As Corwin backs up furiously, he bumps into one of the chanting witches. He turns to her, both of them knocked off-balance. Mrianne takes the moment's distraction to dart behind the Captain of the Guard and place the dagger behind one of his ears. He barely has time to register the threat and start to twirl back to her when she cuts his throat from ear to ear. The skin curls back as the acid on her blade blisters his skin, dripping inside his throat as much as on his chest. She shouts triumphantly as Corwin collapses, "Gyronna, take this sacrifice from your loyal servant Malgorzata!"
Corwin reaches up at his ruined throat, trying to say something in his final moments. Mrianne, or Malgorzata, simply cut too deeply and too ruthlessly. He tries to reach his glaive, lying uselessly on the ground, or his longsword on his belt, but the strength has left him. Even his rage has left him. All Corwin has left in his final moments is the knowledge that his fight is finally over. As he shudders one last time and remains still, a look of peace crosses his bloodied face.
Tandlara grits her teeth as Jemini's fall replays in her mind. Again, she was unable to save a friend from the cold clutch of death. She feels a dark whisper in the back of her mind, a familiar presence from that day. She is quiet for a moment, as if listening, then quietly says, "I accept." She points at Malgorzata and screams a horrific cry borne of the pain of loss.
She points at Malgorzata with a bony finger and unleashes a black ray of negative energy. Unlike the witches and their rays that weaken their prey, this energy is pure in its negative aura. It has a palpable, tangible feel of hate and malice to it, darker than anything that even the hag, Malgorzata, or their coven is capable of. As the ray strikes her, she seems to wither into a shell of her former self. Her hair disappears and her skin turns gray and ashen. Her eyes become sunken and gray. In truth, she does not even appear human at all. Tandlara's dark magic has revealed Malgorzata's true form - a shapeshifting doppelganger.
As the hag and the two witches finish their chant, Akiros's blade cuts into her deeply. She tries to maintain the chant, but loses it in the pain. Whatever dark spell she and her coven were casting is lost in the mind of their dark goddess.
The hag slashes out twice with her sharp claws, rending into his flesh as easily as if they were daggers. As much as his strength threatens to sap away with his blood, he maintains control with gritted teeth and prepares to follow up with another deadly stroke of his sword.
The morning sun brings rejuvenation to the Banker of Abadar, more than he expected after such a long, arduous and dangerous day. Perhaps it is the fact that he did not have to pronounce final judgment and execute the lizardmen after all, though he was fully resigned to it. Just as he was to force a consensus on the matter and proceed with executions, Master Narthropple assured them that his people could take the lizardmen as well as the kobolds up to Sanctuary, and seemed to have no issue with it. It allowed for everyone to set watches and get some well-deserved rest underway, even if it only postponed the matter for their eventual return to town. Well at least it is in my proper jurisdiction to properly preside over instead of out here, but is there even protocol for a trial for such savages? Well chances are I'm going to have to call the golden bolt over something foul out here anyway, so keep it handy...
As they approach the Tuskwater, Verik puts away his map, now marked with a few new hasty scribbles of location gleaned from Zander and his examination of Narthropple's extensive work. He breathes a slight sigh of relief as he looks to his right, envisioning Sanctuary at the northern end of the Tuskwater, though of course he cannot see it. He hears their Sootscale guide call out the various locations and dangers, and then furrows his brow as he examines their options. "I don't know Zander, your man Gregary could still be anywhere out here unless you know something else to add. To me it sounds like lots of things would work against him in these parts."
With a true name that is not easily pronounceable, Verik has taken on calling the kobold guide "Jabber" as he has gone on at some length about his usefulness to the rest of them. "Jabber, did you and the Sootscales live with the lizardfolk, or with this troll chieftain and his lot? Did you ever come across a lone human man recently out here, or heard of one being captured and taken by your masters?"
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Berrin woke up rested after the night, stretching and yawning in the rays of the new sun he rubbed his eyes and rolled his shoulders, still in awe of Verik's healing powers. Getting dressed and donning his gear Berrin strolled over to Valnyr, stroking the beast and saddling him up Berrin reflected on the past evenings events. Jemini's reckless charge, and his own subsequent one. Valnyr's fall, his companions rush to his aid.
What could he have done differently? Should he have held back? No. Jemini was clearly exposed, she would have been swarmed if he hadn't drawn the attention of so many. Should he have moved down the flanks instead of the center, set up his own charge toward the leader? No. There was no way he could have known he was such a danger.
Images of the giant lizards snapping jaws come to his mind along with a rush of excitement to his head as he re-lives the desperate situation of facing the lizardfolk leader. Should he have kept hold of his shield? Maybe. The shield gives a clear tactical advantage in defense, maybe he could have avoided the lizardman's trident if he had hung onto it but then again the greatsword was clearly a more devastating weapon than the longsword. Maybe he should pick up a hand-and-a-half sword like Akiros? Keep the shield but still wield a heavier blade?
Glancing over a Nikolai he ponders the former Stag Lord's fighting style, he was capable of so much destruction, cutting huge swathes with his heavy blade. Cuts fueled by his rage with no regard to protection. A simple tactic; deal more damage than the enemy and hope you're still standing when the fights over. Did Berrin realy want to emulate the Stag Lord's fighting style? No. Not really. Berrin knew he couldn't call forth a rage like Nikolai could, he would never be as effective in dealing massive amounts of damage as he was, the thought of losing control actually frightened Berrin to no end.
