”As you no doubt know, every dragon has its strengths… and it’s weaknesses.” Krowe says to the dwarves, using the rhetoric one might employ with peers. ”Black dragons are clever, but predictable. With magical flight we soared over the hobgoblin forces in Fort Trevalay and strait into the dragon’s lair.”
”It had laid traps, but we were too quick. It breathed acid, but I had prepared a spell to protect us. It tried to hide in magical darkness, but in the end none of its tricks could save it. Over and over Faolan attacked and dodged its teeth while Bazsil fired deadly arrows. In the end it died, crushed under Faolan’s shield.”
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The Synod listens carefully to this section, however you can tell they are not very interested. They perk up at the descriptions of battle, but focus mostly on their food during talk of fey and forests. Karburtin is knowledgeable about the Fangwood fey, but has little interest in the politics of Nirmathas. Lady Thramirra shows some passing interest in the fortresses and defenses employed.
As the main dish is cleared and you're waiting for dessert, you prepare to win them over with your fight directly against the Legion. The first third of your third tale should detail the plight of Radya's Hollow and how you dealt with it.
Krowe sits down after his part and tries not to stab at his food.
These sodding hairy munchkins wouldn’t know a good story if it punched them in the beard! Next time illustrate your power with a fireball, or disintegration.. bah, nevermind, they probably couldn’t tell the difference between a meteor swarm and dancing lights. Time to research a summon beer spell.
Bazsil steps up to talk about the fight with the Legion.
"It all rested on the strength of Faolan's shield..." Bazsil begins his oration, not f*+*ign around with his edda. He's practiced this verse many times, and would give due credit where credit is due...and that's to the toughness of the defenders, and Faolan's shields.
Perform (Oratory) - 2nd phase
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Bazsil pauses to catch his breath as his voice really begins to open up in earnest. This part of his edda is not yet as polished as the earlier sections, but he'll still give it is all.
"...and though madness in his eyes, Bor was focused..."
"...Krowe's honor and good cheer keep us..."
"...and so yes, that is our tale."
Perform (Oratory) - 3rd phase
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"So yeah," Faolan begins, still beat red with embarrassment. His friends were all saying such nice things about him. "Yeah, we had to wipe out the Legion, so we..."
He quickens the pace as he gets into the story. His voice increases in volume as he relives the battles with hobgoblin forces.
But he makes one thing abundantly clear throughout his story. The party, as a group, had all these successes. It's not all Faolan beating on things with his shield. Though that is fun... He makes a point of praising his companions - pointing out all the things they do.
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The dwarves are amazed at Bazsil's command of language and pitch. His voice carries perfectly through the hall and resonates from the walls and ceiling.
It is, however, Faolan's part of the story that moves the Evenhanded Synod. His short, simple words are easy for them to follow and as he gets going he starts thrusting with his fork and smashing his plate on the table. Leftover food flies hither and yon while the dwarves wait with baited breath at every new camp discovered, every foe bested, every ally won. You sense hope rising in them, and excitement for the final siege.
Bazsil once again steps up. Disappointed that Bor and Krowe will not lend their voices to the tale, nonetheless you sense their satisfaction as wave after wave of hobgoblins are crushed against your defenses. The guards and waitstaff will pass down stories of being here and hearing of the siege of Longshadow from a master bard and his assistant.
Lady Thramirra, paladin of the church of Trudd and second child of Kraggodan's king, moves to your side of the table so she might better hear the last part of your tale. She brushes the single white lock of hair out of her face and speaks.
"Heroes, we have now heard how your journey began in the dark, fleeing for your life and covered in the blood of your kin. We have heard of your hiding, scouting, eating bark, and rescuing rangers. Battling fey and dragons, then putting your true foes to the test. Tell us now, what brought you back to the long dark and thereby into our home?"
Sense Motive
Bazsil ponders what is needed.
Bazsil pauses, thinking how to frame the story in the best way possible.
