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Zaiharahel nods as Fahim speaks, then interjects after he finishes. "...So, disguise then? The troll is not very well mannered, and has a proclivity for antipathy towards elves. Probably humans too. And..." He glances at Mexus. "...And, so, yes. Any ideas on that front? I could put a handful of rocks in my mouth, and put a mop on my head, and call myself a troll, but I'd still be far too dashing to pass for one." He smirks.
Zaiharahel sniffs, wrinkling his nose at Honus. "...Well, the ferry is run by a troll named Rhyme-tusk. Not very friendly. Also doesn't seem to be interested in money. Especially money held by elves." Zaiharahel scratches his neck in thought. [b]"...His boat didn't look like much. But I guess it's better than nothing. Maybe one of you could talk some sense into him, but he didn't really seem like the sense-talking type. So we may be stuck here until we can figure something out."
Zaiharahel nods to the troll. "No worries, I understand completely. We hate spending coin anyway." Zaiharahel turns and starts walking away. "...I'm sure someone else will come along and be willing to pay you money for standing on a boat. That'll mean you're not getting paid nothing, standing down here by the river all day coiling and uncoiling the same rope. Best of luck!"
Zaiharahel takes in his surroundings, and then begins moving down to the river to take a look at the ferry, and attempt to gain more information to bring to the group. If possible, gaining the information without speaking to people, (i.e., posted travel times on a board) but if necessary, gathering information from citizens.
Ugh, this whole trip is miserable, wolves, cold, goblins, cold, why can't we stay in the city for a night? Although, the less time we have to look after these goblins, the better... "As much as I hate to admit it, I think you're probably right, Honus. I'm not good with maps, anyone know how far we are from Trollheim? We could probably use some additional food just in case we get snowed in somewhere." Zaiharahel furrows his brow. "...Or, you know, just in case this forsaken cold stops, it magically turns to spring, and we decide to make a picnic to honor whichever god thought that up. Whichever."
Zaiharahel narrows his eyes as he scratches at his thankfully un-ripped throat, then pivots again, sword swinging through the air as he stabs at the wolf standing next to him (yellow dot, assuming flanking, but who knows). to hit.
Zaiharahel locks his eyes on the wolves, watching for openings through which to stab. "...Do you think there's any more? Don't they usually attack in larger groups?"
As the wolf slips past Zaiharahel, he slides backwards with it (5 foot step), staying in its blind spot as it gnashes its maw at Honus, flanking it. He uses his momentum as he pivots on the ball of his foot, sliding his shortsword blade neatly up the wolf's flank, piercing up under its ribs.
Zaiharahel narrows his eyes as he snatches his shortsword from the ground next to his bag, and slips past Honus through the flap of the tent, unsheathing his shortsword and tossing the scabbard aside as he steps up behind one of the wolves, hoping that it's attention will remain off of him until after he drives his blade through its spine. Which will have to happen next round, as now he's out of actions. I'll have to invent a blade that automatically removes itself from the sheath one of these days, he thinks to himself.
Zaiharahel groans and pulls the furs from off of his head, "...Too much talk. Not enough sleep. Fahim, we don't get paid if the goblins don't make it where we're taking them. And gods are gods, good, evil, whatever power does whatever, everyone's beholden to someone, and they hate everyone that isn't. Does your god believe that goblins have souls and should be saved? I'm f@@+ing miserable right now, my insides are frozen, and if I don't get paid, I'm going to be very irate. Go to sleep, and keep spooning Honus, and try and keep the sweet nothings that you whisper a little quieter, as I lay here in misery, I don't want to have any more reason to want to die than the freezing cold."
Zaiharahel's teeth chatter uncontrollably. Why the f+!# are they so loud? It's not my fault they can't sleep because it's so g%$$$@n cold. Maybe they'll die, and I can have their blankets. Wouldn't that be swell? If anyone ever suggests coming back to this place, so help me, I will eat their f!%%ing soul. Zaiharahel grabs one of the blankets that were cast aside, and pulls out on top of himself.
Zaiharahel shuffles back outside to stand next to Mexus. "...Yeah, I don't know what I expected a bunch of goblins to have other than dirt and shivs made from animal bone. Or maybe human bone. I don't know one from the other. It might have been wood. I didn't care enough to inspect it closely. In either case, nothing of value in there." Beat. "...Nothing that we'd value in there."
