As the party exists in various states of recovery (or unconsciousness) the two guards seem content to wait for you all to decide it is time to leave the bar, although you get the feeling they would prefer it be sooner rather than later.
Raff, the sword is in fact one of your brother's blades - there's no denying the craftsmanship, nor the stamp on the bottom of the leather grip. Seeing it separated from its owner does not fill you with confidence regarding your brother's fate.
Fenrir, the Wolf chooses this moment to return. Too many people paying attention to you in this city. The sooner we get out of here, the better.
Enri, a long history of knowing when to leave and when to stay is coming in useful. Namely, you're getting the feeling that the longer you stick near the scene of the fight, the more attention you'll draw to yourself.
Talindra, the blackness of unconsciousness is broken only by the chiding voice of your patron. "Do try to stay alive, young one. My pride is on the line here, plus I'd have to do a silly dance. I don't want to do a silly dance."
Mortimer, you're uh... well, that certainly was a fight, wasn't it? It seems like this will probably happen a lot.
Having seen to the thugs' relative safety and wellbeing, in the most technical sense, Mortimer wipes his hands off on one of their shirts and returns to the group. He heads to Enri and pokes Talindra with a toe. "Should we get her to a room? She should wake up in an hour or so as long as nothing else knocks her around."
"Yeah, let's...let's do that." says Enri, clearly in need of a rest himself. "Let's get a place to rest, and then let's get provisioned and get the hells out of this city."
In a stunning turn of events, your relatively brief walk to your quarters is entirely peaceful and quiet. Raff, you don't notice anything amiss on your way back, but you are, admittedly, probably a little distracted by the feel of your brother's sword - and the question of where its twin is.
((Does anyone have anything else they want to do before you all finally get a long rest?))
Somehow, the party manages to have a restful night. Well, restful might be a relative term - those of you from cooler climates are still bothered by the god-awful humidity - but hey, Raff sleeps like a baby! As the light of the morning breaks into your rooms, you're left with the all important question: What are you going to do, and also, where did you say you'd meet your guide again?
Mortimer wakes with a loud yawn and a rumbling stomach. What a day yesterday was... But at least he got to burn some zombies among the other craziness that happened! That was fulfilling in a theological way. Should he bathe again before they leave? It would probably be the last chance to do so for a long time, but a naked Fender made him feel... somewhat less manly by comparison. Also, he was still trying to not think about just how naked Raft was most of the time. And the lack of gender division in the baths made things a little awkward with Talinder in the group. Oh right, she nearly died yesterday. Did she ever wake back up?
In the interests of moving things along, Fenrir wakes everyone up (probably rudely), tells Mortimer to check on Talindra (Hexscreecher) and Enri (Dino-Fodder), then announces, "Pack up yer things. We're goin' shoppin', then we are gettin' out of this city. Move it!"
"Got it! Hopefully she's, um, not corpsy." Mortimer calls back to Fenrir as he ducks out of the room. "Make sure Endy healed up okay! I can cast spells again if not."
He knocks on the door to Talindra's room, "Hey Talinder, are you alive in there?"
With various grumbles and groans, Enri awakens from his Long Rest hale and possibly even hearty. Wandering out, he yawns while saying, "Great. Let's prioritize getting this done quickly, and possibly even efficiently. Food, shelter, tools, weapons. Shouldn't take too long."
Fenrir summarizes the advice Salida had given a night or two (or a year) ago. "Travel light - well, that won't be a problem with the mount. Rain catchers fer a water supply, gonna need plenty with all this damn heat. Insect repellent so's we don't get eaten alive. Weapons. Tents, probably two-fers?" Fenrir shrugs. "Food should generally be available; I can hunt even if the rest of you lot can't. I guess whatever tools your hero-doin' requires. Anythin' else?"
A stream of angry sounding elvish is the first hint that Talindra did survive the bar fight. The door pops open and she continues angrily but in common, "What the shit was those blighted baboon's problem? They better have gotten damn well arrested if they lived. Do we need to be worried about them popping back up again? Also yes, I'm alive. What are we doing now?"
Mortimer leans back away from Talindra with a surprised grimace on his face, taken aback by the profanity-laced vernacular onslaught to which he has been subject. "Um... Good news, you get your wish? They were arrested, so probably don't have to worry about them again. Fender wants to leave like yesterday, so that's what we're doing."
Fenrir gives Talindra an approving nod. "They're no problem to us, Hexscreacher," he soothes. "We're gettin' outta here 's soon as possible. This mornin's a shoppin' trip, then we're meeting the Guide and leavin'."
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"Woo!"
Raff takes the sword with a surprising amount of reverence, almost cradling it to his chest. He stays that way.
As the party exists in various states of recovery (or unconsciousness) the two guards seem content to wait for you all to decide it is time to leave the bar, although you get the feeling they would prefer it be sooner rather than later.
Raff, the sword is in fact one of your brother's blades - there's no denying the craftsmanship, nor the stamp on the bottom of the leather grip. Seeing it separated from its owner does not fill you with confidence regarding your brother's fate.