Know (Engineering)
Diplomacy
Bazsil is not yet tired of speaking, nor the sound of his own voice. He will of the Valley of Eloi and the morlocks who were unhelpful. He definitely does not hide their difficulties, but notes the tribulations that got them here…and how much the caverns and stonework played a part in hampering their movement.
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While Bazsil isn't tired of his own voice, you can all tell the dwarves are. His telling is skillful and covers all the important details, but he is beginning to dominate the tale and the dwarves are clearly not having it any more. They are also concerned by the notes of Zanathura detailing how to enter the sky citidel.
"The final part now heroes, tell us of the Darklands and the Long Walk."
”The Darklands,” Faolan begins, looking down into his drink, ”The Darklands are where we came to fail. Not once, but twice we have had to retreat from a superior foe!”
Faolan speaks of his failures, and the team’s losses in facing some of the difficulties of the Darklands. He speaks to the Dwarves resilience, in thriving in such an environment. He brings them to the very gates of the Dwarven complex, describing with a flourish the mightiness of the Dwarven defenses.
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Krowe watches as the dwarves tune out the great rumbling of Bazsil’s theater-voice. Faolan tries to add his support, but he doesn’t hold much hope that playing nice will grab the crowd’s attention.
Calling on his magic, Krowe sets all the silverware and dishes into a thundering rattle on the table.
”The final part of our story has tested us daily. For days we traveled the Long Walk, a place you know well to be treacherous, as can be implied by the size and strength of the doors to Kraggodan. ”
”…radioactive crystals that melts your insides.. mutant morlocks and their evil mistress.. the morlock’s f@king toilet… duergar slavers… porcupine mushroom dragons… underdark fungus foot… duergar slavers, again… sleeping through Faolan’s breath weapon… oozing death… brutish gugs and clever nagas.. and the longest dinner party Golarion has ever seen!”
The voice in his head giggles joyously at the chaos.
”How did we survive, you might ask. We ran, we hid, we made occasional allies in the dark. But mostly we fought and crushed anything that stood between us and the Legion. We are a small, but we don’t travel light.”
Krowe raises his hands.
And a small horde of earth elementals emerge from the walls and rise from the floor. They wait a moment, then bow at his command.
Though not certain he would have chosen shouting as a way to impress the dwarves, he will certainly try to help in Krowe’s more aggressive tactics.
Is this what these dwarves want? Yelling? I can’t tell.
Intimidate to aid
Faolan, as much as he wanted to intimidate people though the gods just didn't give him the skill points to manage it, looks on as Krowe and Bazsil shout at the dwarves.
Part of him wonders if the dwarves are going to enjoy that. They are a little gruff after all!
He waits to see how their stories went with the leaders.
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The dwarves applaud and pound the table as you finish your tale. The nod to each other and you see the guards stand down, sheathing swords and spells.
They all look at the Prince and he nods, then turns to you. "And so adventurers, we have come to the end of your story. But does it end here? Tell us now what you ask of us."
The dwarves watch and wait, ready to hear your petition.
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Bor gets a little pissed when the dwarves are applauding and finish our 'tale' He stands up, knocking the chair behind him down. "This wasn't just some story for your amusement. This was our lives and a lot of lost lives along the way. Not some grand adventure. We are all about to be killed and you likely next as the Hobgoblins are using your tunnels down here to travel around it looks like. What we need are warriors. We need to fight back. We need supplies. But I am glad you are safe enough for now to enjoy 'tales'" He grabs his chair and sits back down hoping someone cleans up his backwash of truth.
Faolan sits quietly as Bor lays down the truth of it to the dwarves. He too feels a little guilty, for he was enjoying some of the stories - the ones where they won anyway. But Bor is right. We're not here for relaxation, but rather a supply break and in the hopes the dwarves will help against the larger evil.
He remains silent and waits to see how the dwarves will react to the unvarnished truth.
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Prince Gorm leans back during Bor's outburst, then responds.
