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Post by Kai Wren on May 7, 2019 19:06:08 GMT
Caravan work. It wasn’t fun, it wasn’t glamorous, but it was always something that would pay the bills. Miri, Warden, Echo and Crucible have all been travelling with Henry Finch’s caravan for the past few days. He’s just doing a quick check-in on his business investment over in Wellholm, and then it’ll be right back to Waterdeep. Shouldn’t be more than a week as a round trip, and he’s paying the princely sum of 5 gold pieces per day, each, plus food and lodgings in Wellholm. The village itself was little more than a glorified hamlet, really. Only glorified in the sense that it has a waterwheel, which is what Mr. Finch has invested in so heavily. Two dozen families spread out over a series of rolling fields fed by the river; a population split fairly evenly between fishing and farming, with the ‘fanciest’ of the lot being the blacksmith and general store owner. It was the kind of tiny village that made up the majority of lives in Faerun. The kind of place where nothing ever happened and nobody of import ever visited. The very fact that the group consisted of such a varied and motley assortment of races meant that they were bound to cause quite a stir, but that was to be expected. It might even be enough to get them free drinks, if they were good at telling stories. Only, they haven’t quite made it to the village yet. Though they’re fully expecting to in the next few hours. The road follows the river, and that makes it a pleasant enough journey; the weather has been fine, and so far they’ve had no need to earn their keep. On the road, a Priest is approaching the caravan. A young human man, watery-eyed, in his mid-to-late teens most likely, with a patchy brown beard, hair which seems to be made entirely of cowlicks, dressed in faded blue-green robes and a silver wave pendant worn about his neck. “H-H-Ho there, tr-travellers!” He stammered out as he approached, holding his arms up in the most non-threatening manner possible. “W-W-Where are you h-headed?” moralhazard Jarovbees Kestrel 3personal5me |
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Jarovbees
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Post by Jarovbees on May 7, 2019 19:18:15 GMT
Warden was a little nervous about traveling to Wellholm, though she did her best to keep that buried deep inside. Waterdeep wasn't always kind to tieflings and it was a large, cosmopolitan city. How much worse might it be in a tiny hamlet? But the pay was good, too good to pass up when it was sorely needed. Being part of a vigilante group was certainly satisfying, but it didn't always pay well and she needed to keep her equipmentin good repair in addition to food and lodging.
So, it was what it was. Warden didn't know the other hirelings well, or at all really, but that didn't mean she was going to be antisocial. She did her best to remain approachable, especially in terms of work, but if there was time for a card game or drink...well, she was't going to say no. After all, she had met many others who didn't care about her heritage in the slightest. Maybe these folk would be among them.
Without the energy and sounds of the city surrounding her, Warden felt a little off-kilter anyway but tried to focus on the positives. The weather was good, and she supposed it wasn't unpleasant to be out in some fresh air for a while. The lack of action was not a highlight, though; the tiefling woman relished a good fight, and so far there hadn't been one. That had to change, sooner or later.
She leveled her gaze at the priest, suspecting he would probably do better with someone else inclined to be intimidating...but fuck it, that wouldn't stop her from speaking up anyway. Her tone was brusque but not hostile, waiting to see how he replied before getting on friendlier terms. "We're going to Wellholm. Is there a problem?"
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Post by moralhazard on May 7, 2019 19:35:55 GMT
Several days earlier…
“Come on, Blackstone,” Henry Hookhand was half-falling out of his seat at the bar. He grabbed at the wood with both of his hands – well, his hand and his hook. The metal scraped against the wood, leaving a deep scratch in it, and held, keeping him precariously upright.
“No,” Miri grinned at him. “No way, Hookhand. I just got to Waterdeep – after months at sea. Months! No way I’m leaving this city before I’ve had…” she paused, significantly, and winked at him, “fun.” Cheerfully, Miri raised the shot glass sitting on the bar, and, in an impressive feat of dexterity considering the number of glasses empty in front of her, knocked it back. The pale silk orange handkerchief tied around her torso shifted and, miraculously, stayed in place.
“Blackstone,” Henry hiccupped, looking at her. “Miri. Please. I’m begging you. My life in your – your hands,” he hiccupped again. “My life! Miri, if you do this for me – I will fall on the ground and kiss your feet. I will be yours, forever – in your debt. Your slave. Do with me what you will,” he hiccupped again.
