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Message: <blockquote data-quote="FuHyBi69" data-source="post: 445239" data-attributes="member: 43874">When talking to Garret while he's in the cage and select the talk option "Garret", there is some repetitiveness when referring to Hethia as the "Crazy Elf Witch"in the dialog. (It is separated decently, so may not necessarily need alteration. It would just be better to have different descriptors in the same dialog.)The Original-So, can he tell you just what happened between him leaving the Frost Hound and ending up in a cage? "What's that got to do with getting everyone out of here?" Well, everything. If you're going to formulate a plan to escape, then you need to have all the pertinent information at hand, don't you? Even if he thinks that there's nothing important there, it's always very possible he might have missed something, no? And let's face it, you're getting the distinct impression from his attitude and demeanor that his reluctance to share that bit of information has less to do with its relevance and more to do with salving his pride. Are you right? "Hrrrmph. Kinda sorta."Good, at least he can admit it, even if it took some pressing. Now, if he could just spill the beans... Garret takes a moment to gather his thoughts — you can practically see the gears turning in his head as he gets his memories lined up and in order. Then:"Okay, where do you want me to begin? If my old man sent you to get me, then no doubt he's told you some of the story." He can begin from where he had an argument with Garth and stormed out of the Frost Hound. That's as far as his father got, anyway. "Huh, okay. So my old man said a bunch of choice things back then — that I was throwing away what he'd worked for, that he'd suffered so much to have the chance to give me a better life, and that I didn't know what I was getting myself into. Was only natural for him to say that; he had his fun when he was young, then gets all crabby when he realises he's not as spry as he used to be, and the wind starts to ring hollow in his bones. "I was pissed, too. If I could take down this dumb animal that'd gotten everyone so worked up, my old man would be forced to admit that I wasn't the useless piece of dogmeat that he thinks I am. That's his favorite line at the bar, you know? 'Hunters coming in thinking they're the next dragonslayers,' that's what he says. So I up and go." But Garth and Sanders were raising a militia to go and check things out. What makes him think that he could succeed where — Garret holds up a hand for silence. "As a kid, I spent plenty of time out of doors. You know, just a healthy enjoyment of the natural world — fresh air, a good hike, the company of big hairy animals like me and so on."Uh-huuh. "The only thing a militia would've accomplished stomping through the undergrowth would be to just scare the beasts into falling back, then after they'd picked over the area and gotten tired, whatever was harassing the camp would simply have come back once they'd gone home." Is he sure he isn't just rationalizing away his bad decision to charge straight ahead of everyone else in order to prove himself to his father? Garret narrows his eyes. "Look, friend, if you want me to continue, knock it off, okay? I'm humiliated enough as it is — you don't have to rub it in any further. If you want to turn into my old man, can you do it after we've dealt with this?" Right. So what happened next? He shrugs. "I pick up my things and start heading out towards Westbank. Yeah, the forest is oddly silent when I get close, but nothing jumps out at me like I was expecting. The trees, though, they were twisting the path. Making it back in upon itself, making it hard to get anywhere. You follow my meaning?" You think you do, yes. You encountered the same thing on the way here. "Then like me, you realized that following the path closely wasn't the best thing to do, was it? I don't know what kind of spell the crazy elf witch cast to bend the woods to her bidding, but I was smart enough to go around instead of meeting it head-on."Anyway, so far so good, I make it to the camp, slip in. Found no one around, not in the work yard. There's this huge-ass warg prowling the bushes by the smokehouse, seems to be looking for something. I didn't know if the folks at the camp were in hiding, fled or dead, but I figured that if I took out the problem there and then I wouldn't have to keep on looking over my shoulder while investigating. So I sneak up on that huge thing and wrestle it to the ground —"Wait, he what? Garret looks up at you and scratches his ears. "Did I say something wrong?" He just said he wrestled the warg to the ground? "I didn't say it was easy, but I did it, yeah. Was more of a challenge than most — those things don't really live in the Old Forest, and I figured it must've wandered down from the higher peaks. Of course, I didn't consider that someone might've brought it down, and —" He wrestled the gods know how many weights of snarling predator to the ground? "Is it that odd?" You'd just expected him to use a weapon. Like... like a bow. A spear. A javelin. Or something. Not his fists. Garret snorts. "My entire body is a weapon." A weapon that can't break out of an old rusty cage. "Touche. I go with what works, yeah? You don't criticize my style, and I won't criticize yours. Besides, I'd pretty much gotten my hands about that warg's neck and was throttling it to death when the crazy elf witch comes running up and casts some kind of spell — I only realize she's there when I can't move any more and fall off the warg like an idiot. "And that's about