<strong>Grolo Feyseeker (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=918280)<br/>Boneyard<br/>Kamelands</strong><br/><br/>Grolo laughed when the vote when against him.  "Tree it is then, due southwest.  I suppose the river will just have to wait."  The gnome planted a foot on the spider near where his arrow had sunk; the damaged carapace crackled sickeningly, even beneath his diminutive weight.  With a tug and the cracking of wood and chitin, he ripped the shaft free.  The arrowhead, however, remained buried within the congealing innards of the great spider.<br/><br/>"Alas!" Grolo cried with great exaggeration, flicking the ichor streaked shaft at Uria.  "The spider has claimed my arrow!"<br/><br/>Grolo spent the night as he spent most nights: talking.  While the others pitched tents and nurtured a small fire in the side of the hill, the bard wandered the boneyard, murmuring to himself, and occasionally breaking out into metered prose.  To the others, it might have sounded like he was practicing his oration, or perhaps composing a new one.<br/><br/>As the sun began to set, Grolo returned to the campsite and cooked himself a simple dinner: dense blood sausage burnt black at the tips, a carrot diced and heated on a metal plate rubbed with oil, a few sips of water, and a long smoke from his pipe.  Grolo blew smoke rings as he reclined on a skull he had appropriated as a chair.  The tobacco had a queerly enticing scent to it that quickly permeated the campsite.<br/><br/>While Iradir was off praying, Grolo told a short story to Uria and the quiet swordlord.  He didn't bother with the Chant, but instead spoke as a grandfather would to his children's children.  The tale was a wise old story about an ancient blue dragon that was tricked into giving up its gold by a humble traveling trader.  The swordlord, a Brevosian, likely recognized it; it was common enough in tavern and amongst the smallfolk.<br/><br/>Finally, as the moon began to crest the hill, Grolo dozed off.<br/><br/><hr/><hr/><br/><strong>Grolo Feyseeker (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=918280)<br/>Ruined Campsite<br/>Kamelands</strong><br/><br/>As with the great spider in the boneyard the day before, Grolo completely missed the column of smoke.  Rather, it was the bubbling of the brook that roused him from his doze as he smacked dry lips.  It wasn't until Iradir spoke that Grolo realized there was a campsite before them.<br/><br/>"Whoa now, girl," Grolo said, reining her in at the edge of the copse, a few paces from the kobold corpses.  The pony, not used to death, snorted and pawed at the ground anxiously.  The gnome dismounted carefully and passed her the core of the apple he had had for breakfast.  "Easy, easy, just wait here and all will be set right."<br/><br/>The swordlord's comment prompted a response from Grolo.  "Kobolds fighting stags, stags killing kobolds.  What a lovely place this is."  For once, his voice was devoid of mirth.<br/><br/>Paying no regard for preserving tracks, Grolo walked directly into the center of the camp and squatted beside one of the kobolds.  "I wonder what killed these poor creatures?" he mused aloud, gently examining the body.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Actions</div><div class="spoiler_body">Grolo performs a Perception check to determine how the kobold died, and rolls a 13 (https://elliquiy.com/forums/dicebot.php?r=59826)</div></div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Stats</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong>Grolo Feyseeker<br/>Level 1 Gnome Bard</strong> (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=918280)<br/><em>Determining the cause of death./i]<br/>HP: 11/11<br/>Subdual: 11/11<br/>Hit Dice: 1d8<br/>Init: +3<br/><br/><strong>Saves</strong><br/>Fort: +2<br/>Reflex: +4<br/>Will: +1<br/><br/><strong>Defense</strong><br/>AC: 13<br/>Touch: 13<br/>Flat: 11<br/>CMD: 9<br/><br/><strong>Offense</strong><br/>Melee: -1<br/>Ranged: +3<br/>Carved Shortbow: 1d4 - 2 , 19 arrows  <br/>Quarterstaff: 1d4/1d4<br/><br/><strong>Spell Slots</strong><br/>Cantrips- ∞<br/>1st - 2/2<br/><br/><strong>Bardic</strong><br/>Bardic Performance: 8/8 Rounds<br/></em></div></div>