Miri laughed. The room was spinning, weirdly, and she propped an elbow on the bar to keep her (mostly) upright. “I’m not saying no, except – no. No way I’m doing anything that means leaving Waterdeep.” She glanced around the tavern room, spying, immediately, several lovely people who she thought she might like to get to know better. All of whom she would much prefer to do with what she would over Henry Hookhand.
“Please,” Henry’s hook was still balancing him semi-upright, but his free hand scrabbled for her. “I need you, Miri. I need you like I’ve never needed anyone before. Just this one thing – just a few minutes of your time, then a week out of town.” He paused, and hiccupped again. “I’ll owe you a favor. Two favors.”
Miri wasn’t so drunk that those words failed to register. Slowly, curiously, her gaze came to rest back on Henry. “Two favors?” She grinned at him, even white teeth flashing in her dark face.
Henry blanched, but swallowed, and then nodded. “Two – two favors. Anything you want, Miri. I’m begging.”
Miri’s grin widened. “… I’ll think about it,” she allowed. “But what the hell would I do for a week away from Waterdeep? Can’t lose money there, you know.”
“I’ve got it – I’ve got it,” Henry nodded, intently. “Look, just the other day I heard about some shmuck, Henry Finch, looking for caravan guards. Real easy trip – week round trip, five gold pieces a day, just a quick jaunt to Wellholm and back. Easy money. Really it’s one of the favors, me just letting you know about this.”
“No it’s not,” Miri said, cheerfully.
Henry swallowed, hard, and nodded. “No it’s not,” he mumbled his agreement.
“Well then,” Miri turned her hand in his sweaty grasp, clasping tightly. She grinned. “We have an agreement. A few minutes of my time to help you catch this bounty,” she pulled her hand back from Henry’s, wiped it surreptitiously on her tight leather pants, and winked at him, “a week out of Waterdeep to sell whatever your story is, and two favors owed. It’s a deal.”
“It’s a deal.” Henry agreed.
On the whole, once she had gotten through two straight days of hangover, Miri had rather enjoyed the whole caravan guard gig. She was on land – a nice change of pace – her companions were interesting, and she was excellent at telling stories, which usually meant she was a hit in these sorts of small towns. Miri was looking forward to the end of the road, maybe a nice long bath – she hoped they’d have hot water – and a few drinks. Well, maybe more than a few. Maybe having a little alcohol in her veins would help the tiefling relax a bit; Miri had found her a pleasant enough companion for a bit of card-playing, if not the most outgoing of companions. That title, surely, had to be reserved for Echo, who Miri had taken to immediately Miri was whistling faintly as they strolled along, a pleasant sea shanty that had been stuck in her head since the Blood Red Rose. She wore her studded leather, naturally – a new find in Waterdeep, and one she was very happy with. Her rapier swung at one hip, her short swords were crossed over her back, and her daggers were tucked away – strategically. Her shortbow and the rest of her things were tucked securely away in one of the wagons, except for a few bits and pieces stashed on her person. Miri preferred never to carry more than seemed absolutely necessary, not when she could talk someone else in carrying or hauling it for her. Miri’s whistling faded to nothing as the priest approached. She glanced over at Echo, raising an are-you-seeing-this sort of eyebrow, and grinned in a friendly, cheerful manner at the Priest, hands loose at her sides. Warden had been kind enough to jump in, so Miri didn’t see much point, cocking her head curiously to the side. |
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Post by 3personal5me on May 8, 2019 14:41:46 GMT
Crucible marched behind the cart, acting as a sort of rear guard. Marching was certainly the correct word. He was reminded of his days in the army, marching for miles without stopping to eat or drink. The benefits of a mechanical military. He found it almost comforting at times to march, being presented with a challenge that could be handled by simply taking enough steps.
But it seemed there was a small disruption ahead. As the caravan slowed, he made his way around its bulk to see what was going on.
A priest, a boy by the looks of it. Innocent enough, he supposed. Alternatively, a good distraction.
(just going to be an Insight check from me)
02qLxcFT1d20+5 1d20+5 |
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Kestrel
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Post by Kestrel on May 8, 2019 21:03:24 GMT
Echo prodded at her bowl of stew, jostling the spoon, and watched as it danced around the bits of cabbage and meat inside. She hummed.
“…you sure?”
The tabaxi looked up. The Notch common room was mostly empty – it was still too early in the morning for even the thirstiest of drunks to wallow in their drinks – except for an old lady who stood behind the bar counter Echo sat at. She was busy wiping away at a score of glass mugs and stacking them on a nearby shelf. She paused, though, and placed a meaty hand on her wide hips, her wrinkled face creasing as she turned and scowled at Echo.
