|
As Flametouched and Ormak head down the road, townsfolk from every shanty shack and workshop peer out at the pair. For once, neither the warforged or the shifter feels out of place on account of his race. The Festering Holt is... diverse, if nothing else.
A small southern guard tower looms a meager fifteen feet over what is more or less the Holt's only intersection, near the east barricade wall. A hobgoblin guard stares down at the pair while his elven counterpart sharpens the end of a javelin. In the streets, a couple of human women and a presumably-female kobold - all dressed in ruined finery that was probably once very expensive - proposition Ormak. One of the weathered-beyond-her-years human women offers to "get" Ormak for free, on account of the fact that she's "never done a wolfman before."
Flametouched reaches the shrine unchallenged (with Ormak presumably hanging back a bit). The structure is a meager altar surrounded by a circle of paved, white-washed stone. Seven copper coins and a single arrow lay atop the shrine. Approaching the shrine itself, however, Flametouched notices something truly unusual.
There's an orc sleeping behind the small altar. The orc wears expensive-looking armor and cradles an equally-expensive-looking composite longbow. Both items are armaments of superior craftsmanship, and the orc's belt is stuffed with flasks, scrolls, and what must be silver or mithril arrows. By some small miracle, no-one has made a move to molest or steal from the shrine or it's sleeping guardian.
Even slumbering with his back to the back of the shrine, the broad-shouldered orc has an air of menace about him. Burn scars decorate his left wrist and hand, and a broken tooth protrudes from his orcish underbite. He does not stir at Flametouched's approach.
Meanwhile, at the tavern, Xzot, Nark, and Lothar head downstairs to work the room and give Karbal and the locals the appearance of long-term guests . The nude changeling at the bar grins at your group, drunkenly.
The composition of the patrons has changed slightly, since you went to your rooms. The pickpocketing woman has disappeared and some sort of monkey-man has joined the adventurer's table. The monkey-folk and the well-equipped human each have a friendly arm around the other. They're laughing and joking with the mutant and the feathered bird-man. As the lovely "Lady Jenise" passes the table by, the simian humanoid gives Xzot a charming and sincere smile. The strange and hideous mutant-man across from him notices the gesture, and gives the whole party a barely-perceptable and somehow apologetic nod of greeting. The ogress in the back of the bar looks a little drunker than before (though the drink before the halfling that shares her table is untouched).
Karbal is still behind the bar, where you left him. He surveys the tavern floor with a bemused expression as he absentmindedly pours the changeling another drink. You notice for the first time a tiny figure sitting on the shelves behind the bar, among the bottles and glasses. It appears to be a gnomish child - a young gnome girl. A creature - a small kangaroo mouse or some similar sort of desert rodent - sits in her lap, peering around the room. Karbal spares your group a wink.
Lothar would will stick with "the Lady Jenise" for now. He is still employed for now, and she has proven to not be an idiot. While he would very much like to drink himself to oblivion after the day he has had, he will content himself with what he drank in his room.
Nark is drinking his cup empty and is getting a new one to be replaced. Having fun and the place being so exotic for NOT kicking or driving him out Nark is taking everything out of his experience.
The small gnome girl seemed nice in Nark eyes. Approaching her Nark is having hard time speaking You look nice. Like to burn thingz? Nark likez zhiniez and burning. Animalz too nice Nark somber
|
|
The girl glowers down at Nark, expressionless. Karbal, only a foot or two away, watches the exchange, idly. He also refills Nark's mug, and raises an eyebrow to Lothar and Lady Jenise, as if to ask if they're sure they don't want a drink...
Bizzarely, the kangaroo rat darts down from the shelves as Nark addresses the tiny gnomish girl. Standing on the bar, dangerously close to Nark's wide, toothy mouth, the rat speaks.
"No!" It squeaks.
"No, no, no. You talk to me, not to her! What's your business?!"
The girl, for her part, stares down blankly from her place on the shelf.
Flametouched examines the scene for a long moment, casting a glance over its shoulder toward Ormak as it considers the shrine's sleeping guardian. After the pause, it closes its eyes and spends a few minutes in contemplation of the Flame's Divine Purpose, reopening them and smiling slightly (likely the first such expression Ormak has seen on its face). Finally, it kneels next to the orc and murmurs, in its most gentle tone, "Excuse me."
