"Good, now that your not bleeding to death I have a few questions. Do you have a camp or is there possibly a village or town nearby? The ship we were on struck something and stranded us here."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
“Spirit. In every language in all the Realms, surface and Underdark, in every time and every place, the word has a ring of strength and determination. It is the hero's strength, the mother's resilience and the poor man's armor. It cannot be broken and it cannot be taken away.”
The damsel groans slightly, still barely conscious. "The village..." She mumbles, pointing off further into the jungle area. "The elder asked me to..."
Finias bent slightly cocks his twisted-head to one side and listens to the verbose and edifying reveal made by the damsel! The misshapen dwarf then immediately turns to the formidable and powerful looking Paladin, the wise Ser Belmont, a crooked smile on the jester's thin lips, "did you get it all m'lord? A rather significant clue m'thinks! Lucky for us that elder of her's sent this wee lass through dangerous Goblin infested territory to welcome us and to warn us of the foul threat that awaits. I expect when we return this one to the fold, her people will have a really huge, and I mean really huge stew-pot on the boil... empty of course, with the lot of em, just waitin with open arms and baited breath for the main course to be delivered on to them if 'n you know what I mean!"The fool-jester cackles with laughter, "or could be..." he pauses to scratch his lice-infested head and picks off a troublesome flea... flicking it off to the side before continuing, "the elder merely asked her to fetch the cat back home right quick before the rains come. Either way, we're golden, m'lord... not a thing to be concerned about, yes sir-e-bob, all good in the neighborhood. In any event, we shouldn't dally here... Mustn't be late for dinner? I for one would hate to make a bad impression?"
Turning around, Maxwell Addresses Finias, "Come now Finias, a smart ass. If this village was desperate enough to send this girl through difficult terrain can only mean they are in dire straits. This could be a great opportunity to establish ourselves and plan on what to do next. Given the fact that we are currently stranded here with little to no coin I wouldn't scoff at any opportunity to refill our coin purses."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
“Spirit. In every language in all the Realms, surface and Underdark, in every time and every place, the word has a ring of strength and determination. It is the hero's strength, the mother's resilience and the poor man's armor. It cannot be broken and it cannot be taken away.”
Finias grovels before Ser Belmont whimpering and whining in his irritating high pitched voice of his, "an ass perhaps, but smart? My good and noble Ser, I think not... you give me far too much credit for I am but a poor humble circus performer who has lost his way."
The dwarf seems to perk up as the good Ser mentions the need to establish a plan on what to do next. Finias' response is to cackle with laughter and delight, " haha, a plan you seek is it then? Well, you are in luck noble Ser, for I've got a plan so cunning, you could put a tail on it and call it a weasel!"The fool's eyes seem to twinkle as he adds, "and it will just cost you a mere single, shiny gold coin... or its equivalent in barter or trade, satisfaction guaranteed!" The dwarf fool extends his hand outward, empty palm up... waiting with anticipation.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Logi, while the group has been conversing over the fate of the damsel, takes his leisurely time to sort through the remains of goblin attackers, setting their crude weapons aside and searching them for valuables.
Investingation: 21
When the job is done, he lets his curiosity linger for a moment, taking in their tribal facepaint and the stricken poses of their sudden death. Slowly (and painfully, due to his wound) he piles the corpses together in the clearing, and when finished, sets them alight with a sharp thrust of his hand towards the pile.
The ragged clothes and flesh begin to cook and burn before the focus of a small magical fire. His task finished, for now.
Finias hearing Giacomo's words, the dwarf doesn't move, stays rooted to his spot in front of the Paladin, his palm still out and open before the generous Ser but the fool does turn his gaze towards the monk Giacomo,"I do like the cut of m'lord jib I must confess gentle monk but yours is not too bad either from the looks of it, so if ye be wantin a dance I'll give you a good rate... just a single copper. But a kiss... if ye be wantin a kiss from these velvet lips o'mine now that will cost ye a five copper and I can assure it be coin well spent, satisfaction guaranteed! Though I see ya eyeing my lovely mistress there, a fine high elf princess born she be, I am sure you'd pay a gold to touch those lips no doubt, even more for an elvish-kiss I would wager?"
