Timbur looks on, very confused.
"Oh, they want your beard Bolgar. Don't worry, you can contribute.", Tollo says, "helpfully".
"WHAT????" Bolgar steps back, aghast.
"Might as well lop off one of my hands and gamble with that! Or some other... part. No sane and respectable man goes without a beard!"
Bolgar looks around for a moment.
"Er... present company excepted, of course."
Zuberi looks at Bolgar "Why don't you bet some of your beard then, bit of a trim..."
Before Tollo has a chance to roll the incredibly tiny dice, the lead etruvian holds up his hands to motion for patience.
"Now, wait, wait, wait. What are you betting here? How much are you willing to lose if I win?"
Horek eyes the dice, then brushes one large hand through his own thick hair. "I could use a trim, but maybe you should explain the rules. How are supposed to read the runes on this tiny little dice? How will we know if we win or lose, without relying on you to tell us?"
Zuberi looks at Bolgar "Why don't you bet some of your beard then, bit of a trim..."
"Och, no laddie, I don't think so. I can watch the hall while you madmen gamble your beards away."
As Tollo doesn't speak Kellish, he indicates his entire head of hair and pantomimes a pair of scissors.
"Tell 'em I'll put it all on the line!"
Horek chuckles at Bolgar's reaction and turns to the dwarven cleric. "I have faith in you, master dwarf. If you will roll the dice and make the bet, I will put up my own hair in place of your own. All of it." The half-orc brushes his callused hand through his thick, dark hair again. "I believe it will grow back. And in the meantime, it will make me look even more fierce, yes?"
The creatures become very interested and happily agitated when Tollo offers to wager his entire head of hair on the next dice roll. One of them even flies over to the halfling to inspect his head, looking at it from a few different angles before returning to his companions, seemingly satisfied.
The lead etuvian grabs the gourd with the tiny bone dice and gives a few wild shakes, his whole body lifting off the ground with the effort. He flies up into the air, performing two whole somersaults and a twirl, and then lets them clatter onto the crate, landing on it standing on one leg.
Looking down at the dice, he gives a bit of a disappointed expression, but then perks up.
"Good thing I was standing only on one leg, otherwise that would have been a terrible roll. But since I was, I get to roll again."
He then picks up the gourd and begin the entire rolling ritual dance again ...
Tollo settles on a strategy of ambiguous body language, gyrating and flinging his limbs while he rolls during the ritual so as to have plausible claim for a re-roll should his results be under the etuvian's.
"Oh, dear. Good thing I twirled in the incorrect direction that time..."
The young wizard pulls out a pen and parchment. He then begins recording the rules....
Tamru looks on with a clearly confused expression.
Certainly the cleric would've lost all of his hair by now without an inkling of how, had he been the one playing.
"I think I'll have the most hair with my eyebrows before long..."
The head etuvian claps his hands slowly in an ironic manner after Tollo performs his dice roll.
"That was the most blatant act of cheating I have ever seen, Little Giant, and I've lived on this planet for over 200 years. Why don't you try again, and this time try not to trip over your own d**k. I'll give you that one for free."
The creature gives his widest, most tooth-filled grin, and hands the dice cup back to Tollo.
Timbur listens as folks translate.
”Oh I don’t think Tollo could do that. He’s just a little guy.”
Loges drops his quill.
Horek slaps his hand over his eyes, shaking his head back and forth. Though it is a gesture of exasperation, the half-orc is grinning widely, his body convulsing as he tries to hold back his laughter...
"Your mother would disagree, Timbur."
"I certainly wouldn't know *anything* about cheating- it's just that my gigantic brain must be finding new ways to enliven this little diversion of yours.", he says, rolling it again.
”My mother died giving birth to me. The people in my village said I was too big and ripped her apart coming out.”
After a few seconds of awkward silence, he adds, ”So I think she would agree that you’re just a little guy.”
"Wow, thanks for that Timbur. Way to bring the room down."
"I did that once too, when I was a kid. Actually, it was a lean-to. I didn't mean to wreck it. Old Man Mullins got really mad about that."
Loges bursts out laughing.
Startled by the sudden laughter, Timbur is slightly hurt. "It's not my fault. I was too big and clumnsy."
The young wizard pat Timbur on the back.
And, am I better for it, my friend!
Bolgar looks at Timbur softly.
"Don't feel bad, lad. You didn't choose the shape you were born in, and your mother's death is nae your fault. Plenty of mothers I've known would give their life to save the life of their wee bairn, so dinnae think that your ma is cross with you. Live a good life an' she'll be happy."
