Bob Aberton
First Post
Malthas,
The elf stiffens when you reach for the flask, and when you offer it to him, he eyes it suspiciously, but seeing that you have displayed good faith so far, he takes a quick nip and hands it back.
"Your Lady, I know not. But luck is never unwelcome," he says, if not amiably at least not openly hostile any more. "I will say this: I not think you are friends of Standishtown now, for clamdiggers would never share with Brethren, much less drink with Brethren."
Vemuz,
The captive, moving with exaggerated slowness and trying desparately to look non-threatening, reaches into his belt and flings his hatchet and bow to the ground, about five feet away and conspicuously out of reach, should he try anything.
Nicodemus, Malthas, & All Others who Speak Elven,
When Malthas shares his flask with the elf chieftain, it sets off a veritable gale of animated whispering among his Brethren; some appear to be disgusted with their chieftain drinking with Outsiders, and even the most amiable of the elves (relatively speaking) are still cautious of this new developement. None of them seem to be advocating violence - yet.
They do not appear to be concerned that members of the expedition will understand them, as among them only their chieftain seems to speak Hullish. They must believe that Outsiders speaking Elven are as much of a rarity as elves speaking Hullish, or indeed any of the dialects of the Middle Land.
Jonah,
Although you cannot see anything, the sound of a snapping twig comes to you from about two hundred yards in front of you (assuming you are facing the forest and not the river) and to the left.
Captain McCrenshaw heard the noise as well, and begins to creep cautiously forward, holding his pistol at the ready.
"If anything, an' I mean anything, moves, Mr. Jonah, shoot it. I don't trust this forest any farther than I can throw it with me throwin' arm tied b'hind me back," he says softly.
(OOC: This is getting tiresome, isn't it
? Spot and Listen checks again, please...)
The elf stiffens when you reach for the flask, and when you offer it to him, he eyes it suspiciously, but seeing that you have displayed good faith so far, he takes a quick nip and hands it back.
"Your Lady, I know not. But luck is never unwelcome," he says, if not amiably at least not openly hostile any more. "I will say this: I not think you are friends of Standishtown now, for clamdiggers would never share with Brethren, much less drink with Brethren."
Vemuz,
The captive, moving with exaggerated slowness and trying desparately to look non-threatening, reaches into his belt and flings his hatchet and bow to the ground, about five feet away and conspicuously out of reach, should he try anything.
Nicodemus, Malthas, & All Others who Speak Elven,
When Malthas shares his flask with the elf chieftain, it sets off a veritable gale of animated whispering among his Brethren; some appear to be disgusted with their chieftain drinking with Outsiders, and even the most amiable of the elves (relatively speaking) are still cautious of this new developement. None of them seem to be advocating violence - yet.
They do not appear to be concerned that members of the expedition will understand them, as among them only their chieftain seems to speak Hullish. They must believe that Outsiders speaking Elven are as much of a rarity as elves speaking Hullish, or indeed any of the dialects of the Middle Land.
Jonah,
Although you cannot see anything, the sound of a snapping twig comes to you from about two hundred yards in front of you (assuming you are facing the forest and not the river) and to the left.
Captain McCrenshaw heard the noise as well, and begins to creep cautiously forward, holding his pistol at the ready.
"If anything, an' I mean anything, moves, Mr. Jonah, shoot it. I don't trust this forest any farther than I can throw it with me throwin' arm tied b'hind me back," he says softly.
(OOC: This is getting tiresome, isn't it
? Spot and Listen checks again, please...)
