The caveman stands stock still a moment, while long-disused neurons struggle to connect, then grunts and comes back into motion. He pulls the hand out of his nether region and unconsciously flicks away a blot of dislodged smeg as he takes a loping stride forward, reaching out with the same smelly hand. "Gimme dat!" he snorts (in a little know dialect of Cave-Ee), snatching the whistle from Boggs . He holds it close to his face, sniffing, shaking, listening, and nibbling it to ascertain its use or edibility. "Shiny," he eventually agrees with disappointment, and unceremoniously drops it upon the floor as he stride over to grab the roast fowl from Morin. One sniff, then he stuffs half the bird into his gob and proceeds to deconstruct it in a manner most unbecoming...
Reaction check 2d6=5 (negative!) but adjusted +1 for the interesting looking whistle, and +1 for the food, makes 7 (uncertain...)
the Elf Medium (MV 12", AC 9, HD 1, hp 1/1, AL N) great cloak, lantern
; spells: color spray; scrolls: sleep, sleep, charm person
Hirelings: Georges; torch