Images of a swollen boys face swim to Berrin's mind, the kids tongue already starting to swell in his throat as Berrin's hands crush his windpipe. Shaking himself he pushes the image out of his mind and focuses back on Nikolai.
'Maybe I should leave the decimation to him? Focus on defending the party and let him rush in? I could follow in his wake, protect his flank... Maybe I should brooch the subject with him?' Berrin ponders the possibility for a moment but shakes his head and turns back to Valnyr, dismissing the notion of having a discussion on tactics with the barbaric king. Berrin could already see the savages sneer at his questions, he would probably go as far as calling Berrin a coward and that would have repercussions. Better keep the peace and avoid him altogether.
Who then? Verik? No. It could take ages for him to come to any conclusions, let alone act on them. Taisper? Perhaps. The boy was nothing if not a tactical fighter even if he was touched. Jemini? No, Berrin feared she'd just tell him to make up his own mind in a sugared manner. She had a way with words that that could convince just about anyone of anything and leave him confused, wondering when he changed his mind. Zander? Yes, Zander. He was a fighter like Berrin, he'd understand Berrin's hesitation without mistaking it for cowardice. Berrin resolved to have a talk with the archer before the day was through.
Berrin sits atop Valnyr as the gnomish procession heads out, waving at those who meet his eye and smiling at the sheer strangeness of them all, gnomes were something Berrin was sure he'd never understand. Wishing Narthropple a safe journey he instructs him to seek out Oleg or Kesten at his arrival. Thinking of the looks on their respective faces at the gnomes arrival puts a wide grin on Berrin's face, he would actually have paid gold to be there to witness their dealings.
With the gnomes safely off Berrin heads off with the group, staying up near the front to keep an eye on their guide. Bow and curtsy all he might Berrin still didn't like the kobolt. He was just to keen to accept his place as a slave to start off but also Berrin got the feeling that all he did he did to protect his own scaly hide. The creature would probably cower or bolt at the first sign of danger. That and the ease in which his loyalties shifted made Berrin deeply uneasy.
Reigning in as the guide describes the option open to them Berrin ponders the scenery and what he knows of the lands from the maps he'd seen.
"Who's Crazy-man?" he asks Jabber. "And how far to the lizandmen's camp?"
"I think our first course of action should be to deal with the lizards. A minor threat compared to trolls but I don't like the idea of them banding together against us. If we deprive the trolls of lizardfolk aid our struggles should be that much easier." he says to the group.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
The newly-named Jabber seems excited to have his own name. It seems that in kobold society, only leaders and heroes get names beyond their tribe's name. Inadvertently, Verik has given him a great honor. He puffs up his tiny chest in pride each time they address him with a name. "Sootscales live alone in swamp! Sootscales no live with troll masters or lizardmans. Trolls send talk-balloons to us village, tell us what do. Sootscales move village lots. Probably gone now, but last was on shore that way." He points to the south, along the coastline.
"Crazy-man is man who crazy." Jabber answers Berrin's question with what the Steward could swear is sarcasm. "He has cat, big cat. Scares Jabber with crazy talk."
Jabber seems to have no real way of answering Berrin's second question, as he does not understand the concept of distance. He struggles for a few moments before trying. "Lizardmans are in swamp, not long walk. One sun-moon dance."
Zander spends the morning helping the gnomes get their caravan back under way. He is there to send off Narthropple with a heary handshake and another thanks for his maps.
At Verik's mention of his missing warden, Zander ponders the sad irony that they now trail a kobold instead of one of his men. "I keep an eye out for any signs he may have left to mark his passage, that is all I can do at this point, until we find him, or sadly, his remains."
Upon listening to the talk centered on thier Kobold guide, "And what Jabber, is Howl? A man, a beast? Facing this Howl could be the most direct way to settling the Troll problem, but I agree, clearing the way through the troll allies has merit....but WHAT is a talk-balloon?"
Zander's questions seem to confuse Jabber, who is largely incapable of complex explanations. He searches for words until he comes up with an explanation that he believes they will understand. "Howl is talking wolf, leader of Howl tribe. Howl eat Sootscales who enter lands. Howl not slave of trolls." The talk-balloons are even more difficult for him to describe. "Talk-balloon is ball of light, gives order to Chief Sootscale from troll master. Very scary! Eats souls!"
"A talking ball of light?" Berrin echoes Jabber, his brow furrowing.
"Sounds like will-o´-wisps. Evil aberations tha´ feed on fear. They lure folk into swamps at night with their light an´ then cruelly stalk ´em before killing ´em." Berrin muses at Jabber's descriptions. "Do the balls of light fly Jabber? An´ can they become invisible?" he asks to confirm his suspicions.
Jabber nods furiously, almost jumping up and down with the force of his agreement. "Talk-balloons come out of nowhere, there, then gone again! Pop up and scare Sootscales looking like head-bones! Do not like talk-light-balloons. Do not like at all!" He starts looking around in all directions, nearly toppling from the pony, as if he believes that the mere utterance about them will summon them.
