DM: Randa, please give me a Perception Check. 

As they have been on the road for a while, Bombur does his augury ritual again, casting his blessed bullets to see what fate had in store for the next half an hour. 

As the two parties have made camp and for the next 30 minutes, plan to only do camp activities, one might expect an indifferent omen. However, much to Brother Bombur's surprise, the blessed bullets foretell of weal. 

“Hmm, the omens are clear, my friends. I have a bad feeling about things.”

Taking up The Hymnal, Brother Bombur does a careful search of the area. 

[10 investigation check]

Quote from Erik_Soong >>

DM: Randa, please give me a Perception Check. 

 19

Randa senses something. A disturbance on the wind. She scans the area around her, head on a swivel. There is nothing. Her instincts scream at her that there is a great predator here, a most dangerous creature. She whirls around again, bow and arrow drawn. As she spins toward the distant city, there appears before her a man.

An older hobgoblin dressed in a black hakamashita, a purple hakama, and no shoes. He appears past his prime, but still in his very capable phase of life. The hobgoblin has his long black hair mostly tied up in a messy bun, with the rest freely cascading down past his shoulders. He carries two katana on one side of his belt, one glossy black without a guard, and the other white with gold inlay all the way down the scabbard. On the other side, a black wakizashi and black tanto, both matching the polished no-guard look of the katana.

He holds up his hands in surrender a mere 10ft from Randa. Even though it is well into the night, this should not be possible to one as attuned to their surroundings as Randa is. “My apologies. I have spent most of my life trying to be as silent as possible in these lands, that I have forgotten to walk in such a way that it announces me. My name is Kor. May I join you by your fire and share in your tea?"

Ylis stands up and waves him over, "Of course, come on over..." Then she glares at him with hands on her hips "Wait a minute, are you a bad guy?"

Brother Bombur casts Detect Good and Evil. 

Quote from Wysperra >>

Ylis stands up and waves him over, "Of course, come on over..." Then she glares at him with hands on her hips "Wait a minute, are you a bad guy?"

-You do realize that if he were, he wouldn't admit it. Right?- says raising one eyebrow and a little smile at Ylis innocence. Then he looks at Kor.

-What brings you to this place? Especially alone. This place is not the safest. And even if you are good warrior, it's allways better to travel with a group.- Frekor asks Kor, already not trusting him since the odd enounter with Bert and Ernie left him cautious.

Jacaranda lets the others speak but the warning in the back of her mind about Fiends is almost overpowering....but he has done nothing untoward yet. So she bides her time.

"I do not believe I have the wisdom to make that judgement. It will have to be my god that ultimately decides." Kor says. "Though, it has kept me alive this long, if that helps ease your mind."

DM: There are no Abberations or Elementals, and the only Celestials, Fey, or Fiends present are the various Familiars running around. There is also no Hallow spell active within the limitations of Bombur's senses. 

Kor smiles at Frekor's question. "You are correct. Xhorhas has always been dangerous and the Barbed Fields especially so. One cannot hope to survive long alone. Perhaps I can tell you over some good tea." He says, accepting Ylis' offer to sit by the fire. He walks purposefully and with confidence, unafraid of these heavily armed apparent strangers. 

He takes a seat, lowering himself silently by the fire. He takes a deep breath, holds it, and releases it, as if releasing some heavy burden.

Bombur keeps a watchful eye on the situation. Alert to danger. 

" Who is your god?", Jacaranda ventures.

There is a pregnant pause while Kor waits. He glances at Randa in acknowledgement of her question, but does not answer immediately. Dermot starts and then grabs a small cup of tea, handing it to the hobgoblin. Kor accepts it gratefully and sips, allowing the brew to rest in his mouth for a moment as he considers the taste with his eyes closed. Then he swallows. He smiles, nodding in thanks to Dermot. 

Kor places his hand on the hilt of the black sword. "My god. My soul. My burden. None can carry it but me. I have cursed myself with this task, though I did not know it when I accepted it." He speaks with a grave voice as he answers the question. "My people believe in one god. A god of one with a worshiper of one, made from our very souls. A god we fashion from steel, each little god different from the next." He smiles, though it is in sad irony rather than sincere mirth. 

"I am on a journey. A journey to find the perfect poem. A death poem of my people. Perhaps some of you might be able to help me. It is a custom of my people to find our own perfect poem before departing this world. I have yet to find mine and my body grows weary. There are more years behind me than ahead."

DM: Brother Bombur, please give me an Insight Check. 

[12 with guidance, unless I get advantage from my augury premonition]

DM: I like the out-of-box thinking, but not this time. 

Kor is difficult to read. On one hand, he seems genuine in the words he has offered, but also guarded, particularly when mentioning his god and why he must find the perfect poem. As if it is a sensitive topic of discussion. 

Morgan grins from the back of the group, eyes open on the stranger.
He whispers:

"Too many stuck swords,
an autumn poem rusts red,
old blood clings to steel."

(Performance: 11)

Jacaranda nodded, " It is not an unfamiliar notion.....must you craft the poem yourself or merely come across it?"

Bombur doesn't let his guard down. Something is off about this Kor, and while he's normally a jovial and trusting soul, something weighs on him heavily. He keeps his gun at the ready, just in case it is needed. He also keeps his eyes on their surroundings, in case Kor is a distraction for some ambush.