When Bruenor grabbed him. "Erk. Hey." Drogo composed himself realizing Bruenor needs to speak giant way with them. Not really understanding the problem in the first place. He already made his offer about the ruins and riches. He pokes his head out to Bruenor and said. "Ruins and riches, tell them Bruenor." Then looks at the group and says. "Ya wanna get rich don't ya. That's why we're here aern't we? Oh yeah, my credentials. Although Bruenor and I already succeeded in a job already. After we complete the ruins we're sure to move up a notch or two." He waves his red badge at them.

"Listening in one of the paths to knowledge," answered Haazheel with a smile to the two new adventurers. "I see you are also interrested in the old ruins? This notice picked my interrest as well as the one from an elvish archer willing to travel."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 20:39, Wed 04 June 2014.

"You already went on a job? What did you do?"

"Ah yes," says Bruenor, turning to indicate one of the elves, " I saw the archer post that appeal just this morning." He then turn back to the group at large and continues, "From that, I know what the elf can contribute to our effort, but what about the rest of you, where do your skills lie?"

At the cleric's question, Bruenor answers, with an air of self import, "We were hired by a trading caravan in Meadowlark to protect them as they crossed Ice Lake to Albon, and from there escort them on-foot to Redhaven."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:37, Tue 10 June 2014.

"I am a priest of the Sun Father, Pelor."

"My name is Haazheel Thorn, wandering wizard, and here," Haazheel make a small gesture with his hand and immediately an owl lands on the wizard's shoulder, "is Mystique my friend and familiar." Then Haazheel points the bowl Valia left for the owl on the table. "Get some food my friend." The owl leaps to the bowl and starts eating, keeping an eye on the company around him.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:42, Wed 04 June 2014.

The barbaian finds that he is at the center of banter that does not interest him. He acknowledges the priest of Pelor and the archer in turn, but chooses not to retort. As the blonde informs him of his faults he stands and drops his tunic in place of his seat.

He marches up to the counter whereby the guildmaster, this Master Steelhead, is perched. He opens the small coin purse at his waist and grips an indeterminate amount of coinage.

“Master Dwarf,” he speaks low although resounding, “Indeed I am what civilized folk might name as barbaric. Thus, like all here, I seek only fair trade of skills and coin. Know that offense was not meant in my words.” The large man hesitates and then continues before a response may be offered.

“I sound demanding…  that is fair, but upon sight you seemed the only warrior worth acknowledging. Allow me start again. I am called Volsh. I hail from a lost land and thus claim nowhere as home. I am a mere traveler. I carry not this red badge that many flash with abandon, but my thirst for adventure is what keeps me driven to move forward and has kept me alive on the road since I was a youth. Allow me to join your guild and that beyond my needs are yours, and trust that my needs are few.”

The barbarian drops the coins from his palm on the counter in front of the guildmaster. They rattle as they settle into place. There are eight gold coins in all. “Mark this as forward payment through the winter.”  Volsh extends his hand in a gesture of respect.

"I believe several of us are only redbadges, but capable enough as far as that goes.  As for decorum, the... large person, now talking with the dwarf," and his head inclines toward the momentarily departed barbarian, "invited himself to our table - his manners are not ours, I assure you."


"I am that elf, Averdante, of the wood elves near Greenfire Lake. I traveled with kin via riverboat to Clam (and it's not as much as it sounds, I assure you), where we parted ways - and I accompanied a small trade train here.

"I only arrived late yesterday myself, and have had time to look over the various pleas and invitations, and to consider them...

"Unless one of us claims far more experience than average, I think several must be dismissed out of hand. I spoke with Master Steelhead as to several I was unfamiliar with - Chuuls are beyond us, and I know from my kin that a tiger would be as well. Anything "mysterious" or "ancient" or "into the wild" is indeed a wild card, it could be anything - and quite easily a quick death and no grave. If it does not have a name, I am not excited to be the one to try to put one on it.

