The trip from Elidir, the capital of Isger, to Almas, the capital of Andoran, wasn't going too badly. You'd found a place in a merchant caravan, run by Bort Bargith, a dwarf trader from the Five Kings Mountains. There are faster and easier routes south, but for those seeking to avoid Cheliax, this is the safest. You struck a deal with Bort, he shaved half off the standard "passenger" fare for your agreement to help with caravan security, entertainment, and wherever else your skills could be of use. The caravan consists of six covered wagons, four of which are laden with supplies, trade goods, and trinkets. Bort makes his home in the lead wagon and the cabin built onto its back, while the final wagon is for passengers and the cook.
Over the few days, you've gotten to know the caravan crew a bit. There was Bort, of course, and his second in command, Tamli. The half-orc woman was a chief of her clan at one point, though she is remarkably tight-lipped about her past. There was the ancient elf Cooky - you know he must be ancient because he looks old - who could whip up a tasty meal out of little more than mushrooms and dried meat. He seemed half-deaf, but then you were sure that at times he must be faking it. The Redfren twins Ulf and Olf took turns driving wagons and acting as scouts. They were practical jokers at heart, and seemed to take almost childish delight in swapping clothes and pretending to be each other, to the frustration of those who couldn't easily tell them apart. Keldaran was another human, a boisterous Varisian who would happily talk about all the time he spent in various mercenary groups. Finally was the gnome Glunda, who apparently was a former druid...or at least grew up among druids. She could definitely talk to the dray animals and tended not to talk to anyone else, other than Tamli and Bort. You've also learned a bit about your fellow "passengers", an odd mix of races and professions.
Fortunately, your journey so far has been fairly quiet, with no sign of danger - bandit or beast - even if not particularly comfortable. Other than the padding on the drivers' seats and the bale of scratchy wool in the fourth wagon, there was nothing soft to sit on, and every jounce in what could only generously be called a road sent pain spiking up your backside. Walking was no better, as the pace of the oxen was just faster than a comfortable walking speed for a human. Still, the company was nice, Bort's stories were interesting, if not a bit true, and traveling in groups was far better than walking these lands alone.
As you broke camp this morning, Bort announced you should arrive at the town of Etran’s Folly by nightfall, and he promised a comfortable bed for the night as a reward for a long day’s travel. The caravan’s teamsters shared a chuckle between them, trading knowing glances and subtle nods, but soon enough you are on the road again, the wagon bouncing and creaking along the uneven trail.
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Skittles, a short blue haired gnome, standing barely 3' tall, does not look any more out of the ordinary for a gnome than the rest of the crew. She has spent the bulk of the time these travels with either her face in her forumla book, or trying out the next recipe with her alchemy tools.
At news of arriving to "Etran's Folly" Skittles jumps with excitement. "And thanks again Bort, for letting us continue along, even after ya know.. " She pauses for a minute, directing her attention to the one partially burned wagon. "Well ya know, experiments don't always go as planned! Am I right?"
After a few groans and mutters from crew, she continues. "So Bort, what else can we expect to see in Etran's Folly, and why do I feel like everyone else knows something we don't?"
How Dahros had found himself the tallest male member of a dozen person caravan he will never quite understand, only the half-orc whatever her name was stood taller than he. Despite the traveling freak show of vertically challenged creatures, it wasn't really that bad of work.
I'll take a quiet day over a bloody one any time I can get it. he thought to himself as he bounces around on the seat of the second wagon, lost in thought about the relative ease of this job so far. If he could make it all the way to Etran's Folly without the need to draw his blade, all the better.
His stomach groans as he starts to think about the evening meal. He looks back and sees Cooky on the next wagon behind him and he says "What's the plan for next meal? I'm starved!"
When the old fool doesn't even acknowledge his words he shouts "COOKY! HEY! WHAT'S THE PLA-. BAH! Nevermind! he gives up halfway through and waves his hand dismissively. What's the point!
When they got to Etran's Folly he was going to get a soft bed, a warm meal and fresh ale. He rested his eyes and tried to live in the fantasy of how he was going to spend all of his coin when he arrived.
Ykka quickly found her place in the caravan. She'd stay out of the way during the day and entertain everyone at night. She started with soft, relaxing music while she felt out how everyone was doing. As the wine began to flow and the fires burned low, she'd start to play more lively music, trying to enjoin happy thoughts and caravan camaraderie. One evening early in the trip she'd played a few sailor songs at the request of Ulf and Olaf, but one glare from Tamli was enough to put that to an end.