"Safe? You accuse us, who have been at war for 2 years, of being safe? You come to beg our aid and accuse us of not being warriors? You are brash, and ignorant of many things. We took the time out of defending our city to hear your wild conspiracy of hobgoblin thieves out of respect. We asked you to tell us who you are and help us believe you are telling the truth, then you dare spit in our face when we are moved by your journey? You will be returned to your quarters while we deliberate."
The guards escort you back to the Greathammer hall. You find them slightly less welcoming than they were before.
Bazsil returns to Greathammer hall and thinks getting drunk and forgetting the unappreciative crowd altogether would be best.
I spoke my soul to them and they only heard their own whinings. Why did they even ask if they just wanted to hear the echoes of their own problems?
”Where can we get a drink?” Bazsil asks their escorts.
Faolan shrugs at the dwarves hostility. After all, they were dwarves. If they weren't a little hostile, he'd worry they were enchanted by someone... or something.
He returns amiably enough to their chambers, though his ears prick up at Bazsil's suggestion of drink. "Now that's a fine idea!"
"Say, if they let us, any chance we could stay another three days? My shield should be ready tomorrow, but I'd like to get some more work done on this belt if possible. I dunno, feels like I'm forcing it. I guess I'll wait until our next stop."
"Too bad though... Dwarves are known for their craftsmanship."
He, dutifully, practices his flying with his new headband, recently completed. Before the drinking as well for flying drunk is not his idea of a good time.
"I say we stay a few more days. Even if just to remind these stunted fools that the world is bigger than them." Krowe frowns, liking things less now that he's reduced to height puns.
"It's safe enough here, and they have supplies. We could use more time without disruptions for crafting."
At the next meal, which will probably be another variation of over-salted mutton-mushroom soup with a side of dwarven stone bread (which is hard to differentiate from normal stone), Krowe looks to his companions.
"Whatever these half-wits decide, I think we gave our best. Bazsil, I'm no expert on the bardic arts, but your depiction of our story was magnificent. You somehow managed to make us sound heroic even in failure or retreat. Faolan, you should offer your council more often, and I think we should listen better, for you understood these dwarves better than the rest of us."
He turns to Bor, pausing for a moment. "It must have taken great strength of will to hold back your frustration. I feel as though you and I have must walked similar paths before this war. You conceal your scars behind that thin veil, but I have seen them. I bear wounds from my past as well, though not on the surface. I... lost my family. A half-dozen years before the Legion came to Phaendar, they came to Ramsgate, the town I lived in before... few survived the attack."
Krowe's voice fades, unwilling to go into further detail, but looking to Bor to see if the scarred priest has any words of his own.
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"They seemed like they wanted to listen at first." Bor takes a large swig of his ale. "I conceal these scars out of shame and what others may think. First impressions generally don't go well when they see them and most think I am mad to begin with." He sombers up ordering another round. "Sorry to hear about your family. Who were they?"
Krowe struggles to bring up his family’s names. He hasn’t spoken them in years now. ”My family…. was my wife, Dianara, and my children… Marra and Beron.”
He looks at Bor, his eyes watering. ”I know shame as well. The Legion took them, and I did nothing. I should have taken the fight to them, visited vengeance upon them. Had I known these powers I had would grow so powerful…” he sighs, letting his hands drop limp. ”But I didn’t even try. I crawled to Phaendar and tried to forget them.”
After a moment he changes the subject. ”Your scars. How did you get them?”
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Bor clinks his glass against Krowe's "You have family again. In us." His face grows crimson in embarrassment to his scars. His hand runs up to the scarf. "This...this is what cost me for my curiosity. I fell into a crowd eager to see Sivanah's true form. I ended up seeing, something much different." He takes a small drink. "The group was so eager for me to join in their ritual that I failed to see I was the ritual. They pinned me down and restrained me, mutilating my body for gods know what. When I woke up they were all slaughtered, I was covered in blood, both mine and theirs, and I keep seeing these visions because of it. I am not sure what they mean yet."
”My family…. was my wife, Dianara, and my children… Marra and Beron.”
Bazsil bows his head at this revelation, or just something he forgot, because he feels the pain anew.
