Regariel of Greengold's page

Regariel's keen ears have no trouble picking up the pertinent details of Sparrow and Markon's discussion. As he listens, he feels torn between frustration and sympathy. He certainly can't wish for Bort to take a turn for the worse, not after fighting so hard to save the dwarf's life, but he too has a pressing duty, delayed by their journey's interruption. A duty to his great uncle Iznarael, and hopefully, hopefully to his cousin Isandlara.

"You have spent too much time among the transient races, Regariel." He can hear his uncle's dry, crisp tones in memory. "Isa may need finding, but I doubt she needs rescuing. Take whatever time you need to attend to your task with a clear head."

Of course, unlike Sparrow and Markon, he can in theory fit all his belongings into his pack and strike out on his own for Almas, and from there to Absalom.

In theory.

Bort's unchanged condition and Tamli's concern put any such ideas well on hold. At the dinner table, Reg drops into the chair opposite Sparrow's with a sigh of his own. For a 'podunk town,' Etran's Folly seems to have more than its share of odd goings-on.

"So," he says to his companions, "what shall we try next? We seem to have a dearth of threads leading back to 'V' and whatever vile plans they literally have brewing."

He rubs the bridge of his nose, trying to tweeze ideas out of a very tired brain. "Hallod dead, Bort incapacitated ... if we could somehow find out what reagents the brute purchased on V's behalf aside from the corpse blood, we might be able to work out what they plan to do with them. Aside from that, I'm open to suggestions."

Regariel slips the copper ring on, then touches the runestone of stealth attached to one pauldron of his armor.

"Lilita should undoubtedly be the one to speak with the mother, if we are to mount a distraction." He extends a hand for the package. "I am willing to take the swords to the daughter while she does so."

Hefting the burlap-wrapped blades, Reg moves behind a tree that still allows line-of-sight on the woman tending her garden, then waits for Lilita to fully engage her attention before attempting his covert approach.

Stealth: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21

As he watches this reconciliation between the quick and the dead, Regariel draws a deep breath and releases it slowly and softly. Relief that the danger is over and the satisfaction of a puzzle solved, certainly, but he feels a deeper relief and satisfaction that these two souls now have a chance to find the solace and grace they lost so brutally.

Reg leans toward Lilita. "Well done," he says quietly.

(looks at the 0's for Reg's diplo & intimidate scores) Welp, we can but try.

Diplomacy (we hope): 1d20 ⇒ 18

Regariel stands, displaying the holy ornament in his hand to whoever is looking. Which is not Krent at the moment, but hopefully that will change shortly.

"Your old friend wants only the return of his winged sword, Mr. Krent," he says, his tone calm and contained. "Please tell us how you acquired it, and help us determine how to put Talmore's poor shade to rest."

Though not fully recovered from the specter's unnerving howl, Reg feels his hammering heartrate gradually slowing, the tremors in his ready-for-flight muscles starting to ease. He stands poised, sword at the ready to follow up an attack that doesn't happen. When Lilita chooses to talk instead of fight, Reg returns to observation mode, tracking the ghost's gaze, watching its gestures. The Iomedan pendant ... Krent ... the revenant's earlier cry of Thief ...

Regariel edges over to the pack that caught his attention earlier, trying to avoid diverting the ghost's attention away from Lilita. He kneels beside it, looking for that metal glint that (he hopes) may have something to do with the creature's binding.

Stealth: 1d20 + 6 - 1 ⇒ (15) + 6 - 1 = 20

Perception: 1d20 + 7 - 1 ⇒ (15) + 7 - 1 = 21

Religion: 1d20 + 1 - 1 ⇒ (15) + 1 - 1 = 15

Knowing things is not a panacea, unfortunately. Regariel knows perfectly well that the spectral power of the ghost's cry triggered the fear twisting his gut, but that comprehension does nothing to dissipate the emotion. Nevertheless, he also knows he must do what he can to aid his companions.

Reg clenches his teeth, closes the gap between himself and the Sparrow-focused apparition, examines its movement and condition, and swings.

Devise a Strategem, Frightened 2: 1d20 + 4 - 2 ⇒ (14) + 4 - 2 = 16

Reg's Will save: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (7) + 8 = 15

The howl also chills Regariel's heart; he shudders and takes a step back, fighting the impulse to flee.

