"I don't think they'll ever give us an affirmative response on this question, whether we wait an hour or not." mentions Xanderghul. "We came here for a reason. Let's get our job done."
The older man's eyes sparkle no recognition at Unafe's appearance or title. The saurian-shaped woman finds that the other Demetae recoil from her and stare at her with a mixture of fascination and fear.
"Ah, wel .... mae croeso i bob Demetae yma, chwaer, o unrhyw enw neu gred. Rydych chi fel Marhevok. Gallwch chi gymryd siâp sawriaidd, fel y rhyfelwyr Demetae chwedlonol hen." He pauses and frowns. "Ydych chi wedi dod i hawlio teitl Clan-Liege?"
"Ah, well.... all Demetae are welcome here, sister, of any name or creed. You're like Marhevok. You can take on the shape of a saurian, like the fabled Demetae warriors of old."
"Have you come to claim title of Clan-Liege?"
Unafe's ability to take on the shape of a saurian was not particularly unique amongst the Demetae - though she was more skilled at holding her form for longer periods than other saurian warriors and took on more noble saurian characteristics than most - many, many Demetae were able to take on more minor aspects of saurians for shorter periods of time.
He gestures and shrugs as she lists off a series of names. "Hen Aye, wrth gwrs, mae pob Demetae yn gwybod am Old Aye. Arweiniodd ein pobl allan o Gwm Taranau ac i ddiogelwch yn y Gorllewin trwy wysio'r Dolok Cynorthwyydd nerthol i'n hamddiffyn. Hyd yn oed wrth i'r sawriad olaf dynnu ei anadl olaf, arhosodd Dolok wrth ein hochr ni genhedlaeth ar ôl cenhedlaeth."
"Old Aye, of course, all Demetae know of Old Aye. He lead our people out of the Taranau Valley and into safety in the West by summoning the mighty Dolok Darkscale to our aide to protect us. Even after the last saurian drew its final breath, Dolok remained by our side for generation after generation."
Dolok Darkscale was the legendary Tyrannosaur companion of Goryon the Wise. He died a long time ago, but legendary shamans of the Demetae were said to be able to summon his ancestral spirit into battle. Old Aye must have accomplished something amazing to make him manifest for so long.
He stops, losing his train of thought when Hinagiku asks her question. "Byddai'n lladd pob un ohonoch yn gyntaf. Fe ddylech chi i gyd adael."
"He would kill all of you first. You should all leave."
"A chi." he says, gesturing at Unafe. "Os gallwch chi droi yn ddyn arferol, dylech chi wneud hynny. Bydd Marhevok yn tybio eich bod wedi dod i'w herio, rydych chi'n edrych fel eich bod chi wedi dod yma yn cosi am ymladd. Rhowch y gorau iddi. Marhevok yw'r Two-Fisted chwedlonol, ysbryd ailenedig hynafiad rhyfelwr hynafol sydd wedi dod i arwain y Demetae i ogoniant blaenorol. Ni fyddech yn sefyll siawns yn ei erbyn."
"And you. If you can turn into a normal human, you should. Marhevok will assume you have come to challenge him, you look like you've come here itching for a fight. Give up. Marhevok is the legendary Two-Fisted, the reborn spirit of an ancient warrior ancestor who has come to lead the Demetae into former glory. You would not stand a chance against him."
Unafe has never heard of 'Two Fisted'.
And with that he breaks off and gets back to work, clearly feeling uncomfortable at associating with a large group of well-armed outsiders.
Meanwhile, Ary confronts a different kellid, who was bearing the Crusader's Cross of a fallen ally. The man takes the cross off from his back as soon as it becomes clear to him what she was asking about, and he twirls it around in his hands as she speaks. It is made of solid cold iron, and its longest point is sharpened so that it can function as a dagger.
"Rwy'n cofio'r fenyw y cymerais hon ohoni. Ymladdodd fel bys mawr cynddeiriog. Ond mi wnes i ennill, a phrofi fy nerth. Pam ddylwn i ildio arf mor werthfawr?" He thinks on it for a moment, then continues, his tone curious. "Byddwn yn barod i fasnachu. Beth allech chi ei gynnig?"
"I remember the woman I took this from. She fought like a raging large-finger. But I won, and proved my strength. Why should I relinquish such a valuable weapon?"
"I would be willing to trade. What could you offer?"
'mawr cynddeiriog', or literally in Taldane, "large finger", is a Demetae term for Deinonychus.
As Unafe listens, her saurian eyes go wide. Old Aye called Dolok Darkscale back from his rest with the ancestors in our hour of need--and managed to get the Demetae safely out of Snjóbyl’s clutches! If, perhaps, I managed to buy him the time... For a moment, the young Two-Hearted dares to consider that perhaps her battle with Snjóbyl made a difference--even if only by delaying the destruction of their village. Her face turns ashen when another phrase sinks in: ‘Even after the last saurian drew its final breath’! She shivers.
”Felly mae'n wir ... does dim mwy o wir sawriaid?”
At the older warrior’s suggestion, Unafe effortlessly returns to her human form, smoothing out her blue war-kilt and shaking out her unruly hair. Even so transformed, she can tell that her mithral breastplate (once a common sight for honored warriors) and the ancestor-spirits that buzzed around her made her stand out from the Demetae she was meeting.
”Diolch am eich awgrym. Rwyf yma i wasanaethu'r Demetae orau ag y gallaf. Os yw'r Marhevok hwn yn gelwydd da, yna byddaf yn parchu hynny wrth gwrs. Pa hynafiad rhyfelwr sy'n cael ei aileni o'i fewn? O ble mae’n hawlio’r teitl ‘Dau-Fisted’?...A yw’n gelwydd da?”