"" Jemini wakes up, startling those already up, and definitely waking anybody still at rest. Her face is covered in sweat. Her eyes wide framed with a look of shock and apprehension. One of the nearby gnomes hurries towards her, inquiring after her well-being - she nods a bit dumbfounded, her senses reeling and only slowly finding their way back to camp.
"I'm... I'm okay. Sorry. Just a bad dream."
A bit unsteadily she gets to her feet and turns to the rising dawn. Sarenrae, be praised, your dawn hunts down the shadows in my thoughts. That dream... Tandlara was embracing a darkness. So sinister. Sarenrae please let it be but a nightmare.
"Wisps you say?" Jemini thinks hard to her teachings. "What would cause them to appear, and for that matter follow orders from trolls?" She looks towards where Jabber had pointed out the haunted tower. "And a haunted tower? Does anybody know where the tower came from in the first place? I don't recall hearing of any settling mission this far into the Stolen Lands."
Berrin nods sagely with his arms crossed over the pommel of the saddle as Jabber confirms his suspicion, a smug smile on his face. "Yup. I read about those. Feeding on fear they like ta' scare folk before killing them. I don't think they can feed of a dead guy, just a scared one."
Catching the others looking at him with surprise Berrin seems genuinely offended for some reason. "What!? Yes! I read!" he declares and adds; "Somtimes." in a barely audible voice directed at his chest.
"Did you happen to get to the part on how to kill one?.....maybe there was a picture?" Zander asks with a small chuckle following Berrin's admission. But the look in his eye is serious, like he does not enjoy the idea of tangling with such strange foes.
"Umm.. Well, let's see." says Berrin, his eyes looking up as he tries to picture said book in his minds eye. "They are incredibly fast. So fast and small that they are nearly impossible to hit. It would be slightly easier to grab 'em and hold 'em but then you'd get electrocuted for touching them." Berrin recites as best he can remember.
A pained expression comes over Berrin's face as he realized that's not really helpful and he looks at his saddle in shame. "The pictures varied. Some look like somethin', skulls an' stuff, but others are just balls o' light so they'r not that helpfull. Nets perhaps?" he suggests weekly looking at Zander hopefully. "That way we don't have to touch them.."
Verik shakes his head and looks skyward for guidance. "A corpse candle right out of a children's tale. Why should I be surprised I wonder, after what we saw around the mountain vales last year?"
He clicks with his teeth and motions Virtue to move forward a bit nearer to Berrin and Zander. "Well Jemini is right about the connection to the trolls. I suppose I could see trolls taking slaves as opposed to eating them, but when have they ever sent messages in the form of enchanted beasts to coordinate attacks? That seems beyond mere cunning, too grand and intelligent I'd say...like you reading for example."
Verik waits a moment to see if Berrin picks up on it, then adds nonchalantly, "Actually it's not you reading a book which surprises me, merely that it had to do with something other than drinking, whoring or placing wagers on Aldori dueling matches for sport."
Nikolai strides through the camp, his gear packed on his massive shoulders. He swings a heavy hand down and claps Berrin mightily on the back. Why would you read a book on drinking? Why not just drink?
There's an awkward second while everyone decides how to respond to his joke. Nikolai grimaces and his brow lowers. I say kill the lizardmen. They are less dangerous than trolls and wisps, and if we catch them, we may prevent them from sending word to their troll masters. Whatever information we find in their camp will help us know how to proceed.
He looks across everyone and centers his gaze on Jemini. It seems clear he is still perplexed by the talk of freeing the captives yesterday.
My blade still thirsts for the blood of savages. If they would attack merchants and travellers, let the travelers also attack them.
Jemini grimaces a little at the bloodlust, but agrees with the course of action, "I don't think it matters overly which course we take - ultimately we'll want to face all opposition. Starting with the lizardfolk is as good a way to go as any."
With Jabber leading the way on his pony (which he named Jabberpony in a fit of originality), the group crosses the small river that separates Lake Candlemere to the south and the Tuskwater Lake to the north. The clear waters of the Tuskwater glitter in the late morning sun, while the waters of the Candlemere seem somewhat subdued. The peninsula formed by the lakes and river would be a fine spot for a small settlement that could guard the link between the lakes. With Sanctuary near the mouths of both the Shrike and Skunk Rivers, only the Gudrin River to the east would be left undefended. Once trading on the rivers starts to pick up, pirates will surely arrive from the other River Kingdoms. With the lake secure, they could utilize it as a secure port for its traders. If the rumors about the haunted island in Candlemere Lake turn out to be unfounded, it could be an addition useful place to secure the twin lakes.
The terrain across the river could not be more different from the rolling plains east and north of the the lakes. The land is wet and forested - not enough to truly be called swamp or marsh, but far less pleasant than the grassy plains. The ground makes sucking sounds as the horses tentatively make their way over the moist soil. A thick canopy darkens the area into an eerie twilight. Jabber seems utterly at home in the wet forest, though his comfort does not translate into the group being able to move at anywhere near the same speed as before. The birds and wildlife seem subdued as well. Occasionally, they see deer (one of which Zander takes down for a lunchtime meal), and they constantly hear the trilling and humming of birds and insects. It gives them the strange feeling of being watched relative to the wide-open plains.