For once in her travels, Ykka found herself spending time with another young girl gnome. They hadn't really had a chance to talk much yet and she didn't want to draw any attention if could avoid it.
When Bort finally announced they were nearing Etran's Folly, she smiled to herself and began to more thoroughly clean her instrument. She needed to make a good impression, after all.
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d’Log introduced himself to all the wagon folk and talked to each for a fair bit of time. Striking up casual conversation and helping out when needed. During the first few nights, he was fascinated by ol’Cooky. Watching the old chef move around his cooking area, d’Log noticed that he would sometimes mutter to himself what the next ingredient was. After about the first or second night, d’Log caught on, and when ol’Cooky would mumble, d’Log would read his lips. Swinging in, darting and grabbing the next ingredient and handing it over to Cooky. Getting no accolades or commendations, d’Log moved on to the next crew.
Watching the twins Ulf and Olf botch their impersonations of each other, d’Log knew he could help. Using his expertise in deception, d’log takes out his disguise kit and calls over Ulf and Olf. Okay gents, the biggest problem you got here is that all the focus in on your features. You costumes need to be a bit more distracting, that pulls the eyes away from all the flaws. You don’t need to look exactly alike, just similar. This here is my kit, want me to fix you guys up?
During the evenings by the campfire, d’Log would perform his tumbling show. Full of him rolling, flipping, disappearing in the shadows, appearing in trees, falling out of trees, switching peoples drinks. Sometimes he would tell some jokes. His all time favorites, Hey, Dahros the giant, why don't gnomes like jokes? They all go right over their heads. after d’Log laughter dies down, which sounds like a cat in heat mixed with the sound a collapsed lung, he turns to Tamil Hey Tamil too tall, did you hear about the all gnome town that didn’t let any humans in? Its called gno-man’s land.
One of the drovers smirked at Skittles' observation. "That's because the beds in Plaguestone ain't much better than the ones we got out here. And there's bugs. Pretty sure you won't sleep alone in 'em either, if you know what I mean. Bugs!"
Dahros got nothing from the elven cook, though as he turned away, he could have sworn there was a smirk on the ancient elf's face. but, when he turned back Cookie's face was still and emotionless once more.
The caravaneers seemed grateful enough for your help breaking camp this day, like every other day, and more than one of you considered that life in a merchant's caravan may not be all that bad of an option. After all, the food seemed plentiful, the company interesting, and the pay was better than most of you had seen in your life. d'Log especially seemed to fit in, the goblin acting as entertainer and comedian, and offering helping stage pranks of all sorts. The Ulfen brothers, especially, seemed to think he was part partner in crime and part mascot. And everyone appreciated having a bard along...well almost everyone.
It wasn't bad enough that he was working with a goblin named after a piece of wood, he was working with a joke-telling goblin.
Splendid.
Dahros shakes his head and rolls his eyes. As if the jokes weren't bad enough, the Ulfens seem to be encouraging him. Turning to d'Log he asks "Aren't gnomes the same height as goblins? Wouldn't that mean jokes go over your head too?"
The damned goblin talked more than their bard did. Who would have ever thought that could be possible? Only knew a couple of sailor songs at that. I guess she gets around a ship then. Probably full of diseases, best stay away.
The fighter starts to count off the members of his party on his hand, sure he's missing someone. Log, Book-face, Sailor-chick. Who the hell am I missing?
"Looks like you're thinking a little too hard there human, I see steam comin' out yer ears." With a grin, the gnome continued, "if you have something against us vertically-challenged types then why don't you just come out and say it? Or is your problem just with Dig-Dugs style of humor? I mean, if one can call that humor."
Without missing a beat, Rick deftly tumbled out of the wagon, returning a moment later with dirt smeared on his face and balancing a stick on his head.
"Look! I'm da-log! Ha ha!" Tossing his stick to Dahros he took a quick bow for his impromptu performance before returning to his apparently too-well hidden seat in the wagon.
Dahros was going to retort with something witty about gnomes, but instead he bursts out in laughter at the impersonation of the goblin. It was so hilarious in fact that Dahros emits a loud belly laugh, slapping his thigh. "You nailed it! NAILED IT!"
