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"Windhorn, Windhorn, Windhorn," Roswitha repeats. "My tutor told me to repeat things three times out loud if you want to remember them." She remounts her horse and urges him into motion towards the town, tugging gently on Stem's lead rope to get him to follow.
Roswitha hands the man 20 gold and hauls a couple of the sacks the man indicates to the back of Stem, atop the goods already there. She pats the mule's nose. "Good beast. I'll get you something nice in town. Whatever you eat. Is there special grass or something?"
Ciri rolls her eyes and begins to say something (probably nasty or scornful), but is cut off by Roswitha. "I can front the gold. Anyone who helps by taking some of the cargo on their own horse can split the profit with me, if you like. If not... well, I'm sure Stem can handle the rest for this little distance, and I keep it all. What do you say, friends? In for a share of the profit?" Roswitha starts digging her purse from her saddlebags.
Roswitha blushes as she tries not to think about the 39 gold sovereigns hidden in her gear. "We have no cart in which to haul the goods, sir, just this poor mule who - alas! - is rather burdened with my goods. Unless we could lash it somehow onto the horses and walk ourselves." She looks dubiously at the size of the cart.
"Maybe there's an inn with hot baths?" Roswitha ventures hopefully.
"Do you or Mr. Bubbles see anything interesting, little one? Ripe blackberries?" Roswitha unconsciously hangs on to Arielle so the girl can lean and look without falling from the saddle.
Roswitha looks down at Arielle. "You know, they would be in the right. It's rude to drop in uninvited and interrupt a meal. Let's move away and wait for the others. Besides, I don't really like looking at that messy deer." Roswitha kicks her horse and knees it out of the ring of statues, tugging Stem along.
"How about if we all go see them, together? Mr. Glen will protect us if anything happens." Roswitha motions to everyone else to ride forward to join Ali, encouraging her horse to do the same.
"I'm pretty sure that's not the way medusa stoning works." Roswitha scowls at Ciri when Arielle isn't looking. "Do you want to go look at the stone giants? Ali is up by them, and he's fine." She looks a question at the child.
"Nice morning, isn't it?" Roswitha offers, breathing deeply of the fresh morning air as she clambers aboard her horse and settles Stem's lead rein. The brush of dewy cornstalks against her garments leaves them damp to the point of soaking through to her skin, but she seems pleased enough with a good night's rest to skip complaining about the wet.
"Well, definitely let me know if he's unhappy, please," Roswitha smiles at the child, "And I don't know that we need to go see a dead deer. Really, who knows how old it is or what horrid creatures have picked at it with filthy beaks and teeth? Fresh anything sounds better than gods-know-how-old carrion." Roswitha shudders, but gives Ciri an apologetic glance.
"These aren't shoes, they're important and useful..." Roswitha stops and presses her lips together, sighs deeply, and nods in Ali's direction. "I'd appreciate help, Ali, so the load is balanced and poor Stem is more comfortable."
Roswitha looks up from her packing as Glen reappears, nodding and smiling at the strange little man. "Well and bravely done! We have nought to fear from statues. It's good to know that." She finishes loading her pack, then turns to Ali with a frown. "What, erm... what exactly did you milk to get the accompaniment to our breakfast, Ali?"
Roswitha nods, hands Stem's reins to Armin, and ambles off to the common room to try to find Vekkel and get the latest news about Tuskgutter, as well as if he's heard anything about Bokken's brother, the kobolds, or a tatzelwyrm.
"That's a good thought, Ali!" Roswitha nods approvingly. "Now, lets talk to the people who posted the bounties and get the locations, as near as we can!"
Roswitha folds her arms as she peruses the board. "Didn't we just kill some bandits? And we will probably kill more if they accost us. We should find out where all the named creatures lurk and see if we can find them in one trip. But Glen makes a good point: we told Bokken we would seek his brother. We should probably try to keep our word first and foremost before taking on new obligations."
Roswitha ponders Armin's suggestion. "Are kobolds completely uncivilized, or could they be a viable part of our new domain? Maybe we can reach a mutually-advantageous agreement with them."
