[M]Castle Greyhawk: Against The Little Guys IC

[Nazgul]

The boy with the red hair slowly stopped crying, bringing his dirty tattered sleeve to wipe away the tears; which in the end did little more than smear more dirt on his face.

"Thank you ma'am," he smiled meekly at Eccawen. "Dad went into the dungeons to search for a treasure. He had heard the there was a good lot of gold down there and he was just trying to earn a few coppers for the evening stew," the boy sobbed again. "His dream has always been for to taste a bit o' potato before I'm a full grown man. Bless his soul." Starting to stand, he winced in pain as the coin thrown by Dryden hit him in the forehead. Rubbing his forehead, he bent down and picked up the coin, placing it in his pocket.

"Thank you sir," the boy smiled. "And I don't know anything about them mists I don't sir. The adults said to stay away from them and that's just what I've done."

Moving to Eccawen, the boy placed his hand in hers .

"Thank you again ma'am," the boy spoke, his tone becoming a little more cheerful, yet still with the underlying sorrow at the disappearance of his father. " I don't know if dad's still alive, t I'm so happy you will help to find out. Bless your soul ma'am." And with that, the boy started pulling Eccawen along.

[Miss Fortune]

Eccawen had enough mind to knock some sense into the brutes that terrorized. First the damned Gnome, then that man, Eccawen thought, listening to the boy's words. "A bit of potato?" Eccawen murmured. She had no idea how hard it was in the local region to find or afford a potato for dinner and she already had plans to take care of the father's dream when/if she found him.

She followed after the boy, elbowing through the crowd that had gathered, casting glares towards the brutes who tried rough handling him. They need to learn, when dealing with a crying child, being rough is the worst way to accomplish anything, she thought, being dragged off down the streets by the boy. She never really ventured into a dungeon before, so this would be an interesting adventure indeed. Could she find any clues to the mists and the disappearance of the townspeople in the dungeon? She sure hoped so.

If the boy's father wasn't alive... she'd share some of the 1,000 gold coins she planned on earning, even if it killed her. It's best to have a plan, and save up than foolishly waste hard earned money, she reckoned.

[Auki]

Irin rubbed a slightly ruddy nose; the motion was rough, almost impatient. It did nothing to remove the dirt layering her face. She assumed it had ingrained into her pores by now; ignored for so long, it had no intention of leaving if not chased off by the shower of a water bucket. Cleanliness was not considered her priority of life. She had clotted blood splattered over her torso, streaking webs of grim with the mud that accompanied it. Bathing in order to keep her health in check was a necessity. Anything else, an inconvenience.

Apparently, the folk around had different ideas of what was important. She asked questions about the mist, demanded herself answers, but each time was met with the same upturned nose and disgusted expression. Curse them.

She traipsed around the markets in silent disgruntlement, putting aside all glares and sneers that came her way. If the gold pieces were to be hers, if this settlement was to be returned to normal, they would have to confide their knowledge in the adventurers. It seemed to task of gathering information would not fall on her but those that Herzog had suggested she work with were long gone from sight.

Thoughts of buying supplies on top those she had crossed her mind but those selling did not wish for her presence either. Perhaps it was the smell of her, driving away their other customers, but enough snark remarks gave her hint to take her leave. One shop was closed, thankfully, and as such the crowds were thinned around it. She headed there, appreciating the space, and looked around, wondering what her next action should be.

[Korvis]

Silently slipping from shadow to shadow, Kass followed the boy. She would make sure that he got his father back. Even if they didnt have a copper to their name, money is a cruel joke when you dont have anybody to love you. Not to say she wouldnt be depositing bit of coinage into his cup after she saved his father... but that would come later.

Worse come to worse.... if his father was already dead... which very well could be... Well, she would cross that road when she came to it..

[Enigma]

Sabine found herself with the others drifting into the marketplace. There was a small knot of people near the wall. There was a child crying, boisterous yelling and something being tossed around about cobblers. With a frown, the young cleric in her light green robes pushed her way through the crowd.

