to a bite. 'Apparently being seen with the city guards warrants old geezers trying to nibble on you. Normally I'd feel guilty about shoving my fist in the face of the geriatric, but I'll gladly make an exception when they bite me. So not into that kind of thing... Never mind that he was old enough to be my grandfather's grandfather.'
For GM's Eyes Only, unless you're nosey: Caim frowned, dog-earing his already worn tome, and looked up to face the Dwarf, mild grin evident on his face.
'"Wizzard" types?' He asked, eyebrow raised. 'Do I have a pointy hat with the word Wizzard written upon it with sequins? Nay? Then there be your answer. Now if you are asking whether I am an intelligent, good looking man with the power of the cosmos at my finger-tips, then yes, yes I am. And as to the whole reward thing? I don't enjoy the idea of standing before people who might or might not have been indirectly responsible for my good name now being tainted by declaring me a criminal... and only then realizing that the evidence wasn't enough. Didn't stop my name from being sullied though.' It was clear that Caim was still bitter about that little detail, and Lamm's death not being the solution to that dilemma. 'Besides, if they haven't been gutted and executed for a crime they never committed, then sooner or later, they'll be dragging their rear ends back to this fine establishment. I can always nab my share of any reward that may or may not exist then. Either that or pretend I don't know them as they get chased around by the law for the aforementioned crimes that they never committed... No wait... I'd pretend not to know them while flinging spells at them which conveniently miss and hit the ones that are chasing them! Except the runt, I'll happily launch a fireball up his rear for repeatedly calling me fat. Do I look fat to you? No, I do NOT! I am perfection personified!'
Caim'll remain at the tavern, eating breakfast while once again paging through his leather tome.
Caim shook his head in distaste at Fealix and his overly blunt words, before he turned to face Iolana. eyebrow raised in imitation of her current expression. 'So... do you practice being so vague, or does it simply come naturally? I mean, that wasn't a vague answer at all, oh no, you told me everything about them right down to the, wait... no, I barely know anything even after that descriptive picture you painted. I'm just going to assume that you believe them to be as much trouble as if the REAL legions of the Prince of Hell turned up. Unless you have more yet you wish to share?' On his realization that the Sarge wasn't speaking any longer, Caim grabbed one last pint before disassociating himself from the man, though leaving behind his tab, after all, the man had offered! Infernal: 'Let's see just how Hellish these Hell Knights turn out to be then. Damn it, my good mood ruined, for the second day in a row! Can't a man have a good morning?'
Caim tutted, twisting his head around to glance at Fealix, eyes narrowed. 'C'mon, have a heart!' He frowned. 'Me good friend here... (Damnit, what IS his name) has lost everything, and we aren't all strong enough of mind and soul to just say 'oh well, let us start anew!' All my old friend here can do is have a drink or two... and share some drinks with his old friends, whilst we talk about old time and how times are clearly unfair towards good honest men like... him.' He tutted again, turning back to the soldier, grabbing his tankard and gulping down several mouthfuls, before facing the drunk again. 'So tell me.... Old Friend... (How do I get him to reveal his name without him realizing I'm not Neffi?) how did you lose the love of your life? I thought things were going so well between you! And YOU angered your master? YOU? Seriously, what did you do? And do not worry overly much about the riots, for if mine ears do not deceive me...' Here, Caim eyed Iolana, as if to confirm what he'd overheard her saying was true, '...Why, Hell Knights are going to restore order! It might not be ideal, but at the very least, the rioting will end and we'll be able to work things out better after that. ...Now, how's about another pint... my good and glorious, if a little down on his luck, friend?' Leaning back, Caim looked pleased with himself, as though he'd managed a great feat of skill in talking to the drunk as he had, before a look of confusion crossed his face, and he turned to face Iolana, eyebrow twitching. '...Quick question... the Hell Knights sound familiar but I can't recall much about them. Who were they? The title 'Hell' does NOT bring good images to mind.'
Finished with his song, Caim nevertheless continued to hum an offbeat tune before he frowned. 'I wonder how a Chromatic Dragon would take to my singing... it was only their dialect I just mangled after all. Probably be awed by the amazing good looks of Caim Sevíré.' At the drunken soldier's cries for Caim to accept a drink, the Magus' face lights up. 'Nah, I got this, my fair lady.' He winked in what he believed to be a roguish fashion.