Right, ignore the previous post; someone is still Sussing Out The Rules. u___u

Regariel draws his blade as soon as the apparition appears, but his eyes widen when Markon's ferocious attack has so little effect on the ghost. If the fighter-slash-rogue couldn't do serious damage, Reg and his short sword likely won't fare any better. But there is another who may have a different sort of influence on 'Talmore,' if this is indeed him...

"Lilita," he leans forward to murmur to the young woman, "perhaps you should talk to him. As one Iomedan to another, yes? You may be able to find out what he wants, what keeps him here ... or at least distract him for a bit."

With that, Reg keeps his sword at the ready and examines their opponent. He wants to go investigate that pack and the metal object it holds, but best to deal with the situation at hand first. He casts back into his memory, dredging up everything he can recall about ghosts and how to deal with them...

Dig deep, Reg: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (13) + 8 = 21

Still focused on the specter, the elf moves to a flanking position on the end of the bed in an effort both to support Markon and leave an opening for Lilita, should the swordswoman decide to act instead of talk.

Regariel draws his blade as soon as the apparition appears, but his eyes widen when Markon's ferocious attack has so little effect on the ghost. If the fighter-slash-rogue couldn't do serious damage, Reg and his short sword likely won't fare any better. But there is another who may have a different sort of influence on 'Talmore,' if this is indeed him...

"Lilita," he leans forward to murmur to the young woman, "perhaps you should talk to him. As one Iomedan to another, yes? You may be able to find out what he wants, what keeps him here ... or at least distract him for a bit."

With that, he keeps his sword at the ready and examines their opponent. He wants to go investigate that pack and the metal object it holds, but best to deal with the situation at hand first.

Reg will use his final action to Pursue a Lead, preparatory to Devising a Strategem or making a Perception or Occult check next round. Hopefully he'll still have a chance...

The lack of result from his spell indeed does not surprise Regariel, but it does let him tick off one possible alternate cause for Krent's haunting. He divides his attention between listening to the conversation and noting the details of the man's emotional state.

"I recommend giving the house a once over," he says, keeping his voice low. "Whether we find a ghost, something other than a ghost, or nothing at all, the information may be a part of our larger puzzle. At the least it may help us get sense out of any subsequent conversation." He tilts his head briefly in Krent's direction.

Reg's Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14

Regariel continues to watch and listen, silent and attentive. Was this the source of Krent's extreme reaction to Lilita last night at the inn -- he thought he'd seen a ghost? Or at least had some unpleasant memories stirred up by the sight of Lita's acolyte garb. Does his reference to Iomedae mean that he and this Talmore also served the Inheritor once?

And what happened to this 'old friend,' that Krent thinks he's actually haunted?

For that matter, is he actually haunted?

Looking thoughtful, he glances toward the house they were approaching and attempts to detect magic.

No idea if our little band is within 30 feet of their destination, but what the hey!

Regariel takes a step forward, ready to catch Krent if the man takes a drunken tumble. Otherwise he does and says nothing to interrupt his conversation with Lilita. Reg stays alert, watching and listening for more information, more pieces to the strange puzzle they need to assemble.

Regariel's check on Bort leaves him almost as concerned about Cookie as he is about his patient, especially after Tamri confides her own worry about the elderly elf's lack of rest. He wonders if he should offer to look after Bort for a while, though he's not sure how well that would go over, given Cookie's refusal of help from people he's known much longer.

Regardless, he has other things to deal with today. All through lunch he mentally sifts through events, not only since their arrival in Etran's Folly, but back to when he joined the caravan. He maps people, things and places in his mind, seeking connections, seeking suspects, seeking answers.

Reg pulls himself back to the present as he joins his companions for their walk to Krent's home. When Lita suggests that he take the point man's position, he blinks, then nods agreement, secretly pleased to have this skill recognized after some of his more embarrassing moments yesterday. "I'm willing if you all are," he replies. "We haven't exactly had the best of luck paying visits in this area."

And so Reg will spend the time walking to Krent's scanning their path and surroundings, looking and listening for anything out of the ordinary.

Regariel's gaze flicks upward at the jovial ribaldry that wafts down the stairs. His lips curl up in amusement, but he says only, "He sounds fully recovered at least," as he finishes folding his newly-restored clothing.

"I'd say you're absolutely correct." Reg's intent gaze returns to his companions as he sets the garments to one side. "Today has provided ample evidence of the advantages in working together. None of us alone could have survived the hazards we've faced since this morning."