that, really. The witch comes up, gives me an earful for hurting her poor pet, then strips me of my stuff and locks me in this cage because she's not sure what to do with me. And that's the long and short of it."My Alteration-So, can he tell you just what happened between him leaving the Frost Hound and ending up in a cage? "What's that got to do with getting everyone out of here?" Well, everything. If you're going to formulate a plan to escape, then you need to have all the pertinent information at hand, don't you? Even if he thinks that there's nothing important there, it's always very possible he might have missed something, no? And let's face it, you're getting the distinct impression from his attitude and demeanor that his reluctance to share that bit of information has less to do with its relevance and more to do with salving his pride. Are you right? "Hrrrmph. Kinda sorta."Good, at least he can admit it, even if it took some pressing. Now, if he could just spill the beans... Garret takes a moment to gather his thoughts — you can practically see the gears turning in his head as he gets his memories lined up and in order. Then:"Okay, where do you want me to begin? If my old man sent you to get me, then no doubt he's told you some of the story." He can begin from where he had an argument with Garth and stormed out of the Frost Hound. That's as far as his father got, anyway. "Huh, okay. So my old man said a bunch of choice things back then — that I was throwing away what he'd worked for, that he'd suffered so much to have the chance to give me a better life, and that I didn't know what I was getting myself into. Was only natural for him to say that; he had his fun when he was young, then gets all crabby when he realises he's not as spry as he used to be, and the wind starts to ring hollow in his bones. "I was pissed, too. If I could take down this dumb animal that'd gotten everyone so worked up, my old man would be forced to admit that I wasn't the useless piece of dogmeat that he thinks I am. That's his favorite line at the bar, you know? 'Hunters coming in thinking they're the next dragonslayers,' that's what he says. So I up and go." But Garth and Sanders were raising a militia to go and check things out. What makes him think that he could succeed where — Garret holds up a hand for silence. "As a kid, I spent plenty of time out of doors. You know, just a healthy enjoyment of the natural world — fresh air, a good hike, the company of big hairy animals like me and so on."Uh-huuh. "The only thing a militia would've accomplished stomping through the undergrowth would be to just scare the beasts into falling back, then after they'd picked over the area and gotten tired, whatever was harassing the camp would simply have come back once they'd gone home." Is he sure he isn't just rationalizing away his bad decision to charge straight ahead of everyone else in order to prove himself to his father? Garret narrows his eyes. "Look, friend, if you want me to continue, knock it off, okay? I'm humiliated enough as it is — you don't have to rub it in any further. If you want to turn into my old man, can you do it after we've dealt with this?" Right. So what happened next? He shrugs. "I pick up my things and start heading out towards Westbank. Yeah, the forest is oddly silent when I get close, but nothing jumps out at me like I was expecting. The trees, though, they were twisting the path. Making it back in upon itself, making it hard to get anywhere. You follow my meaning?" You think you do, yes. You encountered the same thing on the way here. "Then like me, you realized that following the path closely wasn't the best thing to do, was it? I don't know what kind of spell the crazy elf witch cast to bend the woods to her bidding, but I was smart enough to go around instead of meeting it head-on."Anyway, so far so good, I make it to the camp, slip in. Found no one around, not in the work yard. There's this huge-ass warg prowling the bushes by the smokehouse, seems to be looking for something. I didn't know if the folks at the camp were in hiding, fled or dead, but I figured that if I took out the problem there and then I wouldn't have to keep on looking over my shoulder while investigating. So I sneak up on that huge thing and wrestle it to the ground —"Wait, he what? Garret looks up at you and scratches his ears. "Did I say something wrong?" He just said he wrestled the warg to the ground? "I didn't say it was easy, but I did it, yeah. Was more of a challenge than most — those things don't really live in the Old Forest, and I figured it must've wandered down from the higher peaks. Of course, I didn't consider that someone might've brought it down, and —" He wrestled the gods know how many weights of snarling predator to the ground? "Is it that odd?" You'd just expected him to use a weapon. Like... like a bow. A spear. A javelin. Or something. Not his fists. Garret snorts. "My entire body is a weapon." A weapon that can't break out of an old rusty cage. "Touche. I go with what works, yeah? You don't criticize my style, and I won't criticize yours. Besides, I'd pretty much gotten my hands about that warg's neck and was throttling it to death when the loony elf comes running up and casts some kind of spell — I only realize she's there when I can't move any more and fall off the warg like an idiot. "And that's about that, really. The witch comes up, gives me an earful for hurting her poor pet, then strips me of my stuff and locks me in this cage because she's not sure what to do with me. And that's the long and short of it."</blockquote>

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