As the party enter, they see several trolls sitting at an enormous spruce dining table. They appear to be engaged in a game of chance that revolves around speed, dice, and lopping off other players’ fingers with a hatchet! A salted goat carcass sits on one end of the table.
An ugly one-eyed troll sitting in one of the elevated seats like an Abadarian judge, watches them and laughs. “Bluebeard gonna win this! Shrakas approve.”
He throws back an ale from a mountain-goat’s horn and turns to his left. “I told you this would be fun, Hroku!”
Perched atop a chair next to the troll leader is a creature with a stag's body, a bat’s wings and claws, and the head of a slavering hellhound with a double-rack of sharp antlers and bony thorns on its brow. The abomination cackles at the trolls’ pain as they lose and regenerate fingers.
The map at the top has been updated.
You think the creature is a giant Mwangi horned slug. It is immune to attacks from creatures with the Plant sub-type but vulnerable to salt.
Unusual to see them so far north at this time of year …
Varg does not get too far into the hall on the right, when the black-eyed troll takes a
“My Warlord,” he begins. “I smell the hoppy aroma of the most rad-smelling ale on the breath of some creature! Perhaps the others have returned?”
His green-eyed neighbour from across the table scoffs at this but a moment later *gasps*
“Could it be spies from His Dread and Aweful Majesty, checking up on ...?”
⛷⛸⛷⛸
The ugly red-eyed troll puts his drinking horn down calmly and takes the time to wipe his mouth and hands on some roughspun cloth before continuing.
The troll boss *SLURPS* up a morsel of goat-fat caught in his chest hair.
He addresses the far side of the Hall.
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Assuming they are evil (there will be a slight modification if they are not):
Can we see each other while invisible? I didn't think so, but I'm not 100% certain about that.
Why are we waiting? No one's attacking? No one's talking? .... Oh - they must be waiting on me!
Aakif clears his throat and speaks in a loud voice: "Mighty King, we are emmisaries from the nearby Orc kingdom. We are here to offer an alliance with the orcs against the Giants. If you are currently allied with the Giants, we will give you a moment to reconsider your allegiance before we deliver the next part of our message."
That personal cheque is now in the mail....
Natural 20! That cheque was totally worth it!
Shrakas rises suddenly and walks forward a few steps. His soldiers move to follow, but their leader sits them back down again with a slow, downward thrust of his massive claws.
“Whoa whoa, fellas! The mice and me are cool. Ain’t we mice? You’re gonna be cool too, like three little Iroris.”
The troll picks his teeth with an iron poker as he speaks. “I tell you plainly, minstrel, priest, holy warrior – whatever you are – that I am not some serving girl whose drawers can be removed with pretty words. Tell it to me straight. I am listening.”
“What have you to offer the Mighty Shrakas?”
While Shrakas’ simple crew are spoiling for a fight, their leader is currently prepared to listen and bargain.
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Caradeum looks at Aakif, his lower jaw jutting out a bit, and nods while raising his eyebrows. Motioning toward the troll with one hand, Caradeum silently urges Aakif to keep speaking with one hand, while his other hand reaches into his spell component pouch, feeling around for the correct focuses for a spell.
Shrakas probably realizes you’re in scent range of his lackeys.
The Evil in the room sends the needle spinning in your shining wayfinder like a top in the Eye of Abendego!
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Yikes. Aakif shows his shining wayfinder to his allies while he continues speaking.
How does he know about the serving girl???
"This is what we propose, mighty Shrakas: The orcs have powerful allies, and they are likely to defeat the giants. Instead of joining the giants in defeat, you can join the orcs in victory! The orcs are prepared to offer you a sizable portion of the giant's territory as your own. The orcs do not need, nor do they want all of the land that is currently controlled by the giants. Think about this - you can expand your kingdom and also have orc allies to help defend your borders! You lose nothing, but gain much!"
Aakif pauses to determine the troll king's reaction, then continues.
"The orcs are already looking for allies to hold lands once the giants are defeated. You could be one of the first allies, and as such will have one of the larger kingdoms to rule!"
“You sound human, Master Silvertongue.”
The troll looks back at his bat-winged companion. “Unusual for Councillor Bravok’s envoy to not be a half-orc, wouldn’t you say Hroku?”
The winged thing responds with a crazed *gigglaugh*.
He turns back to address the southern end of the Hall. “For the sake of argument, let’s say I believe you have the authority to speak for the Averakan Council and make the offer you just have, Chief Negotiator …”
“WHAT IS IT YOU WANT IN RETURN?”
Aakif, please roll Bluff.
Roll Knowledge (nobility)
OR Knowledge (local)
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Weiman, being the only 20ft move man, looks to climb on the cat for movement-based efficiency. He otherwise remains silent for Stealth purposes (which is, as of yet, the only reason he's ever been quiet.
-Posted with Wayfinder
The metal ‘poker’ Shrakas is picking his teeth with is actually a longsword.
The sword bears the same maker’s mark as the falchions Kommandant Tusk-Breaker and Lieutenant Zayas of Goose Company were carrying.
The blue-eyed troll growls at Aakif’s offer. “Shrakas, you let that nimrod have anythin’ worth sumptin’, and I’ll kill ‘em all meself!”
Shrakas responds immediately and calmly. “Whoa, whoa! Mice? Hey, mice! Point your weapons back at me … Good.”
The one-eyed troll is not impressed with his subordinate’s attempts to help.
He turns back in the direction of the party. “Mice? How we doing, fellas? Master Silvertongue, tell your rodent-buddies that you love them. Go on now.”