He turns to the young initiate. "What do you think, Lilita? You saw this Krent more closely than the rest of us. Does he seem a likely thread to follow?"

I assume Reg also got back the 4hp he lost to those vicious geese.

Regariel comes down to the common room a bit later than Lilita, having taken a few minutes to check on Bort. Reg looks quite neatly turned out, bathed and wearing his clean best again; to look at him you'd never suspect what he went through with his companions yesterday. Though you'd likely get a clue when he produces his garb from yesterday, smudged with mud, grease, blood, and unmentionable things that geese emit.

"Might I trouble you, Mr. Sparrow?", he murmurs. If it wouldn't be an imposition..."

He obtains a cup of tea and brings it back to the table. "I fully agree with you on the merits of cleanliness, Lilita. And one can best keep the mind clear and focused when the body is also in good order."

After a slow sip of tea, Reg turns to his companions, focused and intent. "Any ideas where our investigation should go next? If you are inclined to continue, of course. I am, not least because we have likely come to this V person's negative attention ourselves."

Reg will also wait a bit for a full bath, but he sighs in relief as he washes the mud from his face and hands and trades off for clean clothes. Much better. He returns to the common room, listens to Lita's talespinning, and sips tea in a cheerful mood.

"We worked together well today, didn't we."

Reg offers a smile and nod of agreement to Sparrow, Markon and Lilita. It may be a touch awkward, as he often can be, but also clearly sincere.

He is equally sincere when he joins Sparrow in reassuring Tamli. "As the twins pointed out, we couldn't get through half of the boar on our own. You're quite welcome to share."

After dinner Reg lingers downstairs for a bit, idly watching the dicing and sipping wine instead of tea. His mood turns pensive as his mind chews at the puzzle still in front of them. Who is V? Will they make another attempt on Bort's life? Someone else's? Hallod had apparently been inflating Bort's prices for his own profit; would V have been motivated to murder had he not done so? Rather a moot point now, but still... What 'work' is V so close to completing, and why does it require corpse blood of all things? Is V one of the villagers, someone they've already met?

Perhaps someone in the room right now?

Eventually Regariel's thoughts tire of chasing themselves in a circle. He retires to his room after bidding everyone a good evening, and eventually drifts off to sleep.

The whispering voice from his dream echoes in his mind for some time after his eyes open to the dawn light. Who--? Another who with no answer. He probably should be disquieted.

He finds himself intrigued instead.

Reg at least makes sure Lilita has a clean cloth to keep pressed to her arm wound. As she asks her question, he stands and scans their surroundings, turning slowly in place. He stops facing the gnarled remains of a tree that stands between them and the pond.

"We appear to be at the location shown on the map that Mr. Sparrow found," he replies. "I can follow the path and try to determine our location with respect to the village. But the map also indicated that this stump was of some importance..."

And with that, Reg begins to circle the stump, examining it minutely. He doesn't wade into the pond though, or at least he doesn't yet.

Perception Check (+1 if trap): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (16) + 6 = 22

Regariel leaves it to Sparrow to bring Markon up to date, turning instead to aid Lilita. "Easy," he murmurs as he attempts to clean and bind her wounds, starting with the nasty upper arm slice.

Battle Medicine: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14

Unfortunately Reg's fatigue throws off his technique somewhat. But at least he's not making things worse?

Reg has never been prone to rage, preferring to project an aura of calm control as much as possible. He doesn't give in to rage now, but Hallod's vicious treatment of flat-on-the-floor Markon pushes him closer than he's been in quite a while.

Teeth gritted, he draws his sword and moves into range, taking advantage of the excellent distraction Lilita is providing to watch for Hallod's weak points, for any signs of inattention.

Free DaS: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (13) + 7 = 20

At what he hopes is the right moment, Reg's short sword flashes in a hard, fast jab.

Strategic Strike (if that 20 actually hits): 2d6 ⇒ (1, 4) = 5

Unlike Lilita, Regariel elects to keep it simple. A quick climb onto the crates to gain a clear line of sight for his crossbow, a moment to analyze Hallod's stance and movement, and then--

But first the climb.

Acro that bat: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (16) + 5 = 21

Reg soon has some altitude and Hallod in his sights. He watches the brute engage with Markon and Lita, seeking just the right moment...

