With Aurica's makeshift lever in place, the group works together to try and heave the slab of rock out of place. Lann takes up a position on the end of the rope, seemingly doing his best to avoid touching the others on his end of it. With a countdown bellowed by Jens, and some almost supernaturally good teamwork, the motley crew heave-ho! and strain themselves to heft the rock up, even a little. It takes a few minutes of struggling, but finally, with one last outburst of strength, there's a sudden feeling of tension letting loose as the rock is shifted enough to roll a few inches away from the fortuitous small gap. Crel immediately seizes the opportunity to scramble out from his tiny prison, and as soon as he shouts out his successful escape, the rescuers let go of the gigantic boulder. It crashes back down into the space it had once balanced over with a frightening rumble. What luck had kept it from crushing him in the first place becomes doubly apparent as the dust settles once more...
"Oh, thank you, thank you!" the rescued hybrid-creature says, dashing up to Jens and clutching his hands tightly. The man's calloused skin leaves him feeling unnaturally dry and scratchy to touch. Dyra rushes over and wraps her arms around Crel's back, whimpering loudly, tears forming in her one visible eye.
Lann smiles warmly at the entire group. "Thank you so much, kind souls. I cannot even begin to express how grateful I am for your assistance." He bows deeply, almost reverently. "Please, let us escort you to Neathholm. Our chieftain will surely reward you greatly for saving Crel's life. It is only fair of us to give you something for your efforts."
Meanwhile, Horgus seems to be considering Aurica's words, and he eventually nods in acquiescence. "You make a good point there, I must say," he mutters gruffly, but with almost a hint of respect in his words. Almost. "Thank goodness at least one of you is sane about these things."[/ooc]
As he moves off to assist the others in pushing and pulling, Reknar does overhear the exchange between Aurica and Horgus, and decides to drop a single line, pragmatic as ever - "What happened to 'don't judge a book by its cover'? It's supposed to be the oldest lesson in the book right?" - he adds to the man with a nudge, then moves off.
"Oh, thank you, thank you!" the rescued hybrid-creature says, dashing up to Jens and clutching his hands tightly. The man's calloused skin leaves him feeling unnaturally dry and scratchy to touch. Dyra rushes over and wraps her arms around Crel's back, whimpering loudly, tears forming in her one visible eye.
Lann smiles warmly at the entire group. "Thank you so much, kind souls. I cannot even begin to express how grateful I am for your assistance." He bows deeply, almost reverently. "Please, let us escort you to Neathholm. Our chieftain will surely reward you greatly for saving Crel's life. It is only fair of us to give you something for your efforts."
"Heh" - Reknar shrugs with a smile - "No reason we shouldn't give you boys and girls a hand if you were needing it. And sure, let us visit this town of yours - lead the way, and we shall follow" - he turns an eye on the one just released - "Are you ok to travel?" - then back at the others - "I am Reknar by the way"
There's nothing wrong with your "style" of Diplomacy in general. HOWEVER, I do want you to consider the situation you are in and the people you are talking to. "One size fits all" is not something that exists when it comes to social interaction, no matter what result you get on the dice. You need to figure out the priorities that will sway an individual and adapt the way you speak with them in order to best appeal to them.
Talking like that is Not. Ever. Going to work with Horgus. Ever. You are literally doing the exact opposite of things that will make him respect you. No matter how high your Diplomacy modifier is, it would be fundamentally out-of-character for him to be swayed by you talking down to him. He's a guy who has spent his life in power--why would some lesser ruffian scolding him make him at all predisposed to them?
In short: what you're doing at the moment (and what you have been doing all along, frankly) is actually harming relations with Horgus more than helping them.
Also, I really dislike people taking 10 on Diplomacy checks (and Bluff, Intimidate, etc.) for myriad reasons. I can go into these at length if you are curious; just ask.
Horgus doesn't even deign to grant Reknar a response to that chiding, although Aurica can tell he's silently seething about it.
----
"I'm fine," Crel responds with a shrug. "Just a little dinged up, don't you know? Blasted bump on the back side of my head..."
Aurica arches a single brow at Reknar, but then they've other things to concern themselves with-- like the grateful... the grateful...
...the grateful whatever-the-hell-they-are.
"Glad we could be of some help," Aurica says, coiling up her rope again and giving a little nod of communal effort, yay! around to the others-- even Voren.
"Won't say no to a bit of rest... food... if you folk have got a source of fresh water that'd be right appreciated."
And a way out, but one thing at a time.
It's hard not to be moved by their obvious gratitude, and they seem honest and all. Aurica tries not to stare overmuch at their bizarre bodies as they go.
