Kirrish-Kreshk-Skiklik's page

"Declaration: This one 're-dots', thin-skins."

"Declaration: This one once act as young thin-skin artisan-caste one. This one not like artisan-caste role: this one work hard, get little eat-eat when... like as such."
Kirrish waves his antennae, emitting a pheromone stink like a burning band-aid.

"Declaration: This one not like as greatly as when hunter-caste one."

"Query: 'I Cut Your Throat' is thin-skin... wording as 'You can not take that'?"
"Instance: Clutch-one want use this one's kank, carry load. This one need kank, not wish sharing. This one say 'I Cut Your Throat'?"

The sandy thri-kreen's antennae wave to and fro in confusion. It makes a clicking sound in its gullet and emits a pheromone stench like sulfur.

"Query: What are thin-shells taking easily? Eat-eat? Shiny thing? Little... he struggles for the right words rodent with good skin with such wearing on thin shell and taste nice?"

"Query: What is 'it'?"

"Declaration: This one... not this one."

Quit rattling your bone boxes. You barmy lot of sods'll be penned in the dead book if you don't stow it.

"Congratulatory Declaration: This one wish great luck to new clutch union."

"Warning declaration: Aso-one is hunger-one. Dangerous hunger-one."

"Suggestion: This one could kill long-ear, clutch get eat-eat. Aso-one not eat eat such tiny insect which stay in....he gestures, one hand making a hole with his fingers with one digit plunging in and out of said hole repeatedly... thing."

Following Skarsnikt, eyeing Illyen with genocidal hunger.

Kirrish continues chatting up his new ladyfriend.

"So, how do you feel about filthy tricksy long-ears? Yeah, I think they're pretty tasty."

Gratitude Declaration: This one thank the eye in sky. Thanks you, eye in sky!

"Declaration: This one grow nicely in skill. This one ready get not-dead kill-kill."

Kirrish's hp roll:1d8+2=10

I guess I'll just keep chatting up my new lady friend. "Hey, baby, what to kill all humans?"

Kirrish takes a minute to survey the undead. The wall, the templars. The breach. The party. He shakes his head, then gently pats Zuko and Faindriac on the back.

"Good luck.", he says, just loud enough to hear. Then, he attempts to scale the wall himself.

Climb check (1d20+5=17)

Kirrish-Kreshk-Skiklik wrote:

Kirrish grabs some large pieces of wood, stone or bone to use as clubs.

"Query: Will us not get cornered, dead on one side, deadly wall on other we do this? How does clutch get deads die, not throw clutch into wall?"

"Critical declaration: Idea has holes like wall."

"Wall has holes like a bug's head."

"Irritated Declaration: 'Ug head not nearly hold holes like delicate, squishy city dweller head.

Recitation: Two hear-holes, two scent-holes, one eat-hole. Add two waste-holes, entire thing.

Threatening Idea: This one add holes, you not shut yours."

Kirrish grabs some large pieces of wood, stone or bone to use as clubs.

"Query: Will us not get cornered, dead on one side, deadly wall on other we do this? How does clutch get deads die, not throw clutch into wall?"

"Critical declaration: Idea has holes like wall."

Queries: Have any nearby buildings survived the storm? How high are they? How close are they to the wall? Is there anything nearby besides rocks to use as a weapon? What's Illyen been doing? How much of him can I get into my mouth before the skeletons show up? How far can I throw him?

"Declaration: Recall, Kreen, we need only go quicker than city dwellers, not not-dead, should wise tactic not work."

Kreen to the Kreen:
"Follow my lead, I think the pinkies will need some help."

He addresses the "Pinkies" in his broken Common:
"Query, with great regard: Does such new not-quite-God/King holy one need assist? This one hear while working, new task. This one assist new God/King holy one in duties; Kreen is always good use, lots things. Not need druid get know where wind is going."

In Kreen

"Greeting egg-cousin pair! Are you of the same clutch? I seek to renew Tokchak (cluth-mind). I am good with plant many, and can make weapon many with zik-thok."

