"Just kidding! No, no, they are on important missions in the field. We aren't exactly mounting a rebellion against the government of Nex here, but we aren't exactly not doing it either so... You might be asked to support them at some point, or work with them. Just watch out for Neeth, tall bald half elf with four arms you can't miss him, he likes to take interesting things apart so be tedious! My Master had to blind him while he was here to stop him trying to dissect me!"
"I'll keep an eye out, thank you," Staryth says, making a note that humor in Nex seems almost as morbid as in Geb. "I will be delighted to meet any relations, though apparently some of us are quite distant."
Staryth indeed takes a moment to observe any other 'kinfolk' that have arrived, greeting them with a smile, "Staryth, minstrel by trade."
"Hello Staryth" Ormiz smiles back "I am Ormiz the... Alchemist"
Abadar... getting crowded in here...
"Pleased to meet you, Ormiz," Staryth smiles, "Alchemy? I wish I could claim to know much of truth about the subject, but in my own line of work it's always about turning lead to gold, or discovering youth in a bottle as they're said to have done in Thuvia, or capturing the dreams of gods in a flask."
Ormiz relaxes a little at Staryth's good humor
"I'd like to hear those stories!"
Hearing talk of alchemy, Criss can't help but interject. "I don't know, turning the desert sand to water would make you a much richer man. Turn the land green again. Unless of course it really is cursed by magic to not grow hardly anything useful..."
"Name's Criss. Im a wilderness hunter, not some magical hero here to save Nex from whatever trouble it might be in. I protect the tribes from bandits and the beasts that also inhabit the land."
seems like a rather weak group we have assembled so far, city kids as far as I can tell. Well they probably think of you as a savage, so perhaps give them a chance before you write this off.
"I'd like to hear those stories!"
Grimward smiles at the polite conversation. He had almost forgotten the pleasantness of such meetings, the wasteland providing too few opportunities. "I'm afraid I have no idea what an alchemist does, but I'm sure we will have time for my education later." He says with a modest nod.
"Name's Criss. Im a wilderness hunter, not some magical hero here to save Nex from whatever trouble it might be in. I protect the tribes from bandits and the beasts that also inhabit the land."
Grimward claps his hands together in joy, smiling broadly at Criss. "Finally, a fellow traveler of the wastes! We will have to share tales some time. I too trek the badlands when I am asked, or if the mood takes me, although the great southern desert does take her toll."
The burly half-orc indicates his terrible facial burns and scars."Yet Nethys' gifts are mercy, as well as destruction. I am Grimward, student of the Spellscar and blessed of Nethys."
"Well - from what I've heard, that's what this place is for."
Wow - that Criss guy seems like a bit of a savage. Intense. People who live out in the wilderness tend to be deformed or crazy - wonder which he is?
As the others file in, she takes stock of them. Clearly, they arrived before she and the thin man with the dog, and have likely already accepted the offer. She notes the strange collection and that she is the only woman amongst them. Being one of the very few female shieldmarshals, she doesn't find this unusual. She introduces herself to all of them at once while trying to size them up. "My name is Gwendolyn Yorenson. I am a shieldmarshal of Alkenstar. If you're also descendants of Nex, I have a warning for you: someone has been killing us, one by one, in Alkenstar. I have at least twelve dead, including my brother Olav, all of whom have only one thing in common." She holds up the pointer finger of her free hand in illustration of the point, revealing that the top half of her finger is exposed and free of the armor that covers most of the rest of her. "All share a common anscestor: the wizard Nex."
She looks the desert nomad over quickly, getting a good feel for him immediately. She sees a man who turned to the desert more or less willingly, or at least learned how to adapt in the savage waste. She sees that he is uncomfortable in the city - much as she feels uncomfortable around freely-tossed magic like the statue outside. By describing himself as a protector, but not a member, she suspects that he feels separate somehow from the society he protects. She can sympathize with that, having seen firsthand how the necessary job she does keeping the citizens safe is often met with hostility and suspicion.
Try as she might, she gets stuck on the odd, almost horrifying appearance in front of her. Having seen her fair share of sights that would keep most men up at night, it is not the horrible visage that causes her pause. It is the almost casual acceptance of it from the man. Most lepers or scarred men hide their faces out of shame, but not him. Grimward seems happy, which is a strange reaction to Gwen, and it makes her want to keep a closer eye on him.
