All six archers raise their bows toward Reaghar, and fire.
Only one hits though...
The lizardfolk rumbles and looks down at his side, where all the blood is squirting out, and laughs. He says and jams the point of his halberd into the ground.
"Get the wounded back to the wagon and let them negotiate if they want. It will give us time to get everyone back up. More importantly if the fight starts again we won't have to put up with the same disadvantages."
::I. Don't. Like. This.:: Connor stated, trying to emphasize his teeth grinding in frustration through the Net. ::The lizard-man wants to parley. Parley for what? My fighters won't last more than a few more seconds. We are losing any tactical advantage we had.::
Still, he acquiesced to Selvan's order, sending telepathic commands out. The man-sized astral construct with the bag of caltrops halted in mid-flight, swerving back to Reaghar's position in the air. The second larger astral construct ignored what was going on, and instead searched Alys' form until it found a tattoo to tap.
The little construct pulling Sammark backwards changed direction, moving closer to the oxen at the wagon, dragging the half-elf along.
Connor himself kept gliding to the wagon, his weapon now in his hands. There was, after all, no reason to not keep getting prepared to use his crossbow.
The Catfolks and Gnolls look at Grimjowl, and then mutter but pull their hands from their quivers, rather than pulling arrows out. They hold their bows at their sides, waiting.
Jorge and Gaje look at each other past the lizard, nod, and then slam the tips of their weapons into the ground as well. "Yah, Parley." Jorge says. Gaje nods as well. "Parley."
The Catfolk and Gnolls look a bit disgusted, but begin unstringing their bows and putting them back on their backs. The wounded one pulls out a bottle off his belt and drinks it, his wounds closing over.
The big lizardfolk takes his hand off his weapon, leaving it planted in the ground. He walks back a few feet, and pokes at Alys on the ground, picking up one of the feathers that scattered when she hit the ground.
Gaje and Jorge moved together, near the heavy polearm the lizardfolk left in the ground. The shaft is a good 3 ft taller than the two brothers are. Gaje points up. "Fall from ship in sky."
Jorge laughs. "Really, did! Flying ship, weird people alright. Especially one with insect wings."
The big lizardfolk seems very disappointed, he pokes at the grass where the astral construct exploded, finding nothing, not even remains.
With Sam back at the wagonSelvan drops on deck and sucks the more fatal wounds off him.
healed to sam and hurt.
"If I can get some cover I can wreak havoc on the archers in their face but I need someone with me to help cover. I believe I have a way to get into and among them. How's the lizard looking is he regenerating? Sam use your tattoos. That goes for everyone. Conserve power if you can."
Sam staggers to his feet, take a deep breath and glowered at the hulking lizard. This was the second time this lizard and his fuzzies had turned him into a pincushion. If he had any chance to, he was going to pop the lizard's skull like a grape.
The lizard folk moves over to the construct and examines it, but doesn't attack it. He looks up at the hovering Reaghar and then toward Connor. The big lizzard rubs his disfigured jowl, and then chuckles. The lizardfolk looks down at his side, which is still oozing blood, makes a flicking motion, and then ignores the wound. He looks at his own shoulder thoughtfully. He laughs hard.
Gaje and Jorge blink, and look at each other. The bury their heads and mutter rapidly in a growling yippy mutter, occassionally looking up to gesture toward Grimjowl or the archers or the winged folk.
"Relax, no one's dead. Reminds me of a memory crystal I attuned once of a battle between tow families. When ammo and arrows were spent they each decided to settle the matter in a card game as neither wanted to stain their clothes in an opponents blood. Stranger things have happened."
IF everyone could post their current hp totals I can go through the mathematical nonsense of getting everyone healed.
Sam pried an arrow from a half-healed wound and spat blood onto the ground. "I'm writing a list, bug-boy. Gonna do some burning once I ain't tied to the blowhards back home," he thought over the mind link.
The astral construct next to Reaghar handed him a burlap bag full of caltrops, then faded away.
The astral construct next to Alys tapped another tattoo of natural healing, , then faded away as well.
The little construct dragging Sammark finished pulling Sammark over to Selvan's position next to the wagon and the oxen. The construct flew over to Alys afterwards and hovered protectively over her, awaiting new orders.
