[Prologue] The Shrill Call
Stepping behind Brother Brodd and putting his hands on the young priest's shoulders, Creston continues, "I nominate this one.
The youngster seems quite tense at the elf's touch, quite possibly surprised out of his wits at the strange change in situation.
"Wha-"
"how's this upstart ever going to learn anything if us wizened ones keep coddling them? No, better that I step aside and this youngster take his lumps. I'll second that motion my pointy-eared friend. Brother Bobby it is!"
"But .."
"Bobby, lesson one: handle this." Regdoc said to the young cleric.
"I assure you ..."
Brodd scanned the faces. They seemed serious, but was this some kind of lark? How he, a total initiate, barely average in most respects, could possibly lead anything ...
"Well, I, er, I, thank you for confidence, sirs. I, ah, accept," Brodd manages, his stammering improving and the last word uttered seems quite firm.
With a smile at the hound, Brodd snags a likely sausage bit from a local table and appeases the mutt. "There now, nothing to worry about. We are all like-minded and friendly here."
"Right?"
Brodd has seen elves before, to be sure, but never really mingled with one of the magical folk up close. The fey had dark reputations (fell, even) on some lips, and he doesn't want to wake up naked in a faerie circle with no memory of the last ten years.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:32, Fri 07 Sept 2018.