He quickly moved to stand beside the drunkard soldier, sitting down beside him as though he had every right to do so. 'Ah, yes... YOU! My good and glorious friend! Who am I to say no to a free drink or two?' He beamed, waving the barkeep over, despite it being fairly obvious that he was simply taking advantage of the mistaken identity crisis. Still, whether it be some goodness from within Caim... from down inside Caim, or because he didn't want the drunk to get the chance to actually think about why Caim didn't look and sound exactly like this 'Neffi', assuming that he wasn't too far drunk for such an action, he spoke up again after a moment of silence, if one ignored the weeping. 'Why the tears my old friend? Surely your lot in life hasn't been so bad as to reduce a proud man like yourself to bawling in a tavern? Talk to me, maybe I can help.'
Morning, Caim's favourite time of day, if only because he always woke up feeling in an explicable good mood. Today was no different, as Caim more or less skipped down the stairs and to a table, singing in draconic, drawing more than a couple of odd looks, to which he mused, just singing louder in response, that he'd never actually heard anyone singing in draconic before. Then again, he was man enough to admit that with his voice, what he was doing wasn't really singing, it was more akind to making everyone wish that they were deaf. Spotting Raz, Caim took a seat next to him, opening his leather-bound tome and reading the words, not letting up with singing. At the sight of a glass beaker vibrating, the human shook his head, before he dismissed it as his imagination.
He'd hate Hablion more than most. Hablion is probably the most... unique character I ever rolled; my first proper experience playing DnD, and still not yet used to the novelty of 'your imagination is supposedly the limit', I felt the need to test this during the first fight we were involved in; Hablion gave a war cry, ran at a group of Orcs waving his great sword as if to bisect his target... and then booted the Orc in its happy place. Afterwards, due to nobody letting me forget that moment, I just made it into Hablion's trademark and dubbed him the 'Boot of Justice'. He became known as the Paladin who introduced himself to a dwarf by shouting 'Oi, short and stumpy!' and kicking his foes in the nads as his opening attack. Needless to say, years later, people still feel the need to remind me about him... I miss Hablion, he was fun. And as I said, Fealix would be the sort of person Hablion would feel the need to administer swift justice... unless Fealix hid his evilness... but then would he be amused by this holy knight in blindingly shiny armour kicking everyone in the joy sack or would that be disturbing even for him? --- Hmm... it just occured to me that I haven't yet looked to see my new stats and any new class skills... I'll get on that before I do anything else here.
It was the floor of a pier... so what I just said still goes, so nyer! :-P Ooh, if Caim dies... I might have to bring in Hablion, just so everyone can see a true Paladin... the Boot of Justice will return! MWAHAHAHA! Actually, now I'm curious as to how Fealix would react to Hablion, especially if Hablion decided that Fealix deserved his unique brand of justice... probably be a dead Paladin by the end of the day...
Caim'll also head to the tavern for the night.
*sigh* It could be worse, I could be Iolana... but rolling a three? where's my usual luck with Hit Dice? Usually I get max, or close to it... this is just... *sigh* Ah well, Caim is an intelligent enough geezer that he'll be fine, assuming he doesn't fall through any more floors.
At the revelation of the head-in-a-box, Caim blinked, shaking his head as though trying to clear away any mental images before taking another look, eyebrow raised in curiosity. Fealix's disregard for the head, as evidenced by his casually tossing it aside, had Caim shake his head in bemusement. Raz's exclamation triggered a quiet scoff, and he turned to face him. 'So long as it ain't digging up the corpse and performing necromancy or necrophilia, who cares? Being dead, she ain't going to care. I agree that he could be more gentle, but she ain't about to complain... or is it that you feel sick in the stomach around dead bodies, or heads, as the case may be?' Shaking his head again, and only half paying attention to Zellara's... ghost? poltergeist? Vengeful Spirit of Woe? Caim turned to Iolana, and gave her a deadpan look at her words. 'Remember that these three are former slaves of Lamm, I'm almost certain that whether or not they admit it, a few bad habits carried over from their time in his company.'
