Wasps still trickling from the corners of her mouth, Nahia rises up with a sadistic grin and begins to rhythmically move her hands, the wasps seeming to follow her every move. The cloud swirls and continues enveloping the two men, undulations in the swarm exposing patches of ripped and swollen skin.
Seren can feel the pain that tingles at the edges of her flaking skin, the continued reminder of her pact with her Lord. But even that doesn't stop her from enjoying the sight of these fools, so unprepared for what laid in front of them. It was already so early in their journey and here they were, scattered and frantic.
Let's take advantage of that, shall we?...
She turns her grin to the dwarf swatting at the bees. It takes but a moment to find that nugget of hatred burning inside of her, and only another moment to get that same ember burning in his own mind.
The skeleton continued its frenzied assault, its teeth grinding and chattering so hard to the point of starting to crack, its clawing crashing into the Sister over and over again, even if to only be deflected by her armor.
The pair of pair of froggy eyes just below the water bobbed to the surface as the man attacked, narrowing in anger. They were followed by a splash as a froggy arm cast a barbed net up at the adventurer on the walkway.
Hound swings his hammer around, using his bulk strength to push the bard away from her allies, while the boggards jump out of the water and grab the woman.
Mysty attacks Hallack, while a Sexy Looking Boggard appears out of the water and throw a net at him, entangling the man, but not enough to pin his movements.
Nahia exerts her control over the swarm, making it continues to attack the two fighters.
While Seren cast a spell and the skeleton continues attacking the sister.
Their resistance was futile if it could be called resistance at all.
Hallack struggling with Roggard version of the dark knight, being threatened by Mysty. He tried to keep his defense, to avoid being assailed, but the rapiers and daggers continued their precise and deadly cuts, the thing inside the water continue to drag him down. Soon enough his mind blank, gasping for air which didn’t existed. His lungs filling with water while Rose continued to pin the man under water.
It shouldn’t have been this way. He thinks before his mind fades into the darkness of despair. They were supposed to raid the horn, fight some monsters, find some treasure and then return home, the heroes, rich and accomplished. He would then leave Farhold, searching for new things in life, maybe Bianca at his side…
--
James O'Toole had always fancied himself a hero, so when Hallack put this band together, he was sure that glory and riches waited them, but the happiness was short lived, now, all he knew was despair. He moves forward, to protect his allies from any incoming danger. ”Ye won’t be passing me!” he yells to no one in particular, cracking his knuckles together, ready to hit the first one brave enough to approach him.
The enemy however wasn’t something that could be fight with his fists, thousands upon thousands of wasps. At first he could do nothing, being taken by surprise, but soon after he knew that punching that wasn’t something he could do, so he left, and fled.
Or he tried.
Just outside the swarm, the big barbarian was there waiting weapon at ready his eyes bulging with fury. James stepped inside the weapons reach, and that was the last anyone ever saw him do anything.
The Lucerne hammer described a deadly downward arc, precisely hitting the man’s head. A sickening noise, brain splashed everywhere, blood pouring where a head should have been.
--
Yorgun the Smith Hallack’s best friend was the first one to agree to this whole thing! In fact, in a certain way, he was the one that suggested exploring the place, since he already had been here. In his first coming, he talked at length with the guardian of the place, the talking tree and even tho he couldn’t say they were friends, he could say they reached an agreement. So taking this route was his idea as well. If something was stirring inside the place, the dwarf was sure they would be able to join forces with the treant and fight anything inside…
Now, he tries to break free from his of the wasps but his efforts just isn’t enough to make a difference ”Yer durned cowards! Fight like a dog! Come’re and I’ll crack yer thick skull!” he yells in anger, not being able to do anything else. But that’s when he mind is assailed by magic.
The durned fools using magic against a dwarf! he thinks as the spell washes away and he decides to move away from the deadly wasps, being not able to destroy it with his weapon. And precisely at that time, he sees James head being crushed by a giant hammer.
Gripping his hammer tight, the dwarf charges at the large enemy. The hammer appears out of nowhere hitting him square in the chest, breaking bones, but not yet enough to stop the dwarf advance.