The earthquake, they'd called it.... do they have any notion of how bad it is? Do they know if the city yet stands at all? She aches to ask, but she swallows down her questions. One thing... at a time.
"Don't suppose you saw a dwarf come through here? He's a bit outta his head, but he could be trouble."
Jens grits his teeth as he works on the boulder, releasing it the instant Crel scrambles free to save his old back from the strain. When the - young man? - grabs his hands thankfully, he laughs with genuine triumph and pulls him into a one-armed embrace. "Ha! Well done, lads!" he exclaims, releasing Crel lest he cause him further injury. "Nothing like a victory to lift the spirits!" He points Crel in the direction of Voren, hoping the tiefling can patch up his head.
"Well, reward or not, I think we could stand to rest in Neathholm," he grunts, pulling his shield free from under the boulder. "What say you all?"
I get what you mean, and believe me I am doing that - considering the situation we are in - heck, you play with Heldar, he's got a whole different style to him.
It was not my intention to use a 'one size fits all' approach, but instead to stay true to what Reknar is (or at least how I thought of him) - he does not 'defer' to anyone just like that, and it will be a cold day in hell when he does so to someone like Horgus. Reknar thinks he understands Horgus, at least partially, and believes that for the time being, the man is concerned with himself and his own safety - notice that Reknar did change his approach - he now is trying to use a more jestful speech, instead of simply scolding Horgus.
The thing is Reknar does not really want Horgus to respect him, he doesn't feel that need - he will do his best to keep the man alive, but from the whole group, Horgus is his last priority. His main concern is to keep 'the fool' in check, without bringing harm to himself or the others. I was interpreting the Diplomacy as a way to make Horgus understand that in spite of his sometimes harsh words, Reknar has no ill-will towards the man, and is in fact trying to offer him advice that will benefit him and everyone else in the group in the current situation. It was in on way an attempt to 'mechanically' assume Horgus would shift his attitude because of a dice roll.
So as I see it, on the one hand we have Horgus seething about every single word Reknar says, and Reknar wanting to throttle the man, but what I am trying to do is not letting that through in Reknar's words, because he actually think his advice can be good for Horgus and everyone else. Bottom line, the Diplomacy was simply meant to convey the idea of 'I am asking you to play along, but in a good way because it will benefit everyone in the end, yourself included' - or to put it in other words, to mechanically show that Reknar was not being aggressive or scolding, or even trying to bully the man - simply reasoning with him as best as he can, keeping in mind what Reknar is and what he thinks of Horgus. My apologies if it came across any other way.
And yep, I am curious about the dislike regarding the take 10 on Bluff and Diplomacy - I tend to think that if it is accompanied by pertinent words, perhaps sitting down and talking things through, and roleplaying it out, it wouldn't be all bad...
So, I just wanted to make it clear that Reknar is being himself - he can be given to longer speeches, but in a situation such as this, he goes into pragmatic mode, trying to speak to the point - his comment to Horgus was light hearted, not aggressive or scolding, and meant to say 'look man, we are in a dark hole, so we need all the allies we can get, lets give these guys a chance and see what comes from there' - he would say these exact words to Aurica or any of the others, but to Horgus he just drops a hint because he doesn't really feels the need to get into long winded conversations with him.
And I would really like to make it clear that I would never lean on my character's crunched numbers to do the roleplaying for me, regardless of how much I may like building characters.
But I'll add this - the same way I don't like it when players slap a HUGE diplomacy or charisma bonus on their characters and think they simply need to stand around to make everyone love them (an argument could be made for Charisma, but I still would not like it), I also don't like it when people do it the other way around, dumping their Charisma and not caring about investing on Diplomacy or other social skills, expecting to sort out all the social interaction through roleplaying alone, because I think that it becomes kind of 'unfair' towards those who shifted and shuffled back and forth to make their characters mechanically more relevant in that same aspect. I would expect equal amounts of roleplaying from both, but expect the guy or girl that did not invest in social skills at all to mean well, but blumber away on most situations, while on similar grounds, and 'equivalent' roleplaying (as much as roleplay can be equivalent) the one that actually invested in it would succeed definitely more often.
Dang, I hope that was as useful as it was long :D
"I'm game for that" - Reknar pipes in at Jens in a good mood - "Lets move out then"
Osric smiles as the team rescues Crel.
"Yes, I would be very grateful to visit your home. Our journey has been quite perilous so far. Tell me, did our blind elf speak truly? Are your people descendants of the First Crusade? As you see, I follow the Inheritor and have a strong desire to learn more about the history of my church and its people."
Voren smiles at Crel's freedom. When Crel comes near, Voren begins his examination.
During this, Voren says, "We would love to see your home! We need all of the help we can get!"
Pulling his feet out of the loose dirt with a scowl, Flynn watches as the others celebrate.
