Hens in the Foxhouse

Astaban sighs slightly, as if expecting this assignment to come up.

The robed host shifts slightly to address Layna, his voice as placid and sonorous as ever. "Perhaps I was too kind in my selection of words. We have no wish that this drakon interfere with our operations any further." The hooded gaze returns to the center of the table, as if expecting additional questions.

Blake

Blake shakes the offered hand, while his other hand gathers his sleeve at the wrist. "Thanks," he says, with a flash of a smile.


By Laraoch, he's serious. He wracks his mind for what he might know about such a beast.

"What degree of material support can we expect in this endeavor? I'd like to speak to the quartermaster tonight as some materials may be hard to acquire." He turns to Layna and asks, "How big, and what did it look like?"

ooc

The halfling speaks up. "I will instruct the quartermaster to make available potions and scrolls applicable to this particular job. As for other equipment, you have our standard supply available as well as whatever you own from previous ventures."

The lanky auburn haired woman nods when she hears the clarification of the mission. "And what of what we find with the... drakon? Any gems, treasure, or coinage?" she queries the hooded figure. "And what of his remains? It was easy enough to push a goblin corpse down a mine shaft, but a drakon is a bit larger."

Turning toward the peasant who had been introduced as Blake she says with a peculiar Suderan accent, "A rather young blue dragon, he felled one of my original group mates with a lightning bolt about a month back. The dragon's probably been in that mine for a good six months - since the miners abandoned the mine ahead of Astan's army. When I last saw the dragon a month or so ago and he was probably a good five feet shoulder to shoulder and ten feet head to tail. He's kept well fed by a loyal pack of kobolds, so he'll likely be a bit larger when we return."

Turning toward the halfling she nods, "lightning resistance, things to silence our movements, things that will dispatch a room of kobolds quickly..." she thinks aloud. The half-elvish woman then queries, "And copies of the maps we brought back?" though from her inflection it is clear that this is a non-negotiable point.

Astaban quietly makes his way over to Sikhandyn, and asks quietly, "Sikhandyn, when you have a chance... could you examine the goods that we pulled out of the mine? I would like to see if I should be rid of them, or should keep them?"

The halfling grins. "Sounds like you have a plan in mind. I'll make sure you get copies of the maps. We want this to be a quick strike, of course--the less attention from the imperials, the better." He stands up and adds, "Meet back here in three days. Speak to the quartermaster today and he can make sure any special items are available for your timely departure." He and the hooded figure depart through the only door, leaving the rest of you silent in their wake.

OOC

Make specific requests in the Equipment OOC thread and we'll get a move on, targetting Wednesday 2100EST for the new thread and bonus rewards. Feel free to finish RPing here; after this, Sikhandyn and Methuselah will be separated from the group... until I decide otherwise

"I suppose you wish to know if any of your items radiate a magical aura, yes Astaban?" Sikhandyn whispers. "Let me check."

The diviner focuses his attention on the objects and mutters a few words. He then informs Astaban of the spell's outcome.

"Take good care of the others, Astaban... We shall meet again." Sikhandyn says before they part. The wizard's mind is obviously troubled by his imminent departure to track the necromancer. "Good thing I'll have a priest of Elawyr watching over me...".

Sofia Kinger

"Indeed, Sikhandyn... But I shall miss my brother." Sofia offered with a gentle smile in a sweet, melodic voice. "Farewell to both of you, and the best of luck."

The young priestess felt a strange sadness and sorrow at the thought of her companions' imminent departure - one of them she had come to consider as a father; the other she had to thank for saving her life... The wizard's encouragements and reproaches, the priest's concisiveness and protective aura - all had become second nature to her now.

One of the quartermaster's lackeys, a scrawny gnome fellow, opens the door and barges in, carrying with him seven small sacks. "Fer ye, the boss says," he grumbles in a curious form of greeting. He plops one down on the table in front of everyone except Blake; the leather bags make a distinct jingling noises as each hits the wooden table. "Lucky yer alive, after the trouble ye caused," the gnome grins as he shuffles past the wizard and back out the door.

Contents

Each sack contains 10gp and 7sp. It's a fair amount of coin in tax-heavy Astangard, amounting to almost a year's net pay for the average laborer (after the collectors have taken their share).