Those of you who eat breakfast, you find, perhaps surprisingly, that it is indeed delicious. The eggs are rich, the biscuits are fluffy, and the sausage has a crispiness that is juuust right. Corin Brightaxe, fidgets in excitement at the sight of you eating and rushes off to the kitchen to prepare more food and bring out coffee and ale for anyone who wishes to indulge.
Captain Graddor, for his part, inspects each of you over his spectacles, letting the silence hang for a few minutes. Finally, he speaks. "I suppose I should start by thanking you for saving me from those Nuitari worshippers. They're a stupid lot, but they can be vicious when they feel as though they've been cornered. Hopefully killing a bunch of them will scare them. I've increased security at the mine as well....but that's not really why you're here, is it? The radiogram from Admiral Garrock was frustratingly vague. I am 'to give you all possible aid in locating and returning the man known as Dr. Aleksei to Valance.' This has to do with those poor blighters who were sick last week, doesn't it? I never should have let Brightaxe send that report without reviewing it first." He says, more to himself then to you all. He pauses, and takes another sip from his tin mug, and leans forward in his chair, the chair creaking under his sturdy frame.
"So, what is it? Are they afraid some skilled magic user is running in the wild? Or something else?"
Alden nods and sits down across from the Captain. "Taking care of garrison business this morning I see." Alden says as he dabbles in eating the food on his plate.
Alden waits for a few moments, eating a bite here and there and then asks: "Captain, what circumstances brought you to the tavern last night?"
After the Captain answers, or doesn't Alden will ask his second question:
"What relationship do you have with the priests you were surrounded by when we found you?"
Graddor squints hard at the half-elf as he asks his question.
"I'll answer you, sunny Jim, as long as you answer my questions. I was drinking in The Canary, as one does in an establishment such as that one. The drinks, like the company, are a bit stiffer than you find elsewhere, and much more congenial to me. As for those priests, we have an...arrangement with them and their ilk. They do not interfere with the mine or openly proselytize their ridiculous faith in town, and I do not crush them, destroy the church they believe is safely hidden inside the mine, or report them to the secret police. They somehow heard about the radiogram Flinty sent and they assumed that they were going to be the target. Poor blighters seem to be convinced they are of great concern to the Commander-in-chief of Languedoc's armed forces. I doubt Flintlock could even pronounce Nuitari."
He picks up a biscuit and takes a bite, then yells back towards the kitchen. "Excellent biscuits, Corin. You've outdone yourself today." He turns back to you. "Your turn. Why are you here? Why does the capital care about some crazy mountain druid?"
Grin fiddles with a book entitled *Military tactics and their application to modern life.* While listening to the discussion. She is trying to draw as little attention as possible, she even has her arcane elements tucked in the deepest regions of her pack.
While he normally has a large appetite Nevlav only half heartedly eats his breakfast, as Graddor begins in on his explainations and answers he pipes up, "It is indeed part of that report. The Doctor is wanted for questioning pertaining to his techniques. There is a desire to understand more about sickness by the city officials and his help is crucial."
Graddor turns to look at the Gnome Paladin now, and after hearing Nevlav's response he smiles wanly, studying you.
DM Screen
Insight Check: 5
He nods, accepting the explanation, seemingly satisfied for now. After appraising you for a few moments, he adds "I recognize your armor. Fought alongside a lot of your fellows during the war. Zealous lot. Didn't care for them much."
He turns his attention to the wider group. "Our shenanigans last evening has, regretfully, left me with a lot of work on my plate before my audience with Lady Raskiel this evening. Unless there is anything else, I can detail one of the lads to show you to the mountain pass that leads you up into the Corropolese Mountains so you can continue your task and return to Valance so the authorities can continue their...studies."
He returns his attention to the letter in front of him abruptly, apparently trying to dismiss you as curtly as possible.
Thalion finally sets down fork and knife and clears his throat before replying, "And I'm a woodland elf who has dedicated his life to preserving the natural world and its inhabitants, and yet here I am working for the very kingdom I so detest. Does that tell you anything about the severity and import of this situation, Captain?"
As usual Thalion struggles to keep derision from dripping off of the word "Captain" like so much butter melting on a biscuit.