Didn't FEEL particularly useful.
" Water and rest would be very welcome at this point! Though I'm not sure we did all that much. You already had dug away a lot of the dirt. Glad we could help tho."
Horgus has a very low opinion of Reknar at the moment. This is not because of your Diplomacy rolls and is entirely because of the way Reknar acts around him. Someone with a low opinion of you is not going to appreciate advice, no matter how it's deployed to them.
At the moment, Horgus thinks Reknar has been talking down to him a lot, and he doesn't appreciate that at all, because he thinks that Reknar is below him. I'm not saying Reknar has to agree with that, or that he necessarily has to change what he's doing. I'm saying that your current tact is incurring a lot of circumstance penalties because it's literally the exact opposite of something Horgus would take kindly to. And this is why he's seething.
On the note of Diplomacy vs. Roleplaying, I see your point, but I don't think that I am unfairly penalising you or supporting the others without ranks in Diplomacy. You'll notice the only times Horgus has actually been influenced was as a result of dice rolls. However, I do liberally apply circumstance modifiers depending on what has gone on in the roleplay, and I do allow certain in-character actions to influence a character's feelings towards you. (For example, helping Crel out from beneath the rock is an instant change to 'friendly' for these three.)
I am sure Reknar would succeed more often with most people. Horgus just happens to be one of the exceptions.
------------------
As for taking 10 on Diplomacy etc., it's primarily because I don't see most social interactions where a Diplomacy etc. roll matters a lot as being a safe/regular situation.
Talking to merchants. Cruising around town asking for information about a festival. Asking a friendly NPC to do something really minor that you wouldn't normally roll a Diplomacy check for. Convincing a random townsfolk to give you directions somewhere. I would say these are regular 'take 10' situations. You're not stressed at all. There's nothing really on the line to gamble.
Talking to black-market merchants. Asking around about a thieves' guild or cultist appearances. Asking a friendly NPC to do something incredibly dangerous like lie to the guards or help you fight a dragon. Schmoozing with the upper classes and trying to get in their good books. These are NOT regular situations. You're probably coming face-to-face with people that aren't exactly friendly or are downright dangerous. You're having to think on your feet more and you're really gambling on things working. People are really weighing up what you say vs. what they have to gain or lose. To me, this is as dangerous a situation as combat, in some ways.
That, and a simply gameist perspective: Diplomacy and the rest as a skill are stupid and dumb and broken, and the DCs are so low that you could literally take 10 your way through most situations given a few levels. I ran a Pathfinder Society scenario once where the tricked-out Intimidomancer literally did this. She took 10 to Intimidate the most powerful woman in Absalom, and there was nothing rules-wise that I could do about it. She soloed most of the scenario because of that.
"Excellent," Lann says with a smile. "It is not too long of a trip from here till Neathholm. You will certainly be able to rest once we are there. I can only hope our food will meet the palates of you surface-dwellers."
"Well, we certainly hope it's not too long..." Crel points to the nearest wall of the wide cavern, frowning deeply. His eyebrows seem to be made of the same strange, thin, grassy material as that which is on his head. Following his gesture, you can see a couple of exits from the cave; more than a couple have been blocked off by debris from the stone tower or have vast crevasses running through them. "It appears that the main tunnel out of here has collapsed."
"We know of an alternate route home, however. Fear not."
Your three strange new companions take the lead, directing you to a tunnel in the south-west of the cave. This passage is a winding one, with lots of twists and turns in its passage. The earthquakes seem to have affected this one badly, with numerous awkward stretches involving clambering over rubble and unset dirt, or having to climb down to the newly-created second level of what was once a flat passage. As you walk, Crel and Lann continue to answer your questions. (Dyra seems incapable of speaking intelligibly as a result of her severe facial tumours, although she appears to follow conversations and chime in with appropriate noises and gestures when she can.)
"A crazed dwarf?" Lann arches a brow, sharing a look with Dyra before he continues. "I believe I know who you mean. His name is Millorn, and he has been living down here for some years. He appears to be harmless, though, as you say, seems to have lost his mind."
"I did not see him pass us, although if he came from the same tunnel that you two did, it is doubly strange, for there should not be another route he could take."
"He is a mage, however, so perhaps he had some other means of travel...?" Crel adds with an apologetic shrug.
Before this conversation can continue much further, there's a sudden tremor as the ground heaves and shakes as if some beast encased within the earth had decided to suddenly escape its rocky prison. Though there are a harrowing few minutes of dirt tumbling down all around you and the sound of earth rending and scraping like a blade on a shield, once the earthquake ceases, there is little to show for it. Warily, the group proceeds on.