A few hours into the wetlands, as they take the difficult path south parallel to the shoreline of the Candlemere Lake, they come across a huge oak tree. Its massive branches loom over the area, visible even through the thick undergrowth and canopy that they have to make their way through. Jabber points to the tree with his scaly hand. "That where crazy man live. Cat too." He looks over to Berrin with a strange look of consternation. "No forget, he crazy, not just man."
Berrin looks a bit stunned at Nikolai's slap on the back, blinking a couple of times, trying to form words he manages a weak 'errm..' before looking to the others for help. Berrin knew his social skills weren't the envy of the group but he still felt completely at a loss in regards to Nickolai.
With the group decided on a course of action Berrin in pleased they went along with his suggestions though he notes that no-one seemed to pick up on his suggestion regarding making nets for fighting the will-o'-wisps. Taking the task upon himself he pulls out his rope and a dagger and sets to hacking it apart in the saddle with a look of great concentration on his face.
Looking up from his work at Jabber's indication of having arrived at Crazy-man's residence Berrin discards the now-ruined rope with a sneer. 'Maybe if I had more time, I'm sure I could figure it out.' he thinks sourly as he regards the ruined thing.
Sparing Jabber an annoyed look Berrin spurs Valnyr in the trees direction. "Let's see if he's keen on a conversation." he mutters. "Talk first. Shoot second, ok?" he quibs at Jabber though he shoots Nikolai a glance with the comment.
Coming closer to the tree Berrin puts a hand to his mouth to aplify his voice and hollars.
Nikolai briefly rolls his eyes. I didn't make my way across the River Kingdoms killing in a whim. It's a different thing to be good at battle than to be stupid.
He nods in the direction of the tree. Yelling out to an unknown man who lives in a swamp with at least one dangerous pet. Now that's stupid, see?
Nikolai dismounts and treads lightly toward the oak tree, circling it to get a look around and behind. He is careful to look up and determine how the tree is suited as a home.
Zander has his bow ready but not nocked. "This wouldn't be the first crazy person..or creature we came across out here."[b] as he holds up one, two, then three fingers. [b]"Getting them talking is often better than the quite possible fighting. Being crazy isn't the problem, its what they do with it? Some brew beer, others....well...others get dealt with. But there is still the issue that he is crazy by admission of a kobold...no offense to out guide."
Keffle's voice remains cautiously low. Talking is fine, Warden. Yelling into a swamp is more likely to bring us a fight than anything else. If you want to be cautious, be cautious. If you want to go in and sort the crazy man out, than go in. Yelling at the tree just tells the swamp where we are.
"If I may suggest, but none of you really are the most adept at parlay or friendly introductions. Perhaps Jemini would be better suited? I would volunteer myself, but if he is a worshiper of Gozreh he may find my presence disconcerting, ridiculous as that may be." Verik wrinkles his nose and attempts to shake out the moisture from his damp shirt near the breastplate. "As if anyone would want to build a town down in this filthy mess..."
Jemini dismounts, "I agree with Verik that a bit more tact might be in order, though I think he should join me. Holding back on the off-chance that a follower of Gozreh may take offense is a gamble I think we can cope with." She looks into the thick of the tree. "Come Verik, I rather have you with me when we meet him. No offense Nikolai and Berrin, but you guys may be a bit... intimidating for the average guy."
"We're here in peace! Anybody home?" she inquires as she makes towards where she thinks one can enter.
At first, they hear simply the rustling of the wind in the trees and the soft rippling of a nearby creek. Nikolai's sharp eyes, which have been coming back to him since his recovery, notice that the great oak is naturally hollowed, though alive and even thriving. As they approach the tree, though, the sounds grow louder and more powerful. A great wind gusts towards them with enough force that all but Berrin and Nikolai have to take a step back. "Come no further!" A man appears inside the tree, stepping out of the bark itself. One hand carries a gnarled piece of wood from the tree, while the other wards them off while controlling the wind. His skin changes from wood to a green tint. From his skin, oversized jaw, and prominent brow, the man is clearly of orcish heritage, but he has human traits as well. His thick beard and long hair, gray in color, whip wildly in the wind. "You are not in balance, and you are not welcome here! Come no further!"
Jemini halts in her tracks, holding her hands open in towards the man in a peaceful gesture, "Allow me to apologize for intruding then. We will depart immediately if that is what you wish." She takes a step back with those words, to emphasize the point. "I am Jemini, of Lebeda, and with me are varied but valiant companions."
The druid raps his gnarled staff on the tree, causing a rich knocking sound to reverberate through the woods. The wind dies down, though it still flows swiftly enough to remind them of the druid's power and ability to hasten its return. "It is fine to see you, though I fear you are the harbingers of a tide of civilization intent on the exploitation of the lands here. The woods to the north cry out at night, mourning the loss if the forests near the new city that has tilted the balance. It's been many years since the last time anyone came here telling me that they come in peace. I can only presume you are of this new city."
