trulyElse

Dejrik Garraksen Dejrik takes a long, exhausted breath, hearing the lie being used by the party. He does nothing to contradict it, though he does begin to brace himself for the worst, his shield's grip clutched as tight as a climber's rope.

Dejrik Garraksen "I can't imagine it's a healthy diet to be living off such things ..." Dejrik mutters, watching whatever the lantern manages to illuminate for lack of anything better to focus on. "Surely it'd be better to catch coneys or something."

Sorry, must have been tired when I first read the fight end message.

Dejrik Garraksen "Blasted thing ..." Dejrik half-shouts as he brings his mace to bear against the emerging beast. "I'll have your hide for a helmet liner!"

Always Dejrik setting the monsters off ... Maybe he should get into pest control after this. :P

Dejrik Garraksen "What a choice of words ..." Dejrik mutters to himself. As he wanders through the room, poking random pieces of furniture with the base of his shield, he moves up to the fireplace and kneels before it, studying the stonework and its lack of contents "It doesn't seem like he uses this room for much. We should press on."

Dejrik Garraksen Dejrik furrows his brow and checks the two weapons on his belt, before turning to Stoyan. "He swore on my mace, didn't he? To behead something with a mace is no mean feat ... what kind of savage does h- ah ... right ... right ..." Dejrik adjusts uncomfortably in his armour. His eyes watch all of Yorp's subtle movements, from finger positioning to shifting weight, yet he doesn't seem to be focused on it, his mind in this moment all too present yet a thousand miles away.

Dejrik Garraksen "That's settled."  Dejrik says to the party at large, putting his mace back on his belt. "Until anything proves otherwise, I trust him." He turns to Yorp. "I trust you. I hope you appreciate what that means."

Dejrik Garraksen Dejrik scratches his chin briefly, contemplating. He then approaches Yorp as he pulls out his mace. He stops a step and a half away from the kobold, holding the mace steady before him. "Place your hand on the mace's head and swear to it." he says. "Swear you will do what you can to guide your people out to safety, and that you will do nothing to harm our party, nor to protect the wizard we are here to claim, lest the mace's head find your own. If you are willing to do that, you'll have my trust, at least."

A reasonable request.

Take care, Scarecrow. You were a positive influence on the story.

Dejrik Garraksen Dejrik cracks his knuckles, and a cervical vertebra or two, and nods to Stoyan. Failing to be prepared for digging - worse, being outshone by an elf in its regard - was enough of a disgrace in front the kobold. Though he never considered himself a proud man, Dejrik's Dwarven pride needed a win, and doing the work of two or more kobolds each was a perfect opportunity.

Dejrik Garraksen Dejrik winces, realising the party that's half Dwarf may have no equipment for digging between them, and that the Elf could point this out at any time. Upon realising that he was being a little racist in order to pre-empt racist comments, he shakes his head, returning to the much more tolerable anti-kobold racism. "We're not going to have to use their equipment, are we?"

Hope he recovers well, then.

Dejrik may be projecting. :P