Thikka stalks over behind Sithundan, slamming her pole into the ground. "Stupid idiots." She spits at one of the fleeing creatures, and then touches Sithundan's back.
Thikka whacks Sithundan on the back of his rocky head with her stick. "Of course Lady... gravel head." She says testily, having to reach up with the stick, and apparently annoyed about that.
Thikka snorts. "And you might end up losing your pebbles too..."
|
"I think I'm gunna like you." and with that Sithundan gives a little laugh as he turns and walks off to start collecting the dropped weapons and load them into the cart. After picking up one of the swords he walks over to the cart driver and hands it to him "If you're going to help defend the cart you might want this and now you can return the one you borrowed from the young lady."
Valind darts off towards where the voice came from, speaking clearly and confidently.
"Lorohlor! Let us talk! My name is Valind, priest of Valindor! I mean you no harm! I think the wearing of your people's skins is a terrible thing! Let us see if together we can find out how these bandits got them! "
Unbolath keeps a watchful eye on the scene, covering the battlefield with his bow. He also keeps an eye on the actions of the elves, and their strange behavior regarding the cargo.
Thikka moves to Portia, and touches her arm.
She looks at the cleric who ran off, and shrugs. "His great god can take care of him." She reasons.
Derrick stands among the bodies of the fallen, his katana crimson with blood. He looks around as his allies finish the fight and go about their business, and then pulls a cloth from his belt. He wipes the katana's blade clean with slow, methodical reverence before sheathing it. He then bows his head and whispers a brief... not quite a prayer, but of that nature. Finally, he returns to the caravan and stares pointedly at the elf in charge.
Minerva simply stood, gently sheathing her sword with but a whisper of sound. She had to admit.. that was impressive, she had hardly dared to move as the warriors did their work, and what work that was.
One hand going to her belt, Minerva quick-stepped back to her mule and drew out a sheet or two of parchment, and her charcoal sketching-stick.
Sitting down on the ground, she closed her eyes and drew in images from memory, the vivid action and movement of that short, vicious battle.
Then she started to sketch, just base notes and light-as-gossamer lines for now, but this may be the start of her Magnum Opus. She started small, this was to be a collage. The band of warriors ahead had been clearly fighting in something resembling tandem, and if all turned out well, and there were more glorious heroics and mighty deeds to come? She'd be there to document them, and paint their mark on history.
She couldn't help but smile as the shapes and lines began to grow and swirl on the page and in her eye.
The kobold leader makes another noise and with one final cry the Kobold raiders drop dead silent.
Halfling, as one of the scaled I do not follow your god. While I appreciate that you are willing to assist us in a just cause I have no desire to owe a favor to you or your allies. Regardless you have given us what we need, those fleeing fools are going to run straight to their masters. A small noise of motion is heard and another inhuman (though small) growl
"I am going with my warband, I am leaving one of my less stealthy warriors to question the raiders that survived.
Ritmush ensure your interrogation determines who the raiders are lead by and where they are on the minimal chance something prevents us from finding the same. I would prefer you not kill my raider, my response would be unpleasant." with a chant of more draconic that builds to a crescendo Loroh Lor sighs once
"Goodbye, please keep your exceptionally hairy midget from antagonizing others in future. It could be dangerous to her health" a small crack like a hundred snapping fingers overlaid on each other and the cliff is silent.
And now to sell it to these mooks ritmush thinks to himself as he decides on the last act of Loroh lor and poor/much beleaguered Ritmush the minion
An easily heard sigh come from the cliff as a small plume of dust comes off it. A scrawny human with several missing teeth dust coated skin a few shades off the typical of the area and heavy smoked goggles resting on a large forehead shading his green eyes and fine boned face. "Man I hate when he does that..." the young man mutters to himself picking up a crossbow while looking down the cliff at the carnage on the battlefield.
"Uh, Hi." the clearly human kobold raider calls down as he moves to the edge of the cliff, perched on the side with his sandal covered feet kicking to an idle tune. Any ah'you got an idea as tah what I'm supposed to ask these guys? I'm not sure what a 'inntergration' involves but Loroh Lor usually did those so I didn't really bother ta' learn.