Devise that Stratagem: 1d20 ⇒ 8

Unfortunately he can't get a bead on Hallod that doesn't risk hitting one of his friends instead. So like Lilita, Reg changes up his original plan and closes the distance.

The closer he gets, the more obvious it becomes that Markon is severely injured. Skidding to a stop, Reg drops his bow and attempts to staunch the fighter's wounds.

Battle Medicine: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 244d8 + 1 ⇒ (7, 8, 1, 8) + 1 = 25

Reg had considered trading off his crossbow for his sword as they walked down the passage, but when their path opens up into a wider room, he's glad he kept his ranged weapon in hand and reloaded ... and all the more glad when the serpent boils forth from the depths. In the moments that Markon uses to slice the snake open, he brings his bow to bear and watches the pattern of the beast's undulations, noting the disruption caused by the sudden gaping wound.

Strategem plskthnx: 1d20 ⇒ 5

....... urrrrgh.

Reg smiles and shakes his head at Lilita's offer of both flasks. "Better to divide them, I think," he says mildly. "If something unexpected happens to one of us, the other will still have a flask to hand."

He gnaws thoughtfully at his lower lip as he watches Markon and Lita's attempts to get past the locked door. When Lilita steps back, he steps forward with a diffident shrug, once again pulling his probes from his kit. "I wouldn't call lockpicking one of my fortes, but no reason not to make the attempt."

Thievery: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 2 = 19

Regariel, still in the doorway, focuses on the slightly dazed, blue collared dog. Eyes narrowed, he loads up with a second bolt and takes a moment to study the animal's vulnerabilities.

Devise a Stratagem: 1d20 ⇒ 18

Reg takes a steadying breath and fires.

So that's 18 + 4 int + whatever plus the dog's condition gives!

Having unshipped his crossbow and loaded it, Reg gives Markon a tense nod in response to his silent query. Once the door opens, he scans the room, taking in every visible detail with his keen, dark-adapted eyes even as his hearing tracks the direction the baying comes from.

Between seeing Markon's fall and recalling his own earlier misadventure in the mud, Regariel is not keen to venture onto the slick stones himself. Instead he takes aim at the red-collared dog, watching its movement and reaction to Sparrow's shocking spell. He holds off actually firing, though, waiting for the beast's next aggressive move.

Devise a Stratagem: 1d20 ⇒ 3

Regariel sighs. "We won't have a better chance at finding the answers we seek than we do right now. At the very least, Hallod will remove any useful evidence if he finds out someone has been here."

He glances back at the rubble, then looks ahead down the tunnel. "I say we go on."

Regariel lets fly with an elvish epithet of his own when the floor sinks. How--

--did I miss that?! is lost in immediate action as he leaps forward, trying to get clear, then turn and help others. If he can.

Reflex: 1d20 + 7 + 1 ⇒ (18) + 7 + 1 = 26

"Hmmm." Reg kneels by the trap door and examines the lock. "It looks solid. Maybe a sturdier piece of metal..." And with that he reaches into his belt pouch and pulls out two ... probes. Slim, but definitely stronger than a hairpin.

Don't ask why he has those in his medical kit, people. You do not want to know.

He slides one tip into the lock and wiggles it, then inserts the other in at an angle to the first. Here's hoping...

It's Engineer Reg toot tooooot: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (13) + 7 = 20

With the trap disarmed, Regariel's sigh of relief ends in a small chuckle at Markon's friendly gibe. "Ears is fine," he replies. Though Selcheneb does mean "wise-eyed" in the ancient tongue.

Unfortunately, his wise eyes seem doomed to disappointment when he scans the rubbish tip of a room for anything significant aside from the spear on the floor. Brow furrowed, Reg nods agreement to Sparrow's suggestion of a further recon, then exits the room to examine the tumbledown building's exterior.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (11) + 6 = 17

"Look there." He gestures at the boards across one window. "I don't think those boards are actually attached to the window frame." He steps forward, then hesitates, scanning the ersatz barrier. "Best to check it first."

Reg nods thoughtfully at both of Lilita's assertions. Even if he could wring more physical evidence from the vial in his belt pouch, that evidence would most likely point straight at Finnik instead of whoever handed him the poison. If someone else handed him the poison. Reg refuses to be pushed into a conclusion yet.

When they finally reach Hallod's house, his eyes narrow as he studies the ... residence. "Strange. If Hallod is the 'H' in Bort's ledgers, and produced the gold that paid for those 'reagents,' whatever they were ... why would he live here? Some sort of cover?" Reg keeps his voice to a low murmur, pitched to carry no further than his companions.