She sizes up Staryth the last. To Gwen, minstrels and bards are generally a waste more interested in literary exaggerations than in being productive. She can't remember the last time she sat down and enjoyed a minstrel's show, and has no appetite for changing that. This particular bard seems much of the same, though she doesn't see much of the self-regard and self-love that irritates her so much about most of his type. But to look danger in the eye and smirk at it? Hardly anything is closer to the heart of any enforcer of the law. She and her comrades must find humor in horror lest they go mad. This particular quirk of his makes it easier for her to put some stock into him other than automatic dismissal.
Ormiz relaxes a little at Staryth's good humor
"I'd like to hear those stories!"
"Later, I'll make a point a song or two I've heard," He assures with a smile The man hasn't lost the wonder involved in his work. Marvelous
"Name's Criss. Im a wilderness hunter, not some magical hero here to save Nex from whatever trouble it might be in. I protect the tribes from bandits and the beasts that also inhabit the land."
"Well, not a magical hero or no, it's nice to meet you, Criss. We seem a rather diverse lot, don't we?" The wastes? He survives living in the wastes? Either the stories I've heard are greatly exaggerated or this fellow is extremely competent to come out of it unmarked.
As the others file in, she takes stock of them. Clearly, they arrived before she and the thin man with the dog, and have likely already accepted the offer. She notes the strange collection and that she is the only woman amongst them. Being one of the very few female shieldmarshals, she doesn't find this unusual. She introduces herself to all of them at once while trying to size them up. "My name is Gwendolyn Yorenson. I am a shieldmarshal of Alkenstar. If you're also descendants of Nex, I have a warning for you: someone has been killing us, one by one, in Alkenstar. I have at least twelve dead, including my brother Olav, all of whom have only one thing in common." She holds up the pointer finger of her free hand in illustration of the point, revealing that the top half of her finger is exposed and free of the armor that covers most of the rest of her. "All share a common anscestor: the wizard Nex."
While she might sense a hidden tenseness in Staryth, this news does nothing to increase it, I'm already hunted once, what is one more threat eh? "Clearly there are forces out there that do not approve of family reunions, at least not ours. I should say, this is normally where I'd take a lady's hand, pay compliments to her beauty and so forth, but..." He looks apologetic, "Having lost your brother, any attempts on my part in that seems both self serving and tacky. Instead let me offer my condolences." He tips his hat to her, "If I may ask, Shieldmarshal, do you know if this hunt goes beyond Alkenstar immediate area? Or have suspicion on who might be more likely behind your brother's death?"
"Though that might be a mystery our host can shed more light on."
Gwen shakes her head at Staryth's question, the only other part of her body beyond her right index finger that isn't armored. She could wear a helmet, but she prefers not to in order to preserve her peripheral vision. With her limited mobility from the armor, she will take whatever advantage she can get to avoid an attacker. "The smith who supplied the dagger used in one of the killings said that he sold all of the blades to outfit this town. I suspected that it was an individual, but it may also be an organization bent on undermining whatever this is." She gestures with her free hand at the members of the small group. Her left hand still holds onto her tower shield, seemingly not comfortable enough yet to prop it up against anything. For now, it rests on the floor with her hand and forearm still inside the grip.
With the majority of the group assembled Atix hands out their coin, and takes the opportunity to gather the possessions they wish improved - and collect the required coin for each. Once he has assembled the items he suddenly enlarges becoming human sized and collecting up the items, then he leaves the Mansion.
He returns some three hours later with the now masterfully crafted items. They are no ornamented, but every line is smoother, every flaw ironed out, blades gleam sharper, and instruments sing sweeter.
Spends two hours using Brew Potion, creates a level 1 potion of Keen Senses.
Spends a bit of time with the troupe and checks out Atix's library.
Buys armour (leather and armoured coat) and daggers (2)
"Atix - I'll take you up on that offer to check out your books, please."
After quickly opening his room and letting Pendia and the puppies settle in he turns back to the group.
Time to start making contacts. I need some protection - maybe the shieldmar... no. Not her. That savage guy.
"So - Criss? Seems like there's a bunch of people who want me dead. Do you know the town well enough to point me to someone who can make some decent armour? I'll buy you a beer!"
Spends two hours using Brew Potion, creates a level 1 potion of Keen Senses.
Goes to the city library. Tries to find spellbooks or formulae books but will read voraciously anyway.