"They don't speak Common?" The noblewoman seems genuinely surprised. "Why wouldn't they speak Common like everyone else?"
"If the kobolds are hurting trade and expansion, we should probably see what is wrong with them. And kill any bandits we encounter on the way," Roswitha chimes in, "But for the bandits - how do we prove their activity is down?"
Roswitha frowns at the bounty board. "What is a tattlezeworm? How big is it?" she inquires of the android and elf, who seem to know what they are talking about.
Roswitha cranes her neck to try to spot something in the sky. "Like what? Vultures? Stem's not ready for them quite yet, and Armin seems to have survived the yellangelo fruit."
"If it's good, we should pack some back to Oleg's, see what we can get for it. Maybe see if we can get seedlings to grow so we can start orchards of the stuff." The noblewoman is gazing far off into the distance, probably seeing a view of sunny orchards, tidy farms, and happy peasants from the point of view of her high castle window.
"Maybe we should try those out on Stem or Blossom..." Roswitha's admonition and upraised hand are far too late to stop the mastication. She watches with interest. "Well? Is it any good? Is there any burning or dizziness?" Though a sheltered noble, she realizes that poisoned food is a tough sell and unlikely to be a viable commercial enterprise.
Roswitha glances at the tree with its giant fruit and squints at it interestedly. "Does anybody know what that fruit is? If we're to establish civilization here, it would be best if we found some unique trade goods that would bring a good price from neighboring kingdoms." She pauses to study the tree.
Roswitha nods at Kalica in acknowledgement. "No harm done; part of our charter is to eliminate bandits. And it certainly sounds from their actions and Ali's story like this was a group of bandits. Now, when does the crew arrive to clean up the bodies?" She dusts her hands off in a businesslike manner and turns to Arielle to see if the child is well. "Are you all right? Thank you for staying out of the way, Arielle. I wouldn't put anything past... well, thank you for staying out of the way." Roswitha shakes her head darkly but keeps what she thinks of the bandits to herself. "Should we go back to Oleg's and ask him about that day, Ali?"
Making a wall with Stem between the battle and the little girl, Roswitha is reluctant to move out of position but finds herself too far away from the combatants to be useful. She takes a moment to catch her breath, then gathers power to herself. free hand wreathed in frost and dripping blackness. She retains the grip on her dagger in the other.
provisional rolls:
"I'm not a witch; I'm not a witch!" Roswitha objects, hurling another glob at the man, which splatters onto the ground wide of the man.
Drawing her dagger, Roswitha attempts to herd Arielle behind Stem and stand between the child and the fray.
Roswitha dashes between Arielle and the bandits. "Arielle, you found Mr Bubbles. Your turn to hide! Run behind Aeon or the little house and don't let anyone see you!" She turns to the fray, spotting another banding approaching Ali and Miyari. Her eyes go black and lightless as the void. She raises one hand, and dark energies wreathe around it, twining between her fingers. She makes a throwing motion at the bandit...
...but the darkness seems to stick to her fingers instead of flying towards her opponent. It falls to the ground at her feet with a splat, where it lies sizzling and popping. She looks at it with annoyance, then scoops it up and tosses it in the bandit's face, where it clings and sizzles.
"I'm rather fond of this hairy brute. He's smarter than some people I know. I shall keep him," Roswitha says decidedly, bringing a shimmering glow around herself with a flick of her fingers.
"Perhaps we haven't seen any because these gentlemen are doing such a good job," Roswitha deadpans to Miyari, "I suggest we move along and let them get to it."
"The place is rather small. We are just finished, though, and there's plenty left for sale. Very handy having him in the middle of the wilderness, isn't it?" Roswitha pulls on her gloves and takes up Stem's lead rope, speaking in a friendly manner but not losing her reserved air. "We're just heading southish - any nasty surprises that way?"
Roswitha sighs and shrugs her hood over her face to keep the rain off. She pets the soft nose of Stem while waiting for the rest to emerge from the smelly hut. Uncertain of the touchy elf's temper, she keeps to herself, straining to hear the conversation in the hut. "Fangberries?" she asks as Miyari exits with a comment about said botanicals, "Are we of to find them? Did the, er, hermit give you any good directions?"