Survival: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7

"Hallod," Regariel breathes, eyes narrowing as he recalls those particular entries in Bort's ledgers. He gives Sparrow a significant look.

His lips tighten a trifle at the tale's conclusion. While he understands the goblin's fear of a beating, the thought that Bort likely would not now be lying unconscious if Finnik had turned the vial over to Delma and explained the situation makes Reg grit his teeth.

"Yes, I think that would be best," he says in answer to Finnik's offer, then turns to his comrades. "Do you agree?"

Though he's painfully aware of how he looks as he stumbles up, brushing goose feathers and mud clumps off his person, Regariel nevertheless intently observes the interaction, especially Finnik's reactions. Whatever the terrified little goblin might try next, Reg wants as much advance notice as possible.

He sighs inwardly at what he hears. If Markon's imposing presence and Lilita's attempt at persuasion won't gain Finnik's cooperation, Reg is not sure how much he'll be able to contribute, especially given the endemic distrust between goblins and elves. But nothing ventured...

He injects all the calm and reason he can summon into his tone. "No one here wishes to harm you, Finnik." Well, he's not altogether sure about Markon just now, but never mind. "All we want is the truth. For Bort's sake, Delma's, and yours."

Come on, unmodified Diplomacy: 1d20 ⇒ 16

Regariel grimaces, spits, and scowls in that order, but he regains his feet and follows his companions. Approaching the geese, he tries to slip past them silently.

Stealth at -1: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10

Oh ... dear.

Reg takes a breath, intending to try a reassuring call of We're not here to harm you, we just need to talk. But before he can get a word out, Finnik is on the run and Markon is kicking holes in things. Not that he's complaining.

Gritting his teeth, Reg starts in pursuit of the fleeing goblin, hoping that he won't have reason to be glad he'd left his better tunic in his pack today...

Reflex Save: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (3) + 7 = 10

It's Regariel's turn for a quiet, preoccupied walk. Thoughts chase themselves through his head: thoughts of Krent and Finnik, of the evidence they've already discovered, but mostly of Bort's condition and what other help might be found for him. Markon's discovery of the three-toed footprint brings him back to himself.

"Three toes," he murmurs. "At that size, it has to be a goblin."

Survival: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7

His own search through the tall grass uncovers nothing, but perhaps others will have better luck...

Regariel murmurs sincere thanks for Metmon's appreciative gifts, particularly the potion. Desna avert, but if they ever again need to bring a comrade back from death's edge, perhaps they won't need to rely on what looked suspiciously like either wild magic or divine intervention.

When Lita questions the farmer, Reg ceases his inspection of the potion bottle and pays strict attention to the conversation.

Sorry folks, but with his lack of charisma modifier, much less diplomacy skills, Reg will not be assisting in the questioning. Keen ears, eyes and mind, yes. Silver tongue? Not so much. ;)

Lilita may not have killed the stirge outright, but she has given Reg the moment he needs to assess the situation while he reloads. He brings his crossbow to his shoulder, narrows his eyes, and fires.

Strike with DaS: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18

Damage with SS: 1d8 + 1d6 ⇒ (6) + (1) = 7

Sneezing, for all the world as if he were some raw newcomer to tracking and possessed of allergies besides, how embarrassing. Regariel's chagrined self-castigation lasts until he spots the roosting blooddrinkers, interrupted only by Sparrow's touch to his shoulder.

He blinks at the other man's words, then turns his attention back to the nest, loading his crossbow as Markon takes careful aim, smiling with grim satisfaction at the bodyguard's successful shot. "Well done," he murmurs, feeling a sudden confidence for his own chances wash over him. Reg narrows his eyes as he sights in on another stirge ... then fires.

Fortune-enhanced Shot: 19 + 5 = 24

Crossbow Damage: 1d8 ⇒ 4

Reg blinks when Lilita looks in his direction, then smiles a little sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I, ah, can't claim to know much about stirges," he says. "The only vermin extermination I've ever done was helping clear out a plague of oversized rats that had taken over some tunnels and underground storage near Riverspire. However..."

His expression turns grave and thoughtful, eyes on the ground ahead of him. "Given that we have little idea where the clot even is, we'd best speak to Farmer Metmon again, try to uncover more information that will help us narrow the search. After that, a stealthy approach seems the best way to both find the precise location and learn the stirges' size, numbers and midday behavior."