Yorgun brings his how big hammer down. Another sickening sound, blood splashes, bones breaks and the dwarf thinks that now he has the upper hand, the big guy not being able to attack him at this short range.
However, the barbarian howls like an enraged animal, letting go of his hammer and growing claws. What the dwarf though would be a safe spot was instead the most dangerous place in the world.
The claws lashes, pierces, and rip apart flesh and bones and there was the dwarf, on his knee barely conscious. He tries to raises his hammer, but there’s nothing in his hands, only blood flowing down into the muddy floor…
--
Bianca DeVallya have had a crush on the sergeant for like, forever! Therefore, when the man started talking about creating an adventuring party, she practically begged to join. It was her chance to leave this town and earn some feelings from the man she liked. But now, it’s way too much for her, now desperation and fear sinking in the woman’s heart. ”Hallack? What’s happening?” she asks before being throw inside the water, and held down until oblivion was all that was left for her.
--
When evil stirred in the briar, Sister Marta Dian knew it was her call. More when the late sergeant invited her to be guide and spiritual support of this endeavor. Being able to successful able to destroy some wicked looking zombies with her prayers, she felt ready for whatever evil had to throw at her…
Clawed, stung and hurt the woman calls once more a divine prayer to help her friends ”Mitra! Give us your blessing and protect us from evil!” she chants as a burst of holy energy fills the area.
But it is too late, suddenly, she is the only one left standing, the wicked looking undead still ripping its claws at her, the deadly wasps stinging the woman all over…
Rose's skin rippled and shifted back to her human form. Nahia, Seren, stop your pets. We need her."
Nahia laughs wickedly, her eyes wide, as the heroes fall and the holy power of the priestess starts to fade. And her laughter, and smile, continue as she gracefully and specifically moves her hands, sculpting and forming the mass of wasps into the shape of a Rose around the priestess... but leaving enough room to try and not muffle the holy woman's cries.
"Look Rose! It's inspired by you!"
Seren hears Rose's call and, though hesitating for a moment, calls out to her minion "Hold! But watch her closely."
But when the wasps don't disperse she turns to Nahia. "Nahia... Nahia, it's over..."
Upon hearing its Mistress' shout the skeleton stops its barrage, though it stays right in the priestess' face, its teeth still chattering, though even the sound of that drowned out by the wasps.
Hound drops the dwarf corpse and pants heavily as the battle rage starts leaving him. He turns his head and notices the last few feeble struggles in the water and then the corpse of the bard float to the top along with two very satisfied looking boggards.
Gather the bodies, you have completed the first defense adequately. He then picks up his hammer and gets ready to smash the nun if ordered to.Shall I subdue her?
"It's very pretty. It's also killing our sacrifice." Rose said. "We'll let you kill the next priest that shows up at our doorstep. This one doesn't get to die yet."
Andros, draped over Nahia's shoulders, nuzzles at her chin. But Nahia does not stop.
Great, she's lost it once again. *sigh* She can thank me for this later.
Andros snaps and lodges his fangs into Nahia's chest, careful not to bite hard enough to fill her veins with poison.
The shock from Andros' bite causes Nahia to wince and blink. She looks out at the priestess buried in the wasps, all of the past words suddenly catching up with her. She shakes her head and then begins her movements again.
And with the wasps under her control, she throws her arms out and her head back, her mouth wide open. The buzzing cloud of angry wasps turn their heads and rush towards her. Without a moment of hesitation the cloud streams back into her mouth, the ungodly volume of them expanding her diaphragm, rushing down nose and maw, until only a few stragglers are crawling their way back in.
Nahia gasps and exhales air, a couple of errant wasps flitting around the corners of her lips. With a couple of more blinks she adds "Sorry about that... I guess I got a little carried away..."
Nahia sat back in a chair as she watched Seren do her work, sipping brandy as a fresh boggard body rose from the floor. She smiled as the body walked over to a pile of rubble and began to move the rocks, Seren coming back and taking her own seat.