Plus it looks less like he is eyeing you suspiciously having just seen you and more that he is waiting for some cue. Like perhaps someone recognizing his massive fib and trying to trap him down in the canyon.
(if determined by one of the players that made the Will save to determine that Loroh Lor's voice sounded wrong)(Or they choose to believe that hairy halfling person.)
His speech pattern also sounds a bit like that Kobolds when he isn't intentionally butchering his speech.
Valind does his best to keep the disappointment from his face when the raid leader explains
"...Of Course. Good hunting!"
If I could keep her from antagonizing people I would. Hmmmm The understanding of exchange of favour and a cost benefit analysis of doing so suggests a society that value their word highly. These might make good allies, if they can convince their minion...
At this point Ritmush emerges, and Valind's face possibly falls a little further before
"Ritmush? I'm pleased to meet you."
Unbolath not focusing on the battle any longer hears the voice from over the ridge, and the situation seems odd.
The voice appears clearly to be a figment or some sort.
Ah, yes a mere cantrip, known to all wizards. As the boy comes over the rise into view Unbolath surmises he is the source of the spell.
... What is he playing at? Time will tell. Unbolath keeps an eye on him, although there appears to be no threat.
"Well met young lad, your magical ruse appears to have thrown the enemy raiders for a loop. Some of us are not so easily fooled. What brings you to these parts of the wilds?"
Unbolath lowers his bow and to the group in general. "Are we concerned about the raiders that have fled? Perhaps I or Portia can track them down."
Doesn't look like he caught on the dirty human considers as he looks down on the halfling, after a half second he gives an exuberant wave. "Yep, tha's mah name! Yer name is Vain-lend right?"
"I'm not a hairy midget either you stupid scale for brain moron, you come down here and say that to my face you feckless coward!" The ratfolk says with vim and verve. "I ain't afraid of your scaly mug! I'll whop your muzzle so hard you teeth are using your sphincter to chew!" She hits the dirt and stones repeatedly with her stick to accentuate her barbs. When Ritmush comes out, she snorts. "Coward! Sending out a naked monkey to do your fighting?" She crooks a finger at Ritmush. "Come on then, I'll show you who's a hairy midget you feckless hairless ape!"
"Wow am I ever glad i'm up here, she looks angry an'shoots fire. those are two things I don'like to see in combination. An'from what I've heard people say on it shorter people are even more dangerous on account of havin'a whole persons angry in half the size." Ritmush states towards the halfling
"Much more an'I bet all her hair'll stand up and she'll look just like this!" Ritmush says as he mimes an afro on his head out to the length his arms can reach.
Looking toward the granite faced man ritmush tilts his head about 20 degrees and furrows his brow curiously.
Yer really good at spotin' stuff then, not just anyone can see though one of Loroh Lor the unfound's tricks. Wish it was mah trick, was a goo-"
the young one stops halfway through his thought and gives a glance of guilt toward the forest
" Should probly not talk about his tricks though, he hates it when people learn about em' half tha fun is provin' people that think they got the whole trick wrong all over again." The human pops one fist under his tilted head as he slowly recites something his speech changing "Of course its a trick, its always a trick. But the best kind of trick has just enough truth in it to make people believe in it. And that bit of truth is just enough to take a mediocre trick or trap into something truly dangerous." the dirty blond human finishes as he scratches at the strap of his goggles "Loroh Lor says that sometimes." he finishes with a grin as he continues to kick his legs.
Portia, still high on adrenaline from the battle doesn't even notice Thikka behind her as she jumps from the woman placing her hand on her shoulder. She watches as the arrow is magically expelled from her thigh muscle and the would closes.
Thank you Thikka, I feel much better now
Interrogation is never pleasant, I do not wish to be a part of it. Do what your master claims, but please leave me out if it.
Portia shudders at the thought of interrogation, irregardless of who the target is.
The wagon driver accepts the weapon offered by Sithundan, and then approaches Portia
You know, I was just about to throw this little knife, it’s a skill I am working on perfecting, but now I’m glad I didn’t need to. Here, and thanks.