A different person answers Unafe, a burly wide-set woman clad in mismatched armor that poorly fits her. An enormous great-axe is strapped to her back, and her face is mangled with battle-scars from some long ago fight.
"Mae Marhevok o'r clan Gaeafhaul - mae'n dwyn ysbryd rhyfelwr mawr Dau-restr y gorffennol, a aberthodd ei bywyd er mwyn i'r Demetae fyw. Dywedir iddi sefyll deuddeg troedfedd o daldra, a gallai bwmpio hyd yn oed brenin madfall gyda'i ddyrnau enfawr." she says in a husky voice.
"Though Marhevok is of the Wintersun clan - he bears the spirit of the great Two-Fisted warrior of the past, who sacrificed her life so that the Demetae might live. It is said she stood twelve feet tall, and could pummel even a lizard-king with her massive fists."
Wintersun does not sound like a Demetae family-name. It does sound Sarkorian, though.
Demetae surnames are generally the same as the name of the Clan-Liege that represented their family at the time of their birth.
Most places in Sarkoris could not support large populations, due to the vast expanses of frozen tundra being inhospitable to farming. So most Sarkorian clans were very small, composed of maybe a few dozen people, and nomadic. The Demetae, in contrast, were composed of a large allegiance of clans.
'brenin madfall' or 'lizard king' is a Demetae slang term for Tyrannosaurus Rex.
A few dozen feet away, an elderly kellid woman, her face barely distinguishable beneath an enormous mass of wrinkles, calls out in a feeble voice - "Dau Galon!" She starts to cough. "Dau Galon!"
"Two Hearted! Two Hearted!"
A young adolescent boy next to her pats her on the back. "Tawel, Nain, peidiwch â thorri ar draws pan fydd Gaeafhaul yn siarad."
"Quiet, Grandmama, don't interrupt when the Wintersuns are talking."
The woman with the enormous greataxe nods at Unafe. "Wrth gwrs mae Marhevok yn gelwydd mawr. Mae wedi arwain ein pobl i adennill ein genedigaeth fonheddig yn Sarkoris hynafol, ac unwaith eto i ddofi’r bwystfilod sawriaidd i’n gwasanaethu’n haeddiannol unwaith eto. Nid oes unrhyw un arall yn gryfach nac yn heini i arwain y Demetae. Os ydych chi'n dymuno ein helpu ni, yna helpwch. Mae yna arfau i'w hogi, ac mae angen atgyweirio anheddau. Nid yw'r sawl nad yw'n gweithio yn bwyta."
"Of course Marhevok is a great clan-liege. He has lead our people to reclaim our noble birth right in ancient Sarkoris, and to once again tame the saurian beasts to rightfully serve us once more. There is no one else more strong or fit to lead the Demetae. If you wish to help us, then help. There are weapons to be sharpened, and dwellings in need of repair. She who does not work does not eat."
"Does that story sound familiar to you at all, Unafe she whispers through her magic.
The entire thing had an air of a puffed-up pretender to the Clan-Liege position. It took all Isilme's self control to not respond with a sarcastic comment about how clearly warriors had trouble mastering one fist, much less TWO, or that the giant moldering pile of rotten carcasses was truly a testament to his greatness. Doing so would likely cause the others present, however much they disliked ol'Two-fists, to fall in to defend themselves from an attack from an outsider. Better to allow the situation to proceed to its natural conclusion.
"We should go ahead and request an audience one way or another. There's no other way to handle this."
Variska crosses her arms and scowls, standing next to Valais - the only one unreached by Isilme's magic, she carefully watches the others for signs of how they were planning to proceed without any knowledge of what they were speaking of under their breaths.
Valais meanwhile seems oblivious to the danger, muttering into the heroes' message as she writes, "the Abyssal-tainted saurians were unfortunately the only ones to survive thanks to their enhanced adaptability towards the extreme cold...oops, sorry everybody, didn't mean to say that out loud."
Meanwhile, Lann stands behind Ehren, trusting his friend to know how best to mediate the situation. He ignores the large, arrogant woman, instead sadly eyeing the frail children that were caught up in this situation.
These people cannot stay here, subsisting on tainted meat. They will eventually all get sick and die.
Xanderghul approaches the Clan-Liege's longhouse. Eyeing the lizards that guard the door, he frowns with distaste at the situation. It seemed that this clan has just returned to Sarkoris recently, based on the sorry sight of the buildings. Perhaps the Demetae fled their lands long ago, and now another clan -- the Wintersuns -- have come to live in Demetae land.
It is not safe to live here. Xanderghul hopes that they can neutralize this Two-Fists person and convince the remaining Demetae to come live within the boundaries of Mother Heartwood's influence. It was not far, and it would be safer to live outside the influence and send scouts within rather than spend all of ones' time inside the Wound.
Tiring of his compatriots' trepidation, he walks right towards the front door. If the lizards allow him to reach it, he pounds on the door with his iron staff. Either way, he shouts,
The two raptors snarl and growl, but they take a step back as the door is cracked open. One eye peers out, stares at Xanderghul for a moment, and then shuts.
The door doesn't shut all the way, and you hear the following whispered conversation:
"Pwy yw e?
"Hanner-orc, deheuwr. Meddai ei fod yn gennad."
"Llysgennad? Rydych chi'n golygu ... ganddi hi?"
The door then reopens. "An envoy, you say?" The gruff voice calls out. His accent isn't similar to the Sarkorian kellids the heroes generally spoke with - his is closer to Variska's*. "Whose envoy?"
Isilme's keen senses have no trouble picking up on the conversation behind the mostly closed door. She stifles a chuckle at the sight of the mighty "Two-Fists" having someone else check who is at the door instead of simply striding out to meet them.