Yes yes, let us bring the Abadarian to meet the druid, heralding the destruction of his swamp. This should be grand. At the druid's mention of the perils of civilization and the encroachment of the city, Verik steps forward to stand equal with Jemini. "We are indeed from...Sanctuary...as we know it by. I am Verik Jarrow, servant of the Master of the First Vault, and I would make it clear to you that we have no intentions or designs upon your..." stinking festering bug-ridden swamp "...wildlands on this side of the lake. Though your patron and mine may be at odds at times, we do come to you in peace, seeking knowledge of an enemy that may...that you may agree is upsetting the balance in these lands. We have evidence of trolls attacking with dark design, bringing other creatures into their fold when they may otherwise be benign, and consorting with unnatural creatures to spread fear and chaos."
Nikolai muses at the craft necessary to shape the tree as it is. however, the appearance of the druid does not move him.
We understand the desire to be left alone, orc-man. You should know, we are in your swamp to hunt trolls and stop lizards from attacking peaceful merchants. Can you give your word you won't interfere?
Verik has a halfway smile upon his face that does not reach his eyes, which are momentarily rounded and unblinking with shock. "Ahh...yes well what my hulking compatriot here says is true about the lizardmen, as we have evidence that the chieftain of this band of troublesome trolls may have spurred them to raiding out in the grasslands. For what reasons we do not know. It may not be in your...ahh...purview to protect those coming to our city for trade, but we would seek information to end this alliance between them so that no more blood is needlessly shed."
Few can understand more so than a soldier how time is absolutely relative. For every warrior who has trod the field of battle has experienced the phenomenon of time slowing to a crawl, or even standing completely still. In the hectic heat of this ferocious battle, with so many things happening in an instant's time, Akiros experiences such a moment now, as time slows and finally stops, freezing all about him in a horrible, nightmare montage.
As if forced to watch the a wicked play of a twisted god of theatre, Akiros witnesses clearly as Mrianne, or Malgorzata, as she dubs herself, steps forward and brutally ends the life of his friend, Corwin. In the last instant of his life, Corwin's eyes lock with the General's and he smiles at his comrade in arms, as if telling him not to worry, that he accepts his fate peacefully, perhaps even gratefully. A moment later, the brave warrior and Captain of the Guard is no more.
At almost the same time, Akiros then continues to watch in horrified awe as the Elf witch Tandlara appears to accept some dark and evil pact with her god allowing her to unleash a spell of staggering power and horrifying evil. In stunned amazement Akiros can hardly believe his eyes as he sees the founder's twisted spell suck the very life out of the traitoress, revealing her, or it, to be a doppelgänger.
His distraction costs him though, for in the very next moment he is spun around to face the hag again as her razor sharp talons rip painfully through his flesh. Then, like a pellet shooting through a blowgun, time surges forward again and Akiros is yanked back into the thick of battle along with it. His fury now cooled to an ice cold simmering rage, the battle scarred warrior moves as an automaton, years of skill and training acting in place of his emotionally charged mind. First he takes a single step, and then, with deadly skill and precision, his massive blade rips diagonally through the hag's torso, nearly eviscerating her. The powerful stroke then continues into the smaller witch to the side, entering her neck at an angle and slicing cleanly through her, snuffing out her life in an instant. Allowing the blades momentum to spin him around, Akiros' dead, flat, eyes bear down upon the hag, knowing, promising her imminent and utter destruction.
Cleave Power Attack Hag:
Damage:
Cleave Attack Witch:
Damage Witch:
Jemini nods at Verik's words. The notion of acting for the good of trees is not entirely foreign to her - though she herself is only accustomed to the responsible management of forests. Trees are a valuable and sustainable commodity - and hence valuable to a noble house such as the Lebedas.
"Though it may differ from your understanding," Jemini adds, "I'm intent on ensuring prosperous and well-nurtured forests. Wood is an important resource for a people - I would not have squandered what should be managed responsibly and with respect." She nods to Verik, "Abadar may not be your ideal partner, but in this at least you can be assured that we'll be accountable."
A druid!? Of course... He's crazy.'
Berrin stares at the half-orc druid suspiciously, remembering the last encounter they had with one. He did not relish the idea of grappling another bear anytime in the near future.
Shifting his feet he looks from speaker to speaker hoping that, for once, they could have a peaceful encounter in the wilds. Remembering their encounters with crazy people so far, Orlivanch and Bokken, he realizes this encounter could go either way; 'Fifty-fifty.' Their track record so far with crazies, well, certified crazies anyway.
"Hey... um..." Berrin injects, wondering how to tell of their previous encounter with druids. "So eh... This thing here is about more than civilization versus nature friend. We eh.. We encountered another druid a while back, just over a year ago actually. An' he had a warning for us. He warned us that a fey queen had her eyes on the area and over the past year we've found more evidence pointing to that fact..." he says, hooking a thumb at Nicolai, "...and some pointers toward the possible return of one Choral the Conqueror, if the name means anything to ya. He was a bad-ass magic user who had dragons under his command. So eh.. Hopefully we're on the same side here buddy, the side opposing general destruction and the subjugation of everything and everyone that is. So whad'ya say buddy? Friends? Or at least not outright enemies, huh?" he finishes hopefully, spreading his arms.
Tandlara nearly collapses in exhaustion after channeling such raw, dark power. Malgorzata, weakened as she is, seizes the opportunity. She reaches towards Tandlara with one withered, gray hand. "Claim her, my mistress! She will be the undoing of this city, by your will!" Tandlara's eyes grow wide, even by elven standards, as a look of horror overcomes her. Perhaps it is because she cannot fathom what she has done, or perhaps because she can, but she stands as still as a statue. Malgorzata limps up the stairs, simply walking by the frozen witch.