He hands the knife, handle first, back to Portia
Portia nods to Victor as she takes the dagger and puts it back on her hip. She whistles and Issabelle comes over and they nuzzle foreheads briefly then she goes back into the air.
She refuses to touch any of the bodies, but notices something odd. They have been starved, intentionally or not she is unsure, but she can see rib ages and bones.
Guys, these people are being starved. I can see their bones and rib cages. Also, check out their arms. Someone or something has etched a series of numbers into their flesh. Who could...
She turns to the side, unable to finish the thought and gags on some of her spit. The thought beyond her comprehension or comfort zone.
Thikka walks up to an injured opponent, flicks their weapon away with her staff, and then reaches down and touches their leg or arm.
She then shakes her stick in their face. "Lay still or I'll whop your head off!" She tells them testily, before moving on to the next down'd and in pain person.
With each, she repeats the warning to behave or she'll whop them, and also flicks the weapons away. She'll check the down'd still people as well, anyone alive get's a heal.
When she's finally done, she rubs her hand on her forehead, and cracks her back. "Stupid idiots, making me heal them up. Ought to whop them all on the head for being stupid." Thikka apparently considers being stupid to be a criminal offense, worthy of being beaten about the head until the being stupid stops.
Unbolath walks among them, examining the downed, and checking the bodies for living.
(+2 vs humans)
If any are bleeding out he will attempt to stabilize, and notify Thikka particularly if he is unable to stabilize their wounds.
To the few remaining conscious, he offers some food and calmly asks, "Tell us your story and reasons for the attack."
Each of these creatures is either a Human or a Halfling, some are male and some are female. They appear undernourished. Each bears a tattoo on their left forearm of a code that is six digits long.
The two Elves, stand by the wagon, quiet, and the woman keeps a hand on the man’s arm.
If not I can only hope ritmush gets a second shot when he actually gets closer and is a better situation to notice things
Ritmush perches on the cliff watching the warriors go about their work. He frowns slightly with each No-bold raider brought back from deaths door. Still think they deserve a hurtin' but killin'em for being starving and desperate ain't fair either.
elbows on his knees with his chin in his hands ritmush sighs heavily
"Well, I dunno what Loroh Lor intends but if ya fall over dead I can't innogurate cha'. An' as mos' times Loroh Lor did it there was screamin' an' blood I don't think it'll work in this case."
Dusting off his pants ritmush stands checking his multitude of pockets
"So bein' smooth rock guy already asked I'll say that if ya answer their questions and mine then I will share some... the boy holds the pause as he grabs a stained paper package from behind him
"Delicious Bacon with you." the child says in a tone almost implying reverence while unwrapping the paper and presenting the glistening meat towards the crowd below.
Not that it does much for the young mans presentation on account of the raiders being on 60 feet below him distracted by burn wounds and angry midgets with hair difficulties.
Nobody can resist the bacon... ritmush grins proudly awaiting his waterfall of Bacon induced information.
Thikka checks another wounded and obviously starving creature, sighs as it has no pulse, and moves on. "Idiot kobold zealot." She says, commenting on the creature and it's bacon. She looks at the other members of the convoy. "Ok, who's going to question them?" She makes motions as if encouraging a gaggle of geese who are standing around doing nothing for no good reason.
Derrick steps up to the elf in charge and leans casually on the wagon's side. "You said some interesting things before the start of that fight, sir. Anything you care to tell us now? It's our business as representatives of Major Finchly to guard this caravan as best we can, and we can't do that if the people we're guarding are lying to us."
While Derrick is distracting the elves, Thikka steps up to the wagon from the other side and reaches out to Bhen, to see if the rat is upset by what's in the wagon, or if he's not.
Minerva didn't have her smile on as she worked at her sketch, instead letting a frown of concentration steal across her brow. She finished her image of a steadfast Mr. Tramsen and the battle -she couldn't resist *ahem* 'editing' him harmlessly, sharpening a curve here and adding a little to a certain bulge there.
with that image ready for painting later shifted her vision and pen to fill another corner with an image of the chained wizard, kneeling by a fallen foe, the sun glinting in a most curious way off the metal, and the tiny.
