As was foretold, we've added advertisements to the forums! If you have questions, or if you encounter any bugs, please visit this thread: https://forums.penny-arcade.com/discussion/240191/forum-advertisement-faq-and-reports-thread/
Options
[IC] D&D4e - What Thou Seest is a hill with a door in it. No hobbit, though
Prester John
Registered User regular
Registered User regular
What Thou Seest, Write In a Book: An adventure for 6 first level characters
this is the IC thread only for the adventure. All OOC content should go in this thread.
The Cast of Characters
-Janus Portent, warlock/rogue, played by Horseshoe
-Raphael, fighter, played by Arasaki
-Nicola Giovanni, fighter
-Richard Swiftfoot, ranger, played by Dark_Side
-Riley Cyrus, bard, played by yours truly
Chapter 1: The Seven Stars
There are better places to be than the Seven Stars. This squat, low building perpetually smells of smoke, sweat, meat, and rot. It's dark: Most of the light comes from the fire that gutters in the stone hearth, with a few tallow lamps spread about the tables. It's smoky: There's no chimney; rather, the smoke from the fire escapes (or, mostly doesn't) from a hole in the center of the thatched roof. It's crowded, contributing no doubt to that odor of sweat.
But there are worse places to be, too. It's warm, at least, and the roof does keep out the chilly drizzle that's so common in Santo this time of year. The stew is not good, exactly, but it's filling. The whiskey, distilled by the owner himself in a pot still in the corner, is strong and cheap. Most importantly, if there are rumors to be heard in Santo, the Seven Stars is the place to hear them.
And indeed, rumors there are. A merchant from the Two Islands, southwest of here, on the coast, entertains questions. He tells of Duke Brant's short, bloody campaign to retake the town of Knightsen, which had attempted to break away during the war of succession. Brant had mauled Knightsen's militia in the field, and then marched into the town and put the town council to death. Their heads now adorned Knightsen's palisade. As to what the Duke would do next, the merchant can only speculate, but no one is ruling out the possibility of more ambitious campaigns to come.
Another traveler, a priest from Greyport, on his way to take over a parish church in Stone Pines, gives the news from the north. Heresy was in the air in Greyport; a charismatic preacher and more than twenty of his followers had been burned at the stake to cleanse the city of their taint. No one was sure, though, if they'd been rooted out, or merely pruned back.
There were problems closer to home, too. Farmers were complaining that their animals were being slaughtered in the night and left there, bloody in their stalls. Neither wolves nor foxes nor bears; there was no sign that the killers had fed on the bodies, or tried to drag them away. Merchant caravans had reported being attacked by swift, darkling figures, who would cut the throats of guards and merchants and run off almost as soon as they arrived. Most tragic of all, as far as Santo was concerned, a roving patrol of the town's small army, which had been looking for bandits, had been attacked and wiped out to a man, but for one survivor.
It is this survivor, along with the aldermen of Santo, with whom you have an audience tomorrow. It had taken the aldermen a long time to recognize the problem – wouldn't want to scare away trade, after all – but, having done so, were determined to end the attacks. They'd put out word through the trade routes and with the Sunset King's representative on his twice-yearly survey of the King's dominions: Dangerous work, reward offered, all comers welcome.
So far, you're it. The only group brave, or stupid, or greedy enough to face whatever is out there. So you sit in the Seven Stars, and enjoy the company, and drink your whiskey and eat your stew. After tomorrow, it may be a while before you enjoy hot food and strong drink again.
this is the IC thread only for the adventure. All OOC content should go in this thread.
The Cast of Characters
-Janus Portent, warlock/rogue, played by Horseshoe
-Raphael, fighter, played by Arasaki
-Nicola Giovanni, fighter
-Richard Swiftfoot, ranger, played by Dark_Side
-Riley Cyrus, bard, played by yours truly
Character backgrounds can be found in this thread.
Chapter 1: The Seven Stars
There are better places to be than the Seven Stars. This squat, low building perpetually smells of smoke, sweat, meat, and rot. It's dark: Most of the light comes from the fire that gutters in the stone hearth, with a few tallow lamps spread about the tables. It's smoky: There's no chimney; rather, the smoke from the fire escapes (or, mostly doesn't) from a hole in the center of the thatched roof. It's crowded, contributing no doubt to that odor of sweat.
