Sorry guys, I'm going to have to bow out of this game.
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Journey:
Renald spends most of the journey on the deck of the ship, jotting down notes about the behavior and flavor of the seagulls Crookbeak catches. Renald spends the entire diplomatic situation silently standing in the back of the party and staring pointedly at the ground, his whole body tense. He mutters a quiet "G'night." as the Hellknight leaves. He waits for the knight to be well out of sight before relaxing and letting out a heavy sigh of relief. "Well, that was awful. So, it seems we're expected to sleep not far from a Hellknight and fistful of Chelish soldiers. I call dibs on the grass pile furthest from those guys!"
Sorry for the delay! I'll be able to post more frequently now.
Renald shuffles into the room with Gabriela, and savagely gnaws on the bacon he was given. He waits for Simeon to finish talking before speaking up himself. "Well, if you want to get technical, the Badger Lord never actually claimed to be a badger. It could be some kind of super-advanced creature ruling over badgers and badger related things, like a dragon lording over kobolds." Renald pauses to swallow the chunk of bacon in his throat before continuing. "So. I know Cheliax isn't a very nice place for guys like me. Or anyone, really, but especially tieflings. But exactly how bad are we talking here? 'Unpleasant discrimination' bad or 'public lynching' bad?"
The sunlight beams into the stables, illuminating the crooked form of Renald lying sprawled on a bale of hay. The tiefling stirs a bit, but refused to wake up. It is only his familiar pecking at his skull that manages to wake him. "Ugh, dammit, Crookbeak," the teifling says while swatting in the hawk's general direction. "I'm up, I'm up!" The wizard stretches his overlong arms and yawns, before his eyes drift towards the note and potion. He grabs his spellbook, stows the potion in his pocket, and gives the letter a thorough read. Excellent! Another mission from my favorite Badger Lord. Who may or may not be the only Badger Lord. His joy is dampened a bit when his eyes glance over where they were to meet. Oh boy. They're not big on tieflings in Cheliax. This is going to be...interesting. Shrugging, he shoves the letter into his spellbook with the other letters he had recieved. He whistles for Crookbeak to perch on his shoulder, and walks into into the inn's common room, his hair still tangled with hay.
Finally here! Honestly, the origin story reminds me of the classic stories, like Eric and the Gazebo. |