Connor gently landed on top of the wagon. After Grimjowl's announcement, he relayed to the others over Selvan's Net in his mind. ::Grimjowl wants twenty percent of the Gashan's load off of their wagon. Given that none of us were able to affect the lizard-man or the archers, they might take him up on the offer. I'd prefer Grimjowl's head. But we were ill-prepared for this ambush, and I don't think any of us has the mindpowers for a decisive assault.:: Connor paused, then continued. ::Alys, you're up. Good. Selvan wants everyone back here at the wagon. I think that's prudent, but Sammark, be prepared with another Entangling Debris in case our employers decide their sister's wrath is worse than Grimjowl.::
Connor used his psionic focus to make three bolts for his light crossbow , regaining his focus afterwards . He got down on his stomach on top of the wagon, crossbow loaded and at the ready, his aim trained not on Grimjowl, but the archers behind him.
Grimjowl suddenly growls and hisses, and the archers start frantically restringing their bows, although three have to look around for a second before they do.
The lizardfolk rasps out, staring at Connor as he trains his weapon on the archers. The lizardfolk holds out a hand and the polearm snaps out of the ground and leaps back into his hand.
::I just missed...:: Alys mentally protests at Connor's assessment.
As the giant reptilian readies his polearm again, Alys scampers backwards a few feet in a hasty crabwalk.
Connor sat up, taking his hands off of his light crossbow, and sat back silently on the top of the wagon, crossing his arms. His face was red with either embarrassment or anger.
Over the telepathic net the young man was far more vocal. ::Parley here on the Surface apparently means "Leave yourself open". Someone's awful full of themselves down there. Sammark, I'm with you. I need something that can kill at a distance, a really long distance, no matter what magic shield they wrap themselves in.:: The rest was a nonverbal muttering from the Humavian.
He got down on his stomach on top of the wagon, crossbow loaded and at the ready, his aim trained not on Grimjowl, but the archers behind him.
The big lizardfolk growls at Connor. Then turns to the brothers.
Both gnolls give Connor a glare, then nod at the lizardfolk as it slams it's polearm back into the ground.
He no longer seems very jovial, and isn't laughing anymore.
Another glare at Connor by the brothers.
As Grimjowl sticks his weapon back into the ground Alys carefully gets up and discretely hurries over to the others at the wagon.
Selvan sighs. "Well that's coming out of the pay"
Healing to Alys
Healing to Sam
::Give 'em the crate of vegetables.:: Connor grumbles.
Given the scowl on Grimjowl's face, the two brothers eventually give in and give him a quarter of the value of the wagon load. The two open up a crate and count out a sack of gems until them and Grimjowl are agreed as to this being a quarter of the value of the cargo. Then Grimjowl dismisses the archers, and begins following the wagon on foot. As he walks, he pulls a cap out of his beltpouch and sets it on his head at an angle. The large lizardfolk suddenly shrinks down into a normal lizardfolk, with a jaunty 3-cornered hat an eyepatch over his bad eye, and a peg leg. His clothes are colorful and red and gold now. The lizardfolk looks at his shoulder. Other than that single utterance, he remains gloomily silent as he follows along. The two gnoll brothers also don't talk.
"No one has parrots on the skyships. No one who knows better at least." Selvan mentions matter of factly. "No one wants a squawking creature that eats all the fruit and uncannily manages to learn the worst possible insults in order to express them at the most awkward times. And for what? A companion that will get roasted in the first dragon attack. Cats are welcome, but mostly because the rats are not and they've sense enough to hide when dragons are about. I've also seen sea hawks and monkeys. Monkeys can be trained and hawks scare the piss out of the ever present seagulls."
"Parrots learn insults..." The smaller lizardfolk mutters, it's booming voice subdued as it talks at it's lowest possible volume apparently. It's still as loud as a normal conversation tone. "Excellent... and good riddance to fruit..."
Reaghar, quiet as always, continues to say little.
