[Mentally to Zinnath]: Hmm, I had not considered that...but perhaps you haven't fully considered all possibilities either. What if...you were to add a paladin to your roster of minions? Once word reached the rest of dragonkind, you'd likely be the most admired wyrm on all the Flanaess.
"There does seem to be an uptick in evil activity in the area," Bataleigha admits. Then she quietly adds, "We can speak more on this later in private; there may be ears of this wicked cult still skulking in Hommlet...maybe even under this very roof."
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Kyrie is not thinking clearly and refuses to be pulled into an adult discussion. 'Wait, does that mean you _have_ a horde? Well of course you do, you're a dragon and all dragons have hordes. But, theoretically, if we took your horde, would you still be considered a dragon? And if we're your minions, isn't there some kind of benefit package? Because if you don't offer a competitive benefits package I'm afraid we'd have to bind together. Minions United Union!! Or simply MUU for short. See, we already have all cows everywhere on our payroll, that's how you can tell it would work. And you can't just say 'Well I won't eat you, that's a benefit' because it's not. That's called a "negative reinforcement" technically, so it can't be included in the benefits package. What if you could create ice cubes with your breath? You could list "all the free ice cubes" on your package. heh. package. Okay, well, my drink is getting warm. Put some ice cubes in it and I'll -consider- doing things to the paladin.
No, I won't say exactly what those things are. I will promise that they're not family-friendly. And probably rated R. Can't get more specific because I think you're technically under 13 in dragon years. OR non dragon years. However the ratio works out....'
Back to all, except the Paladin: "Bat suggests I recruit the Paladin to be one more of my minions. It seems very nonstandard to me. Sort of like maybe a Cleric of Pelor taking on undead hench-creatures would be. Of course, I am a very nonstandard dragon, to be sure, so why shouldn't I forge my own path in this? What do you all think?"
To Kyrie: "Labor disturbances will not be tolerated! Any efforts to raise rates, or go on strike, will be met with the hiring of scab labor. None of you are so powerful yet as to not be replaced relatively easily!"
As Fezzik lifts his "mug" to his lips, he suddenly hears Zinnath's voice in his head, causing him to jump and spill some of his drink. He looks around for the dragon and gives him a "look what you did" look. "Why always do that? Talk normal," he tries to think but says out loud. He wonders to himself if he will get used to "talking" without speaking and if the others talk about him that way. "If you scared, why not fly away? You have wings," he says in response to Zinnath's concerns about the paladin.
When it is suggested the paladin join the group, Fezzik pauses and sizes up the fighter. "No Deko but ok. He come to help finish clear moat house as test," he thinks to the group, the stress of concentrating to do so apparent on his face.
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'Hmm? You'd hire scarabs? Do you know how hard those things are to find? And train? And how redonkulous would that look if you were walking around with a bunch of beetles skittering beneath you. Think of how all the other dragons would laugh and laugh at what you've been reduced to.'
Turning back to the discussion at the table, Kyrie speaks up, nodding at Fezzik and building on his point. "I think that seals it. We'll need an extra sword to clear the moathouse, and we shouldn't visit a new city with an unproven new ally. The moathouse will let us all at least get familiar with each other."
Zinnath thinks to himself, "they are brave, and good in a fight, but not the smartest crew."
All (to include the Paladin): "Agreed. Oh, and hello Paladin, I am Zinnath, a mighty and scary dragon of some repute in these parts!"
Having gotten some rest and an additional sword hand, the group takes some time to relax and handle various duties around town like having your gear fixed up, selling off jewelry, and so on.
Late in the day, as you're having dinner, several members of the town council approach you at the Welcome Wench, including the canon, Terjon, and the druid Jaroo. (It's a little unusual to see them both at the same time, but desperate times and all...)
Terjon opens discussion with your group by announcing, "We - the town council of Hommlet - in consideration with Rufus and Burne, have heard of your great prowess and your continued dedication to the safety of Hommlet. For this we thank you."
The village elder, Kenter, a doddering man with wispy white hair, says, "We wish to extend hospitality to all of you, even those visiting from abroad."
Jaroo then adds, "I've enlisted the aid of a member of the Old Faith who may be helpful to you, especially in light of your team's recent losses." With that he gestures and introduces a fellow who looks like a slender traveler or woodsman. "This is Avendryl."
Terjon notes, "Ah, I will be having a ceremony for our poor friend Deko tomorrow, so that we can memorialize his contributions."
"Nice to meet you all." the slender woodsman says after being introduced. "Jaroo has told me a little about your expedition to the moathouse. If there is anything left to be seen there, I would very much like to accompany you, if you would be willing of course."
For the most part, Avendryl appears to be a tall, young elf in clean, functionally clothing. The elf's black hair falls to shoulders of his forest green cloak. Beneath the cloak the elf wears dark brown leather armor. He carries a rapier, shortbow, dagger, and staff. There seems to be something not quite right about his elven nature, perhaps it is the ever-so-slight blue tinge to his skin or shear brightness of his green eyes.