He shifted as he spoke, almost shifting the chains out of position, and she couldn't resist calling out "I apologize, Sir Wizard, but could you hold that pose just a moment more? your chains have fallen just right for my painting, and I simply must commit your image to memory." She remembered herself just after calling out, and made sure to pull the hood down to hide her horns.
I agree with my colleague.if there is something afoot, we must know about it. If you hide anything from us.....
Rolandor moves beside Derrick, in a subtle show of force....as forcefully as a slender elf can be of course.....
Unbolath paused as he attended to the fallen and questioned the living. Was he being called to? The woman who joined the caravan was sketching. He held briefly, less from the request but more from what to make of it. He fixed his gaze upon her, piercing, noting her mannerisms. She wasn't human, he knew humans, but neither was he. It mattered not. He continued about his matters, mulling over his companions, none if which he really knew anything about.
Minerva almost immediately regretted calling when the wizard looked over. Those eyes were pentratingly sharp, and she was certain he could see through the shadows of her hood.
For what it was worth, she simply bent over her page, concentrating on her work, capturing the play of light and the curving shapes of the magician's form.
Ritmush tilts his head slightly as he looks at Minerva "Hey, lady."
the young man says as he cautiously rewraps his slab of pig meat with far more care than such an action ought to merit. "Whater' yah doin' oevr there? Also, do you know if the furry things gonna thump me if I come down there? I can't 'xactly Instigate tha' No-bolds from here but your hairy short not-a-midget Lady thing shoots fire when angry an' I like having hair. Keeps mah' head warm." says the human, while butchering the common tongue.
Minerva looked up at the call of the short... human? on top of the cliff, and raised a brow, wondering if he meant her, there being more than a few ladies around.
Well, he was looking at her..
She let a tiny sigh escape, pencil pausing it's intricate dance as she shouted back, "I'm drawing, small one! I like to sketch, and thus am recording the battle, that I might draw on the beauty of it for a later painting!" she coughed once or twice, her throat was dry as the dusty ground, and it hurt to bellow so loudly.
She quickly covered her head once more with her hood, lest her horns spill out, and took a drink from her waterskin before putting pencil to paper once more.
I don’t know what you are talking about
Yes he does, the wagon driver says. The man has a curious smile, and approaches the back of the wagon. Oh he knows. How he knows is a mystery to me, but I think he knows exactly what is in this wagon
How do you know what’s in the wagon The elven woman asks, seeming genuinely surprised
How do you know what’s in this wagon?
This isn’t a game of what the f@%& do you know! the elven man shouts. Look, who are you?
The names Victor, Victor Jankowski, and I work for people very interested in what’s in this wagon
We work for people very interested in what’s in this wagon as well.
Unbolath calmly asks "Clearly we would like to know who 'he' is. Could you elaborate more regarding your benevolent master?"
Portia, after having her stomach settle, she listens in on the words of the halflings and humans. She tries to distinguish if what they are saying is true, or just a ruse to get out of whatever fate has for them. Her head is still reeling from recent events she cannot get a read on them.
She remember about the boy from the farm she was to keep a lookout for, do any of the raiders appear to match the description of the young man? She looks over the people, visibly distressed over the situation, trying to keep focused on the task at hand.
She cannot help but overhear the yelling near the caravan. She is tempted to just pull the tarp off the whole damn thing and end the bickering, but wonders if the threat of this Karl is founded and shouldn't be messed with.
She looks up to the sky, and she thinks to herself, Karl...Karl. I swear the name sounds familiar, but where did I hear it. Then it comes to her.
Portia's eyes go wide, as if he had seen a ghost. She goes to Derrick, Sithudan, Valind, and the other few who had traveled with her to the cave where they encountered.
After pulling them aside, Guys, that name sounds familiar. I remembered the name of Karl, the dwarf that hired us to go into the caves when we first arrived here to Fort Horizon. I highly doubt there would be two Dwarves with the same name. Sooo, what or where do we go from here?