Rolled 16, 3, 18 = 37 (3d20)
>>5801835Pearce stared at you in silence for a time, then placed his hands on his hips, adjusted his stance, and looked skyward with a long, weary groan.
“Are you KIDDING me with that?”
You looked at him questioningly, and it was his turn to glare.
“What, we have an awkward moment out in this awful wasteland and you think I’m just going to abandon my best friend and his weird dad—”
“Hey now!” Rufoldo shouted.
“—to get killed or captured by goblins or whatever else in this godforsaken wilderness?”
You stared at Pearce, and his stern expression broke into a half-smile as he nodded towards where Terzo was tending to the horses.
“Besides, we only have one carriage. Were you giving it to me, or were you expecting me to WALK to Hawksong?”
You felt yourself blush a little, and knew it must be visible by how loudly Pearce laughed at you as he slapped you on the back.
“Come on, what’s next, ‘Party Leader’?”
What was next was, as you saw it, the seeking-out of the Ashurati—or Neme, was Nemenmo had told you they called themselves. Your magical stores were refreshed, as were Pearce’s, and that meant you had <Faerie Fire> to guide you. You had no equivalent to seek out the goblins, save perhaps to have Muffins attempt to track them by scent. You’d never tried that before, though, and you had no idea how to handle them once you arrived there—no knowledge of the local goblin culture, only rudimentary understanding of their tongue, and every reason to believe that your arrival would be met with hostility.
Well then, the enemy of your enemy was your friend—and a friend indebted was a friend indeed.
