(later, yeah)
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Drakor gave one final glare, then slipped away with the rest of the group.
(may I resume scouting ahead?)
(you may)
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Canary starts mumbling something underneath her breath. It starts very slow, and almost inaudible, as if sheâs finding her pace, butâŚ
(could i take⌠15? on a performance check. 20 seems a little too good)
(will describe details in a bit if so)
(sure, but like with taking 20, it will effectively correspond to failing multiple times before you manage to succeed)
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Your caravan proceeds further southwest, and as you get further from the stream, the farmers you pass stop seeming quite so tense. But a little while onwards, maybe fifteen minutes of walking or so, you see a group of people having an argument â youâd guess from their clothing that both are farmers, but one of them has significantly dustier clothing, and that one has a group of children with him, and a woman who in context is probably his wife.
(do you want to try to eavesdrop 
)
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ââŚmight be worth taking a further look on our return trip. Assuming some wannabe heroes donât deal with that later anyhow.â
(Ja.)
Canaryâs voice rises out of her whisper, and starts to audibly⌠sing. Maybe the boredom of the trip is really getting to her.
(performance: sing, 15+5=20)
(sure)
As you get closer, their argument gets louder, and itâs not hard to pick out what theyâre saying.
(dustier guy:) ââtold us youâd pay, you dishonorable fucking bastardââ
(less dusty guy:) âYouâre one to talk about dishonor, lying fucking Rostlander coming into our homes and pretending youâre one of us, youâre lucky Iâm not trying to teach you a real lessonââ
One of the younger kids claps her hands over her ears and starts crying; one of her siblings tries to entertain her by making faces, to little avail.
(dustier guy:) âYou want us to leave, fine, but Iâm not moving one inch âtill you give us the money weâre owedââ
(less dusty guy:) âI donât owe you shit, I wouldnât have agreed to give you one bit if you hadnât liedââ
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Wanderer is careful to avoid saying much. Heâs become quite aware of Nynaâs judging of his actions. He would not like to lower her opinion of him, so he avoids giving his opinion on the matter. His opinion, of course, is that the Magistrate isnât doing his job if there are bandits easily able to set up a checkpoint.
âIâve got to hand it to you⌠youâve played by all the same rules⌠it takes the truth to fool me, and now youâve made me angryâŚâ
âI canât decide whether you should live or die⌠please donât hang your head and cry⌠no wonder why my heart feels dead inside; itâs cold and hard and petrified⌠lock the doors, close the blinds⌠weâre going for a rideâŚâ
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Drakor examined the farmers for weapons, both standard and improvised.
Neither of them seems to have any sort of unusual weapon, certainly nothing like the bills the bandits were carrying, but the less dusty one is wielding a plow (pretty difficult to use as an actual weapon, but might still be able to injure someone if he really tried), and the dustier one has a knife at his belt. None of the children are visibly armed, nor is the possible wife. Everyone but the less dusty farmer and the very youngest children is carrying a pack, and in a pinch they might be able to whap someone with their packs.
(does it look like theyâll be arguing for a while?)
(probably, yeah)
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She nears the end of her song, and goes silent again.
Drakor slipped back to the group.
(I presume I donât need to roll for stealth here if I didnât to eavesdrop?)
âAnything of note?â
(no need, they Really arenât paying attention to you)
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