"The most attractive, to myself, were indeed the goblins in Boltharrow, but equally so the "mysterious lights" at Fen on Fen - while unnamed, if all that are missing are cats, the lights most likely are not all that dangerous to a prepared party, even if one of redbadges.

"Besides - cats are worthy of rescue, or justice."

And he punctuates his statement by tossing another crumb of cheese to the grey cat lounging by the hearth, who once again pounces on it and just as quick deems it tasty enough to gobble down.

"Before you all arrived, I had set my mind to seek out this fire wizard... Nump?  Claims to be just the man for an adventure.  A good fire wizard can be give a group..." he picks up his goblet, and swirls the liquid, seeming to consider his words carefully, "...a very nice... edge."

He narrows his eyes, tilts his head back a bit, and nods with a faint smile in emphasis of his words, before sipping from the goblet.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:18, Thu 05 June 2014.

Master Steelhead holds his peace for a moment, then clasps Volsh's hand.  "Learning is the privilege of the young, that they might live to know better.  Aye, I accept.  If ye be wantin' into the Guild, I need a thing or three t' note down.  Yer name, specialty, splitin' heads and whatnot asunder, I take it? and if ye have anyplace regular you hang your furs.  If ye have any unseen talents, sing them out too, like trackin' or whatnot."

If Volsh gives those things, Master Steelhead will write them down, then beckon him out to a half-protected courtyard through a side door.  "Limber up a bit, lad, and let's see what you can do.  To the first fall, not to the blood."  Master Steelhead swings his axe easily, and waits patiently for Volsh to begin.

"So a priest, a mage, and an archer then, along with myself and Drogo, should be more than a match for any mission," Bruenor stated, and then continued, "though I hardly think  missing cats as important as a band of malicious goblins. They are the more pressing matter."

At hearing the guildmaster's offer to the barbarian, Bruenor turns, interested.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:38, Tue 10 June 2014.

The elf seems nonplussed at the assessment, and gives a slight tilt of his goblet and a nod of his head in ambivalent acceptance.

"Boltharrow is the closer of the two, by days. And, admittedly, a triple-barb tends to bite deeper into a goblin than a ball of light."

He sips again, sets the goblet down, puts a small bit of bread and cheese into his mouth, selects one of the arrows from one of the two loose piles on the table, and, picking up his whetstone anew, goes back to a patient and deliberate inspection and honing of the edges of the heads.

He looks up a moment as an afterthought.

"Do we leave then on the morrow, or wait on the storm?  And what of any others - there are several here who may wish to join the effort, besides those who have spoken up at this table.  Where there are some goblins, at times there are many. Do we all have the patience of an elf to scout the situation, and spend the time to return here seeking help if needed?"

"We can leave when we're ready, hopefully, the storm will be over by then. Rain plays hell on armor." Farian looks at the others, "We can invite the barbarian too, I'm sure he does okay in a fight, or, with his manners, he'd be dead by now."

"We may have a chance to see the value of that estimate, if said barbarian accepts the guildmaster's contest," Bruenor said, fully turning to watch the procession of events.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:38, Tue 10 June 2014.

"Good, we can see what he can do before we invite him along, it could be interesting."

After the others keep mentioning about a fight. He walks over to the door to get a better look at what's happening as he says. "whoa, a fight? And with the guildmaster as well. I can't miss this, guys." Impressed with the big guys guts and already getting into a spar with the guildmaster. He rooted him on. "Come on big guy, what are you waiting for? Give it a good go. I'm sure he won't kill you." He then turned to the others with a look of uncertainty and said a bit softer. "He wouldn't, would he?" Then back at the two sparring. "No, of course not. Give it all you got. Yeah!"

Farian goes to watch too, but remains silent, appraising what he sees.

"This will be indeed very informative" says the wizard turning toward the contest. "In case of a combat with some goblins or Boccob knows what other foes are waiting for us in these old ruins, a strong ally will be very handy".