The morning passed quickly, with the gnomes and goblin all entertaining the group as best they could. Impressions, disguises, and song all went a long way towards lifting the spirits of the drivers, guards, and "passengers". In fact, you hardly noticed the passage of time until Keldaran shouted "Up ahead is Plaguestone...I mean, Etran's Folly, sorry Glunda."
Dahros the Vigilant will look out for danger along the way. That is to say, when he isn't laughing at stupid jokes or ridiculously short party members.
Dahros looks over at Keldaran confused. He crosses his arms on his chest, thinking. "That's the second time I've heard Plaguestone today. Can you please elaborate on what that nickname is supposed to mean? Are we walking into a disease-ridden city?"
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Skittles eyes peer out from behind her formula book, addressing Dahros.
"Caught my ears too there tall one..." Turning her attention to Keldaran. "Please, tell us more about this nickname. As a part of our deal, Mr Keldaran, you did ask us to provide security. What are we getting ourselves into?"
She begins muttering to herself "plaguestone... plaguestones... jinkies betters be prepared..."
She begins to whip up a few batches of Lesser Antiplague.
"Don't be shy, I can work and listen at the same time!"
"Plaguestone? You can't give a stone the plague. Though you can plague people with stones. My cousin Jormin had this problem with recurring kidney stones. Ask him and he'd tell ya he'd rather have had the plague. Gods know his language was filthy enough to cause a plague."
Rick mutters an incantation and sends a glob of Tanglefoot flying over the head of D'log.
Looking around innocently, he notes "So what exactly was the Folly of Etran anyways??"
Ykka wanders alongside the cart, plucking her violin and singing softly to herself, "First God sent plague number one; Turned the river into blood. All the people of Almas were feeling pretty low. They told Apollyon "Let them Go!"
Then God sent plague number two - Jumping frogs all over you. All the people in Almas were feeling pretty low. They told Apollyon "Let them Go!" She trails off as she shivers.
inits:
wolves
dahros
dlog
rick
skittles
ykka
"Well, you see it's like this. Apparently, after the Goblinblood Wars, this whole area was rife with plagues. When someone got sick, they would be sent outside of town. There was this big rock where the sick folks could leave money and a shopping list, and folks in town would leave goods. It's been years now, but I guess the name stuck..."
Keldaran stopped as a series of mournful howls erupted from the brush around you. Plants shook as a group of wolves burst from the underbrush around the trail. The patchy fur and deranged look showed you quite clearly that these creatures were having a hard time of it. Rick was the only one not caught completely flat-footed as the wolves attacked.
in bold my post
R1: rick, wolves, dahros, d'log, ykka, skittles
Rick springs into action as the howls begin, darting around the back of the rear wagon. "Eek! Wolves!" The screech barely escaped his throat as he spotted the mangy creatures. He immediately refocused to bark out a focus word as a vine stretches forth from his hand and swipes at the wolf furthest from the wagons, snagging it's lead paw.
Rick's spell summoned a vine that wrapped around the furthest wolf's foreleg. The mangy beast snapped and snarled, tugging at the vine as it stretched, trying to get to the wagons, or rather the food milling around the wagons. It ran into Dahros, instead. He dodges the attack, readying himself to respond, even as the other two wolves lunged at the horses pulling the last wagon.
R1: rick, wolves, dahros, d'log, ykka, skittles
R2: rick, wolves, dahros, d'log, ykka, skittles
Finally some action! the fighter thinks as he targets the wolf that Rick just slowed down with the vine. With all of his might he swings and buries the warhammer into the skull of the four legged foe.
With that wolf taken care of, Dahros spins to the south and turns his attention to the two remaining creatures. he tries to repeat his action, swinging his warhammer into the southern wolf.
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As Dahros engages with the first and second wolf, d'Log steps under the wagon to obscure the wolves line of sight
d'Log moves along the wagon wheels to appear next to wolf #1
Dahros has no question in his mind that he killed wolf #1.
Ykka moves north, following Dahros around the wagon. She starts playing and singing as she moves, "Bright is the moon high in starlight. Chill in the air cold as steel tonight. We shift. Call of the wild. Fear in your eyes. It's later than you realized." She puts some occult energy into the last two lines, so that her new party sees what she does and is inspired.
Inspire Courage provides a +1 status bonus to attack rolls, damage rolls, and saves against fear effects.
