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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Arkhandus" data-source="post: 4117404" data-attributes="member: 13966">Warren the halfling, HP 19/39, AC 23Warren grumbles for a few moments after the last beast finally goes down.  He cleans off his blade and uses a bit of water from one of his flasks to clean out his wounds somewhat, then decides that it's probably best he quaff a healing potion just in case.So he takes out one of the potions taken from the fort/roadblock the party had assaulted and burned down earlier, and guzzles it down to stop the bleeding from his various new injuries.  The halfling grumbles some more after that about how hard it's going to be to repair all the mithral links broken on his shirt.Finally, when one of the elves addresses the group, Warren speaks up, in Elven no less.  "Hello, thanks for the help.  I'm Warren, and these are my traveling companions.  We're just passing through the marsh right now, to hunt down more of the hobgoblins that are running amok in the region.  They're up to something, and trying to drive out or enslave everyone around here.  Raiding the towns and homesteads.  That can't be good for you, I know, since elves like to settle in nice big woodlands for generations and all, right?  My folk are more nomadic, but I figured that since I'm in the area, I should help out against the goblinoids, y'know?" the halfling says, unusually talkative for a change.  Maybe it's all the blood loss making him light-headed.(ooc: roll whatever ya need for the healing potion, one of 'em we took from the fort we raided and burned.  I'm not sure what kind of potions they were, or how many we found.)</blockquote>

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