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Spooked, and unable to see the assailants clearly, Bannock drops into a fighting stance and readies an attack on any enemy who enters his range.

Bannock chuckles at Lars and Alric's show of force, and pitches in 20 gp towards the price of the boats. At the end of the 15 mile march, he still feels fairly fresh, and volunteers for first watch. He looks at the morass beyond the path with trepidation, and hugs his weapons close, afraid of...

Bannock volunteers to go with Lars, and is happy to end up in a place where some refreshment can be found. He spends some silver buying Lars and he drinks and then splits with Lars to work the other part of the room. After some small talk with one fellow, he nudges him and says, loudly enough...

At some point early in the trip, well before the party enters the hamlet of Vidor, Bannock managed to catch Arnir alone during a rest stop to finally ask him about the black glaive. The dwarven smith's suggestion that it might have magical properties had been nagging at him since leaving East...

Bannock reels back and clutches his heart as if he's having a cardiac arrest. If he had any drink in his mouth, he'd have uncontrollably sprayed it all over Hrimr. "SEVENTY FIVE GOLD!!? Kord's cock! With that much I could live like a prince for a month, man! That's more than I have to my name...

Bannock bristles at the implication that he works for Ragesia and stands up at the table. "Ragesians! I resent that! My home is prob'ly burned to ash by now, and we risked everything to come here and seek help, only to face accusations! We never meant to end the fire, only to pass through it...

While at the forge, Bannock sells a longsword, his old glaive (since curse or no, the potential of magic only makes his new one even more appealing to him), and his two excess winter blankets. His entirely average negotiating abilities net him some 12.50gp, and he sheds 20lbs of weight.

Bannock is not with Arnir, or the others at the Inn. Some time after breakfast, he went out into town to find Brondwyn's relative, the smith, intending to get another's opinion about the nature of the devil's glaive, and to hopefully sell some of his excess weapons and supplies.

Bannock sits at the table downstairs, cupping a mug of cider with raw, wrinkled fingers. "Agh. Here's a tip from Bannock, don't go falling asleep in the bath, lest you wake up lookin' like your granny in the morning," he says. "That'll do Hrimr. I can't say I'd mind having that handy spell in...

Bannock goes back to their room upstairs, leans the black glaive with the rest of his weapons, and finally takes off his armour, which by now hardly smells good. He uses the hot water to fill the bathtub, then soaps up the water. He slides into his first bath since before entering Innenotdar...

Bannock fills his mug with some of Brondwyn's winnings, takes a long draught, and tells the tale of the party's journey through the forest. He tells of the fire-spirit in the stag, the creatures, always burning but never dying, the Seela, and the love triangle between Andariel, the nymph, and...

Bannock unconsciously gauges the subtleties in Bronwyn's face and body language during his response, being automatically wary of possible Ragesian agents, even in a small town like this.

Bannock flips the innkeeper a pair of gold coins for his share of the keg, plus a hefty tip, then sits down at Brondwyn's table and takes some cheese for himself, without asking. He starts telling Brondwyn why they're here, but he's not drunk enough yet to freely give away every detail...

Bannock steps up for his next throw. "Prepare for a comeback, boys!" He tosses the axe, and it falls just within the outer ring. "A leisurely, drawn out comeback!"

Bannock returns Arnir's stare but shrugs his shoulders and puts on an expression as if to say 'What was I supposed to do?' He's not surprised Arnir's angry. After all, he just needs some time to cool off and realize that he was about to deny himself the pleasurable company of his new lady, or...

Bannock is squinting at the bullseye about to make his next throw in the game of Axe-or-a-dram when he notices he can hear the whistle in his nose as he breathes, which strikes him as a bit odd. Then he hears Sargeant Smythe's words, so he turns around. He sees that half the bar is standing with...

While the unfriendly encounter between Arnir and the guardsman begins to unfold, Bannock is focused on his next axe throw, which goes poorly. Shaking his head, he takes another shot of dram.

Bannock shakes Brondwyn's hand and grins warmly as he accepts the axe, and hearing the dwarf speak, instinctually drops into one of rougher dialects of Gate Pass. "Oy Brondwyn. Me name's Bannock Voss, as spoke 'ere Alric. We none did come through the high passes. Paced through the blazin'...

"...but it was just a wee flesh wound, so then, I step right up to his face and grab him by his snakish beard and say 'You'll have to do better than that you ugly goat!' So he...", Bannock is saying to the pretty redhead in his lap as he is interrupted by Alric's poke. Never one to turn down a...

Bannock is exhausted, but in high spirits. He takes a room on the upper floor of the inn and sets his heavy pack, containing what are probably all his worldly possessions at this point, at the foot of the bed. His glaive and three javelins he sets leaning against the corner of the room. He wants...