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[h2][color=6ecff6][i][b]Hugh Caphazath[/b][/i][/color][/h2][i][b][color=6ecff6]Half-Elf, Monk (Way of Shadow), Level 3[/color][/b][/i]
[color=6ecff6][i][b]HP:[/b][/i][/color] 24/24	[color=6ecff6][i][b]Armor Class:[/b][/i][/color] 17	[color=6ecff6][i][b]Conditions:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=6ecff6][i][b]Location:[/b][/i][/color] Goblin Camp --> Avonshire Township
[color=6ecff6][i][b]Action:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=6ecff6][i][b]Bonus Action:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=6ecff6][i][b]Reaction:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
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[right][img]https://i.imgur.com/4a0uP44.png[/img][/right]
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Hugh could only cluck his tongue in unrestrained disdain for the Bard. Useless. For someone who had professed to be such a socialite, she seemed remarkably incapable of self-reflection. Worse still, her uselessness was now being enabled by the rest of the party.

He couldn’t quite understand what was so hard about being open about her combat capabilities. On reflection, it was apparent that she’d said the least of any of them in that regard, and she continued to remain as frustratingly vague as possible at every opportunity. Being a necromancer was one thing; for not a single member of the party truly begrudged her that occupation, and it was obvious to anyone with eyes and a functional brain. Hugh, himself, might have been wary as a matter of course, but he wasn’t prejudiced by any stretch of the word.

Being a socialite and, ironically, quite private about her personal info was just as fine too. Hugh would be a hypocrite of the highest order to begrudge her that either, and so he did not.

However, to be as spectacularly vague as she’d been in regards to her effective combat capabilities? That was utterly unacceptable. In fact, it was actively a threat to the entire party, all of whom -even himself- had been far more forthcoming about exactly what they brought to the table. She presented herself one way, and then took completely contrary actions, sabotaging her own effectiveness and then getting angry at others for her own mistakes? Absolute absurdity. And now, she wanted to try and shut down this line of discussion before she could be made to confront her own fault? What cowardice. What [i]arrogance[/i].

For a martial artist like him, arrogance was the enemy. To assume you were the best, the greatest, was to court certain death. There was always more to learn, always room to grow, always a fresh flaw to overcome and smooth out. You were not invincible. You were not indomitable. To lack the capacity to reflect upon your own mistakes was to be a blade pointed at yourself and your allies as much as any enemy, and Hugh would have to be mindful of this with Victoria going forward. He’d been willing to give her the benefit of a doubt to a certain degree, but this egregious misstep was a glimpse at something altogether more immediately destructive for the team.

Snorting disdainfully at Victoria’s silver-tongued deescalation, he made it perfectly clear exactly how little he was willing to humor her attempts to dismiss the issue. [color=6ecff6]“You would be best served speaking up more clearly from now on, lest more dangerous assumptions occur.”[/color] That said, he would allow things to cool off for now, but his position was clear. He would not abide by this proposed pact of silence going forward. Her actions were a [i]threat[/i] so long as she refused to address them, and he would treat them as such.

(/._./)

Despite the bodies having been gathered, it seemed his comrades had yet to engage in the tried and true act of “field compensation”. That being the case, Hugh set about emptying the pockets of the enemy, uncovering a number of small coin pouches and -far more critically- a rather startlingly well-made letter, written in a language he didn’t know… that was unnervingly familiar. Also glimmering in the dirt and filth were a number of what appeared to be coat buttons that once belonged to the victimized cadaver. He would inspect both later. For now, a far more important matter beckoned:

Payment.

Walking over to the party’s newly acquired cart, Hugh gently emptied the pouches one at a time into one hand, partitioning the coinage within out into small stacks of ten atop the wood of the back. As the party got underway towards Avonshire again and he tallied up the total, something strange occurred to him. [color=6ecff6]“Why… is all of this silver?”[/color] Indeed, not a single other coin that one might have expected a group of prolific raiders to possess could be found amongst the bounty. [color=6ecff6]“Not even a single copper or gold… Gold is one thing, but no copper? Surely, they would have at least one?”[/color] he voiced his thoughts aloud. Frowning, he nodded firmly, running his fingers over the course velum note he’d retrieved. [color=6ecff6]“This supports my current conclusion. I’d hoped it was mere coincidence, but I now believe these goblins were on someone’s payroll. The weapons… The silver… It makes more sense by the moment.”[/color]

Pursing his lips tightly, Hugh collected the coinage together and set about distributing it as evenly as he could manage, allocating 25 silver pieces to every member of the group. A single silver piece remained, but after a moment’s thought, Hugh shrugged, pocketed it, retrieved eight copper pieces from his current funds, and gave two to each of his allies.