Zinnath alights on Bat's shoulder, his tail wrapping around her neck to hold his balance as he sits up on his haunches and peers at Avendryl. His eyes spin, and he begins speaking with you telepathically.
All: "Didn't we already have a brooding elf type? Hardly a worthy replacement for the brave Deko, no offense intended."
[Mentally to Zinnath]: "He doesn't seem brooding to me. And I'd call Enoby more 'reserved' than 'brooding'."
Fezzik sleeps a little later than usual in an attempt to get over his hangover and to recover from the difficult day before. With a pounding headache, he's rather grumpy and short with anyone he talks too. After lunch, he feels well enough to go visit Rufus and discuss what type of equipment he may be able to get at a discount. He asks if it would be possible to have a set of masterwork full plate made for him.
Back at the inn for dinner, Fezzik is still rather quiet. He pauses eating when the members of the town council approach. He stands to greet them with a small nod of respect. "Thanks for support. Still have work to do," he says addressing the council members. He then turns to the elf and extends his hand. "Welcome. Any help is good," he says as they shake hands.
Avendryl's eyes go wide as Fezzik's hand engulfs his comparatively tiny hand. "Hopefully I can be of some use. Jaroo had told me about you, Fezzik. I must say, your form is even more imposing than I had imagined...just glad that we're on the same side." Avendryl says with a grin.
Looking to the others as much as the massive half-ogre, "When do you anticipate heading back to the moathouse?"
Avendryl cocks his head as the reality of what Zinnath is sets in, and says to himself as much as anyone else, "And a dragon too? Can't say this party lacks for diversity."
Enoby remains hooded and does her best not to draw attention, as usual, but once the party is engaged in conversation it's impossible for Avendryl to not realize that she's a dark elf.
"Do make sure to get enough rest," says Jaroo in a kindly fashion.
"Indeed, but make sure to arrive in time for the service in the morning. A late arrival would be disruptive," adds Terjon, the stern cleric of St. Cuthbert.
Avendryl blinks rapidly as he takes notice of the dark elf in the corner, and quietly asks one of the others, "Ummm...not trying to be judgmental, but is that a Drow in the corner?"
After shaking his hand and saying a few words of greeting to Avendryl, Bataleigha offers Jaroo's friend or apprentice the table's bread basket, in case he's a bit peckish. When he points out Enoby, Bataleigha nods and whispers, "A former member of the cult, but she's been instrumental in rooting out its members here in the village and in the countryside as well."
Avendryl nods, understanding Bataleigha's explanation as he takes a bit of bread. "Thank you." he says, keeping an eye on the drow none-the-less.
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Time passes.
You break bread and have the opportunity to make introductions. There is some initial tension because of Enoby's heritage and the sober story of Deko's demise, and the pressure of the expectations from the town's luminaries, but the promise of making a real difference - and real money - causes a contrasting enthusiasm that heightens the sense of anticipation.
Your sleep is restful, and a light rain passes through the evening, creating a comforting sound that lulls you off to slumber.
The next day, rising with the sound of the roosters, you reassemble in hopes of an early start (and a sound breakfast - Gundigoot seems to be in good spirits, and the prospect that rises of fresh sausage, bacon, warm biscuits, and fruit is very tempting after a few days of trail rations). Even after breakfast is served, though, there is no sign of Enoby. Finally, Zinnath attempts to reach her mentally, to no reply. The group warily heads upstairs to check her room and finds the door ever so slightly ajar. Once pushed open, the scene is grim: the window is open and a dead body lies on the floor - though not hers. A hastily-scrawled note is pinned to the dead man's chest by means of an arrow.
My friends - it seems so strange to use that word, in truth, yet there it is in cold black and white! - this man is an assassin for the cult. Doubtless, someone has spilled word of our exploits and he thought to take matters into his own hands for some reward. Though I dispatched him, his disappearance will cause the cult to send more like him, and worse. To allay suspicion I have left the town in hopes of drawing off their attentions. Please do not follow; our best chance of safety remains in you defeating the cult. But they will follow me to the ends of the world, for the cleric we defeated bore the unholy sigil of Lolth, the demon queen of spiders, the most fickle and ruthless goddess of the drow, and so they must hunt me until one or the other of us is ended.
I hope that you are equal to the task of this quest, for all our sakes.
- Enoby
Fezzik seems bothered by the assassination attempt. "What would have happened if come after us instead?" he wondered to himself.
"Cult stronger than thought. We must finish moat house then find main base," he says determined to protect the town.
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Rising with a head like a storm door besieged by an ironwood battering ram, Kyrie shuffles her way downstairs. She stays in quite commune with a pitcher of fresh milk, and ewer of cold water, and twice does her hand wave for a fresh platter of sausages and biscuits to replace the plate that hath made the ultimate sacrifice.