Osric's question about their heritage seems to cause Lann pause, although Aravashnial perks up to listen in with barely-hidden excitement. "... in short," he says eventually, taking his time as he carefully selects his words, "yes, yes it is true. Chief Sull can no doubt tell you more than I know--he is the oldest in our village, and second wisest only after Seer Opoli. But... in short, yes."
"We call ourselves the First Descendants," Crel continues, seemingly less awkward about the topic than his companion. He grins, "Although that's not what you surface-dwellers typically call us..."
Aravashnial pipes up helpfully, "Pitlings, am I right? Or mole people, perhaps? Those are the terms I am most familiar with!" ... "helpfully".
Dyra visibly winces as Crel nods. "That, or mongrelfolk. Though I don't rightly mind that name, at least." He grins. "It sounds like we are right larrikins with that name, does it not?"
"I prefer the term First Descendants, personally," Lann says, visibly not at all amused by the conversation. "I am proud of our ancestors and what they did for the world, and for us. For their glory to come to such a twisted end..." He reaches up, trailing a gentle, 'normal' hand over his scaly cheek with a pained expression. "It is a testament that demonkind's taint can overcome even the purest of spirits."
"I don't think it's overcome anything at all," Anevia says with a gentle smile. "What matters is what's in your heart, after all, not what's on the outside."
You follow the winding route for a good half an hour further until the tunnel reaches a significant obstacle. Ahead, a wide chasm some seventy feet across splits the floor in twain, parting the seams of the earth as easily as a person would pull apart a loaf bread in two. The floating rock dust in the air and the groans as the tunnel walls settle indicate that this is no doubt one product of the small earthquake you felt not twenty minutes earlier.
"Oh no," Crel says when he spies the crevasse, and Dyra whimpers in agreement. "Oh no..."
"... Surely, this couldn't have ..." Even Lann seems to have gone pale from the severe damage to the passage. He shakes his head. "No. I refuse to believe Neathholm would have been affected by this..." The words seem as much an attempt to give himself confidence than anything.
Voren smiles. "I agree with with Anevia. I may be a tiefling; But I consider myself as normal as everyone else. I just want people to live well and happy."
While walking, he turns to Crel. "Are you sure you're all right? I figure you should know, these earthquakes might be from the demons attacking Kenabres on the surface."
Seeing the chasm, Voren pales. Well, pales as much as a red-skinned tiefling can pale. "What do we do now? We could use my scale. But it can only be done three times a day. We could try our tying it to the arrow trick again. But again only three of us could go over. The only other idea would be to... climb down, move to the other side, and climb back up with the aid of a rope and the others." His voice gets quiet at the end. He turns to the others, fear in his voice. "W-What do we do?"
Aurica grimaces at seeing the chasm in front of them. Nothin's easy, is it?
"How far past this is it to-- Neathholm?" she asks Lann, having listened in silence to all the talk about what, exactly, they are. "Would folk have boards and things? It isn't that far across the cleft, if we could bridge it with stuff from your village, for those for whom climbin' won't be easy..."
But if not-- she sighs, looking down-- they can do like they did before, and rig the harness. As long as a rope is good and knotted they should be able to climb all right.
"On the other hand, if one or two of us goes to get supplies and your village is in trouble... better we stick together," she says. She turns back to the others. "We can rig a harness like we did before for any who have trouble climbin' down or up. It's slow, but we're in no hurry. My only worry is the chance of after-shocks an' all... or anything down in that crevasse that might be wanderin'."
Aurica stands at the edge of the chasm and peers down, squinting into the darkness.
Unless she sees something, Aurica starts knotting a rope. "Hey, Jens-- we could use your shield as sorta a, a platform, right? So Anevia could just sit on it, an' spare her leg bumpin' the rock like last time?"
"I would put us at about 15 minutes from Neathholm," Lann says after a few moments consideration. "Although no doubt longer than that if we have to accommodate for the injured in your group. Supplies like what you suggest would no doubt be available, given some time to find them. You would probably have some difficulty getting into the settlement without at least one of us with you, though..."
Aurica can see nothing wanderin' down at the bottom of the crevasse.
While walking, he turns to Crel. "Are you sure you're all right? I figure you should know, these earthquakes might be from the demons attacking Kenabres on the surface."
Crel waves off Voren's worries. "I'm fine, honestly." They are, however, quite interested to hear the news of the demon attack, news that causes the three mongrels to grow sombre immediately.
"That... would explain some things," Lann says quietly with a sad shake of his head. "Terrible news indeed... you must tell Chief Sull of this as soon as you can."
Jens walks in silence, listening to the conversation and taking note. He clears his throat none-too-subtly at Aravashnial's attempt to 'help', but otherwise interjects little into the conversation, allowing the others to ask their questions and get their answers. He remains focused on keeping everyone's wits about them, ever the strong, stoic one.