"Pa fath o Clan-Liege sy'n edrych allan ar ddrws ac yn mynnu gwybod pwy sydd wedi dod i ymweld?" Isilme wonders aloud.
"It seems they're scared of someone sending an envoy. I wonder if the Liege hasn't made a deal with demons to be left alone, and is afraid of the payment coming due."
"We are not here to instigate a fight, Isilme," Ehren chides with a frown. His misgivings about the situation aside, belittling a clan-liege was hardly the right way to request an audience, especially if they planned to negotiate a peace. If things are going to proceed the way he fears they will, then they should do so naturally. "Not unless we are forced to."
Ehren nods to Unafe before approaching the longhouse, stepping up beside Xanderghul.
"Rhyfelwyr llwyth Wintersun, rydym yn genhadon o ddinas croesgadwr Drezen, i'r de o'r tiroedd hyn. Rwy'n Ehren o lwyth Ferron, Archesgob Sarkoris ac yn ffrind i'r Croesgadau," he starts, dreading the day that he will need to append more titles to his introductions. "Mae eich ysbeilwyr wedi lladd sgowtiaid croesgadwyr ac wedi dwyn eu cyflenwadau. Byddem yn dod i gytundeb, i roi'r gorau i dywallt gwaed pellach, ac i helpu i adfer y Demetae."
"Your raiders have slain crusader scouts and stolen their supplies. We would come to an accord, to cease further bloodshed, and to help restore the Demetae."
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Xander scoffs aloud at the residents' cowardice and hesitation. "Come out and meet us, if you want to discover who you are dealing with. We are not here for your heads, I assure you. If we were, I would not have knocked."
Unafe feels an uneasy, tilting feeling in her stomach. ’...Two FISTED...’? What does that even mean?
‘...tame the saurian beasts to rightfully SERVE us...’? This isn't my people, it's a mockery of them!
When Unafe hears ‘Dau Galon’, she pivots and walks over to squat beside the old woman. ”Na fydded eich hynafiaid byth yn bell, Mamgu Anrhydeddus. Rwy'n Unafe Dau-Galon, prentis Old Aye, wedi dychwelyd ar ôl carchariad hir yn nwylo Snjóbyl Soulhammer. Beth sydd wedi digwydd i'r Demetae? Ac i'n cwm annwyl?”
Hinagiku is is glad to hear that Marhevok was more likely to attack her companions and her rather than take out its anger on the Wintersuns and Demetae. As the conversation continues, Hinagiku cannot help but look at Unafe. She still remembered the title she had given herself and the bits and pieces of information she had shared. So she was remembered as a hero... perhaps claiming that title would help them.
Hinagiku gives a simple nod of acquiescence in support of Ehren's statement and truest in her body language and lack of weaponry to convey their peaceful intent.
Perhaps it had been Hinagiku who had initially slowed Ary's pace at her approach and reminded her to be serene in her interaction.
Ary is beginning to turn away when the man responds, her eyes turn downcast for a moment, before looking back up to him. "Ie, ei henw oedd Talasia Jacques. Roedd hi'n captain - arweinydd rhyfel - plaid sgowtiaid. Ei gwaith hi oedd edrych am fygythiadau a chyfleoedd i ddarparu cymorth." she says, before pausing in thought and mentally scanning over what she and her companions were carrying.
"Dwi ddim yn gwybod. Fel rheol, byddai gen i arfau ychwanegol i fasnachu â nhw, ond fe wnaethon ni adael llawer o offer ar ôl ar y daith hon." she says, patting the side of her pack.
"Mae gen i fwyd ... er yn debygol dim ond digon am ddiwrnod efallai i bawb yma."
she continues, before motioning to her black cloak.
"Mae gen i aur ac mae gen i ffwr ar fy nghefn."
"Ond arfau, does dim rhaid i mi sbario. Rwy'n deall pam y byddech chi'n betrusgar i fasnachu'ch un chi, gan fod fy un i yn bodoli i gadw fy nghynghreiriaid yn ddiogel."
"Byddaf yn siarad â nhw ac yn gweld beth maen nhw -" she stops to look at Xanderghul as he grows bored of everyone's conversations and decides to endanger himself at the edge of dinosaur-tooth-and-claw. "Gods damn it, Xander." she mutters, before turning bodily towards the interaction.
"Meddyliwch arno. Byddaf yn gofyn i'm cynghreiriaid ... ac yn ôl pan gaf." she says, before beginning to cross the intervening space, falling in behind Ehren.
The archdruid had a way with words when he needed to - or perhaps he simply spoke a language that Ary did not. He somehow managed to speak with more authority than the leader of a city on more occasions than one.
Unlike Hinagiku, Ary was heavily armored and armed, and much more clearly a Crusader as she moves to his opposite flank clearly backing him rather than taking a leading role. Any words that Ary had to share on the topic would wait. She mostly agreed with Isilme - her hope to gain an ally in the north had rapidly been tempered with wondering how to transport so many to a place they could actually survive through the next winter - and how to keep the Kellid Warlord from killing himself and his people in a fit of rage or pride.
Unafe groans as she looks over and realizes the witch had grown bored and decided to interrupt this clan-liege.
You couldn't wait for me to assess what has happened to my people, could you?
She considers rushing over to the clan hall but delays for the moment, curious what she can learn from this elder who knows enough to recall the Dau Galon.
The elderly woman smiles at Unafe, though her eyes are unfocused. "Dau Galon... Dau Galon..."
"Peidiwch â meddwl amdani, nid yw Mam-gu yr holl ffordd yma bellach," the young man next to her says apologetically.
"Don't mind her, Grandmama's not all the way here anymore."
At that moment Xanderghul approaches between the two raptors and knocks boldly on the door.