At long last she drowns the last of the milk and the last of the water and head rises. She blinks twice and inhales deeply. The shade of battle and loss and near-defeat that stalked her steps from the previous encounter lists like dew engulfed in the morning sun.
Eyes wide and bright and with a slight glimmer of refreshed *power* she follows in the party's wake as they investigate the wayward drow.
She gasps at the corpse, worried that it's Enoby's, but her fears are quickly quieted.
Kyrie nods emphatically at Fezzik's sage words. "Why, yes. We must cleave together, lest it be our corpse sprawled upon the floor. We must look to our selves. For strength."
In the morning light's glare, it's hard to know for certain if her eyes lingered upon the paladin's broad chest a moment longer than needed.
Zinnath turns his head towards Avendryl...
All: "It turns out that we are in need of a brooding elf type, welcome aboard."
"Brooding? I don't believe that I've been brooding." Avendryl comments. "Have I?" he asks, somewhat confused.
After the revelation of Enoby's disappearance, you head to the funeral ceremony for Deko, at the pristine temple of St. Cuthbert at the northwestern side of the village.
The local canon, Terjon, goes on for some time, extolling Deko's virtues like bravery, hard-headedness, and unwillingness to get involved in lengthy philosophical debates when action was called for - all of which are part of the canonical virtues of St. Cuthbert. After a sermon that involves a great deal of standing, sitting, standing, singing, sitting, standing, bowing, a procession in front of the grave after the casket is lowered, sitting, standing, giving affirmations and anecdotes, and finally dispersing into small groups, the service finally ends.
Terjon takes the time to find each of you and says, "Your friend gave the ultimate sacrifice for our village. Any time that you wish to visit him again, our doors are always open. Well, before nightfall, that is. After nightfall, please contact the ostiarius."
Once you manage to extricate yourselves from the uncomfortable service, you assemble with the cart and travel back to the moathouse. For your new members, the journey is a bit curious, as they are not familiar with the swampy landscape, but once you arrive and verify that nothing awful has taken up residence in the ground level, you descend into the depths once more...
Fezzik follows Bat and waits for her to search the door.
"Lovely scenery." Avendryl sarcastically comments.
Once arriving at the moathouse, Avendryl asks, "Mind if I give it a listen?"
To Bat: "I thought checking the doors was my job? Not that I mind. It is nice having minions, isn't it?"
[Mentally to Zinnath]: Yeah, I thought so, too. Guess I'm not the most patient person. I'll try not to step on your...tail...in this matter going forward.
She gives Sir Scary a smile and makes a sweeping bow toward the door while stepping aside.
Avendryl listens at the door and Domeric focuses his senses for supernatural evil. No sound comes from the other side, nor is there any malevolent presence.
Avendryl starts to stand up after listening at the door, and his gaze wanders to the edge of the door, where the door is fitted into its frame. The stonework seems to curve in slightly, and after examining it closely with a little light he is able to barely make out that the stone simply has a recess large enough for the door itself - the door is a false door and apparently is just put into a small slot in the wall to give intruders pause.
At Bat: "See what happens when you have the rookie check the doors? If I had checked that door it would have lead to a treasure vault of unimaginable wealth!"
No signs of magic from the door - it's just a fake front.
"So...I assume we know another way in?" Avendryl asks hopefully.
[Mentally to Zinnath]: Then go find another door!
Bat turns to Avendryl and says, "If memory serves, beyond the next door to our west* there was a passage heading further north* that we never explored. Follow me!"
Avendryl has a suspicion that the door may have some kind of trap connected to it - why else make a false door in a dungeon?
Bat makes her way down the hall to the north and finds that the hall turns to the east and also has a staircase that goes down further, a descent of perhaps another 10'.
Fezzik scratches his head, a confused look on his face. "Why have door go nowhere?" he says.
When the group moves on, he follows. Stopping at the intersection, he looks down the hall and then down the stairs. "Which way?"
Looking back to the massive warrior while moving along with the rest of the group, Avendryl guesses, "A trap for unwelcome guests such as ourselves? I suspect if we would have opened that false door, a pit-trap or some such nonsense would have sprung."
To Fezzik: "The problem with that door, my friend, is that Avendryl checked it. Once she inexpertly checked it, and determined it to be a false door, the magic of the maze made it so. Had I checked it, it would likely have headed us straight to the kitchens and the treasure horde."
[Mentally to Zinnath]: I think it's best to try to finish off this level before proceeding deeper underground, don't you? Care to scout ahead?
Rather than have Zinnath mentally communicate her plan to everyone, Bat simply taps Fezzik on an arm and points down the unexplored hallway.
All: "Let's move it all, down that hall. Follow the tin can!"
You travel around a dogleg in the corridor, which leads to a crypt. Slots in the walls hold coffins, but they are broken and worn. Splintered bits of bone are visible on the floor.
Zinnath will throw down some detect magic and scan the area...