Upon reaching the chasm, he allows himself a silent sigh. "Come on," Jens says firmly, nodding at the 'First Descendants'. "We'll be best off staying together. It's just a crevasse, nothing we can't get past." He shrugs off his shield and pack, rummaging through for rope with a frown. "Well, it's not exactly a good shape for it," he says to Aurica, gesturing to the shield, "but it's big enough to sit on."
Listening to Aurica, Voren looks down the chasm again. "I-I suppose that might work. Maybe my scale can help as well."
" Or instead of trying to throw the hook and catch something from down in the ravine, Voren might levitate and with a running start glide across and secure the rope over there. Or not just a thought. Climbing isn't really one of my talents tho."
Aurica shrugs. "'s only ten feet across. We can throw a hook from here too, but we're still gonna have to climb down this side, an' climb up that side. Look, long as we knot a rope well, a child could climb it-- my worry's not the climbing, it's the notion of somethin' comin' at us while we're climbing."
She is busily knotting rope as she speaks. "Mayhap you two ought to keep your shields, in case somethin' does come at us. I'd hate for your protection to be lowerin' someone's rear end down," she cracks with a thin smile.
With one rope well knotted and tied to her grappling hook, Aurica sizes up the other side of the chasm for a place to lodge her hook, planning to let go of the rope and let it hang down on that side once she's got it secured.
She gives her rope several solid yanks before being satisfied, then tosses the rope down so that the far side of the chasm, at least, now boasts a knotted rope hanging there.
"Right. Who's carryin' the rest of all that rope we made a harness out of earlier? Somebody anchor yourself with it. I'll climb on down, keepin' an eye out, go up the other side... if nothin' comes out to eat me. If somethin' does... well, shoot it for me," Aurica says with a crooked grin.
Aurica spies a handy-dandy rocky outcropping that seems stable enough to hook her grappling hook to, and then tosses it over to the other side with finesse. It takes a couple of tries to get it in just the right position, but soon enough she gets it right in the centre, and a few tugs confirm it's pretty steady.
Someone else hands over their rope, helpfully knotted, and holds one end of it while Aurica makes her way down. There's a few heady moments where she fears something in the darkness, but it turns out to be nothing more than settling dust casting strange shadows in the flickering light from above. And, with her knotted rope on the other side, subsequent ascendancy is an easy task as well.
Of course... that's hardly the problem here.
Warily looking down the chasm as far as she can see, Aurica slips over to the other side and scales back up. At the top, she turns back and gives a thumbs-up symbol to the others.
"Well, nothin' came out to eat me. Who's next? Someone who can stay at the bottom, help people climbin' down who might have some trouble with it, an' then I can help haul people up on this side who need it, an' keep a weather-eye out for any trouble."
Got it. And I guess it is possible that those two will never get along - maybe I can vie for a begrudging acceptance of each other's presence, and that they will be better off assisting each other, instead of poking ;)
Just a note regarding the Diplomacy vs. Roleplaying - I was not hinting that it was happening with you or the players in this game - was just a 'sidenote'.
And yeah, I can see your point regarding the 'take 10' - I guess I feel the same way. I mean, people could arrange for an uncanny Diplomacy skill level - that's fine by me - but just using it like that is... Sad :/
"I'll go" - Reknar pipes in, beginning his descent.
" I'll guard this side 'til everyone else is across."
Flynn declares, looking with some trepidation at the ropes and chasm.
Not like climbing in scale mail is easy...
Aurica gives Flynn an approving nod at his statement of guarding. She provides helpful hints to the others as they climb-- 'there's a ledge right there by your foot, no, two inches left, there you go'-- and keeps a wary eye on the crevasse and a wary hand on her bow, just in case.
"Aravashnial-- we're just gonna have you get in that rope harness like we did for the climb up that all, alright sir? An' lower you on down..."
So it goes until the GIANT BATS ATTACK...
Voren waits until Aravashnial gets to the bottom. Then he proceeds to climb down, keeping a close eye out.
Alas(?), there are no giant bats in the general vicinity, although Aravashnial could probably summon one if you asked him nicely. With your ingenious rope-elevator system and some hard work, you are able to ferry your injured companions across the gap with minimal problems. The mongrels seem rather impressed at your ingenuity, and comment to that effect as they continue to lead you through the twisted tunnels that they apparently call home.
The tunnel continues along a mostly southeastern course (according to Aurica's makeshift magnet-compass!) for maybe twenty minutes before suddenly ballooning outwards into a circular cavern. Strangely enough, some kind of greenish-white fibrous plant material hangs down over the entrance like thin, rubbery vines. Lann waves the group to a halt and turns to face you, his expression serious.