Roswitha gently pounds the heel of one hand against the side of her head, trying to figure out what the demented hermit is saying. "Do they have beaks?" Tengu have beaks, right? She's not sure anymore.
"Ew. Maybe you can move them away with a stick," Roswitha suggests to Miyari, not approaching the snakes herself, "I think they get sluggish in the cold. I can stand ready with a freezing spell in case they have a hissy fit." She chuckles inside at her own humor but doesn't crack a smile.
Roswitha loads up Stem with the camp gear, leaving the trade goods behind in Oleg's care. She stops to buy a broad-brimmed hat from Oleg - not much for warmth, but it will definitely keep the sun from burning exposed skin. "Mr. Grub? How long do you think we will be gone?" she asks the halfling, a bit worried about their food supplies given the way he eats.
"I'm definitely leaving the supplies here, then. I am not sure about mysterious ruins, but I suppose if they are here, we should find out what they are. It wouldn't be good to put a settlement near, say, the lair of a necromancer. Right?" Roswitha looks a little worried.
"If we are just going on short trips to map the nearby areas and plan to return here, I would like to leave the bulk of my supplies and trade goods here, if I might, Oleg. Many of these are suitable for starting a settlement, but not the best for scouting. Would that be agreeable with you, perhaps for a small storage fee?" Roswitha asks the keeper of the trading post.
"I brought some things specifically to trade, though many of them would be useful starting a settlement," Roswitha says with some pride at her unwonted practicality. She leans in to whisper in Miyari's ear, "Though I probably could use some help haggling."
Roswitha narrowly watches Ciri with the child, then decides that Arielle can judge the woman for herself if she's already acquainted. She addresses Oleg. "I would like to unpack my mule and stable her, if that works for you, Mr. Leveton. There are some goods that may interest you here. We should talk after dinner. In the meantime, Stem needs water. Ali, can you help me unload her?" She watches the young man carefully, not certain how welcome his former acquaintance's attention might be.
Roswitha eyes the golden-brown rotating porcine corpse and sniffs the air appreciatively. "I see we've come to the right place... and why Mr. Grub keeps returning here. Mr. Leveton, it is good to meet you. My name is Roswitha. May we settle our four-legged friends in your stable?"
"At least as big as horses. When they come to a town, all the carrot farmers weep and wail and rend their garments." Observing Ali marking something on his map, the spirit of whimsy fades, and Roswitha peers over Ali's shoulder curiously. "What are you marking for this spot? Wolves?"
Roswitha nods approval at Kalica's protection of Arielle, then turns to Ali. "Oh, terrible creatures, big as horses. They travel in great herds, and the ground shakes before you ever..." Oh dear, "see" them would be an awful thing to say to the lad "...even realize they are coming. They trample crops and herds and forests, my grandsire said. Huge, terrible, rapacious... bunnies."
No concern; concentration or not is a standard component of spell definitions, and I was curious about this power.
Does the Old Wounds healing persist no matter what, or is the time thief engaged the entire duration and interrupting her interrupts the healing? I guess I'm really asking if it requires concentration on the part of the time thief.
"Maybe we should run them off," Roswitha suggest, keeping a close eye o Stem to see if he is at all alarmed. "Of course, they might keep other, worse things away. Like thunderbunnies." The sorceress shivers at the idea.
"Um.... wolf-like creatures? What wolf-like creatures?" Roswitha asks the far more observant investigator, speaking quietly so as not to alarm the little girl. She's not certain if Glen is joking or not, but no point in alarming Arielle and "Mr. Bubbles".
"Very happy to be alive and free of that place, Mr. Grub," Roswitha responds politely to their host, "And supplied with bacon! You think of everything, sir." She sees that Arielle is up and taking care of her grooming, then tends to her own, finally checking on Stem to be sure he's happy and that his load is distributed properly before they set off. "It's nice to have a guide," she says as they get started, "We were on the right track, I think, but somebody who knows the way is invaluable."
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