Dashki and Mahjub have all but entirely wandered the perimeter and found little evidence so far. As they do so, Dashki looks over to the party talking to everyone in camp. He grimaces.
"Looking for someone to blame. How do we even know the fire was set? That idiot burned a hundred candles in his wagon."
"Yes, that would certainly be unworthy of all this fuss, wouldn't it?" Mahjub agrees, following Dashki's gaze back toward camp. "Am I crazy, or is that old fellow giving us the stink eye?"
Dashki growls, and Mahjub can't help but notice its more animal than man. "They blame me. I had nothing to do with that fire. The fool probably just got unlucky. We're in gnoll country. I wouldn't be surprised if it was pugwampis."
"Pugwampis? I'm afraid i've never heard of those," Mahjub confesses. "Who or what are they?"
"Critters that crawled up from the darklands below the earth. 'Jackal Rats' we call 'em. They worship gnolls as gods and infest their communities like rats. Wherever pugwampis go, bad luck follows. The gnolls hate them because of it. They try to kill them all the time, but the they always come back. Probably their bad luck caused the fortune-man's candles to start the fire."
"We're that close to gnollish settlements that we would be affected?"
"We're close enough that one or two may have wandered over here to start mischief."
"So the bad luck associated with pugwampis has more to do with their mischievous ways than something more magical or karmic?" Mahjub asks. "I would be comforted to know that there's a tangible solution to whatever problems they cause."
"Killing them does the trick either way," Dashki says.
"You've yet to share your suspicions with our employer, yes?" Mahjub asks, motioning toward camp. "Should we tell her, or let them all investigate each other until the sun rises?"
Dashki suddenly looks terrified. "No. I haven't told her."
He looks about to say more as Garavel walks out of the tent, obviously looking for the party. He motions toward those that he can see to enter the tent.
"My friend, you look as though you've gone white as a sheet," Mahjub observes, looking over his shoulder as the others begin to walk toward the tent. "Is there something wrong, Dashki?"
Dashki swallows.
"I am... I may be... a bit too fond of her."
A small smile crosses Mahjub's face. "That's all? Dashki, you had me worried! And who could blame you, she's a striking woman to be sure."
Dashki's face goes deep red and looks away.
"It isn't acceptable. You should go. They're calling your friends in."
"Looking for someone to blame. How do we even know the fire was set? That idiot burned a hundred candles in his wagon."
"Yes, that would certainly be unworthy of all this fuss, wouldn't it?" Mahjub agrees, following Dashki's gaze back toward camp. "Am I crazy, or is that old fellow giving us the stink eye?"
Dashki growls, and Mahjub can't help but notice its more animal than man. "They blame me. I had nothing to do with that fire. The fool probably just got unlucky. We're in gnoll country. I wouldn't be surprised if it was pugwampis."
"Pugwampis? I'm afraid i've never heard of those," Mahjub confesses. "Who or what are they?"
"Critters that crawled up from the darklands below the earth. 'Jackal Rats' we call 'em. They worship gnolls as gods and infest their communities like rats. Wherever pugwampis go, bad luck follows. The gnolls hate them because of it. They try to kill them all the time, but the they always come back. Probably their bad luck caused the fortune-man's candles to start the fire."
"We're that close to gnollish settlements that we would be affected?"
"We're close enough that one or two may have wandered over here to start mischief."
"So the bad luck associated with pugwampis has more to do with their mischievous ways than something more magical or karmic?" Mahjub asks. "I would be comforted to know that there's a tangible solution to whatever problems they cause."
"Killing them does the trick either way," Dashki says.
"You've yet to share your suspicions with our employer, yes?" Mahjub asks, motioning toward camp. "Should we tell her, or let them all investigate each other until the sun rises?"
Dashki suddenly looks terrified. "No. I haven't told her."
He looks about to say more as Garavel walks out of the tent, obviously looking for the party. He motions toward those that he can see to enter the tent.
"My friend, you look as though you've gone white as a sheet," Mahjub observes, looking over his shoulder as the others begin to walk toward the tent. "Is there something wrong, Dashki?"
Dashki swallows.
"I am... I may be... a bit too fond of her."
A small smile crosses Mahjub's face. "That's all? Dashki, you had me worried! And who could blame you, she's a striking woman to be sure."
Dashki's face goes deep red and looks away.
"It isn't acceptable. You should go. They're calling your friends in."