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d'Log shrugs at everyone dropping the wolves. He takes an over hand grip on one of his dog-slicers and an underhand grip on the other. Then he fakes a kick, then twirls and slams both blades into the wolf
(+2) if flat footed by the feint.
(+2) if flat footed by the feint.
Rick dove under a splash of wolf blood arcing out from Dahros's warhammer, whipping forth a ball of flame and lobbing it at the mangy creatures still snarling at his friends.
Dahros put his training to good use, and skewered the first wolf to come close. Spinning, he sliced into another wolf, which yelped and snapped at his blade. As it was distracted, d'Log popped out from under the wagon and drove his dogslicer into its belly. The aptly-named blade drove deep and killed the beast. Music filled the air as Ykka took up a rousing tune, lifting everyone's spirits and filling their minds with the thoughts of being in one of those epic masterpieces.
Flame and crossbow both missed as the remaining wolf spun to attack. The snapping jaws caught Dahros on the wrist, slicing through skin and tendon. Being that close, Dahros could see the fleas swarming over the wolf, and felt dozens jump across to him, crawling through the hair on his arm and infesting his armor. It wasn't a good feeling. In fact, it made him ill just thinking about it, and he itched already.
From behind, another pair of wolves crashed out of the underbrush. One was skinny and mangy like the others, but the second was much larger and looked in better condition. The scrawny one tentatively bit at Ykka, but darted back when the bard turned. The other one bounded up to Skittles and hunched its back. It's head lurched forward as it sprayed a thick stream of acidic bile all over Skittles and Rick, and onto the wagon as well. The wagon began to smoke and the acrid burning smell filled the air. Skittles and Rick began to smoke as well.
Dahros takes 6 damage and must make a DC 14 Fort save or be Sickened.
Rick and Skittles need to make me a DC 16 Reflex save or take 13 damage. Remember the basic rules for saves:
R2: rick, wolves, dahros, d'log, ykka, skittles
R3: rick, wolves, dahros, d'log, ykka, skittles
current status:
dahros 14/20 (sickened?)
d'log 19/19
rick 16/16 (save?)
skittles 18/18 (save?)
ykka 18/18
wolf1 dead
wolf2 dead
wolf3 -0
big wolf -0
Rick, caught unaware as the new wolves approach, ducked under a stream of acid bile only to catch flecks and spray across his chest. He snarl-shrieked in response, glaring daggers at the newcomers.
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d'Log, satisfied with his kill, arches his shoulders back and nods for a good deed, sheathing one of the dogslicers, d'Log hears the sounds of his siblings eating and turns with glee, Brothers, what are you doing he..... but it wasn't his brothers eating, it was the wolf puking. d'Log scowls.
Really? I think these wolves are so mangy and skinny because they discard perfectly good food!
d'Log takes his trusty mirror out of his bandolier, and takes a quick glance at the sun. d'Log moves towards Maama wolf and angles the mirror to force the sun rays directly into the wolf's eyes.
Right when the light hits the wolf's eye, d'Log aims to take a slice of the wolf's shoulder with his dogslicer.
(+2) if flat footed
Whatever that wolf did to him cause his stomach to twist into knots. Gagging, he feels something about to come up and he turns to the side and vomits all over the wheel of the carriage. Spitting the bile from his mouth, he stumbles forward to the next wolf and swings his warhammer into it.
"Ugh. Stupid wolves!" he curses, spitting again.
Ykka pauses her song to mutter a few words as her bow hand disappears in pale darkness. She reaches out to touch the wolf and draw away some of it's life. She then resumes her song.
Cantrip 1
Attack, Auditory, Cantrip, Necromancy, Negative, Occult
Traditions: Occult
Cast: [2] focus
Range: touch
Targets: 1 living or undead creature
Saving Throw: Fortitude Save
DC: 17
Siphoning negative energy into yourself, your hand radiates a pale darkness. Your touch weakens the living and disorients undead, possibly even causing them to flee. The effect depends on whether the target is living or undead.
• Living Creature: The spell deals negative damage equal to 1d4 plus your spellcasting modifler. The target attempts a basic Fortitude save, but is also enfeebled 1 for 1 round on a critical failure.
• Undead Creature: The target is flat-footed for 1 round on a failed Fortitude save. On a critical failure, the target is also fleeing for 1 round unless it succeeds at a Will save.