Connor continued to grumble silently over the telepathic network while they took their posts again. ::The sister will have all our hides for this...a magical disguise, now we know how he gets into the city and back without being spotted...does Grimjowl intend on following us to the Kalliert gates? We need mindpowers that can reach farther than crossbows and through magical shields...we need tattoos and power stones...and something that makes fake gemstones if needed...::
As the sun fell back to the horizon, Connor maneuvered closer to the Gnash brothers. "Did your sister plan for this?" he asked the closer gnoll driver, keeping his voice down.
I had plans for the profits and extra profits when we got back to town. Like tattoos and power stones to make a battle like this better odds on our sides. Vigor first, then Inertial Armor + Force Screen, and Natural Healing that gets us positive hp on a single tap. Not to mention Inevitable Strikes for Alys, Reaghar, and yourself to give a +20 to strike.
I can't imagine the roleplay for our employer's reaction.
Gaje and Jorge look at each other, then Connor, then the Lizardfolk. Gaje begins to laugh, and Jorge joins in. Within a few minutes, the two are laughing uproariously. Finally Gaje says out loud. "No, no birdman. We no plan on this. Sister think you be worthless guards and she not have to pay you 'cause you get yourself killed or fly off once you fight Grimjowl. But figured you'd distract Grimjowl long enough dying and fleeing for me and Jorge to wound him enough to Parley."
Jorge wipes at his eyes. "Yah, she going to be mad like wet hornet when she realize she have to pay you afterall." The large hyena goes into another round of hysterics.
Even the disguised lizardfolk begins to laugh, the sound vibrating the wagon.
The group finally gets back to Kelliart in the late afternoon. As they do, they see the ship floating up from the city, winged forms flying around it. The two gnolls point and chatter excitedly, seeing a ship fly.
Grimjowl watches it intently from next to the wagon, and a smile splits his reptillian face. The lizardfolk looks over at the group.
With that the lizardfolk turns around to walk back into the savannah, pausing occasionally to look over his shoulder at the flying ship as it sails down the river toward the ocean.
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Once back in the city, the gnoll brothers pull the wagon back into their warehouse, and smaller gnolls and catfolk begin unloading the crates and supplies.
Janisha gives the two brothers a disgusted look as they stand to one side, elbowing each other and watching as the winged folk go for their pay. "Well now, it appears you're tougher than you look." She reaches into her belt pouch and pulls out six small pouches, each clinks with coins. Then she stops, and looks lopsided. "Hey, dimwits, you lost the elf thing."
The two brothers wince. "Nah nah, dey lose him, while on break in Vuomik! We 'tink ogre mages eat him." Gaje says quickly, holding up both hands.
Janisha looks at the brothers, then at the group, then shrugs. "Oh well, then I make a small profit. Assuming he doesn't show up in the next two weeks that is." She tosses the small pouches, one at a time, to the survivors. "Ten Kloven's, as agreed." Inside the pouches are ten lustrous coins made of platinum, one side with a gnoll profile, and the other side with a catfolk profile.
The two brothers seem disappointed, and Janisha laughs at them. "What, you expected me not to have plans if they survived? Idiots. I bet half the yard they'd come back at 2 to 1 odds. Covered their pay if they came back, defrayed the loss if they didn't. Morons... this is why Dah doesn't let you run the business. Speaking of which, he wants to see all of you before you leave, that means you two as well."
Both of the gnoll brothers suddenly stop laughing and swallow hard. "Dah's here?" Gaje says, his voice suddenly subdued.
Jorge begins fidgeting. "He in a good mood?"
Janisha huffs. "His left arm is in a sling, and he's missing the tip of his left ear, what do you think..."
The two brothers whine like puppies and droop, seeming to lose half their stature.
Connor spent the rest of the trip back studying the local flora, as well as writing on his map maker's kit and in his journal. Distrustful of their accompanying guest, Connor spent some time learning and relearning how to tie knots in rope. Insomuch as tying things up, so he could also learn how to chafe and wiggle free of said knots. Hero gave telepathic support in the form of suggestive poses.
The Humavian prepared a report, Kalliert and the Lands West, on parchment, in Auran, in his spare time. The writing was more succinct than his journal. A map of the continent covered the back of one of the parchment sheets, with another for the underground city.
