Memories of Holdenshire.

Somewhat disappointed that there was in fact no small goblin at the bottom doing the whistling, Garbuffel sighed with disappointment and leaned back and looked around. Naturally, his attention was drawn to the goblins. Or, more specifically, the big goblin's top hat. What a lovely hat that was. It made him... made him... made... him....

Taller.

"Hey!" Garbuffel called to the goblins.
"Help me! There's a small goblin in the well! I think it's stuck!"

"These turds probably don't care. Whomever owns then didn't tell them to do jack, but they do owe and going to be their problem." Half directed to Garbuffle and rest to the Goblins.

Totally directed at the goblins, "Or do you have a name to save your soles." The athletic red headed Scarfs has her hand neatly on the pommel of her short sword for added thoughts. She looks to be eager to settle this point with their blood. Scarfs needs to learn some Goblin as her Orc is little use here. She stares them down with her light green eyes trying to look menacing.

An interesting point to the party. While Scarfs was inside finding a way out, she fairly much avoided making eye contact and now the last couple times since we have been out, she has always made hard eye contact. This is a noticeable difference to those with keen senses would note.

Sure, we need their money to complete up and all. But Scarfs is really more interest in who is running their show. She has a bit of hate for such people. It is what really gets her gall. There is a line of such people that really like to express their interest in her in very physical manors.

She would have no problems with poisoning this well with their bodies. Scarfs doesn't believe she has lived here as she can't remember any of the places around here. Further that those she has seen, don't recognize her in the slightest. Not that there is too many flaming red headed women around.

Scarfs can't recall what put her here but that doesn't change who she is. She is unsure if she could other means of influence. At least till she fingers out where exactly she is. Being in a city doesn't help. There is lots of them. She wonders if the Noble Mistress Morgana has any pull here.

Garbuffel looked down the well.
"I think he got gold teeth. Do you know any goblin with gold teeth?"

Scarfs thinks, Dang that pesky halfling.

This sucks to Scarfs that she lost her nice boots and these grimy Goblins have to bring it back to her attention. She takes a moment to draw out her short sword to further her point, "Now if you don't want find out just how sharp this blade is as many have found out. I suggest you think about the coin you own. And if your life is worth it."

Looking to the others showing she isn't alone here. Lookout the red head is gettng red hot.

Seeing his companions try to throw 2 completely approaches at the goblins he wonders if this party will ever be in the same page with their plans.
In an attempt to back up Scrafs, he tries to sneak closer to the goblins to be in a better position to strike if necessary.

Shrugging chain-shirted shoulders, our half-orc fellow moves with rangerly stealth. Flanking Zalashi, shifting stealthily around opposite side approaching the well. For to achieve a hidden tactical position of his very own!

Once Zaiashi is in position he readies himself for any possibilities while he waits for Harsk to be ready as well.

Harsk smiles slightly with toothy grin. He casts hazel eyed glance at Zaishi and nods to convey his readiness.

Scarfs note the other party's movements and the fact the Goblin seem to be ignoring her statements, she quiets and watches to see what further is going to happen.

Garbufel's smile faded away, along with the jovial twinkle in his eyes. Where before his posture was loose and relaxed, his back tensed and his movements became powerful. His eyes locked with the goblin with the top hat and the halfling stepped up to him with fast paces. Up close, he smiled, but it was not a pleasant thing to see. He had a rictus grin, and he lashed out with his right hand, snatching the top hat from the goblin. He then placed the hat on his own head, still smiling, daring the goblin to respond..

Our half-orc fellow really thinks a lot of himself, and his rangerly stealth! Then he puts an arrow into the air, towards the non-melee goblin person!

INIT is 8.

Garbuffel's wicked smile did not fade as he drew a masterfully carved club covered in a vine pattern and his wicker shield.