Maellyra considers what Spitter has to say before coming up with a half thought-out scheme. "What if you looked as they do? Would they be inclined to listen to you, then?" To show that her questions were not just idle musings at a most inappropriate time, she continues, "The wand Bassy gave you, Ro'gram... Is there magic left in it? If so, and it can make you look human, Spitter should easily be able to change the color of his scales."
"Ooo. He could blend right in!"
"There's one charge left. I could use it to change you to look like them." he offers.
After a second. "And I am a skilled trapper. Better than your average kobold, at least."
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"Man, that's one big chameleon."
There were times, like these, where Pavo just couldn't help himself.
Amazed the others would consider wasting such magic on him, Spitter smiles and shakes his head sadly.
"Thank you pink-skins, but I doubt it would make much difference: Everyone in the tribe knows all the others pretty well. They would most likely still know me as an outsider. My color, while odd to them, is strangely irrelevant here. An outsider is an outsider, even with other green-scales. Unless they make me part of the tribe, which is only possible if the chieftain agrees to it, would I ever be truly trusted, and I'm not really in a hurry to do that right now. Anyway, whether you believe it or not...my kind does not all look alike to each other. Scale coloration is not often varied among a singular tribe as you suspected, but there are also subtle differences among my kind and the other scaled races that you would overlook I think that we notice immediately."
Better than your average kobold? Maellyra looks from Ro'gram to Spitter. He seems a fairly average kobold to the witch, perhaps even above average. But he wasn't very helpful in dismantling the last trap they had come across, so the rougarou's answer doesn't inspire much confidence. But they had to work with what they had. "Hopefully this is a tribe full of average kobolds," she says in a misguided attempt at encouragement.
Although it's difficult to tell, Maellyra's face falls as her idea is dismissed. "What do you suggest, then?"
Spitter looks a little distressed.
"While situations have come up like this in our history, I have never witnessed one. Most pink-skins exterminate my kind like...vermin. Not talk to them. I can only say...be direct? Be honest? If they catch us lying at all, we'll be swarmed immediately. Assuming they will even listen to us in the first place of course. Even if they listen to us, I'm not even sure the chieftain will talk to us directly, or if he will use an intermediary in order to protect himself from our potential threat. There are just too many variables until I know more."
"Direct and honest huh? No worries then, that's my specialty. Why just ask that mountain of a man at the smithy" Pavo said with his usual grin.
Spitter's words echoed over and over in Pavo's head as they walked. When they arrived, he wasted no time in calling out to the kobold guards. "Greetings great warriors. We come seeking an audience with your powerful chief" he shouted.
Of course he hadn't really thought out this plan and the sound of his voice reverberated off of the quarry walls and caves likely announcing their presence to all manner of creatures in the area.
The kobold guards hunker down and scan the area. They whisper among each other.
"There were four."
"Three!"
"What do we do?"
"You two, go alert the tribe."
One sticks his head up and shouts back.
In the split second between realizing what Pavo was about to do and him actually doing it, Maellyra considers hiding behind an outcropping of rocks and waiting out the hail of arrows that was likely to rain down upon them. However, Spitter's advice that they be honest and forthcoming with the kobold tribe makes her reconsider and choose to stand beside her friends.
Straining her ears, Maellyra is just able to pick out what the kobolds are whispering amongst themselves and conveys it to the group in whispered Common. "They think there's only three of us, two have been sent to alert the rest of the tribe, and they ask that we leave now or else be attacked."
Maellyra comes to a stop, neither advancing nor retreating. Rather, she looks to Spitter and waits to follow his lead.
Leng hangs back and tries to look unobtrusive, which he's surprisingly pretty good at - when he's not swinging around his bladed chain, that is.
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Spitter grimaces.
"Yes. Pretty typical response."
He moves to pat Pavo on the arm and nods casually.
"Decent introduction my friend Pavo! Now, let me take it from here."
Spitter then moves only a little closer and fluttering his mini-wings to make sure they see them, Spitter prays a quick prayer under his breath to the Voice in Thunder. He then gestures back to Pavo.
The kobolds look a little perplexed, but they also relax just slightly. One shouts back in Draconic, "What kind of trick is this? Are you their slave?" One of the kobolds slinks backward into one of the cave mouths. The other three do not seem to notice.
