Turning, running, jumping and biting in perfect union with the Catfolk, the black pantheress is all to eager to help the green woman who fondles her so kindly and having saved her brother so often already.
Seeing the cats rush towards Vuzi, Maglin continues to support Dalkk. He tosses a bomb over the head of the dwarf, excluding him from the radius of the blast.
With the established grace of a drunken monkey the dwarf side steps the slow attacks. With the last he jumps another 5ft away. While he speaks he pulls a vial of acid from his belt and infuses the loaded bolt, watching the wood absorb it. "Excuse me while I kill yer Uncle-Brother... Or is that yer Auntie-Sister... Wait.. My gods man did yer mum lay with a cow?"
Spend another Grit point for resolution vs touch AC
I don't normally do crits... Its just the same attack to confirm the hit and same damage for a x2 multiplier right?
"Ouch" she stabs at the troll with her spear again twice.
Marco indeed charges in with the catfolk, synchronized perfectly to jab at it's armpit while I.T was distracted with him
And again the party scores a kill!
And three more unsuccessful attacks later, it's the last troll's turn to feel the pain!
As the second giant goes down from the coordinated attacks, Simon hisses before turning to charge the last one.
"Frch!
Underestimated your 'prey', didn't you?!"
The bigger they are they harder they fall.
Or something like that.
Anyway, there was another one, wasn't there?
Ah yeah, over there by the stocky-one with the foul smelling socks.
My brother charges already.
Ehh, well, let's go.
Maybe we can take a nap after the last one is down?
Or even better: maybe brother has some fish left.
Wouldn't that be great?
Maglin reaches for another bomb, then sees the catfolk closing in on the final foe. He crosses his arms and waits for them to finish off the troll.
"hardly worth our time, but at least they won't hurt anyone else after this
Dalkk tosses a bomb. With his spare time he starts a fresh cigar.
Fire dmg, excluding party members
Vuzi moves up and stabs at it with her longspear.
The troll isn't quite taken out by the party, but the constant damage of acid in his veins takes him down seconds later.
Some days of travel later and a few dodged troll patrols later you finally arrive in the vicinity of the dwarven expedition. It's actually very easy to find. You just follow the troll corpses. Apparently this particular group of dwarves is particularly murdery vs the trolls in the area and they seem to have taken out a few small Troll Mounds in the area through sheer bloody minded determination. You finally catch up with them in a raised hill that the Trolls had made into a kind of burrow. You are following yet another trail of destroyed vegetation indicative of a fight when you are suddenly challenged by a patrol of dwarves! They yell a challenge in Dwarven,
+++ After the fight +++
"That was easier than my last encounter, you know.
I've developed the acid spell for Emily just because of that, you remember sister-purrurr?
And we were alone-meow.
Its so much easier with friends!"
The last sentence is accompanied with a broad grin and more purring.
After a long and satisfied glance over the party, he leans down, caressing the black feline with soft touches of slightly glowing hands.
"Should be better now, isnt't it-meowpurr"
As a reply, Emily rubs her head against his chest, toppling him over in a joyful 'struggle'.
+++ Dwarves? Dwarves! +++
"Hey Dalkk, look over there, those are your friends, aren't they-miii?
Is that how you're talking between each other, no-iii?"
Upon your return from town with a new beaker for Maglin, you find the elf waiting for you with a repaired waterskin. Wrapped around it is a small amulet of sparkling wood. It is obviously magical. "Simon," Maglin begins, holding out the gift, "earlier, underground, I was furious and terrified at the same time, and instead of directing that at myself I targeted you. For at least a moment I actually wanted to kill you," Maglin looks remorseful, afraid, and determined all at once, "and that's not something that a person should have directed at them. Much less a person as kindhearted and helpful as you." Maglin tries to smile, but he can't. "So I made you this, which will help to keep you alive the next time you might die. And I place myself in your service." Maglin bows low, looking at the ground for a moment, then straightens up.