But there are worse places to be, too. It's warm, at least, and the roof does keep out the chilly drizzle that's so common in Santo this time of year. The stew is not good, exactly, but it's filling. The whiskey, distilled by the owner himself in a pot still in the corner, is strong and cheap. Most importantly, if there are rumors to be heard in Santo, the Seven Stars is the place to hear them.
And indeed, rumors there are. A merchant from the Two Islands, southwest of here, on the coast, entertains questions. He tells of Duke Brant's short, bloody campaign to retake the town of Knightsen, which had attempted to break away during the war of succession. Brant had mauled Knightsen's militia in the field, and then marched into the town and put the town council to death. Their heads now adorned Knightsen's palisade. As to what the Duke would do next, the merchant can only speculate, but no one is ruling out the possibility of more ambitious campaigns to come.
Another traveler, a priest from Greyport, on his way to take over a parish church in Stone Pines, gives the news from the north. Heresy was in the air in Greyport; a charismatic preacher and more than twenty of his followers had been burned at the stake to cleanse the city of their taint. No one was sure, though, if they'd been rooted out, or merely pruned back.
There were problems closer to home, too. Farmers were complaining that their animals were being slaughtered in the night and left there, bloody in their stalls. Neither wolves nor foxes nor bears; there was no sign that the killers had fed on the bodies, or tried to drag them away. Merchant caravans had reported being attacked by swift, darkling figures, who would cut the throats of guards and merchants and run off almost as soon as they arrived. Most tragic of all, as far as Santo was concerned, a roving patrol of the town's small army, which had been looking for bandits, had been attacked and wiped out to a man, but for one survivor.
It is this survivor, along with the aldermen of Santo, with whom you have an audience tomorrow. It had taken the aldermen a long time to recognize the problem – wouldn't want to scare away trade, after all – but, having done so, were determined to end the attacks. They'd put out word through the trade routes and with the Sunset King's representative on his twice-yearly survey of the King's dominions: Dangerous work, reward offered, all comers welcome.
So far, you're it. The only group brave, or stupid, or greedy enough to face whatever is out there. So you sit in the Seven Stars, and enjoy the company, and drink your whiskey and eat your stew. After tomorrow, it may be a while before you enjoy hot food and strong drink again.
Prester John on
0
Posts
"Warren."
"This probably isn't the best idea is it? I mean, given the way you trounced me when we sparred now and then...well, lets hope the fact that I'm ready for 'em will make a difference. Whoever "they" are."
He laughed to himself, the sound coming out harsh and dry. He reached forth and grasped the bottle of whiskey, taking another drink and clearing his throat.
"Hrnn...you've got to do what you've got to do though huh? That's what you always said. You wouldn't want those bastards going free for what they did. If not for what they did for you than the rest of the caravan. I don't know about doing this for those poor sods but...I'll see what I can do."
He sighed and scratched his head, fingers running through messy blonde hair. He seemed to grasp for more words, but could find none. He released the beads, letting them clatter upon the table. Waiting for the appointed time. There was no such thing as soon enough.
!Ready
White FC: 0819 3350 1787
Ready
It was good to be back, but there was a dark mood about the tavern. Rumors and accusations of dark powers abroad in the countryside concerned the townsfolk, and they concerned Francisco. Upon hearing the call or arms raised in Santo, Francisco knew that would he answer.
After a few drinks, Francisco began to say his farewells. It could be a long and exciting day tomorrow, the beginning of a chance to prove his faith and do God's own work in the world. It wouldn't do to drink to excess this evening.
Ready
Casting his gaze around the room, he saw several new faces in the town, no doubt here for the job on offer. Rafael wondered if any would assist him with his ultimate goal, but he suspected that he would need to seek allies from further afield. But still, for the short term...
The ranger looked up at the man before his table, who sat down without asking... at least he had brought a second beer. As he passed Richard a drink, the ranger noticed the man had an odd pattern of blue star tattoos on his left palm.
"Yes. You're the fortune teller, right?"
"That's me, my friend. Janus Portent. Reader of palms, cards and stars; past, present and future. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir."
"Sure."
"So... I've heard of you, and you've heard of me. Men of distinction, yes? A'course we are. Somebody has to be. I expect we're both going to be talking to the Alderman tomorrow, yes?"
Richard knew fortune telling was somewhat frowned upon, but the people loved their mystical delights so it was tolerated. He was keen enough to know he didn't have all the answers, and there may be others who functioned on some other plane who could see things he could not. So he took the beer and began to size up his companion, to see the measure of this man. On an adventure like this, he'd take all the help he could get.
