"The fee's not just for me, but for the guy you want to see. Give me a down payment of fifty clacks and I'll take you to see him."
Jareen's jaw drops open a little at the amount, but he knows better than to interfere with Arakan's negotiations.
Arakan looks cooly at the man, trying not to show his obvious distaste for the asking price, "Fifty you say? I thought I was in the market to ask a man for gardening tips? So, why are you asking for prices akin to someone looking to buy illegal substances? Let's not be ridiculous about this. What great secret is meeting the plant tender of this small oasis that you would ask for that much just to tell us where to find him?" Sometimes Arakan cannot hide his condecension, and this seems to be one of the times. He has fared poorly thus far in this discussion, and grits his teeth at the idea that he may be forced to dole out the fifty, maybe more if his last retort doesn't go over well.
The man smiles at Arakan - it isn't pretty, or especially friendly. "What do you think it is we grow here? It's not cucumbers."
Arakan purses his lips and sighs deeply through his nose. "Okay. I conceed. I'll.... No, we'll, pay the amount. When we meet the guy. I will count it out for you, and put it in a seperate pouch so you know we are good for it. Once we arrive, we will hand it over. Until then, my obtuse companion here," he indicates Th'Kal standing by not even paying attention to the preceedings as much as there protectively over Arakan and Jareen. "who is obviously incapable of deception. Deal?"
Th'Kal continues to stare off into the distance, apparently not paying attention. The only clue that he is alive and not a statue is the periodic twitching of his left antennae.
At the mention of his name, his head tilts a little, but he makes no other comment. Content to let Arakan do his job in the clutch. Th'Kal's also okay with being called "obtuse", assuming that Arakan was meaning "large".
"Alright. Show me the money and we've got a deal."
Arakan tries to gather as much of their as is present so they can each give up a share of the price. He sure as heck isn't going to take it all out of his pocket, even if the price is fairly low compared to what he has.
Once the coin is collected, he shows the man, then wraps in a bundle of cloth to hand to Th'Kal. "Hold on to this until this man introduces us to who we are looking for." Then back to the man he asks, "Satisfied? Now shall we go?"
"Alright, come on."
The man gets up and heads out of the bar. He leads the group up the track that forms the main street in the village, where a few drunks stagger about or vomit while guards look on, before heading up an alley between two buildings and out to the relative peace of the fields. It is beginning to go dark and dark shadows from the high cliffs begin to stretch. He walks to a small barn, set aside from the rest, surrounded by rows of unfamiliar-looking crops.
The barn door is partially open, enough to walk through. He beckons the party on as he slips inside ahead of them.
Jareen admires the plants, but doesn't notice anything about them.
Th'Kal stores the coins and follows.
Like, Jareen, 'Kal just admires the area. He has some knowledge of the natural world, but misses whatever the detail is...
Arakan's eyes shine with an almost child-like joy. He takes in all the plants, cataloging them mentally. All the same, he issues warnings to the other two, "Don't touch that one... look out for those spines... if you cook that down to a paste... well you can.. ah nevermind. Let's say, I could find a use for every one of these. Just don't eat any of them."
When they get to the barn, Arakan indicates that Th'Kal should enter first. If this is a trap, he wants the heavy hitter, and heavy hit-taker at the fore.
Th'Kal would take point as indicated. He keeps his lower arms resting on his axe handle as he opens the door wide. Trying to keep it open and free for easy maneuvering.
If the place seems free of ambush, he'd enter all the way to make room for the rest of the party.
Cahel plods along with the group. If it weren't for the fact that half-giants are rarely loquacious, one might think him sulking... or lost in thought.
The group move through the door. Inside, they find four men, one a hulking half-giant, plus their contact from the bar. They are a scurvy-looking lot, dressed in well-worn armour and bearing more than a few scars. They seem engaged in a variety of tasks, with scarves wrapped around their faces, looking up as the strangers enter. The atmosphere inside the barn is smoky and acrid, with ceramic flasks bubbling over oil burners, the distillates dripping into glass phials. Tables are covered with mortars and pestles and mysterious powders sit in bowls. Bunches of dried herbs hand in profusion from the ceiling, together with the sting from a giant desert scorpion as big as a man's arm. At the far end of the barn sits a large, mangle-like contraption, the rollers spiked and stickily smeared with red.