The two women chatted easily enough as the corpse continued its work. And when the rubble was moved Seren gave a simple, off-hand command "Good. Now grab that pick and start chipping away at that wall." The corpse reached down and grabbed the pick. It stopped and stared down at it for a moment, it's face screwing into a scowl, before clumsily hurling the pick aside.
Seren frowned at the corpse. In a cold, hard voice she commanded The corpse slumped its shoulders and trudged over to retrieve the pick.
Nahia's brow scrunched in confusion. "Does that happen often? I thought they were supposed to be mindless..."
Seren shrugs her shoulders. Watching the corpse she responds "It's been happening more and more with these boggards. It seems like some of their bodies are keeping some murmur of their soul. That one died carving out a cavern, and he must have had some distaste for the work or his end. It'll fade soon enough though."
Their talk continued but ideas were running through Nahia's mind. She was familiar with the connection between a soul and its body, that wasn't the interesting part. No, what interested her was the idea that an action could draw forth a spirit without magical energy. Yes Seren raised the body, but it was the emotional link to that pickaxe that brought forth echos of the creature's soul.
She turned to Seren with a smile on her face and an idea. "Want to do some shopping? I might need your... expertise."
- - - - -
A couple of days later, after a little experimentation, Nahia is ready to try her ritual. She goes to her lab and shuts the door tightly, stuffing cloth around the gaps in an attempt to muffle any outside sound. But these ritual preparations are quite different from her normal form.
Instead of incense, she begins by lighting an old oil lamp, the flame giving off a thick, sooty smoke from the unrefined oil. Next, instead of kneeling upon a piece of red silk, or a chalk array, she instead sits at her wooden desk, which she has had moved into the middle of the room.
Next to the desk sits a large chest, the result of her shopping trip. She reaches into the chest and retrieves a stone and a small cloth bundle, which she opens. The cloth of the bundle looked as if it was a dirty shirt, and wrapped inside of it is the skeletal remains of a hand, the bones knobby and a little twisted, held together by thick pieces of preserved sinew.
She carefully places the bones to the side, for now, and instead flattens and examines the shirt before taking a pair of scissors to it, cleanly cutting it into several rectangles. Tossing the strips aside, she retrieves a bowl and places it in front of her. She places the skeletal hand upon her own, both palms up, and places the stone atop it. Carefully, she closes her own fingers, closing the skeletal ones around the stone.
Taking a deep breath, she squeezes hard... harder... harder... until there is finally a splintering sound, followed by both dust and red-black blood pouring into the bowl. Opening her hand, she brushes any leftover dust from it and retrieves the stone, now shriveled like a raisin, and places it inside an empty bowl.
Retrieving a quill, she mixes the blood and bone-dust thoroughly, and then closes her eyes. Taking another deep breath, she places the quill almost, but not quite, upon the cloth before her. She whispers a few words and even the subtlest draft is suddenly still. The quiet in the room is stunning, and it takes Nahia a moment to realize that her ears are ringing in the silence.
Taking another deep breath, she steadies herself, concentrating on her heartbeat, starting to sway her head and the feather of her quill in time with it. And then, at the furthest distance of her hearing she hears a voice. It is faint, but even so she can hear the deepness of it, the low sweeping tones.
But the voice grew louder, closer, and in time she could hear the deep richness of the voice. And as it grew closer, and clearer, she could hear the song it was singing. It was a sad song, one of tiredness, of hard work and little rest. Furiously she scribbled down notes and words, doing her best to record the song as she started to hum along.
After a time the song was done, and Nahia had managed to record it all. Her hand ached at the speed with which she had written, but she couldn't stop: her hand had been guided by the man's spirit. And when she opened her eyes she could see the sheet music inscribed on the cloth: neat, orderly, and complete.
With a smile she retrieved a book cover made of peened lead sheets and steel rings. She twisted open the rings and added it's new cloth pages before setting it aside and retrieving a new bundle.
'Only 99 more to go...' She thought to herself.
- - - - -
It took several days, but upon completing her songbook Nahia rested as one who had spent a week laboring, a rest she had not rested in quite some time. But there is no rest for the wicked, and the next morning, after a hearty breakfast, she went to the grand hall above the caverns and examined the work that the boggards had already begun.