Maglin makes a show of drawing out his dagger and dropping it on the ground. He turns to Dalkk and waits patiently.
The Catfolk is speechless for a moment, looking over the presented gift and the low bowing elf.
After three strained seconds, he takes the waterskin and the amulet, laying it to the ground carefully.
Then hugs the elf with a speed and force that threatens to throw both of them to the ground.
"Ahh, you're a good person as well, Magsi-purrurr!
Thank you. Thank you very much!
Of course I forgive you, everyone can be overwhelmed by their emotions from time to time-meow.
Especially in such a dark and evil place and in such a stressful situation-brrr."
He grabs the amulet, gently stroking its wooden surface with his paws.
"Its so beautiful-purrurr.
You can feel life flooding through it-meow!"
He quickly takes it on, knotting it carefully.
"It feels warm-purrurrr.
You're awesome, Magsi!"
As if in an afterthought he adds, this time with a much more serious voice.
"But no, I don't want you, or anyone else, to be at my service-frchh.
Emily is not in my service, she helps me because of her free will-meow.
I don't want servants or binding debts."
Quickly his voice is getting his usual, warm and friendly tone again.
"Especially not from a friend-purrur."
Those deep slurred syllables... Dalkk thinks immediately about his mother when he hears his natural tongue spoken by a true and proper dwarf, not just some fool who knows enough to get by.
He looks back at Maglin. What? Me? Oh s*&$e do they expect me to...
Dalkk sighs and concedes that on some level that makes sense. On a stupid level. How did Green put it? He's not good with people.
Dalkk stops after just a few words. Its been so long since he spoke Dwarf. There may be a knife turning twist of emotion deep inside him. He steps forward with L'nshpad, leaving him directly in front of Vuzi and Vance should they wish to conceal him.
Dalkk stops at Maglin and picks up the knife he dropped. He hands it back to him. In a tone that is clearly above normal speaking voice. "These be dwarves Magsy, an elf stands no chance, dagger or nae."
He continues to walk forward, slowly pulling a few bolts from the top of his crossbow rack. He holds them out, tossing them towards the dwarves feet.
A full squad of dwarves appear from the thick underbrush. Each is armed with either a stout crossbow or the signature Dorn-Dergar, a fist sized ball of solid iron on a thick, 10-ft chain.
The one who challenged you steps forward and examines the bolts. He tosses each back in turn and grunts.
The dwarves "escort" (herd) you into their encampment. It feels more like a mercenary operation than a business. You see at least two dozen dwarves in camp, but they seem to be mostly support specialists and administrators.
You are brought before a rotund dwarf who, in spite of being half again as wide as he is tall, exudes an air of command.
He growls something in dwarven.
Dalkk places the bolts back in their rack and march forward. This is the closest to home he's felt in decades. Hearing dwarven pace, everyone has a beard, not having to bend his neck to look secretsin the eye. He remains somber though, like a child stealing a cookie, these memories are laden with guilt.
Once presented to their commander he speaks.
Dalkk will present the ogre map they recovered before, offering it as a gift to the head Dwarf.
The leader takes the map and nods, but levels a wary eye at Dalkk.
Cain fidgets, standing next to his associates if they allow him to but when they ask for introductions he stands straight
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Dalkk nods. One could summise that what he is doing next is making introductions.
He points to Cain first.
Next he motions to Maglin.
He turns the other way and gestures to Vuzi.
He walks over to Simon and Emily with a smile. He claps his hand on Simon's shoulder and somberly whispers very quickly "If my journey ends here, take care of L'nshpad.". As he turns around he gives his oldest companion a caring look.
The dwarf leaves their company and walks to the head Dwarf. He stays a respectful distance. He takes a deep breath, feeling quite naked and alone. His hands are nowhere near his weapons. He closes his eyes a moment reflecting on his latest journey. When they open he boldy accepts his fate, whatever that may be. He earned it, and will not deny his consequences to anyone, particularly not a dwarf. What would the little honor he has left mean if he were not willing to keep his word.
or what it means ta be slagged from them. It is indeed very fine armor all the same."