Melody pats her wound gingerly with the cloth provided by Finias, a grimace behind her veil. Paying attention, but feigning apathy, she strolls over to her cloak and collects it. Quietly, she listens to the boys for a few moments, trying to get a better understanding of her newfound “friends.” Until Giacomo’s statement to Finias makes her burst out into riotous laughter.
At the Dwarf’s suggestion that Giacomo might purchase a kiss from her, the laughter halts, and she clears her throat. “I’m not kissing him.” One eyebrow arching, her arms folding across her chest. “He’s not my type. Nor is it your position to put me up for rent.”
Finias grovels fearfully before his precious Melody, "my apologies, my sweet snapdragon, a minor lapse in judgment but I would be remiss if I did not point out that we do find ourselves in a bit of a pickle. Given our current circumstances and the sad depressing state of our purse, trying times often call for desperate measures. What then do you recommend my sweet honey badger, I was just about to tell our valiant Ser Belmont here, about that cunning plan of yours, perhaps it would better if you explained to him, you always tell it so much better than I!"
The fool offers a respectful bow to both the Lady Melody and brave Ser Belmont, sniffing the air,"oh my is that sweet heavenly aroma... fresh roasted Goblin that I smell," as he lowers his empty hand and walks away from the pair towards Logi diligently working to set the corpses ablaze, "my good fellow, I had no idea you were a master chef... excellent thinking we won't get far in this wilderness on an empty stomach, may I join you and perhaps sample the suckling flesh that you are preparing, what sort of seasoning does one use for Goblin?"
Amused that any one of the pair could have anything remotely resembling a plan Maxwell stands up and gets ready to listen. "Yes, let me hear this wonderful plan of yours 'Lady Melody'. We currently have the time to waste since we have to wait for this one to recover from your last great plan."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
“Spirit. In every language in all the Realms, surface and Underdark, in every time and every place, the word has a ring of strength and determination. It is the hero's strength, the mother's resilience and the poor man's armor. It cannot be broken and it cannot be taken away.”
Melody chuckles, confidently approaching Maxwell as she drapes her cloak around her shoulders. “You have a plan? Please explain it slowly for my lowly female brain. Use small words. I’m just a girl.” Making eye contact as she enters his personal space, she pauses, taking a deep breath. Her hand comes up between them, tentatively touching his chest. “We bury one of those goblin spears in her heart and drag the corpse back to the village. We apologize for not saving her from the little green vermin. We get our answers from them.”
"This has nothing to do with you being a woman, more to do with you being a moron. The whole point of keeping her alive is find where her village is. So, unless you want to go marching off into unknown territory it's best that she stay alive to help us. Plus I think they'll be more generous with their coin if she comes back alive." Looking down, Maxwell notices the closeness of her hand, "One last piece of advice, watch what you do with that hand. My wife's ghost is the jealous type and the last woman who tried what you are currently trying to do, well let's just say it wasn't pretty." Turning around, Maxwell kneels once more by the fallen damsel to keep an eye on her. The sooner she recovered the sooner they could get out of this place.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
“Spirit. In every language in all the Realms, surface and Underdark, in every time and every place, the word has a ring of strength and determination. It is the hero's strength, the mother's resilience and the poor man's armor. It cannot be broken and it cannot be taken away.”
Larry shuffles shuffles around the burning goblin corpses mumbling something softly under his breath......
"We need directions from her...but bringing her alive back to the village is not an option....unless we want to answer why the Maiden was attacked. Get the village location from the damsel....than give her to Lady Melody." Larry turns to look at Melody, pointing at her veil. "Perhaps you hate the maiden as she reminds you what you have lost? Regardless...your anger can be a service to the Darkone...if you can control it better"
Bending at the waist, Melody places her face next to Maxwell’s, tugging her veil down. Her brand concealed between them, her lips dangerously close to his ear, and her voice a sugary whisper. “I suspect my temptation is more frightening than the threat of your dead wife, ‘Paladin.’ You were on that ship. Same as the rest of us. I have doubt that you’re as selfless as you’re acting. Frankly? In a situation like this? Your focus on the helpless Damsel?” Her words carefully paced, and accentuated by her breath and pauses. “Creepy. Let’s just kill her and be done with it.”