"This" Ormiz announces to the world in general "Looks like a beautiful day to spend cooped up inside a library. Anyone want to join me?"
"I do not drink common beer I'm afraid. It's wine for me. Though I have had it very seldom, 3 times in fact. The wines belonged to former bandits." Criss laughed at the memory and slapped Ormiz' shoulder. Criss suggests the facilities here may be able to make him what he desires. But he also takes him through the city to find what he needs from blacksmith or armourer. "Several places here may have what you seek. I saw one big man hammering away on a large sheet of metal this morning. I did not have time to see anything further. Let us go there first." They search the city for a time visiting the shops they find. Criss admires a bow he sees. Far stronger than his own. When he is allowed to test it he cannot even pull it half way. Disappointed he hands it back. He wasn't strong enough. Caressing his own bow he wonders if there is anything Atix could do to improve it. He will enquire.
Accepting the half orcs greeting, Criss smiled back. "I hope we do get that opportunity Grimward. I come from the wilderness area closest to the waste. I have looked into the waste with my own eyes, but only fools venture out of sight of the border. My grandfather's brother was one such." He looks far into the distance before seeming to look at Grimward again. "Tell me, what parts have your travels taken you to? I have not met lone travelers before. The beasts would have most of them."
He shrugs his shoulders at Ormiz, "If they truly intend what's best for the entire peoples of Nex, I will stay. Sometimes the law does not do all it is meant to."
Criss turns to Gwendolyn, the woman shield Marshall. Having not seen any woman yet to hold a position of some authority apart from one wife whose husband, the chief of a tribe, had died and she had taken his place, Criss was surprised. a very strong woman Geralda, told me her tribe didn't need my help... Breaking out of the memory he hears the end of the woman's sentence. He nods at Staryth's condolences, offering his own. "I'm sorry about your brother, though it was no murder, I too have lost someone close to me before." He pauses before going on, "Your news makes this situation seem more important than I at first thought." She seems capable. And determined. Not to mention that tower shield seemed quite formidable. He begins to think this group, though diverse as Staryth states, has more to it than first glance.
When Atix arrives, Criss removes his studded leather and composite bow and requests that his funds go towards improving them.
"Wine, hey? Well, I'm not much of a connoisseur, but you're on!"
Former bandits? As in he killed bandits? And he laughs about it? That's cold...
"Hey Criss. Guy here says he's got some leather armour, but he's also got some special quilted armour. Which do you reckon I should get?"
Criss takes a look at the two 'armours'. How a quilted cloth could be called armour Criss isn't sure. It seemed overpriced to him also. Perhaps it did possess some protective qualities. But it was definitely not as tough as leather. "Leather is superior. Thicker. Tougher." He points to his own studded leather. "This is also light enough to not slow me down when I need to move, and I like being able to move as quickly as posssible."
"Okay - leather it is!"
Staryth, having handed over his lute, finds himself grateful for his own limited magics. Anyone is welcome to join him as he performs for some extra coin, but he doesn't expect them to take him up on it for a full eight hours.
Staryth makes his way to the market, takes his hat off, and with a gesture, another lute appears in his hand, though it is not the favorite he has yielded up to transformation.
And he begins singing,
"Have you seen my true heart?
I haven't met her yet.
But I'm sure I'll come to know her
if the gods are kind to me.
Her hair is like a raven's feather,
or perhaps it shines like gold?
She's lush with curves
or lithe like a willow
I can see her so clearly.
Her laughter is light and airy,
else its a throaty purr
Her eyes, they are as gray
as a fog filled day
or perhaps they're as blue as the sky
I'm speaking of the trueheart just for me
Oh she's one of a kind
of that I'm sure
if only I could pick her out of a crowd
I'd know her instantly, if I could only agree
what she looks like, what she moves like
how she sounds.
Have you seen my true heart?
Have you met your own?
Wander search, strive and seek
tis better than being alone."
He doffs his hat, leaving it for others to fill with coin if they like the song.
Of course, he must take breaks now and then, his voice is not made of steel that it can endure too much for too long,and when he takes breaks, he talks with the locals getting to know them.
And he also listens to their tales for any news of those who would slay the children of nex.
If he has learned anything, he shares what he knows with the others, but will soon be out to make more coin. Perhaps it IS a swindle, the most elaborate swindle I've heard of, but gods, I need a new life, and such chances, such stories await if I can but achieve the necessary coin.
