Aaron approached the maps and looked at them with a critical eye.
'Salt' Leadbeard wrote:
He grabs the attention of a less busy sailor. 'Might I have a word with our cook for the voyage? Probably down in the galley, I'd imagine?'
The sailor looked at Salt as if he were crazy."The cook? Yeah, he's up forward in the Galley. Focsle down one." He gestured vaguely towards the bow before putting his back into grabbing a line and hauling more sail aloft.
"Yeah, there is a whole network of neighbors will see that the food is distributed fairly. We'll ditch the cart here too. They'll take it apart and use it for firewood." He said you you quietly.
The adults pause momentarily to thank you all, and their gratitude for the party’s courage and generosity is evident.
"Alright. Now lets get to Mortin and get your papers."
Ringeirr turns pale and frantically motions for you all to step out of the creature’s line of sight.
He trundled over to the big yelling guy after the guards were gone. "Hey..."
Is all Zakgrob is able to get out when the big guy lets out a girly shriek and jumped up on the capstan."It's a Goblin! Get it! Get it! Look fer the others! There's always more!" He shrieked out in a panic. "Get the torches! We'll burn 'em out!"
You aren't sure what the guards told the big guy, but you could sure hear him.
"Wait. Wait!" Said Reingeirr, waiving his hands as he looked around frantically.
The next day dawns.
"Hey my stuff!" Exclaimed Ringeirr as he pulled out a set of masterwork leather armor (with glamour), a couple of daggers, a masterwork sap, and a belt pouch.
"Ringeirr, you don't happen to have any javelins lying around we could use?"
Ringeirr shook his head."Nope. No javelins. Got a harpoon or two you can have though."
Ringeirr shook his head.
Ten Penny wrote:
What I do mind, however, is entering the city without a back-up plan.
"Well Miss High and Mighty, what is YOUR ingenious plan to get into a city guarded by high walls, Winter Witches and Winter Werewolves? I've been in and out dozens of times and MY way WORKS!" Ringeirr snapped with irritation.
Ten Penny wrote:
When Ten-Penny tries to forge identity papers for the city using one of Ringeirr's.
"Hunh. Yer... not bad lassie. Maybe even better than me. Still only good enough for slave status, but now I don't have ta do 'em!"
Say Ringeir, what about familiars and other agents of the queen? Is there anything we should be paying extra attention to?
"Hm. Can't say I'm familiar with that kind of thing. If'n anything needs hunting down, they usually use their were winter worgs."
Ringeirr sat and stared at you for what felt like a long time. Then he seemed to come to a decision. He glanced over to Nadya, who nodded encouragement.
"I had a wife and child once. After they... died, I was lost for a long time. I don't remember how long; years at least just fishing and selling my catch."
When Ringeirr returned, in fresh clothing though still limping, he sat down with a sigh and a grimace.
After consulting with the command team, Sir Aron quickly sketches out a plan for Arthas.
How are we matched as ranged opponents? If we control the cliffs can we rain death down on them?"
Sir Aron Kir shook his head."Aside from a few Elven Knights and Knight/Rangers, we are woefully lacking in ranged firepower."
He pointed out on a hastily drawn military map of the area.
He nods to the driver, "No matter, we can go on foot from here. You'll wait here for us for the return trip?"
The driver tugged at his cap."Yessir. I'll just unhitch the team an' turn the coach about right here. Do ye know how long ye goin' ta be? It's gettin' ta be sunset right now."
Lazne chortled at Ereviss.
Lazne took the pipe from his mouth and looked at you with cynical amusement.
The man scowled at Rhia suspiciously.
He seems to respond more easily to Ereviss and banters back and forth about local gossip. Eventually, Ereviss drew the story of the Beast's depredations from him.
Lazne is a grizzled, middle-aged man with dirty gray hair and skin the color of swamp mud. He chews on a foul-smelling swamp weed and punctuates most of his sentences by spitting weed-juice onto the ground.
At this point, everyone freezes as Grayst gave a shriek.
Alarmed at Korbin's beard, Ibor backed up against his cell wall.
Knowledge:Nobility DC12 or Knowledge:Local DC16:
—there are rumors that they’re responsible for burning several competing grain mills in the region, after all.
"I wouldn’t put it past the Scarnettis to hire someone to kill Harker if they found out somehow he’d been embezzling their money."
Ibor sighed heavily.
Sense Motive DC20:
You have a feeling that Ibor’s holding something back.