"Why would the pink-skins offer a truce after what happened?"
Spitter shrugs obviously and points the tip of his staff at the speaking kobolds.
Half-turning, he hesitates.
"Or should I return and tell the pink-skins the Blood-Vow do not wish to talk...?"
The first two guards who went to tell the rest of the tribe what was happening return, followed soon after by the one who slunk away.
"Wait..." shouts the one who spoke to Spitter previously.
Another kobold exits the caves wearing robes. She tosses the hood back to reveal deep crimson scales. "This tribe has enough spiritual leadership," the red-scale says. She gives the others a look and walks slowly toward the group with her hands out, a quarterstaff held loosely in one of them. "I would recommend that your human...associates depart before violence occurs," she says, still slowly walking forward with her hands spread.
She stops a little over halfway between the two groups and whispers in common. "The Blood Vows seem to be having some leadership issues. Their Chief Roaghaz seems to be losing his eggs," she makes a twirling motion with her finger near her temple, giving the universal sign for crazy. "I do not see him allowing you to enter those caves unopposed. Negotiations will not be possible so long as Roaghaz is in charge."
Nodding in understanding to the strange red kobold who had appeared, he then turns to his new friends and says louder than he probably should.
(Draconic)"We are currenly un-welcome here. We should return to the town before we are forced to flee by the mighty Blood Vows."
He then purposely leads the diplomatic group back out of the quarry and out of sight of the kobold's lair. Looking over his shoulder he grimaces.
(Common)"This should be far enough. We need to speak to the pink-skin chieftain! These kobolds...are in turmoil it seems. That a red-scaled kobold would be sent to speak to us, even just to turn us away? And the fact she revealed the chieftain may be mentally damaged? This is NOT good. The Blood Vow may need to be exterminated if we cannot kill their chieftain. Assuming the red was not lying to us."
A few minutes later, as Spitter and the team are discussing the current situation, an ancient, white bleached skeleton walks to where everyone had recently been standing and drops a rock into the dirt with a thud before silently turning around and returning to the caves.
Tied to it are two small rolled scrolls. The notes are smudged from being written hastily. The first reads, "After what the Blood Vow chieftain did to my mentor, I feel no need to assist them in their defense and am returning home as soon as night falls. Many of the tribe are loyalists, but not all. There is a political prisoner who I will try to keep alive until I leave. He may help you." The note is signed, 'Churgri'.
The second note is written in Draconic, and addressed to 'Bluewing'. "You belong among your own people. Come find the Hangtooths when you are ready to come home."
Reading both scrolls carefully, twice, Spitter turns and spits back towards the kobold's lair.
"Yes. This changes everything. We must speak to the town's chieftain immediately!"
"How do we know she is telling the truth and not just trying to use us to depose the current chief?" asks Leng.
"Does it matter if she is?" Ro'gram asks. "She seems far more reasonable to deal with. If that was the case, we can use that leverage to ask for peace."
"Well, usually, when you have some second-tier power trying to overthrow the ruler, if they use a catspaw to do it, the next step is to eliminate the catspaw," says Leng. "I'm a little hesitant to get into a kobold civil war to do the heavy lifting for someone who just wants to eliminate a rival, only to turn around and get killed afterward... if that is the case."
Spitter taps the second scroll.
"She would not have offered for me to visit HER tribe if they had any hold over this one, or intended to. She may be a zealot trying to foist her god or goddess onto the Blood Vow...but that's just a guess based on what she's said so far. My guess is the chief of the Blood Vow has given them leave to visit, but has not allowed anyone in the tribe to follow them closely. If the Blood Vow had their own religious figures, we would have seen THEM, not her. I really think she's leaving, like she says. If we hesitate...any help we hope to find here might be gone."
He then shrugs broadly.
"But that is just my feeling here. I could be wrong. Anyway...its up to the town's chieftain is it not? This is not our decision...or fight...unless she says it is. Correct? We have attempted to present her terms. We have been rebuffed: 'The tumble-ball, is in her field now. 'As my kind would say."
Leng shrugs. "Well, you'd know your people better than I," he says.