Dalkk stands far from proud, but resolute that perhaps he can finally do right by Dwarven Law, even if this is where he may fall.
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Cain looks annoyed at their shorter companion
The rock, still wearing it's helmet does also perk up when mentioned
Cain continues from there, his voice taking a hard edge
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The change in the dwarf leader is instant and chilling. His face goes from cautiously welcoming to hard as granite in a blink. With a glance the squad moves into surrounding positions and the doors are sealed.
Windukslagdam. He spits phlegm at Dalkk's feet.
He pinches the bridge of his nose. The tension in the room is palpable, making every hair stand up on end.
Again the leader pauses. His squad looks to each other, but not enough to present an opportunity. Minutes pass.
Short legs buckle and knees hit the ground on either side of the spit soaked ground. He grabs the throwing axe on his side and holds it out handle first towards him. Though the beard prevents his neck from being truely exposed, his head does tilt to the side.
Dalkk strains his neck trying to look back at his companions, possibly for the last time. "And you lot will stay outta this. Any blow dealt to a dwarf here will be my responsibility. I will ne'er see another dwarf harmed in me name. If ye hae e'er had the inkling of respect for me, ye will respect that."
A trembling hand lowers, setting the axe down. He reaches in his jacket. One of his best cigars are brought to his lips. His hand is shaking so badly, he struggles to light it.
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Maglin returns Simon's hug. "A friend, yes, I suppose you are a friend. That's rather strange." He backs away carefully. "In any case, although I wanted to cut you into pieces and bury you under the ground, that feeling was the result of magical alterations to my state of mind, and nothing more." Maglin nods, taking his glass container.
"In a few moments, I'm going to unveil the ever so secret contents of my tent. Be prepared."
With that, Maglin turns and walks away.
"Dalkk, what about my behavior has ever indicated that I have even a single iota of respect for anything related to you?" Maglin clearly isn't serious, but his words aren't particularly jovial either.
"Could you bring me one of those cigars? I've always wondered how they taste." This time, he's deadly serious.
Dalkk looks to the so far unnamed commander. He motions with another cigar towards the elf, seemingly asking for permission to hand it to him.
Dalkk will slowly rise. He walks to Maglin and hands him a cigar. He gives a wry laugh. "Ye be careful Magsy... This isn't the same as bomb smoke my fri-" He stops himself short, not wanting to give way to the dwarves that he may care about his compatriots. To further that he'll stand apart from Maglin, waiting once more for his apparent judgement.
Puffing at it gently, Maglin's face shows abrupt revulsion, which he quickly hides rather poorly. "It's...good." He coughs a few times, taking another puff before he's fully caught his breath, which causes his face to turn almost green. "Good, yes...eye wateringly good."
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Vuzi looks confused at all the dwarven. She has no idea what is going on, but it's clear Dalkk is about to be hurt.
She starts to talk quickly,"Vat is going on here please? Dis man is my friend, and a gut man. I do not understand why you are treating him dis way. He has been nothing but honorable in our dealings, and careful ov my safety." She makes to move up next to Dalkk and glare at the commander showing a tusk.
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Simon looks around utterly confused.
"Didn't we ... Ehm ... Come to sell some armor to them, because they would like them-miii?"
Carefully he opens the band holding the protecting sheets of leather over the armor parts stripped to Dulkks lizard.
"See, that's what we brought with us, good dwarven work-meow."
Scratching behind the ears he looks at the situation again, leaning his head to the aide, then asking Maglin with a bewildered expression.
"Or... Magsi, you know everything...
Is this some cool dwarven ceremony of welcoming-miii?
Shall we present them our weapons as well and bow before the big-dwarf-meowi?"