This time he tries something a bit more ominous as he hangs in the shadowy spots
"Ivory bridge! Ivory bridge, do you have my grandfather's bones?
From flesh stripped, and innards ripped
a gruesome wandering way
From Flesh Stripped and innards ripped
a path on which children do not play
Ivory Bridge! Ivory Bridge! My foot fears to walk upon
For I swear I hear the screams of souls that my own soles are stomping on.
Ivory Bridge! Ivory Bridge! You're wide and long enough.
Let my bones be, stay away from me.
And content you in your state."
And again he seeks out knowledge, this time about their benefactor and host, and what he likes
Atix shows Ormiz his library in a small cupboards sized room. There are some twenty volumes on magical theory and extraplanar beings which have a dog eared well read look to them.
Staryth's initial performance is received well enough, but few stop for long to listen in the busy town. The second day he steps up his game and a small crowd gathers, eventually earning the attentions of a number of guards who begin directing traffic allowing people to remain for a few minutes before reminding them of their tasks. Eventually from citizens and the guards themselves he ends up with a fair bit of silver, adding up to 4gps worth in total.
Finally the last descendant arrives as the man steps through into the grand entrance hall of the Magnificent Mansion Atix has servants fetch his guests.
Then the stone mephit flies to the top of the stairs and knocks upon the forbidding oak door at their top. The doors open moments later and a wizard steps through, at first he does not appear to be a tall man, but a moments observation reveals he is tall, but slumped with weariness, he has great bags under his eyes, a furrowed brow, and a thunderous expression. He bares a rune carved staff, wears deep blue robes that seem to shimmer with points of light and a black braided beard.
"Gentlemen I shall keep this brief and to the point, I have little time for niceties, and little patience. You are here because I wish to use you, if you prove yourselves worthy. For that reason I must ask you to prove yourselves. Survive and we shall speak further."
Suddenly two giant ants, the size of rottweilers, appear in the group's midst clacking their great mandibles menacingly! Even as they do all of the doors save the shimmering gateway to the outside world vanish.
The newcomer, a lanky man in a long dark duster, seems a little exasperated.
Taking a couple steps he extends his hand and unleashes a blinding spray of light into the bugs' faces.
Both ants seem completely unaffected by the scintillating torrent of color.
"What the hell? the man said, surprised and confused.
Although the sudden appearance of giant ants came as a shock to Grimward, the half-orc gathers his wits quickly.
Bracing himself, Grimward grit his teeth in concentration, summoning an orb of dark energy into his open palm. It crackled with eldritch power.
With a grunt he lobs the glowing sphere at the nearest ant.
He watches with a grin of satisfaction as the energy burns into the carapace of the vermin. In a single swift motion, he then draws his falchion in readiness for melee combat.
Ormiz fights down his immediate urge to flee
If I don't get this I'm dead anyway, right? Only one chance to make a first impression...
"Hey, new guy! Celestial ants. No mind to effect, resistant to magic, acid, cold, lightning... but not fire!"
As he speaks Ormiz is stepping sideways to stand with Staryth, reaching into his new voluminous armoured coat for a vial "How do you fight in this thing?" He asks as he throws. Despite his question the vial flies true and explodes into a gout of fire.
Oh yeah! hitting a 5ft patch of stone 20ft away! Hello sobriety!
As the vial flies Ormiz draws his dagger and steps next to Staryth.
A splash weapon is a ranged weapon that breaks on impact, splashing or scattering its contents over its target and nearby creatures or objects. To attack with a splash weapon, make a ranged touch attack against the target. Thrown splash weapons require no weapon proficiency, so you don't take the –4 nonproficiency penalty. A hit deals direct hit damage to the target, and splash damage to all creatures within 5 feet of the target. If the target is Large or larger, you choose one of its squares and the splash damage affects creatures within 5 feet of that square. Splash weapons cannot deal precision-based damage (such as the damage from the rogue's sneak attack class feature).
You can instead target a specific grid intersection. Treat this as a ranged attack against AC 5. However, if you target a grid intersection, creatures in all adjacent squares are dealt the splash damage, and the direct hit damage is not dealt to any creature. You can't target a grid intersection occupied by a creature, such as a Large or larger creature; in this case, you're aiming at the creature.
