Member
Though the rest of the band shifts uneasily at the approach of four more armed people, their leader makes a placating gesture before urging his horse towards the newcomers. "Well met indeed, my friends." He replies cheerfully, raising his own hand to return Anchor's gesture. A bronze-skinned half-elf, he give the group a quick, appraising glance before returning his attention to Marcon "You know, it's the strangest thing. I feel as though I know you from somewhere." After a brief, thoughtful moment he shrugs and resumes talking "Ah well, it is of no importance. My name is Xolkin Alassandar. As a token of my goodwill and friendship I will be forthright about my purpose here. You see, I and my companions are all mercenaries- bounty hunters, in truth- tasked with bringing a fugitive by the name of Kella Darkhope back with us to Waterdeep in order to face justice."
Sitting upright in his saddle and craning his neck, he glances around the town square as if expecting to see his quarry lurking behind an overturned cart. I must comment on how few people I've seen about. That, the wreckage, the blood splatters and those little goblinoid corpses leads me to believe this town has seen better days. If you would bring your people out of hiding, I would be more than happy to offer the aid of my men in repairing and rebuilding what we can once we've had a good look over them to make sure the criminal is not hiding among your people.
No sooner does he finish speaking than the door to the northernmost building- a large tavern bearing a wrought-iron sign with the name "Nightstone Inn" facing the square- flies open. In the doorway is the small figure of another goblin that apparently missed out on all the excitement up until this point. It takes a brief panicked glance back within the tavern as it stumbles out into the fading light. With a loud *THWANG* the goblin pitches face first into the dirt, a crossbow bolt sticking from its back.
Sitting upright in his saddle and craning his neck, he glances around the town square as if expecting to see his quarry lurking behind an overturned cart. I must comment on how few people I've seen about. That, the wreckage, the blood splatters and those little goblinoid corpses leads me to believe this town has seen better days. If you would bring your people out of hiding, I would be more than happy to offer the aid of my men in repairing and rebuilding what we can once we've had a good look over them to make sure the criminal is not hiding among your people.
No sooner does he finish speaking than the door to the northernmost building- a large tavern bearing a wrought-iron sign with the name "Nightstone Inn" facing the square- flies open. In the doorway is the small figure of another goblin that apparently missed out on all the excitement up until this point. It takes a brief panicked glance back within the tavern as it stumbles out into the fading light. With a loud *THWANG* the goblin pitches face first into the dirt, a crossbow bolt sticking from its back.
