Classic 3.0

[Someone]

"At least! It was worth the pain, after all." says Dunathar. "We could get a good price for these things. About the boy, I doubt it´s worth much, and you may want to return him to the villagers anyway."

[Dunathar tries to Appraise the things he found. After this, I think we should come back to the village with the boy.]

 

[deadestdai]

Brechin frowns disparingingly at the dwarf's comments regarding the child. Making sure the fires are up and running he then steps to the child's inert form and gently removes the small body from the sack.

Child? He whispers. Are you hurt or unwell?

(Will make sure the child is not hurt and mend any wounds I may find - heal check.)

 

[Mithreander]

THe child does not respond, having substained a head injury.

Taking the child from the sack, they note that she, first of all is a she, and then notes the very fine outfit she wears. She would have been blonde if not for the blood from her head injury. She appears to be about 10... maybe as old as 12, if a little underdeveloped. Her once royal outfit would have fit in with a noble attending a correnation, moonstones as buttones, silk, valenteen and mink all evident in the exquisite design of her robes. The clothing, even in the state that they are in now would easily bring 1000 gp from just the materials it was constructed from.

The paladin notes the the whale bone corset is cutting off her breath as she labors to breath, her perfectly formed lips taking on a slightly blue tinge.

The dwarf looks closer at the items he had found, but being distracted by the glorious dress, seems to think the other things mear trinkes, though he thinks he may be able to seel the bunch for a little more than 300 gp.

 

[ferretguy]

To the GM...Just a heads up Deadestdais' computer is down for a little bit....

 

[deadestdai]

Brechin eases the child's laboured breathing by untying the corset and reaches deep within himself to lend his healing touch against her wounded head. (Lay on hands)

This child is noble-born. I wonder how these orcs came upon one such as she?

 

[Someone]

OOC: Sorry, seems that I missed the thread. My fault.

"Sure she is. Someone must be wanting her back. Enough to be eager to reward those that bring him the girl, if we´re lucky."

Dunathar looks at the symptoms of suffocation. "You should cut that thing up. She´s having trouble breathing." Then looks around and quicly puts all thing of value on the sack: "Get the girl, and let´s get out of here. I don´t know if there´s more orcs running around, but this is a perfect place to find them. I had enough orcs for one day, we´ll ask the girl her name when she´s awake."

[If he has the opportunity, Dunthar will take the moonstone buttons from the girls clothes. When/if Brechin is not watching]

 

[Mithreander]

The two comanions continue n their way, back to the raod which they had first been ambushed. They then have to make a disision. Continue in the direction they were initially heading, or go back to the town they started from.

 

[deadestdai]

Brechin pondered on where to go next.

Sir dwarf, I feel it would be pointless to head back to the town. The girl would hardly come from such a lowly place. He checked to see if the young lass was comfortable. Perhaps we will find clues as to where she is from in the village we were originally heading for?

 

[Someone]

Dunathar scratches his head. "The girl is as unlikely to come from the village attacked as from the one we came from. My guess is that she was travelling, most likely to take part in some kind of ceremony, and the orcs attacked her caravan."

Dunathar thinks a while. "Maybe she´s famous, and one of the villagers know how´s she. And anyway, she will be a hindrance when fighting orcs."

 

[Mithreander]

The two unlikely companions change course and head back to the village that they had left initially. They find their way back and all of the villages, upon hearing of their arival, rush out to greet them. Questions are thrown towards them, such as "What's happening?", "Are they coming for us?", "How are the Jones'?", and "How many are there?" until the sharif of the town breaks the croud up with a few of his men and approach you.

"The mayor would like to see you." the gruff, black bearded man in chain tells you when he's close.

You are outside of the inn/tavern where you all had met. The Meeting Hall is just up the street.