<div class="floatleft">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/41/d7/6b/41d76b6c131f89fbd3031c288b831381.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Drazzek Farstrider<br/><strong>HP:</strong>11 / 11<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Foundry Tavern<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Cosima, Kal, Rix.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Drazzek stepped into the tavern first, his eyes quickly scanning the room for any danger, his hand ready to shoot towards his bow at the slightest provocation; it might seem overly twitchy, but when you've lived in the wilds as long as Drazzek had, you learned to be a little twitchy in unfamiliar surroundings. The hunters and explorers who<em>weren't</em>twitchy...well, they ended up dead, or worse, to a large animal or a group of bandits that had long since signalled their approach and they were too certain of their own safety to notice it. He might well be called paranoid by other adventurers, but if you were paranoid, at least you were<em>prepared</em>for shit to go wrong and could plan around it. As it was, his twitchiness was unnecessary; the tavern held the thin layer of dust that came from several days of disuse, the chairs obviously hadn't been sat in for a while - save for a few here and there, where previous adventurers had relaxed before going on their presumably ill-fated mission into the caverns below Torch - and it lacked any of the vibrancy that a tavern should, by rights, possess; there were no patrons drinking themselves to death, no musicians trying desperately to catch the attention of the crowd, no bustling serving girls or surly barmen. It was eery.<br/><br/>All there was was silence, broken only by their own breathing and the creak of the door as they entered, and the slight stir of the wind as it rattled against several of the untouched bottles on the other side of the bar. The place wasn't filthy or decrepit, it was just...disused. He would have hoped that their lodgings weren't in a similar state, but he didn't really care; there were only three bedrooms upstairs, so he assumed that he was sleeping outside. Not an issue, really; he preferred sleeping under the stars. It also gave Ket - who was currently perched on his shoulder, ruffling at his own feathers - space to roam during the night if he needed to stretch his wings. But before they could do that, they needed to work out a plan...they only had snatches of information, so they were going into the caverns painfully blind - so blind, in fact, that ordinarily Drazzek would advise abandoning the entire venture, but that wasn't an option in this case - so they had to let their caution be equal to their ignorance...which meant planning an approach, planning a method of exploration, and sticking to it. The ancient ruins beneath Numeria were exceedingly dangerous to the unwary - everybody knew that - and Drazzek didn't fancy dying in some long forgotten stretch of cave because he wasn't careful enough any time soon.<br/><br/>Ket took off from Drazzek's shoulder towards the central table and perched on the back of the far chair, the one opposite the door, and Drazzek smiled to himself; smart bird. He strode over and took a seat in it, laying his bow and a single unnocked arrow on the table in front of him as he took up position facing the entrance; if somebody tried to break in and attack, he would have his weapon to hand easily, and a good vantage point from which to get advance warning. Ket would help too, of course; he was well trained at spotting danger before it was too late. He'd saved Drazzek's hide on more than one occasion over the years. He settled down in the chair, leaning back a little, but still maintaining his hunters grace, resting one hand on his bow, ready to scoop it up at a moments notice as he watched the others come in; Kal, the young fighter he'd encountered on the road to Torch being accosted by bandits; Rix, the young Ratfolk he'd helped several years ago whilst she was on the run who he'd bumped into again only a few days ago...and Cosima, the mysterious young woman who seemed to know Rix and Kal in some capacity. An odd party, to be sure, and one he wasn't sure he trusted yet...but beggers couldn't be choosers. 4,000 GP - possibly 8,000 - was nothing to sniff at, even when divided amongst four, and the people in Torch were scared and needed hope.<br/><br/>The problem was, he couldn't walk away from that, as much as he wanted to. He'd always had a noble streak, and in his old age, he was coming to hate it. He regarded the party critically. Kal, he knew he could - after a fashion - rely on in some capacity. They'd been on the road together for a good few weeks since that fateful intersection of paths, and had he wanted to kill Drazzek, he would have attempted to do so long ago. He didn't trust the kid completely, but he at least trusted him not to slide a knife between his ribs while he slept. He was competent, too, and didn't seem to mind Drazzek's gruff nature; that in and of itself earned him a pass. Rix was another odd case; he hadn't seen her in a good year or so, but if what he had gleaned of her personality was correct, she was unlikely to stab him in the back; he'd saved her life once upon a time, and that seemed to be important to her. He could rely on her, at least so far as she felt indebted to him. After that...who knew? He knew almost nothing about her beyond her hatred for the Technic League. On that, at least, they could agree. As for Cosima, well...she was an enigma. The other two seemed to know her, but that was really all he knew of her. She moved with an easy confidence, which suggested skill or power, which meant that he'd have to keep an eye on her. He'd only met her a few days ago, and he was going on a life or death mission with her...he'd have to be careful around her, at least until he knew more about her.<br/><br/>He waited for a moment until they were all seated, then tapped one of his fingers against his bow. "We're going in blind. That isn't good. We need to be careful, methodical and<em>cautious,</em>or we'll end up not coming back at all." His voice was gravelly from intermittent years of disuse and older age, deep and a little raspy, but still undeniably strong. He didn't sound<em>old,</em>just...<em>grizzled.</em>He didn't really speak all that often - only when he had something to say - but it seemed like a decent place to start. They needed to be careful, thorough and methodical in their approach. If they bulled on ahead, they were liable to spring some trap or danger that they hadn't seem coming, and then they were all in the shit. And he would be damned if he was gonna let some group of youngsters brash overconfidence kill him, where twenty years in the wilderness hadn't. He didn't have much to live for, it was true, but he wasn't ready to give up on life just yet. And if these kids thought that he was going to stick his neck out for their recklessness, they had another thing coming. He looked at each of them in turn. They didn't seem like the usual group of reckless, overconfident morons, but he had to be certain; call it paranoia, call it cynicism, call it whatever you wanted. He, personally, called it experience. It was better safe than sorry, after all, and he had no intention of being sorry.<br/><br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Roll</div><div class="spoiler_body">Drazzek's eyes are still flickering around the room, keeping an eye on everything. He rolls for perception, to see if there's anything unusual about the room, or any extra information that might be pertinent.<br/><br/>Drazzek gains +2 on Perception rolls, but Ket grants him +3 on Sight-Based perception. Therefore, it's a +5.<br/><br/>Rolls: 1d20a5 Result: 25 (https://elliquiy.com/forums/dicebot.php?r=98658)</div></div>