Caim closed his eyes, feeling the healing energies wash over him, knitting up all remaining injuries, bar a single tooth-mark on his shoulder, courtesy of the, as Raz had put it, overgrown guppy. Removing his makeshift sling, the magus grimaced at the blood-stained sash before he rolled his eyes and tied it back around his waist. 'I swear... that Runt is going to give me a damn complex, the way he keeps on about my weight.' Caim sighed, examining his waist, as though trying to see body fat which did not exist. At the watchman's gasp and exclamation of how the broach was the queen's property, Caim let out another sigh. 'Shame, I liked the look of that broach, but if it is indeed the queen's, then I won't get to even lay a finger upon it, let alone keep it. As for the lil' statue there Fealix... interesting taste, but succubi were never my bag of tea, so you're welcome to it.' Once he finished giving his unwanted and pointless words, he moved to stand next to Iolana, ready to help her in any way he could; being knowledgeable in the fields of the arcane as he was, he felt confident that if the contents of the box were indeed magical, he could at the very least be able point out what it was, if not what it did and how it did it.
At Fealix's clapping, Caim turned and gave a bow, as though he were an actor on stage, accepting the applause of the audience after the tale was over, before sheathing his blade, confident in the knowledge that it was no longer needed. His grin faded somewhat at Iolana's condemnation. 'To be fair, my lady, I USUALLY kill things with the power of my mind, however, due to a potentially defective potion, I was unable to do so. You can't get much more graceful than that. Now, I have bad news for Ialana and sorta bad news for Fealix, which can double as good news. For the fair lady, no, we have yet to find a treasury, or else I just haven't noticed it, what with being preoccupied with the big lizard there... as well as the pain from wrestling with a shark. For Fealix, yeah, we found him, and before he could even give off that typical villainous 'I have been expecting you, now prepare to die'; the runt over there stabbed him in the kidney. I regret to inform you that you will not get to pull off his toe-nails, at least not whilst he still lives, I can't even guarantee that he felt his death. I don't even know if he saw the runt coming, seeing as he was dead before I even entered the room.' Caim sighed, running a hand through his hair, with a wry grin on his face, though a closer look would reveal conflicted emotions in his eyes. 'I don't suppose you've found any evidence that I wasn't the one to do the crime I was accused of did you? Without Lamm able to squeal like a pig about my innocence, I'm going to need hard evidence, or my good name, such as it is, will be tainted.'
Clearly, the way to kick this thing's scaly behind, is to physically swing a weapon at it. Caim mused, after witnessing Tyler's successful attack on Gobblegut. Readying his bastard sword in his left hand, Caim gave another draconic roar, despite the lack of impressive spell-casting; this roar was simply a vulgar word that described just what Caim felt about the 'gator and its lineage, all in one convenient roar. Whilst he roared, the magus lunged forwards, bringing his blade to meet scaly hide.
Caim managed to stab Gobblegut in the eye, and Caim found a twisted pleasure in twisting the blade around in the now vacant eye-socket, before wrenching the blade from its temporary sheath in a shower of gore, blood, mangled eye and even possibly some of the oversized lizard's brain matter, all the while, he laughed maniacally, slicing his sword through the air as though killing a multitude of unseen foes with great ease. 'MWAHAHAHAHA! Why doncha gobble down on some of THAT! NOBODY messes with CAIM SEVÍRÉ! Do you want more, I got more waiting! Best of all, that was LEFT-HANDED! I was taking it easy on you! Why doncha try seeing how you'll fair against my RIGHT!' Caim bellowed out in a mocking gale of laughter, pausing only to spit at Gobblegut.
Having seen Tyler flat out miss Gobblegut, coupled with Raz's inability to get past the scales of the beast, Caim turned back to Raz, shaking his head. 'Seems it ain't just me. You might want to have that talk with your merchant, clearly he gave you defective ingredients... none of us can actually hit anything that isn't within spitting distance apparently. So far, the only thing that worked was that bomb of yours!'
