Drivan nods to Sir Swillwort, "We'd love to join you in your study, perhaps we should deal with these rats before hand?"
"Again, I suggest burning them. They are quite dangerous."
[sblock=Origami Rats]As the previous Arcana checks have determined: The rats are unique specimens and have potential resale value in the hundreds or even a thousand gold pieces to the right buyer.[/sblock]
The sergeant shifts his feet.
"Well... if you're not needing us anymore. I... erm..."
Drivan peruses the papers in his hand, quickly sticking them into his spellbook.
The sergeant sighs, realizing he has been relegated to scenery.
"Okay, boys, let's go."
Drivan notices that the papers that flew out of Swillwort's head radiate intense magic. Perhaps a more *arcane* approach is necessary...
Emral crumples up the page, tossing it over his shoulder as utterly unimportant.
A large balls of slush falls from the sky and smacks Emral on the head.
When he looks up, he sees the clouds have formed a finger, wagging at him.
Emral marches over to the folded rats, giving them a once over and checking for any writing.
There is no writing on the sides of the unconscious rats. However, you notice their sides are moving in imitation of breathing. One of the rats--you can't tell which one in particular--seems to be stirring.
I believe, good Swillwort, that we did this mighty deed to earn ourselves a reward. We're going to be fighting the Legion of Bone, and our good halfling...
"That's me!" says Marco, pushing himself to his feet.
"You'd think someone in this bunch would have the decency to check my condition," he mutters to no one in particular.
...has been helping us find tools so we don't, well, *die* right away. Not to put too fine a point on it, but your experiment did something to me on the way out, and something... doesn't feel right with my spells. I'm not saying it's not fun, but we could use all the help we can get here. Is there anything that can keep the heat off us and onto the Legion?
Swillwort chuckles. It is a weak chuckle, but his condition is far superior to that when you arrived.
"Ah, yes. I remember my own days as an adventurer. The unrepentant greed hidden beneath a thin veneer of public service and moral rectitude. Asking hapless bystanders myriad questions without giving them a pause to answer."
"They do that to me all the time."
"Harassing passersby for information or quests with potential for renumeration. Threatening innocents on the mere suspicion on untoward or unusual behavior. No good deed goes unrewarded--and we beat the tar out of a few villagers to make certain it occurred. Those were the days..."
"You really have no idea who I am?" he laughs,
"I'm certain I can provide your party with a decent reward."
[sblock=Read only if your Passive Perception is 12 or more...]That senile archer left behind his bow and arrows.[/sblock]
