For the sake of the record, I only seized the oppurtunity of the investigation out of a desperate, desperate desire to get away from the halfterm marking, but I didn't realise there'd be more children here. It's all respect and "yes father" and "thank you father" to my face, but I know that I'm some uncool old man who they're humouring. Probably shouldn't have had that nap, not really countering any stereotypes there.
The party I've been saddled with are a curious bunch, and by curious I mean ungodly. In brief, there's the rich one, the short one, the shorter one, the hairier one and butch, who has all the self confidence of a man who had his head pushed down a toilet by mage hand. In long form, the Drake boy was very polite, lots of "father"s, but also brought his bloody butler with him and I'm fairly confident he can't dress without him. The butler's a brown nosing sycophant and really smells like dog. The halfling, Raphaela, is probably a nice lass but spend an inordinate quantity of time with a paper maché cow head on her entire top half, and that image is and will stick with me the entire time I'll know her. That brings me to "butch". "Butch" made this cow head and likes to collect skulls. "Butch" also insists on being called "Butch" and I'm going to let that speak for itself. The other one, the white haired girl whose name insists on sliding away from me, has a great nose for wine, and almost no other character traits I can really recall; that could be deliberate or just the wine, really.
I've gathered from the innkeeper and various people I've bumped into after my nap that the party managed to prise a skyknight free from that godawful spider, and the halfling and the Drake boy has got their heads around gnoll : note to self, ask Alan about it later, might be a book or something I could slap my name on. Anyway, the caravan's here to take me back to the temple and the party, left a couple coppers and a blessing for the keeper. Bharnarol keep you.