Talric Dtunson watches stoically over the unconscious drow and apparent arcane researcher. His clan never really trusted magic, thinking it a machination of Thrym. Talric never really understood the superstition. After all, it was just an excuse to make life harder and make warriors more "stoic." While he was in the wilds, Talric would've appreciated any sort of ease, whether conjured food or magical fire.
Talric sighs and sits down on a log. His clan, although hardy and one of the forces to be reckoned with in the Northlands, had become stringent with tradition. Ironically, in a clan where tradition carelessly cast aside laws, tradition became the most harsh and unforgiving code.
Times needed to change for the Jotunslayers. And Talric was willing to become the catalyst.
Turning the the sleeping drow, Talric's thoughts started to wander. Strange, that all three of them were to meet in such a secluded area of the wilds. Strange indeed.
Slowly, Talric nods off.
As he turns to face the wind, Grokar catches the scent of smoke and food somewhere nearby. He searches for some sign of passing, hoping to find any lost travelers.
He soon finds his way to a now sleeping camp. The prospect of an easy meal was too much to pass up as he got ever closer.
Pressing his luck, he moved to each person, hoping to see or sniff out anything good they might have left out nearby.
Christoff is unconscious and he is really good at it. Clearly this is not his first time doing this.
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Talric slowly blinks his eyes open. Damn... Talric thinks. No guards around. This is the time to escape... Lunging up, Talric discovers that the guards have changed his ropes. Talric held a grudging admiration of the brigands. They were smart, fast, and professional. The last few times the Northlander had tried to escape, they turned him into a pincushion-only through he's extraordinary vitality did he manage to survive.
Talric sighs. Clearly, I'm not getting out of here. I'm not really valuable to Zelkor's Ferry, and I'm betting that they don't care about some wandering warrior enough to shell out more gold-or anything for my companions, either. Me and the half-orc are probably the only ones capable enough to get through the defensive line. My wounds have healed-I guess the bandits don't want to risk damaging the merchandise, in the slight hope they might get money from me. I bet if me and the half-orc work together, we might be able to overcome some of the guards-hopefully the dark elf can provide some of that darkness he used to cover our escape. Of course, there's the intrinsic problem of me communicating this to my companions without alerting the guards.
Looking up, Talric notices the half-elf-and her expression. Snarling, Talric looks up at her. I have to convince her I'm just another bloodbrained, bull-muscled barbarian from the north. Hopefully she'll dismiss my mutterings to a beserker's ravings. "MY TRIBE SHALL BATHE IN YOUR BLOOD IF YOU KILL ME, FOUL HALF-BREED!
Talric then settles down and starts muttering, leaning close to the half-orc. "Wake the others. I have a plan."
Grokar's smirk bares his sharpened teeth at the human next to him as he mutters back: "Sure you want a 'half-breeds' help?"
Not bothering to look up, he kicks lightly at the others to awaken them as he paces the small area. Stopping near the middle, he inhales deeply and then nods at the barbarian, trying to play along.
"It smells like we get elf-meat tonight. I love the taste of elf."
After seeing the captives in the pit, Ghea looks to Killian.
What did this group do? Invade your land? Attack you?
Pharnox wakes, mind in a fog and muscles aching, when he sees the barbarian from before, he thinks his name was Talric or something like that, his memories start return. Looking to his other side he sees his hit, Christoff, panic floods over him at the thought that he may be discovered. Pharnox quickly scoots backwards keeping his eyes Christoff until his back hits the wall, it is only then that he realizes that he has been trapped in a pit. Finding a shadow he hides in it reaching for his rapier, eyes pop when his hands don't find it. Then reaching for each wrist and finding his sheaths empty the fear truly sets in and he starts to rock back and forth uncontrollably as a sense of his complete loss of control sets in.
Each time his jailers came to the edge of the pit Pharnox assumed, if not hoped, he would be the next one to be pulled out and sold and every time they left with someone else in toe. When meal times would come these man, his fellow prisoners would turn into a pact of ravenous animals fighting for the scraps thrown down to us. Pharnox grabbed what he needed to survive and got out of the pile before getting hurt, but as the numbers started to dwindle the scraps seemed to become more plentiful and the fighting subsided to a general understanding that if we were going to survive it would have to be together.
