Fallion listens to what the Kobold has to say about local disturbances. "Hm. Trade, huh. Vital to any economy and this place looks like it could use revitalization. Perhaps not glamorous but the injection of fresh goods and coin will help, I'm sure."

Maeve is at a glance, obviously a woman of the faith. She stands at a height that's a bit above average, with a fairly strong build considering her profession. Clad in chainmail, the vestments of a church nun was put overtop of it. A shield slung over her back carried the symbol of the Church, and a mace clanked at her hip. With her hood down, her slightly dour expression and long braided red hair were visible as she started back towards her chair. The limp she had spoke of an old wound, not properly healed. The squint she wore spoke to the fact that she had indeed, noticed Grunhilda looking at her after turning around.

Scab angrily hisses at the woman who had pushed him aside. Although he was certain she only meant to make room for herself, his twenty five-odd pounds of weight flies off the chair, exposing his skin to the light he feared. Hurriedly rewrapping himself in his shawls, he clambers back onto the stool, needing to stand upright on the stool to make eye contact with the aggressor. “Scab doesn’t know you, and nor does he like you. Now, Gunhilda,” he says, turning around. ”Yes. Scab knows many things about the Howling Woods, but everything comes at a price.” He will then hold out a tiny hand, barely managing to close half the distance between the two chairs. Turning to the man, he extends the same hand. “Scab is only interested in the trade at the moment. If there is coin to be had, Scab will be there.”

Blinking rapidly, she looked at Scab before realizing what exactly she had done. A hand flies to her mouth for a moment before coming back down, shaking her head for a moment. "My apologies... Scab, I didn't mean to push you that hard. From the depths of my heart, I am sorry." She bows her head for a couple moments as well, in a generally apologetic gesture.  She really hadn't meant to shove the kobold from its chair, really needed to mind her own strength. What if it had been a child!

 Fallion downs the rest of his ale and combs one hand through his hair. "You may as well work for the coin if you know it's a job. I'm sure the merchant would pay at least 100 gold per person should he get his information. New trade routes, better coin flow, maybe even more hired guards. All those who are involved wins. If we go and search for the root of these rumors, are you able to take the role of local guide and scout?"

Having said that, he gives a nod of passing acknowledgement to the holy-woman (Maeve).

Scab nods in acceptance of the apology and begins to mouth out numbers, counting on his fingers. Seemingly satisfied and allured by the thought of 100 gold pieces, he eagerly replies, “Scab would be happy to search! For precious things...my precious things...”

(He highballed the heck out of that. He doesn't know it though. I'm expecting like 70g per person maybe. Also Maeve can feel free to join in if she wants, Fallion just doesn't have a reason to think she'd be interested at the moment.)

"Excellent. That is perhaps one of the most important roles to this task. What of you, Gunhilda?" He looks at her expectantly.

(I figured that much. Scab may not be able to even count to 100.)

“That seems fair, my one and only quest is to rid the world of evil.” She says majestically in agreement and puts a couple of coins in Scabs hand as agreed for the information, then looks over at Maeve “Pardon me for staring, you don’t really see ladies of a church wondering these parts, what brings you here?” 

(wait how many are you allowed in a group?)

She let out a sigh of relief at the accepted apology, before turning her attention over to Grunhilda as she addressed her. Blinking a few times, she canted her head to the side before shrugging. "Depends on what you mean, miss. If you mean the tavern, I came here to get myself some food. I much rather pay for it, and leave what's at the church for those in need. If you mean Trishdale in general..." She reached down to her shield, shifting it a bit so that it sat more comfortable before continuing. "It is a new field, a new flock. One without the briars and weeds that choke the one I previously tended. I wish to see it flourish."

“It won’t be doing much flourishing with the evil that sweeps this land, so perhaps a lady of the church might be willing to help and clear this horror, I know the lord’s prayer and church knowledge can come in quiet useful with such terrors.” Gunhilda expressed, she was called Gunhilda rather than Grunhilda as her mother was Sarah Winchester a famed inventor of weaponry, especially firearms and so aptly named her daughter after her trade, while Warkiller was from her father. Great Hunter Ludwig Warkiller and as you can probably tell this family main line of work was monster hunting.

Scab quickly takes the coins and retreats his limb back into the rustling mass of clothes on the stool. “Howling Woods, yes...Scab doesn’t like being watched. Howls at the night. Scab doesn’t like dogs. Scab would like to help rid the world of them, unless, of course, Scab might die.”

(I would be happy to form a party with Fallion, Gunhilda, Maeve, and myself to investigate Howling Woods or the trade route near the Lower Mountains!)

Gunhilda makes a mental note of that, because changing during a full moon though she can control herself and is a member of the Lycan Order, she’s terrifying and when she transforms and has a blood lust that only evil can fill, if there’s evil around she will sniff them out and she will hunt them down like an animal, even though she is completely tame and in control of herself, so wolf vs wolf would be quite handy in this situation “Are they normal wolves or are they werewolves?” She inquired 

(there aren’t a lot of quests left, so I think we have room for one or two more people to join? Which will bring us up to 5-6 ratio) 

"I am willing to do what it takes to see this town flourish. At least here, the weeds can be pulled out by the roots and burned. They do not masquerade as crops..." She grumbled that last line to herself, shaking her head a bit. Best not dwell on such matters longer than necessary. That was back there, and she was here now. "It does not matter to me if it takes charity work or faith and steel, I am willing."

“Then you seem like my type of nun and I’d like to do business with you.” She told her as she put another coin on the counter and asked the bartender if she could buy Maeve a round, there is four here of men and women just crazy enough to face this evil, but Gunhilda is looking for one or two more willing to join their cause. 

Just then, a tall male figure strides in, his battered leather coat clearly visible and contrasting with the bright steel of two well-used shortswords at both sides and a longbow and full quiver on his back. His facial features are all but obscured by a full face mask with nothing more than eyeholes, and a worn wide-brimmed perched on his head with the look of a traveler who had graduated from the college of hard knocks. He walks over to the revelers congregated together, sits down and orders a drink. Then he speaks:

"So I heard that you're looking for a few others to join you, eh? I'll throw in with you. Mind if I have your names?"

“I am Gunhilda the Warkiller.” She said solemnly, she has a very strong with a bow of her head and you can hear a very strong Glaswegian accent , you can tell from her rough and scrappy facial marks, that this is a renowned warrior and slayer of evil, protector of the innocent and mysterious loner that seems to have more secrets about her that she originally let’s on, with first glance “Who are you and what’s your profession? I don’t work with just anyone.” 

The small mound of rags emits a harsh cackling sound. "Scab doubts half the new arrivals will live a week!" It promptly shuffles a bit, and another coin gets flung across the countertop to the bartend. "Scab needs something strong. Not much. Scab is small."

Fallion basically ignores the Kobold's comments. It's a Kobold, after all. Can't expect much from them in terms of reason. Gunhilda's penchant for the dramatic draws a sigh out of him though.

He picks up the mug that Gunhilda had bought him and starts drinking that after raising it once at the shield bearing priestess. "And what do you go by, holy woman? I am Fallion. Just Fallion."

(@DnDShadow5e

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