The kreen female shows you a small stack of three-holed crystalline throwing wedges; Kyorkcha, similar to but more triangular than a Chatkcha.

Zik-thok is a common plant Kreen use to catalyze their poison into the crystal used for weapon and tool making. The process is time consuming and prevents the use of the venomous bite, and is a Kreen secret.

Thri-Kreen:

"Greetings, egg-cousin. I am Kirrish-Kreshk-Skiklik, hunter from the far wastes and this is one called Skarsnikt, fierce warrior and former gladiator. We have formed our own misfit clutch in Raam with a wise aaracokra spirit-speaker and several soft-shelled city dwellers.

Your weapons are quite fine; you should take pride in their construction. Long have I hoped to once more hunt with the Chatkcha that were taken from me, though that is for another time. What has brought you to Raam and your present labors?"

Kirrish tries to talk and work at the same time, not paying as much attention to the templars as he is to Kiltektet.

Even in the middle of what could be considered a serious crisis, Kirrish is lost for a moment in the female mantis' scent. Lust, homesickness and embarrassment flood through the air around him. Shaking himself, he returns her greeting and starts picking up heavy rocks and other detritus for wall-mending or templar crushing.

Without a word to the templars or the others, Kirrish starts working with the rest of the "citizens", trying to keep the templars between him and the undead. I'm going to try and size up the other press-ganged workers, take a look at this hole blasted in the wall.

So, with the templar's work detail, are there any guards or other templars or just the slaves and freemen saddled with fixing the wall? Are most people still huddled indoors?

Kirrish grabs a chair, if handy, to fend off the undead outside and bounds, cricketlike, after Skarsnikt.

"Request: Not let house-owner hold cash; we not drink drinks, we get cash again."

On my initiative, I would like to grab a piece of fallen tavern to use like a makeshift club (or a big fallen beam, wielded in four arms like a greatclub) and start hacking into the undead. I'll roll if you think that's possible in one round, otherwise this bug is content.

"Query: This...usual, city dweller cities? This one not see how wastes any greater danger..."

Initiative 13+4 dex= 17

Kirrish steps steadily out of cover, watching the new landscape of groaning softshells.

"Declaration: Wise thin-shells don't ignore the he clumsily turns the epithet in his complex, lipless mouth '..ug'."

Kirrish quietly states in Thri-kreen to Faindriac and Skarsnikt:

Thri-kreen

Keeping his eyes on the windows as if he is also transfixed by the storm, Kirrish slowly and nonchalantly walks to the archway.

Kirrish sizes up the twister, while still keeping an eye on our "fortunate" elven friend; he's thinking of an emergency plan should the cyclone move closer to the bar.
Knowledge (nature) 1d20+4=5; Survival 1d20+7=19

As the wind picks up and no delicious elves seem to be walking around outside the bar, Kirrish goes back in and stands near everyone else. The look he levels at Ilyen is as inscrutable as his multi-faceted eyes.

Alright, I lost track of most of what we have been doing since we left the bathhouse. I am lost. Anyone care to give me a quick breakdown?

After the bathhouse, we retreated to Tik's only to find that the tavern had been burned down, the Kreen gladiator encased in the melted walls of the Hive-in-Progress. An older gladiator named Larcos approached us out of the investigating Templars' earshot, suggesting we meet him at this "Iz'Ztal?" bar to learn about the sentient weapons; though we aren't supposed to bring any with us, or else he will not appear. So we sheltered for the morning at an inn and split up: one group going to the bar to meet our contact (so far: the Kreen, Zuko, Faindriac, Malaki) and the others to watch the weapons/do some legwork (Shenker and Radik).

At the palanquin's inquiry, Kirrish does his best to be polite.

"Answer: Not this now, thank you. We are liking as 'nonchalant', this now. We would like to work you another now, though"

He pauses, thinking of an appropriate gesture, then gives a short bow.