It was crude and little progress had been made, their bodies designed more for stealthy hunting and mating than for such heavy work. The tools they were using, such as shovels, picks, handcarts, and drills, were strewn about, only vaguely organized.
Nahia reached down, grabbed a handful of dirt, and crumbled it lightly in her hand before smearing it all over her face and arms. She then reached into her pack and retrieved a flask. She took several sips from it, wincing slightly at the harshness of the cheap rotgut whisky compared to her more refined brandy. As the whisky took hold her porcelain cheeks and skin began to redden and flush. She knew she was ready when her whole body began to feel warm, even in this stony place.
Putting the flask away, she brought out the songbook. Opening the page, she bobbed her foot to get her beat in order, and then started singing, her normal mezzo-soprano singing voice dropping into a deep contralto. Her voice sounded weary, but strong. Proud, but on the verge of breaking.
Some people say a man is made outta mud
A poor man's made outta muscle and blood
Muscle and blood and skin and bones
A mind that's a-weak and a back that's strong
You load sixteen tons, what do you get
Another day older and deeper in debt
Pharasma don't you call me 'cause I can't go
I owe my soul to the company store
As she sings disembodied voices being to join in, their own voices deep and gravely, as if they had been parched of water for weeks. One, two, three, five, a dozen voices join the chorus.
I was born one mornin' when the sun didn't shine
I picked up my shovel and I walked to the mine
I loaded sixteen tons of number nine coal
And the straw boss said "Well, a-bless my soul"
The bodies of men fade into view, their clothes torn around their well earned muscle, their eyes distant and weary, their forms drained of any color but lifeless gray, dirt brown, and coal black. Still singing, they walk up and claim a shovel or pick before heading off to work.
You load sixteen tons, what do you get
Another day older and deeper in debt
Pharasma don't you call me 'cause I can't go
I owe my soul to the company store
Nahia's voice grows softer as she walks to another part of the hall, the workers keeping up their own song now. Here she spies the hammers, the piles of coal and raw iron, and the small forge, all brought in for making chains and grates and doors. Bobbing her head she again begins a hum before launching into another song.
There's many a fool on the company side
And many a good man who just works the line
And many good people get brought to their knees
And many a promise gets lost in the breeze
And many a promise gets lost in the breeze
Again voices begin to join in and again men appear, this time taking up hammers, bellows, and shovels, their voices joined by the rhythmic ringing of the hammers and the hisses of the fire.
On trampled grass of frosty grey
A chill wind blows where shadows lay
Beyond the road and yawning gates
The workshop for its prey awaits
A whistle howls its eerie wail
Begrudged and cursed to no avail
Machines are fed, some spit and choke
With steel and iron, stench and smoke
The iron workers on their own now, she walks back to the miners, their picks cleaving through stone faster than any normal worker could, a product of being the distilled essence of their indiviudal grit, determination, skill, and experience. Seeing the stone pile up, she turned her songbook to a new page, this one speckled with old, dried blood.
All the ways of Farholde meet
In a mighty market square;
Clean and dirty hands and feet,
What bring they to auction there?
We buy the men who make our laws,
We buy the judge of wrong and right,
And men sell themselves because
Men will pay to have them fight.
The men that appeared now were far less proud looking than the others before, their clothes even more tattered, the skin on their backs scared, and their fingers gnarled. They lifted the heavy stones and began carrying them up the stairs, wincing and groaning into the song Nahia led them through.
We buy wives to share our bed,
We buy men to heal our sick,
Churchyard men to bury our dead,
Prison men to bury our quick.
Weary hands for weary work,
Empty brains for empty thought,
Men who strive and men who shirk,
Are in Farholde sold and bought.
These shambling men deposited the stones in neat piles before shuffling back down to the repeat the menial task once more, their bitter and broken voices echoing the song down the hallway.
Turning back to the pile of stones that was growing near a bucket and a collection of dry mortar, Nahia grinned wickedly as she turned to a new song. She read over it once, quite pleased at having saved one of her favorites for last.
