Project Black Dagger - MISSION: SIREN'S CALL

[Viking Bastard]

Fergus digs deep into his jacket pocket and pulls out a gold watch.

"It's about three quarters past eight. A little over three hours until the party starts."

 

[Festy_Dog]

"That long enough for you?" Fealnne asks Mac.

 

[Argent Silvermage]

Unfortunatly no. I was hoping to be able to pray for a certain spell before we go to this 'party' but there is no time. Mac looks at the others, What will we need to get into the party? How do we gain invitations?

 

[Keia]

"Well if we're going the the party, we don't need invitations," Keldor said as he shrugged. "We're on an investigation. 'Course we do that we better be sure there's something going down."

Keldor looked around at the books on the desk and shelves -being nosy and getting antsy to get moving again.

 

[Argent Silvermage]

Agreed Keldor. That is why I'm suggesting Invitations. We could be there legitimatly and if nothing happens we have had a hopefuly wonderful time and if something does happen we are there to prevent lives lost. Mac strokes his beard thinking. Master Bonecrusher? By any chance do you have a copy of a scroll of silence we could purchase? Mac is dreading putting bees wax in his ears.

 

[Viking Bastard]

"Quite likely, look in those shelves over there."

 

[Argent Silvermage]

Even more impressed with the Half Orc than ever, Mac will search where he is told.

 

[Viking Bastard]

You find a Scroll of Silence in the shelves Fergus the Orc (not Half-Orc) pointed at.

"Would this be what you were looking for?"

 

[Argent Silvermage]

Surerly you are an Orc unlike any other. My thanks good sir. Mac takes the scroll and says to the team, What next comrads? Is there any preperation we all need to do?

 

[Festy_Dog]

Fealnne looks at his attire.

"I'll need something more appropriate for a formal function, I'm afraid I my current wear rather... lacking... for the occasion," he sighs, "I've had a vastly more limited selection of clothing since the manor burnt down."

Fealnne looks scrutinisingly at one of his sleeves then angrily tugs away at a loose thread. He sneers at the thread as he disposes of it, then returns his attention to the others as though nothing happened.