"Why you smart little Southerner bi-" starts one voice behind the door, but he is quickly shushed by the other. They pull the door shut and deliberate, before finally opening the door back up a crack.
"...Archesgobaeth, meddech chi?"
"Archdruid, you say?"
"Hmph. Dirwy. Dewch i mewn."
"Hmph. Fine. Come in. "
The heavy doors open and a pair of Kellid warriors lead them down a long stone entryway. The walls are engraved and painted with scenes depicting beautiful landscapes -- vistas of jungles, swamps, and mighty saurians alongside several proud looking Kellids stand, clad in metal armor, and wielding mostly bows and spears. Two wooden totemic sculptures flank the entryway immediately upon coming through the doors, one depicting a sauropod, the other, a ceratops.
There is a secret door behind the ceratops sculpture.
"Byddwch yn gyflym am eich busnes, mae Marhevok yn ddyn diamynedd," the kellid warrior says as he leads them down the hallway.
"Be quick about your business, Marhevok is an impatient man."
The hallway leads to a communal chamber in which a dozen or so more kellid warriors sit or stand around a simple fire pit in the middle of the room. A few tattered bearskins lie on the floor nearby. To the north slumps an old wooden shelf heaped with weapons, hide armor, and valuables.
No bears lived in the Taranau Valley.
You spot several more Crusader Crosses in that heap of valuables.
The walls are decorated with partially defaced murals depicting kellid men and women engaged in ceremonial battle. As they pass, they come to hear string music growing louder as they follow the Demetae warriors.
Clan-Lieges and their bonded saurians were appointed by their families to rule on the Council (exactly how this worked was left up to the family - many simply appointing the eldest amongst them). However, in the event a Clan-Liege was deemed unfit, another member of the family could denounce them before the council and challenge themselves and their companion to ritualistic combat. This was carried out to submission, and was a fairly rare occurrence in Unafe's lived experience. If the challenger won the fight, the current leader was ousted, but if the challenger lost, they had to submit to any punishment the leader desired.
The bowed lyre, or crwth, is a traditional Sarkorian Kellid instrument.
Bedding litters the floor here, indicating this room was also serving as a living quarters.
This room used to be a waiting room for visitors wishing to gain an audience with a Clan-Liege.
The kellids stare as the heroes pass through - the room leads to another hallway, which curves into an enormous hall. A one-foot high ledge runs around the length of this room, upon which stand columns carved to resemble men and women gazing down into the room in silent judgment. To the southeast, a raised dais supports a fur-covered stone throne, while to the west of this throne sits another large, raised dais. Resting on this dais is an enormous napping stegosaurus.
This large room was once known as the 'Hall of the Ancestors', and was where the Clan-Lieges would gather to govern or arbitrate amongst the many Demetae clans. The murals depict Clan-Lieges now deceased and gone to join the sacred Ancestors, who watch over the Demetae forever.
Sitting on the throne is an enormous, tall muscular kellid with deeply tanned skin, lanky blonde hair, gray eyes, and a curt expression. He doesn't wear any armor except for a loincloth, boots, and arm-wraps. His chest is painted with red lines and dots.
This was a well known trait of the Wintersun Warriors - a dislike of armor.
Next to him is a fair-skinned blonde woman playing the bowed lyre. She wears a headdress made of a raptor's skulls, feathers, and an intricate array of mithral beads and chains.
You recognize the headdress as belonging to Old Aye, though he only wore it for specific ceremonies.
Also in the room are a half-dozen more kellids. The woman stops playing as the kellids approach with the heroes in tow.
The large kellid on the throne stands and cracks his neck. "Well?" he asks, gazing over each of the heroes in turn. "I am Marhevok Two-Fists. Explain the reasoning behind this interruption."
Unafe notices the secret door as they pass, but does nothing to draw attention to it.
When she sees the napping stegosaurus, Unafe looks with interest. Is this one of my true cousins, still alive? Or one of the Corruptions I’ve met thus far?
When Marhevok introduces himself, Unafe nods respectfully to him, and to the woman in Old Aye's headdress as well. Is she a shaman? Old Aye wore that only for ceremony. Did we interrupt some ceremony here, today?
"Clan-Liege, bydded i'r Hynafiaid Cysegredig arwain eich llwybr byth. Rwy'n Unafe Dau Galon a'r gên cain hwn yw fy nghydymaith, Sicrwydd. Gadawaf i'r Archesgob a'i ffrindiau siarad am ei bryderon ei hun ond Demetae ydw i, gan ddychwelyd adref ar ôl can mlynedd.”
She spreads her arms wide, displaying her mithral breastplate and her clan war-kilt with pride.
But what have I really returned to? What I see here is more of a mockery of my home and people. But I know not what horrors they’ve faced in my absence.
Unafe continues, ”Cefais fy mhrentisio i'n siaman gwych Old Aye, yr ydych chi'n gwisgo ei hetress.”
Unafe motions with her head toward the woman playing the lyre.
”Fe wnes i frwydro gyda Snjóbyl Soulhammer, y demonspawn a ymosododd arnom yma, a llwyddo i'w dynnu i ffwrdd ... ond yn y pen draw fe wnaeth fy ngharcharu mewn rhew, a dim ond ychydig ddyddiau yn ôl y cefais i yn rhydd. Nawr rwyf wedi dychwelyd adref, a byddwn yn helpu'r Demetae i adennill ein gogoniant, a dychwelyd i ffyrdd sy'n ymddangos fel pe baent ar goll ... gan gynnwys partneriaeth ag unrhyw sawriaid gwych sy'n weddill, a gwrthod y dylanwad tanbaid yr ymddengys ei fod wedi crebachu ynddo.”