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The gnome may have had her eyes on her original target, but her ears ever listening were not surprised by the creature sneaking up behind. She quickly darted to the side, totally avoiding the acid spray. She then Reaches into her pouch, pulling out a bottle of fluid and shoves it down Rick's throat.
"Here drink this and keep at it. Looks like i have more work to do" as she eyes up Dahros next.
Rick chokes down the fluid spilling over his face, unsure at first what to expect. Feeling warmth radiate lightly through him he managed to cough out a rushed "thanks Sugarbuns!"
Turning his attention back to the alpha wolf he flicks one wrist in its direction while stirring his other in a circular motion. A few unintelligible syllables punctuate the end of his stirring motions. A gout of flame shoots forth shortly followed by a pool of greasy oil appearing underneath the wolf.
Skittles scurried out from the stream of acid completely, but Rick only barely missed the worst of it. His wounds were pretty bad, so Skittles popped the top on a potion and held it to his lips. As Rick drank, he could feel some of his wounds mending. Dahros raked the fleas off of him, then sluggishly swung at the mangy wolf that had bitten him He connected, and the beast went down with a yelp. D'Log turned and rushed the big wolf, blinding it momentarily and driving his dogslicer deep into the creature's neck. Rick managed to singe the lead wolf quie badly before placing a slippery puddle of grease beneath the creature. It managed to keep its feet, though, being very agile and sure-footed.
The large wolf struck back. With only d'Log in range, the beast ripped into the goblin, grabbing a leg and lifting him into the air before flinging him to the ground. The other wolf bit deeply into Ykka's leg, and she grew nauseous as a wave fleas swarmed onto her.
d'Log takes 3 damage and is prone
Ykka takes 5 damage and must make a DC 14 Fort save or be Sickened 1 from the flea infestation. You can spend an interact action to scratch away the fleas and remove the condition.
R3: rick, wolves, dahros, d'log, ykka, skittles
R4: rick, wolves, dahros, d'log, ykka, skittles
current status:
dahros 14/20
d'log 16/19 (prone)
rick 10/16
skittles 18/18
ykka 13/18 (sickened 1)
wolf1 dead
wolf2 dead
wolf3 dead
big wolf -23
Having put down a third wolf, Dahros spins just in time to see the goblin get airborne and then slammed into the ground. Dahros cringes from the impact and then begins to stride purposefully towards the large wolf. "His jokes are bad, but not bad enough you get to do that!" he shouts at the creature before swinging his warhammer into it.
Hearing the sounds of combat on the other side of the wagon, he shouts "Ykka! You okay over there?"
Ykka shakes off the nausea and starts playing something softer. Skittles recognizes the gnomish lullaby almost immediately and smiles.
Hearing the sounds of battle on the far side of the wagons, Ykka calls out, "can I get a little help over here? Bugs are crawling all over me!"
ENCHANTMENT INCAPACITATION MENTAL SLEEP
Traditions arcane, occult
Cast [two-actions] somatic, verbal
Range 30 feet; Area 5-foot burst
Saving Throw - DC 17 Will
Each creature in the area becomes drowsy and might fall asleep. A creature that falls unconscious from this spell doesn’t fall prone or release what it’s holding. This spell doesn’t prevent creatures from waking up due to a successful Perception check, limiting its utility in combat.
Critical Success - The creature is unaffected.
Success - The creature takes a –1 status penalty to Perception checks for 1 round.
Failure - The creature falls unconscious. If it’s still unconscious after 1 minute, it wakes up automatically.
Critical Failure - The creature falls unconscious. If it’s
Dahros leaped in and slashed a gaping wound in the large wolf's back, even as d'Log lunged up from the ground. Between them, they killed the wounded wolf pack leader. The other wolf was falling to the ground, asleep under the influence of Ykka's spell, when Skittle's crossbow bolt buried itself in the mangy creature's neck. The wolf didn't even let out a sound as it passed quickly from sleep to death.
The wolves were in bad condition, as was evident as you looked closer at the bodies. Not only were they infested with fleas, but all of them looked to be in the throes of a bad case of mange. The pelts were worthless.
Looking around, you saw that though the wolves had focused their attack on the rear wagon, the horses for all of the caravan's wagons were terrified. While none had managed to bolt completely, the fourth wagon was half off the road, stuck in a deep rut, with the horses' traces tangled in the underbrush at the side of the road. Other than some bumps and bruises from trying to keep the horses from running off, it seems that you were the only ones to take any significant damage.