Eyes widening and looking at rat Nark smiles, revealing his wide mouth full of sharp teeth. Rat.... rat.... ooo, rat zpeaky but why to zpeak to rat? Rat important? What gnome girl iz?
|
|
The kangaroo rat puffs out it's chest, standing upright on two legs.
"My name is Uniwiewiewien. You leave the girl alone, goblin. The girl won't talk to you. She's not a girl, anyway. Go bother someone else!"
The rat does it's best to sound intimidating, but it's just not working.
Meanwhile, at the shrine:
Roused, the orc grunts and casts a sidelong, bloodshot glance at Flametouched. There is no alarm, no cunning, and no fear in the bleary gaze; only a weary calm. The orc stares for a moment, then grasps for the lip of the altar as he stiffly rises to his feet.
"Courage, traveller; and hail." The orc coughs.
"This is the shrine..." - another cough interrupts this statement.
"Egh. This is the shrine of Kalok Shash, the flame that binds. I am Ohak, and I am Ghaash'kala. What troubles you?"
Flametouched's Knowledge (religion):
Flametouched inclines its head in greeting. "Hail, Ohak. I am Flametouched," the warforged replies. "I am merely a traveler passing through this Holt due to mischance, but you need not concern yourself with my burdens. I would ask, though, if I might: what can you tell me of 'Kalok Shash'? I am, in my way, a pilgrim, and your words and shrine intrigue me."
|
|
Flametouched, the tale that Ohak tells you is fascinating. The story of Kalok Shash is remarkably similar to that of the legends that surround the origins of the Silver Flame.
"A foreign savior sacrifices her life to bind the willing spirits of the couatl race to contain or defeat an ancient evil."
The Ghaash'kala, however, do not revere the flame that binds as a deity. Rather, the flame that binds is a prison - not a god. It is a symbol of hope and a reminder that evil can be defeated, to be sure, but it is also a reminder that the mortal races that still walk Eberron owe their existance to the noble couatl that gave their souls up to forge a prison for the demon within the flame. Ohak isn't vague about the nature of the evil within the Kalok Shash, either. The demon within the flame, according to the Ghaash'kala, is none other than the greatest of the Lords of Dust, the ancient sons of Kyhyber that ruled over the world above and the world below during the Age of Demons.
To your amazement, Ohak reveals to you that the ultimate goal of the Ghaash'kala is to unbind the flame that binds, but only when a savior mighty enough to defeat the demon within the flame finally graces Eberron. In doing so, the Ghaash'kala would - at last - destroy the evil contained inside the prison that is Kalok Shash, and grant a final rest to the spirits of the foreign champion and the noble couatl whose souls comprise the eternal prison.
Additionally, Ohak confesses that the shrine is a new construction, and that only recently have the Ghaash'kala opened an avenue of communication with the Holt.
Flametouched listens to the orc's tale with reverent silence. When it is complete, the warforged waits a contemplative moment longer before speaking. "Your words are deeply moving, Ohak. I, too, am a servant of the Divine Flame, and I find your ideas have much in common with my own. I serve the Flame's purpose - to oppose evil, shelter the needy, and give hope to the fallen - and I would be glad, I think, to call you friend. How did the Ghaash'kala come to the Demon Wastes? Do you seek out the Lords of Dust in this desolate place?"
Pulling up to the bar, Lady Jenise orders a drink from Karbal, making some conversation. "Well now, Master Karbal, I must say you have a very comopolitan city here, a strange sight in this area. You must tell me all about it, I find it quite fascinating."
|
|
Ohak chuckles, humorlessly. "How did we come to the Wastes? That is a question I'm not sure I can answer, golem. We have always been here, and if there is any other answer, I do not know it. Neither do I know how you could have come to know of the binding flame without first coming to know of the Ghaash'kala. All the same, I am not surprised. The flame calls to many, though few know it's name."
"Never have I known the flame's light to shelter the needy, for that matter. In the wastes, the needy and the weak must be tempered and made strong, or... they must die. But I warn you, traveller. If you venture into the Labyrinth, you will find that my people are not much like me. Armor is uncommon among the Ghaash'kala. I wear this itchy suit of mail because it affords a mundane layer of defense against scoundrels and thieves. In the Wastes, the best way to stay alive is not to be seen at all."
"That is not the most important difference between my brothers and I, Flametouched. Heed this last, well. My pur-"
Another coughing fit interrupts the orc, again.