Fenrir, the Wolf chooses this moment to return. Too many people paying attention to you in this city. The sooner we get out of here, the better.
Enri, a long history of knowing when to leave and when to stay is coming in useful. Namely, you're getting the feeling that the longer you stick near the scene of the fight, the more attention you'll draw to yourself.
Talindra, the blackness of unconsciousness is broken only by the chiding voice of your patron. "Do try to stay alive, young one. My pride is on the line here, plus I'd have to do a silly dance. I don't want to do a silly dance."
Mortimer, you're uh... well, that certainly was a fight, wasn't it? It seems like this will probably happen a lot.
Having seen to the thugs' relative safety and wellbeing, in the most technical sense, Mortimer wipes his hands off on one of their shirts and returns to the group. He heads to Enri and pokes Talindra with a toe. "Should we get her to a room? She should wake up in an hour or so as long as nothing else knocks her around."
"Yeah, let's...let's do that." says Enri, clearly in need of a rest himself. "Let's get a place to rest, and then let's get provisioned and get the hells out of this city."
Fenrir grunts, then moves to pick up Talindra. He nods to Mortimer, "You, help him." He jerks his head at Enri.
He nods to Raff. "You, keep an eye out for anyone lookin' too interested."
With that, he leads them all back to their rooms in the inn.
Raff waves a claw in a distracted fashion, acknowledging Fenrir's presence, if not his suggestion.
But he does attempt to keep an eye out on their journey back to the room
Perception Check: 9
In a stunning turn of events, your relatively brief walk to your quarters is entirely peaceful and quiet. Raff, you don't notice anything amiss on your way back, but you are, admittedly, probably a little distracted by the feel of your brother's sword - and the question of where its twin is.
((Does anyone have anything else they want to do before you all finally get a long rest?))
((Nothing here! Morty's pretty beat. Not physically. Just magically.))
(( Fenrir's good for sleeping ))
((Enri is just on this side of consciousness, so sleep is preferred))
((A long rest it is, then!))
Somehow, the party manages to have a restful night. Well, restful might be a relative term - those of you from cooler climates are still bothered by the god-awful humidity - but hey, Raff sleeps like a baby! As the light of the morning breaks into your rooms, you're left with the all important question: What are you going to do, and also, where did you say you'd meet your guide again?
Mortimer wakes with a loud yawn and a rumbling stomach. What a day yesterday was... But at least he got to burn some zombies among the other craziness that happened! That was fulfilling in a theological way. Should he bathe again before they leave? It would probably be the last chance to do so for a long time, but a naked Fender made him feel... somewhat less manly by comparison. Also, he was still trying to not think about just how naked Raft was most of the time. And the lack of gender division in the baths made things a little awkward with Talinder in the group. Oh right, she nearly died yesterday. Did she ever wake back up?
In the interests of moving things along, Fenrir wakes everyone up (probably rudely), tells Mortimer to check on Talindra (Hexscreecher) and Enri (Dino-Fodder), then announces, "Pack up yer things. We're goin' shoppin', then we are gettin' out of this city. Move it!"
"Got it! Hopefully she's, um, not corpsy." Mortimer calls back to Fenrir as he ducks out of the room. "Make sure Endy healed up okay! I can cast spells again if not."
He knocks on the door to Talindra's room, "Hey Talinder, are you alive in there?"
With various grumbles and groans, Enri awakens from his Long Rest hale and possibly even hearty. Wandering out, he yawns while saying, "Great. Let's prioritize getting this done quickly, and possibly even efficiently. Food, shelter, tools, weapons. Shouldn't take too long."
Fenrir summarizes the advice Salida had given a night or two (or a year) ago. "Travel light - well, that won't be a problem with the mount. Rain catchers fer a water supply, gonna need plenty with all this damn heat. Insect repellent so's we don't get eaten alive. Weapons. Tents, probably two-fers?" Fenrir shrugs. "Food should generally be available; I can hunt even if the rest of you lot can't. I guess whatever tools your hero-doin' requires. Anythin' else?"
"Nah, let's hit that wet, muggy trail."
A stream of angry sounding elvish is the first hint that Talindra did survive the bar fight. The door pops open and she continues angrily but in common, "What the shit was those blighted baboon's problem? They better have gotten damn well arrested if they lived. Do we need to be worried about them popping back up again? Also yes, I'm alive. What are we doing now?"
Mortimer leans back away from Talindra with a surprised grimace on his face, taken aback by the profanity-laced vernacular onslaught to which he has been subject. "Um... Good news, you get your wish? They were arrested, so probably don't have to worry about them again. Fender wants to leave like yesterday, so that's what we're doing."
Fenrir gives Talindra an approving nod. "They're no problem to us, Hexscreacher," he soothes. "We're gettin' outta here 's soon as possible. This mornin's a shoppin' trip, then we're meeting the Guide and leavin'."