Giacomo, not hearing what Melody whispers to Maxwell, agrees with Larry, "Indeed, any usefulness her situation could have brought us was wiped away when Melody acted so impulsively. Once she tells us anything useful, we will need to stick her full of goblin spears. After we take her dress to bring back to her village or town, we'll have to burn her body and grind her bones so there's nothing left should one of those villagers be able to speak with the dead.
It would have been useful to drag some of those goblin corpses back with us, but a bloody dress and a few goblin spears is all we will have to work with now.
Lets get on with this. She doesn't need to survive, she just needs to answer questions for a bit longer. Wake her up."
(Sorry, been ill. Trying to catch up on things now)
Logi, while the others are "discussing" their options, looks over the dead goblins' possessions. They have their crude spears (can be utilised as javelins, 12 total), and a couple of them have some makeshift pouches. Checking within them there appears to be some pieces of ripe fruit in there that have an orange-red skin.
Finias peeks over Logi's shoulder curiously... interested is what discovered in the pouches, "whatcha doin... whatcha got there... some tasty Goblin fruit-tarts I bet?"
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
"By all means." Logi hurriedly places a pouch of the sticky fruit in Finias's hands.
"You earned it."
Logi leaves the spears in a small pile, taking three of the short spears and binding them to his staff with some improvised rags made out of the clothes the goblins wore. Joining the group, he checks on the damsels pulse
Maxwell Belmont
Lvl 3 | Aasimar | Paladin/Oathbreaker
"Good, now that your not bleeding to death I have a few questions. Do you have a camp or is there possibly a village or town nearby? The ship we were on struck something and stranded us here."
“Spirit. In every language in all the Realms, surface and Underdark, in every time and every place, the word has a ring of strength and determination. It is the hero's strength, the mother's resilience and the poor man's armor. It cannot be broken and it cannot be taken away.”
The damsel groans slightly, still barely conscious. "The village..." She mumbles, pointing off further into the jungle area. "The elder asked me to..."
Finias bent slightly cocks his twisted-head to one side and listens to the verbose and edifying reveal made by the damsel! The misshapen dwarf then immediately turns to the formidable and powerful looking Paladin, the wise Ser Belmont, a crooked smile on the jester's thin lips, "did you get it all m'lord? A rather significant clue m'thinks! Lucky for us that elder of her's sent this wee lass through dangerous Goblin infested territory to welcome us and to warn us of the foul threat that awaits. I expect when we return this one to the fold, her people will have a really huge, and I mean really huge stew-pot on the boil... empty of course, with the lot of em, just waitin with open arms and baited breath for the main course to be delivered on to them if 'n you know what I mean!" The fool-jester cackles with laughter, "or could be..." he pauses to scratch his lice-infested head and picks off a troublesome flea... flicking it off to the side before continuing, "the elder merely asked her to fetch the cat back home right quick before the rains come. Either way, we're golden, m'lord... not a thing to be concerned about, yes sir-e-bob, all good in the neighborhood. In any event, we shouldn't dally here... Mustn't be late for dinner? I for one would hate to make a bad impression?"
Maxwell Belmont
Lvl 3 | Aasimar | Paladin/Oathbreaker
Turning around, Maxwell Addresses Finias, "Come now Finias, a smart ass. If this village was desperate enough to send this girl through difficult terrain can only mean they are in dire straits. This could be a great opportunity to establish ourselves and plan on what to do next. Given the fact that we are currently stranded here with little to no coin I wouldn't scoff at any opportunity to refill our coin purses."
“Spirit. In every language in all the Realms, surface and Underdark, in every time and every place, the word has a ring of strength and determination. It is the hero's strength, the mother's resilience and the poor man's armor. It cannot be broken and it cannot be taken away.”