"Feh. My purpose in this Holt, Flametouched, is to watch this settlement - so close to the ruined throne of the Lords of Dust, the ancient city within the everlasting sandstorm to the northwest - for signs of direct fiendish corruption. I've made my purpose clear to the strange, soft people who inhabit this place, and that is why myself and my shrine go unmolested. The combined forces of the Ghaash'kala tribes could eliminate this shadow of a civilization from the face of Eberron if they were so required."
"That this place is allowed to survive - to exist at all - so close to the demon's throne, is a ill-boding mystery. It is of... concern to my people. Were I to report a corruption here, or were I to fail to report at all, the Holt would not fare well."
The Ghaash'kala, however, are not known to watch. In fulfilling my purpose here, I forgo action. If your... travels take you to the Labyrinth, you will find my brothers and sisters in arms convinced of one truth. All that the Wastes touch, and all that touch the Wastes, are corruputed. The Ghaash'kala included."
"We believe, my friend, that none who enter the wastes may ever be allowed to leave it. That is our purpose. We battle demons, and we contain the spread of their influence. We do this in order to protect the rest of the world from the influence of this terrible place. I was chosen for this task because my constitution is feeble and my time on this rock is more than half past. I was chosen, too, for my skill at diplomacy and tact. My people are known for neither, and if you intend to leave the Wastes, they may very well be required to... stop you. Were I to believe that I could stop you myself without endangering my objectives in the Holt, I might be required to do the same, right now."
The orc says this with a touch of genuine bemusement.
"That said, I find it an inspiration that Kolak Shash has touched you, from so far away. Though I know not from where you hail, I can see that it is from somplace far away from here. Though you are a man, you are clearly also a wizard's device. Truly, the reach of the flame that binds is vast, to touch someone so strange and so far-removed from the Wastes."
The orc's tone is sincere, in this last, and though he speaks plainly, he seems to mean no offense.
|
|
Meanwhile, back at Dead Before Dawn, Karbal seems perfectly pleased to have occasion to run his mouth.
"Oh indeed, Lady Jenise. And what a fine addition to it you and your companions'll make."
"Of course I know you mean to leave, but no doubt you upstanding southern-mainland types mean and fully intend to pay your way, first. And who knows? Before you're finished here, you may decide to stay. You wouldn't be the first..."
Karbal nods to the adventurer's table.
As he does, he gingerly lifts the kangaroo rat with whom Nark was speaking into his paw, and carefully reunites it with the tiny gnomish girl sitting on the shelves, behind him.
Lothar listened to the Goblin yammering back and forth with the rat and with the Bugbear droning on to his...Employer. "Lady Jenise" made Lothar a little uneasy. While he could not definitively blame her for the calamity that brought him to his forsake dust pit, he thought she must know more than she was letting on. Still until she missed a payment, he would consider her his employer.
Lothar watched the bar.
"I guess we'll have to see how friendly the locals are. The prospect of marching all that way doesn't sound all that appealing myself. I mean, the shock from the crash alone, it's more than a girl like me should be exposed to. Might have to stay a few days, recover and everything." She pauses to sip at her drink before continuing. "So why don't you tell me about some of your residents here? Like that group over there playing cards."
Omrak listens intently to the words of the Orc and thinks to himself "This is a much different version of the Silver Flame than back home. One I could almost tolerate. Almost."
|
|
"Aye, that you might," Karbal rumbles, cheerfully. Then, in response to your query about the card-playing table:
"Oh, that's Harmon in the studded leather. Adventurer. Well, retired. One of my most esteemed, er... citizens." Karbal grins.
"He does well out here. Very well. And thanks in great part to me, I might humbly add. The bird-fella sitting to his left is Pauhan. And the unforunate fellow across from Harmon is named Dell. Dell Aversana. Human, believe it or not. One of the carrion tribes got him. That's what the native barbarians are called. Carrion tribes. Ate the skin right off his face... chest... some other places, too. A real shame."
"And monkey-boy there... he's an old aventuring buddy of Harmon's. He's from across the sea. Sar...lona? Something like that. I think that's it. Some kinda sorcerer, or wizard, or whatever. Don't know why he stays, to be honest."
"How about you, m'lady? You and your grey friend, there. Noble-wimmens and grey dwarves are both uncommon sights, out this way. You gonna have friends coming to look for you, Lady Jenise?"