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Aakif holds up one finger, asking his companions to wait just a bit more.
"Want? We want you to help us when we confront the giants. The more help you provide, the more land you will be given when the giants are defeated. We have skilled healers that can make you temporarily immune to fire, so you really wouldn't even be risking your lives."
Aakif gestures towards his companions, hoping they will add to the diplomacy.
Shrakas stares in disbelief. “Help you ‘confront the giants.’ Is that what you said, King Rat?”
In frustration he ROARS.
He pauses to calm himself before he can trust himself to continue. “Yesterday, I sent a strike-force of three of my best ogres to take out one of the king’s scout-snipers who is operating out of some old giant-constructed ruins not far from here. They are a coupla hours overdue on returning from the mission …”
With hands on hips he eyes the end of the hall with a doubtful expression. “As a show of good faith, if you can eliminate our mutual enemy and bring me back some proof of its demise, we can talk some more about a meeting with Councillor Bravok to discuss a treaty.”
“I can supply you with a map of the ruin’s location to speed up your mission. Time is of the essence if there’s any chance of saving my squad in the field.”
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Fendahl remains silent, contemplating the options...he internalizes the the motions of Aakif and Caradeum and Varg.
Hrmm, I cannot honor any deal with these vile creatures, no matter the cost. But I will not interfere with the negotiations. I feel we cannot trust them, but to fight them now could jeopardize the mission.
“Whadya want, now? A calling card?”
Shrakas looks fit to be tied, but then seems to have a change of heart. “Suuuure, Master Silvertongue. I can do that.”
The troll *snaps* his fingers and points at Bluebeard. Hroku takes to the air as one of the trolls grabs his blue-eyed compatriot in a vicious armlock before SLAMMING his head down onto the table with his head turned to the left.
The black-eyed troll uses his own body to immobilise Bluebeard’s other arm, while his clawed hands keep his brother’s head still. The winged beast hovers over the struggling troll *cackling* and *gurgling* with glee.
“Just his eyes, Hroku.” Shrakas smashes Bluebeard’s chair against a wall before impaling a tiny sheet of vellum on the stag fiend’s antlers as it lands on the dining table. The troll lord then proceeds to gouge a crude pattern into the broken chairs’s seat, his single eye moving from the improvised wooden tablet to the vellum sheet attached to Hroku’s bobbing head.
“Gorgnak’s Balls, Hroku! I said just his eyes! Bah, they’ll recognize the handiwork that’s for sure.”
“I'M DONE TALKING.” The troll says matter-of-factly, taking a sticky handful of Bluebeard’s face and smearing it on the wooden seat, before hurling it in the rough direction of the party.
“I’ve carved a map on the side that isn’t sticky. The ogres’ll know it’s from me. Now get out and sort that intruder in the ruins, before I change my mind about this.”
Following Shrakas’s disgusting map, you make your way towards the ruins ...
The muddy path leads into a large circular clearing, free of the boulders and trees that adorn most of the mountainside. In the center of the clearing, the last embers of a fire burn underneath charred logs. A haphazard pile of grimy furs and skins covers the ground near the fire pit. To the north, a ten-foot-wide tunnel leads into the mountain, but a pile of rubble blocks the tunnel's entrance entirely.
You can see that a two-headed giant rests here along with three ogres.
You clearly hear a pair of the ogres speaking to each other.
One says, "I could swear it was lookin' at me."
The other responds, "Wasn't lookin' at you. Didn't have a head."
"But I felt it lookin' at me."
An ogre with a sickly-green complexion pipes up nervously, “Pahg-Vahr, did you hear that? Could be an orc scout.”
“OF COURSE ME HEARD IT, SAWN-OFF SCUM!” The ettin’s red-eyed right head yells in response. “WHEN ME WANT YOUR OPINION … ME WILL GIVE IT TO YOU!”
The left head counters evenly, “Pahg … Kermit was only trying to help. There’s no need to bite his head off.”
“WHO DIED AND MADE YOU XIN? YOU NOT TELL ME WHAT TO DO, VAHR!”
Ettin pic linked at top of page.
The symbols on the face of the angry ettin’s head are the Thassilonian runes for wrath and sloth.
The ettin’s angry head yells out into the night in the direction of the Pathfinders. “YOU COME WORK FOR ME, ORC!! DIG, DIG OR ME SNAP YOUR SCRAWNY NECK LIKE TWIG!”
The other head *sighs* “You’re so angry lately, Pahg. Do you even realize? I think it’s about time you spoke to someone about getting some help.”
again!
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"I do not think we tell them anything. These are not honorable creatures."
Assuming we need a better look to see the creatures (or if the treeline is not blocking LoS?) Fendahl moves effortlessly into the underbrush to see who is speaking.
Fendahl nods at Varg and will cast strongjaw on Kirrah and motion for her to get ready to attack.
The second head pleads with the voices in the darkness. “PLEEEASE! SHE DOESN’T MEAN IT … Well, that’s not true. Actually she does. But it would be better if you help us.”
Pahg wishes to kill you! And while Vahr dislikes the shorter races, she is desperate for any assistance.
The rulers of Thassilon, a group of powerful wizards known as runelords, developed a curse that they used to force giants into slavery.
Giants under the influence of such a curse, manifested runes on their bodies.
The worried ettin’s head continues “You shouldn’t threaten to eat potential employees before they’ve signed on, Pahg.”
Weiman believes the rune on Pahg’s forehead is *glowing* like a Crystalhue light, to remind the ettin that the festival is only six weeks away.