Well, it should be illegal to work anyone more than eight.
Hire someone else, do not make me work more than eight.
You get only eight hours for work and I get the rest.
To cultivate my better nature, live life at it's best.
I am not a wage slave and you do not own my life!
I want to spend time with my children and wife!
The men appeared and began to mix the mortar and place the stones, the dreary masons saying words that held more pride than their voices would allow. But their was still a hint of belief in their voice, the thought that they would get to go home to their loved ones buried deep in their souls.
Nahia helped the wong along here and there, trying to keep the tune going through her own giggles.
Oh how wrong they are. I wonder what their wives would say if they knew that another woman was the mistress of a part of their souls? That the husband that they laid to rest was not really resting at all, and was in fact still doing that same job that had snatched both his time and his life from her… I almost feel bad for them… almost...
- - - - -
Nahia flitted from group to group, humming along and joining in their work songs. But in time she could feel their spirits starting to fade, their connection to this work growing more and more tenuous. Rather than risk breaking the connection completely, she decided to let them off. Opening the song book to the last pages, she whistled with her fingers and began a new song.
It's quitin' time, quittin' time
Time to disassemble this assembly line
Lord, I love punchin' out like I hate punchin' in
Hot damma lama lama, it's quittin' time again
I'm so tired of makin' whatever it is that we make
With some fool tellin' me when I can take a break
They're breakin' my spirit and makin' my body ache
But I'm just about to make the great escape.
The dreary workers started to put up their tools and to clean their worksites, but there was no extra pep in their voices, no new vigor. And with the cleaning done, one by one, the form their line and begin their march down the hall, their bodies fading from view even as their dry voices continue to echo through the halls.
Time to disassemble this assembly line
Lord, I love punchin' out like I hate punchin' in
Hot damma lama lama, it's quittin' time again
I'll be leaving this factory at the speed of light
Gonna meet my lady at the tavern tonight
When a bard cuts loose she's gonna hold me tight
Everything I want a gonna be alright
Nahia closes the book with a heavy slam and wipes the dust from her still reddened cheeks with a cloth. She briefly examines the worksite, seeing the massive changes in the layout of the rooms. She pulls out the flask from before and takes a few more grimacing sips before giggling and drunkenly adding ”Ah, just what I need after a hard day's work...”
Let the boggards feast as their reward. These two who killed the bard should get the best cuts,
There was enthusiastic croaking.
|
Mysty pales a bit at hound's pronouncement, then rallied.
Those are bestial beings, best to placate them, and I suppose it disposes of the bodies. Still, I should arrange these creatures "heroic" demise once their utility is done. I only hope he doesn't join in their "feast".
She looks covertly at hound.
I wonder if he will object when the time comes.
Moving with Rose and the much bitten prisoner, she mentally shrugged. Not in her control that.
Rose nodded, unbothered by the idea of the boggards eating the corpses. "Just make sure they keep the bones intact for Seren. No marrow sucking and no boiling the bones for soup stock. Just have them clean them up as best they can after the feast and drag them up to Seren's prison. That's where the bones go until she needs them. Oh, those darkmantles too. She might be able to do something with those."
"As for the Sister here, Mysty and I will see her to her new accomidations."
They brought her up to the Chuch of Vetra Kali, bound, with a bag over her head. Rose cut her clothes off with one of mysty's blades, efficiently slicing her dress from the base of her neck to the middle of her back and then just hanging the whole mess of fabric to the floor.
"Ezra, this is Sister Wasp--face. She's going into the treasury since she's soooo valuable." Rose said to the empty air, assuming the Wraith was around somewhere. "She's going to be fed twice a day. We'll do it personally, in pairs always. None of the servants should need to come here, and none of us should ever need to enter the tresury alone. If anyone breaks from that, you can eat them."
Rose and Mysty opened the treasury together, then showed the priestess to her cell. They tossed in a bucket and a blanket, untied her arms and shoved her in. "Enjoy your stay." Rose smiled.