"...Kalliert requires a gold 'chit' for city and non-city people alike..."
"...Kalliert is divided into Westtown, Easttown, Docks...the city has an underground, under-the-river covered-wagon-train of remarkable sophistication between Westtown and Easttown..."
"...Paladins of Bast have a single claw mark on their shield as a symbol..."
"...elves are seen as primitive cannibals here, take note to disguise any elf or half-elf members..."
"...Sealash Monastery is a peaceful community of tiger-men and cheetah-men dedicated to personal physical perfection..."
"...city to the north ruled by chromatic Dragons...old (1,500 years in the past)...something going on in the old Imperial Capital..."
"...to the west are Ogre Mages (not seen), who have been at war with the Dragons for 300 years..."
"...the merchants of Kalliert are as treacherous as the Dragons of Pallandrus are arrogant...if you are not 'using' someone you will be 'used'..."
"...cities are heavily arrayed against any kind of aerial attack, as well as Wingless Drow, Orcs, Ogres, Lizardmen, Gnolls, Catfolk, Hobgoblins, Goblins..."
"...the dragon we encountered considered the massive dragon attack upon our airships to be a 'culling' of the youngest offspring..."
"...a similar 'culling' happens every 100 years between the chromatic Dragons and the Orge Mages...."
"...magic of an extremely superior level affected psionic powers or cancelled them out entirely..."
"...the Halfling godling Tenfa unequivocally stated that there were only four Halflings on the entire continent at the time..."
"...Vuomik is primarily a trading post for mining crews and bounty hunters...Guilds have locked up all trade in, out, or inside the town..."
"...ranged ambush in the tall grass is the preferred method of highwaymen here...'parley' means an enemy can still demand tribute from travelers...overwhelming force is the only diplomacy these natives understand..."
----------------------
The morning before their arrival in the catfolk city Connor awoke unusually refreshed. While making small talk at breakfast, Connor silently added over Selvan's Net, ::More of the mindpowers I studied as a child make sense to me now. I am certain I have the ability to relieve conditions of a debilitating nature, like a Vitalist. And I can also call forth items as complex as tools. I cannot heal like Selvan, not yet, but it's a start.::
Connor's heart leapt in his throat at seeing the Ashen Blade in the sky. The way home. Going South. The Edge must have left earlier. And he and the others still had thirty-seven days to explore before the rendezvous. It was time to put his new-found skills and powers to work. They needed more mindpowers for battle, in the form of tattoos and power stones.
------------------------
"Elrohir...decided to go his own way. We never found a body." Connor informed their employer. He listened to the gnolls bicker amongst themselves.
Reaghar happily takes his pouch and tucks it away, but not before looking at the coins. Better spend these while i'm here, not sure if they'll accept this topside.
"We have other matters to attend to," Sam said, in a sour mood ever since the ambush. He had been playing with his psionics more of late. Suspicious waves of heat or cold seemed to linger around him during his nightly meditations and he had seemed frequently distracted.
Gaje shakes his head. "Nah, Sammark Bell Front. Dah say want see us all, Dah see us all." The big gnoll says solemnly.
"Yah, if still alive after, den we got odder matters." Jorge says glumly. [b]"Been nice knowin you..." The gnoll says dejectedly.
The two start heading toward the big office in the back of the warehouse... although not so fast that they aren't letting the winged folk go first. Both twitch and make motions for the group to go first...
Jhanisha rolls her eyes and goes back to directing the people unloading the wagon.
Selvan goes along rolling his eyes at the drama. "Please, murder is the least thing an elven parent does to his wayward ilk. They're...patient."
Connor followed the rest, smoothing back his hair, unruffling his feathers, and making sure his outfit was proper. ::We should be fine,:: he added over Selvan's Net, ::we had minimal casualties, this was the first successful caravan run by Gashan & Sons in months to Vuomik, with only a little loss to the bandit chief. So relax. Just make sure we're going South or coming back in 28 days. We still have to work our way 10 miles south in 38 days or less. Emphasize our experience and teamwork. And Selvan, watch the elven references. Elves are different here on the Surface.::
That being said, Connor did manifest Inertial Armor around himself, in case this elder gnoll was a "negotiate by combat" type. He also changed his psionic focus from the flame to the spark.