It occurs to you that it's possible that the Twelve may very well mount some kind of investigation or - dare you hope - rescue. Of course, none of you were officially passengers, and the houses would have no reason to journey out to Festering Holt...
"A woman of my standing, I should say they will as soon as they hear we didn't arrive at our destination. I suppose another reason to stay in town awhile. Why risk the dangers out there when we can simply wait for them to come to us."
"Well, if you'll excuse me Master Karbal, I think I might just go introduce myself." Lady Jenise takes her leave of Karbal and goes over to their table. "Good day gentlemen. Don't suppose you'd mind if I join you for a game?"
|
|
Grinning, Harmon nudges a chair under the table with his foot so that it scoots out for you (a seat between Dell and the still-nameless monkeyfolk).
"I was wondering when you would."
Pauhan seems to glower, and retreats into his seat (and his robes) a bit, as you're invited. Dell smiles warmly - a gesture that is clearly-readable despite his horriffic appearance.
The simian humanoid smiles, as well. "Yes, yes, please. Sit," he chimes. "I am Vau, and this is Harmon, Dell, and Pauhan."
Lady Jenise takes the proferred seat. "Thank you, Master Harmon. And a pleasure to meet you. The rest as well, Vau, Dell, Pauhan. My companions and myself might be here for awhile, so thought I'd get to know some of the major residents in town. Lady Jenise is my name. You must tell me more about this town, it's people. So far from everything, I'm sure it has a fascinating story."
|
|
Dell rasps, "I'm sure it does, Lady, but none of us is old enough to know it."
"And I'm sure it's a story the Holt would like to forget, so let's let it," adds the smiling Harmon.
"Now forgive me if I'm being rude," he continues. "but surely you can't expect us to keep calling you 'Lady Jenise'. Have you got a first name?"
Pauhan cocks his head at a funny angle.
"Well if you wish to get a little more personal, you'll have to beat me in hand, won't you." She returns Harmon's smile as she waits for the cards. "Of course, you'd have to wager something as well. Any ideas?"
|
|
Jenise picks up no particular evasiveness in the group's dismissal of the Holt's story. Harmon deals her in.
"A wager on your first hand? Have you ever played 'Follow Me' before? It's a tricky game."
Xzot's Knowledge (local):
Unexpectedly, Pauhan joins the conversation. "I'll wager you something," he caws. The tengu lacks lips, but the sneer in his voice is unmistakable.
"If you win the hand, I'll tell you how the Holt came to be."
He glowers, his head cocked at an unsettling angle. Dell seems to shake his head just a tiny bit, at Pauhan's tone.
"If I win the hand, you'll tell me why you lied to Karbal about who you are, and about your fabricated 'friends' en route to rescue you."
Pauhan isn't shouting by any means, but he's speaking loudly enough for Karbal to overhear, if he's listening.
Nark looks as Karbal takes the rat away and looks a bit astounded with his big eyes popping out. Zipping from his mug and looking around for amusement Nark sniff the air for all that extraordinary what was there.
Walking in zig-zag to the door of tavern and entering outside Nark looks for the rat people he saw not so long time ago and rumbles through his pouches for the burnable items. Giggling for himself and looking around for the rats Nark begin to wander in the street and in his mayhem poke stuff, scratch, eats little bit interesting stuff and walks next to the windows and peeks inside.
Upon seeing something interesting Nark just picks it up and put its in his bag.
Perception
|
|
Nark spies no sign of the ratfolk from before. Heading out the door and down the road a ways, Nark can see Flametouched and Ormak across the way, near a strange shrine. A small kobold woman in a ridiculous dress gives Nark a small growl from a nearby doorway, and two human women in similar attire acknowledge him as well - one with a wink, and the other with a troubled wince.
A hobgoblin and an elf watch you from a guard tower near the north wall, to your right. The elf sharpens his javelins obsessively, and stares quite intently at Nark's passage.
A couple of human thugs (two of the guards, from before) stroll down the street to your left. Neither pays Nark any mind. They pass by a large building down the road - perhaps the largest in town, rivalling even Karbal's tavern for size. It seems to be some kind of combination supply-store-and-junkyard.