Nahia breathes deeply for a moment before reaching up and stroking underneath Andros' muzzle. In a faint hiss she says to him "Thanks for that friend. I'm... I'm clearly still working on that control thing."
- - - - -
Nahia nods at Rose's plan for accessing the sister. "As much as I'd love some... private time with the woman, it is the safer option. And between that pocket dimension and the enchantments on the horn, hopefully no one will be able to track her down."
"Speaking of which, I was thinking. I could get Deanne or one of her girls to lay down some rumors about the Sister, the Bard, and the two humans running off to elope and using the situation here as a cover for the Sister to escape the convent. Thoughts?"
"Smart. Make it happen." Rose nodded to Nahia. "Did any of them have any decent equipment?"
After the boggards cart off the bodies, sans equipment, Hound addresses them. We'll be hunting down more beasts for the front cave, so don't gorge yourselves senseless or there will be no more feasts and only mushrooms to eat until I say otherwise.
Hound then gets all the equipment in order for cataloging.
After the eating crew had done its part (Grumblejack made a point of taking a bite from the dwarf as well, saying he’d never had shorty un’s before), they start cataloging what the adventures were carrying.
- 5 potion of cure light wounds
- 1 breastplate
- 1 +1 heavy wooden shield
- 1 +1 longsword
- 1 composite shortbow (+3 Str) with 20 arrows
- 1 dagger
- 3 backpack
- 2 50’ rope
- 6 weeks ration
- 1 bedroll
- 1 tinderbox
- bolts (40)
- 2 light crossbow
- 1 traveller’s garb
- 1 masterwork lute
- 1 mithral chain shirt
- 1 rapier
- 1 +1 large warhammer
- 1 masterwork studded leather
- 1 masterwork thieves tools
- 1 grappling hook
- 1 flask of decent whiskey
- 1 +1 chainmail
- 1 heavy steel shield
- 1 masterwork longsword
- 1 silver holy symbol of Mitra
- 68 gp
After speaking her piece and tossing the woman in the extradimensional prison, no answer nor any sign of Erza. It’s been some days since the shade last made an appearance.
Nahia set her minions to spread misinformation about the adventure party attacking the horn.
and within a week, countless of rumors about the fleeing couple and the ones pretending to attack the horn only to flee from farhold.
Those rumors end up merging with others, such as Hallack’s inheriting his father debts, and how the late sergeant fled with Bianca so he wouldn’t pay his debts. Overall, no one really believes they attacked the horn, it was more like at fabricated history to cover their shamefully acts.
Hound gathers the boggards and order then, fruitlessly to try to capture more monsters in the briar.
The rest of the week passes with no more incidents or news.
Hound scratches his chin as he looks over the loot pile and shrugs. I will take a potion of minor healing but nothing in particular interests me.
Hound is annoyed that the boggards came back empty handed, he let them gorge themselves and they waddled more than usual.
Enough! You've had your feast and now it is time to work off that lard! Until I see results, it is mushrooms for dinner!
Hound does keep two boggards in the front cave and sends them out hunting again.
It seems that violence is the way to deal with the boggards.
Since this time, they manage to capture something.
Hound addresses Nahia or whoever has Grumblejack's leash. Has Grumblejack gotten any equipment? A large club or axe would be very effective in his hands and he'll need armor. I suspect we will need to ask The Baron to aquire some.
I've copied all the loot to our loot page. If you want something, or have plans for something, go ahead and mark it.
Deciding for a more careful approach, Nahia set up her followers to start a business in town.
They open a small shop selling herbs, remedies, poultries, and providing healer services in one front.
Deanne set a hut outside town, taking the role of midwife, fortune-teller, alchemist.
Surprisingly, things seems prosper enough as they are able to score some gold that week.
That week everything seems peaceful.
No new adventures arrive trying to destroy you, nor any new event.
Elise does send a note that week, but with nothing that could be considered important information.
The note reads:
There’s a reward for a Sister Marta, which some believe fled with a drunken, indebted ex-sergeant and his mistress Bianca. The sisters of Saint Cynthia-Celeste post a 500 gp reward for information about her whereabouts. Wouldn’t you happen to know anything, would you?
