Caith leaps up from his chair and rushes to the insensate form of Charles, kneeling down next to him. He waits for the half-orc to clear the area before attempting to divine just what has ailed the man.
Search Posts
"Aye, I be yer dwarf, then. Th' Dwarffather teaches tha' th' giants--an' most o' their kin, fer tha' matter--be enemies o' all tha' be good an' true," Caith chimes in. He fingers his axe, grinning as only a dwarf can, and continues, "An' yer right, Alvartus: giants be pretty easy tae see, even if they be not so easy tae bring down!"
"I be Caith Crunnelon, o' th' clan MacCailain. Fer short, ye can call me Caith. Th' Dwarffather called me tae service many a season ago," the stout dwarf introduces himself. He mulls the armored man's offer for a moment before continuing, "Th' Dwarffather asks us tae assist those tha' need it. 'Twould be my honor tae be a part o' any venture tha' better'd th' world. "Know this, though: His teachings come afore any quests tha' ye might be settin' afore meself. If'n tha' be acceptable, I be yer dwarf," he finishes.
Caith awaits the answer in silence, as well.
As Alvartus catches up with the odd pairing of the dwarf and the orc, Caith turns to him and asks, "Sae, Pick, d'ye hae any thoughts as tae our new employer's methods? Seems a wee bit cloak-an'-dagger tae me, but tha' may jus' be me imagination, eh?"
Finishing up his draught of ale, Caith stoppers the huge jug and stows it before hefting his massive pack and axe. He follows the others out the door and towards the dock with a rolling gait.
Grenep turns to Caith and just looks at him for a moment. Then he grins and sticks out his huge paw. "Never thought I'd be breaking bread and drinking with a Dwarf but if it was ever gonna happen this sure seems like the place for it" He says, looking around at the amazing diversity of the peoples in this strange but remarkable town. "And I've heard that Dwarven ale can't be beat. And I Do like my Ale" And he grin gets even bigger, unfortunately, on his face, it only makes him uglier Taken slightly aback at the ugly half-orc's behavior, Caith blinks (a mental shrug) before replying, "Ach, weeell, ye're prob'ly right. 'Ere, have yerself a flagon. Ye said yer name was Grenep, nae?" "I be Caith Crunnelon, o' the clan MacCailain. Ye ha'e me apology fer bein' so short wit' ye earlier; 'tis considered very bad manners where I be from tae touch someone wit'out their consent. But there be nae way fer ye tae know tha', as ye've ne'er been tae me homeland--most likely, anyway. Sae, please accept me apology, eh?"
Caith, after staring about himself in blank amazement as he wanders through the town, settles down to a giant meal of boar and cheese at the inn. He pulls a metal-sheathed jug--that looks to hold about a gallon--from his outsized pack and sets it on the table as he produces two earthenware flagons from the same place. Pouring himself a large flagon of what appears to be a black-colored beverage of some sort, he looks around the table and asks, "Any o' ye want a taste o' real ale? Blessed it meself, I did. Ye won't be findin' anythin' like it anywheres else, tha' be fer sure."
"Aye! An' ye'll ha'e me axe a' yer side, tae! Come, we c'n share a toast!" he agrees heartily.
Caith simply raises one bushy eyebrow at the byplay between what appears to be a stupid orc and a wolf. He shrugs, dismissing the oddity from the forefront of his mind, and follows Gunny, taking in the sights as he goes.
"Well, th' Dwarffather teaches us tha' there be only one way tae treat each other, an' tha' be with respect. I don' see any problem with yer rules, an' I'd be happy tae see either th' sick-hall or yer engineer. I'd be glad tae take a look-see at yer mines, too--tho' I be not tae keen on meetin' a dragon," Caith replies. Caith thinks to himself, I wonder what be goin' on here. 'Tis nae normal town, that be fer sure.
Caith nods solemnly in greeting, replying, "Caith Crunnelon, o' th' clan MacCailain, a' yer service. Th' Dwarffather keep ye well." "Ye mention odd laws. Wha' be they?" Caith observes this newcomer with suspicion ; something seems to be not quite right here.
As the half-orc reaches out to touch his head, Caith's knuckles tighten on the haft of his axe. Before he has a chance to draw it, the badger begins to growl. His eyes go dark as the hulking creature gabbles something in orcish to its pet. Only after the badger backs off, apparently in response to the orc's commands, does his expression lighten and his grip on the axe loosen somewhat. He steps as gracefully as possible away from the badger and eyes the orc balefully as he says in the common tongue, "Laddy, ye best be keepin' th' durned critter off'n me heels. Don' be goin' tae touch me wit'out me consent 'gain, neither. Where I be from, tha' be considered reason fer a fight. I got nothin' 'gainst ye yet, 'side from one o' yer folks bein' an orc, but tha' can change, easy-like."
"Aye, 'tis tae be hoped tha' th' durned thin' 's easy tae find. 'Twouldnae be in our employer's best interest if'n it wasnae distin'tive. Ach, let's hope sae, a'least..." Caith replies. He continues on, searching about with his keen eyes for any distinctive ships.
"Ah, weeell, there be no sense in waitin' 'ere. Ye comin' 'long, 'r ye gonna sit here an' watch th' trees like a buncha daft fools?" Caith continues in the common tongue. Not known for his great patience, the dwarf continues stumping along the path ahead...
Shrugging, Caith adjusts the pack over his shoulders and ensures that his axe is loose in its sheath before following the "wealth redistributor" (because the word "thief" is so...um...unimaginitive) through the gates. He glances around him as he stumps his way down the road, taking in the sights and sounds of the new city. He sighs and mutters (in Dwarven), "There be somethin' not right 'bout this. Th'gates bein' open, I could see tha'. No guards, though...hrmph..."
...Bows to the dwarf an honor, brother. I hope our journeys together fund many temples to your dwarf-father. By Cuthbert, what a fine bunch of fellows we have here! Now then, whats this about a letter? A boat...? "Aye, yer faith sure'n'true is a strong one, me friend. Why, me experience wit' Cuthbert hae been a good one; His faithful're a stout bunch--good in a fight, if'n I'm any judge! Me axe an' yer sword'll keep th' road ahead clear! Come on over, brother, an' share some o' this blessed ale as ye tell me o' th' letter ye speak o'..."
Well, that's sort of the direction that I was thinking in. It's always possible that Alvartus is more interested in using Caith's faith to gain his trust and help than actually converting, too... ...Also, what's our normal marching order going to be? Caith would probably be best placed third in line or second-to-last in line: he should be towards the center for his healing abilities to be available to everyone; however, he also has darkvision, which means that he should be closer to the edge of the party to take advantage of his ability to see in darkness. Also, he's pretty tough for a priest. Just my thoughts on the matter
"T'would seem best to divide equally amon' us. "After all, if'n ye hae need o' somethin', it's oft best--in me experience, at least--to ask afore takin' it. "'Tis what The Dwarffather teaches us, as well. Ye won' see me goin' 'gainst His will, that be fer sure an' true..." Caith chimes in.
--John Almond |