Caim stared at the result of his spell, eye twitching, before he turned to give Raz a dour look. 'Either what pain remains after your potion is effecting my ability to aim, or your potion was defective and has drugs in it which do not blend well with spell-casting. If I find out it was the latter, I will not be pleased...'
'Oh, that felt good.' Caim sighed in bliss, feeling the pain in his arm fade as his arm knitted itself back together, though not completely, but enough. The next few moments seemed to rush by in a blur, and when Caim next felt able to process what was happening, a large crocodile, or was it alligator? had just climbed out of the water and was obviously looking for a meal. 'Gobblegut, I presume?' He asked dryly, moving so that he was 25 ft away from the oversized lizard, hand twitching. Hissing in the tongue of the dragons, Caim thrust his hand out. An ethereal dragon head formed around Caim's arm, looking strangely alive, eyes rolling to examine the room, giving the occasional blink, before narrowing at Gobblegut. The head gave a small clicking sound, mouth opening. 'Do the world a favour, go extinct. Caim grunted, before he screamed out a word in draconic; which came out sounding as though he were actually a dragon bellowing at its prey, while the dragon head spat out a stream of ice-cold mist which engulfed Gobblegut.
'Yes, please, do keep on insulting me, we all know it's because you're jealous that I am taller than you can ever hope to be, runt. It takes a real brave man to insult an injured person who can't properaly retaliate!' Caim growled at Tyler, while he tried to shift himself into a more comfortable position, cursing under his breath when he jarred his injured arm. 'What was the city thinking, letting something like that run amok in their waters? Foolish kids going skinny dipping would be killed by the dozen!' His good hand removed his sash from around his waist, and the magus tied it into an improvised sling, keeping his arm steady so that any movement from him would be less likely to jar his arm. Scowling at his right arm, and its condition, Caim reached his left hand to his blade and pulled it free from its sheath, with some awkwardness, as it had clearly had his right hand in mind for its use. 'I doubt I'll be up to much... It's a real struggle to stay awake right now... Though if you have no issue with burning the little terrors, I could likely manage a single spell... I'd rather not though...' As he spoke, Caim found himself repeatedly blinking his eyes, swaying on the spot, similar to how one would appear when they hadn't gotten any sleep for an extended period of time and were struggling to to fall asleep on their feet. Clearly, now that the adrenaline from wrestling with the shark was gone, his body was trying to tell him that he needed rest and recuperation.
Caim, opting to keep half an eye on the shark, in case it was playing possum, spared a glance at the skiff which was clearly Lamm's secret escape vehicle. Shaking the cobwebs from his cranium, the magus latched onto the pier and attempted to climb a second time.
Can't burn the damned tuna, I'd burn the two runts... wait... does casting a spell count as a standard action... wait... am I breaking the forth wall? Oh Gods, I think I am! If casting a spell doesn't count as a standard action:
Caim violently jabbed his uninjured arm, indecently, his left, whilst he shouted in a foul language, known to the worlds as Infernal. After he finished his shout, a ray of ice fired forth from his palm, but this ice was tones of blacks, reds and purples, rather than the usual clear blues that one would expect from this particular spell. Likely this has something to do with the tongue in which he used to cast the spell.
Perhaps because he was too angry to concentrate properly, his spell flew harmlessly overhead. If it does:
Caim continued to hurl abusive language at the shark, bomb throwing, friendly firing runts and the world in general.
I am 19 for the love of whatever deity you worship! I am young, and dashing, and far better looking than you will ever be! Or I would be if my arm wasn't barely attached to my shoulder!'
Caim, in an attempt to prevent himself from screaming out in pain as his arm was almost torn off, bit his tongue, looking around wildly. He doubted that he'd be able to climb onto the dock post-haste, not with his arm as it was, and failing to do so would still have him adjacent to the... 'Giant puppy!? I never want to see the contents of your mind if is what you consider puppy-like!'
Taking advantage of Raz and the shark's preoccupation with each other, the young magus attempted to swim away , however, due to his condition, he only found himself able to move a scant five feet...