P.S
N, the nights are colder here.
-Z
Hound is rather pleased, the first defense has been successful and the caverns stocked with creatures to help defend. Perhaps they should stat looking into stronger guardians though..Hm..
What about the ruined golem we still have? Will we be able to get it working?
"I think Nahia has the list of things we need. Not sure what's left on it though." Rose shrugged.
"That reminds me. We still have those two broken suits of plate mail. That stuff's expensive. We should see if Nahia's wand can repair it. Let's go ask her. She's probably in her lab."
Hound makes sure to recheck the defenses before sending his boggards out to raid any farms/shake down the pixies for cash.
Hound let the boggards run rampart in the farms just outside the briar. They burn, they kill, they pillage and end up making up some money altogether.
Nahia sets her minions to work as well…
--
The White Ravens wipe out a newly arrived adven turering group that arrived at Farhold.
Elise sends this:
“New adventurers in town calling themselves ‘Brendam’s Breaker’. They have been broken. No further difficulties.
P.S: N, It's colder still.
-- Z”
Otherwise the week is uneventful.
Hound pulls the Boggards back after their raid.
Attention is being drawn now, the second group was disposed of but I suspect that there will be more. Shall we try to hunt some creatures for the upper levels?
"Yes. Take Kit with you. She might be able to make the capture easier." Rose said. "I'm making a list of supplies we need still. Anyone have any requests?"
Seeing the rather... personal message from Elise, Nahia will take the shopping list from the others upon herself and spend a night in <town>. Whereupon she not only buys the requested supplies but makes her entrance into the same window that she did before, slipping in and making her way into the empty bedding.
Hound will plan to do a hunting expidition after laying low. He does purchase an extra potion of Enlarge to replace the one he used but has no further purchases.
Rose was feeling a bit restless. Nahia had taken care of the shopping. Hound and Kit were dealing with trapping of new critters. Mysty was taking care of the golem. Seren had her own projects.
So she was holding down the fort.
She put on her armor and made the rounds, connecting with the followers they'd attracted and making a list of things that were left to be done. Behind her floated Pyre acting as a scribe and assistant. She was a black knight haloed in the hellish light of a fallen angel. She knew she was feared. The next step was to be respected.
One of the mistakes leaders made was ignoring or disregarding the insight of subordinates. She made a point to ask what was missing or what would help get the work done faster. She was a sometimes brutal taskmaster, but she was concerned first with efficiency. Working people to death with unsuitable tools and conditions was counter-productive. She expected her crews to work hard, but she also planned on rewarding them well and ensuring they had what they needed.
So she talked to them. She was curt and direct, reinforcing the power she held over them, but clearly listened and made sure to foster a willingness to speak to up. A power structure was useless without an upward flow of information.
She began to divide them into hierarchies, creating a competitive meritocracy where all knew that their positions were not protected. The capable and clever would rise. The lazy or stupid would end up in Seren's body bank.
Slowly, things were beginning to take shape.
|
|
After many purchases and such from differing artisans, Mysty (and others) have collected all the parts needed to reactivate the golem. Except one. They needed a brain. A new human, dwarven, elven, half-orc or half-elven brain.
Dammit! We just wasted a lot of those on Frogman food. This is a punishment, I'm certain.
She stared at the pile of rather expensive things they had gathered, despondantly. Where the hell could they get a brain. The priestess was out, they needed her alive for the sacrifice. So where...Sudenly she clicked her fingers. Big sister would help. Surely there was a slacker in her organisation she could use as an example.
Mysty trotted down to where Rose was working. She was at a desk, with neat orderly piles of paper all over it. She was hunched over a vexing piece of work, pen poised like a sword.
She cleared her throat. No response. Mysty smiled. Maybe a spark on those papers would get her attention, and be some fun. Before she more of a move beyond raising her hand Rose said Mysty, I love as much as a real sister, but if you follow through on that action, I will cut off one of your fingers. Showing wisdom, Mysty decided to not set fire the Roses paper.