Looking up once more, Regariel gives his companions a small smile. "So perhaps still not much of a plan, but we need more information, I think, before we can devise a better. Do any of you have other suggestions?"

"I too am keeping an open mind," Regariel says calmly. "As Lilita says, we haven't enough evidence to draw any solid conclusions from yet, and being a goblin isn't a crime in and of itself." Else the constable would have hauled him into custody shortly after he showed up. But that thought he keeps to himself.

Reg considers the options Sparrow has laid out. "If the plan is still to deal with the stirges at midday, that should likely be what we do next," he muses. "But whether we seek out Finnik after that or wait until after we speak to Krent, I'd recommend luring him with bait only as a method of last resort. Species aside, no one reacts well to being tricked."

Regariel listens intently to the information Sparrow has gleaned, his face grave but not shocked. At Markon's addendum about Finnik, his brow furrows as he thinks.

"It's true he might have run because he dosed Bort's soup," he says. "Or he might have seen who did so and been too afraid of the person to tell anyone. Or too afraid that he would be accused, given how ill-disposed many people feel toward goblins. Or he simply may have wanted to avoid the fighting."

Not that Reg has warm feelings for the species himself, but he refuses to reason ahead of the facts. Jumping to conclusions has landed many an investigation in a bog. "Whatever the reasons, talking to Finnik may net us more information.

"Thank you, Lilita," he replies to her offer of a drink. "I'll have some more spiced tea."

Reg gives Lilita a smile and a nod. "Certainly." After learning where she has stowed her pack, he brings the young woman a clean shirt as requested. Setting it down, he adds, "A tub bath is probably not a good idea, but a sponge bath shouldn't be a problem."

When Sparrow asks him to look over Markon's injuries, Reg smiles wryly. "I'm certainly willing to do what I can if he's willing to let me. We'll see how cooperative he's feeling once he's done with his bath. And after that, I do want to hear what your investigation has yielded."

And one medic is quick to express his opinion. "You may be sure you can manage it," Reg replies, in a stern tone belied by the corners of his mouth turning up, "but I am not. Wheelbarrow, Initiate." His tone turns coaxing. "You have been selfless and heroic enough for one day, surely. Let us take care of the aftermath, hm?"

He smiles and nods at Koln's offer. "Fresh meat would be most welcome, thank you. Just give me a moment to look the carcass over." He looks thoughtfully at the dead boar. "Likely the beast was acting out of natural ill temper, but increased aggression can be a symptom of disease.
Better to err on the side of caution."

Especially, Regariel thinks as he bends over the porcine corpse, with freakishly sick wolves about.

Medicine check: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16

Regariel sighs through a smile when he sees Lilita's eyes open, though he suspects that her regaining consciousness is no more due to his efforts than her miraculous healing. Never mind. The fact that she is awake and breathing matters far more than how she got to that state.

... though perhaps not to her? When Lilita sits up, he reaches a hand toward her shoulder out of reflex, intending to urge her to lie back down, but when he sees her gesture and closing eyes, he refrains. And waits, quietly.

When she apologizes, Reg chuckles. "I think Koln here might have a very different take on how helpful you were," he murmurs, then his eyes turn grave. "But please, lie back, rest, and take things slowly, Lilita. Though you are conscious, you are far from healed."

He looks up at Koln. "Are boar attacks common in this area?"

"It's true, Markon," Regariel says quietly, wearing an expression both fascinated and unsettled. "I watched the wound close just now.
Entirely on its own ... or at least it wasn't in response to anything I did."

Concern returns to his face as he again kneels by Lilita's side, performing his own checks on her pulse and breathing. "She's still in a very fragile state, though." He sighs and pushes his hair back from his face. "I'll do my best."

Reg produces a pipet and a small sealed bottle containing a clear liquid from his medicine kit. Opening the young woman's mouth, he uses the slim glass tube to deftly place one tiny drop of the tincture under Lilita's tongue. Then he selects a few herbs, places the leaves between his palms, and crushes them under Lilita's nostrils. Anyone watching closely will smell the sharp, bright scent the leaves give off.

Herbalism Lore: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (3) + 7 = 10

The young elf offers a silent prayer as he waits to learn if his efforts are effective.

