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Feint Whispers Chapter #5: The Excavation

jasamcarl said:
Whitney: A couple of the younger men in the camp, obviously attracted to you and your courtly manner, try to strike up a conversation by disclosing rumors and tails of the mad Hurazrod. Apparantly, he served as a mercenary with the King's army in the east, fighting the barbarian heretics there. In those dark lands, he came under the corrupt influences of a tribe of demon worshipers. He performed so well in battle and had the loyalty of so many warriors, however, that he was given the command of the local royal garrison in these parts, despite his debaucherous ways. It was at this point that he began to sieze serfs off of the King's lands and experimented in sacraficial rituals to call upon demons. He made alliances with the Crooked Tusk orcs, and was said to be building an army in support of the coming Usurper King, who is known to be of Southern stock. Hurazrod was stopped by the intervention of the Paladins of Lothar, who attacked his keep and murdered all those who rebelled against the rightful King. These included multiple peasents who served the fiendish warlord as well as sever local Southern Lords, causing widespread local discontent.

Whitney keeps 'court' with the young men, taking note of the information that they give him, but maintains a decourous state with them. After a while she politely excuses herself to prepare for bed and turns in for the night.
 

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"It seems as though we scared the beasts off last night, eh D'orite?" Tarowyn says to Jericho as he finishes packing his gear. Looking up, the elf sees several men flirting with Whitney and turns back to the black-armored fighter once more. "Seems as if you might have been warding off the wrong kind of beastie, though. If you don't act quickly, someone else is bound to put a ring on the magical ring finger of the Fist."
 

Jericho nods to Tarowyn, "Aye elfy, time for me to show them why I am the Middle Finger of the Fist!"

Jericho struts towards the gathered men, "Hmm... that is a wonderful tale there," he says hearing the tale end, he hands some sweet meat to Mist, and pets the little cat behind the ears, "But this pretty lady is spoken for, gentlemen, unless any of you wish to challenge me," Jericho growls, his spiky black armor, looking most intimidating.
 

"Last time I checked." Whitney says calmly as she gets up and bids the men good eve. "I have no dowry and not one word has been spoken to my lord fatehr for my hand.. so," looks at him calmly. "I.. am.. my own woman.. and my choices are my own." with that she collects her cat and walks back to her tent, the air seeming quite chilly.
 


Norri looks on in amusement as the event unfolds, chuckling quietly as Whitney makes her exit.

He drops down beside Tarowyn from his little look-out position.

"That was interesting," he says, "You know what? After having fought a vampire orcs don't seem so scary. I mean, at least they become somewhat concerned if you shoot them with a crossbow."
 
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Festy_Dog said:
Norri looks on in amusement as the event unfolds, chuckling quietly as Whitney makes her exit.

He drops down beside Tarowyn from his little look-out position.

"That was interesting," he says, "You know what? After having fought a vampire orcs don't seem so scary. I mean, at least they become somewhat concerned if you shoot them with a crossbow."

The elf chuckles at Norri's musings, "Honestly, I was more scared of that lovable thug in black metal over there turning against us than any run-of-the-mill bloodsucker. His blade has drawn more blood than poor Brother Durham's shade ever did, that's for sure. We may be the Fist, but he is THE FINGER and it's always better to give THE FINGER than to receive it. Words to live by, Pinky," Tarowyn winks at the halfling and smiles.
 

"Pah so I be the thumb? At least it is the most important part of the hand. And third fingers normally do not turn against the rest of the hand," says Bhartus, eyeing Jericho.

"Well shall we be going? We have a blacksmith to find," continues the dwarf.
 

Jericho gets astride, Saladin, and canters towards the group, "Aye Bhartus, lets find this blacksmith, and skin us some evil if need be. Not that I condone violence," he jests.

Jericho will wait for the group to form up, and then set out for the task at hand.
 

The earlier night: the boys scatter in the face of the imposing D'orite. "Pardon, sirs, pardon..."

In the morning, the party sets out towards the north. They trudge through sparse woodlands, only a thin, poorly marked trail providing guidance to the keep. Beyond some chirping by birds, only the footsteps and patting of Salidin's hooves can be heard. The minor light of the early morning sun shoots through the canopy unevenly, dotting the woodland floor.

Tarowyn: After an hour of walking, you spot a series to tracks running horizontaly across the trail, perpendicular to the path you are taking.
 
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