Lady Jenise picks up her cards, smiling at the Tengu. "My, my, my Pauhan, you must truly be an entertainer to come up with such stories. That sounds like the plot of Pantio's Le sentier des Anges. An excellent play, I must say. I took in an entire gnomish production of it while I was in Zilargo a couple years back. And besides, I already put my wager as my first name for the good Master Harmon. If you'd like to bet against that as well, then please feel free."
|
|
Pauhan glowers. "I'll wager against your name, Lady Jenise." Pauhan drops a copper coin into the "pot," perhaps to represent your name.
"I'll wager my silence. I'll drop the whole matter if you can collect my bet. If not, know that I'll have some... follow-up questions. Strangers with secrets never seem to bode well for the Holt, noblewoman." He makes a comical gesture - that of "locking" his beak shut - then throws the imaginary "key" into the pot as well.
Harmon, for his part, clearly finds the whole exchange entertaining.
"Pauhan, you heartless crow. I trust your social intuitions - you know that - but let the lady keep a little mystery about her, why don't you? Why... that's the most important of all the feminine wiles. Mystery." He winks at Lady Jenise.
Glowing with good cheer, Harmon adds: "In any case, I'm sitting this hand out. It's Dell's turn to deal, and he's never delt me a fair hand yet, the cur."
Vau adds: "I'll wager the whole table's silence about this whole mess," he says. His tone is cheery enough, but it seems to mask a little distaste for Pauhan's behaviour. He tosses in another copper coin.
Dell, lastly, wagers as well. "I'll wager a round of drinks. As in, the table is buying me a whole round of drinks when I collect this pot." He claps a dirty shot glass over the two copper coins, making the pot one glass, two copper coins, and one imaginary key.
"Thank you, Master Harmon, but I must say, sitting out this game? I might have to deprive you the honor of hearing my name if one of your fellows happen to beat my hand. Of course I could see Pauhan here letting such a worthy prize out to all. How such a handsome beak can make such accusations, I'll never know."
Lothar declines to take a seat at the table, instead standing at the Lady's back and fingering the fletching of an arrow.
[ooc]Perception to see if anyone is cheating
"Hmmm, I think I'll have to see how this plays out. I'll stay."
|
|
"Me, too," says Vau.
"Follow me, and I'll raise you the riveting tale of the Festering Holt." Pauhan rolls his eyes, and deposits a small, black down-feather from his own person into the pot.
"I'll follow you, and raise you another round of drinks. On you, when I win this hand, like I told you I would." adds Dell. He claps another shot glass upside-down over the first. The copper coins within are double-blurred.
"Listen to the dealer," Harmon advises.
Pauhan smiles. You don't know how you can tell that he does, but somehow you just can. "Nonsense: Dell's bluffing. So what'll you follow me with, stranger? Or are the rest of your secrets too valuable to wager?"
"Who doesn't have a few skeletons in their closet? Mine is named Chlora. Would the table rather hear her story, or shall I repeat how I came to the Holt for my bet?" [ooc]Lady Jenise will agree to either.
Flametouched is silent for some time, considering the orc's lengthy speech. When it does at last speak, it does so with unusual quiet and perhaps even a touch of uncertainty. "Perhaps it would surprise you to know, my friend, that the core of your tale of Kolak Shash is known across the Five Nations, and there is an entire country dedicated to the worship of the flame at the center of their version of the story? I have seen that flame as it gushes up from the heart of Eberron, and it was there that I felt it touch my... my soul. For you are right, of course: I am indeed a wizard's creation, or more precisely an artificer's, designed and built as a weapon of war. Before I stood before the Flame I did not even know I had a soul, let alone a purpose beyond killing. Now, though, there is nothing else in me but the Flame; it has burned all else away, and left only the purest behind."
After another long pause, the warforged continues, "But your story has illuminated something else for me. I have long thought that my own experience of the Divine Flame differed from those I met in the lands south of here. Now I find your experience differs again, from both my own and from what I know of others'. I think... I think perhaps the Flame is bigger even than any one of us can comprehend, that it reveals only a part of itself to each who follow it - or perhaps we are only capable of understanding a part of it, no matter how much we might wish to take it all in."