"Someone asked for a cobbler?" Sabine asked. Knowing how to make and repair boots was a very important skill for a travelling sect. She raised an eyebrow at the sight of red-headed boy trying to lead a young elf maiden away. The boy's cheeks and eyes were red, as was the bump forming on his forehead. There was also a gnome staring angrily at everyone and a human warrior. Behind her she could hear others moving through the crowd.

"So," the half-elf asked with a faint smile, assuming a casual stance with her quarterstaff as she addressed the group, "what's going on over here?"

[Lord Tully]

~PIXIE DICK!?!~ Gilder thought as his face harden with fury, his hand almost went to the mace at his belt but the ranger decided that exposing the contents of the Gnome's skull to sunlight would only traumatise the young boy. Intentionally trying to keep his temper fom boiling any more, he deliberatly turned from the Gnome to a woman who was asking what happened, "Well, Stumpy there was being a prick to the boy," he said in a low voice while gestureing to Mendal, "I was going to kick his ass a little, but that doesn't seem like a good idea now that this crowd has gathered."
He looked back at the gathering of people to see the boy leading the elf woman away to the dungeon where his father went. Having little better to do until the meeting with the Druids, Gilder decided to follow them, ignoring the human warrior entirely.

[Miss Fortune]

She had the weird feeling she was being followed, but with the large group of warriors she seen earlier, it wouldn't be a surprise if they were to follow, trying to catch a whiff of anything that would lead them to the gold. Bunch of greedy people, Eccawen thought, walking along behind the boy.

"Might I ask, what's your name, kid? My name is Eccawen Meridan," Eccawen said, trying to make small talk with the poor orphan. She could still hear the gold pieces rattling in the pin cup.

She hoped they reached the dungeon soon. Every minute it took to reach the dungeon was another minute the boy's father could be dying of starvation. And all for a little extra money to fulfill a dream of eating potatoes. The human world is in worse shape than I heard, Eccawen thought, squeezing the boy's hand.

[Nazgul]

"Cullum," he smiled up at Eccawen, continuing to lead her through the crowds of people.. "Cullum McCreedy ma'am. Beggin your pardon, but do you think poor ol' dad could still be alive?"

[Meinolf]

Though he is not one to normally associate himself with gits and sycophants, there was one word that nagged incessantly inside of Mendel's vast erudition mind. Gold! Here was a win-win situation. There was gold to be had, and morons to die. This party of adventurers is clearly what Moranis, the great gnomish genius, had in mind when he described his theory of evolution -- which stated, succinctly, that evil is always superior, because good is dumb.

Making a quick calculation of the probability of any of the halfwits he's seen so far living through the deep, dank depths of the dungeon, Mendel figured that he would get nearly 90% of all that delicious gold that was just waiting below in the cold earth. Truly this was the promised reward from the Father that Mendel had dreamed so vividly of. With this in mind, Mendel -- with that sly look on his face -- followed the sashaying hips of the fair elven lass and her red-headed waif.

[Anne Bonny]

Morwyn had been sidetracked.

She had arrived in time for Lord Herzog Akitrom's speech, certainly. But in doing as the lord directed, she headed to the marketplace for information. Unfortunately, brightly colored canvases of a painter selling his artwork had caught her golden eye, and the little elf became distracted.

It wasn't until several minutes had passed that (after nosing through several delightful paintings of flowers) the little elf girl remembered the lord's task. Morwyn winced to herself. How could she expect to help the poor people of Greyhawk if she dawdled about so? Very foolish, she scolded herself.

It was then that a small cluster of people passed by and caught Morwyn's attention. And closer to her still, two half-elves were discussing who the group was and what they were doing. Morwyn remained silent, as it would be silly to ask again what was going on rather than to listen, but flushed a deep scarlet at the male's foul language.

Still, she pieced together that the boy's father was trapped, in danger, and quite possibly dead (how dreadful!), and the group was planning on helping him. Well that settled the question of what to do next! Without any further hesitation, Morwyn was trotting along behind the hodge-podge of adenturers.