If you miss the target (whether aiming at a creature or a grid intersection), roll 1d8. This determines the misdirection of the throw, with 1 falling short (off-target in a straight line toward the thrower), and 2 through 8 rotating around the target creature or grid intersection in a clockwise direction. Then, count a number of squares in the indicated direction equal to the range increment of the throw. After you determine where the weapon landed, it deals splash damage to all creatures in that square and in all adjacent squares.
Staryth was pleased by the coin he made, Seems they favor the more morbid songs of Geb. Then again, it is new here.
......
Then the stone mephit flies to the top of the stairs and knocks upon the forbidding oak door at their top. The doors open moments later and a wizard steps through, at first he does not appear to be a tall man, but a moments observation reveals he is tall, but slumped with weariness, he has great bags under his eyes, a furrowed brow, and a thunderous expression. He bares a rune carved staff, wears deep blue robes that seem to shimmer with points of light and a black braided beard.
Staryth no sooner bows to the man, when he hears how the fellow has 'little time for niceties' and giant ants pop up.
He's stunned to see them, undead are common in Geb, but giant ants?
Backing up a bit in surprise He reaches for his short bow, rallies himself and hopefully others as he begins to sing.
"Ants at a picnic
how depressing and how droll
especially if said ants, might treat you like a sweetened roll!
But ants are for stomping, as any child knows
So fight, fight, fight!
Like the picnicking warriors of ole!"
A varation of an old child song he heard, but nothing else comes to mind. Regardless of what might thing of the words, the cadence somehow comes across as militant.
Chittering eagerly the ants step forward, one
Chittering eagerly the ants step forward, one ant snaps its mandibles togehter upon thin air as Grimward dodges aside, but its stinger sinks into his thigh the wound burning hot for a moment as it injects its venom!
The other ant attacks Ormiz snatching him up in its mandibles and crushing him in his armored coat, blood flowing as barbs pierce his skin and his ribs creak! The stinger also lashes out but whips through through the air failing to make contact.
Criss refits himself with his new armour, thanking Atix as well. He straps it on, the feeling as if he was getting an entire new set of armour readily apparent. Once he had it back on he flexed and stretched, testing its limits.
incredible. It seems more flexible and gives me more freedom than before but still gives the same protection.
He rolls his shoulders several times just to get a complete feel of his 'new' armour. He is very appreciative of the improvements. Picking up his bow he lines it up. It's balance is also improved, allowing him a steadier aim. After a minute he slings it over his shoulder.
Noticing the 6th person to enter the room, Criss looks over at him. Wondering if this was the last member they were expecting. He seemed younger than Criss but that was all he could get as Atix flew away. As the great wizard they had been expecting appears, Criss relaxes, thinking they would finally get some answers and perhaps direction as to what they wanted of them. His quick speach confused Criss and he stood there for several seconds, not paying much attention until he heard the shouts of the others.
Two huge ants were in the midst of the room, Criss now understood the man's words and knew this was a test, or the old man was insane, perhaps both. Though caught off guard Criss reacted instantly, knowing the beasts were similar to others he had seen before but called from some other place, he hears Ormiz and agrees, "He's right!" Seeing the half-orc under attack he draws his bow and fires at the ant attacking him.
Attack ant 1(-DA/into melee)
Damage
The arrow buries itself deep into the ants midsection and satisfaction shows on his face, but only momentarily. He runs up behind it, preparing to flank or help Grimward.
Chittering eagerly the ants step forward, one ant snaps its mandibles togehter upon thin air as Grimward dodges aside, but its stinger sinks into his thigh the wound burning hot for a moment as it injects its venom.
The burly half-orc lets out a roar of pain as the vermin's stinger strikes him hard.
Grimward flinches, but bites back the pain and manages to absorb the worst of the venom. The timely appearance of Criss and a well placed arrow bolstering his resolve, and his pained expression gives way to a relieved grin. "I owe you an ale Criss!"
Yet across the room Grimward suddenly notices Ormiz being mauled by the other beast.
Hang in there little man.
Gwen's patience had been tested waiting for this 'great wizard.' When he appeared and suddenly summoned creatures to try to kill them, her patience snapped. "What in Hell is your problem, you lunatic?" When Staryth starts singing a jaunty tune, she grits her teeth and tries to focus through the irritating noise. While the armor and shield slow her dramatically, her guard training kicks in immediately. Her hand unsnaps the soft leather of the holster that holds her pistol with practiced movements. Someone with less training drawing a gun would do so far slower in their haste. She recalls in a flash of memory something one of her trainers told her: 'Slow is smooth, and smooth is fast.'