Regariel has no time to ponder the strange salvation he just witnessed, though relieved gratitude washes through him as he regains his feet, placing himself between Lilita and the boar. Standing poised, Reg watches the injured beast's movements and waits for a moment when the boar seems fully focused on Markon ... then he strikes, short sword flashing.

Precision Strike (Reg hopes): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 274d6 + 1 ⇒ (2, 6, 2, 3) + 1 = 14

And how. O_O

Regariel doesn't wait for Markon's call to close the distance between himself and the unconscious young woman. "I'm here," he replies tersely, falling to his knees beside Lillita and dropping his sword in favor of his healer's kit. Trusting that Markon can keep the boar occupied, he starts binding Lillita's wounds, doing everything he can to halt the bloodflow.

Battle Medicine check: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7

Before going to find his fellow travelers, Regariel takes several minutes to closely examine the vial he found, still holding it with gloved hands and minute care as he searches for any physical clues.

Perception Check: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (16) + 6 = 22

After he catches up with Lilita and Markon (and offers a polite greeting to the elderly Mr. Furst), Reg nods agreement with the young initiate's suggested next step in the investigation. "Speaking with Koln sounds like an excellent idea to me." He holds up the vial, which gleams in the sunlight. "I would very much like to establish when Bort's bowl might have met up with this."

The fruitless scan of the dining room makes Regariel all the more determined to give the kitchen a thorough once over, though he tries to reassure the cook that he'll be out of her way shortly. She doesn't entirely look as if she believes him. After a circuit of the room reveals nothing, he turns to the turnipta pot and the bowl that held Bort's generous portion.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 6 = 9

Reg is rather chagrined to find no more evidence than the constable. After thanking Amora for her time, he goes outside to have a look around. The area around the inn sees too much foot traffic for prints to be of much use, but he keeps his sharp elven eyes focused for any other scraps of evidence.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (16) + 6 = 22

And what he finds is a tiny, shiny scrap indeed. After donning a pair of close-fitting gloves, Reg picks up a glass vial by the remains of its broken wax seal and examines it, then cautiously sniffs the sweet floral scent of the minute bit of liquid remaining within. Almost certainly the source of Bort's poisoning, but who dropped it? After his examination, he tucks the small object in his belt pouch.

Reg listens to the discussion of possible avenues of investigation with an intent, deeply thoughtful look on his face. When Sparrow asks about his puzzle-solving experience, he nods. "I have assisted Greengold's constabulary with a variety of investigations, property crime, missing persons, assaults, murders ... the last two are where i acquired my medical skills. Murder is far from common in my home city, but forensic medicine is still needed to determine whether someone was the victim of accident or foul play." A slight shrug. "At least we seem to have the answer to that question in Mr. Bargith's case."

His thoughtful look returns. "I do wonder if it might be best to divide up our tasks according to our skills. Myself gathering physical evidence here at the scene, and perhaps you, Mr. Sparrow, going over the caravan records, given your business expertise. And Miss Yuzu, you may be best placed to ask questions of the townsfolk. The people here seem to respect your status as an Iomedaen initiate, and with one of the caravaneers with you to broker introductions, I wager you could smooth any metaphorical feathers the constable has ruffled. And we have the twins and Markon to provide backup where needed."

Regariel offers the others a small smile. "Please don't hesitate to offer any suggestions or concerns you may have. And I will of course still assist with the stirge hunt. As you have pointed out, Lilita, whatever assistance we can give the people here may encourage them to take us into their confidence"

Regariel responds to Cookie simply and directly, also in Elvish. "I'm glad I could help." He offers the elderly elf a small, almost shy smile and a respectful inclination of his head and shoulders. Then he goes to rest as Cookie insists, his mingled relief and worry overridden by deep fatigue as the tension of treating Bort leaks away.

Fatigue doesn't stop him from also getting up at first light to stop by Bort's room and learn that he is now breathing on his own. Buoyed by this improvement, though concerned that the dwarf is still unconscious, Reg asks Cookie to please let him know about any changes in his friend's condition.

After taking a short walk, lost in thought, Reg fetches up back at the inn in time for breakfast. Working his way through his meal and a restorative cup of tea, he smiles at Markon's 'technical term,' then listens to Tamli's frustration and her request for help. His skills in investigation are needed after all, it seems. "I'm certainly willing to try," he says. "I hope the constable hasn't muddied the waters too badly as far as evidence is concerned."