The dwarf watches the proceedings with the same granite stare. Just as it's about to get awkward, he motions and the dwarven patrol leaves the room. It speaks volumes about their confidence in him to leave him alone with you. He proceeds in common.
Dalkk Windukslagdam. Make no mistake I have half a mind to kill you where you stand. However, circumstances have forced me into an awkward position. We are a mining expedition. We came with guards, but we have been hard pressed by the locals and our supplies are running as low as our morale. I dare not execute another dwarf, even if you are a dirty exile. He spits in Dalkk's general direction again and takes a long draw from a flask you didn't notice him produce.
We have located a Troll mound, the mother of all mounds, in the Dragonfen Marshes south west of here. Clear this threat, and I might be able to let you live and it'll take the pressure off my resources. A win-win.
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Vuzi's eyes get wide. "An exile?" She switches to orcish.
Then she smacks Dalkk on the back of the head hard.
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EXECUTE?!
What in the name of Emily's last fur ball does he mean?
He wanted to KILL Dalkk?
Had a few too many rocks crashed upon his head eh?
Simon replies quickly before anyone else might say something ... stupid.
"We can do that-meow!
Dalkk, let's... Let's go, yes-miii?"
The catling really obviously wants to go at this point.
He probably would have agreed to stay down in Rappan Attuk for a year at this point. He even starts to lean against Dalkks mount, trying it to move out of the tent.
Better fighting for your lives than standing in the middle of a camp of dwarves talking in foreign tongues, threatening to kill your friend (who doesn't even struggle back!) for no reason whatsoever.
Dalkk winces and his hand deftly moves to the back of his head, rubbing after a grunt of distress from green smack. He takes careful note of whether or not the larger dwarf seems to understand. If it seems that he did not he'll reply now.
He returns his attention to the commander. "I assure ye Sir it be as good as clear e'en if I have ta do it alond. Do ye have any more information aboot it? And in who's name are we destroying these wretched foul creatures? Who shall they have nightmares about?" Dalkk speaks quickly in excitement. He was just given a task by another Dwarf. This was never to happen for the rest of his life. Regardless of circumstance, he's amongst dwarves, in a dwarven tent, being sent to kill dwarven enemies, to protect dwarven lives. Moments earlier he figured his life was soon to end, and it is still the best day he's had this decade.
The dwarf leader clearly follows Vuzi's tirade.
Before things can get too cheery the leader gets up, not struggling to do so, and stalks up to Dalkk to the point where their bulbous noses are mere inches apart.
Make no mistake, Windukslagdam, you should count each and every one of your lucky stars tonight that I'm not even one inch more of a traditionalist. You are a disgrace. The only way I can justify this decision is that you'll probably end up dead anyway. Lucky for you, I'm a business man first and I need someone to go take care of this problem. Even if you do succeed, and that is a HUGE if, I may still execute you. And, if you somehow manage to swing my opinion around to sparing you, you will still have less honor than a beardless youth. Speaking of..
In a single fluid motion the leader dwarf takes the entirety of Dalkk's beard into his large hand, pulls it tight, and slices it off to the chin! He even takes a layer of skin, leaving an angry red shaving rash in his wake. In his hand is a shining, clearly magical short sword that you, again, didn't see him produce. Dalkk's former facial hair hangs limp like a murdered pet in the other hand.
And you can call me Master Rubyfist
Dalkk's left hand claps down on exposed raw flesh. There isn't much he had that proved he was still Dwarf, and now there is even less. He jolts his right hand out to motion to anyone who may jump to his defense that he does not want any interferance.
There is a long pause as Dalkk looks down. Slowly his left hand drops from his jaw, And to his side. He presses his thumb discreet as he is able into the tip of the other throwing axe, using the pain to try to stifle his emotions. Blood begins to trickle.
The shakiest voice breaks the silence. "There be no mistake... Am I dismissed... Master Rubyfist?" His eyes finally rise when he speaks. They are strained with tears, and cheeks red with anger and shame. They match what will surely be a new scar where his beard once stayed.
