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The White Cloaks: Tales of Borr
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<blockquote data-quote="arwink" data-source="post: 4743518" data-attributes="member: 2292"><p>Lik returns to the group around the campfire, moving as casually as he can. Fortunately the tradition-bound kobold is always a bit stiff and formal in his movements, so his attempts at subtlety aren't too bad; he delivers the news in a low voice, prompting a brief discussion about what might be out there. Father Osterbolger suggests verifying the sighting and Eirik sidles up to the entrance, settling in next to Hallas with a casual discussion about the rain. The subtext is clear: "Where are they?"</p><p></p><p>Hallas flicks his eyes in the direction and Eirik peers into the downpour - he's got pretty good vision, but he fails to see anything but rain and shadows. "You're sure?" he whispers, keeping his voice.</p><p></p><p>"No," says Hallas. "But I got some pretty strong suspicions. There's this itch I get, when I'm being watched."</p><p></p><p>Eirik nods and disappears into the cave. Rather than raise suspicions by sending further people to join Hallas and scour the perimeter, they come up with an alternative plan - Vlad will cause a distraction just outside the cave while Ling slinks off into the darkness and tries to circle around and catch a good look at who’s out there.</p><p></p><p>As plans go, it works spectacularly well. Vlad is a distracting kind of guy at the best of times, but when he joins Hallas he starts singing an off-key rendition of <em>The Mad Dwarf Wizard of Ol' Copper Town</em> and punctuating every line with a pyrotechnic burst of arcane fire it's hard to watch anything else. In a matter of moments Ling is crawling through the mad on his hands and knees, slinking from bush to bush as he keeps out of the light and away from prying eyes. The good news is that he disappears from the watchful eyes of his comrades before he's a few feet out of the cave, which hopefully bodes well for his ability to do the same with their foes.</p><p></p><p>Yet for all his abilities at stealth and skullduggery, Ling isn't the most observant guy. He's almost dangerously close to the watchers before he sees them in the rain, only a little further than twenty feet. He falls flat on his stomach immediately, wincing as the mud beneath him splashes out from the impact and hoping the bush prevents the three shadowy figures from pinpointing him. He lies stock-still, fingertips itching to reach for a dagger, and watches as the hunched figures start arguing. He can't make out their hissed words through the rain, but the obvious shoving match that ensues leaves little doubt as to what's happening.</p><p></p><p>Or, for that matter, any doubt as to whether they're wild men from the hills. While the darkness precludes any chance to get details description, it's obvious from the silhouettes that there's something very inhuman about the trio watching the cave - they're almost cadaverously thin, moving with a hunched gait that's fluid despite their posture. When they skulk back into the darkness it takes a matter of seconds before Ling looses sight of them, and it takes every ounce of willpower he has to hold steady rather than flee towards the cave at top speed. He holds still for a twenty-count before he risks a crawl again, edging back towards the cave as slowly as he left it, and reports what he's seen.</p><p></p><p>The news leaves everyone a little on edge, especially Osterbolger. "We're crossing a river tomorrow," the Father says. "The ford will be bad enough after all this rain, but it'll be worse if we're being followed and they decide to attack." He looks out over the gathered groups of recruits, tapping the wooden peg that replaces his right leg against the stonework as he thinks. "It's your skins we're risking; thoughts?"</p><p></p><p>"Give them another option," Eirik says. "If we head out looking sloppy tomorrow, as though we're sitting ducks, we might be able to lure them into an ambush before the river."</p><p></p><p>"It's a thought," Father Osterbolger says. He looks at the others, but they come up with nothing. "Right then, sloppy and slovenly it is. Svenson, Kalamgrove, you're setting up the wagon's tomorrow. I'll assume you're both capable of your usual good work. Sleep light tonight, and keep the usual watch schedule."</p><p></p><p>The veteran limps off towards the back of the cave and crawls into his blanket, putting his longsword in easy reach nearby. Vlad looks to the other recruits. "My usual good work? That was sarcasm, right? I should be trying to make it look bad"</p><p></p><p>"I don't think so," Eirik says. "We want to look sloppy, but you get to push it if the horses come free of the harness. Set it up the same way you ordinarily would and everything'll be fine."</p><p></p><p>It takes Vlad a few seconds to pick up on that. Everyone else is in the midst of getting ready to catch some shut-up when it suddenly clicks into place with a loud "Hey!"</p><p></p><p>It's a long, nervous night's sleep. They take watch in pairs, stamping against the cold that settles in as the night wears on. Fortunately the shadowy figures don't return; even more fortunately, Lik finds a way to make it through his turn at watch with Stig: he fakes a limited command of common, relying on the Southerner's inability to read kobold facial expression. After a few baffling answers in Draconic, Stig shuts up and watches the darkness in sullen silence. </p><p></p><p>Lik, on the other hand, is extraordinarily pleased with himself and resolves to speak even less than usual.