"As for your warning, Ohak of the Ghaash'kala, I will remember it," Flametouched concludes, unoffended. "You and your people understand much more of this place than I; perhaps you are indeed right to believe so. I know of plagues that must be contained within a village, that they do not spread - but I also know that in such cases, the healthy are condemned just as the sick are, and all suffer together. I am less concerned for myself than for my companions, but in truth, I cannot say where we might travel from here. Perhaps we will all find purpose in the Wastes. And if I come to feel the Flame is drawing me beyond... then I will be prepared for what will follow, and place my trust in the Flame to see me through." It nods respectfully. "You have given me much to think about, Ohak, and I am most pleased to have met you. We are staying tonight at Karbal's tavern, if you wish to seek me out." The warforged rises, preparing to leave.
Interested and curiosity raising as Nark watches the big house and begin to approach it after showing finger to elf, smirking mouth open and pushing other fingers inside his ear.
Fooling and being rude to the elf as he walks towards the large building but soon forgetting as he sees the junkyard and supplies. Excited and beginning to run around and trying new things as he passes by... occasionally touching his pouch for his burning tools
|
|
Vau folds, and Pauhan reveals his hand. "Aye, I'll hear your... story," the tengu caws. His hand is indeed a winner.
"And your name. Your real name."
Harmon finally checks his cards. "Would've lost. Big surprise."
The remarkably high-spirited Dell orders a couple of rounds of drinks with a gesture. Pauhan peers at Lady Jenise, obviously eager to catch her bluffing about her name or the story of "Chlora."
Meanwhile, out-of-doors:
Ohak listens gravely to Flametouched's stories of the lands south of the Wastes. "It surprises me to learn of this... nation you describe. It's a pity I'll never see it. If what you say is true, then the armies of this place should be here, on the battlefield. I cannot imagine that the situation is more dire in the opulent lands to the south where men have the resources to forge ornamental armors and golem companions than they are here in the Wastes, where every head is counted and demons and carrion barbarians lurk behind every rock."
"You're right to say that the flame is beyond the ken of you and I, though. It is both a prison and something much more than that. The spirits that gave themselves to it's forging did more than bind an evil. They bound men and orcs, and wilds and wastes, and minds and bodies together. For all it's horrors, the Wastes are a sacred place, too. I hope you find your purpose here, Flametouched. Your companions, too." Ohak nods to the lurking Ormak.
Before settling back on the ground, to sit, Ohak gives you one last simple piece of flatly-delivered advice:
"Good luck, and 'ware Karbal."
Down the road a bit, Nark wanders past the human thugs, approaching the large supply store. The taunted elven guard doesn't bat an eye at Nark's gestures - simply continuing to sharpen his javelins, obsessively.
The supply house does indeed seem to double as a junkyard. A tall wooden privacy fence surrounds a large lot, behind the building. The smell of garbage is unmistakable.
"Slow down, crazy." Remarks one of the thuggish guards. "You'll break your neck."
"Well then, let us get Pauhan is winnings. I'll start with the story of Chlora. If you wish to continue the next hand, please feel free.
"Chlora was a teacher during my university days, taught Khorvaire history. Older, but still pretty for her age. Despite this she was still single, and as far as my friends and I knew hadn't been seeing anyone. We thought it was strange. So we all decided to learn more about her. We learned a few surprising things.
"To start with she never socialized outside of classes. With anyone. Straight from university to her home. She never received guests either, not a one. And she had a magnificent home, large and spacious, left to her by her father. She only had one servant, and he was forbidden to speak of her. Did all her shopping as well. And then there were the packages, sealed shut for no one to see. All suspicious.
"Well, one day we decided to learn what sinister things Chlora was up to. We happened upon a day where one of the packages was delivered to her house. A friend had procured a scroll to open her door, and we went through her house, attempting to learn her secrets. Of course as soon as we found her basement stairs, those are what we took. We began to have doubts then, and I volunteered to go forward alone.
"I crept down into the basement, to an ominous portal, slightly ajar with light coming from it. I heard Chlora talking beyond, so I quietly snuck all the way up, right until I was about to sneak a glance inside. Of course, I had chosen to wear a dress still that day and tripped right over the hem, crashing through the door.
"That's when I learned Chlora's sinister secret. Prepared for anything from demonic summoning to a death cult, I wasn't prepared for what I saw, the truly horrific site before me. Chlora....was BALD!" Lady Jenise cannot help but stifle a laugh at this point.
"Of course, I'm sure you can't understand how dreadful such a thing to be. So pretty, only to have her hair a lie. We ended up talking for hours. Learned it was an accident with some magical device to enhance her hair. No magic had been able to restore it. A sad thing that was, for her to change her entire life over such a horrible secret.