Something about Thalion's sharp retort seems to sting the half-orc. Graddor stops writing mid-sentence and puts down the pen. "Oh, I know your type all too well. Did any of you serve in the War of Magick and Machines? I did." He says, without waiting for a response. "I spent the war hunting folk just like you, elf. So scared of progress and change, you huddle in the forests and swamps and call upon the old Gods to protect you. Didn't matter in the end though. We routed every one of you Followers of the Knife sympathizers and turned the legacy of people like Count Felix into ash. I have even less respect for you than I do for those Church of Nuitari kooks or true believers in Brocc's revolution like your companion here. At least they live in reality."As he speaks, Graddor gestures at Nevlav.
His voice gets progressively louder, drowning out the conversation in the room and causing even the soldiers at hte other table to fall into silence and stare, mouths agape, at their Captain continues to speak."My time at war taught me two things. One, nothing matters, not even whatever pissant adventure you lot have deluded yourselves into thinking will change a damned thing. Two, every creature in this realm is at heart, a brutal, brutish animal, seeking to survive, get by and get whatever advantage they can life for themselves. You think any of you are serving the state out of some altruistic motive? Balls! You're all getting something out of this. I just don't know what...."
Noticing that the room is now silent, he stops talking, breathing heavily and clearly agitated.
Yorric sits forward and says in a quiet, empathetic voice. “I’m sorry, Captain. It must’ve been difficult. Working so hard to become a proud, respected soldier. Learning and even teaching respect, honor and patriotism. Then winding up here.”
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Alden
Alden waits, listening to the Captain's explanation. He replies:
"I apologize, I do forget my manners most days" Alden says with a smile, "I am Inspector Alden Lostchild of the Royal Police Force of Valance. I do appreciate you taking the time out of your busy schedule to speak with us and, Admiral Flintlock" Alden puts a slight emphasis on the title and name, "said you were the man to speak to here in Yellow Creek."
Alden sits back in his chair for a moment then begins:
"I just have a few questions. if you don't mind Captain, then we will take you up on your gracious offer of getting someone to guide us." Alden smiles again.
Alden will ask a few questions, pausing to allow the Captain to answer. He will keep himself professional and genial to try to get the Captain to relax and, eventually, let something slip he normally wouldn't.
Persuasion: 18
"What do you mean the priests have their church, inside the mine?" Alden asks.
"And what do you know about this, Nuitari?"
"Do you know Dr. Aleksei? Have you ever spoken to him and do you have any insight on the man that may help us?
"You said you had an audience with Lady Raskiel this evening, does the Lady hold a political office here in the region?"
After Yoric offers his quiet, empathetic comment to Graddor, there is silence for a moment that is broken by a mechanical whirring sound. The steel boar that was resting under the table emerges and sits patiently at the feet of Graddor -- you swear, the metallic thing's tail seems to wag inquisitively. Graddor looks down, still breathing heavily, and smiles perhaps the first genuine smile you've seen from him this morning.
"Yes Porkins, I'm okay, old boy." He taps the automaton on the head and returns to his seat, seemingly back to his old self. He does not address your comment directly Yoric, and instead says, in his jaunty, cynical way. "People think war changes everything. They couldn't be wronger. Thousands of men and woman, orcs, dwarves, gnomes, elves and halflings die, a King or Emperor or Prime Minister gets to celebrate a rousing victory and people's lives go on. They don't bloody care about the rise and fall of nations. They just want to live their lives. King Brocc is a genius and a master political mind, but his revolution never took root in places like Yellow Creek or thousands of other little nameless villages and hamlets all throughout the kingdom. He's holding everything together by sheer force of will. When he dies, well, to use a bad metaphor, the machine is going to break down. I am here because I do not want to be anywhere near the capital when it does. And of course, because Kristoph Porkins here loves playing down in the mines, don't you, boy?" He says affectionately to the metal creature that has returned to a resting position below the table.
Whatever that episode Graddor experienced was, it didn't seem to bother his men too much. As soon as he sits back down, they resume their lively conversations, from what you can overhear, seem to revolve around what maidens in the village they're wooing, speculation of what Lady Raskiel is like in bed, and creepy things that are rumored to be down in the mines.
Only Corin Brightaxe and Graddor's automaton "pet" seem the slightest concerned about his well-being. As soon as Graddor sits, Brightaxe is at his side, pouring piping hot coffee into Graddor's tin mug. "Now Captain, you told me you'd eat. You know 'ow you get after a night out."