Xander sighs softly at Unafe's naivete. He wants to speak up, to contradict her, but in a negotiation it would be counterproductive. He knows that it's only a matter of time before this group withers and dies of disease. He knows that no true saurians would survive, that only fiendish animals could survive the new cold.
When he speaks up, it is more directly related to the situation. "Clywsom eich bod yn curo pobl sy'n eich cwestiynu. Mae'n wir?"
Isilme eyes the poorly concealed secret door with interest as they pass by it, but follows on, knowing they hadn't the freedom to wander at the moment.
The clan-liege lounging around while his people toil and suffer outside was further confirmation of what she had already concluded: This liege cared not for his people, but only the trappings of power.
Isilme listens to Unafe address the Liege and his cohort with respect and perhaps a bit of naivety--though it could easily be hope that things weren't as they appeared, instead of a lack of awareness. Her eloquent introduction, formalities and all, is quickly overrun by Xanderghul's direct challenge to the Liege's authority. It was, perhaps, a bit too forward for the situation given Unafe was attempting to ascertain what had happened here, but she couldn't fault Xander for pressing him on the poor treatment of the tribespeople.
Given the likely response to a possible loss of face from Xander's statement, however Isilme focuses her attention on Two-fists and his minstrel, gauging their responses to see whether an altercation was likely to begin.
Marhevok and the musician next to him turn and listen to Unafe's tale. The enormous Clan-Liege raises an eyebrow, but he lets her finish her piece. At the end, he bolts upright from his throne, eyes wide.
Marhevok is a total moron and just eating all of Unafe's positive attention up.
The minstrel is tense and on edge.
"Unafe Dau Galon, wedi dychwelyd adref o'r diwedd! Croeso adref, chwaer," he exclaims, and opens his arms wide in welcome.
"Unafe Two-Hearted, returned home at last! Welcome home, sister!"
"Derbyniaf eich bod yn dychwelyd i'r Demetae! LLAWER wedi newid yn ystod y blynyddoedd diwethaf, pobl o'r tu allan yn fudr fel y Deheuwyr hyn hawliad cyfranddaliadau i'n tir tra bod ein pobl ein hunain yn cael eu gadael i wastraffu oherwydd salwch a thlodi. Rwyf wedi ein harwain allan o diroedd y pla i adennill ein cartref haeddiannol."
"I gladly accept your return to the Demetae! MUCH has changed in these past years, foul outsiders, like these Southerners,
stake claim to our land while our own people are left to waste to sickness and poverty. I have lead us out of the plague lands to reclaim our rightful home."
"Fel eich Clan-Liege, felly, fy nhrefn gyntaf i chi yw dienyddio’r Southerners annheilwng hyn yr ydych chi wedi dod â nhw mor ffôl yma. Gan ddechrau gyda'r wrach ddi-baid honno." He points at Xanderghul.
"As your Clan-Liege, then, my first order for you is to execute these unworthy Southerners that you have so foolishly brought here. Starting with that insolent orc."
And with that he sits back in his throne and smiles wide with anticipation of an entertaining spectacle.
Xanderghul's lips press together in a disappointed frown. "I'm going to take that as a yes, then, on the beating," he drones.
His first instinct is to simply kill this fool with a phantasm. He had just threatened all of their lives, after all, and they had some idea that he was a poor Clan-Liege. However, it occurs to him that some of his compatriots might yet be able to avoid violence. He gives them a few moments to sort this out.
Unafe breathes a sigh of relief at her warm welcome...short lived, when Marhevok orders her to kill her companions.
Suddenly she starts to sweat. With a deep frown she says, ”Na na, rhaid i chi beidio â deall. Dyma Archesgob Sarkoris, a dyma ei gymdeithion dibynadwy ... Rwy'n cyfaddef nad wyf yn hollol siŵr eto pam ei fod yn ymddiried yn yr orc insolent, ond rwy'n parchu ei fod yn gwneud hynny.
A dweud y gwir, efallai fy mod i'n gwybod pam, neu o leiaf rydw i'n dysgu. Cymaint o drafferth ag y gall Southerners fod, rwy'n siŵr y gallwn gytuno bod cythreuliaid yn waeth, aye?
Mae'r Deheuwyr hyn wedi ymrwymo i gau'r Clwyf Byd hwn. Rwy'n hoffi meddwl y gallai pŵer a gogoniant y Demetae helpu i wneud i hynny ddigwydd!”
Looking upon the so-called clan-liege of the Demetae, Ehren recognizes the markings on his chest immediately. He then shifts his gaze to the woman at his side, his eyes drawn to her elaborate headdress. If he had to guess, this was the bride-to-be that the soldier outside spoke of. Some inkling of how the Demetae ended up this way comes to the druid, but now was not the time to jump to any conclusions. Despite Marhevok's brutish reputation, he hoped that the man might be swayed by reason.
Or perhaps not, he thinks with a grimace when Unafe is promptly ordered to kill the lot of them. He looks to Unafe again, having faith that she would not obey such a foolish order. When she speaks up in their defense he steps forward, making one last ditch effort to come to a peaceable solution.
"Labhraíonn sí go fírinneach, clan-liege Marhevok. Chuala mé scéalta faoi neart Wintersun agus na Demetae. Tá laochra mar tusa ag teastáil ó Sarkoris. Iarraim ort. Cuir deireadh leis an naimhdeas seo agus tabhair do mhuintir ó dheas, áit a bhfanann beannachtaí na Faiche. Ní féidir leo maireachtáil anseo, ar an talamh galraithe seo, timpeallaithe ag créatúir a bhfuil deamhain iontu. Cuidigh linn na arrachtaigh a ghoid ár dtír dhúchais a scriosadh uainn."