The bomb's flames washed over Caim, burning him. Before he can direct several infernal swear words at the one who decided that throwing bombs whilst he was in proximity to the intended victim of said bomb, the shark took a second attempt at trying to turn Caim into its lunch. Unfortunately, the combination of bomb and shark forced Caim from the realm of the awake and into a deep slumber otherwise known as being unconscious. If the shark isn't the one to finish him off, then the fact that he is floating in the waters means that he'll likely drown regardless. His last fleeting thought before the darkness engulfed him: 'Of all the ways to go, shark wrestling was not the glorious end I envisioned for myself... I blame the niddy that threw the bomb!'
His attempts to be nice and give space clearly failed him, as Caim found himself spitting out a mouthful of water with a grimace. A small trip through the pier was obviously not Caim's idea of a good time, as he immediately began to swear up a storm, switching regularly between Draconic, Gnoll, Infernal and Ignan, yet no words used were in the common tongue. Even if he hadn't learnt the languages purely for the choice swear words, that didn't mean that he hadn't learnt them regardless.
'Bloody hell, if I wanted a bath, I'd use a bath, not... Oh for the love of... Why the Hell are there sharks in these waters?' In the nick of time, Caim managed to move his leg out of the way of the shark's charge, if one can charge whilst swimming. Narrowing his eyes, Caim flexed the fingers of his left hand before yelling at the top of his lungs: 'Oh, you want a piece of me, do you? You want a piece of Caim Sevíré? Well then, if you want me, then why don't you ' As he gave out his fury-laced shout, he swept his left hand out in a sweeping gesture, vaguely in the direction of the shark, yelling out in draconic now. From his hand, a red ball appeared, which shifted into the shape of a miniature dragon. The dragon gave a silent roar before it flew foward, eyes seeming to scan the water, before it gave another roar and dove down to the shark, seemingly exploding on contact.
Whilst the spell did its work, the young magus grabbed at a solid part of the pair and tried to lift himself up. Even if he couldn't get all the way up at this moment in time, he hoped that one of his two companions would take the initiative and attempt to pull him up.
Caim's eyes widened slightly at the knowledge of just what Gobblegut was, before he glared at the water, as though trying to evaporate the river with his gaze alone... alas, he has yet to develop such power. 'Lamm has a pet alligator? And he named it 'Gobblegut'? Who in their right mind wakes up one morning and thinks to them-self: 'you know what I need? I need a pet alligator, which I'll proceed to dub Gobblegut, y'know, cuz it'll gobble the guts of mine foes! oh ho ho ho, aren't I witty?' The more I hear, the less I like Lamm, and I didn't like him to begin with.' Caim muttered. 'And with the amount of complaining you're doing, I can barely hear the groaning and squeaking! Instead I hear moaning and whining!' Even as he spoke, he adjusted himself so that there was more room between himself and his companions, giving a small smile to Tyler to let him know that he was simply jesting.
Hand resting on the hilt of his blade, Caim made to follow, thoughts turning in his mind. 'Who is Gobblegut?' He asked, tone making it seem as though he were asking for thoughts on the weather. Memories came up of words dropped, all regarding this Gobblegut, including Yargin's pleas, that he'd be fed to, ironically enough, Gobblegut. 'Let me rephrase that... WHAT is Gobblegut?
Caim scowled, noting that the water looked swim-able, if not conductive to one's hygiene, but the floating fish-head caught his eye. Several seconds later, it was out of his field of vision, though the splash told him what happened to it. The ripples faded quickly, and Caim found himself struggling to remember whether or not that was a good sign or not. Surely the disturbance ending quickly was the mark of something used to hunting waters? Or did it just mean some desperate person hidden from their sight had snatched the fish head in a desperate attempt to combat his hunger. The cloaked human shook his head and turned to the group. 'I'd hold that thought... There's something in the water... does anyone have any idea what wildlife would be around these parts? Particularly of the aquatic variety?' He asked, before detailing what he'd seen/heard. 'Might be a better idea to take a different route, if we don't feel like wrestling sharks or what have you.'
Caim waited for everyone else to exit, and listened to Fealix's menacing hiss, nodding. 'As mentioned before, I'll gladly go down there myself, and burn his means of escape. Raz also volunteered, so unless he has had any second thoughts, I vote we go down there now, lest we lose the opportunity.' As he spoke, Caim adjusted his cloak, so that he could throw it off quickly when/if he did move to check the skiff.