Zaiharahel moves up next to Mexus, keeping an eye out, scanning the field, checking behind them and further up the pass to look for any forces that may be coming due to the smoke. ...I wonder if we should get up in one of the towers to have higher ground if they have reinforcements... Or maybe we should just keep moving."
Zaiharahel mutters curses under his breath as he angrily nocks another arrow. "...Didn't work the first time, so why stop now?" Grumble. "...And those who spake had their tongues removed, for so harsh was their sound that none should hear..." He narrowed his eyes as he took aim at tower top, waiting for one of the goblin heads to poke up, then fires.
Zaiharahel squints and moves his aim ever so slightly to the side, taking aim at the first goblin. He lets fly his arrow.
As the first arrow leaves the string, he whips another arrow from his quiver and nocks it. He turns his head slightly to Mexus to comment. "On the plus side, the bows that they have hopefully shouldn't be able to effectively reach us here. As for Honus and Fahim... Eh... Maybe?"
Zaiharahel stands in silence, debating various decisions he has made in life to bring him to this point. A point he feels he needs clarification on, "...The... Dunghurler. Is... not just a clever name, is it? Why couldn't it be 'Goldfinder', or 'Danger-killer'?" He looks to Dunghurler, "...No offense intended." He pauses. "...Do they have a bedtime?" He looks to Kella. "You are the strongest, smartest looking goblin I've seen, ever. The road ahead could be dangerous, but we'll make a good team. You need things, you let me know."
Zaiharahel chuckles. "Ta's il- vee' quel vee' "hey, lle!" nan' ta will uma. il-Tel'Quessir tend rusv-ta. amin lond't utue y' neuma amin il-sprien-aya am'. One way or another." Zaiharahel moves carefully towards the door, lightly poking in the snow with his shortsword for traps outside the threshold, then moving in to check the door itself. ELVISHNESS:
"It's not as good as "hey, you!" but it will do. Non-Elves tend to mispronounce it. I haven't found a trap I couldn't spring yet!"
Zaiharahel nods to each of the adventurers as they introduce themselves, sitting on the bench next to his overstuffed rucksack and longbow leaning up against the edge of the table. As Honus finishes his long-winded introduction, he grins wryly, raising an eyebrow. "...And man of many words, you are, Honus. Well met. I look forward to your blade saving us all many, many times. Hopefully *every* time." He nods, then gestures to the other members of the group. He glances to Mexus. "Mexus... I've never met a demon before, so I can say that I've never met a demon I didn't like. So if you're anything like them, I'm sure we'll get along just fine, regardless of which house you hail from." He looks to Fahim. "...And Fahim. I suppose that it won't be too much longer that I can safely say that I've never played with explosives, but I never did put much of an emphasis on 'safe', anyway. However, I've been unexploded for most of my adult life, and I hope I can count on you to keep it that way." "I, as you may remember, am Zaiharahel. As you may or may not have guessed, I come from lands well south of this place, and while I enjoy the cold from time to time, I have a feeling that we're in for something of a frosty treat here. I hope each of you brought extra warm undergarments, because I did not. I am a mild-mannered sculptor by trade, and my skills with a knife know no match. They saw I had a bow, and also some arrows, and so here I am."
Zaiharahel's eyes follow the tube into Mexus's pack. He shakes his head as he pulls his hood back up over his ears. "No concerns from me. The only thing that would make this more fun would be a tropical climate. And instead of goblins... not... goblins." He opens the door, leaving it open behind him as he slips back out into the lodge proper to reconvene with the group.
The door opens as a man slips through, closing behind him with barely a sound. He glances quickly between the individuals already gathered in the room, as he exhales heavily, his breath hangs in a cloud in the cold air. As he draws back his hood, his elven ears pop out from underneath it, slightly too big for his head, even by elven standards, and his blond hair sits in a messy mop on his head. At about 5'10", you'd think he was short for an elf, and you'd be right. Congratulations. He adjusts his belt, which hangs a bit lopsided, heavy to the shortsword sheathed on his left hip. Nothing about him seems to fit quite right. He stands just inside the door, looking to Valsin with a nod. "Sorry if I'm late." He scratches the back of his head. |