“Have I ever done you wrong before, girl? Quit your fussing and get on with it! Honestly. I won’t have you wallowing away in that stew all morning. Its as cold as a winter night by now.”
Echo stopped her prodding, pushed the bowl away, and sighed. She was right: the tabaxi had only managed a few bites and she had been sitting there for some time. Her appetite was long gone. It had been, for a little while now. Echo rubbed her neck and gave a half-hearted smile.
“I’m sorry, Agnes. I really am. I’m just…y’know? I have to be careful now about showing my face anywhere.”
The owner and matron of the Notch clicked her tongue. Her warm, brown eyes softened as she took the bowl away from Echo and dumped what was left out a window. She then wiped her hands on a stained leather apron, adjusted her tangled bun of sparse auburn hair, and planted them on the counter.
“I know, girl…I know. I heard about what happened at the Jade Dancer. You okay? The owners aren’t hassling you over it, I hope?”
Echo leaned on the counter, tucking her cheek into one hand, and scratched at the wood with a single claw from her other. Her stomach felt queasy. What had happened at the Jade Dancer was…it was bad. Really bad. The treasure hunter winced as she stretched and felt pain radiate from her back, the injury there still fresh underneath a bundle of bandages. Her smile had faded.
“Nah. We’re good, I think. We just, uh, both agreed that I should maybe stay away for a while. In case they, like, come back or something.”
She really should have seen it coming. All of it. She probably would have, too, if she was back in Baldur’s Gate still. She would have, or Wisp would have, or they both would have like they always did. Or usually did, at least. It just…it had been a heck of a long time since Echo had met with Lady A. Too long. Long enough that everything had seemed safe and okay and normal. But…that was no longer true, was it? The Jade Dancer thing was proof of that. Echo hummed again and tugged at her scarf, her eyes trailing down to the mask at her hip. She bit her lower lip. She was getting rusty.
What would her old partner say to that?
“Hey, Agnes. Actually? Maybe I…maybe I should go away for a bit. Just to be safe. You can rent out my room while I’m gone and I’m sure there’s, like, other performers and- “
Echo yelped as something hard and cold rapped against the knuckles of her free hand. She jerked back, shook it in the air, and looked up at Agnes, eyes wide and mouth open. The innkeeper was holding a large soup ladle and frowned back.
“None of that, girl! You hear me? None of that. You best come straight back here when it’s done.”
“She’s right, ya know! Ya bring in too much business with that flute an dancin an singin a yours!”
The treasure hunter’s ears twitched as a door slammed shut behind her and she tilted her head to the side. An old man, with even more wrinkles than Agnes and only a thin wisp of gray hair, had stomped in from the outside with an armful of freshly cut logs and sticks. He tossed them into a pile by the unlit fireplace and slapped his hands together. He gave Echo a toothless grin, though Agnes’ brows only furrowed more.
“What that fool Hader really means to say is you’re a spot of sunshine in this old place, girl. One we’ve been missing for too long. You’re as much a part of the Notch now as my trout pies, and you ought to accept that here and now.”
Agnes’ husband sauntered over and sat down next to Echo, placing a firm hand on the tabaxi’s shoulder, as his wife slammed her ladle against the counter. She brandished it like a sword as the metal still rang.
“Your place is here, girl! And if any blasted gnoll walks in through that there door, I’ll give the pup a good beating they won’t soon forget! The Notch takes care of its own.”
Echo looked at Agnes, then at Hader, and then back to Agnes, and then grinned wide. She giggled and swished her tail.
“Fine! You win. With a promise like that how could I say no?”
The tabaxi pointed a clawed finger from one innkeeper to the other.
“But, like, promise me you’ll be careful, at least? I’m not sure if they know that I stay here, but…I gotta assume they do. Just in case.”
Hader clapped Echo on the back, stood, and then walked over to begin arranging the fireplace. Agnes placed the soup ladle back onto the counter but waved her hand.
“Don’t you worry about us, now. We’ve been through worse before. We’ll be through worse yet.”
The older lady went back to cleaning mugs. Echo, stomach settling and ears perked, leaned over the counter with both arms now and listened.
“You just worry about getting on over to Daggerford. My cousin there can get you a place to stay – just tell her I sent you. She can introduce you to that wizard I told you about, too. He’ll know best where to search for that key of yours.”
Agnes glanced over.
