Ahto narrowly avoids the dragon-man's blade, and lays into it with both fists.
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Ahto attacks again with his bare hands.
Ahto drops his crossbow , and immediately falls into a boxing stance. He launches at flurry of blows at the dragon-man who attacked him.
"I'm a hired guard. I'm doing my job," Ahto answers, his tone frosty. "If you're not a brigand, my presence shouldn't concern you."
Ahto stands with his crossbow cocked and loaded, with a posture clearly intended to convey a willingness and readiness to fight, if threatened. As long as they know I'll do my job if they bother us, that's good enough. Hopefully these moralizing busybodies have urgent business to go and preach to someone other than us!
More Seekers, Ahto grumbles silently. How can an entire organization be made up entirely of insufferable busybodies?? Ahto stands near Varis, cocked and loaded crossbow in hand, acting like a paid guard. He, too, stands between the bothersome priests and his companions.
Ahto stands to the outer edge of the group, carrying himself as if he were a hired guard, crossbow cocked and loaded, but pointed downwards instead of at the approaching priests.
"If we can see them, they can see us," Ahto says. "If we suddenly change our course now, we're going to draw their attention. These Seekers are as suspicious and relentless as the goblins. Maybe if we stop now, act like we're arguing over directions, and then head off, we'll be overlooked. Maybe..."
Ahto nods and follows. He keeps his crossbow in hand, cocked and loaded.
"Let's get movin' before we wear out our welcome," Ahto says. "Or the Old Gods decide to send a swarm of hornets to chase us all the way to Xak Tsaroth."
"You have been a most gracious host, Forestmaster," Ahto says in Dwarvish, bowing deeply at the waist to the unicorn. "May your forge burn ever bright."
"Beautiful? Ha! I guess it's reassuring to know that the winged monster that'll likely tear us limb from limb'n eat us is beautiful," Ahto says to no one in particular. He finishes the last of his breakfast, shoulders his pack, and waits patiently for the rest of the part to finish.
Once the centaurs have finished setting the table and laying out the breakfast provisions, Ahto holsters and sheaths his weapons, and makes his way over to the table. "MMmmmm; it smells great. Thanks again for your hospitality," he says to the Forestmaster (if present), and to the centaurs. He nods his head respectfully to all, giving the deeper nod to the Forestmaster (of present). Assuming no one objects, he takes a seat at the table.
Ahto rises early and packs his gear. As he waits for the rest of the group to wake, he spends his time cleaning his armor and weapons. Unsure if their host will provide breakfast, he refrains from eating until it is clear one way or the other.
"If the gods have returned, and they're steering us towards Xak Tsaroth, it's probably because they need soldiers, and we just happen to the first batch of conscripts. And everyone knows, once you've been drafted, your choices are to fight, die, or desert; and with that third one, you're as likely as not to end up dead anyway. So, you form up in ranks on the field with the weapons and armor you're given, and face whatever enemy stands across from you. If our foe is a dragon, and what we have to fight with is what we have, then I guess that's how it's going to be. If there's any luck or divine intervention to be had, hopefully it'll reach us before it's too late." Ahto shrugs, as if the comment were merely his own private thoughts running through his head, rather than being spoken aloud. He takes a sip of his drink, then resumes eating.
"Of course there will be," Ahto grumbles, adding another sigh. His tone would make it easy for one mistake him for a surly dwarf if he wasn't sitting there in plain sight.
Ahto sighs in resignation. "It figures," he mutters. "At least we'll have full stomachs and a good night's sleep before we go."
”No sense letting it go to waste,” Ahto mutters quietly as he claims a couple large slices.
"Thank you!" Ahto says enthusiastically, giving a grateful nod. He takes a seat at the table, savoring the smell of the roast venison. He starts to reach for it, then stops, unsure of the appropriate table manners for such an unusual setting.
Ahto follows as instructed, glad to leave the un-killable ghost guardians of the forest behind them.
Ahto sizes up the centaurs, looking for indications of deception in their stance, as well as the speaker's voice.
Ahto hurries along with the group, but keeps his crossbow loaded and in-hand, in case of trouble.
"Anyone know how to fight ghosts?" Ahto asks, as he moves to interpose himself between Goldmoon and the approaching spirits. He points his crossbow at them, not knowing what else to do.
"I know some tricks," Ahto says. "Go on ahead."
Once they are in the woods and out of sight of the goblins, Ahto turns and looks at the path identified by Riverwind.
”At least we’re on a clear path, that’s a bit of luck finally,” he grumbles. ”I dropped a whole bag of caltrops behind us, and not one goblin got its foot punctured. Wasted.”
Ahto pulls his bag of caltrops out of his pouch, and scatters them on the ground behind the group as they flee towards the Darken Wood.
Ahto nods his head for the group to move, and then takes up a position at the rear near Varis , crossbow at the ready.
Ahto motions to the group and silently gestures for them to stop talking and silently mouths the word goblins and points his crossbow in their direction. He then nods toward the other side of the Glen and starts moving that way.
"Well, if the Old Gods are intent on returning, it'd be nice of them to point us in the right direction, especially if they want our help," Ahto mutters, as he continues to scan the tree line for trouble. He unshoulders his crossbow, cocks and loads it with a bolt.
"Anywhere the goblins aren't likely to follow would be a good choice, at this point."
Ahto stands watch while the group speaks, but listens to their conversation.
"The main roads will be watched. We need to either cut through the woods, or else find a boat and cross the lake," Ahto suggests.
Ahto moves with the others, but keeps an eye out for trouble.
Once the ladder clears, Ahto opts to do a quick, hands only descent, so as to clear it as quickly as possible for the next person.
Ahto looks around the back exit of the inn for a ladder, a rope, or a set of sturdy branches that would provide a way down from the massive tree. Tika said we needed to climb...
Ahto tucks the note in his pouch, and heads for the back door.
Ahto nods and starts rifling through the goblins belt pouches and bandoliers for anything resembling paper with writing, or just valuable.
Ahto ducks the goblin's strike, just barely, and renews his assault.
Seeing that the tavern brawl was now full-on combat, Ahto decides to no longer pull his punches. He begins aiming for the liver, kidneys, temples, and throats of the goblins.
Ahto continues to rain fists of fury upon the goblin.
My two cents: If Varis would strike to kill in this situation, go for it.
Ahto suppresses the urge to draw his weapons and slaughter the goblins. While he knows they deserve it, the consequences to the innkeeper and the people of Solace would be dire. He moves forward, fists raised, and wades into the goblins.
And here we go... Ahto thinks, as he sees the minotaur move to engage the goblins.
Ahto flings his tankard in a vicious side-arm throw at the nearest goblin
"These are the same ones who bothered us earlier today, just without their boss," Ahto mutters under his breath to the others.
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