"Let's find out, shall we? Cut the deck."
Richard split the deck into two piles, somewhere near the middle. Janus began drawing from the cards chosen by Richard.
"Hm... Two of Swords Upright... crossed by Strength... Five of Cups reversed below... Moon Reversed beside... and above... oh my. The Tower."
"So what does that mean?"
"It means that you are a man both courageous and skilled, fated to bring peace where there is strife. Though you are possessed of an inner virtue, in your past there are events of poor luck and treacherous rumors that have that have made a road of suffering that you have walked to find your place. Hidden forces and trickery surround you now... and ahead lies a challenge the likes of which you have never seen. But do not despair in the days ahead, when it seems as though victory lies too far away. Push onward, for at the end glory awaits."
"Hm. What about you?"
"Me?" Janus smiled widely, exposing the glint of a gold tooth at the right corner of his mouth. "The stars like me, my friend. It's gotten me this far... I expect it'll continue so long as I keep paying attention."
"Nicely done friend, I suspect you could woo a priest himself into the arms of vice, I should hope that reading was free? No doubt that this task shall not be easy, but it will at least be an interesting one with the likes of you around I should think. I shall make sure to try and keep you out of trouble."
“And then, and then,” the dowdy merchant whispered grimly, gesticulating like a bad performer, “Duke Brant marched his footsoldiers into town, rounded up the alderman and
put them all to the axe. Oh there was a trial of course. Outdoors, and the whole town showed up. They couldn’t afford not to. But the end result is the same.” The man peered around dramatically, “their heads now decorate the spears around Knightsen. But what’s worrying Nicola, what’s worrying is that the very same could happen here, after the Duke has resupplied.”
The blond haired mercenary grinned and stood up, passing over another glass of amber liquid in thanks for the story. His eyes scanned the smoky room and as the moments passed in the evening, he moved from table to table. He chatted with sullen farmers who became more loquacious with mouthfuls of drink, and comparing flights on arrows with the local unwashed hunters, and always the question of the local wildlife was brought up.
A few coins may have flowed from his purse, but Nicola knew it was better than blood from his veins. Knowledge was power, knowledge was survival.
And with that thought he spent the rest of the evening watching the tattooed fortune teller. Unlike most of the academy denizens he’d seen this one seemed firm of body and mind, clearly someone who made things happen. He stayed and chatted for a short while before heading up to his room to ready for the next day.
!Ready whenever you are
Rising up from his table, he stumbled slightly as he walked over to where the fortune teller was sat. Slamming a silver piece onto the table top, he coldly looked into the man's eyes.
"What's my fortune then, seer?"
The air went out of the room. As if an invisible signal had passed between them, the taverngoers began to edge away from Raphael and Janus. Seemed like a fight was brewing. And while ordinarily a good brawl was nothing but a bit of harmless fun (well, except for that one sot who'd lost his eye three years back -- oh, and poor old Richard Bronzesmith, God rest his soul, a real shame about him), but Three-Chop Raph seemed drunk enough -- and was certainly mean enough -- to cause a real mess if he got his dander up.
Janus slid the silver piece back across the table and waved at a barmaid.
"That one's free, friend."
"I like you, seer. More drink!" he said, waving the barmaid over. It was going to be a long night.
!Ready and stuff
The next morning dawned unseasonably cold. At the Accounting, this would be called a bad omen under which to start a quest, though of course that would not take place for many years hence, and had the benefit of hindsight.
Built of a soft, sand-colored stone and roofed with colorful glazed tiles, Santo's town hall was the grandest structure in town, apart from the church, which still wasn't saying much in those days. Santo's flag flew from a stubby tower atop the hall: two black bears rampant on a field or above a chevron, the setting sun of the Sunset King on a field argent below the chevron. The grounds were patrolled by guards, who were shivering on this day, their thin coats doing little to protect them against the wind.
A footman escorted the party into the hall proper, which was richly hung with tapestries depicting the town's founding and history -- though presumably the weavers had taken some liberties: it was doubtful that, during the War, God had actually lifted Santo whole into the air in order to spare it from devastation.