The etuvian rolls the dice and smiles broadly when he comes up with a winning combination. He looks up, his eyes sparkling at Tollo, and speaks something in a high, chittering tongue to one of his companion. She flies off and lands next to an open crate and reaches inside, pulling out a pair of metal shears nearly as big as she is. She awkwardly drags them back to the dice game and hands them to the lead fey.
"Here you go, Little Giant," he says, handing the scissors over to the halfling. "Don't forget to get all around the back. I'll be able to knit myself two new suits with all the hair from back there alone!"
With a withering glare, Tollo starts shearing. ”That’s MISTER Giant to you.”
Tollo manages to get it surprisingly even all the way around, considering that he’s cutting blind.
The etuvian greedily takes all of Tollo's hair as it is handed to him.
"Wonderful, wonderful!" he beams, starting to tie sections of it into knots and handing over handfuls of it to the other winged creatures to do the same.
"Now, who wants to go next?"
Horek reaches for the dice and takes them. "May I allow Bolgar to roll, and put up my own hair instead of his own as the bet?" He gestures to the bearded cleric, but waits for an answer from the mischievous pixies before handing the dice over to the dwarf.
The etuvian looks suspiciously at Horek and Bolgar but then shrugs his shoulders.
"That would be fine as long as both agree, although some of his chin hair would be quite a treasure!"
"Oh, no, lad. You want to be losing your hair, you can only blame yourself. I'll take nae part in it."
Horek chuckles, then casts the dice to fall as they may...
The etuvian smiles again as the dice roll in his favor. He hands the shears to Horek, noting "Your hair is a bit stiffer and will surely make for some interesting garments. Don't forget to get all around the back, giant."
"Even if I wasn't shaved I think I'd steer clear at this stage. This is just sad so far."
Bolgar looks around at the others.
"Are ye all done with this foolishness yet? If they really want your hair, ye could offer to just trade it to them. Whatever ye have left o' it, anyhow."
"Aren't you all about knowledge, Loges? You've still got plenty of hair left, after all."
The etuvians begin to look a bit disappointed that no one else seems to want to take them up on their offer. They converse in their high-pitched, sing-songy language, taking sidelong glances at the giants.
"Rich boy doesn't want to put his skin in the game, as usual. Fine. Let's go find your dog lady, Tamru.", Tollo says, leaving the bug people to their piles of hair.
Horek does a decent job on his 'haircut', not missing any patches of hair that might make him the butt of a few jokes. The half-orc cannot help but run his thick fingers along his stubbly scalp, but he only chuckles on occasion, not particularly perturbed by his new look.
The etuvians look quite sad as they see you leave.
"Well, we're down here most days playing our game if you ever want to come back and throw the dice. Feel free to return when your hair grows back or you grow a pair of b***s!"
The final joke sends the strange fey creatures into a titter as they collapse in laughter, slapping their legs.
Zuberi looks around at the others "Well that didn't work out for us at all did it. Where should we try next? At least there wasn't anyone giving out about stupid bees."
Loges claps his hands together.
The young wizard then sits down. He eyes the dice. He waves his hand over them, muttering nonsense.
Looks goid. All right! All for all. All my hair on my head and chin for all the information that we desire from you.
The wizard awaits their response.
[dice=Int]1d20+4+1
The etuvian's face goes sour as his dice fail him for the first time.
"Well, well, well, it seems that one of you has some mojo after all! All right, gather around children, and I will tell you a little story."
The head etuvian sits down on the crate and crosses his legs; the others do the same.
"I don't know exactly how you giants count time. We etuvians dont have much use for time, being immortal and all. But this story takes place a long time ago by anyone's reckoning."
"Long ago, the fair city of Cynidicea was ruled by a wise pair named King Alexander and Queen Zenobia. They built this pyramid to honor the gods of this land, and housed the clergy here as well. The gods were pleased, and the land and its people flourished. For many years all was well. As they got older, though, the king and queen began to fear their own looming death. They wished to live forever and so they tasked their priests and mages to search for a path to immortality for them. As the research became costlier, Zenobia and Alexander shifted more and more of the kingdom's resources away from taking care of their land and its people. Eventually the people had enough and rebelled and overthrew the selfish King and Queen. Alexander was killed in the battle, but Zenobia survived. Her people weren't through with her, though. They entombed her while she was still alive, marking her burial with a rune of binding. The priests tried to rule after that for a while, but they had their own troubles later with the cult of Zargon, but that's another story."
The young wizard furiously records the story.
Horek murmurs almost to himself. "So she found immortality. Of a sort." The half-orc returns his attention to the strange faerie creature. "What can you tell us of this cult of Zargon? How do the Torm cultists figure into this story? Are they descendants of these priests you mentioned?"