As Malgorzata passes Tandlara, she snaps into motion and scrambles down the stairs. She nearly trips as she avoids the doppelganger and the other witches, but makes her way down into the cellar near Akiros and the hag. She looks back at the retreating figure of Malgorzata and freezes in fear again.
The hag seems to realize that her time is nearly up, and that she needs to either kill Akiros or be killed in turn. She growls a hideous noise and lunges forward with her sharp claws, going for his throat. He turns into the attacks, taking away most of her momentum and sparing his throat from being torn out at the cost of several deep cuts to his neck. The hag, knowing she is in her final moments if she does not finish Akiros, redoubles her efforts to kill the General.
With most of their number dead and their leader soon to follow, the resolve of the two cultists breaks. They flee up the stairs after the doppelganger, nearly tripping over Corwin's body in the attempt. It seems that their devotion to Gyronna is not as strong as seeing four of their number brutally hacked down by Akiros.
The druid seems content to listen and take in their arguments, never dropping his guard or his hand. When Berrin finishes their pitch a tad awkwardly, he finally speaks. "Abadar is no friend of mine or of nature's. He commands his followers to exploit the land, pollute the wilds, and breed beyond the natural capacity of the resources at hand. When this world is no more than a husk, it will not be because of some conqueror, dragon, or fey queen. It will be the followers of Abadar who cause the end of this world." He drops his hand slowly, causing the wind to slow to a mild breeze. [b]"You are correct, though. Relative to these trolls, Abadar is a model of restraint. While trolls are normally rapacious and destructive, these last few months have seen them set to purpose. They tear the trees down in droves, while sending the lizardfolk to over-fish and over-hunt and ordering the kobolds to build and dig. I fear they will soon expand and overrun more than the small area they have currently claimed, ruining much of the land with their ways."
He walks out to meet the Founders, clearly not allowing them any further to his oaken home. "The trees, the rivers, the mountains... They are all connected. The choices you make in your city affect the balance of the wild even as far as here. I have rarely met city-dwellers capable of any moderation or restraint. What makes you different? Humanity has no limit to its appetites or its capacity to fulfill them. The trolls, out of balance as they are with the area, have only a limited and single-minded capacity to sate their appetites, destructive as that capacity is. Should I allow you to destroy them and open the path to so much more industry? Where is the balance in that?"
It is Nikolai who speaks first, for better or worse. They are being polite, grandfather. We are not here to seek permission, we are here to stop the trolls from killing and pillaging the residents of Sanctuary. I think they'd say that the trolls and lizards have caused more damage to them than they have to your wood.
The big man looks around his goal ompanions for support and realizes they were thinking of diplomatic replies. After a brief grimace, he adds If a predator enters another game trail, what happens next is only natural.
Verik turns to look at Nikolai for a long moment, considering him. He turns back to the druid and has slightly more edge to his voice. "Perhaps not as I would have said it, Nikolai, but I cannot disagree with your bold honesty. He is correct Gozran - we are not here to seek your permission to stop the trolls and their chieftain. That does not mean we will not listen and respect your ways, however."
He holds up a hand then and shakes his head. "Gozran, you and I can argue about whether a rock is a rock for a full fortnight, but we will not sway one another. Where you see encroachment of a town of humans, I see the righteous building of a civilization where before stood a ruined fort of bandits that only spread murder, chaos and destruction. I have near daily arguments with a chosen priest of Erastil over these things you hold dear, yet consider him a friend nonetheless. We may disagree over the trees and their value, yet I know all too well that a settlement which recklessly ravages the land to extract resources cannot endure the test of time, benefiting only a wicked few while the majority starve. This is neither my way, nor that of the Founders of Newhaven."
Verik spreads his hands. "You demand assurances? A treaty or accord? Such things I thought are not heeded by druids of the wilds, though laws and contracts made in good faith will be honored by Newhaven for as long as it stands. But they should not be made hastily if they are to have trusted value, so the Lady Jemini and I would return with Jhod of Erastil to negotiate with you when this matter of the trolls is concluded."
Jemini nods seriously, her hair shuffles slightly and shimmers as if illuminated by a halo, "Bringing Jhod into this is a great idea. He should be best suited to mediate between the opposing ideologies here. But, what concerns me, is that you confirm that the trolls are unusually organized and driven. It is my understanding that this is uncommon to the extreme - which is why I suspect a strong figure behind them that leads their actions. Perhaps a powerful chieftain or warlord?"
Nikolai clenches his jaw in impatience. We will learn about the troll leaders from the lizardmen and trolls. We've announced ourselves. If there's nothing to be gained here, let's take our leave and get this done. Fighting trolls in a strange forest at night does mot appeal to me.
Zander lets the grumbling and hard looks diffuse a bit. "Aside form the Balance and Civilization, we are looking for a missing man, one of my Wardens. He traveled this way to investigate the stories of the trolls and help any travelers. I wonder if you came upon him?"
Berrin shifts his feet uncomfortably as the discussion progresses, he had no thoughts for deep-seeded theological discussions, he just came along for the adventure. That and the trolls. No way was he letting the party face trolls on their own, he thinks glancing over at Verik who had an uncanny knack for getting himself in near-death situations.