Xander plants his iron staff down and stands his ground, staring straight at the Clan-Liege. This shirtless fool doesn't intimidate him. If it came down to a fight, Xander is sure of his group's superiority. "Nid fi yw eich gelyn, Dau Ddwrn. Mae'n symudiad ffôl i'm bygwth pan mai'r cyfan rydyn ni wedi dod yma i'w wneud yw eich helpu chi. Gwrandewch ar yr Archdderwydd."
Marhevok leans back in his chair and laughs, then abruptly stops. "Fe wnaethoch chi i gyd fy nwyn," he snarls. "Ond rydw i wedi bod yn cosi am ymladd. Beverach! Deffro! Haulygaeaf! Gawn ni weld a ydyn nhw'n werth ein traul," he roars, pulling himself to his feet.
"You all bore me."
"But I've been itching for a fight. Beverach! Awaken! Wintersuns! Let's see if they're worth our while."
Round 1!
1. Wintersuns #13 [26], #5 [25], #9 [21]
2. Isilme [20]
3. Wintersuns #1 [19], #2 [19], #11 [19], #15 [18], #8
4. Valais [17]
5. Wintersun #12 [16], Stegosaurus [16], Wintersuns #3 [15], #4 [15], #10 [15], #14 [14], #6 [14], #7 [14]
6. Unafe [12]
7. Xanderghul [11]
8. Lann [10]
9. Ary [9]
10. Hinagiku [8]
11. Wintersun #16 [7]
12. Ehren [6]
13. Musician [6], Variska [6], Two-Fists [4]
Hearing Marhevok's call, two Wintersun warriors run out from the adjacent room. One locks his axeblade with Variska's bastard sword, while Xanderghul barely flinches out of the way another's whirling axe. Yet another kellid attempts to murder the Archdruid, but Ary intervenes with Faith, the gleaming shield on her left arm, while Hinagiku protectively pulls him forcefully out of harm's way.
Round 1!
Isilme is up!
As Ary passes through the room that the Kellids were using as a bunk, her eyes move from person to person with interest before finally alighting on the Crusader Crosses amongst the collected treasure that the tribe had garnered. Her brow furrows and her eyes narrow. If even one was taken outside of self-defense, it would be one too many. She would need to find a way to ensure that the soldiers made it home. She follows quietly, only glancing back once as they continue forward.
Finding the sleeping dinosaur was interesting, and the songstress in the rear of the room was significantly more interesting than the half-naked man on a makeshift throne, the fact that the building was kept warm enough for such a thing while his people froze was an annoyance.
As the pair of Kellids exchange greetings and Xanderghul brings up his own Ary shifts uncomfortably, almost subconsiously moving between Xanderghul and Unafe.
She's about to respond, but holds her tongue, knowing that Ehren could say anything she was going to much more effectively, and ultimately she's right. The order for their execution draws an audible sigh from Ary and it takes her no time at all to begin guarding her allies.
"Choose quickly, Unafe." Ary says from beside her, not certain of whether to trust the Kellid warrior or not given the situation. Certainly, she knew how any of her friends would react to this situation, but she didn't know anything of the connection between a tribesman and their chief, or what that meant to Unafe. Even still she would move to guard her until her choice had been made.
"Gallaf eich sicrhau, ni fydd pa bynnag eiriau y gellir eu dewis i ddisgrifio'r gwrthgyferbyniad parhaol hwn, ymladd yn un ohonynt," Isilme says as she drifts up towards the ceiling and begins invoking one of her bardic spells. Her rapier flies from her scabbard to her hand swiftly as she climbs, and with only the barest effort on her part, begins to gleam with the arcane energy she imbues it with.
Finally in position above the fray, she unleashes the magic and burst of energy washes over the room, stopping just short of her allies. Those within it feel their sense of the world slip away, leaving them unable to comprehend the events occurring around them except at the most instinctual level.
Rather than charging into the fray, one of the Wintersuns turns and lashes out angrily at the Saurian behind of him, but his strike supernaturally heals over almost as soon as it appears. The stegosaurus bellows angrily. Wintersun warriors continue to crowd into the hall behind the heroes, cutting off their escape, while those already within the grand hall of the longhouse draw their blades and surround them from the front. One enormous Wintersun woman manages to catch Hinagiku unawares, cleaving her axe readily at her shoulder, but only leaving a grazing wound.
Unafe and Valais are up!
Unafe snarls with disgust.
Unafe leaps up, over the heads of the warriors in front of her--transforming in midair, as the ancestor spirits swirl like angry hornets--and lands with an elbow into the pretender's shoulder.
She swings hard for his jaw, and then attempts to grab him around the neck.
Valais and Xanderghul shuffle about, switching places so that neither are threatened by the Wintersun clan warriors but that neither is farther away from their enemies as well. Then Valais draws on her most powerful attack. Instead of a soft glow, or even the repelling glow that keeps foes from drawing closer, she bursts up with powerful light all in one blast. Evil creatures would be scoured clean from the longhouse, while good and neutral creatures would largely be spared.
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Xanderghul shifts back and away from the nearest Wintersun clan warriors. He had no wish to be axed in the face by such unimpressive foes. He also believed that most of these people were probably not villains, and might stand down if Unafe were able to take down Marhevok. Therefore, he ops for nonlethal tactics. It is well that illusions provided a way to harm ones' foes without actually harming them, and Xander had a spell up his sleeve that could disable all of the Wintersun clan warriors at once.
Speaking words of arcane magic and making complex hand gestures, Xander creatures a phantasm in the mind of his enemies, filling their minds with the impression that swarms of tiny spiders covered their bodies, head to toe. In the phantasm, the spiders weave a web of strong silk threads to keep their victims bound.