"We come this way only because of dire necessity, and for good reason, for the cave ahead is the den of a dangerous fungal creature-- a spore-cougher." He continues on to describe a strange animate plant that can move of its own accord and spews forth gouts of nearly-invisible spores that cause hallucinations. "However, with you uplanders with us, I am sure that we can deal with the threat should it manifest."
"If we're lucky," Crel adds from beside him with a wry smile, "it will be out hunting elsewhere in the caves."
Once the party is ready to proceed, Lann leads you into the den of the spore-cougher. Pushing past the strange 'vines' leads you into a small, rounded cave maybe fourty feet in diameter. Thick sheets of fungus cling to the walls, while more of the bizarre white threads hang down from the cave ceiling like some kind of living stalactites. Several tunnels branch off in many directions, most appearing to lead deeper into the earth, although one to the north angles upwards.
What appear to be two dead bodies lie on the ground in the middle of the cave, lying still next to a strange heap of ropy green fungus. The two men are dressed in the typical garb of Iomedaean crusaders, with a sword-splashed tunic over glinting chain armour, their faces twisted into agonising grimaces that hint at the pain wracking them in the moments before death.
"Ahh. Alas, while I don't want to die like that, I don't think I can leave fellow servants of the Inheritor unburied and forgotten like that..." Flynn will stop and look around...
" What did you say this spore thrower looks like?"
Voren moves with the group, guiding Aravashnial. He looks in interest at the weird fungi. Hearing the description of the creature, he shakes in fear. "I don't want to find out what it is, if possible." He describes the sight to the elf. The witch turns to the Riftwarden. "Do you think we're able to take some of the fungi here?"
Lann reiterates his description of the beast to Flynn as he warily eyes the corpses. "The spore-cougher looks like something out of nightmares... it's like an upside-down darkmantle made from plant tissue growing from a lump of fungus. It walks on its spindling roots and thrusts spindly stamen into the mouths of its victims..." Flynn can't notice anything dangerous hanging around, at least.
Voren looks closely at the pile of green fungus lying next to the deceased men, and blinks. Huh. That... looks... kinda like what Lann is describing, provided you squint a little. Looks like it's been chopped up a fair bit, and its leaves have collapsed in on themselves... but it definitely could very well be this "spore-cougher".
He also keenly notices two things about the bodies. One, they seem to have fallen mid-battle, with a dark steel glaive in the hand of one and and what appears to be a potion vial in the gauntleted clutch of the other. And two, the one with the potion seems to be clutching something tightly in his other fist, even in death, though you would need to disturb the body to see just what exactly it is.
Aravashnial listens to the description of the fungi and then shrugs. "Perhaps? But what would you do with fungus?"
Voren shrugs a bit. "I do have some talent in alchemy. I figured I could use it for alchemic purposes"
***
Voren moves back slowly to the others, a look of fear on his face..
He whispers, "Guys. That patch of fungus over there. If you look at it right, it matches Lann's description. I mean, it looks like it's been chopped a fair amount and the leaves collapsed on themselves. But, it could be the creature. Also, the bodies seem to have fallen in mid-battle. One of them has a glaive. The other has a potion vial and something else in its other hand. We would need to disturb the body to see what it is. I'm too scared to touch it. What if the fungus is the spore-cougher?"
"Why would a crusader of the Inheritor carry a glaive? They almost invariably favour swords," Jens mutters, his thick eyebrows knitting in confusion. Glancing at the pile of fungus, he shrugs, turning his hard gaze back on the others. "Let's see if it's still alive, then."
Jens bravely and warily approaches the tangled mess of fungus and gives it a kick. Though a small cloud of blueish spores puffs up around his boots, the vegetable matter does not suddenly spring to life. It would probably look a little like this if it didn't have some fleshy fronds halfway eviscerated and dark scorch marks where magic seems to have hit it. The crusaders clearly did not go down without a fight.
Jens gently begins searching the bodies for signs of identification. The two men wore well-made chain-link armour below their tunics, but, as he quite rightly noticed, do not carry longswords on their person as is usual for the Inheritor's church. A magical scroll is located in a pouch hanging from the belt of one man, but no dog tags as one might expect from a soldier. As Voren noticed, the other clutches a potion of thin and watery consistency, and something else in his left hand. Carefully prying his rigor mortis-stiffened fingers, Jens tugs something small out from the dead man's grasp...
The old Ulfen warrior stares down at a curious sight indeed: a brass bull's head with tiny red gemstone eyes, about the size of his palm (or maybe a little smaller--Jens is pretty big, after all).
