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Watch For Falling Meteors [4E KotS] Updated Weekdays!
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<blockquote data-quote="Xorn" data-source="post: 4325049" data-attributes="member: 61231"><p>Percy tried to hide his nervousness as he followed the others through the gates of Fallcrest. His eyes darted among the assembled townsfolk that had gathered to see the Heroes of Kobold Hall off to Winterhaven. With so many people looking at them and cheering them on, it was difficult to tell if any were paying extra attention to him. The halfling couldn’t help thinking of the letter in his vest.</p><p></p><p><em>My dearest Percival Padfoot,</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>I trust this letter is indication enough that your recent appearance in Fallcrest has not gone un-noticed by my sources. You might wonder why I have instructed them to leave this letter in your room, rather than a pool of your blood, and since you are not intelligent enough to answer that question without help, I will simplify the matter for you.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>I’m coming Percy, and when I find you, I’m going to slit your throat and watch you bleed out.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Warmest regards,</em></p><p><em>Loraax Leapfeet</em></p><p></p><p>“You’re uncharacteristically quiet, Percy.”</p><p>The tiefling’s voice would have stopped the rogue’s heart if he’d been any more surprised. His face paled and he nearly fell as he stumbled over an uneven rut of crumbled brick in the cobblestone gate path. “N-no,” he stammered, trying to find his voice even though his throat felt thick with anxiety, “I’m fine. J-just… too much to drink last night.”</p><p></p><p>“’At’s jus’ like a halflin’ fer ya,” bemused Omar, leading them out of the gates and onto the muddy transition from cobble to earth, on the small western road leading out of Fallcrest, “ya ne’er drink more’n ye kin handle, les’ yer drinkin’ away a lost love.”</p><p></p><p>Percy caught Omar’s eyes for a moment, and stuffed down a renewed sense of alarm without a facial expression. “Whatever you say, Irongut,” he grumbled.</p><p></p><p>“Mebe ye’re hungover after all,” the dwarf suggested, “cuz ye’re bein’ as cranky as ye were the morn’ afore last, after that night o’ storytellin’.”</p><p></p><p>“Percy the Dragonslayer.”</p><p></p><p>Both the warlord and fighter laughed out loud at Oleaf’s quiet statement of Percy’s self-given title, and raised their weapons as they yelled out a “Hoorah!” in the halfling’s honor. The levity was lost on Percy, who had finally relaxed the white-knuckled grip on his dagger, beneath the concealing drape of his cloak.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Xorn, post: 4325049, member: 61231"] Percy tried to hide his nervousness as he followed the others through the gates of Fallcrest. His eyes darted among the assembled townsfolk that had gathered to see the Heroes of Kobold Hall off to Winterhaven. With so many people looking at them and cheering them on, it was difficult to tell if any were paying extra attention to him. The halfling couldn’t help thinking of the letter in his vest. [I]My dearest Percival Padfoot, I trust this letter is indication enough that your recent appearance in Fallcrest has not gone un-noticed by my sources. You might wonder why I have instructed them to leave this letter in your room, rather than a pool of your blood, and since you are not intelligent enough to answer that question without help, I will simplify the matter for you. I’m coming Percy, and when I find you, I’m going to slit your throat and watch you bleed out. Warmest regards, Loraax Leapfeet[/I] “You’re uncharacteristically quiet, Percy.” The tiefling’s voice would have stopped the rogue’s heart if he’d been any more surprised. His face paled and he nearly fell as he stumbled over an uneven rut of crumbled brick in the cobblestone gate path. “N-no,” he stammered, trying to find his voice even though his throat felt thick with anxiety, “I’m fine. J-just… too much to drink last night.” “’At’s jus’ like a halflin’ fer ya,” bemused Omar, leading them out of the gates and onto the muddy transition from cobble to earth, on the small western road leading out of Fallcrest, “ya ne’er drink more’n ye kin handle, les’ yer drinkin’ away a lost love.” Percy caught Omar’s eyes for a moment, and stuffed down a renewed sense of alarm without a facial expression. “Whatever you say, Irongut,” he grumbled. “Mebe ye’re hungover after all,” the dwarf suggested, “cuz ye’re bein’ as cranky as ye were the morn’ afore last, after that night o’ storytellin’.” “Percy the Dragonslayer.” Both the warlord and fighter laughed out loud at Oleaf’s quiet statement of Percy’s self-given title, and raised their weapons as they yelled out a “Hoorah!” in the halfling’s honor. The levity was lost on Percy, who had finally relaxed the white-knuckled grip on his dagger, beneath the concealing drape of his cloak. [/QUOTE]
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