"I share Leng's concerns," Maellyra chimes in eventually. She had no idea as to why the man kept referencing cats' paws, and it seemed highly unlikely that he would know of any spells that called for such an ingredient when she didn't, but the rest of his diatribe made a good deal of sense. "We were sent here to make peace with the Blood Vow. If the tribe is mostly comprised of loyalists, killing their chieftain would seem, to me, to run counter to that goal." Looking down at Spitter, the witch mimics a gesture she's often seen him use, giving a shrug of her slight shoulders. "But perhaps the subtleties of kobold politics are lost on me."
"At any rate, I agree we should return to share our findings with the Devys and find out how they wish to proceed."
A sound from nearby causes everyone to suddenly turn and look at the nearby ledge. A handful of kobolds has snuck up and are currently swinging their slings, ready to launch a volley down on you!
In hopes of distracting the group of slingers a little, Spitter tries to hide a small gesture.
Several of the attackers fire their slings into the brush behind them, responding to the new threat. Their bullets shake the bushes and ricochet off the quarry walls. The realization that they have been fooled can be seen on their faces.
Two others ignore the noise and squint in the daylight to line up shots.
=)
Silently cursing himself for his carelessness, Pavo shifted his position to the west in an effort to shield Spitter and Maellyra from whatever the kobolds may try next. Always the diplomat, Pavo felt it only fair to warn the kobolds of their impending danger...and so he shouted a warning. "BEAR!!" he yelled as he pointed beyond the kobolds with his trident.
Ro'gram draws his shortbow and opens fire on one of the attackers.
Leng lashes out with his weighted chain at the same kobold that Ro'gram shot.
The two kobolds who did not fall for Spitter's ruse let their bullets fly toward their nearest targets.
One of the kobolds misses Ro'gram by a mile, while the other finds his bullet deflected by Leng's swinging chain. Ro'gram returns fire on his assailant, causing a minor flesh wound that forces a hiss of pain from the kobold.
Leng moves up the hill, threatening two kobolds, placing them both in danger. He moves to strike each when they fire their slings, one at the "creature" in the bushes, the other at Leng, but fails to make contact with either one.
Kobold politics may have been too complicated for Maellyra to grasp, but their tactics certainly aren't. She had had a feeling that the craven guards would not let them leave unmolested and once the rocks began to fly in their direction, Maellyra was disappointed at being proven right. For Spitter's sake, as well as for the sake of Belhaim, the witch's first thought is toward subduing the guards. Diplomatic negotiations with the Blood Vow would be hard enough as is; starting things off by killing six of their tribesmen, even in self-defense, would probably complicate matters, she figured.
Sadly, non-lethal means are in short supply for Maellyra, particularly if the kobolds planned to stay out of range of her magic as she is sure they intend to. With a resigned sigh, Maellyra unhooks her crossbow from her satchel and searches for a quarrel, trying not to meet Spitter's eyes as she does.
Looking extremely calm, Spitter moves to within range of the two kobolds behind some rocks and lashes out with his most powerful magic!
The struck kobold seizes violently as the electricity wracks his body. He makes a slight gurgling sound before collapsing, his heart stopped cold by the shock. The other kobold's eyes go wide with fear and surprise.
The kobold beside the one laid out by Spitter's spell begins shaking, but the one grazed by Ro'gram's arrow shouts back.
"Risen God? That doesn't sound good" Pavo muttered as he rushed just past spitter. With his trident in hand, he took up a defensive posture hefting his shield to try and cover the blue kobold from more incoming rocks and stones.
Leng sweeps low to make the one in the open dodge out of the way, then while still holding his chain somehow manages to make a standing kick that, instead of connecting, brings his leg around the kobold's head while keeping its shoulders pushed against its neck.
Two kobolds launch sling bullets at Ro'gram, but neither comes close to striking him.
The kobold Leng engaged gurgles and tries to wriggle free to no avail, his partner on the other hand takes off in a reckless run.
The one shaking beside his dying friend drops his sling and holds his hands high.
Somehow, Leng keeps his standing leg-grip on one kobold while lashing out with his chain at the fleeing one.
He squeezes the other kobold at the same time:
Keeping his eyes locked on the kobold surrendering, Spitter turns his head only slightly,
amplifying his voice to make sure the others hear easily enough.
"Do we accept their surrender? Do we want to present captives to the village chieftain?
Or should we kill them now? Or just let them go? I hesitate to force a decision one way or
another as my opinion would seem biased in the end."