As she steps away from behind Grimward for a straight shot, Gwen takes aim with the pistol, squeezing on the trigger even as she brings the weapon up and out. While the massive tower shield makes it difficult to use any weapon, she uses it as to stabilize her aim by pressing the pistol against the side of the shield and lining it up with her target. The ant closer to her clacks its mandibles as it attacks Grimward right as Criss launches an arrow into its midsection. She exhales and finishes squeezing the trigger right at the apex of her breath. A loud crack of noise and a flash of flame snap out of the gun, as does a metal projectile moving too quickly to see. A spurt of blood comes out of the ant's head as a hole appears where she shot the summoned beast. The ant collapses to the ground, shimmering and disappearing as it does.
Even before the ant hits the ground, Gwen puts the gun back in her hoslter. It would take a while for her to reload and force her to put her shield down. While she is quicker than most at reloading, she thinks (and not for the first time) that she badly needs to get some of the fancy ammunition preloaded with paper cartridges of gunpowder. She lifts her right leg, pulling a sharp curved knife out of the outside of her boot.
Vance steps back and unleashes a bolt of magic from his fingertips.
Ormiz flashes back to a time when he was six and was grabbed by a teenager. That time he managed to wiggle free...
Slick as an eel Ormiz slips out of his coat as the ant wrestles the thick leather. Landing in a crouch Ormiz starts to get away.
Grimward blinks in surprise as the head of the giant ant exploded, the vermin collapsing to the ground before disappearing. Whoa... Snapping back to attention, the half-orc focuses his attention on the remaining creature.
Gripping his blade in both hands he flies past Criss towards the new target, adrenaline and Staryth's music urging him onwards.
Grimward let's loose a satisfied snarl as his blade cuts a wide gash across the ant's thorax.
Staryth steps for a clearer shot, and fires at the remaining ant during his chorus.
The ant reeling from the barrage lunges for Grimward, his weapon the only visible close at hand and the pain he inflicted severe.
In a pain fueled madness it buries it sting in the half orc's stomach even as its mandibles close around his throat snapping down with terrible force, crushing and tearing into his throat, and sending his limp body tumbling to the marble tiles, his throat a punctured and torn ruin through which bloody spittle sprays as he tries to draw breath!
Grimward's broken body staggered back, bleeding out profusely and falling to one knee. He grasped at his throat in a pathetic attempt to stop the bleeding.
"Get up you coward! The half-orc twitched, a memory haunting his thoughts, his eyes widened and seemed to take on a red glow.
"Are you dead yet?!" Drenched in blood and barely breathing, Grimward's eyes stared passed the monstrous ant, to something beyond. His delirious mind continued its trick.
"I said, ARE YOU DEAD YET!?"
Spitting up mouthfuls of blood, Grimward pushes himself up to his feet, struggling to stop himself from collapsing. Snarling in rage and pain he weakly gripped his falchion. He could do little more than gasp, "Nah... Dea... YET!!.
As he runs up to the ant to help Grimward he hears an explosion coming from his left. With his ears ringing the ant collapses as he gets to its side. It fades away and he notices a small piece of something metallic land on the stones. the bandit stood in front of one of the women, pointing a device in his hand at her head. A loud noise rang out and over Criss from his hiding point. The woman collapsed, blood soaking the dust. "What magic is this?" Criss killed the man and destroyed the device, burying it deep. His first and only experience since then of guns.
The battle cry of the half orc rushing past him pulled him back to the present. An instant had passed. Turning to the other side of the room he saw Grimward charge and wound the creature, only for it to turn around and attack him. Seeing the very hurt Ormiz had barely escaped with his life, Criss aimed once again to take down this last monster.. As Grimward is ripped apart Criss shouts out loud an incoherent cry, all his anger going towards the summoned ant. He could not let this thing continue to hurt anyone else.
Attack
Damage
How is that guys still standing?!? Ormiz wonders, watching the appalling spectacle of Grimward stagger around.
The ant collapses under the weight of its injuries with Criss's arrow still quivering in its abdomen.
Atix whoops and begins clapping vigorously, but Akil merely watches on his gaze locked upon Grimward and his plight.