Caim borrowed his brow, looking sharply at Yargin, though he didn't see whatever fear it was that Fealix had latched onto, though he can envision a number of reasons why he might be so. None of them were good. As Yargin opened the door for the small group, Caim eyed the 'businessman', whose hand had gone into his pocket. Shaking his head ruefully, he pulled his cloak's hood up and exited the building, keeping Yargin at the edge of his field of vision the whole time he moved.
Caim bowed his head in thought, running everything heard once he'd entered the room through his head, before he turned to look at everyone, eyebrow raised, and spoke in a lowered tone. 'Angelic? Nope, I speak the opposite end of the spectrum, as well as sharing languages with a certain breed of winged reptile, though I mainly learnt that one for the glorious swear words.' He shrugged, easily lying about why he could speak multiple languages in order to deter anybody who might overhear the conversation ; before he turned to Iolana, and spoke again, lowering his voice further due to the slightly more sensitive context of his words, as opposed to his linguistics skills. 'I'd be willing to go climb under the building, or swim there, and burn his skiff myself. I'll go alone if need be, but I would prefer to have someone watch my back; only an idiot wouldn't have some form of protection for their escape plan. After all, this is supposed to be his life-line, if he actually feels threatened, it would be useless if some petty vandal stumbled across it after skinny dipping and decided to burn it. Perhaps a two pronged assault? Me and a someone go down below, and work our way back, the rest work their way down, we meet in the middle? Or would we prefer to stick together as a single group, strength in numbers?'
As Fealix moved to the door, giving it several sharp knocks, Caim's palm met his forehead. 'Is he trying to get us killed?' He asked, rhetorically; making certain that nobody could hear his muttering. The door opened, and Caim found himself grimacing. Ye gods, that is one ugly sunnuva... a humble businessman? with a face like that? Not bloody likely... He was mildly surprised when, without missing a beat, Fealix managed to bluff his way past the so-called businessman. With a shrug, Caim moved to follow, keeping an eye on Yargin, as he had identified himself; left hand twitching, the feeling of pent up energy awaiting release caused an itch come forth. One wrong move from Yargin, and Caim was be ready.
'If I were Lamm, I wouldn't either.' Caim shrugged, eyeing the structure thoughtfully. 'Think we could get to the roof from that abandoned warehouse?' He pointed to the warehouse in question. 'No sense in using conventional means of breaking in if we can help it. Hells, I'm wondering whether we could create a door from under the water, come up right in the middle of this decrepit old shack.' The human rubbed his chin, stuck deep in thought, examining the building with a critical eyes.
Caim gave a mock pout at whispers, getting a sense that he he was being judged, though he couldn't hear what was actually said. Apparently, the concept of a morning person was a strange and foreign idea to these people. 'Nothing wrong with being a morning person.' He huffed, before gazing at the drunk asking for ale. 'Smells like someone has already had more than enough to drink. The mention of selling fish removes all cheer from the human, and he narrowed his eyes at the old man, recalling that someone called Yargin was buying old or bad fish, though why anyone would want to buy a fish that had already gone bad eluded Caim's sense of logic. 'Interesting.'
Caim blinked at Tyler's question, one of his eyebrows twitching. 'Pfft. Revenge? I'd be concerned for my mental health if the thought of revenge was enough to get me all cheery.' He shrugged. 'Is it such a crime to just wake up feeling as though if I were to sit on a chamber-pot, rainbows would come forth... actually, that's a rather disturbing mental picture. Just pictures the gossip about a feat like that: 'Behold the wonders of the man with the rainbow poo'.' Giving a small chuckle, Caim dog-eared his book, before closing it with a snap, and faced the Halfling fully. 'I've always been a morning person. Nothing like waking up, refreshed from the toils of the previous day. And as for food, a very good idea, my vertically challenged companion. HOI, BARKEEP! HOW'S ABOUT SOME BREAKFAST OVER HERE! I HAVE COIN TO SPARE, AND A NEED TO SPEND IT UPON!'
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