"Looks like all's clear," Jens calls back to the group, kicking the fungal mass aside, clearing room to crouch next to the bodies. Seeing nothing looking them over, he begins patting them down, taking a second to admire their chain armour - while he wouldn't consider taking the armour of the dead, it was still fine work. He takes the scroll, unfurls it, sees that it's written in magical symbols, and rolls it up again. He retrieves the potion from the dead man's right hand, and from his left...
He looks down at the small object, frowning darkly as the dim light seems to catch off the gemstone eyes. "Well, that's odd," he mutters to himself, before standing once more and heading back to the others.
"Your 'spore-cougher' is dead, Lamm. It appears our friends there took it down, but I'd wager they fell to the spores. This might have saved one of them-" he hands the potion over to Voren for identification "- but it seems he couldn't use it fast enough. They also had this, and this." He hands over the scroll, and holds up the brass bull's head. "No identifying personal effects, no tags, no crusader crosses. And if they followed Iomedae, they didn't do a very good job of holding onto their swords - they don't even have scabbards."
Aurica only looks bemused at the description of the odd plant creature...
She nods at Jens' suggestion-- rolls her eyes slightly at Voren's admission of his fear-- and gestures the Ulfen to go ahead, nocking an arrow. She'll cover his approach in case anything comes to life...
...but nothing does. When it seems clear that the threat here is not current, Aurica picks her way forward to join Jens in helping to scavenge what is valuable and to lay the brave crusaders to a more fitting end (these two goals are not mutually exclusive, in her mind).
She says a "Huh" at the bull-head, but has no recognition of what it might be.
"Poor bastards," she says with a cluck of her tongue. When she realizes Jens intends to leave the armor on them, Aurica shakes her head. "I mean no disrespect, but that's fine workmanship there on that chain-- and the living have more need for that than the dead do. Let's honor their memory and all-- Flynn, d'you... wanna say any words?-- but there are those among us, like Aravashnial and Mr. Gwerm and Anevia, who don't have any armor at all. Chain like this could turn a blade and save their lives."
Pragmatically, Aurica starts to remove the chain hauberks .
Hm... she rather thinks the chain shirt would fit her, come to think of it... a bit long, but what of human make isn't?
" Well. I don't actually use a sword much myself. But I've been trained to carry one, and up until today carried it incase of ceremony or show. It is suspicious that they don't have one. Also, as servitors of the Inheritor, I would at least expect a holy symbol of Our Lady."Glancing at the Bulls head medallion...
" This has the feel of a holy symbol. Especially since it appears he was holding it during the fight...Unless it was a magical item?"
Watching passively as Aurica begins to strip the bodies..
" I agree that the living need the armor and possibly weapons and gear more, but we should prepare the bodies and bury them, with respect if nothing else. I know time is an issue, so we should move with alacrity. Osric would you help?"
Voren breathes a sigh of relief at the fact that the spore-cougher is dead. When Jens shows the bull-head, he looks interest. "Odd. I know nothing of this." Hearing Flynn's request, Voren says a few words in Dwarven. His eyes glow teal.
Taking the potion, he focuses on it.
***
Seeing the fungus and the dead body of the spore-cougher, Voren still can't help himself. He pulls out his dagger. Turning to Aurica, Jens, and, surprisingly, Aravashnial, he says, "I was wondering if you could help me with something. I wish to harvest a good chunk of this fungi. Maybe I could get some use for my alchemy with them. Also, I was wondering if we could harvest some parts of the spore-cougher for alchemic uses as well."
He turns to Aurica. "I would appreciate your nature based knowledge and your skills in survival." He then turns to Jens. "As well as your survival skills." Finally, he nudges Aravashnial. "If I told you what I was looking at, do you think you could tell me more about it?"
, about the size of his palm (or maybe a little smaller--Jens is pretty big, after all).
Reknar stares at the brass symbol for a few moments, then turns to Jens.
"Why would a crusader of the Inheritor carry a glaive? They almost invariably favour swords,"
"I guess this one is even stranger to be carried by those who follow Iomedae... A symbol of Baphomet, Lord of the Minotaurs, demon lord of labyrinths and beasts as it is sometimes called - it makes no sense. The weapons and this" - he shrugs, then turns his attention to Aurica.
"Poor bastards," she says with a cluck of her tongue. When she realizes Jens intends to leave the armor on them, Aurica shakes her head. "I mean no disrespect, but that's fine workmanship there on that chain-- and the living have more need for that than the dead do. Let's honor their memory and all-- Flynn, d'you... wanna say any words?-- but there are those among us, like Aravashnial and Mr. Gwerm and Anevia, who don't have any armor at all. Chain like this could turn a blade and save their lives."
