[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/230709/b2d64c98395f01e2c7cbdf98293c4c91.png[/img]

[color=saddlebrown][b]Time:[/b][/color] Morning
[color=saddlebrown][b]Location:[/b][/color] Campsite outside Roshmi
[color=saddlebrown][b]Interactions:[/b][/color] Mari [@princess]; FIVE [@shiningsector]; Thraash [@funnyguy]
[color=saddlebrown][b]Mentions:[/b][/color] 
[color=saddlebrown][b]Equipment:[/b][/color]
[hider]His travelling clothes - Dark, earthy shirt and coat, with trousers tucked into boots
A hooded, oilskin cloak
His bow, unstrung
A musket
Two pistols
Two hatchets
His travelling pack[/hider][/center]
Scathael accepted the Warforged’s gift with some hesitation. Not out of any sort of suspicion, however; the Dark Elf had a strong feeling that if the mago-mechanical being truly wanted him dead, such a roundabout method of killing him wouldn’t be their first choice of action. The handful of Warforgeds Scathael had dealt with weren’t the easiest individuals to handle – he had to admit that much – but neither were they prone to irrationality like creatures of flesh-and-blood. Logic guided their actions; logic that could be discerned with a bit of thought on Scathael’s part.

And based on his brief observations, this particular Warforged wasn’t the sort for subterfuge. Anyone who chose to storm a bar in Roshmi’s slums – by great force, Scathael would add – for a mere two individuals was unlikely to consider poison as a first resort.

If anything, Scathael had every confidence that the Warforged’s concoction would do exactly as he said, to the letter. His hesitation came from just [i]how[/i] well it would do so. The differences between an elf such as he and a beastkin such as Vallana were vast, nevermind that she was a mere child, and he was well over the halfway mark to his third century. Even if he adjusted the dosage, or diluted the mixture, or made it weaker in some other way, what would put him to sleep might very well bring Vallana to an eternal slumber. 

But that was unlikely the Warforged’s intention. There was no reason for them to harm a child. 

[color=saddlebrown]“Thank you,”[/color] Scathael said and chucked the satchel into his bag. He would examine its contents in closer detail later. Perhaps he might even make a visit to a chemist’s shop to borrow their tools. Either way, there was no way he was going to feed any of it to Vallana before he made certain it was adequately safe. [color=saddlebrown]“Your arm,”[/color] he continued and nodded to the Warforged’s shoulder. [color=saddlebrown]“How is it? You should have the same range of movement as before. I don’t think the patching plates are interfering with anything.”[/color] He cast a glance at the Dragonborn. [color=saddlebrown]“And I don’t think he damaged your magical circuits either. Not that I can fix it, not without a proper, actual forge and magework equipment.”[/color]

The Dark Elf turned his attention back to the block of wood in his hands, shaving off a few more layers and carving out the start of a long, elegant curve along its length. [color=saddlebrown]“It wasn’t home,”[/color] he said in response to Mari, almost reflexively. That was the truth, wasn’t it? He hadn’t even been there for that long. It didn't make any sense for him to form any sort of connection with the place. Not a deep one, at least. 

He chewed on his lip, then looked at Vallana. [color=saddlebrown]“Not mine, at least,”[/color] he added. The girl was beginning to stir, but she wasn’t quite awake yet. Soon, Scathael knew, he would have to rouse her, and that was easily the worst part of his day. In her dreams, Vallana was still living a peaceful life. She still had her family, she still had her home, she still had her life. In her dreams, she was safe. She was happy. But here, in this waking nightmare? There was nought but sadness and pain for her. Just the sting of sweet memories turning into painful recollections of a lost past. Scathael knew exactly what it was like. He had lived it before. 

[color=saddlebrown]“Anyway,”[/color] he muttered with a quick shake of his head. He nodded to Vallana. [color=saddlebrown]“What are we doing with her, if we’re going after a manticore?”[/color] He asked pointedly and looked at Mari. [color=saddlebrown]“Bringing a child with us to deal with something like that is bloody insane.”[/color] It had crossed his mind that he had the option of simply waiting for them at camp – it wasn’t as if the manticore was his problem. But the more he thought about it, the less it sounded like a good idea. For one, he was likely stuck with this group for a good long while, and helping them now might get him into their good graces. And secondly, a manticore’s hide was too good of a prize to let slip.

As if on cue, Vallana’s eyes slowly fluttered open. A quiet yawn left his mouth, and she looked at Scathael with a dazed smile on her face. It didn’t last, however, and quickly turned into a dejected smile as she was reminded of the reality of her situation. [color=FFE4E1]“G…Good morning,”[/color] she squeaked and sat up. Her eyes went from the Warforged, to the Dragonborn, then the Rabbit Girl, before at least settling on the Light Elf. [color=FFE4E1]“Did…Did I oversleep? I’m sorry…” [/color]She pressed herself close to Scathael, as if she were trying to hide behind him.

[color=saddlebrown]"No, you didn't,"[/color] Scathael quickly replied, and went on with his work. [color=saddlebrown]"You woke up just in time, I think,"[/color] he added and gave everyone else a quick glance.