"Worry not, noble sire, we will avenge this wrong against the Splitscales. The ground will drown goblin blood," Tarka says to her father, trying to comfort him. He touches his shoulder lightly, offering silent solidarity.
Search Posts
Tarka climbs down to the floor and calls out, "If anyone is wounded, please, come to me!"
Tarka walks out of the hut, and seeing that the goblins are fleeing decides to conserve the rest of her resources. "Get 'im boys!"
Tarka, her performance still lingering, moves out of the hut. She points her finger at another of the goblins, and whistles her short spell again.
Tarka stops singing, but the magic of her song lingers on in her companions' hearts. She points a finger at the only goblin she can see and chips a brief incantation.
Tarka continues to sing, her high hissing voice a draconic counterpoint to the goblin swill. She sings of the kobolds' majestic heritage and their cunning. A goblin skald? This is worse than I thought. As she sings, she reaches inside one of her pouches and draws out a scroll with draconic writing on it.
Tarka steps back from the doorway, and raises her voice in the tribe's song. She sings of the history of their people, and all their great heroes, lending inspiration and courage to her companions. Meanwhile she aids Neemer in extinguishing the fire that threatens her father's hut.
"That sounds like our best bet at this point. If she was the last one who saw him she might know where he left from. There could be tracks we can follow or something else she knows," Tarka says.
Tarka shrugs and walks into the hut. "Sure," she says. "I'm as curious as the rest of you."
Tarka walks up to the others, her blue-green scales flashing in the sunlight. Her tail sways gracefully behind her, and she flashes them a beaming smile. "Good morning, boys. Father making us wait as usual, I see?" She waves at Urzan in response to his greeting.
Cool, thanks for the pick! |