Finias grovels before Ser Belmont whimpering and whining in his irritating high pitched voice of his, "an ass perhaps, but smart? My good and noble Ser, I think not... you give me far too much credit for I am but a poor humble circus performer who has lost his way."
The dwarf seems to perk up as the good Ser mentions the need to establish a plan on what to do next. Finias' response is to cackle with laughter and delight, " haha, a plan you seek is it then? Well, you are in luck noble Ser, for I've got a plan so cunning, you could put a tail on it and call it a weasel!" The fool's eyes seem to twinkle as he adds, "and it will just cost you a mere single, shiny gold coin... or its equivalent in barter or trade, satisfaction guaranteed!" The dwarf fool extends his hand outward, empty palm up... waiting with anticipation.
Logi, while the group has been conversing over the fate of the damsel, takes his leisurely time to sort through the remains of goblin attackers, setting their crude weapons aside and searching them for valuables.
Investingation: 21
When the job is done, he lets his curiosity linger for a moment, taking in their tribal facepaint and the stricken poses of their sudden death. Slowly (and painfully, due to his wound) he piles the corpses together in the clearing, and when finished, sets them alight with a sharp thrust of his hand towards the pile.
The ragged clothes and flesh begin to cook and burn before the focus of a small magical fire. His task finished, for now.
Giacomo looks at Finias's outheld hand and says, "Oh look, the clown wants to dance. Or maybe he wants a kiss? Seems enamored of you, Ser Belmont."
Finias hearing Giacomo's words, the dwarf doesn't move, stays rooted to his spot in front of the Paladin, his palm still out and open before the generous Ser but the fool does turn his gaze towards the monk Giacomo, "I do like the cut of m'lord jib I must confess gentle monk but yours is not too bad either from the looks of it, so if ye be wantin a dance I'll give you a good rate... just a single copper. But a kiss... if ye be wantin a kiss from these velvet lips o'mine now that will cost ye a five copper and I can assure it be coin well spent, satisfaction guaranteed! Though I see ya eyeing my lovely mistress there, a fine high elf princess born she be, I am sure you'd pay a gold to touch those lips no doubt, even more for an elvish-kiss I would wager?"
Melody pats her wound gingerly with the cloth provided by Finias, a grimace behind her veil. Paying attention, but feigning apathy, she strolls over to her cloak and collects it. Quietly, she listens to the boys for a few moments, trying to get a better understanding of her newfound “friends.” Until Giacomo’s statement to Finias makes her burst out into riotous laughter.
At the Dwarf’s suggestion that Giacomo might purchase a kiss from her, the laughter halts, and she clears her throat. “I’m not kissing him.” One eyebrow arching, her arms folding across her chest. “He’s not my type. Nor is it your position to put me up for rent.”
Finias grovels fearfully before his precious Melody, "my apologies, my sweet snapdragon, a minor lapse in judgment but I would be remiss if I did not point out that we do find ourselves in a bit of a pickle. Given our current circumstances and the sad depressing state of our purse, trying times often call for desperate measures. What then do you recommend my sweet honey badger, I was just about to tell our valiant Ser Belmont here, about that cunning plan of yours, perhaps it would better if you explained to him, you always tell it so much better than I!"
The fool offers a respectful bow to both the Lady Melody and brave Ser Belmont, sniffing the air, "oh my is that sweet heavenly aroma... fresh roasted Goblin that I smell," as he lowers his empty hand and walks away from the pair towards Logi diligently working to set the corpses ablaze, "my good fellow, I had no idea you were a master chef... excellent thinking we won't get far in this wilderness on an empty stomach, may I join you and perhaps sample the suckling flesh that you are preparing, what sort of seasoning does one use for Goblin?"
Maxwell Belmont
Lvl 3 | Aasimar | Paladin/Oathbreaker
Amused that any one of the pair could have anything remotely resembling a plan Maxwell stands up and gets ready to listen. "Yes, let me hear this wonderful plan of yours 'Lady Melody'. We currently have the time to waste since we have to wait for this one to recover from your last great plan."