Assembled in front of the party were four men. Two of these men the party knew on sight. The first, Alderman Nathan, was one of the wealthiest men in Santo, one of the most powerful, and one of the most ruthless. That he had to be: while most wealthy men had the courtesy not to bed women before they had reached puberty, it was an open secret that Alderman Nathan saw no point in waiting that long. His wealth ensured his survival, but if he slipped, they'd feed his manhood to the dogs, and everyone knew it.
The second was Father Grayson, Santo's parish priest. While he didn't have an official position in the town's government, he was often brought in by the aldermen to lend an imprimateur of virtue to their proceedings, and Father Grayson was most content to lend a hand so long as the aldermen kept giving him money towards the completion of the church's long-overdue nave.
The third, a small man wearing the tabard of Santo's army, was presumably the survivor of the patrol that had been wiped out.
The fourth, surprisingly, was a monk wearing the gray-trimmed-in-scarlet robes of the Order of Saint Mnemonia. Surprising, because their order usually abjured politics as almost an article of faith. If the Mnemonic Order was taking an interest in this meeting, it had the possibility of being more interesting than the party had, at first realized.
Alderman Nathan spoke first: "Greetings, friends, greetings, and welcome. Please sit down," he waved towards a row of chairs. "Myself, you know, of course" -- a pause to make sure that the party did, of course, know who he was -- "and you likely know Father Grayson as well. With me too is Brother Tendall of the Order of Saint Mnemonia, here on special dispensation from Friar James at the Abbey of the Sacrament. And this young man is Averil Camby, of the Santo Halbardiers. He has quite a story to tell you. Shall we begin?"
Probably a mistake, he thought. The man with the golden tooth looked like the sort he'd been rounded up to "deal with" in his neighborhood now and again. Why the hell he was here, he couldn't imagine. The priest was...well, a priest. Simple as that, as far as Klaus was concerned. It was good to have one around. The rest he wasn't sure what to make of just yet. Time would tell though.
Returning his fullest attention to the four men before them (hopefully without anyone noticing it had left them in the first place), he waited. Time for those lovely details.
White FC: 0819 3350 1787
Janus folded his hands and adopted a serious expression as he tried to do his best imitation of a civic leader.
Nicola bowed in respect to the child fuc--his future boss, the Alderman and listened intently.
“Terrified, the man looks terrified,†Nicola thought staring at the last of the Santo Halbardiers. He felt a twinge of professional sympathy. “He hides it well, but its in his eyes. The thousand-yard stare of a soldier who’s seen too much.â€
He made a mental note to get to know his comrades and their talents quickly. Something told him this was more than just drunken farmers stories of the boogie man.
The monk was much more interesting. Francisco decided to keep his mouth shut until more was revealed.
Camby gulped at a cup of water. He appeared to be trying to steady himself. When he spoke, his words were halting and his intonation flat.
"You'll probably know that most of Santo's farmers live close to town. Easy to protect; not much trouble there. A few farmers and ranchers live further out. Between wolves, bears, and bandits, they'll sometimes have problems. So we -- that Halbardiers, that is -- send out patrols. Each patrol takes about three days; each squad does one patrol per month. My squad was up last.
We went to Gruenwald's ranch first. Old Mr. Gruenwald was in quite a lather. Seems all of his cattle had been killed in the night. Slaughtered, really. He swore up and down that it hadn't been any kind of man or beast he knew. Seems, you see, that whoever killed the animals had torn out their throats and left them there to rot. None were eaten; none were carried away. We said we'd look into it.
Ranger Johns found some tracks leading away from the ranch. Wasn't anything he'd seen before, he said. Like a lizard, he said, except too big for any lizard he'd seen, and the gait was different. Now, I don't know anything about that, that's just what Ranger Johns said, but he knows -- he knew -- his craft.
They led away from Santo, into the woods. Alright. We followed them for another couple of hours, until it got dark. We made camp at Big Rock Clearing. They hit us that night.
First we knew anything was wrong was when Uhler screamed. We ran over. They'd laid his stomach open to his spine, everything all spread about. At first there wasn't nothing else to be seen, but then they came out from the trees.
They may have had tracks like lizards, but they wasn't no lizards I know of. Mostly claws and teeth, it looked like. Their skin was dark, almost black"
"The servants of the Enemy," muttered Father Grayson, making the sign of protection against demons. Seeing this, Alderman Nathan devoutly made the sign himself. Brother Werden, the party noticed, did not.