There is very little keeping the slagged exile from breaking.
Master Rubyfist nods.
Dalkk turns to face hspoileranions. He suddenly longs for being petrified and surrounded by ghouls instead. He walks forward to the door they came through. One hand falls to the harness over the giant lizard. He stops at the opening, knowing that the walk out of the camp will be much harsher than the one in. "Thank ye, Master Rubyfist.”
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Vuzi grabs Dalkk by the shoulder before he can move away. Her hand becomes skeletel up to the elbow once again as her healing energy washes through him. The red mark on his chin healing. She nods in satisfaction.
"Now before we leaf. Tell us more about the trolls. Vich direction, how many and such. Ve vill not fail dis task." Vuzi glares down at the shorter dwarf.
If this is what passes for honorable among dwarves, I think I'll stick with orcs. At least they kill you outright when you are disgraced. Dallk will not be coming back to these dwarves ever.
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Maglin continues coughing at the cigar until it becomes plain that his efforts to distract Dalkk are in vain. He extinguishes it very carefully and watches in silence, hands limp at his sides.
In ages past, a great warrior of light and purity entered the dungeon. Unlike us, he was exceptionally skilled in the dispatch of all manner of foes, with a coat of steel on his back and a stick of pain in his hands. Able to heal his wounds effortlessly and invoke the gods with a few words of power, he must have been nearly unstopable. Esspecially when fighting the evil and undead foes such as we have encountered, who would fall on their faces and cower before him. Unlike us, he knew what it is like to fight those that dwell in the dark.
Today, he nearly killed us.
Over the long, slow years he must have suffered cruelly at the hands of beings far greater than himself. In the endless torturing and terrible horrors he endured, he must have slowly begun to change. The flesh had fallen from his bones, and his empty eye sockets burned with the fires of hell. Atop his head sat a black and baleful crown, and terror gripped us even before he began to speak in that awful, freezing voice. Vuzi, whose specialty is the domain of the dead, flew before him. I can only imagine what horrible revelations she felt at the knowledge that he is of the same essential craft as her own creatures. For myself, I held out as long as I could, but when it came time to draw upon my innermost wells of power, I felt my mind gripped and twisted as if by hands of steel. All the fear and anger and self-loathing I have buried inside of me came pouring out, and I was powerless to stop myself from fleeing.
I hope Simon can forgive me. I wanted to carve him into pieces and feed them to the wild dogs, though in truth I cannot say that was anything more than the ill influence of one mightier than myself. Still, I felt true hatred for the first time in a long time, and it continues to smolder within me. I know what it is to hate someone, to want to murder someone in cold blood, and none of my friends deserve that.
My friends indeed.
Yet how can my friends and I hope to survive this deep dolven dungeon, when so many others before us have failed? Only through luck and the grace of the gods, it seems.
Dalkk clearly steels himself before stepping out of the tent. His internal struggle is plain to see, but his determination to do right in the struggle is equally obvious. He expects something awful to happen as you exit the camp, but the awful never comes. The dwarves all stare, yes. They whisper, yes. But they do not jeer or throw things or call out. They all seem... subdued. The camp falls silent as more and more dwarves stop their work to come and see what's going on.
Only now, after having been in the presence of Rubyfist's corpulent presence, do you notice that everyone here is a bit on the thin side and tired.
Rubyfist regards Vuzi with a dismissive air. On the river east of the road. Dozens of them have made a crude den of sorts led by a priestess of some fashion. That's all we've been able to gather.
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+++ Un-bearding +++
Half-turned, trying to get everyone out quickly, Simon only get a half-glimpse at the fast movement of the dwarf chief, turning in time to see the once-beard dangling from his grip, droplets of blood falling.
A long and dangerous hiss escapes him and he takes a step forward only halted by Dalkks gesture.
Glaring dangerously at the fat dwarf, he is about to help Dalkk with a heal, but Vuzi is faster than him.
