"We're sure we've done everything we need to do here? Probably won't be a chance to come back once the fireworks launch and our carnage is discovered."
"Let's look at the last few rooms in this tower to be sure no children are hiding and left behind." Quinn tries to lead the group back to the second floor kitchen before the assault on the columns.
Hektir spits, giving a glare at Quinn, angry at having his orders questioned.
"Who cares, Quinn? Let's get out of here...get columns done with and get out. Them columns are going to be a b%!@% to fight as it stands, without warring with whatever kitchy-witchy warriors wait."
"I believe the bigger concern, Hektir my lad, is what if there is a witch in the kitchen cooking children right now? Don't you want to make sure all the children are safe and accounted for?" Malavarius chuckles, "Do you know, Zeno, I almost said 'witchen in the kitchen'. Ha! Ha ha! What a delightfully silly phrase."
"Oh for heavens' sake. Ask the children if they're missing anyone. If not, let's go. Something about the oven makes me pause about getting anywhere near it. And might I remind you- we're done here. The whole point of our invasion here was to end the dragon. We've done that. We are wasting time. The fireworks are meant to be launched. Mal, why don't you take the children to the dragon's lair, and launch the fireworks for their personal enjoyment? Hektir, let's settle our affairs with the columns."
Barring objections, Tsin makes her way to the front doors, and waits for Hektir to join her.
Hektir assents, knowing a good plan when he hears one (like his own).
"Let me borrow a weapon or two for the fight, Tsin. I won't wield it well, but my last sword broken against them and I'll not have that happen again to this one."
Hektir removes his shield, intending to two-hand whatever weapon he does get from Tsin.
Tsin turns to Hektir. "Use this." She tosses him the hammer she's forgotten all about.
When Pems and Mal are safely in the rear, then she opens the front door to advance, gaining confidence that the greatsword will serve its purpose.
Hektir hefts the adamantine warhammer with a spit, and a cross look on his face.
"This? I can't use this. It's unbalanced and unwieldy," Hektir grumps, looking over Tsin stash of weapons for something else.
"Oh, come now. We don't have time to hollow out the troll skulls for you to wear like boxing gloves. The hammer becomes you, somehow. It's quite... artis-anal. What, do you expect a chisel to go along with it? The columns won't hold that still, I'm afraid."
Hektir takes the hammer again, and with a few more practice swings, relents enough to nod his assent to Tsin.
"Let's go."
Malavarius offers his staff as Hektir frowns at the hammer. "Perhaps this will serve you better, lad? It's just a simple walking stick, but it can be temporarily invested with magics if you'd like."
Hektir upturns his nose up at the offer of the spanking stick as if Mal was offering one of Quinn's hand with which to slap at the statue. He keeps with the hammer, but would love it enchanted.
"You say you can magickify this hammer? That might work better...I think your staff would shatter under the weight of my blows and the toughness of them statues."
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Tsin nods approvingly as Mal greases Hektir's hammer.
"But, but, but, what if children are being kept captive in the larder of the kitchen? We can't leave wee ones behind, we're heroes, we have to check!" Quinn looks to Hektir for support.
Malavarius shrugs, "As you like it, my boy." He produces a bottle of the oil and pours it unceremoniously over the head of the hammer. "You best hurry now. These magics are rather fleeting, I'm afraid." Turning to Quinn then, he continues, "Now why don't you help an old man back up those gods forsaken stairs, hmm? We can ask Bella and the children if they're all accounted for and, if not, we'll take a peek in that larder."
"Thank you, Mal. The pouring of the potion is the sand through the hourglass. It allows us to focus on the task at hand. Just wait for us before checking for a larder."
Tsin steps with purpose, her armor slowing her normally quick pace.
Malavarius' eyes widen as Tsin mentions a larder, as if he himself hadn't just said the word moments before, "Oh? There's a larder is there? You don't suppose there might be the makings for a sandwich inside, do you? I would rather like a good sandwich, now that I think about. Hmpf. Come along, Quinn, we're going someplace I don't recall for purposes beyond my recollection, but maybe there'll be sandwiches on the way."
Zeno feigns death atop Quinn's opposite shoulder, his wing falling over his face in the most melodramatic fashion.
Hektir hefts the heavy hammer, honing in on the statues, moving quickly to flank.