Keeping his peace he just tries to look unthreatening to the druid, maybe he should offer the man a drink?
Taisper watches as the curious deputation of his cousin, Jemini, and Nikolai attempt to come to some kind of terms with the Druid. He himself is still a bit at-odds over having left the prisoners alive, but in the end knows it was the best decision for the time being. After all, if it becomes a problem, he can always find them later.
If forced at swordpoint to make an admission one way or the other, the inquisitor would have to confess that Verik's letter left him feeling a little bit at sea, emotionally. It had been quite easy to let himself get distance from everyone this last year, but as usual, his cousin's unique ability to appeal simultaneously to Taisper's deep and apparently unshakable need for family and his sense of duty to the church continues to carry a great deal of weight.
What must they have thought in Absalom he thinks to himself, to get such an inquiry? Surely this can't be the first time something like this has happened. Still, I kind of can't believe he did it. I'll be hearing about this, I've no doubt.
Taisper hangs back by Zander and Berrin, knowing that even though he is not formally caparisoned as an Abadarian, magic has a quick way of seeing past slim everyday deceptions like his, and it would only be a matter of time before the Druid learned he was outnumbered by those who would see the logical and necessary spread of civilization over his own wild curations. He nods along with Zander's question, doing his best to play the part of the simple sellsword plying his trade, perhaps a bit above his station.
The two combatants slice and claw at each other, each hell bent on the other's demise. As their dance nears its last movements, Akiros knows that it shall be he who remains standing once death's final aria has been sung. With a voice as cold as the grave, he pronounces her epitaph "May your rotted soul burn forever in the pits of the Abyss." and swings his blade for the final time...
Attack:
Damage:
...yet at that precise moment, fate, or perhaps the hag's evil goddess herself, seems to step in and take a hand in things, for at the last second, what would have been sure to be a killing stroke is inexplicably turned aside, the blade instead glancing harmlessly off the hags slimy hide. The two, general and hag, look at each other, and it is not clear who is more surprised that the leader of the coven still draws breath.
Malgorzata looks behind her as she hits the top of the stairs in her staggered state, seeing that Tandlara fled deep into the cellar upon her spellcasting. She gathers all her will to pull the disguise of Mrianne back upon her face in order to meld back into the populace. In her exhaustion from the dark magic, the disguise shows her as haggard and exhausted-looking, with stringy, dirty hair. She opens the door to make her mistake, ready to slip back and make her way to safety.
The presence of armed guards waiting outside the door shocks her. As the door closes behind her, she notices the chalk mark with a look of despair. The guardsmen and soldiers have their hands on the hilts of their swords, clearly prepared for violence. One of them challenges her: "Where is the Captain and the others?"
Malgorzata can barely keep the illusion around her, so great is her pain and exhaustion. She opens her mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by the two witches of the coven opening the door behind her as they attempt to flee the carnage below. She sees an opening and takes it. "Thank the gods that you are here! These women are trying to kill the Founders downstairs! I was barely able to escape!"
The guardsmen jump into action, cutting the women down before they have a chance to speak. The soldiers run in first, clambering down the stairs to the aid of their leaders downstairs. The guardsmen likewise rush into the house, leaving Malgorzata alone long enough to slip away unnoticed. Moments later, she has a new face again, and the dark plans of revenge begin to coalesce in her mind...
What remains of the dark malevolence inside Tandlara seems gone, as is the source of her terror. She reaches to grasp the remaining tendrils of the darkness, pulling enough in to unleash a ray of dark magic at the hag. She gasps as some strength is pulled away from her, though it is not nearly as debilitating as what Tandlara did to Malgorzata.
Barely alive and further weakened by Tandlara's magic, the hag cultist of Gyronna lashes out with her claws at Akiros in a fight to the death. She drives one claw deep into his unprotected collarbone, snapping it with her still-prodigious strength, and rips out a chunk of flesh to go with the ruined bone. Barely capable of standing, a lesser man would have fallen much sooner. But Akiros Ismort is no ordinary man, and Akiros has debts that need repayment. He pulls his sword and shield up, fighting through the terrible pain of his torn muscles and snapped bones, through the emotional horror of seeing his comrade die and another seemingly accept a dark pact of unknown consequence. Akiros knows that he will not fall, not today.
The druid seems lost in some sort of reverie with nature, listening to the streams or the trees. He snaps to and gruffly responds to their questions. "You speak of Gregary? Yes, he was here. He spent many days in my company, coming here between his trips deeper into the wilderness. We enjoyed each other's company. He was a young man of many words, but I could sense that he was in balance with nature. I was quite saddened when he did not return, but I know that he is alive. His voice would have come to me had he been lost beyond the veil. He last set out onto the lake to go to the island, using the abilities that he learned from me to safely cross the water without requiring a manufactured vessel."
To Jemini, he responds quickly as well. "You are correct. They have a leader."
Jabber, hiding behind Verik and his horse, pipes up. "That Hargulka! Hargulka!"
