((Alrighty. This isn't anything special, but I might as well join in on the fun
))
Meanwhile, back at the campsite, Lon was wide awake. Using magic to make the tip of a stick of charcoal glow, he wrote down what he could remember of the tavern fight. Glossing over his own involvement (or lack of it, in this case) and emphasizing the actions of others was fairly standard practice for him, and he spun tales of the beautiful Kathryn knocking dwarves unconscious, of magic missiles filling the air, of rope coming alive and hogtying it's own owner, of the grim ranger who struck down a mighty warrior with a single blow.
What a stirring tale they would make together! And if this goblin thing went together as planned, then perhaps the story would grow even greater. Lon may have learned the bardic arts from a madman, but his instincts were sound: assuming this eclectic group could stay together, there was no limit to what they may achieve. For his part, Lon intended to help out in any way he could, recording the journey for posterity.
And...done. Keeping the stick lit for a moment longer, the half-elf flipped through the earlier pages of the tattered journal. Quite a few of them featured Kathryn in some way: the halfling riot, the kraken attack, the whole petrification incident...it made him pause. Lon wasn't quite sure what to make of the woman. Was she just an inspirational figure for the stories? Just a comrade-in-arms? A friend? Something...more?
He put the thoughts aside. This promised to be their biggest adventure together to date, and his innate sense of theatrics told him that such questions would be answered in time. Until then, it was his duty to protect his fellows and keep their spirits high, and Lon would need a good night's rest in order to do just that. With a whispered good night to Tetra, who nestled nearby, he canceled the light spell and closed his eyes.
))