"To know such a terrible secret about a person who has become a good friend, you should feel honored I shared it with you all. And by the by, Pauhan, my name is Tyra, as real to me as your own is to you."
Lothar breaks out in a strange hacking cough, and pounds his chest.
Aid Another bluff
Ormak stays quiet while Flametouched and the Orc discuss the Flame. Before leaving he says to Ohak "Be glad you no nothing of the Silver Flame of the civilized lands. It is a corrupted, foul religion which almost single-handily wiped out two races, my Lycanthrope ancestors and my fellow Shifters, all because we are supposedly bestial, savage enemies of civilization and thus we must be tainted by some great evil." He pauses for a few moments, letting his anger cool off.
"This Kolak Shash seems different, however. Were I not bound to my Druidic ways already, it might be something I could follow. Alas, I am a warrior and defender of the land, of Nature herself, and thus my duty is to Her first and foremost." He says this last proudly.
Flametouched, hearing Ormak's words as he turns to leave, turns back. "Ormak," the warforged says solemnly, "let me say something I should have said when we first met onboard the Dragonhawk: what the followers of the Flame did to your people was wrong, and I condemn it entirely. Alas, that is the terrible power of the Flame - used well, it warms, but used ill, it burns. I have seen the heart of the Flame, and there is nothing within it that speaks of blades raised against blameless souls, no matter their shape... or lack of same. They were fools, misguided or corrupt, who worked their evil on your ancestors; some still hold those foul thoughts within their hearts and seek to spread it to others, but I assure you that I am not among them, and should they come against you with such hate once more, know that I will stand against them with every ember of my being." He nods a respectful farewell to Ohak (a movement that also encompasses an acknowledgement of the orc's warning), then turns away to discover what mischief his fellow castaways might be caught in at the tavern.
|
|
"If you are indeed a defender of the natural, then you have much to do here, for the unnatural thrives in the Wastes," Ohak says.
"As for your southern "silver flame" - it sounds as though that flame's crusaders are in need of something to fight. If this nation's warriors cannot tell the evil within from the evil without, send them to the Ghaash'kala. One night in the Labyrinth, and they will know what it is to battle real evil."
"Farewell," he adds in closing.
Meanwhile, back at the tavern:
Pauhan listens to Lady Jenise's story, and blinks.
Harmon is the first to comment. "Tyra. What a lovely name. If I miss anything about Khorvaire proper, it's the women."
"Women with names like Alice, and Eva... and Tyra." He winks.
"All we have out this way are 'Chesty,' 'Wrinkles,' and 'Fi Fi'".
The group - minus Pauhan - chuckles. The tengu glowers (with more "pout" than "glare," for now), and shrinks back into his robes.
It's about this time that Flametouched and Ormak re-enter the tavern together. The group is reunited, save for the suspiciously-absent goblin.
"It is indeed a lovely name," Vau remarks, politely. His tone is absent of any flirtatiousness. At about the same time, Harmon fires a comical eyebrow-raise at Flametouched and Ormak's return.
nuhhuh... what iz there? Itz fun? Nark asks curiously as his hands keep twitching.
After a while thinking What iz it? Why zo big place here? and a though comes to his mind ratfolk living here?
"Why, Master Harmon, you certainly know how to make a girl blush. Though it seems my compaions have returned. If you all don't mind, I must see to them. Of course, if you're here tomorrow I might have to join you again." She winks at Harmon, then turns to Pauhan. "And you as well. I still need to win that story out of you." With that, Lady Jenise gets up and joins Flametouched and Ormak.
Ormak enters the tavern and walks to where "Jenise" is. "We should talk when you're done playing." He says quietly with a slight grin.
|
|
"The rats?" Asks the thuggy soldier.
"Aye, they do indeed have the run of things in the scrapyard. That's in the back. Gunla runs the shop, though. Don't you feckin' steal nothin, goblin."
At the tavern, Flametouched, Lothar, Ormak, and Xzot are finally regrouping.
"Calling it a night so early?" Harmon teases. Pauhan declines to reply.
Karbal bellows with hollow good nature: "Just as well. They have a busy day, tomorrow." Dell and Vau bid farewell to Lady Jenise and her friends, and Karbal simply grins at the party.