"Agreed. We need all the resources we can muster, and we cannot pass on good armour" - he adds, moving to assist her in retrieving whatever may be useful from the dead bodies.
" Well. I don't actually use a sword much myself. But I've been trained to carry one, and up until today carried it incase of ceremony or show. It is suspicious that they don't have one. Also, as servitors of the Inheritor, I would at least expect a holy symbol of Our Lady."Glancing at the Bulls head medallion...
" This has the feel of a holy symbol. Especially since it appears he was holding it during the fight...Unless it was a magical item?"
Turning to Flynn, the man adds - "Well, if it was being used as some sort of holy symbol, then... It makes even less sense, being one pertaining some to sort of demon lord" - he nods at the brass symbol.
"As for burying them... Yeah, why the hell not? We can do that"
Osric first pales at the sight of the unholy symbol, then his face flushes. He speaks through clenched teeth.
"It's possible that thing was seized from the enemy. But...it's even more likely these two were imposters, or traitors.
He spits on the ground.
"We've had our share of demon cultists in the church. Comes with living close to the Wound. But it makes it no easier to find them. Well...since we don't know for certain, we ought to give them last rites. But burial here? Do we risk the delay?"
"Cultists of Baphomet?" Aurica echoes, and looks as if she's almost not so sure about wearing this armor after all. But then, she has it half on already...
She does spit onto the stone though, for good measure.
"If they served the demons, then to hell with burial rites for them," she grunts, and wrestles the chain shirt the rest of the way down. It's nice. Light. Moves with her.
She sizes up Horgus-- no, no way, not with his girth-- and Aravashnial is much too long and lanky-- before approaching Anevia.
"...I know it's not much, but d'you want to tie this hide cuirass down over your own clothes? It's a little protection. It won't fit you well, but then, none of you are dwarves, so it won't fit any of you well. ...sorry about the blood stains."
At Voren's request, she gives the tiefling a long look. She can accept, perhaps, that he means no harm, but... doesn't mean she's ready to do him any favors, either.
"Alchemical, huh. Like what? Poisons?" she asks, not saying no but not saying yes either.
Jens shrugs as Aurica and Reknar begin stripping the corpses. "You won't hear me argue. If it's better than what we have, take it."
Turning to Reknar, he nods slowly. "He was holding it as if it would save his life. I've seen men die clutching symbols of their gods in the same way. Osric's right - I've heard whispers of such things, but never knew whether to believe them. If they were traitors, they're carrion now." He btakes one more glance at the 'holy symbol', then tucks it into a side-pouch of his pack. If anyone were to carry such an unholy thing, it may as well be him. "They carry a symbol of Baphomet, and no signs of longswords. I'd wager Baphomet's faithful prefer glaives. We should move on, and leave them to feed the worms."
Turning to Aurica and Jens, Reknar nods - "No way to be sure if they were or not, but glaives are usually weapons favored by Baphomet's worshippers, so this all smells kinda funky to me in all honesty" - he then looks at Osric and Flynn - "But if you boys wanna perform last rites, burial prayers and all that, fine by me - I'm not the most religious type, but isn't everyone entitled a chance for redemption or something like that? Even if it is in the Afterlife? I have kinda been counting on that" - he smiles.
At Lann and Crel he adds - "Besides we shouldn't be far from your home, correct? You think delaying an hour or so here would be much of a problem?"
Voren looks to the others. "The potion is a potion of cure light wounds."
Voren looks to Aurica. "Yes. Poisons can be crafted through alchemy. There may be some poisonous fungi here. But, alchemy can create other things. Things like reagents, medicines, balms, and the like. If my skills improve, then I'll be able to craft potions for us. However, to craft anything, I need ingredients. And an alchemist's lab, which I don't have access to. But that doesn't mean I can't collect ingredients for the future. It's just that I'm not too well versed in the natural world. So, will you help me?"
***
Hearing about the Cult of Baphomet makes Voren uncomfortable and it shows in his body language. He shuffles and shifts around, looking around quickly, as if he expects an ambush. "Well, if we're taking some time to bury the cultists and perform last rites, then we should get it done quickly."
Aurica frowns. "Redemption's one thing, but they're dead. They can plead their case to Pharasma or whoever when they get there. If someone wants to say a few words of a prayer, fine, but we've got injured--" she tilts her head at Anevia and Aravashnial "--so I'm not inclined to dally around buryin' demon-worshippers. These folk want to get back to their home."
To Voren, Aurica gives another long look before grunting and moving near the pile of planty material. She draws her dagger as she goes.
"Right. Well. I know surface plants-- never dealt much with cave plants, t'tell you the truth," she mutters, but she crouches by the spoer-cougher remains and looks them over.
Voren gives a smile as he takes his dagger and works with her for the harvest.