To everyone else, however, victims would simply seem to start shrieking and convulsing, slapping at their skin to try and dislodge the 'spiders'.
Ary covers Unafe's leap as she roars and careens across the long house to land right at the front of his throne. She comes crashing down on his shoulder, and there is a loud crack as she breaks the bone. She lands, slugging him once across the face that could have fell a tree, but doesn't seem to daze the kellid warlord as much as she would have expected. Marhevok laughs even as his face swells up, locking eyes with his opponent. Unafe doesn't give him a chance to react, pulling her arms around his throat.
At the same time, Valais unleashes a brilliant flash of Heavenly light. Variska grits her teeth as the magic washes over her, irritating her somewhat, but in front of her angry red burns erupt over the clansmen surrounding the heroes, blinding them. They then hear foul arcane words uttered by the orcish witch, and cry out with alarm as they feel sticky webs envelop them and their weapons. They scream out and struggle in place, rather comically to any onlookers, as they feel thousands of tiny legs crawl around under their armor.
At the front of the longhouse, the stegosaurus roars and sinks its long, sharp teeth into the neck of the kellid who dare strike it. Holding it down as he screams, the saurian brings its wickedly spiked tail crashing down on the warrior's head, cracking it open like an egg. Another confused warrior cries out at this sight, and brings his axe crashing down at the saurian's neck, but finds that his weapon can find no purchase through its thick, scaly flesh.
This creature is all wrong - stegosauruses are herbivores, and do not have sharp teeth.
Lann, Ary, and Hinagiku are up!
Just as she did at the gate of the hall, Hinagiku maintains a peaceful detached attitude throughout the discussion with Marhevok, hoping to foster peace. Still, even as the clan-liege demands for Unafe to strike them down, the monk maintains her composure; calm confidence was the wise decision in the face of absurd demands such as killing the Archdruid.
Hinagiku had also hoped that her attitude would make Unafe's choice simpler and more reasoned. And so, Hinagiku is unprepared for the Demetae’s strong emotions and her leaping attack. It is only thanks to calling onto the power of the Ley that Hinagiku is able to react in time to follow her. After deflecting a deadly blow from a Wintersun clanswoman with her hand, Hinagiku rushes through the crowd of Kellids as magic energy and spells suffuse the air and incapacitate most of them.
”Ary, I’ll leave their protection to you.” she simply says, knowing the woman was a better defender than she was and that Xanderghul’s magic would most likely keep the reinforcement from entering the room. What was left was defending Unafe from the giant saurian and perhaps helping her.
Hinagiku climbs the dais, moves in between the saurian and Unafe, and, being next to the musician, she attempts to snatch the instrument away.
Lann could not understand the exchange with the Wintersun clan-liege, but he could tell from the desperation in his friend's voice that things were about to get unpleasant. Sure enough, the "negotiations" deteriorate almost immediately and a dozen or so angry barbarians close in around his friends. The elven half of his mouth grimaces as he dutifully draws his longsword, reluctantly prepared for violence.
Seeing that Ehren is faced with three of the Wintersun warriors, Lann steps beneath Isilme and slashes at the nearest barbarian. He feels a little bad, attacking someone so heavily crippled by his side's magic, but the knowledge that they had tried to kill them without question tempers his resolve.
Ary nods, satisfied with - and grateful for - Unafe's response as she leaps quite literally headlong into battle. Then Hinagiku follows after, that left... all of the casters and Lann within easy reach, and Variska guarding their back.
"Valais, Xander, come through the doors. Variska, keep them covered until you can, too. Limit their mobility." Ary calls over her shoulder as the group of Kellids finish surrounding them. "How many can you see in the hall?" she asks as she takes a step into their front line, and turns to focus her attention on the only foe that could reach the core of their group, all the while making space for her allies to close ranks. She draws Radiance out of its sheathe and widens her stance once more, ready to guard her ally's movements.
Lann's blade slices out against the blind foe in front of him, leaving a deep wound across her mostly bare chest, while Hinagiku springs out from behind of him with inhuman speed, rushing across the battlefield and snatching the lyre out from the woman's hands. At the same time, Ary calls out orders and smashes her shield into the woman in front of her, who lashes out in rage and confusion at her unseen foe.
"There's at least six...no...wait... seven of them!" calls out Variska as kellid warriors continue to pile into the adjacent hall.
Ehren is up!
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Ehren is taken aback by Marhevok's utter lack of regard for diplomacy. Perhaps it was naive of him, but never did he believe that any true believer of the old ways would so foolishly attack the archdruid. It is only with Ary and Hinagiku's timely intervention that he is not hewn by a Wintersun axe. As the battle quickly unfolds and comprehension dawns on him, his mouth twists into a sneer. Had the clan survived for so long, only to meet its end here?
"Ai dyma'r dyfnder y mae llwyth Wintersun wedi suddo iddo? Breuddwydion di-anrhydedd o dan sawdl carennydd?" Ehren asks contemptuously, looking to each of the warriors standing between them and the clan-liege. Not a single one of them hesitated to attack him or his friends. "Yna felly bydd hi!"
After taking a deep breath, the druid expels a great serpent of white flames from his mouth. Moving as though it has a mind of its own, the fire snake twists through the air, consuming several of the hapless Winteruns with its burning maw.
The archdruid's wrath is swift and absolute - fully incinerating the three Wintersuns closest to him, and leaving the two further back with horrific injuries. A line of blackened and charred corpses line the longhall between the heroes and Marhevok.