"You don't suppose there might be the makings for a sandwich inside, do you?"
Tsin wrinkles her nose at the thought. "Yes, Mal. Makings, likely, but do remember that any sweat breads you find withing this tower is likely to derive from children's glands and pancreases, not lambs'. Unless you have a taste for that, in which case we'll need to have a talk."
She turns back to the more reasonable halfling. "Pems, would you be so kind as to impair the statues? Your glares are quite a thing."
As Hektir seeks flank, Tsin finds herself moving to either beat him to it, or join him as he beats her to it.
As Mal, Quinn and Pems dither, Hektir flings the door open to find the two statues waiting outside in ambush.
Hektir:
Malavarius:
Pemsworth:
Quinn:
Tsin:
Antagonist:
Round 1, Init 11
AC = 21
HP = 28/48
Weapon Equipped = +1 Greatsword
[b]Condition(s)[b] = None
Frustrated that the columns weren't returned to their former positions, Tsin moves up along Hektir's side to prevent the columns from getting inside. She focuses fire on the same statue Hektir bludgeons.
Round 1, Init 16
If Hektir seems surprised that the statues lie in wait, he does not reveal it by dithering, moving to flank for Tsin and attacking with the adamantine warhammer.
to hit;
adamantine damage.
As the statuary crumbles Malavarius grumbles about the poor state of affairs the world is slipping into, garden statues can't even be trusted any more, as he heads back up the stairs to Bella and the liberated children. With the children gathered, he then leads them up to the dragon's former lair and watches with delight as they watch the fireworks zip off into the air with loud whizzes and whirrs, pops and crackles. He laughs audibly as they all coo when the fireworks explode then quickly frowns, "Do you know, I think I could do better than that. That one was rather small and unspectacular I'm afraid."
Hektir spits as he stands over the statue, handing the hammer back to Tsin.
"Thanks, that did the job."
He looks over the statue and the once-hurriedly-passed-through garden for loot or things of interest/danger.
Perception
"Let the fireworks and children taken care of. Thing should get interesting now."
Hektir goes to keep watch at the front gates, making sure no trolls or witches approach while he awaits getting the children out.
Tsin looks down at the damaged blade, somewhat glad it's not her personal weapon. She takes the hammer from Hektir, impressed that the adamantine did such damage. "Glad you reminded me we even had the item. I'll be better next time about keeping it close by for bashing instead of slicing." Tsin looks over the rubble, not fully convinced the statues aren't like the trolls in regenerative properties.
"I thought I heard a firework from on high. The rest should join us before long." Tsin keeps a look out from the front doors, making sure to wave to the others when they make the foot of the stairs. She keeps an eye on Hektir, should he encounter anything at the gate.
"Shouldn't be long, you think? Are we to return the woman first, then make our way into the forestation?"
"Shouldn't be long, you think? Are we to return the woman first, then make our way into the forestation?"
Hektir spits, giving Tsin a look.
She should know better.
"Children come first. Then the women. Then maybe some beer and ale...we've done much this day. Then we handle the forest, I think."
"Beer and ale, that sounds like a great plan!"
"Come along now, children. Downstairs. Yes, yes, that is the burnt and stinking remains of a troll. Yes, I did shoot some of them fire. What? Heaven's no! Why would you want to eat a troll? That's a horrible idea, lad! Hmm? What's that? Oh yes, that granny nan witch has been dealt with too."
"Now children, when we get downstairs, there may a frightful thing. And no matter how bad it smells, you can be sure that Hektir is not a troll. Here we are. Come on then, let's get outside and get you back to safety." Malvarius begins counting the heads of the children as they pass and raises his eyebrows in alarm when he realizes he has one more child in tow than he started with.
"Pemsworth! What are you doing milling about in there! You threw off my count, don't you know." Malavarius chuckles and shakes his head at the halfling then follows the children out into the yard.
Pems rolls his eyes at Malavarius, then shakes his head and mutters to Zeno, "You'd think the facial hair would distinguish me from children, you know."
Moving closer to Tsin and Quinn and Hektir, he asks in a low voice, "Do you think that the resistance could take these children in? If most of them are orphans I'd hate for them to be rescued only to end up back here or some other stinking place."