“But if it helps ease that fussing mind of yours – a fellow came in the other day, looking for folks to protect a caravan of his. Seemed a decent sort. Good pay, too. He was heading to Wellholm which isn’t far from Daggerford. Might be a fine way to cover your tracks.”
The innkeeper’s eyes seemed to sparkle at that, though it could have been a trick of the morning sunlight. Echo blinked. Agnes was back to wiping her mugs. Something told her there was more to Agnes and Hader than it seemed. Something more than just being a couple of crochety old innkeepers. She shook her head. Either way, that…that sounded like a plan. A good plan. The tabaxi placed a hand across her chest. She felt the bulge of the map tucked away underneath her vest. The sooner she could find the key, the sooner she could go after the map, and the sooner she could put all of this behind her. The sooner she would be out of danger. Echo tightened her scarf, pushed off the counter, and slid off her stool. She landed on her feet with a thud and a skip. Agnes looked over and raised a brow.
“So, girl…tell me. Where you off to now?”
Echo gave her a toothy grin. She shrugged.
“To go pack, I guess.”
The trip was…kinda boring so far, honestly!
It had been easy for her to get hired on back in Waterdeep as a performer: caravan work seemed unpopular (she knew why, now!) and someone who could sing and play an instrument was apparently pretty valuable on long journeys for moral and stuff. Probably since, like, literally everything else was the worst. The mud. The swarms of bugs. The cold nights. The endless hours of walking and walking and still more walking. The fact she could also swing a sword and shoot straight was just an added bonus. Still! Agnes had been right. The caravan was making great progress, they were getting close to Wellholm and Daggerford, and she had seen not even a peep from the gnoll or any of its goons. Either they had no idea she was even there, or they were afraid of openly attacking the caravan.
That, and the other adventurers with her probably helped.
Echo ran, jumped up onto the wagon, and swung herself around one of its beams. She grinned. The caravan may have been boring, and dull, and awful, and even more boring, but at least the company had been alright. Other than Mr. Finch man himself, their employer, three others had been hired on. One was the ever-familiar Crucible. The metal man seemed to, like, always show up whenever the tabaxi got involved in something. Not that she was complaining. The warforged could bash heads and melt faces and shoot sparkly beams of light and that, uh, was a good thing to have on their side! She knew that firsthand. There was also Warden. She seemed okay – Echo had never understood why people were so afraid of tielfings and their awesome horns, and they had shared a couple conversations already. Her favorite, though? By far was Miri. The lady had…honestly scared the heck out of her the first time they had met. Loud, drank like a dried kuo-toa in a river, and armed with more weapons than the tabaxi had claws and teeth. Yikes! But she was also super, super fun, and had been the only other person in the caravan to even come close to matching Echo’s incessant chatter. She gave Miri a wave and whistled a few extra notes to her tune.
The caravan, though, soon slowed down. Echo hopped off the wagon and joined Miri. A man, a really young human, had stumbled toward them from the other side of the road and seemed to be stammering something at Warden. He wore faded robes and a silver pendant thing was wrapped around his neck. A priest, maybe? All the way out here? Echo met Miri’s look, shrugged, and then glanced around them. Their tiefling seemed to have it handled.
Echo, though?
She was no caravan guard. She was, like, basically the opposite of a guard. She stole stuff! Or used to, at least. But she still knew how things like this sometimes worked: someone stumbled in, got the attention of everyone in a room, and then ten more people stumbled in with weapons drawn and carved everyone else up into minced meat. It was a tactic street gangs often used in Baldur’s Gate. It was kinda a tactic her and Wisp sometimes used while stealing, just…without the killing part. It was even something, she faintly remembered, that the troupe had been cautious about on the open road.
Echo fingered the crossbow on her back with one hand and shielded her eyes from the sun with the other. Better check things out, just to be safe.
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Echo's gonna make a perception check and scope out the area around the caravan, if that's okay!
Perception check: W8AW7sce1d20+4
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Post by Kai Wren on May 9, 2019 6:41:37 GMT
Mr. Finch raised his hand in greeting to the priest, with a friendly, “Well met, young man.” But he seemed content to let his guards do the talking; pleased to see that they were keeping an eye out and not ready to let the caravan be ambushed. Priests rarely had the coin to interest him, but it was bad luck to offend them, so regardless of his misgivings about the opportunity, he brought the caravan to a halt rather than let his horses pull them past the young man.
To his credit, he didn’t seem too concerned about Warden’s appearance; nor did he come across to Crucible as though he had anything to hide. He was a bit nervous, a little shaken, perhaps, but not the herald of some dire ambush. Echo certainly saw no signs of anyone hiding in wait. There was a large, brightly coloured bird flying in the sky above though – that was very pretty.