Camby went on, seeming not to have even noticed the interruption: "and their eyes were orange, and seemed to glow like a cat's. And they was all claws and teeth, but held long knives in their hands. And then they came at us. We ran. I'm not proud to say it, but to a man, we all of us ran. I ran the fastest."
He looked up, seeming to notice the party for the first time. "You'll run too, if you're smart."
Alderman Nathan snorted good-naturedly, as if dealing with a naughty puppy. "Nonsense, young man. These lads are here to stop these monsters."
Camby laughed. It was not a happy sound. "Oh aye? Are they indeed? These things wiped out a full squad of Halbardiers, and against them they've got...who? A priest, a fortune teller, and Three Chop Raph? Sorry friend, but you'll find it harder to whack summat as isn't tied town. You'll b . . . "
Brother Tendall spoke quietly: "That's enough, son."
Camby gulped hard, and looked like he had something more to say, but merely glowered and shoved himself further down into his seat.
Alderman Nathan never lost his avuncular pose. "We-e-e-e-ll now. All very interesting, I'm sure." And here, he gestured at the party: "And now, I'm sure you'll have some questions for the poor lad? Or if not, we'll go on."
"My own question is for you Brother Werdan. You don't seem convinced that these creatures are servants of the Enemy. Why is this?"
He decided it would be wise to just wait and let the others ask their questions first while he observed, no sense all of them asking questions at once.
He sucked on his teeth for a moment, then fixed his gray eyes on Camby. “I believe him,” he stated flatly, turning to the Alderman and his companions. “I believe him because his story doesn’t quite fit together right.”
“Beasts kill for food, men kill for profit, or to take away the livestock of another. Some kill for pleasure.” he gnawed his lower lip for a moment, eyes distant before continuing, “but never have I heard of a beast killing efficiently. Ripping the throats out and leaving without playing with the kill? That doesn’t make sense to me. Only something with a purpose could do that.”
“And … describing clawed lizards is one thing. If you were a drunk or making this up you would have mentioned they use their talons. But knives? Humans use tools, not beasts.” Nicola turned to the Alderman, “Despite your lad’s monstrous description, sounds like a group of efficient killers. Perhaps an invasion force. That now, will certainly cost some gold for our expertise.” He smiled.
“These things were tracking you and lead you into an ambush and they can see in the dark, that much seems clear to me. I need to know a few details. What armour was Uhler wearing when he got cut open?”
“We’ll need you to describe these tracks and a map of both where you found them, and other instances around the town where there have been sightings. How long ago did this start? How many of them approximately were there?” Nicola queried. “And Brother Tendall,” Nicola nodded politely to the man, “I want to hear your take on this, sir.”
Alderman Nathan looked towards Averill Camby, almost pleading him to reply. Camby laughed again, but said nothing. Nathan looked slightly unnerved.
"W-e-e-e-e-e-ll . . . certainly many of our outlying farmers have reported attacks on their farms. And to be sure, Camby's squad hasn't returned."
Brother Tendall coughed. "I do try to remain anonymous, but it's not been ten minutes since we've been introduced. I'll forgive the offense, though." He grinned wryly. "Truth be told, I have no idea whether the Enemy's about. He may well be. Certainly his servants roam the land, and certainly his works are many. But there are all types of man and beast that do harm, and we can't blame all of them on the Enemy. That doesn't mean, mind you, that we're not faced with a serious problem, here. Supernatural or no, something's happening here."
Camby spoke again. The mania was out of his voice; it was flat and affectless once more. "We don't wear armor when we're on patrol. Too heavy. It weighs us down."
"I've told you what I know about the tracks. As for maps, what am I, a scribe? I can give you directions to Gruenwald's ranch, and the other outlying farms and ranches, as well as Big Rock Clearing, where they hit us, but that's all I can do."
"If I knew, I'd tell you."
"Enough. Look, I've told you what I know."
Brother Tendall steepled his fingers. "Well. First, please don't call me sir. Call me just "Brother," if you need call me anything but my name. Second. Hrm. My take? My take is that something bad is happening in the farms and ranches outlying Santo, but we don't yet know what. My take is that we should find out what that bad thing is, and get as much information as possible on it. My take is that, if possible, we should stop that bad thing. But one thing at a time. Let's first learn what we're dealing with."
"Camby, you were asked to stop your story earlier, I would like to know what you had wanted to say, and..you might as well give us directions to where this occurred while you're at it, if you're willing of course."
