Scions of the New World:Scene One-Gertle's Gulch...

Zadkiel nods, "Yes. We should head to town..." He purses his lips, "Could be that the Marshall there will know what happened to the owners of the rest of this here gear." He stoops, neatly folding his limbs and prods the stuff. "After that we can divvy up what's left." He eyes the scalemail and longsword with both envy and disgust. Could I feel right wearing that mail or bearing that blade?

He stands, dusting off his hands and knees, "Anybody feels they have a right to something here, take it. Seeing as how the rightful owners'd likely never have seen any of it again without us. Me, I'll wait for the Marshall's say so, but I won't stop any of you from taking your fair share. Emphasis on the fair." It sounds like it might be another of Whistler's attempts at a joke, but the elf still isn't smiling.

He checks on The Boys' mother and the others, giving his comrades further time to take their due from the haul. He glances at the sun over head, squinting into its harshness.

"We could make Gertle's Gulch by dark, easy." He picks up his pack and slings it over one shoulder, slinging another of the confiscated bags across the other, grunting. "I'm ready."

OOC: Whistler is pretty near encumbered with just his own gear, if he slows down the group, someone else should take the extra bag.
 

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Brahnz simply picks up all of her and Whistler's gear and starts walking to the town. Men. You guys would be hopeless with out me and I'm just a girl. She says with a wink of her Draconic eye.
 

"A girl with a horrible case of onion breath. But still beautiful of course," says Semm. He falls into stride with the others and makes casual conversation, his guilt seemingly either justified or forgotten.
 

Placing one of the gems into his pouch, Tzzecct lopes along with the group thinking more about these shards....so the power depends on who touches it first...hmm wounder if thats true for them all?
 

Velenne said:
"A girl with a horrible case of onion breath. But still beautiful of course," says Semm.
If Brahnz could blush she would. She may be a scion and half dragon but underneath she is a young elvish girl. Thank you Semm. is all she can say.
 

OoC:I'll assume that Semm is carrying the loot. Actually, since the moners want to go to town as well, in order to tell the Marshall there what happened, their donkey can carry quite a bit as well. Soemone let me know how the loot is being divided, if any shares,cash is being given to the rescued folk etc...


IC

The walk to Gertle's Gulch is an easy, if hot, trek through the scrub. Long before you can see the place, you smell it. Not the unpleasant stench of so many towns, but the miasma of spices and cooking, horses and cattle.
Several cattle ranchers are within a few day's travel, and they bring their animals to Gertle's Gulch to sell to the various travellers who frequent the place, both as food and as breeding stock, as the area is renowned for it's stock's quality.

Entering the South end of town, you draw a few looks from folk, both normals and several Scions that you see. As Tzzarcct has told you, this town has a fairly large population of Scions.

Notable Personages

A human with reddish skin, his hair looking like short spiky flames, his dress suggesting a duellist, as he bears matched rapier and poignard.
He inclines his head in a friendly, if guarded manner.

An Orc, scaly and massively built, easily the size of Semm (when not enraged, that is), leaning upon a huge mace, spitting tobacco into a spittoon alongside a slim halfling girl, her manner wild and feral. These stop their game long enough for the Orc to stare at Semm, his lips quivering in obvious, if contained belligerance. Puffing himself up as the Monster walks past, the Orc draws an alarmed reaction from several townsfolk nearby (who scamper away), as well as high pitched laughter from his Halfling companion, who mocks him with apelike gestures. The Orc snarls and swings a backhand at her, but misses, as she tumbles back and up...floating in the air brefly, before landing on a hitching post and chuckling again, winking at Semm as she does so.

Lastly, sitting on the porch of the nearby Sherriff's House is a Dwarf wearing the coat of a marshall, a badge clearly visable on his lapel. Wit his sits an elf, likewise wearing a badge, though this one is smaller (and less shiny).
These two stand as you near, looking directly at your group, a questioning glint in the dwarf's eye.

Tzzarcct knows the dwarf as Marshall Lograin, and the elf as his deputy as Vim, a likeable enough pair.
 



OOC: Certainly all of the folks we rescued would get their stuff back. I imagine, other than the stuff specifically mentioned as picked out, we'll divvy up what's left. What the Sheriff doesn't confiscate, anyway. Another retroactive request... Can we have brought the Scion with us? Properly bundled and concealed, of course.


Zadkiel scans the streets, right and left, gaze sweeping back and forth, an amber pendulum. He notes the duelist, and tugs the brim of his hat. He also notes the dangerous looking Orc and his floating halfling companion. When Tzzeect points out the Sheriff Lograin and Deputy Vim, he grates his Scion companions, the miners, the Boys and their mother, "We should go talk to the Sheriff." His wings flare and a few feathers come loose, carried off down the street in a gusting breeze. "After that, we figure out what to do next."
 

Sparky said:
OOC: Certainly all of the folks we rescued would get their stuff back. I imagine, other than the stuff specifically mentioned as picked out, we'll divvy up what's left. What the Sheriff doesn't confiscate, anyway. Another retroactive request... Can we have brought the Scion with us? Properly bundled and concealed, of course.


Zadkiel scans the streets, right and left, gaze sweeping back and forth, an amber pendulum. He notes the duelist, and tugs the brim of his hat. He also notes the dangerous looking Orc and his floating halfling companion. When Tzzeect points out the Sheriff Lograin and Deputy Vim, he grates his Scion companions, the miners, the Boys and their mother, "We should go talk to the Sheriff." His wings flare and a few feathers come loose, carried off down the street in a gusting breeze. "After that, we figure out what to do next."

Ehem. Whistler. I think I'll stay with the people while you talk to the Sherif. I'm not liking the looks from some of these lowlifes. Brahnz says and escorts the people to the local inn or where ever they want to go.
 

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