Skapti looks at the handsome young man, the spittle dripping off of his chin. "No. Man is laughing at Skapti, and Skapti break he leg, try to take he woman. Then mans in same shirts grab Skapti and put he here, say for long time. Never say why Skapti here. Was man a bandit?" He asks, genuinely curious.

The halfling just shakes his head, exasperated with the horny man's thick head. "Not kill any tallfolks... here... yet." His hand indicates the crier once more, talking slowly as if to a slow child "The. Bandits."

Skapti sighs and goes back to idly kicking his feet.
Now that I think about it, killing is probably not a stocks-worthy offense...

The penalty for unrepentant banditry is death by sword or hanging, that should give a slight point of reference

An Exceedingly Confused Man (with Tall)

The tall man frowns more, his face lined with wrinkles on top of wrinkles as he tries to work out what the halfling is saying. Realizing he's not getting anyway, he tries a different approach. Abyssal: "Hello traveler. My name is Magnolia. What is your name? Why are you in the stockades?" Maybe the fellow was touched by demons and would recognize his own tongue.

Also, this is a general prelude, that I happen to picture in the market square, maybe your particular PC is someplace else, in a bar or on the wild, feel free to take advantage of the looseness of the situation. If bonds start to form here all the better. Don't worry the game itself will be a bit more structured.

The feet stop swinging as the horny man starts to make funny sounds. Skapti speaks to the young man, "Is horny man sick? Maybe is plants he been sniffing." To the horny man, "Horny man. Be. Oh. Kay. Too. Much. Happy. Plant."

An old dwarf walks into the square leaning on a gnarled staff that looks as if it were made from a tree branch and holding onto the reins of a small horse. He stares at the halfling flailing away in the stocks yelling intelligibly. It wasn't too often that Jarili made his way to a larger town such as this. He needed some more supplies and there is sometimes a few stories about the goings-on around the kingdoms.

The proclamation just made interested him. He did enjoy map making. He had taken up the hobby years ago after finding himself lost in the countryside. Now, he found it easier to find his way around on his own. He needed more chalk for his kit some specially made stones for his sling. Otherwise he would not have made it to the square for the proclamation. Thank Gozreh for my luck. He thought in prayer to his patron deity.

An Exceedingly Helpful Man (with Linguistics)

The tall man looks back at the woman selling herbs. Clearly she'd be of use in this situation. "My good woman, that poor halfling seems to have gone delusional. The sun has baked his poor wee brain inside his head. They warned us about this in academy. One has to have at least 1 gallon of ale each day, since water is far too dangerous to drink, might get worms, to keep from having our brains turn into raisins. I'm afraid that fellow is so small, his raisin hasn't got juice left. Do you have some ale I could give him, keep him alive and all that?"

The tall man negotiates a fair settlement for a small glass of ale from a woman who is far too shrewd to let an opportunity for a sale, even from "that guy", to pass. The tall man walks over to the halfling and say, trying another language, Draconic: "Here little fellow, drink this and come to your senses." He offers the ale to the halfling, but leans way over trying to stay out of the range of his feet (he's seen what they can do).

"Ah, I see," the young man said, bringing his hand up to his mouth in a gesture of thoughtfulness, but really concealed a small smile. Careful not to laugh at the halfling's situation, even though he was sorely tempted, he said, "No, it doesn't sound like he was a bandit. It sounds like you may have attacked a guard. They don't like that. You should probably try not to do that once you get out of the stocks."

The tall horned man then let out a string of grating words that sounded like his throat was trying to throttle his tongue. The youth turned and looked at the man and said, "Are you all right? That sounded painful."

Do I know the usual penalty for assaulting a guard?

Orc orc

"Huh." The tall, rather green man takes a look around. He leans on his staff - not a magic staff, mind you, just completely ordinary walking stick - and casts his eye over all of those assembled in the area. He gives everybody an appraising look, tiny eyes glaring out from under a heavy brow. He'd been paid half up-front - that's how he was able to buy this shiny new longbow - but now that he could see the options, well... "Looks like I won't be bringing many back," he murmurs to himself with a sigh. "They're gonna want a bloody discount."
Sure he'd guide them to where they want to go. The hard part'll be surviving with so many city-folk. Hell, even the horned guy seems to be less dangerous than the average fallen-branch.
He stretches a little, eyes settling on women, children and elves. Liabilities, all of them.

"He started it." Skapti murmurs resentfully, distracted by the mug of ale coming his way.

Skapti sniffs distrustfully at the proffered glass, but no smallfolk has ever said that Skapti Kneereaver was one to say no to free booze. Shifting up in the stocks he grasps at the ale and gulps it down with relish. Near the end of the glass he comes up for air. *aahh* "Skapti thanks horny man. Horny man not so bad for tallfolk, even with happy weed." After a moment of consideration, he bestows a great honor, "I am Skapti."
He probably wasn't a guard, just Skapti's hard-to-understand pidgin getting in the way. Not like Skapti would really know.


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