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="arwink, post: 4743518, member: 2292"] Lik returns to the group around the campfire, moving as casually as he can. Fortunately the tradition-bound kobold is always a bit stiff and formal in his movements, so his attempts at subtlety aren't too bad; he delivers the news in a low voice, prompting a brief discussion about what might be out there. Father Osterbolger suggests verifying the sighting and Eirik sidles up to the entrance, settling in next to Hallas with a casual discussion about the rain. The subtext is clear: "Where are they?" Hallas flicks his eyes in the direction and Eirik peers into the downpour - he's got pretty good vision, but he fails to see anything but rain and shadows. "You're sure?" he whispers, keeping his voice. "No," says Hallas. "But I got some pretty strong suspicions. There's this itch I get, when I'm being watched." Eirik nods and disappears into the cave. Rather than raise suspicions by sending further people to join Hallas and scour the perimeter, they come up with an alternative plan - Vlad will cause a distraction just outside the cave while Ling slinks off into the darkness and tries to circle around and catch a good look at who’s out there. As plans go, it works spectacularly well. Vlad is a distracting kind of guy at the best of times, but when he joins Hallas he starts singing an off-key rendition of [I]The Mad Dwarf Wizard of Ol' Copper Town[/I] and punctuating every line with a pyrotechnic burst of arcane fire it's hard to watch anything else. In a matter of moments Ling is crawling through the mad on his hands and knees, slinking from bush to bush as he keeps out of the light and away from prying eyes. The good news is that he disappears from the watchful eyes of his comrades before he's a few feet out of the cave, which hopefully bodes well for his ability to do the same with their foes. Yet for all his abilities at stealth and skullduggery, Ling isn't the most observant guy. He's almost dangerously close to the watchers before he sees them in the rain, only a little further than twenty feet. He falls flat on his stomach immediately, wincing as the mud beneath him splashes out from the impact and hoping the bush prevents the three shadowy figures from pinpointing him. He lies stock-still, fingertips itching to reach for a dagger, and watches as the hunched figures start arguing. He can't make out their hissed words through the rain, but the obvious shoving match that ensues leaves little doubt as to what's happening. Or, for that matter, any doubt as to whether they're wild men from the hills. While the darkness precludes any chance to get details description, it's obvious from the silhouettes that there's something very inhuman about the trio watching the cave - they're almost cadaverously thin, moving with a hunched gait that's fluid despite their posture. When they skulk back into the darkness it takes a matter of seconds before Ling looses sight of them, and it takes every ounce of willpower he has to hold steady rather than flee towards the cave at top speed. He holds still for a twenty-count before he risks a crawl again, edging back towards the cave as slowly as he left it, and reports what he's seen. The news leaves everyone a little on edge, especially Osterbolger. "We're crossing a river tomorrow," the Father says. "The ford will be bad enough after all this rain, but it'll be worse if we're being followed and they decide to attack." He looks out over the gathered groups of recruits, tapping the wooden peg that replaces his right leg against the stonework as he thinks. "It's your skins we're risking; thoughts?" "Give them another option," Eirik says. "If we head out looking sloppy tomorrow, as though we're sitting ducks, we might be able to lure them into an ambush before the river." "It's a thought," Father Osterbolger says. He looks at the others, but they come up with nothing. "Right then, sloppy and slovenly it is. Svenson, Kalamgrove, you're setting up the wagon's tomorrow. I'll assume you're both capable of your usual good work. Sleep light tonight, and keep the usual watch schedule." The veteran limps off towards the back of the cave and crawls into his blanket, putting his longsword in easy reach nearby. Vlad looks to the other recruits. "My usual good work? That was sarcasm, right? I should be trying to make it look bad" "I don't think so," Eirik says. "We want to look sloppy, but you get to push it if the horses come free of the harness. Set it up the same way you ordinarily would and everything'll be fine." It takes Vlad a few seconds to pick up on that. Everyone else is in the midst of getting ready to catch some shut-up when it suddenly clicks into place with a loud "Hey!" It's a long, nervous night's sleep. They take watch in pairs, stamping against the cold that settles in as the night wears on. Fortunately the shadowy figures don't return; even more fortunately, Lik finds a way to make it through his turn at watch with Stig: he fakes a limited command of common, relying on the Southerner's inability to read kobold facial expression. After a few baffling answers in Draconic, Stig shuts up and watches the darkness in sullen silence. Lik, on the other hand, is extraordinarily pleased with himself and resolves to speak even less than usual. [/QUOTE]
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