Graddor rolls his eyes at his aide-de-camp. "Honestly, Brightaxe, you're worse than my mother." As Alden lays out his questions, he seems amused by the half-elf's genteel manner. "A copper, eh? Should have guessed. You have the look about you. Since you indulged my....unorthodox views, I shall answer a few of your questions. Regarding those priests, they claim to be following Nuitari, who, in the old days was supposed to be the god of dark magic, or somesuch ridiculousness. He didn't have clerics back then, because anyone fool enough to worship him met a bad end. I suppose that's the flaw in censoring history books, eh? As for their church, I haven't seen it, but some of the lads have reported they've constructed some sort of shrine down one of the disused mine tunnels. Honestly, its just so boring. I mean, the least they could do is summon a succubus or something, eh? At least I can respect that."
As you ask about Aleksei, you notice that he is starting to eat, following Brightaxe's concern. "I met him about ten years ago. Half-elf about my age, looks like he can handle himself in a fight. I pulled him in when I was first assigned to Yellow Creek. With that name, I assumed he was some fanatical remnant of the Followers of the Knife," he pauses, and says significantly "Count Aleksander Felix? Anyway, I pulled him in, we had a chat and came to an understanding with him. No magic other than healing magic in town, and he was welcome to come and go as he pleased. He stuck to the deal pretty well. It was only Brightaxe slipping that detail into the report about two those poor railroad porters that triggered this. Poor blighter. I suppose you lot are taking him in to the secret police?" He says, clearly still fishing for more.
Finally, you see another slight smile come to his lips at the mention of Lady Raskiel. "Lady Raskiel is the mine operator, something she inherited from her husband, Hero of the Realm Count Boris Raskiel."He lips curl in a mocking sneer as he recites the last part. "She holds no political title, but as de facto employer of nearly everyone in town, she has an enormous say in the town's affairs." He doesn't elaborate any further.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Yoric leans in, an avid listener. “Do you like Yellow Creek?”
Insight- I want to see how Graddoc feels about the petty officer, lady raskiel, the deceased lord raskiel, and about being out here in general. I understand I might not get much info on each of these without more leading questions, I’m just putting it out there.
3
kristoph porkins distracts with its mechanical adorableness.
Alden listens to Graddor's answers, making mental notes to the answers then he will say:
"It's that part of the report that brings us, the part of the report about the 2 porters." Alden says, "Where these folk sick with the current ailment that plagues the realm or something else?"
Thalion just regards the captain in silence, an unimpressed sneer on his face. He crosses his arms over his chest but doesn't dare open his mouth for fear of sparking another outburst from Graddor.
Graddor responds between bites, saying "It's better than being in the capital, but not as good as being aboard an airship," and truly, despite his seeming portrayal of an upper-class twit, he is hard to read, his sudden outburst aside.
Upon hearing your question, Alden, he calls Corin Brightaxe over once more. "I didn't ACTUALLY see the porters who fell ill. I was on...other business. Chief Brightaxe dealt with it. Corin, tell this lot about the porters."
From the dwarf's description, of a wasting disease that begins with aches and a high fever, eventually leading to hallucinations, it seems VERY similar, if not identical to the disease you all have had varying experience with.
"We quarantined the two of 'em in the dungeon in the basement, we did. Thought we were gonna lose 'em both, but sure enough, the 'alf-elf gent appeared and without a word, went right down to the dungeons and cured 'em both in a blink. Damnedest thing I ever saw. Before we even knew it, 'e was gone. Both of the sick folks were back at work a few days later." His eyes shine in wonder of this trick.
Graddor listens intently, finishing his breakfast and buttoning his jacket. As Corin finishes, he looks at you expectantly. "If there's anything else, we'll have to walk and talk. The morning shift is due at the mine shortly, and I'd like to be there. Make sure the Followers of Nuitari know we're watching. Otherwise, Chief Brightaxe can guide you to the pass."
Graddor looks at all of you, and shakes his head, unclear whether it is amusement or frustration. He starts to say something to you, Thalion but stops short and instead he begins walking for the door of the mess hall. Porkins, his mechanical companion, lags behind, sniffing at Grin's feet and waggling his backside.
"Porkins! Gods, man, you act like you've not seen a halfling before. Come, boy!"
Porkins waits expectantly, sitting on his hind legs now, in front of Grin.
Corin watches this, smiling warmly, then nods at Thalion. "Right you are, sir! I'll either be back in the kitchen or at the front desk, I will. When you're ready to leave for the Corropolese pass, come find me."
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Those of you who eat breakfast, you find, perhaps surprisingly, that it is indeed delicious. The eggs are rich, the biscuits are fluffy, and the sausage has a crispiness that is juuust right. Corin Brightaxe, fidgets in excitement at the sight of you eating and rushes off to the kitchen to prepare more food and bring out coffee and ale for anyone who wishes to indulge.