Staryth drops his bow and rushes to Grimward as soon as the ant is dead, "easy, easy, not to alarm you, but your entrails have become your out-trails...I can help." Rather than words, Staryth gives a low throaty note that might remind some of the chants heard in religious ceremonies. Grimward can feel the vibrations run along the wound, though oddly there is no pain with the pressure of the sound.
Slowly, Grimward's wounds start to seal, though so extensive are they that a gaping hole still remains. Staryth takes a deep breath, "let's try that again, shall we?" And again the deep note reverberates through the Oracle's body.
Staryth is pleased to see the effects of his spell as, while still wounded, it becomes clear that his distant cousin is going to live. He wipes his brow, "I'm afraid that's all I can give."
Staryth drops his bow and rushes to Grimward as soon as the ant is dead, "easy, easy, not to alarm you, but your entrails have become your out-trails...I can help."
Grimward, near death and still delirious, babbled, "No, you can't... he'll kill us both if..."
He pauses mid-sentence as the healing restores some of his faculties.Staryth takes a deep breath, "let's try that again, shall we?" And again the deep note reverberates through the Oracle's body.
Now managing to stay upright, the half-orc looks around, beginning to chuckle. He then casts the same spell on himself:
"Thank you friend."
He then slumps to the ground in exhaustion, still chuckling at his near-death experience.
The wizard, Akil Akanarton, taps his staff upon the ground to draw the groups attention,
"You have done well. I am impressed. You are here because I wish to use you, I wish to use you because I think it is in your interests to be so used - and in mutual self interest lies our trust. You have the blood of our Lord Nex, who we Arclords have been loyal to for these thousands of years, but that does not extend our loyalty to you. We believe that some of Nex's direct descendants may be able to bring him back, there are thousands of such people, so do not overestimate your import. But out of those thousands only a few hundred seem capable, we judge you amongst their number.
Now we believe that the Council of Three and Nine will deal with Geb. We believe that some of their number will betray our nation, in exchange for becoming new Bloodlords who rule over these lands. We have little proof of this save suspicions and inferences, but such an offer was made to one of our number - who is no longer with us, but managed to relay the information before his assassination.
Geb's first demand was that those with Nex's blood be given over to him. This tax is a net to gather those with the blood, they are paving the way to move, and we Arclords would oppose them. To do so we must mount a clandestine war. We must gather evidence to stir the populace, we must oppose the agents of Geb, and we must safeguard as many as possible of Nex's descendants. And most important of all we must find Nex, for only he can oppose the vengeful ghost of his ancient foe.
Aide us and we will reward you well, oppose us and you will soon find every hand turned against you. Forgive my lack of eloquence, but that is the simple truth and no garnish will improve its bitter taste.
If you would aide us I have several tasks which need completing. I need men I can trust in the so called Debtors Camp. I need men to travel into Geb and strike at the Bloodlords to buy us time. And I need men to treat with the wasteland tribes and gain their allegiance. Tell me that I can count on you, and tell me to which task you think yourselves best suited. Try to keep any questions brief, I must restore myself and leave shortly."
"Thank you friend."
He then slumps to the ground in exhaustion, still chuckling at his near-death experience.
"Feel free to return the favor later when I need it," Staryth replies with an easy smile.
When the staff is tapped on the ground, he does indeed pay attention.
How many people have died in tests like these? It becomes obvious to him as he hears the Arclord talk that the masters of Nex can be every bit as ruthless as the nobles of Geb.
He listens to the talk of this invitation to a clandestine war, and his hopes rise for a moment. He bears the nobles of his land no love after all, if they lived through the war, the Quick of Geb might be far better off under Nex.
Then...
"If you would aide us I have several tasks which need completing. I need men I can trust in the so called Debtors Camp. I need men to travel into Geb and strike at the Bloodlords to buy us time. And I need men to treat with the wasteland tribes and gain their allegiance. Tell me that I can count on you, and tell me to which task you think yourselves best suited. Try to keep any questions brief, I must restore myself and leave shortly."
His face pales a bit, Oh gods, I just ESCAPED from Geb. He takes a deep breath, "Not all the Quick... living, in Geb are wicked. Indeed, I think some would welcome liberation. This war, what can be done to protect the innocent of Geb in such a thing? When great powers contend, the common are oft crushed."