“P-problem? I, don’t know if I’d say th-that.” The young man said, fingering the symbol around his neck as he spoke. “But they aren’t f-friendly. I was hoping you m-might be heading on to D-D-Daggerford, I thought, th-there they m-might not be so r-rude.”
Henry scoffed at those words, and rolled his eyes.
“Boy, I don’t know what you did, but I’ve never had any problems in Wellholme. They’re a bit of a backwater, but they’re pleasant enough folk if you don’t mind the muttering.”
The Priest shook his head quickly.
“I thi-think it has ch-changed since you were l-last there M-Master C-Caravaneer. People’re, angry. Unfriendly. Y-Your friends m-might not get such a w-warm welcome.”
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Jarovbees
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Post by Jarovbees on May 9, 2019 15:22:05 GMT
"Why is that? What exactly is happening there? Let us be the judge of what we can handle."
Warden tried not to sound aggressive, but nonetheless remained as forthright -some might say blunt- as ever. Her group had been traveling and if there was reason to believe that the stop ahead would be no sanctuary for them, they had every right to know. She settled her gaze on the priest, raising an eyebrow and waiting for him to elaborate on such ominous words. The warning wasn't unappreciated, but they needed more to go on.
Persuasion?: COFL0x_h1d20+31d20+3
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Post by moralhazard on May 9, 2019 16:24:09 GMT
Warden was as quick on the draw as she had been before, and just as blunt as ever. She took her name seriously, Miri guessed. Miri couldn’t prove that Warden had chosen the name herself, but she would cheerfully bet money on it.
Maybe she could talk Echo into taking the bet.
Miri weighed intervening, then held off. No need to pile on. Instead, she turned a more practiced eye to the priest himself, checking him over throughly, to see whether she could spot anything interesting on his clothing and accessories, or any marks on him. Might be he wouldn’t want to admit to more physical trouble, but it’d be best for them to know of it.
Perception (?) roll: hH8EZdBk1d20+21d20+2
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Kestrel
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Post by Kestrel on May 10, 2019 19:04:05 GMT
That…that…that was a really pretty bird! Echo leaned back as far as she could (which, for her, was pretty dang far!), mouth open, and watched as it flew over them. She squinted. It was big, had lots and lots of brightly colored feathers, and its silhouette almost seemed to glitter against the sun. Super pretty! Echo purred and swished her tail. Cat Lord, she loved birds. Robins were her favorite of course, but she had yet to see any kind of bird that was not beautiful or funny or comforting in its own way. Sparrows. Hawks. Hummingbirds. Doves. Like, all the birds! Birds were great! The treasure hunter sighed, stood straight again, and then placed her hands on her hips. She looked around.
What was she doing again?
Oh, right! The priest! Echo scratched at her neck. Their pleasant tiefling was still locked in conversation with the man, now accompanied by their employer, while both Miri and metal man Crucible were staring really…really intently at him. Why? Who knew! There was nothing even close to interesting about the guy as far as the tabaxi was concerned. Especially, like, if there were cool birds flying around. And there was! Still, she had a job to do. She was a caravan guard, after all. Sort of.
Echo skipped and bounced on over to Warden, Finch, and the strange priest. As she approached, she caught the tail end of Warden’s response and…talking was maybe not her thing! It had sounded a bit harsh. Or maybe more than a bit. A lot. A lot of harsh actually. Tightening her scarf and flashing a grin, Echo stepped up next to the tiefling.
“I, uh, think what she means to say is we need more information than that. Lots more! I got really angry at a cloud this morning, but I’m not about to be mean to strangers over it.”
The cloud had…it had looked like a fish. A big slimy, wet, gross fish. She still had nightmares over the whole magical lake fishing trip thing!
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Persuasion check to assist Warden!
Persuasion check: j0GTkE2Y1d20+5
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Post by Kai Wren on May 11, 2019 20:31:23 GMT
The priest opened his mouth, and then closed it again, several times. There was something deeply unsettling about the fact that the cat-person had gotten angry about a cloud, but whilst that disrupted his train of thought, it also meant that when he resumed it again, it was with a greater degree of clarity.