"I'm sorry. I hope we can get yet more retribution upon them for your loss."
Faolan grows quiet as the men share their stories. Eventually he speaks up, "That's rough you guys. Man. I don't have anything like that in my past. I mean I was slave to the orcs for a time, but mostly they made me fight in their pits - and I like fighting!"
He frowns, unsure what else to say.
He thinks about the dwarves a little while longer, "Do you think we should apologize to them? I mean, we really need their help - right? So maybe we swallow our pride, and our righteousness, and go back hat in hand. I dunno..." He squirms a bit, unsure about the future.
Krowe nods solemnly to Bazsil and Faolan.
To the group, he says, ”Unless Bor feels like apologizing, I say no.”
To Bor, ”You should never feel shame among us. We have been through hell, and will go through it again. For others, if you truly feel the need to cover your scars, I may be able to offer something better than a scarf. A simple illusion, should you want it.”
Faolan nods at Bor, but says ”No. I’ll apologize for all of us. No need for us to apologize individually. I hope.”
Assuming Bor doesn’t change his mind, Faolan will go to the guards/servants/whomever and say, ”We’d like to talk to your high council again. Can you tell them? We’d like to talk to the council.”
”Tell them we’d like to apologize for… er.” he looks to the others, shrugs and says, ”Look. We’d just like to apologize OK? Can you tell the council we want to speak with them again?”
Bazsil doesn't think they should apologize. They tried, they asked, and they explained, repeatedly. But there was no getting through to these dwarves. And if the performance he put on wasn't going to sway them, then an apology wasn't going to help either.
He keeps quiet about it though. If Faolan wanted to do that, he couldn't and wouldn't stop him. He would be there to back him up.
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Karburtin Lightbrand, the archivist who guided you through the city and asked you so many questions about the fey and forests, arrives after your third meal spent waiting. He sits heavily and looks at the remains of food and drink, noting your cautious stares.
"When first you arrived, I was alarmed. Strangers at our back entrance! Still, you had important information and I thought it best to hear you out. We know of the Ironfang Legion, mercenaries primarily employed by Molthune. The evidence we had for the theft pointed at Molthune, though your examination found it could be suspect."
The winged creature from his staff brings him a cup of water, which he drinks before continuing.
"It took time to assemble a quorum of the Evenhanded Synod, the rulers of Kraggodan, and in that time we cast multiple divinations on the evidence. We found several of the coins had been handled by hobgoblins and a few even by a naga, we believe the same dark naga whose simulacrum you encountered in the morlock caverns."
"You are now asking yourselves why the food, why the telling of tales. It was a test, of character and honesty. No, we didn't torture you but make no mistake, that was an interrogation. Who are these strangers, why have they arrived after two years of war with Molthune, and could they be spies for our enemy?"
He sighs.
"We see the wounds you carry, on body and spirit, of your fight against the Legion. We wanted to offer you comfort, such as we could, and show you that even in the middle of war it is important to take stock of who you are and what you are fighting for. You are brash, but we expect that of the short lived races. You wanted immediate answers, and this too is common of heroes."
"The Synod has heard your story, weighed your character, and believes we would make worthy allies. We want to aid you in your fight against the Legion, but first we must lift the siege of Kraggodan. To do that, you will need to venture into Reliquary of Ascension and find proof of what was stolen from us and by whom. Take the time you need to prepare, for the Reliquary has been invaded by gugs and houses other assorted traps and protections, not all of our own design."
"Because you so impressed the Synod, we will also offer you a discount on purchases in town and a stipend of 20,000 gold to clear out the Reliquary for us and bring back proof that the Legion and not Molthune was responsible. You understand that this proof is not for us, but to convince Molthune beyond a shadow of a doubt that we accused them incorrectly and have no further desire for aggression against them."
Faolan is pleased by the short man’s speech and says so, ”Oh, you don’t know what a relief it is to hear you say that. Yes, we’ll help, that is…” he looks to his companions for confirmation, ”I think yes, we’ll help you get your information in the Reliquary. A few days to prepare, and we’ll be in and out with everything you seek.”