When the young female elf half-breed looked into the pit Pharnox could almost sense the human blood flowing through her vanes. In response to Grokar's remark about elf-meat he said "If it's an elf you want you will be sorely disappointed, because she will taste terrible with that taint of human that lingers throughout her entire being. I thinks she maybe more human then elf."
Christoff wakes at the half-orc's prompting. "Oh, are we eating people now? If I wasn't nearly starving I'd abstain."
Looking up at the half-elf, Christoff asks hopefully, "You seem to be not trapped in a bit have you heard of the van Alst family sending payment?"
Getting no answer, Christoff begins pacing and mumbling about old wizards and stupid maps.
Ghae raises her eyebrows and looks over at Killian.
Something else?
The animalistic look melts off of Talric's face as he overhears the conversation, and the rest of the people there can see that he isn't the bloodthirsty savage he pretended to me. In a craggy baritone, Talric addresses the two at the top of the pit. "Hail, Fraujaz Killian, Fraujo Half-Elf. I am Talric Dtunson, once member of the Jotunslayer tribe. If your intent is to recover a heirloom, I will certainly help you of my own free will. In my tribe, our ancestors guide our path and strengthen our sword-arms. To lose such a totem is a great tragedy, and I will gladly help you recover it. If this 'Saecaroth' contains dangerous monsters, then it will aid me in my Journey as well. But, what will happen to us once we recover your totem? And, Fraujo, my apologies if I offended you earlier. I, understandably, was trying to make an escape with my companions."
Pharnox turns a keen ear towards the top of the pit and after Talric pledges himself to the task he hollows shouting up "During one of my nightly...let's call them ventures, through the city at night I've heard rumors that the High Druid is sending her own band of heroes into Saecaroth. It would be a shame if they were to find your precious family heirloom while we sit here rotting in this pit."
Humans change sides like its nothing. Now he wants to be a slave? What kind of plan is this?
"We can get there first if we get let out," Grokar says with confidence, "but what is to stop us from running out the other side?"
He doesn't bother apologizing to the half elf - elves do taste good.
"Hmm dangerous monsters? They do tend to inhabit some interesting places. Hell, anything is better than this boring smelly pit."
Ghae looks down into the pit:
And, why would the High Druid be sending a party into this dungeon? What interest would she have in such a place?
"I hear talk of a blight that has encompassed the area and she is sending her heroes to cleanse it, but in the end these are adventurers so anything they find will just be an addition to their payment. Now if this heirloom is so great you know they will take it for their own, even if they have no idea what it might do to or for them. Which brings me back to my original statement of the longer we stand here wallowing in this pit the closer they will be to finding your treasure without us." Pharnox yells back in response.
Ghae steps back and thinks for a minute before turning to Killian:
Do you know anything of this blight? I have heard that there was a blight effecting the woods, but thought it originated from the fabled Mouth of Doom. What would be in this dungeon you intend to send these prisoners into which would cause such a horrid blight? And more importantly, why are you so focused on this heirloom, yet you, who clearly have relations with druids somewhere in your family, do not seem in the least interested in a blight that could destroy the forest you call home.
Ghae looks at Killian.
Why did the druidic order turn their back on your ancestor? Unless he was doing something to harm nature, most druids would not turn their back on another protector of the forest. It is clear from your abilities and tattoos that you have ties to the wild. Perhaps you should contact the druids and ask for a task to atone for whatever caused this schism. This was your ancestor. I do not know how long ago it was, but while nature has a long memory, I cannot see why the wrongs that the druids of olde believed your ancestor to have done should still bar you from following the path of the druids.
As far as the language, it is something that is taught to all druids, and none other. I would teach you, but to do so would bar me from further druidic teachings. None but the druids know the tongue, and none but the druids are allowed to know and speak the language. If you truly wish to know it, then you must make amends with the druids, even if doing so would seem foolhardy or offensive to your beliefs. For, until you have been accepted into their faith, you cannot be taught the tongue and even if you were to somehow learn it without being accepted as a druid, this would not aid you as none but druids speak the language so it would be useless, not to mention that you would likely be marked as an enemy of the faith and hunted by druids and other creatures of the wild.
Christoff looks around at his fellow pit dwellers, "Can you hear what they're saying?"
