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Torik will follow behind Dolgrin and Aleranna while unslinging the crossbow hanging from his back, grunting with the effort to cock the weapon before placing a bolt and holding it at a ready position. "Grindylow so close to shore indicates it has been a while since any sea vessel plied these waters. They are normally quite skittish."
Torik sees the ripples as the two small monsters make a run at Corvoril and simply snaps his fingers to summon an oddly green colored chainshirt that settled around the ulfen's torso and fit like a glove. "Ware the tentacles, they can grapple just as well as an Octopus.
Torik grunts as the first hints of fatigue start to build up with a growing burning sensation appearing in his shoulders. A flicker of movement from the corner of his eye caused the ulfen to stand suddenly and point at the sand bar. "Ware the sandbar, Grindylow!"
Torik took the spyglass and gazed at the distant settlement for several several minutes, moving the device in tiny distances to shift what he was looking at.
Despite his attentive gaze he lowered the spyglass with a grimace and handed it to the next person, unable to scry out anything of use beyond what Ramona had told them. "There is no need for a fire arrow, the secondary site is several miles northwest of the town. As for the others..." Torik looks around at the mulling settlers and soldiers for a moment before looking back at Ramona. "Lying will only come back to haunt you. If you cannot tell them the truth then say nothing at all." His blunt message delivered the pale ulfen moved to the stairs that led to the hold below where his own gear was kept and came back a few minutes later with a large backpack neatly ordered and packed. His ever present book had vanished and now three daggers lined his belt while a thick quarterstaff was strapped to his back. A folded light crossbow was strapped to his right thigh while several bolts fitted neatly on a leather strap that wrapped around his left thigh. In the the tropical paradise they sailed through the only clothing he wore was a loose clean white tunic that he left open at the chest and tucked into black pants. His feet, as they had been the entire journey across the ocean, were barefoot while his black leather boots were stored safely in his bag.
Without a word to anyone the taciturn Ulfen carried his bag over to where sailors were lowering one of the Ship's boat and dropped his bag overboard into the smaller vessel. He followed the bag a moment later once the boat had settled into the water, lowering himself hand over hand down the rope the sailors had tied to the railing and settled down at one of the oars.
A tall ulfen with luxurious black hair that fell past his shoulders and a thick black beard that touched his chest stepped from the shadow of the mast and followed after the others he had gotten to know along the journey. As always he clutched a thick book in his ink stained hands, a book the rest of the group knew he would constantly be jotting down ideas and observations into about anything and everything that he deemed important. Despite his obvious lineage he was a lean specimen of the Ulfen people, being of middling height and pale of skin that never seemed to tan despite the harsh tropical sun. Another unusual aspect were his black and blue eyes. Whereas humans had white sclera some event in Torik's past had cursed him with pitch black sclera and the only break in the inky darkness was his piercing blue iris that was common to the northern humans. Not one for small talk he stepped up close to Ramona and the others. "What is it?" |