If someone looks Simon over, you'll see something new and disturbing.
Cold burning hate in the face you are now well used to feature a soft, joyful expression. His fists are tightly pressed and shaking and a low growling escapes between clenched teeth.
He's still glaring as Dalkk finally turns and makes himself ready to go.
As the struggling dwarf passes the Catfolk, he feels his hand getting pressed for the tiniest of moments by a soft paw.
+++ March of silence +++
Simon, still glaring and growling, walks just behind Dalkk, sending dagger-glances at the silent dwarves watching their departure.
He can't but notice their condition though, studying them careful while passing by. Maybe they are ill? Or simply starving?
+++ once out of earshot & view +++
"What the hell was that-frchhh!
If that's how dwarves are normally ...
Then they need to get more Dalkk!
That was horrible-frchh.
I think ... I was never that angry before-grrrrr.
And Dalkk: It's true what Vuzi said-meowor!
If you'd told us, we never would've come, selling the stuff to the towners!
Or even throw it away-frch!"
Simon took last watch the night before.
As you all get up, you'll immediately notice that Simon has shaven a about hand sized area around and below his chin.
The skin below is of a weak pink, nearly white and in stark contrast to the thick, fluffy fur covering his entire body.
A heavy worked hand full of stubby fingers land atop a green mangled one. Dalkk looks to Vuzi. Behind his pain his eyes scream thanks. His mouth opens, but there are no words.
Dalkk can't help but spare a few passing glances. He straightens his gaze and continues out the camp, waiting for what never comes. He remains silent and resolute until a furious feline decides to interfere with a perfectly good awkward silence. He stops walking.
"I had hoped to stay back with Vance once we entered dwarven claim. They found us before I realized it. Ye dinnae understan' Simon."
Dalkk's fury finally let's out. He turns and raises his voice. The dwarf's tone is harsh as he paces, glaring back and forth at each of them. His rage is clearly not directed at any of them, just a by-product of their latest encounter.
"I'm bloody slagged! I killed me own kin because I was a fool! I am exiled for a reason blast it." He points back towards the camp. "Tha'? That was a bloody miracle! What would ye give Simon? What would any of ye give for one more day? Whoever you've loved most and lost, whoever you dream of loving, ye get one day, just one... More than any of us deserve... More than I deserve... ... If ye were given just one more day but it had to be the worst day, wouldn't ye take it? Wouldn't ye!?" Dalkk's speech pauses. His palm raises and rubs away a forming tear.
"Would you take the worst day with what you love most? Would ye offer yer life? Would ye bleed without a fight? Would ye be humiliated and exposed and weak in front of those around you for one more day with yer family?... .... .... I was lower than low... But still... He treated me like a dwarf. Its been near 20 years since that privledge was afforded me by another dwarf who knew better. I should be so lucky. E'en now I hope that if I am killed on my return that my body may lay within the same grave as my brethren. That'd be a greater reward than anything I should hope for."
Dalkk returns to L'nshpad. He unties and reties each knot and strap several times over. Its clear his mind has the better of him. A fist falls on the harness in frustration. He continues without looking up.
"I have a job to do. We agreed to travel together through Rapan Athuk. This task is outside the scope of that agreement. I cannae afford any of ye, and the only spoils troll-kin likely have to offer are from weaker fools than I who failed against them. Should any of ye be fool enough to come with me it be much appreciated, howe'er there will be no expectation of any of you lot risking life and limb for a fight that isn't yers. If ye be needing another dwarf there be plenty aboot looking for work. Should ye do the smart thing and return to the reason ye all came here, I hope to find you safe on my possible return.”
Dalkk's tone is a clearly thinly veiled defense, but he does not wish to burden anyone more than he already has.
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"dalkk, understand that this is because you're an idiot" he says before punching him in the face. "of course we're going with you"
Anyone want to accompany this night, shaving the fatty and distribute his secret food to his men...?