Captain Graddor, for his part, inspects each of you over his spectacles, letting the silence hang for a few minutes. Finally, he speaks. "I suppose I should start by thanking you for saving me from those Nuitari worshippers. They're a stupid lot, but they can be vicious when they feel as though they've been cornered. Hopefully killing a bunch of them will scare them. I've increased security at the mine as well....but that's not really why you're here, is it? The radiogram from Admiral Garrock was frustratingly vague. I am 'to give you all possible aid in locating and returning the man known as Dr. Aleksei to Valance.' This has to do with those poor blighters who were sick last week, doesn't it? I never should have let Brightaxe send that report without reviewing it first." He says, more to himself then to you all. He pauses, and takes another sip from his tin mug, and leans forward in his chair, the chair creaking under his sturdy frame.
"So, what is it? Are they afraid some skilled magic user is running in the wild? Or something else?"
Alden
Alden nods and sits down across from the Captain. "Taking care of garrison business this morning I see." Alden says as he dabbles in eating the food on his plate.
Alden waits for a few moments, eating a bite here and there and then asks: "Captain, what circumstances brought you to the tavern last night?"
After the Captain answers, or doesn't Alden will ask his second question:
"What relationship do you have with the priests you were surrounded by when we found you?"
Graddor squints hard at the half-elf as he asks his question.
"I'll answer you, sunny Jim, as long as you answer my questions. I was drinking in The Canary, as one does in an establishment such as that one. The drinks, like the company, are a bit stiffer than you find elsewhere, and much more congenial to me. As for those priests, we have an...arrangement with them and their ilk. They do not interfere with the mine or openly proselytize their ridiculous faith in town, and I do not crush them, destroy the church they believe is safely hidden inside the mine, or report them to the secret police. They somehow heard about the radiogram Flinty sent and they assumed that they were going to be the target. Poor blighters seem to be convinced they are of great concern to the Commander-in-chief of Languedoc's armed forces. I doubt Flintlock could even pronounce Nuitari."
He picks up a biscuit and takes a bite, then yells back towards the kitchen. "Excellent biscuits, Corin. You've outdone yourself today." He turns back to you. "Your turn. Why are you here? Why does the capital care about some crazy mountain druid?"
Grin fiddles with a book entitled *Military tactics and their application to modern life.* While listening to the discussion. She is trying to draw as little attention as possible, she even has her arcane elements tucked in the deepest regions of her pack.
While he normally has a large appetite Nevlav only half heartedly eats his breakfast, as Graddor begins in on his explainations and answers he pipes up, "It is indeed part of that report. The Doctor is wanted for questioning pertaining to his techniques. There is a desire to understand more about sickness by the city officials and his help is crucial."
Graddor turns to look at the Gnome Paladin now, and after hearing Nevlav's response he smiles wanly, studying you.
DM Screen
He nods, accepting the explanation, seemingly satisfied for now. After appraising you for a few moments, he adds "I recognize your armor. Fought alongside a lot of your fellows during the war. Zealous lot. Didn't care for them much."
He turns his attention to the wider group. "Our shenanigans last evening has, regretfully, left me with a lot of work on my plate before my audience with Lady Raskiel this evening. Unless there is anything else, I can detail one of the lads to show you to the mountain pass that leads you up into the Corropolese Mountains so you can continue your task and return to Valance so the authorities can continue their...studies."
He returns his attention to the letter in front of him abruptly, apparently trying to dismiss you as curtly as possible.
Thalion finally sets down fork and knife and clears his throat before replying, "And I'm a woodland elf who has dedicated his life to preserving the natural world and its inhabitants, and yet here I am working for the very kingdom I so detest. Does that tell you anything about the severity and import of this situation, Captain?"
As usual Thalion struggles to keep derision from dripping off of the word "Captain" like so much butter melting on a biscuit.
Something about Thalion's sharp retort seems to sting the half-orc. Graddor stops writing mid-sentence and puts down the pen. "Oh, I know your type all too well. Did any of you serve in the War of Magick and Machines? I did." He says, without waiting for a response. "I spent the war hunting folk just like you, elf. So scared of progress and change, you huddle in the forests and swamps and call upon the old Gods to protect you. Didn't matter in the end though. We routed every one of you Followers of the Knife sympathizers and turned the legacy of people like Count Felix into ash. I have even less respect for you than I do for those Church of Nuitari kooks or true believers in Brocc's revolution like your companion here. At least they live in reality." As he speaks, Graddor gestures at Nevlav.
