Nante will follow Krissina to the tavern.
Search Posts
Nante gives a reserved nod. He still finds Hemlock's abandonment of tradition disquieting, but protecting the town is more important right now.
Nante follows the others to Hemlock's office, wondering if he's still angry.
"Indeed," says Nante, vaulting from the walkway to the ground next to Krissina. "Let us find your parents, young ones."
Nante fires an arrow at the goblin next to Varian
Nante nocks another arrow and aims at . He fires.
Nante growls as he watches his arrow hit the sand near the goblin.
Nante and nocks an arrow he then fires at the goblin
Nante claps Varian on the shoulder. "A fine attempt, my friend, but you must give them a reason." He cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, "People of Sandpoint! You are strong! You are fierce! Just yesterday, you drove a pack of goblins off a cliff! They fear you! Would you now flee from creatures you know to be weaklings and cowards? Would you now abandon your home? When your heroes stand ready to aid you in their annihilation? Will not one among your number stand with us?"
"Yes, wanton goblin-slaughter suits my black mood," says Nante, suddenly coming out of his funk. He follows Krissina and the others.
Nante grunts his disapproval, but goes with Krissina in silence.
GM:
"How can I not?" says Nante, trembling with outrage. He begins to shout in Shoanti. "You cover your tattoo as if it is shameful, you mock our traditions as those of primitives... I am an exile, Hemlock! My skin is bare, like that of a child! Yet of the two of us, I am the truer Shoanti! Tell me why, in our tongue, the language of our people, why this should be!"
Nante sneers. "Or have you been so long among the outsiders that you forget the words?"
GM: Nante stiffens for a moment, the many questions swirling around inside his head now stuck in his throat. But the moment passes, and he asks what he has wanted to ask since Hemlock took the stage at the opening ceremony. "You are Shoanti. You've a given name and a tattoo. Why, then, do you not wear them with pride?"
GM: "Tickwood," says Nante, fingernails digging into his palm for a moment. "Noted."
His eyes drop to Hemlock's wrist, as they have several times during the discussion...
"Foxglove will know more of the hauntings, Varian," says Nante. "But that can wait, I think. The goblins are our most pressing concern."
GM: "Behaving himself?" Nante raises an eyebrow. "You make it sound as if there was a time when he was not 'behaving himself.' Was there?"
GM: "You sound unconvinced," says Nante, folding his arms. "Odd. Varisia is full of wayward spirits. You know this as well as I."
Ezekiel Tobyn and Nualia, thinks Nante, committing the names to memory. "Zantus' mentor, eh? And the fire started just as Zantus was about to deliver his sermon..." He begins to nibble his lip, as he often does when deep in thought. After a moment, he says, "You know Zantus best, Jovalson. Perhaps it is you who should ask him for more information. Or we could do so together."
Nante's eyes align with Hemlock's again. "I have other questions. First, what do you know of Aldern Foxglove?"
Nante clears his throat. "In your speech yesterday, you mentioned a fire at the church some time ago." He strokes his chin absently. "I cannot explain why, but the fire and the goblin attack seem to me connected. Can you tell us more of this fire?"
Nante shrugs and dips his bread in the delicious red sauce. "A Chelish dog with his back to me, on the other hand? That, I can abide." He bites into the bread, then motions with his fingers. "Pass the lamb, would you?"
Nante sets his fork down pointedly, radiating concern. "I would accompany you as well, Krissina. As I said yesterday, just because the Chelish dog can fight does not mean I would walk with my back to him."
"A fine speech, Varian," says Nante, startling the the half-elf and Krissina. Striding into the kitchen, he claps Varian on the shoulder. "And wiser than you know."
With a sharp intake of breath, Nante's flutter open. His heart is thumping, and he is covered in cold sweat. He is momentarily puzzled as to his surroundings, and then the events of the previous day wash over him like the river where— Ah, he thinks, that dream. The night saw the reoccurence of a nightmare he'd not had in ages. There was something different about this one, though. The goblins were not so jovial as they cut him, and one of them had a noose tied around his neck, and they seemed... organized... He shakes his head, and the details of the dream recede like the tide. [b]"Just an old nightmare,"[/i] he says, unsure if he is stating a fact or trying to convince himself. He dresses...
Nante takes the room key with a smile. "Killing goblins is always a distinct pleasure." After a moment, he sighs. "Though I am somewhat disappointed. I attended the Swallowtail Festival to relax. Wanton goblin slaughter, enjoyable though it may be, is also something I am called upon to do quite often in my line of work. I came here to feast and fish and make merry. One more thing the goblins have taken from me, I suppose..." He smiles. "But enough navel-gazing! I thank you, Ameiko, truly."
If the Chelaxian disapproves, so much the better, thinks Nante, a wry smile briefly crossing his face. He follows Krissina to the Rusty Dragon.
Nante narrows his eyes at Foxglove. He dislikes the way the man leers at Krissina, but more than that, there is something off about the man. He seems almost... too grateful.
But perhaps he is being too paranoid. Foxglove seems nice enough, and Nante has done business with scoundrels as good as their word before. He notes his suspicion and moves on.
Nante grunts. "You are right. Let us find Hemlock and see what he requires." He follows the group
"That is quite enough, Chelaxian," says Nante, stepping between Karl and Krissina. "I'll not sit idly by while you harass my friend. Your skills in combat are formidable, so I will tolerate your presence for the moment." His eyes narrow. "But I do not fear you, Sarvo, be assured of that." The threat is implicit, but no less real for it.
Nante looses an arrow aimed at goblin . "Die, monster!" he shouts.
"Thank you, friend," says Nante, who draws his bow, nocks an arrow, and fires an arrow at the goblin commando .
Nante, running toward the noise along with the others, is moved by Krissina's words. "I understand your pain, Krissina! Goblins killed... killed me, when I was a boy." Nante regrets the confession immediately. "But this is neither the time nor the place! I will say more later, when respite is ours."
"Well met, Jovalson. I too worship mighty Desna, and I too have heard her laughter."
Nante puts his bow away and lets out a breath he he isn't aware he's been holding. "Well," he says, "That was troubling." A thought occurs to him, and he vocalizes it. "I know the Chelaxian and Krissina, but who are the rest of you people? It seems we work well together." He dismounts the stage.
Nante fires an arrow at the rapidly retreating goblin, shouting "You infernal vermin ruined my holiday!"
|