One of them pulls down his scarf to reveal a pock-marked face with half his nose chopped away in some past battle. "So, Ched tells me you want to know how we grow things here. What's your interest?"
Arakan takes the sight of it all in stride, not confused or amazed by what exactly is happening here, but hopeful that he may be able to work out an arrangement. Nonetheless, he wasn't actually here for that, "Well, my interest is two-fold. For me personally, it may be one we should discuss more privately, but for the bunch of us as a whole I can ask outright. We have heard rumor of a druid living or working around this oasis, and hoped to speak to them about some omens or portents we have noticed." It was odd for him to play his hand so openly, but he wanted to get the niggling mission out of the way so he could focus on his own desires.
"Huh? Omens and portents?" The men look at one another in confusion. Half-Nose looks at Ched, who shrugs.
Ched says, "He said he wanted to talk to the plant-tenders here, saw some interesting plants and wanted some growing tips. Thought he was either a client or a competitor - either way, thought you'd want to see him. Didn't mention anything mystical to me."
Half-Nose gives him a long withering look, then turns back to Arakan and suddenly smiles ingratiatingly, revealing blackened stumps in his gums. "Growing tips... See, what we do here, we grow special plants. The lethal kind, the sort that you carefully process" - he waves a hand about the various paraphenalia - "before slipping in the tea of someone you really want to die. Or maybe a resin to coat a blade, just to make sure they don't walk away from that brawl. It's something House Tsalaxa specialises in."
The men begin to move, slowly fanning out to move to the sides of the visitors.
"But see, it's not just in the processing. Oh no! The growing is important too. You see, it's all in the mulch. What is mulch? I hear you cry. Well, its stuff you place on the soil around the plants to help feed them, make them grow strong. Manure, for example, is often used, and it has its place - we use it too. But we have a special ingredient. We don't tell most people the secret, but for some we make an exception.
"After generations of study within the House, we have concluded that for a poison to be especially effective, it must know its intended victim. Not exactly the same person, but the same race. Roughly, more or less. Dig its roots in, taste the blood and flesh. So we add a mulch to allow our plants to do exactly that. Obviously, just dropping a dead body in the field would be aesthetically unappealing and could give rise to potentially awkward questions. So we use a special apparatus to grind them up" - he indicates the red-smeared grinding machine at the back of the shed - "so we can mix it with other stuff, help it rot down, and benefit the plant much more."
The men begin unlimbering weapons. "And just as we were running low, in you came." He stops smiling.
Arakan just nods along as the man chatters about poisons, as if he didn't already know clearly what was going on here. He is annoyed to learn there is no real sign of any druid at all amongst them, especially with that crappy idea that the plants grow better with the flesh of the dead. Reluctantly, he realizes that he's about to be involved in one more fight he doesn't want any part of.
"Arakan, you owe me 50."
Th'Kal shakes his head in concert with Arakan, attempting to mimick his understanding. But when lethal intent is clear, his axe springs to his upper limbs ready for carnage...
<zzzZZt> "You are making bad choices, plantmen."
Th'Kal entered earlier than most and probably would've been near Abakan, so I'll take M5.
I would think that Furio would've taken opposite Kal, so M8.
Minor Action: Summon Protector Spirit in L8
Move Action: Move to M7
Standard Action: Protecting Strike on HGi
vs Will
Jareen reels from the blow, but refuses to give ground, staying upright and right where he is.
"Hit an old man would you? Well let's see how long you think that's a good idea for! Hmmmm!"
Cahel's spirit lashes at the half-giant, making it snarl with pain.
Lanky moves around the table to the one on the furthest wall with the finished items on it. He grabs one, and throws it at Arakan. It explodes into choking dust.
Th'Kal roars and flings himself forward into Ched.
Ched grunts with pain as Th'Kal's axe scrapes off his leather armour. But he moves nimbly, sliding round to an advantageous position and stabbing with his bone sword.
Jareen steps back and then mutters a spell.
Some of the villains begin looking droopy eyed and sway with tiredness. So, unfortunately, does Th'Kal.
Furio locks up with the half-giant thug... laughing at Th'Kal being on the ground again. He probably says something ill-timed and derogatory to the Kreen. Years as a gladiator has made every fight seem like a show.