His voice gets progressively louder, drowning out the conversation in the room and causing even the soldiers at hte other table to fall into silence and stare, mouths agape, at their Captain continues to speak. "My time at war taught me two things. One, nothing matters, not even whatever pissant adventure you lot have deluded yourselves into thinking will change a damned thing. Two, every creature in this realm is at heart, a brutal, brutish animal, seeking to survive, get by and get whatever advantage they can life for themselves. You think any of you are serving the state out of some altruistic motive? Balls! You're all getting something out of this. I just don't know what...."
Noticing that the room is now silent, he stops talking, breathing heavily and clearly agitated.
Yorric sits forward and says in a quiet, empathetic voice. “I’m sorry, Captain. It must’ve been difficult. Working so hard to become a proud, respected soldier. Learning and even teaching respect, honor and patriotism. Then winding up here.”
Paladin - warforged - orange
Alden
Alden waits, listening to the Captain's explanation. He replies:
"I apologize, I do forget my manners most days" Alden says with a smile, "I am Inspector Alden Lostchild of the Royal Police Force of Valance. I do appreciate you taking the time out of your busy schedule to speak with us and, Admiral Flintlock" Alden puts a slight emphasis on the title and name, "said you were the man to speak to here in Yellow Creek."
Alden sits back in his chair for a moment then begins:
"I just have a few questions. if you don't mind Captain, then we will take you up on your gracious offer of getting someone to guide us." Alden smiles again.
Alden will ask a few questions, pausing to allow the Captain to answer. He will keep himself professional and genial to try to get the Captain to relax and, eventually, let something slip he normally wouldn't.
Persuasion: 18
"What do you mean the priests have their church, inside the mine?" Alden asks.
"And what do you know about this, Nuitari?"
"Do you know Dr. Aleksei? Have you ever spoken to him and do you have any insight on the man that may help us?
"You said you had an audience with Lady Raskiel this evening, does the Lady hold a political office here in the region?"
After Yoric offers his quiet, empathetic comment to Graddor, there is silence for a moment that is broken by a mechanical whirring sound. The steel boar that was resting under the table emerges and sits patiently at the feet of Graddor -- you swear, the metallic thing's tail seems to wag inquisitively. Graddor looks down, still breathing heavily, and smiles perhaps the first genuine smile you've seen from him this morning.
"Yes Porkins, I'm okay, old boy." He taps the automaton on the head and returns to his seat, seemingly back to his old self. He does not address your comment directly Yoric, and instead says, in his jaunty, cynical way. "People think war changes everything. They couldn't be wronger. Thousands of men and woman, orcs, dwarves, gnomes, elves and halflings die, a King or Emperor or Prime Minister gets to celebrate a rousing victory and people's lives go on. They don't bloody care about the rise and fall of nations. They just want to live their lives. King Brocc is a genius and a master political mind, but his revolution never took root in places like Yellow Creek or thousands of other little nameless villages and hamlets all throughout the kingdom. He's holding everything together by sheer force of will. When he dies, well, to use a bad metaphor, the machine is going to break down. I am here because I do not want to be anywhere near the capital when it does. And of course, because Kristoph Porkins here loves playing down in the mines, don't you, boy?" He says affectionately to the metal creature that has returned to a resting position below the table.
Whatever that episode Graddor experienced was, it didn't seem to bother his men too much. As soon as he sits back down, they resume their lively conversations, from what you can overhear, seem to revolve around what maidens in the village they're wooing, speculation of what Lady Raskiel is like in bed, and creepy things that are rumored to be down in the mines.
Only Corin Brightaxe and Graddor's automaton "pet" seem the slightest concerned about his well-being. As soon as Graddor sits, Brightaxe is at his side, pouring piping hot coffee into Graddor's tin mug. "Now Captain, you told me you'd eat. You know 'ow you get after a night out."
Graddor rolls his eyes at his aide-de-camp. "Honestly, Brightaxe, you're worse than my mother." As Alden lays out his questions, he seems amused by the half-elf's genteel manner. "A copper, eh? Should have guessed. You have the look about you. Since you indulged my....unorthodox views, I shall answer a few of your questions. Regarding those priests, they claim to be following Nuitari, who, in the old days was supposed to be the god of dark magic, or somesuch ridiculousness. He didn't have clerics back then, because anyone fool enough to worship him met a bad end. I suppose that's the flaw in censoring history books, eh? As for their church, I haven't seen it, but some of the lads have reported they've constructed some sort of shrine down one of the disused mine tunnels. Honestly, its just so boring. I mean, the least they could do is summon a succubus or something, eh? At least I can respect that."