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Grokar turns to Christoff and tries his best to quietly summarize.
"Something really bad is killing stuff off in the forest and the elf thinks its here. Killian doesn't care about that, but wants us to go in there and get his treasure before others do. The elf says he should care more about the bad thing and that he's not druidy enough."
Grokar looks over to the other two as well, thinking hard.
"We could break out now while they're talking. It might be easier to go in and get the die, though."
Talric eats and drinks sparingly, letting the others in the pit have their fill. After living in the wilderness for most of his life, Talric could get on with little food and drink, and it would be wise to let the others who have larger appetites to eat their fill. Although he seems to drink his fill, people who look closely see that Talric only drinks a little bit of the mead.
Can I notice anything of interest about our new companions in the pit?
Grokar produces a small growl as he moves to the venison, trying for a larger share.
The next few days are going to be hard if we want to grab the die and escape. I hope we can find something to kill Killian while we're in there.
He downs as much as he can quickly, then turns to grab a drink of mead to wash it down. It isn't until he's had his fill of food that he remembers about the potions, turning to find them all grabbed up.
I hope one of the others will share.
Talric gets up just a little before dawn, yawning. He grabs some of the venison-no mead-to gnaw on, leaving a little for his companions for their breakfast, and starts pacing. When the rope is lowered, Talric shakes his sleeping companions. Talric says "Wake. We are to leave soon," before grabbing hold of the rope and climbing up easily.
Once out of the pit, Talric looks toward Killian and asks "Fraujaz Killian, may I have my armor and earthbreaker? I have no doubt I will need them on this expedition."
After swiping what little food he could from what Grokar left, Pharnox falls asleep in the comfort of the shadows.
In the morning he takes a couple bites from what's left of last night's dinner and, still not feeling the greatest about his current situation, takes a decent swig of mead to settle his nerves.
As the rope is lowered Pharnox will quickly shimmy up it. Upon the return of his equipment he starts to feel a little better, nearly hugging it like a long lost friend before strapping the remaining equipment to himself.
Talric checks his equipment thoroughly, making sure that he had everything. The Northlander then shrugs on his armor and massive hammer, the one he had called an "earthbreaker." Taking a swig from his waterskin, Talric thanks Killian for his equipment. "Fraujaz Killian, I vow to return the die to you. For letting me go, I am oathbound to do so to fulfill my debt." Shoulder his pack and earthbreaker, the barbarian waits for the others to get their equipment.
"Intersting,", Talric mutters to himself as he strides through the field. "The intelligence of these wolves remind me of the winter worgs kept by the jotuns in my homeland, and yet they do not seem to mean us any harm." Talric looks curiously at all of the wolves, wonderstruck. He almost felt as if he had a strange... communion, or bond with these wolves. Shrugging, he continues on.
Christoff inspects his spellbook and then places it in his bag with the rest of his things and puts his amulet on. He takes a few minutes to prepare himself, he grabs his morningstar "I really hope I don't have to use this." and follows the others.
Christoff agrees with Talric. "It really is interesting, Killian if we return with your die will you tell me about these wolves?"
Grokar's face makes obvious his distaste for his group's sudden bonding with their captor. The furs and hides he usually wears cover up what had been a near-naked form. He straps his wide-hemmed bandolier across his shoulder, made to carry the six javelin he now slid behind his back. Over the same shoulder (so as not to tear on the pointy ends), he carries his bag, full of pretty much nothing.
All these wolves and another group got in? They must have a way out, too.
"Let's get this over with. I want to be free again, not bound to do the work of others."
If Killian is right then these wolves will leave when the blight is gone if we get the die or not. We have very little reason to actually help him, but I wonder what's so good about this die.
Talric turns to Killian. "We will return with the Die, Fraujaz Killian." Giving a nod of the head towards Killian-the Northlands equivalent of a bow-Talric beckons toward his companions and begins striding down the stairs.
"It seems our competition has based through here recently."
Turning back to Killian, "Do you know where this die is meant to be? If we can head straight for it, we are more likely to beat the others to it."
Pharnox sees the darkness at the bottom of the stairs and his heart skips a beat. "Finally darkness, my long lost friend. We have been in the light for too long, it was blinding." And with that Pharnox runs for the shadows at the bottom of the stairs.