Bort moved among the wagons, checking to make sure everyone was okay, and to make sure none of the wagons was damaged.
"Well, I can't thank you enough for stepping up back here. The drovers had a hard enough time keeping the animals in check, and wouldn't have been able to do anything about the wolves. I'd say you earned your passage back, sure enough. No telling how many horses we'd have lost without your weapons and spellcraft. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart."
"I know some of you got hurt and all, but if we can't get Ulf's wagon back on the road, we're never going to make Etram's folly by sundown. And with these wolves about...well, let's just say I'd rather not overnight here. What do you say? Care to lend a hand...or a stout pair of legs?"
Rick smiles and accepts Bort's gratitude and thanks.
"I'm sure our strong heroes would be more than willing to assist, right guys and gals? No wolf too big, no task too small.." Rick trails off as he walks over to help with the stuck wagon. With a flourish and a flash of a smile, he crested the top of the hill and began his descent only to trip and roll down into a stuck wagon wheel.
"A hand anyone? Where is mighty Dahros Wolfblight?"
Ykka looks down at the dead wolf, fully aware how badly that could have gone. I need to get quicker or stay out of the way! She stows her fiddle and moves over to thanks Skittles for putting it down. When Rick tries to help move the wagon, she chuckles and joins him, "I might be more help playing a jaunty song, but let's see if we can figure this out."
Rick grunts as he ineffectively puts his back into pushing the wagon.
"Whew. Is this oak??"
Dahros watches all of the vertically challenged people try to lift the wagon and refrains from chuckling. At least they all have good hearts in them! he thinks as he walks over and puts his back into the effort.
Dahros watches all of the little creatures try to lift the wagon and just rolls his eyes. God help them all if they if ever needed to lift something to save their lives. Looking back at the wagon, he nods satisfied that he's moved it enough.
"No problem Bort, we don't want to have to stay here any longer than we have to either. Let's get a move on before one of my traveling companions pulls a muscle."
Almost everyone jumped in to help unstick the wagon. The thing was loaded with merchandise, and very heavy. It took all your effort, plus that of the drovers, to get the wheels straightened out and push the wagon back onto the road. It was especially hard on the smaller folk, and both Skittles and Rick were exhausted by the effort. Still, you got the wagon back on the road and Ulf and Olf hitched the now calm horses back up to the device.
As you get the wagon situated, d'Log scouts around the area, keeping a sharp eye out for any more danger. He doesn't find any, though he does spot a beautiful bird with red and gold wings on an otherwise glossy black body.
Fortunately, it is only an hour or so until you see Etram's Folly - Plaguestone - in the distance. You arrive at the town a few hours before dusk, and all of the wagons head for the Feedmill, the only inn and tavern in the small community. As you drive through the edge of town, you look around to see what kind of place you have come to stop in. Most of the simple wood-and-thatch homes in Etran’s Folly look identical to one another and are in a similar state of disrepair. A number of the houses clearly look abandoned, their roofs collapsed.
As you pass through the middle of town, the wagons go around the ancient plaguestone, a large, flat, cylindrical rock standing 2 feet high, with a hole in its center and a bowl-shaped depression off to one side. Bort called back "When the plague ran rampant, the townsfolk left food for the sick in the bowl, while the sick left coins in the center hole (which was filled with vinegar to cleanse the coinage of contamination). Pretty slick setup, if you ask me." Today, the stone is nothing more than a moss-covered relic, though if Ulf can be believed, it has lent its nickname to the town itself.
Finally, Bort led the lead wagon into the stables at the Feedmill. It must be a place of frequent stops by caravans, because the stables paddock was as large as the inn itself, easily fitting all six of your wagons, and the dray animals. The stable mistress was a young halfling named Edra Wythe, and she promised to take good care of both the horses and the wagons. Bort told Ulf and Olf to share watches on the goods, and then led you into the boistrous noise of the Feedmill.
Dahros checks to see if there are any coins in the sick bowl, you know, in case he might want to point some in himself. Leaving the horses to those two with rhyming names, he makes his way to wherever the hot meals and beverages are.
Having spent time serving in a militia in the past, the travel on the road, brief encounters and heavy lifting were all just in a days work. Happy to finally to be able to take a brief break, he takes a seat a table and orders a round of drinks for his companions at the large inn.