"I suppose you can ask them, master Pems, but ours is not nursery business. Considering the oath on our blood, you'll very likely find yourself never returning to find out what's become of these urchins. Be glad that you gave them a fighting chance to survive a second time in their life. First childbirth, now liberation from troll pantry."
Tsin readies to escort the singer back to her lover.
By the time you emerge from the tower, the sounds of upheaval can be heard across the city, along with plumes of smoke rising at various points. It seems your mission has been a success and the Iron Guard has risen up, distracting the Winter Guard.
Skirting fighting, you make your way with the orphans and Bella back to the Shrine of the Everbloom, where you're warmly greeted by Solveig Ayrdahl, the cleric of Milani. She and Bella share a warm embraces and she ushers the children and you into the shrine, promising she will do her best to care for the youths.
"Now, if you need to rest, you're welcome to stay and rest here in the shrine, though I don't know how long the uprising will last," she says.
She looks anxious as if she wishes she could get out herself into the fighting.
Hektir enters last, making sure the women and children get in first. He takes the time to hide any obvious trails into the safehouse before he enters.
"That went well," Hektir says with a manly spit and clasping Quinn on the back. Despite his earlier reservations about the man, and considering his past history, Hektir finds Quinn growing on him. "You all did well. Very well. None of us could have done that alone...and because we did what we did, we are closer to setting right what has gone awry. Them witches will continue to pay."
Hektir 'accidentally' finds himself flexing and posturing as he speaks, his eyes furtively seeing if Solveig and Bella notice his manly muscles and rugged good looks.
Thank you, Solveig, you are very kind to host us in this shrine. We shan't wait too long, but we'll need to regain our strength before we enter the forest." Tsin removes her armor, and takes whatever means of cleaning herself, to rinse off the blood and sweat, and the stink of troll.
Tsin returns to find Mal, blade in hand. "I was studying your work, master wizard. Words can't express my admiration, Mal." She smiles, tapping the edge of the blade. "As Quinn bolstered it with flame, I caught a glimpse of... something. I don't think it was in front of me, but rather... behind my eyes. It glowed, so briefly I had to blink my eyes just to retain its pattern, but memory serves me well."
Delicately, Tsin traces a quick pattern on her falchion, and a rune appears, glowing ember red. The blade obtains a similar fiery cast, lasting for almost half a minute's time, then fades.
She smiles, and turns back to Mal. "It should serve, at least until we can forge something more permanent, don't you think?"
...
Tsin makes her rounds, checking on her horses her companions, Hektir and Quinn flexxing and reminiscing, Mal and Zeno bickering and flummoxing each other, so she decides to join Pems in his quiet contemplations.
"You are quite the understated ally, master Pems. You are able in your gaze to hinder others five times your size. That is quite impressive. Are you finding our oath bearable so far? Is there anything you would see us do differently? Are you missing Heldren?"
Pems smiles somewhat sadly at Tsin. "When I was a lad, my dad used to tell me stories of adventures. I always wanted to go on one." He looks off south, toward their homes. "Now that I am on one, I find myself missing my home less and less. I wonder if the road washes away the memories of home. Or if I am changing? Perhaps a home is something you can outgrow?"
"Ah! Marvelous, my dear! Look at that! Ha ha!" Malavarius laughs with delighted approval as he claps Tsin on the shoulder. "Do you know, I was inspired by our freeing of the clocktower as well? Especially that dragon. Frightful business, dragons." He waves Tsin over and gestures to his open spellbook, the thick tome nearly three quarters of the way full of thin, spidery scrawls. He taps on the open page, but the arcane symbols seem as naught but jibberish with an unaided glance. "While this won't do for imbuing your sword, I think this spell might do quite well with smaller items, like Quinn's crossbow bolts or Pemsworth's sling stones. It's not overly impressive, I know, but it might help me figure out how to better and more permanently invest that fine sword of yours." He smiles warmly and excuses himself as he goes to find a hot bowl of stew or broth to warm his old bones.
"When I was a lad, my dad used to tell me stories of adventures. I always wanted to go on one." He looks off south, toward their homes. "Now that I am on one, I find myself missing my home less and less. I wonder if the road washes away the memories of home. Or if I am changing? Perhaps a home is something you can outgrow?"