Faolan is gladdened once again, and the shadow that had briefly settled over his head was removed. Though he did long to see the sun again, he feels this time with the dwarves is well spent. The would be formidable allies.
He’ll quickly shop for a pair of Gloves of Swimming and Climbing (6,250gp) with his newfound wealth - both from the discounts and his share of the latest gift.
He’ll spend the next few days asking around about the Reliquary, so he could learn whatever he could about it. How big is it, how far away, other than Gugs, what sort of creatures may be found there? Known traps? He has the time, so he spends it wisely.
Which of course also involves working out - ideally with sparring of some sort if any such thing is available. But he’ll take what he can get to keep active so he doesn’t go soft.
Bazsil’s good cheer returns at the words, and the offer of help, AND the confirmation that the party could be of help.
”Yes, of course, of course,” Bazsil rumbles in his deep voice, greatly pleased. ”Yes, we will prepare for gugs and traps, is there anything else we should know or expect?”
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Karburtin hums and twitches until his familiar bops him, then he shoves his spectacles up and focuses on Bazsil.
"That's an interesting pitch you have young man. I would love to study your vocal cords when you die."
The mephit bops him again and he shoos it away then responds.
"In truth we're not completely sure. The Reliquary of Ascension stands past the gateway of Vault Way, and is conveniently close to the passage that brought you here. With the reliquary sealed long ago to all but the ruling families, the memory of the Onyx Key slipped into legend, and most now consider the tales of the Stone Road to be a metaphor for the trail walked by our ancestors, rather than a literal magical path. Other artifacts of the Quest for Sky were added to the vault for centuries afterward. Today, the exact contents of the vault are up to debate, as many records were lost in chaos following the Shining Crusade and the Rending. Our investigations into the break-in were cut short, sadly, when the gugs boiled out of the Darklands. We sealed them in and hoped they would starve to death by the time we got back to looking into it."
He shrugs. "The fighting was fierce and shortly after that the siege began. In truth we could be paying you to sort corpses."
"Undead gugs. Got it." Faolan straps on his shield and takes a few practice swings. It feels lighter somehow, the extra magics the dwarves embedded in it making it more powerful than he imagined he'd achieve.
He's so happy.
He continues to practice, spar, fly - do all the things he does on a daily basis to keep himself limber and ready for action. Only when everyone is ready is he ready.
"That's an interesting pitch you have young man. I would love to study your vocal cords when you die."
Bazsil tries to stammer out an answer to this expressed desire.
”Uh, thanks? I kind of hope to keep them for a while longer, but…uh…yeah, I won’t need them when I’m dead. If you can get them, take them? I dunno. I’m not one to stand in the way of science and I won’t need them when I’m dead.” Bazsil rubs the back of his neck uncertainly.
”Undead, huh? What kind of protections might we bring, Bor? Krowe?” Bazsil asks, still having money to spend.
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Bor unfurls a pile of scrolls, I have us covered on a bit of those already as he begins to show Bazsil. "Anything else you can think of?"
scroll of air bubble, air bubble, scroll of breath of life, scroll of comprehend languages, comprehend languages, scroll of fly, scroll of invisibility purge, invisibility purge, scroll of life bubble, scroll of raise dead, scroll of remove blindness/deafness (CL 2nd), remove blindness/deafness (CL 2nd), scroll of remove curse, remove curse, scroll of remove disease, remove disease, scroll of restoration, scroll of restoration (x2), scroll of see invisibility, scroll of speak with dead, speak with dead, speak with dead, scroll of stone shape, stone shape, stone shape, stone shape, scroll of water breathing, wand of lesser restoration (50 charges), wand of speak with animals (25 charges),
Faolan is happy to contribute to some/most of that, especially the wand of lessor restoration, to help defray costs. He's sure to benefit from it and other things on the list. So when you sort out how much you need, just let me know and Faolan will pay his fair share.
He has no particular suggestions though.
”Let’s do this.”