Narthian had sat quietly through the exchanges.  He didn't quite know what to make of all of the newcomers. "Goblins are trash of the forest," he spat. " I would be glad to accompany all of you to put a end to their menace...Oh, I am Narthian and this," pointing towards the animal at his feet, "is Thunder and he has no more like of goblins then we do."

The Druid turned his attention to the Barbarian and the guildmaster.

"Indeed", remarks the elf, to one or both of the last comments.

He then continues, in Elven...

[Language unknown: "Sa wasortyin of u i n, llng he dayprewhi plse en ai iou pro iv conortson finess. N ndnc allo ntiencson hesti i est ec ch whenc ngeeck si les esters-latess ek terarecom, eiver besom mi plittr artallblethe out tic resersear hasereionnce m k plmetaad misialte",], nodding his head first at the notice board, then toward the entrance to the Guild Hall. [Language unknown:  "St ivesne k io korvenshe haof urtra, houanyast notainine al orehasset be ughio m llho. Tare i rea, ta chhori ure llasec ithresstr... propo..."], nodding this time in the direction of the upcoming match.

As he speaks, he finishes with the arrow in his hand, and puts both piles of arrows, separately, back in the quiver by the foot of his chair, making more room on the round plank table.

"Master Thorn - I would have need of a wizard's insight and opinion of another wizard. Would you join us across the room? Oh - and do you speak elvish - and would you, [Language unknown: nd iv ntpabe]", speaking to his fellow elf, ""care for some wine?"

Averdante indicates the stoneware pitcher on the table, fills his pewter goblet - and if necessary, will procure additional (and appropriate) vessels for the others - and then makes his way across the room...
This message was last edited by the player at 00:07, Sat 07 June 2014.

The Druid smiled at the attention he was getting. [Language unknown: Ss noofch t lathatnti tr ounati'arethe usil, comareard ecie strle, A ticundnte el indin alchnd fo ca t itleit outwiltho ame cailnc usmihi.]  He looked down momentarily at his wolf.  "I'm sure Thunder will fine as long as no one is silly enough to take away his bone."

Averdante smiles and nods, and signals a barmaid, holding is goblet up high in one hand and pointing at it with the other, then holding up 3 fingers.

[Language unknown: "Hatth ceen chsiin neaihi ul arall kor n yin ain o!"]

When the goblets come, he hands one to Narthian, and fills it, and likewise to anyone else who has accepted his invitation, offers a toast in Elvish [Language unknown: "P Waven At miugh Con His!"], and sips, then proceeds across the room.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 02:26, Sat 07 June 2014.

"Yeah, there will deffinately be loads of goblins. And most likely there will be other creatures there as well. And most important there will be treasure." Drogo rubs his hands together as he finishes. He then looks towards the elves talking and a language that sounds like gibberish. Then says. [Language unknown: "Ort iooul wasicavir hasri riivie, virpreore wit ne ncientleal strreawas strtiothu e icie en ntiic ur ica CKREIOTO. She li hasni wer cawa hat lo nodienut. Antiveatiwhe m ereprepre ie we avehasoer miaiil n pre"] He then laughs as he looks around to see if there are any halflings around to see if they enforce what he says.

Farian looks around with a scowl on his face at all of the little groups speaking in 'foreign' languages. Just under his breath, to any trying to hear him, he says, _{"I just think its rude when folks start talking in another language when they're in earshot. Makes one feel like he's being talked about behind his back as it were."}
This message was last edited by the player at 12:19, Sat 07 June 2014.

Narthian blushed at the comment from the Cleric. "I apologize, my good sir.  I meant no offense.  It is just a bad habit I guess.  Nothing was being said about you, I swear."

"Well, I was. I was saying how you all are talking too much about nothing when we should be preparing for our job. Well, for the most part anyways." He smiles and crosses his arms as he rolls his eyes.