Tsin nods in shared experience with the halfling. "I think you are changing, to say the least of it." Zeno catches her eye, and she continues her thought. "I imagine that a bird's nest is quite comfortable to the chick. Food brought straight to you, downy feathers keeping you warm at night. Only after you've taken to great heights would you consider the nest a small thing. Perhaps your memories of home simply appear dim against the brightness of your whole life flashing before your eyes on several occasions." She attempts gallows humor, and is not altogether disappointed in her try. "As for outgrowing one's home, I suppose so. Certainly if you feel that life has more to offer than some perfunctory community role."
...
Tsin wrinkles her nose as she looks over Mal's shoulder, and understands none of his writings. None of those scrawlings will stay put in my mind. "I can certainly see how your mind can stay occupied with such studies. That hurts to look at." That might explain why your brain is so often distracted. It's everything for Zeno to keep you in the moment, when your mind must want to drift back to these pages of yours to ruminate.
She nods courteously as the old man excuses himself. It gives her the opportunity to return to her equipment, and clean through the ridges of her armor, and polisharpen her blade for the work to come.
Once back and relaxing, Hektir takes out his sword and begins to fix it. Both by sheer will and determination and through his understanding of natural magics, his blade will be whole again.
He takes pride in his work, wishing he had the ability to fashion such things on his own...but lacks the skill and training to do such. However, fixing it and following the pattern of the metals is something he can do. He enjoys the quiet work.
Hektir spits, pushing himself into the conversation as he works.
"I'm going to find me a new home when we finish all this...a good home with a good wife or two. Gunna have me strong children who are going to live free. And maybe they will kill witches too."
"That I don't doubt." Pems smiles at Hektir. "I foresee your children will be quite the handful!"
Tsin turns from Pems to address Hektir, who seems to be speaking out loud to himself. "Strong like bull, these future children of yours, eh? These women you picture, they part of a good stable? Will it be attached to your home, or will you need to leave the comfort of your home to bring them their oats?" Polyamory, really? He'll need to grab them young, before they know any better. Poor girls. "I suppose like anything in life, it's always good to check the teeth. And the udders. Can't forget the udders now. Strong children and all." She turns back to Pems with a wink, before she listens for Hektir's philosophical take on harems.
Hektir levels a gaze at Tsin.
"It's too bad that you think a woman can't make up her own mind about how she wants to live...nor can she decide on her own to enter into a more open marriage," Hektir spits, taking in the edges of his blade. "For me, I think womanfolk can be as free and independent as any man...and can make up their own minds for what they want to do."
Hektir wipes off his blade to clean off his work to begin again.
"I never figured you for a misogynist, Tsin. Or is it that you're a misogamist? Maybe you don't believe in marriage at all?" Hektir replies, unaware that Tsin thought so little of her own gender until now.
Tsin rolls her eyes as Hektir predictably fires back. "Yes, Hektir, please tell a woman what she thinks, instead of allowing her to speak for herself." She picks up a bowl of soup as well, and blows on it to cool it to taste.
"Why are you arguing with yourself? You were discussing bride purchase and working teeth not so long ago. Why would you think to buy a wife, when she would be as free and independent as you say? Or now that you add your coins together, you think you'll be able to buy more than one, eh?" She sips lightly, and smiles, bringing another couple of spoonfuls to her mouth.
"And why is it, I wonder, that men never think about sharing a woman? You and Quinn could halve your expense, if you agreed to bed the bride every other night."
"You need not trouble yourself with my beliefs in marriage, and I think I will stop troubling myself with yours. Just remember that your eyes are bigger than your stomach, and likely other organs as well."
"That sounds like a dreadful arrangement, especially with my struggles remembering the day of the week."
Hektir continues on.
"You so worried about finding a husband, are you, Tsin, that you have nothing else to take your mind?"
If all women prattle and nag as she does, maybe I will skip the wives altogether and just find a noose for a lifetime companion.
"Yes, Hektir. I can think on nothing else. It was only convenient that you continue to yap about your desires so I may exert my opinion where I will. How clever of you to once again read my mind."
Tsin reclines languidly, and closes her eyes.
"When do we depart? After you finish stroking your blade, Hektir?" At least there will be an end to his bladework, once it's repaired. There's no end to his need to stroke his ego.
Pems sits there, trying to keep his face from breaking into a grin as Tsin and Hektir engage in verbal foreplay.