Marcellus's page

Marcellus comes down well rested and dressed in the best he has. His peace-bonded greatsword is slung over his shoulder - he figures its better to take it and have someone say something to him, rather than leave it and end up unnecessarily unarmed.

"So, no shrieking ghosts last night, eh? That's great. I guess now we're worthy of the town's thanks we received yesterday."

Marcellus leans in closer to Laryndis and asks quietly, "Some folks around here seem to have connected this Green Wizard with a spellguard who passed through. I wonder if there could be a connection?"

Marcellus pauses to join in a rousing cheer for Xendril.

Marcellus takes a third of his ale in one deep swig to wash down a mouthful of ribs. He nods to the stage as he asks Talia, "Is it the singing or the food - that grimace? Come on, he's pretty good. He should definitely fly around the room while he sings, though. That would completely floor them."

"I'm humbled by the offer and gladly accept."

Marcellus wonders idly if he needs to find a tailor in this town.

Marcellus removes his hat and wipes his brow. He looks around the rich taproom and nods approvingly, a wide and growing smile on his face. I bet this place has good beer he thinks to himself, and the question stands in his eyes. That was a long, cold road.

As he wanders around the room with his gaze, he keeps his ears focused on Laryndis and his answers. The sorcerer and the bard have such a nice way with words, it would be a shame to spoil the conversation with his unlovely voice.

Marcellus regards his white-haired guide with a touch of suspicion. "What's her agenda?", he suddenly wonders.

"A halfling with a wagon brought me here. That and the smell of trouble, I guess. I seem to have a nose for that. Following it is apparently a subconscious thing for me. Someone once told me to always follow my nose, but now that I think on it, he may not have known me very well."

"What about you? Is this your home? If so, can you tell us if your local haunt is this thing we've slain? And who is this man you're leading us to? A civil authority? Military? A religious man?"

Marcellus offers his hand to both the informative guard and the departing orc priest. "Good luck my friend, and thanks for the healing touch."

He looks back towards Myril's shop somewhat regretfully as he follows his friends out of the plaza. He mumbles to Armaros

"Hopefully another shop of curios will turn up somewhere in this town. I doubt we'll be getting very good prices from him unless we con him somehow."

Marcellus crosses his arms and retreats a bit, content to let the sorcerer confront this particular challenge. The charlatan's words strike a little close to home where he is concerned. He scans the crowd for any potential threats to his flying friend.

He mumbles to Azuma, "They speak of this ghost in the singular. I sure hope we really got this 'shrieking ghost' of theirs, and not something else. If this ghost does make an appearance tonight, we're going to look as much like charlatans as that guy now does."

If needed, I rolled a nat 20 on my spot check. That gives me a total of... 20.

"What a magnificent town this is. Your 'screaming ghosts' were a true terror to behold. They fairly froze the blood in my veins. But they did seem to die just like any other terror of the wood. They sort-of collapsed in a heap of ash."

"Have you been having trouble with a wizard? What more can you tell us of him?"

"Well met Harmen, I think your suggestion has merit. Do you know of this town? What is this peacebonding that they speak of?"

Ah... I am not known for my wisdom. Total is 4.

Marcellus is sure his halfling guide knows what he's talking about.

"My thanks. The wound no longer troubles me at all." He pushes a finger trough the tear in the shoulder of his outer coat and makes a mournful expression.

"If we're close enough to hear the church bells, I wonder if the town is also having troubles with devils such as these? Perhaps we should hurry."

Marcellus sheathes his blade and climbs back onto the wagon.

Marcellus offers the halfling a hand up, then examines his blade for any remains of his enemies.

"Does anyone know what in the hells those things were?"

"Nice kill, friend!"

Marcellus takes advantage of the remaining beast's fascination with Azuma. He advances, greatsword swinging in a deadly arc. Attack roll 14 + 5 = 19 total. If that hits, 6 + 4 = 10 damage.

Well, it looks like I won initiative, so I'm guessing it's my turn. Marcellus shouts his war cry and moves to attack the flying head that bit him. The ringing in his ears has apparently affected him more than it seemed at first, for he misses badly.

Rolled a natural 1. So maybe now's a good time to talk about your fumble rules? If there's a logical 5' step I can take that makes flanking me difficult, I would now take that step.

*Takes change out of left pocket and switches it to right*

Marcellus winces at the sharp pain of the bite and struggles to free himself from the fiend's jaws. First Fort save is 15. Second Fort save is 19.

Then Marcellus would like to take that move action if possible to step down and draw his weapon. He's standing right next to the wagon in case Faz decides to bolt.

EDIT: If necessary, my spot check is 11.

My initiative is 11.

Marcellus sits up at the sound of the wail and reaches over to grab his greatsword.

Looping the weapon over a shoulder he mumbles, "I think I agree with the horses. That didn't sound natural."

He tries to position himself to make it easy to jump from the wagon and confront whatever made that noise - assuming the driver looks like he's going to stop. He's taking his cue from the driver.

By the time the sounds of the day's first wagon are audible behind him, Marcellus has been walking for several hours and his feet are sore. The stable man at Enn Korin drove a hard bargain for his stock - too hard for Marcellus's meager money purse. He turns to meet the sound of the vehicle coming up behind, hand outstretched in the universal sign of 'anywhere to sit would be appreciated'.