Kirrish will scrutinize the people entering the bar, to see if they're anyone he's looking for.

Just loud enough to be heard by his comrades, Kirrish opines:

"Instruction: We should go; not see one clutch need talk to. Likely not show or trick waiting to...he struggles...go, quick. Sudden."

Quietly, so only Skarsnikt (and Faindriac, if near) can hear/smell his Thri-kreen:

Kirrish keeps the elf's location in mind but continues to focus on finding Mysterious Contact #3. He never turns his back to the long-ear, however.

Kirrish strides into the establishment and looks about for their contact and any suspicious looking elves (which, to him, means every elf ever) or invisible arsonists.

Spot: 1d20+4=21

Singing to himself in Thri-kreen...

Thri-Kreen

...he pauses a moment, to think up further murderous lyrics to add to his final stanza...

"Declaration: This one goes."

Kirrish then heads for the route down to the bottom floor.

Kirrish is perplexed by the unique pheremones that Aso has ejected into the air from the halfling's own scent glad. What emotion can the small one seek to express?

Then, finally, he remembers that it's a waste organ he's smelling, not a communication one. How disgusting.

"Clearing declaration: Unadulterated, not controlled. Like Aso-one."

"Suggestion: Clutch Kreen, 'alaki, 'aindriac and others kill-yet-not-kill-with-hit-things should go, talking hit-things stay with others. This way, none are unready should unadulterated slaughter get necessary."

Oh, yeah. I forgot that "my kind" doesn't sleep. I guess he'll just be resting and watching in curiosity as the thin-shells once again engage in their every 16-20 hour ritual of "dying" only to rise again, awake and alive, 4-8 hours later. Fascinating, in a very boring sort of way...

Since this is probably Kirrish's first real stay in a human city, he's likely to stick with the people that look as if they fit in. So he'll be staying, even if things are closer than he would like.

Kirrish pokes and prods the bone scaffolding, examines the leather walls. He's clearly baffled.

"Declaration: At least one own such house dead already. Greatly get hot, easy...char with hot hot thing. This one liked Tik's. This one...regret loss, Tik and Tik's. And Gllurrsskkuu-skruk. Sad sad, gllurrsskkuu-skruk."

The sandy thri-kreen sits down someplace out of the way in a corner or something, with his "ward" (the talking gythka) and tries to get some rest.

"Suggestion: Clutch should shelter where no allies get hurt house destroy. Low caste house good; no high caste thin-shells like in...water-house? Clutch stay dangerous shelter, know well stand watch. Know greater danger, use greater caution. Greater danger, greater....security."

Kirrish wordlessly hands Malaki a small wad of random clothing.

Sorry, missed it a few days ago.

I have the stuff listed as Zuko's; I gave him one of the courtier's outfits, I think.

Kirrish turns to the city types in the party.

"Query: You know way this talk talk city dweller nest? We go soon, so clutch there when that nest get ruined like Tik's."

The maudlin scent of over-fermented wine belies the sandy Thri-kreen's sadness.

"This kreen confused. Why Radik stone-man cut himself? Him try attract bloodsucking insect? Him possessed by dagger ghosts? Him have head boiled by hot-hot sun?"

"Suggestion: This one think it a sex thing."

Kirrish tries his best to avoid looking overly distraught, keeping a distance from the templars. He looks over the crowd for any more suspicious sloshy pinklings, particularly any disgusting long-ears. Definitely for some disgusting long-ears.

Spot:1d20+4=6

...but he's a bit too distracted formulating conspiracy theories involving talking weapons, long-eared psionicists and a nest full of jankx with a desire for revenge.

I don't think anyone took the MWK leather I had, so if you want it it's yours.

"Scared, are you, bug?"

"Sarcastic Query: Suicidal, are you, thin-shell?"

"Order: We go. Now. Rear. Run good; hit-hit not as good. Try get clutch giantkin into not large clutches, we decide hit-hit. Go. Now."