“Well.” He said, taking a step backwards so that he could address all of the people talking to him at once, “I, I d-don’t know a-all the d-details. I don’t think a-anyone knows all of t-them, really.” He paused, “W-well, ex-ex-except the ones who d-did it, I, I suppose…”
He seemed to realise, after a moment, that what he just said was entirely useless to the people who were now quizzing him with an enhanced degree of interest, and he cleared his throat, fingers running over his holy symbol again as he considered where to begin.
“From w-what I understand, some p-p-people have gone missing l-lately, and, th-th-there are other p-people who have s-started to act, out of sorts.”
He shrugged his shoulders expansively.
“I, I w-was go-going to file a r-report with the ch-church when I f-find someone who c-can get a message out, but, if s-something strange is g-going on, I wouldn’t, I mean, y-you look like, capable, s-sorts…”
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Jarovbees
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Post by Jarovbees on May 11, 2019 21:09:05 GMT
"We are, yes." Warden glanced over to the others. "I don't want to speak for anyone else, but missing people is an issue I'd gladly investigate. It would help to have more details, though. Even if you don't know everything, whatever else you can share would still help a lot. How many people are missing and when did that happen? And what do you mean by 'out of sorts?'"
That last one could mean all sorts of issues; a curse, a hidden enemy manipulating them with magic, or just the stress of having friends and family vanish. There was no way of knowing for certain unless they investigated, but answers could help narrow down the options. Warden was already curious, and she hoped not to be the only one.
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Post by moralhazard on May 12, 2019 0:07:32 GMT
Miri grinned and raised a friendly eyebrow at Warden when the tiefling looked her way, giving her a little ‘go ahead’ nod. She couldn’t tell if Echo had made things better or worse, but the two of them had gotten something out of the priest in the end.
People missing and others out of sorts. Miri inspected her fingernails, carefully, and glanced sidelong at Finch, subtly checking for his response. He had scoffed at the priest - but was it a coincidence that he had brought along four unusual guards on this journey? Well, probably.
Still, it seemed likely that all this supposed trouble might well affect Finch’s Wellholm waterwheel, and that would make it Miri’s business too. Providing, of course, he would be willing to.. ah... encourage them to stay and help him sort it all out.
“Did they blame you, lad?” Miri asked, voice low and friendly. She smiled at him, as if whatever inspection she had made of him, he’d passed with flying colors. “There’s no shame if so. Fear makes most folks stupid. Tell us what you know; you’ll fulfill whatever promises you made to yourself, and it might be we can do something about it, like she said.” She nodded towards Warden.
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Post by Kai Wren on May 16, 2019 21:03:00 GMT
The priest shook his head at Miri’s suggestion, and gave a nervous little laugh.
“Oh, n-n-no.” He said, “At l-least, not, m-most of them. Th-th-this has been g-g-oing on a wh-while by all accounts.”
He shrugged his shoulders, clearly starting to regret that he’d begun this conversation, but now that he had, he needed to go on with it. “Th-the innkeep, J-Jorah, he, s-said that things h-had been s-strange for m-months, and th-the first disappearance happened nearly half a y-y-year ago.”
He cast a look up to Mr. Finch.
“W-when were you l-last there, Mr. C-Caravaneer?”
The merchant frowned deeply at that question. His expression darkened considerably.
“About half a year back.” He said, “I try to check on my investments every six months or so.”
He stroked his chin, musing on this fact. From his puzzled expression, it didn’t seem like the disappearance or anything strange had been brought to his attention when he’d passed through…
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Post by 3personal5me on May 16, 2019 21:50:01 GMT
Crucible looked to the merchant. It was unlikely that his arrival, or departure, should be related to what was happening. It was still an odd coincidence, however. "Well, I believe it is our moral duty to solve this problem".
He was never one to turn down a challenge, nor turn his back one those in need. If that meant working with a team or alone, he would do what he could.
He looked around, af group he traveled with. He was sure they would back him up.
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Jarovbees
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Post by Jarovbees on May 16, 2019 22:31:47 GMT
Half a year ago. Warden frowned in thought, crossing her arms. The coincidence didn't go unnoticed on her end either, but without any evidence to go by, she certainly wasn't going to make accusations. Something was off, though, even if it wasn't related to that. The notion of ignoring it didn't sit well with her, so she glanced over to Crucible and nodded. At least someone else was on the same wavelength, more or less. As always, she chafed at the notion of being bound by anything except her oath, but the warforged didn't need to know that, let alone why. She was far more interested in the task at hand than explaining herself.
"I wasn't going to say 'duty' but yeah, I'll join an investigation. These people deserve to know what in the Nine Hells is going on...and I'm curious, to be honest."
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