Clash was rarely caught off guard, but he did not see this coming.

Getting lazy!  He mental scolds himself before he moves into action.

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OOC:  Initiative Check = Roll(1d20)+2: 13,+2 Total:15

Ini: 6+3= 9

"Can't handle a little bit of pressure, Hastur? "

Hamrick dodges and follows by throwing a punch of his own towards Hastur. "Come get some!"

AC 17. Hastur doesn't hit.
Init 15.

Assuming Hamrick acts first during next round, Hamrick attacks Hastur for non-lethal damage, throwing a punch at him, and gets a ... 5 total on his attack roll (sucks).

The Halfling, unharmed, throws a punch, poorly.

It doesn't look like Hastur is going to stop on his own. Girly is cowering in the background.

Its's Clash => Fargrim => Hastur

"Abrasive as he is, I cannot allow this,"  Clash says as tries to grab Hastur in a bear hug.

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OOC:  As a Standard Action, Clash attempts to Grab Hastur.  Clash's attack hit Reflex 14.

Clash gets hastur and pulls him away some, Hastur almost throwing a punch at the warforged before getting his bearing and thinking better of it. Quite Obviously not intent on fighting anymore, Hastur stands there for a minute catching his breath.

"Stand down, both of you!"  Clash yells in his best command voice, standing between Hamrick and Hastur.

Looking at Hamrick and Fargrim, Clash says to his companions, "I am not comfortable with bringing the girl along."

Turning to Hastur, he says to the half-orc, "will you give us your oath on your House and Dragonmark that you will see the girl safely to an orphanage?  I will give you some coin to give the orphanage as an donation with the girl."

Returning his gaze to his friends, especially Hamrick, Clash says, "will this suffice for you, his oath on House Tharashk and his Dragonmark?"

Hamrick tries to get a grip.

He looks at Hastur with the utmost disdain, and seems for a moment ready to throw another punch at him. Then his eyes turn slightly in their sockets to have a look at the girl. His disgust at the half orcs' temper disappears for a split second. There is something... some... concern? Affection? Nah, that can't be. Not Hamrick. The look disappears as quickly as it came to the halfling's face.

"FINE."

He walks away without throwing another look to either Hastur or the girl.

Well, again, I could find a temple that'd likely take 'er in, if it comes te that.

Fargrim relaxes slightly, seeing the situation defused somewhat.

Hastur stops a moment, looking at the warforged in the eye, before undoing his collar and showing his dragon mark. Closing his eyes, and fumbling for a grey bag off his mount and looking almost like he's praying, Hastur keeps mumming a soft refrain of some sort. Eventually his dragon mark seems to detach and come floating in between Hastur and Clash.

" By my house and my dragonmark, I swear to do right by this girl, to the best of my ability, may my dragonmark be struck useless if I do not "

Arcana or History Check DC 10, This is a kind of unbreakable promise per say, a ritual not used very often due to the fact that it is actually unbreakable. The Vow will leave a mark between those who make it that will flash and alert everyone that the vow is broken if it is broken, before ruining the oath bearer's dragon mark.

The Ritual Stops with the mark resettling around the hand that Hastur is offering to Clash. If you accept it clash the mark will settle around both of your hands before fading into your flesh leaving behind a light etching in the shape of a dragon mark, that is barely noticeable.

perception check DC 20, Hastur already has a vow in place...

Hastur leaves with the girl shortly after. As the three of you solemnly head out on the road, it does not take long for your Cyre sharpened instincts to kick in and realise you are being followed...

Clash accepts the offering by Hastur and bows while keeping eye contact with Hastur.  Clash reaches into his belt pouch and takes out 50 gold pieces and hands them to Hastur.

"Please give this to her new caretakers," Clash says to Hastur.

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OOC:  Clash's Arcana check = 9 and his Perception check = 22.  Gold pieces marked off character sheet.

You continue on your path, being followed, until roughly half way to Blackroot, you encounter an interesting fellow.

A giant lion looking fellow. His Hair/Mane scraggly, his features humanoid. This shifter carries a large stick.

Looking mournfully up at you three, He says "You three should turn back now, Blackroot is a dangerous place to be "

He wont try to stop you, but obviously he considered the warning important to give.  Both you and him make a reaction as your 'follower' bursts into the road. (I guess now is as good a time as any to introduce the new character, so lets here it. If you don't have everything written up yet, fake it til you make it )

Hamrick looks at the fellow for a split second, inventoring his gear and demeanor to himself, just in case. He then answers outloud: "I didn't know there were any dangerous places left in this world for me to see after the War. Guess it's my lucky day..."

The Shifter looks with annoyance as a scraggly shifter lion bursts through the underbrush. "By Kyber's Bounds, Rawr you gave me a fright, come let us leave these ... adventurer's to their fate"

The pair leave walking slowly up the road.

After seemingly an eternity of walking, you arrive in Blackroot. Your clothes and armour are covered in a slight slime of mud from the dust and the humidity. The Air is warm and wet and insects buzz in clouds around you are you get closer to the sill water of the marches. The sun is begining to set when the settlement appeared.

Blackroot draws its name from the Darkwood trees that thrive in the region around it. Their tangled roots rising up from the soil and the muck on all sides. The ground here is relatively solid for the marches and the village sits atop a rocky rise. You can see marshland surrounds it on all sides making the road you came in on the only exit.

This village is home to a hundred families, and the dirt streets are well trodden. Orks, Humans, and half-breeds are the only races you see working either in small workshops or walking the streets,  obviously in from the swamp for whatever reason. None of them seem particularly pleased to see you.

Within moments , you are approached by a lean and muscular ork. His Skin is weathered, streaks of grey can be seen in his long black hair, and he carries himself with confidence. "Greetings" , he says in heavily accented common. "I am Toraash'Doorm. The Reeve of Blackroot. I don't know what brought you here , but we have no Inn , no tavern, and no time for strangers. I suggest you leave."

With that Toraash makes as if to leave and go back to whatever duties he was about before you came.

The sun is rapidly descending, sounds of night creatures can be heard.

"Please, wait a moment Reeve Doorm.  We've come to visit an old war friend here in Blackroot.  Do you know where we can find the family of Doria?"  Clash asks of the older orc.