Outside the Tavern...
The bearded man lets out a long sigh, and strokes his beard. "That, I am afraid, I cannot answer. Not because I have no experience against them, but because, once again, they are each different. Some seem to see as we do, others follow scent. Others, even, seem to be undeterred by the loss of sight and smell both. But even the simplest may fall back on their nose, when the eyes are destroyed, we have found. Once again, you will learn the difference faster once you are in the field."
"As for if their magic may be disrupted...I do not know. Those few devotees of the Light who have joined our cause have been able to kindle a fear even in the most unintelligent, but I am no Priest or Wizard. I cannot be certain."
Inside the Tavern...
The tavern is empty when Wesley enters, save for an elderly man, sitting in a rocking chair in the corner, and a young woman who may be no older than twenty. Both are human. "The brandy has been confiscated by the army, sir," she replies, pulling out a stone tankard, "but we have some rum left in the stores, if that will serve you."
In the General Store...
(3+1)
"Uh..." Cooper shrugs as he hefts a few sets of brigandine over his shoulder, "if yer not countin' the Freewater Gobbos? I don't know, I guess not."
D'zelik pulls a few sets of leather armor from the shelves, bundling them in his arms. If there's anything special to be found here, he's not looking in the right places.
"Do yeh mind if I ask what tribe yer from?" Cooper continues on as you make your way back to the front of the store together, "M'pah was a trader, we spent some time in the Eriodos."
With the Captain...
(1d5: 2, 1d10: 2+1 | 1d10: 6+1, 5+1+1, 4+1)
"A pleasure, to all three of you!" Alis replies, shaking Sarek's hand. In response to Fibleck, he bends forward, squinting at the wall. "You are right, friend Fibleck! Flawless as ever!"
Flint lets out an irritated sigh, and begins to speak once more "Yes, well. If you're done with your little meet and greet, Alis, we'd best conti-"
He is cut off, once again, by a series of sudden shouts and frantic thundering of some mount.
Moments later a rider crashes through the palisade gate. Wood splinters fly through the air, and Fibleck is knocked aside (1d6: +2 subdual|-3 health) as the horse charges through the group!
Luckily, the sturdy dwarf maintains his balance, and his stocky hand wraps about the back of the beast's saddle. Sarek, standing nearby, takes hold of the reigns and quickly calms the creature down.
A thick lather of foamy saliva and blood cover this brown mare's snout, and several long, claw-like gashes cross the flanks, still bleeding. The rider, a human male, fares far worse. His left arm hangs limp, whatever injury which had removed the pauldron from his armor nearly took the arm with it. His helmet is askance atop his head, and blood drips like tears from a closed and bruised eye. As you calm the horse down, he begins to sway in his saddle and...drops. He slams to the ground with a thud.
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Topic: The Defense of Elise - Prologue: Bootcamp (Read 15211 times)