“Spirit. In every language in all the Realms, surface and Underdark, in every time and every place, the word has a ring of strength and determination. It is the hero's strength, the mother's resilience and the poor man's armor. It cannot be broken and it cannot be taken away.”
Melody chuckles, confidently approaching Maxwell as she drapes her cloak around her shoulders. “You have a plan? Please explain it slowly for my lowly female brain. Use small words. I’m just a girl.” Making eye contact as she enters his personal space, she pauses, taking a deep breath. Her hand comes up between them, tentatively touching his chest. “We bury one of those goblin spears in her heart and drag the corpse back to the village. We apologize for not saving her from the little green vermin. We get our answers from them.”
Maxwell Belmont
Lvl 3 | Aasimar | Paladin/Oathbreaker
"This has nothing to do with you being a woman, more to do with you being a moron. The whole point of keeping her alive is find where her village is. So, unless you want to go marching off into unknown territory it's best that she stay alive to help us. Plus I think they'll be more generous with their coin if she comes back alive." Looking down, Maxwell notices the closeness of her hand, "One last piece of advice, watch what you do with that hand. My wife's ghost is the jealous type and the last woman who tried what you are currently trying to do, well let's just say it wasn't pretty." Turning around, Maxwell kneels once more by the fallen damsel to keep an eye on her. The sooner she recovered the sooner they could get out of this place.
“Spirit. In every language in all the Realms, surface and Underdark, in every time and every place, the word has a ring of strength and determination. It is the hero's strength, the mother's resilience and the poor man's armor. It cannot be broken and it cannot be taken away.”
Larry shuffles shuffles around the burning goblin corpses mumbling something softly under his breath......
"We need directions from her...but bringing her alive back to the village is not an option....unless we want to answer why the Maiden was attacked. Get the village location from the damsel....than give her to Lady Melody." Larry turns to look at Melody, pointing at her veil. "Perhaps you hate the maiden as she reminds you what you have lost? Regardless...your anger can be a service to the Darkone...if you can control it better"
Bending at the waist, Melody places her face next to Maxwell’s, tugging her veil down. Her brand concealed between them, her lips dangerously close to his ear, and her voice a sugary whisper. “I suspect my temptation is more frightening than the threat of your dead wife, ‘Paladin.’ You were on that ship. Same as the rest of us. I have doubt that you’re as selfless as you’re acting. Frankly? In a situation like this? Your focus on the helpless Damsel?” Her words carefully paced, and accentuated by her breath and pauses. “Creepy. Let’s just kill her and be done with it.”
Giacomo, not hearing what Melody whispers to Maxwell, agrees with Larry, "Indeed, any usefulness her situation could have brought us was wiped away when Melody acted so impulsively. Once she tells us anything useful, we will need to stick her full of goblin spears. After we take her dress to bring back to her village or town, we'll have to burn her body and grind her bones so there's nothing left should one of those villagers be able to speak with the dead.
It would have been useful to drag some of those goblin corpses back with us, but a bloody dress and a few goblin spears is all we will have to work with now.
Lets get on with this. She doesn't need to survive, she just needs to answer questions for a bit longer. Wake her up."
(Sorry, been ill. Trying to catch up on things now)
Logi, while the others are "discussing" their options, looks over the dead goblins' possessions. They have their crude spears (can be utilised as javelins, 12 total), and a couple of them have some makeshift pouches. Checking within them there appears to be some pieces of ripe fruit in there that have an orange-red skin.
Finias peeks over Logi's shoulder curiously... interested is what discovered in the pouches, "whatcha doin... whatcha got there... some tasty Goblin fruit-tarts I bet?"
"By all means." Logi hurriedly places a pouch of the sticky fruit in Finias's hands.
"You earned it."
Logi leaves the spears in a small pile, taking three of the short spears and binding them to his staff with some improvised rags made out of the clothes the goblins wore. Joining the group, he checks on the damsels pulse
medicine: 13
Giacomo will take one spear (javelin) and watch curiously to see if Finias will eat the fruit.