I was only trying to get your attention
What do you want? I'm busy.
I need a brain
Rose put the paper she had being reading and turned to Mysty. A smile quirked on her face.
Really. The one you have not working?
Oh ha ha! No it's for the golem. I was thinking that you might have someone in your organisation who is, well, not up to snuff. If you can end of them, say as an example to the others, I could use the brain. What do you say?
"Well, I did just lay down an advancement policy for our faithful lackeys. Setting up a reward and punishment system to enforce it would definitely motivate them."
Rose looked down her lists and thought to herself a moment.
"I have an idea. Come with me."
Rose and Mysty painted two big black boards above the bar. Above one board was a crown. Above the other was a skull.
Someone who distinguished themselves would have their name added to the Crown board. Someone who was screwing up would have their name added to the Skull board. At the end of a month the people on the boards would compete. The Crown board would compete with each other for a reward. The Skull board would compete with each other for their lives. Competition Day would become a sort of monthly holiday where everyone could blow off steam.
In celebration of the first successful defense of the Horn, the first holiday, complete with competitions, would happen the next day.
Names were put on the boards. The competitors would have a day to prepare.
Predictably, one of the folks who had ended up on the Skull board decided to cut and run rather than face whatever competition Rose would come up with the next day.
Pyre, on watch duty with the Eye, spotted the runaway, teleported after them, and chased them down with a flurry of hellfire bolts. Eventually the man died about a quarter mile into the woods. Grumblejack dragged the body back a short while later.
"There's your brain." Rose said with a smile.
The next day Rose made the announcement in the common area outside the bar. "The Skull competition was to see who had the nerve to stick around and face the possibility of dying. One of your fellows failed that test. He tried to run rather than try to fight to better himself. He died like a dog in a ditch."
"That means the skull competition is over. You folks that weren't pulling your weight get a pass this time. Try not to end up on the skull board again."
"You folks that have done a good enough job that your efforts were noticed, it's your turn now."
Two men and a woman stepped forward. Rose put them in head bags to blindfold them one by one and handed them all heavily padded cudgels. Then they were spun in circles until they were disoriented and swaying on their feet, positioned around the fountain. "Last one standing. On my mark."
"Fight!"
The ensuing staggering human-pinata brawl was hilarious. Five minutes of gut-busting antics that had the audience laughing so hard they were having trouble breathing. In the end, it was the lone woman of the trio who came out the victor. The men had worn themselves out too soon.
Rose took off the blindfolds, let the victor take her bows and then wheeled out a cart with some exceptional quality equipment on it. The victor chose a Masterwork Longsword. The same one that Rose had carried until recently. The one she had taken from the corpse of Lord Thomas in Ballentyne.
"You louts take the rest of the day off. You've earned it."
The next day Rose didn't have to yell at anyone for being too hung over to do their jobs right. She just added their names to the Skull board.
This was going to work out wonderfully.
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Once obtained, mysty puts the brain in a cool place, then assembles the golem, piece by piece.
once the construction was done she looked atbge result. The golem was lying on a piece of clean canvas on the floor, as if in repose. Next step was to add the alchemetical items, then lastly the brain.
Mysty's hell hounds entered the room and watched, interested. One of them sniffed at the brain, but mysty said
no!
in infernal. She was busy learning the language, and had a few words down.
She then, carrying the brain in a bowl, went to get Nahia and hound.
I'm about finished on the golem. I jst wondered if you, nahia, could check my work, and if you, hound, could could stand watch in case, you know, something goes wrong. I'll shout you both drinks later. she asks with a smile, holding her bowl with a brain in it.
*Thumbs up*
Nahia nods and smiles at Mysty "Of course, I'd be delighted to watch over you!"
Huh... I didn't think she had it in her to put together anything that didn't explode... Well, here is crossing my fingers that if that happens it is at least entertaining!
Nahia smiles warmly as she takes a seat off to the side, a drink in one hand and her pipe in the other as she waves towards the collected parts of the golem. "Ok, whenever you're ready, lets get this soiree started and usher back into existence a new servant!"