The druid grimaces when he hears the name or at the kobold's voice. "Yes, Hargulka. I have heard this name. Gregary mentioned him upon his return from one of his treks. He told me that he knew their plans, but it was the one time I knew him to be reticent. He said that he could only tell one named Zander Whitestag, which I can only presume to be you." He gestures towards Zander, who wears the helm he took from the Stag Lord's corpse. "You are out of balance, young man, so full of pain and anger. The scars you attempt to hide are nothing compared to the scars inside. Who betrayed you so to make you so full of bitterness, even amidst friends?" There is mere curiosity in his voice, with a touch of sage wisdom that reminds him of his mentor Lorek, bringing back a rush of memories: the look upon his father's face when he saw the burned flesh, Lorek's blind acceptance, the feel of Verik's illusion magic washing over his scars, Jemini's confrontation, memories denied and memories caused by the fire called to mind by the old druid.
Jemini picks up on the subtle harmonics of the druid, and looks closely at Zander to see his response.
Zander nods sagely at the Druid's words, and nods his head to acknowledge that he is indeed Zander. And his heart leaps at the news that Gregary is still alive, even though he is missing. [Praise Milani I have not sent the lad to his death out here alone.[/i] He marvels that the old man can sense so much...so far.
But when the interview turns personal, he feels a flush of ice down his back, that does not quell an angry heat building up at such a personal intrusion. When he sees his friends turning to look at him too, it becomes to much. "THIS...is this what you want to see." And he wrenches off the helm, taking the headband along with it. Zander stands with his ruined face and stares back at the Druid.
"What do I have to be glad about, to counter this bitterness you see? I am accepted in this world only because I hide who I am. That would make anyone deservedly bitter."
In a slightly softer voice, "No one did THIS to me, but me. I made a choice and received this face as a consequence. But where was your Balance? I have received a punishment, although I committed no crime. Forced to walk a criminal's banishment, for a moment of youthful heroics....Kingdoms and Principalities are built on such heroics, not the other way around....but the sagas leave out parts like this. A life saved from a fire for a life ruined by it. A fair deal for someone...but not me."
He puts the helm back on, shadowing his face, but he now looks more at the ground in front of the Druid. "Milani has guided me to the path of a new start, but that doesn't mean I don't still feel the pain from the past one."
Verik has a pained expression as he looks back at his friend, so scarred and burned beyond easy recognition. Memories of over a year past come to his mind, as he prayed and labored for a way with Tandlara to ease the burden of Zander being near others, some brief respite and ease no matter how fleeting. Only Tandlara has the right to understand him in this way - bloody crazed Gozran for upending him like this! No not crazy after all, but too disturbing all the same...
"Enough of this." Verik's voice is raised slightly and firm, though deliberately measured as he takes one step forward and holds up his right hand. He forces himself to look back at Zander's face and not to flinch or avert his eyes. "Zander, you need not prove anything more to this...this druid of the marshes. He may have some power of divination or farsighted tricks with his animal pets, but he does not know you, nor your trials and tribulations." He turns back to glare at the druid. "Certainly you know nothing of his fate, nor the rest of us, nor of Newhaven. For your timely news of Gregary and his recent whereabouts we thank you, and that you treated the lad well matters to us, and provides a beginning for discourse. Our path to lay this Hargulka low is now clear, so make your choice to help or hinder us plainly. Whether you wish to take a reasonable hand in ensuring a proper future between us is for you to decide."
Berrin cringes at the druids plain spoken words regarding Zander, remembering their discussion a year past when he revealed his true name to him and Jemini's reactions when Berrin told her. 'Maybe I should have kept that to m'self. Too late now.'
Looking at Zander Berrin feels a well of sympathy for the man, whatever else he was, he was still uglier that a harpy without her feathers, and despite that, he was his friend, tried and proven beyond any doubts and Berrin didn't relish the thought of the archer going back to his melancholic ways.
"Hey now." Berrin speaks up, going over to Zander and placing a hand on his shoulder. "You got us, right? You got a purpose, right? Ya don't need ta prove nuthin Zander, man, you've proven yourself many times over to us and the people of Newhaven. S#!* man, you'r Whitestag the Warden of Newhaven! You'r a hero of Stagfall. Screw the burns man, we still love ya' man. I'd still go the distance for ya, ok? Hells! I climbed into a tatzelwyrm nesting pit and grappled a bear for Verik, don't ya think I'd do the same for you man?"
"Look around you man." Berrin gestures at the group in general. "Your with us ok? Your a core member of this misfit band of screwballs, ok?"
The druid essentially ignores Verik, keeping his attention raptly focused on Zander. "I see not with the eyes of a man, but through the eyes of nature. You are out of balance, denying who you are and what your choices have led to. You call it a punishment to look as you do, but what of the life you saved? Is that life nothing to you? Had you known the cost of your heroics, would you have done it anyway? Would you do it again? You have not made peace with your path, else you would be balanced. It is not a matter of karmic, cosmic balance. The natural state of man is not to look for balance on ledgers and scales." He looks at Verik pointedly while saying this. "It is a personal balance, a humble acceptance of your place in life at a given moment. Ambition, regret, anger, passion, even love... It has no place in the serenity of nature. Your friends clearly share a fondness for you, but you do not share it with them. You must make peace with yourself, release this bitterness, and find your balance. Until then, you will simply be hiding behind that mask. Once you have found balance, you will need no mask. When you are ready, return here and share in the serenity of the natural world with me."