S
((Starting in about 90 minutes if enough people can/want to come.))
Radley paces back and forth, stopping every once in awhile to look up into the sky or across at some random passer-by. He occasionally lures someone over long enough to listen to his plan.
"It's simple! Really! We go-and-get-as-much-shiny-and-glittery-brilliant-glowing-bright treasury garbage as we can, skins, meat, swords, armour, whatever! We - no, no, it's obviously -GOING- to be fine! Commerce with Gnolls! Then, we trade with them! Easy gold! Less danger than eating at the docks! We are going to be rich-wealthy-overburdened with gold-financially well off-economic juggernauts-the bourgeois! " A simple, marriage, my pack-and theirs- I just NEED A GOON OR TWO!" he shouts, almost without taking a breath.