As you ask about Aleksei, you notice that he is starting to eat, following Brightaxe's concern. "I met him about ten years ago. Half-elf about my age, looks like he can handle himself in a fight. I pulled him in when I was first assigned to Yellow Creek. With that name, I assumed he was some fanatical remnant of the Followers of the Knife," he pauses, and says significantly "Count Aleksander Felix? Anyway, I pulled him in, we had a chat and came to an understanding with him. No magic other than healing magic in town, and he was welcome to come and go as he pleased. He stuck to the deal pretty well. It was only Brightaxe slipping that detail into the report about two those poor railroad porters that triggered this. Poor blighter. I suppose you lot are taking him in to the secret police?" He says, clearly still fishing for more.
Finally, you see another slight smile come to his lips at the mention of Lady Raskiel. "Lady Raskiel is the mine operator, something she inherited from her husband, Hero of the Realm Count Boris Raskiel." He lips curl in a mocking sneer as he recites the last part. "She holds no political title, but as de facto employer of nearly everyone in town, she has an enormous say in the town's affairs." He doesn't elaborate any further.
Yoric leans in, an avid listener. “Do you like Yellow Creek?”
Insight- I want to see how Graddoc feels about the petty officer, lady raskiel, the deceased lord raskiel, and about being out here in general. I understand I might not get much info on each of these without more leading questions, I’m just putting it out there.
3
kristoph porkins distracts with its mechanical adorableness.
Paladin - warforged - orange
Alden
Alden listens to Graddor's answers, making mental notes to the answers then he will say:
"It's that part of the report that brings us, the part of the report about the 2 porters." Alden says, "Where these folk sick with the current ailment that plagues the realm or something else?"
Thalion just regards the captain in silence, an unimpressed sneer on his face. He crosses his arms over his chest but doesn't dare open his mouth for fear of sparking another outburst from Graddor.
Grin turns a page LOUDLY. You know, like when someone tries to let you know they're reading and not paying attention.
Graddor responds between bites, saying "It's better than being in the capital, but not as good as being aboard an airship," and truly, despite his seeming portrayal of an upper-class twit, he is hard to read, his sudden outburst aside.
Upon hearing your question, Alden, he calls Corin Brightaxe over once more. "I didn't ACTUALLY see the porters who fell ill. I was on...other business. Chief Brightaxe dealt with it. Corin, tell this lot about the porters."
From the dwarf's description, of a wasting disease that begins with aches and a high fever, eventually leading to hallucinations, it seems VERY similar, if not identical to the disease you all have had varying experience with.
"We quarantined the two of 'em in the dungeon in the basement, we did. Thought we were gonna lose 'em both, but sure enough, the 'alf-elf gent appeared and without a word, went right down to the dungeons and cured 'em both in a blink. Damnedest thing I ever saw. Before we even knew it, 'e was gone. Both of the sick folks were back at work a few days later." His eyes shine in wonder of this trick.
Graddor listens intently, finishing his breakfast and buttoning his jacket. As Corin finishes, he looks at you expectantly. "If there's anything else, we'll have to walk and talk. The morning shift is due at the mine shortly, and I'd like to be there. Make sure the Followers of Nuitari know we're watching. Otherwise, Chief Brightaxe can guide you to the pass."
Yoric looks to Alden and Nevlav for a plan.
Paladin - warforged - orange
"I think perhaps we should discuss our next course of action among ourselves before we set off," Thalion says coldly, before turning to the dwarf.
"Thank you for the hearty breakfast, we'll have need of your services again, I don't doubt."
Graddor looks at all of you, and shakes his head, unclear whether it is amusement or frustration. He starts to say something to you, Thalion but stops short and instead he begins walking for the door of the mess hall. Porkins, his mechanical companion, lags behind, sniffing at Grin's feet and waggling his backside.
"Porkins! Gods, man, you act like you've not seen a halfling before. Come, boy!"
Porkins waits expectantly, sitting on his hind legs now, in front of Grin.
Corin watches this, smiling warmly, then nods at Thalion. "Right you are, sir! I'll either be back in the kitchen or at the front desk, I will. When you're ready to leave for the Corropolese pass, come find me."