"Nobody has asked the most important question yet. What's the pay for risking our lives for you on this?" he asked, glaring at the Alderman.
Shaking his head he continued, his brow unfurrowing somewhat. Turning his attention to the Halberdier he spoke up, "I can take those directions while the rest of the lot be worryin' about coin. Sooner we have those the sooner we can bloody get out of here and get this over with, come what may."
He scrutinized Camby carefully as he addressed the man, looking for some kind of flaw in the mask of trauma. He didn't quite buy this story of Lizardmen but damn if the man's face wasn't convincing. Still, just because he thought he saw such a thing didn't mean it was true. Coulda been savages after all, wearing lizard skins or something. Klaus didn't dwell on the issue of "where the hell would they have gotten lizard skins that large". The human mind was, after all, remarkably good at avoiding unpleasant issues.
White FC: 0819 3350 1787
"I think we've learned all there is to know here. Further investigation shall require an expedition. Shall we make plans for our journey and compensation?"
Francisco was a man of God, but ink and parchment did not pay for itself. He did not mind getting paid for his efforts, especially if some of that money came from the likes of Alderman Nathan.
Camby laughed again. "What I wanted to say? I wanted to say that if you go after those things, you're going to your deaths, as sure as they'd had old Raph there do the job. But let me not stop foolishness in the service of greed. I hope they pay you well, and up front. As for directions, aye, easy enough."
Camby dictated directions to Klaus and Richard, starting from the Gruenwald ranch.
Alderman Nathan hawed. Nathan had not liked the executioner when he'd been in service of the town, and liked him no more now that he was unemployed and, apparently, irritated.
"That depends, doesn't it? You'll receive a small stipend up front, say 50 gold, to compensate you for your time and the cost of any supplies you might need before setting out. After that, well, let's just see how well you can solve our problem, shan't we? Kill the things that have been troubling our farmers, and you'll be rewarded generously."
Brother Tendall spoke up: "I can't speak for the town, but I'd add that the Mnemonic Order would be extremely grateful for any information you can provide on these creatures, including any clue as to where they might come from, or where they're living now."
And "because that was a sweetass somersault" is not a reason to give you more money.
Nicola put his shield down and stretched his arms for a moment. "With all due respect Alderman," he said as he sauntered over to an iron poker in a nearby corner. "You are hiring some of the best, and we work a lot more efficiently with an incentive. Better to clear these monsters before the neighboring duke turns his eye on this town."
Nicola flexes and tries to bend the iron poker into a knot.
Athletics Test (1d20+9=15)
As for your incentive, I assure you that, should you complete this task for us, you'll be generously remunerated. But you'll understand, I hope, why it's not in the town's best interests to lavish you with gold before you've even set one foot out of town. Where are our assurances that you wouldn't simply take the money and run off? No, better, I think, to keep it the way we have it. The 50 gold should be more than adequate to provision yourselves."
Brother Tendall nodded his head. "Aye, Godspeed. And please remember, any information you might find about these creatures, anything at all, will be very useful to the Order, and will be rewarded."
A few more minutes passed as Camby described to the party the locations of the outlying farms and ranches and gives you directions to Big Rock Clearing, and then one of the alderman's functionaries interposed himself. "Excuse me, sirs, Alderman Nathan has authorized me to present you with this payment in advance of your services." He handed over a small pouch in which jingled some gold coins. "The Alderman has given word that you're to have access to the Halbardier's supply room. If you're ready, I'll take you there now?"
The functionary led the party out of the Hall to the Halbardier's barracks, which sat across the courtyard, and, after explaining the situation to the Halbardier's duty captain (who grumbled something about Goddamn politicians and how it was hard enough to keep his men supplied as it was), brought the men to the supply room.
"I think you folks can take priority when it comes to weapons and the like. I've got what I might need. Anything more than some knives and a stout bludgeon likes on m'hip is just gonna get wrapped around my own head."
Pausing, the man took a moment to consider before adding in his typical low rumble.
"And uh...I'm thinking maybe we should head to the Widows place first? What with the patrol never makin' it to her, the old bird could be in a bit of trouble. Or dead."
White FC: 0819 3350 1787
"Fine by me if we check the widow out, though we should probably stop at the site of the attack on the way there too."
Seeing nothing of interest or better quality than his own gear, Francisco decided to take nothing. The poorly provisioned Halberdiers needed everything they could get, especially with servants of the Enemy running around.