That done, the bounty hunter cracked his knuckles and settled down to inspect the other items of note. The buttons appeared to have come from a coat and were made of a silvery-white material that looked not dissimilar to anything from steel to platinum. Hugh was hardly a smith, so he really couldn’t say more than that. Of note, one of the buttons bore a mark similar to the one emblazoned upon the liberated casks in the cart. [color=6ecff6]“Unknown metal, but it doesn’t seem to be standard fare. These are obviously the buttons of the wealthy. At least one has markings similar to the casks, so they definitely belonged to a servant or employee of some kind.”[/color] At Kathryn’s noise of interest, Hugh shrugged and handed off the buttons to her, turning his attention to the final object of note:

[i]The Letter[/i].

As it turned out, upon liberating it fully from its leather confines, the letter was not limited to a single sheet, but [i]several[/i], which Hugh sifted through quietly for several minutes with a frown etched upon his face and brow furrowed in concentration. The language was nothing he could read, not with anything even approaching fluently… but it was [i]familiar[/i]. And after painstakingly dragging his vision through the word soup, line by line, word by word, a couple jumped out to him.

[color=6ecff6]“[i]Mreakt.[/i] [i]Hfresdt.[/i]”[/color] He made gutteral noise in his throat, as he voiced the words in turn, his pronunciation mangled and abysmal, but likely comprehensible to a native speaker. [color=6ecff6]“Means…”[/color] He tasted the words. [color=6ecff6]“Something like flesh or meat… and? Food? Feast? Consume?”[/color] Grimacing, Hugh shook his head. [color=6ecff6]“This is… the goblin tongue I believe. I’ve encountered their writings on occasion during my hunts of their raiding parties in the past, but I’ve never gotten more than a cursory comprehension of scattered concepts, just a word or two. It’s not an easy language to find a teacher for.”[/color] Sighing, Hugh carefully rolled the sheets back up and replaced them in their leather home. [color=6ecff6]“This is turning out to be a potentially much greater lead than I first thought. We’ll need to find a translator.”[/color]

Luckily, in a place like the Avonshire Township proper, such a thing should be far from unfeasible.

(/._./)

The approach to and through the southern entrance went without overt remark or reaction from Hugh. He wasn’t typically one for lively festivities, after all, and the pungent scent of civilization -even with drifting undertones of good food- after returning from the fresh-aired general outdoors had done nothing for either his enthusiasm or budding appetite. The ruckus beyond was far from welcoming to his eyes and ears.

Frowning mildly, Hugh gathered that the cart they had retrieved had belonged to some relative of the troubled civilians, someone who was apparently important enough to have a sizable armed search party prepared to set out to find them. That was rather unfortunate; it seemed a reasonable assumption that they wouldn’t be able to retain the cargo for themselves. Perhaps if they were in luck, some impromptu compensation would be offered. Would seem a waste to go to all this trouble otherwise. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the swaggering man who claimed to be the Constable Cavendash they’d heard about.

Hopping lightly out of the cart at the man’s prompting, Hugh planted his staff gently and leaned against it, answering the Constable’s question. [color=6ecff6]“The former, or near enough to it. I like to think that if we were mere plunderers, we’d be a little too competent to bring obviously marked cargo straight into town.”[/color] He gave a wry, genuinely amused grin. Anything else he might have said was drowned out by the Tiefling’s interjection and barrage of words, and Hugh frowned lightly before metaphorically taking a step back from the conversation for the time being.

After all, the socialite position was not one he relished, and this was a good chance to see if the other members of the party could do their part in this area. He’d stay out of it for now unless he was addressed inquiries… or the others started bungling things too badly.

At the Tiefling’s sudden silent glance for aid, Hugh found his poker face restraining a note of incredulity. After everything he’d seen from her, he’d not once thought her the type to run dry of words so quickly. Moreover, however, whether intentional or not, her retelling was delightfully vague of actually important details, like what they had looted off the goblins, and Hugh had every intention of leaving things that way. There was no way he was going to give up the letter they’d found, and mentioning it would only be a great way to see it confiscated.

That said… this was a great opportunity to deploy the party’s cover.

Given that he had been prompted… if all too much sooner than he’d expected or personally desired, Hugh elaborated, [color=6ecff6]“Given the early winter and, thus, the early encroachment of goblin raiders and the like, the Sheriff of Darenby has apparently been stretched a bit thin. He has seen fit to hire us to handle some of the problems he doesn’t have the time or resources to spare his personal attention.”[/color] Hugh nodded his head leadingly at the collection of goblin ears. [color=6ecff6]“Personally, I hadn’t expected we’d be earning our pay quite so quickly, but given how the goblins were actually camping otherwise unopposed on the main trade road, itself…? Well, I’d say Mr. Arbalest’s intuition is panning out.”[/color] There, that should explain the party’s presence without saying anything that would compromise the informational security of their mission… any worse than it already was.