As the group files into the large back office, things look a bit odd at first. A large gnoll is standing behind a large podium, so that's a bit odd for an office, but something is off about the picture, and it takes a few seconds for the picture to click before it comes into focus and the groups mind's eye catches up with reality.
The gnoll isn't standing behind a podium, he's sitting behind a massive desk. Which means he's looking everyone in the eye as he sits there. Suddenly a dozen things that didn't make sense before make sense now.
1) The two brothers look larger than any gnolls have a right to look, but compared to the father, they look downright puny. The father must be a good 9 or 10 feet tall.
2) The two brothers, and the sister for that matter, hadn't been bothered as much by the wings the group sported, they'd been more shocked that they could fly with such small wings. Those comments begin to make sense now that they set eyes on the father gnoll... who sports a set of bat like wings that are truly massive on his frame, a good 25 foot wing span, you'd estimate.
3) Those oversized weapons the two brothers sport almost certainly are hand me downs from the father.
4) The father must have demon or devil blood in him, for in addition to the wings, he sports a massive pair of twisted black horns that grow up between his eyes from the top of his muzzle. The yellow eyes also glow softly as he sits there.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Oh deary, talk about a deal with the devil...
The father looks up from his paperwork as the group enters. A mace the size of Selven's leg hangs from the wall behind him, and a set of oversized plate mail (with dents and fresh scrapes on it) hangs from a very sturdy armor rack in the corner. The gnoll's left arm is in a sling. The muzzle pulls back in a smile, showing off row after row of sharp fangs. The father's voice rolls out and over the room like a crushing wave of sound, vibrating in your spines, very much like Grimjowl's voice did, although it doesn't quite have that alien timbre Grimjowl's had.
He looks the group over and frowns. He looks at the two sons.
The two brothers proceed to give a rambling, stumbling, mutually interrupted, argumentative, but also surprisingly good all things considered, report on the trip to Vuomik and back.
When they are done, the Father looks to the group.
Connor covered his shock at seeing the...whatever it was. Recovering by coughing behind one fist, Connor decided to use brevity as the soul of wit. "The brigands in the first battle had minor potions of healing on them, plentiful enough to warrant having their own magic-caster." he began. "Grimjowl's weapon had some kind of thick fire shield covering the lizard-man. And he had shapeshifter magic to disguise himself later, after the second battle. Some kind of head cover. As for Vuomik," Connor finished, "we saw no Ogre Mages at all. None. The entire land was empty. If these Ogre Mages fight dragons, then the dragons might be winning."
Over Selvan's Net Connor sent ::Answeronlyifasked, bewareunknowntelepathy. Guardyourthoughts.::
He's a half-fiend deary, not a half-mindflayer...
There's a short loud bark of laughter.
"Then we'll learn to find them without our eyes," Sam said, moving up behind Connor and putting what he hoped was a reassuring hand on the younger man's shoulder. A slightly awkward gesture considering the wing in the way. "Or they'll kill us, 's usually how it goes, right?"
"Well isn't he just ridiculously huge."
He is a half-devil. Specifically, he appears to be a half Phistophilus, or contract devil. Phistophili can make contracts with mortals which are binding upon their immortal souls. The contracts must be made willingly, but are binding, and breaking those contracts is difficult to say the least. Once made, the soul of the mortal is bound to the contract demon after death.
The gnoll laughs again. The gnoll eyes the group speculatively.
Both of the Gnoll brothers make noises of shock and consternation, which cause the father to laugh uproariously. The gnoll looks back to the PCs.
The gnoll looks thoughtful, staring over the group as he thinks. He chuffs in amusement.
The big gnoll asks, looking at the group from the Isles. Without warning, just as the brothers relax, he reaches out with a massive arm to slap each one against the side of the head, sending them tumbling across the floor. He roars the two brothers, making the windows rattle in their frames. Then he clears his throat.
"So since there were no fireballs dropped on us it's reasonably safe to assume there were no ogre mages then.", Alys adds to the conversation off-hand while taking in the room.