Meanwhile, up on the raised dais where the warlord reigns, his musician draws a mithral spear that crackles with electricity. She takes a step back, trying to gain some distance on her foe, then jabs deftly past Unafe. Hinagiku gracefully moves out of the spear's way while Unafe tries to draw Marhevok deeper into a chokehold. He laughs insanely, his eyes flaring red as his form grows several feet. Enormous horns like that that of a triceratops jut from his brow and face, and sharp quills cover his shoulders and back. With an inhuman surge of strength, Marhevok manages to wrestle himself from Unafe's grasp one-armed so that he pulls her arm back behind her back, then slams his enormous horns in-between of her shoulder blades, flashing a bloody smile as he goes.
Further to the back, Variska draws her enormous bastard sword in one clean movement, stepping protectively in front of Valais and sweeping her blade against the two closest warriors as she goes.
Round 2!
Isilme is up!
"Ymladd am anrhydedd a dyfodol y Demetae, Unafe y ddau galon!" Isilme calls out to Unafe when she sees the newly enlarged Marhevok turning her grappling against her.
Drifting towards the center of the room, Isilme draws upon her divine powers once again. "Song of Spheres, grant your boon to me. Let your fortune favor those who fight for a righteous cause and hamper those who stand in opposition!" A silvery light gathers at her raised hand before washing over the room, filling the hall briefly, twisting fate to their benefit.
One of the charred, confused Wintersun warriors screams and charges across the room recklessly at Ehren, but slips and falls, dazing herself for a moment. From the rear hallway, several of the kellids wheel from Valais' spell, while even more of their kin push eagerly past them to get to the front of the fray. The newest arrival's nostrils flare as she catches a whiff of the charred corpses just ahead, and her step slows just a tad.
Unafe and Valais are up!
As the Wintersun warrior runs right at Ehren, Lann steps in and finishes her off with a backswing.
Once again, Valais emits light. Her light is softer and more consistent this time. It exerts force on humans this time, keeping them from drawing closer to Valais. She's not a puissant warrior, so she isn't looking forward to standing up against the Wintersun barbarians.
"Hey, fools! Stop attacking!" bellows Xanderghul. "Lay down your weapons and only your Clan-Liege will suffer the consequences!"
He doesn't slow to see their reaction or to look any of them in the eye. Instead, he simply evokes another offensive spell. After witnessing the effects of Valais' light on the barbarians, he knew this one would be just as effective. Without the necessity to move, Xander once again accesses the mathematics present behind all reality in order to enhance the effects of his spell.
(5 x 2) + (5 x 5) - 4
10 + 25 - 4 = 31
A burst of holy light flashes between all of the Wintersun barbarians, searing into their flesh and blinding them.
"Shall we take out Marhevok quickly so that we don't have to kill all of these clansmen?" Xander asks his compatriots.
Unafe gives a nod of thanks to Isilme for her blessings.
She gasps when Marhevok digs his horns into her back, but then grins at him. ”Rydych chi'n dda”, she growls, ”ond daw'ch pŵer o baent budr y tir hwn. Daw fy un i o'r sawriaid eu hunain!”
She spins suddenly, attempting to take back control while digging her triceratops-spiked shoulder pauldron into him. She then attempts to knock his feet out from under him, punching again if the opportunity arrives.
As she again gains control in their fight, she thunders, ”Gwrandewch, frodyr! Gweinwch y dyn hwn sy'n delio â chythreuliaid a byddwch chi'n marw - ond gollyngwch eich breichiau a gallwch chi helpu i adfer y Demetae a Sarkoris i'w gogoniant blaenorol”
Lann cuts down the reckless charging Wintersun warrior before she can even reach the Archdruid behind of him. She falls atop the charred corpse of her kinsman.
Further away from them, Unafe manages to get the upper-hand on Marhevok, digging her spiked pauldrons into his back, but causing herself to come into contact with the spikes protruding from his back and shoulders. Despite being much smaller than her, Marhevok manages to wrest himself free before she can finish wrestling him to the ground. What's done is done, though, and the other Wintersuns recoil with fear when they see Unafe manage to wrestle their leader down. Seeing the Wintersun in front of it turn to charge at the Archdruid who had attempted to immolate him, the demonic stegosaurus roars loudly, its voice causing the room itself to tremble. It spreads enormous, bat-like wings as it starts to emanate pure evil into the room, washing over the heroes in waves. At the same time, the warrior comes screeching to a halt before Ary, squinting into the brilliance of Valais' shining light and taking a step back in trepidation.
'YOU WILL ALL DIE.'
There are two scholarly terms for 'fiend-touched' creatures (non-academic terms used in the area include things like 'corrupted', 'wound-tainted', etc); 'fiendish' and 'half-fiend'.
Fiendish creatures are generally animals, plants, or vermin corrupted by evil, granting them unholy strength, particularly against those with good-aligned souls. Animals and other creatures that naturally live in the Lower (evil) Planes are always Fiendish.
Half-fiends are more deeply corrupted with Evil, and come to possess a sort of malevolent intelligence. Half-fiends can almost always fly, and thanks to their intelligence, are able to cast spells.
'Half-Demon', academically, is only used to refer to actual demon-spawn - direct offspring between a demon and a mortal, though colloquially Crusaders will conflate the three terms all the time. This is because half-demons are specific to the Abyss, and so possess chaotic powers in addition to evil ones, while fiendish and half-fiend creatures are only tainted by evil, and can originate or be caused by Hell or Abaddon.
At the same time, towards the back of the room in the hallway, Valais successfully repels the charging Wintersun clansmen, who raise their arms and squint against the brilliant light, crying out as an even more intense burst radiates out from Xanderghul beside of her. Unable to see, they do not dare to attempt to approach any closer.
Lann, Ary, Hinagiku, and Ehren are up!
Almost the instant the demonic saurian roars, Isilme traces the divine rune for 'harmony' in the air before her, filling the room with a soothing hum, dampening effects of the blasphemy.