[ooc]Survival to skin the dragons?[/ooc}
After murmuring a blessing for the dead to return to the earth from whence they came, Fergal moves over to the bodies of the dragons and pulls out a small, sharp skinning knife. He attempts to carefully remove their skins while treating the bodies with the respect due to all creatures, even the ones that try to eat him.
Sariel, nods toward the funeral remains, and then the two dragons that Fergal had started to skin. "We were attacked by these two creatures, Master Rhoddam. Once we vanquished them we found their last victims."
Nodding toward the gear that the team had gathered up and pulling the signet ring out of his pouch hands it to the ranger. "This is their gear, One of them was wearing this signet ring."
Then smiling and waving over to Avogadro for him to join them, "I didn't recognize the Flaming hawk but Master Avogadroa here said the men were from Mwangi. Have you heard of any travelers from that distant continent here in the woods?"
Fergal is able to skin the dragons. He does his best to pack them in a manner that will preserve them.
The ranger looks over the insignia. "I have not heard of foreigners here and it is not an insignia that is common to me." He gives his respect to the dead and then resumes talking about plans. "We can make the witch's house this evening. Would you prefer to get there tonight or camp and go first thing in the morning? Going tonight might save a few hours."
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Glancing around the group, Arun creases his brow with concern. "I appreciate the need for haste, but I feel we need to pay due attention to what we are attempting. Only one of the six of us can see in darkness, and we speak of approaching a feared local witch in the depths of her forest lair. It seems foolhardy to me to attempt that at night." He looks around for dissent, or support. "Better to arrive back later with the ingredients we seek, than not to arrive at all..."
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Arun turns to Avogadro, keen to distract him from his tall tales of gruesome lands. "Hey Av - I didn't prepare myself this morning for the identification of magical items. Have you any powers in this regard today? I have tried to activate the wand as a test but without success. Perhaps you might have more luck?"
Hey Av, any ideas on this wand?
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Fergal looks around. "I agree with Arun, s'truth. Better to camp for the night and go durin' the day. I don't need to tell a ranger that there are some creatures who prefer to hunt by night that would have the advantage over us. Some of us, includin' myself, are not very sneaky."
The night goes uneventfully. You wake the next morning and head to the witch's house. You see the "army" tracks Rhoddam mentioned the night before. After a few hours, you arrive at the location.
The sounds of the forest become suddenly distant as the trees part, opening into a small, almost perfectly circular glade. The nearest stands of pine, eyln, and darkwood—all typically sturdy woods—twist away from the clearing, as if bent by some impossibly strong wind or seemingly in an attempt to flee despite their paralyzed roots. At the glade’s center squats an ugly cottage, little more than a pile of twigs, shoots, and ivy stacked upon mud walls. From the thatched roof dangle bundles of gnarled roots, old dried beast ca casses, and knucklebone bangles, all clattering together like gruesome wind chimes. A dozen small thatched fetishes—each shaped like a tiny man, imp, or rearing serpent—stand propped in the yard, keeping guard before a rickety plank door.
Standing on the porch, a bent and twisted figure stands cloaked. It cackles as you approach. "About time, I expected you last night. What do you seek from me?"
Jean-Pierre raises an eyebrow.
"You expected this one? Then surely you know why this one is here..."
The witch cackles again. "You are seeking my help. Everyone wants something. You may even find that what you are looking for is not what you really need." She points a bony finger from her cloak in your direction, a long black finger nail extends toward you. "You are strong. I could use some brute force. Maybe we can barter." Her old, raspy voice trails off.
"An' what exactly be ye wantin'? Somethin' tells me that ye aren't lookin' for me skills as a smith when ye be askin' to barter."
[dice=Will]1d20+6
"An' what exactly be ye wantin'? Somethin' tells me that ye aren't lookin' for me skills as a smith when ye be askin' to barter."
She turns to the Dwarf. "I have no need of a smith, but those luscious locks of hair sure are pretty..." She licks her lips under the shadow of her hood with a sickly, green tongue.
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Arun keeps quiet, wary of the unknown powers of this forest-living crone. He eyes the twisted figures in the garden, and watches as the other party members engage the witch in discussion. Are their any signs of the witch's familiar nearby?
Arun watches for any sign that one of the party is falling under the influence of domination or enchantment magic. In particular, he is ary of the tall and burly barbarian being turned against the Group: .
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Have you encountered anyone on your journeys thus far?"[/b]
"None that could be described as an army I am more than happy to proclaim. Just bloodthirsty birds, aquatic hobgoblins and serpentine dragons.
"One does ones best to be expected, no, awaited - eagerly awaited! And wanting what one doesn't know goes both ways. I have a fine raven I can offer you, broken though it is, or perhaps flowers?"
Avogadro lifts his hat and draws a disheveled bouquet from beneath it
"M'lady, I am The Astounding Avogadro and we are here for pickled roots, rat's tails to be at my upmostly specific. We are happy to make fair exchange, tit for tat, this for the tail of a rat. But please do play nice. These men can be terribly efficient in their own peculiar collection of skills, why my green fingered friend here just skinned a pair of dragons."
የሆነ ሰው እኛን ሁሉ በእርግጥ የተሰበረ, ጓጕንቸሮችን ተለውጦ ለማግኘት እየሄደ ነው, እሱን ዘግቶታል!
The White Raven swoops down and snatches thee shoddy flowers, casting them into the mud
Behave!
Sariel helps set up camp, using his iron pot to assist in preparing the meal. He offers to take the morning watch so he could spend his time praying, reading and meditating.
'A witch It probably shouldn't matter but it might help to know.' Sariel cautiously detects alignment on the witch as he lets some of the others speak first, then attempts to figure out if she really would accept hair as payment.
Then taking his turn he bows low. "Madam Ulizmila I am pleased you were expecting to see us last night, it was my desire to travel to you then," He turns for a moment giving a quick looks to Arun and smiles.
Turning back to the witch he continues. "We were told you are an expert in knowing and possessing Esoteric materials. We search for Rat's Tail and are willing to pay a fair price for it."
Looking around the yard, he spreads his hands, 'May I ask if you have some available or know where it is and what the cost may be?"
"Hello, wise one. As my friends have said, we seek your aid, sure enough." Fergal says, and then goes quiet. Better to leave the talkin' to those who are better at it, like Sariel.
She smiles wickedly at Avogrado. "Oh! A fellow arcanist! I like your suggestion. I've not had white raven eyeball soup in some time."
Turning to Sariel, "A handsome one you are. I could use some of your beauty...."
Rhoddam speaks up, "Hush witch! I know of your deals. We should finish you now!" She cackles louder with her head leaned back then reaches in her bag and pulls out a crude poppet, representing what looks like a female doll. It has real coarse black hair, but the rest is made out of burlap and things from nature. She takes one of her long, black nails and places it next to the poppet's neck. "Oh...I didn't see you there master ranger. Let's not take this meeting to violence though. There is no need to cause those you love more pain. We are intelligent and civil people. Look at your friend there..." She points to Avogrado. ...He is just happy to be here." Rhoddam backs down at the sight of the poppet and her words. "Now that's a good lil fellow."
"How about we play a game. I will give you two riddles. You solve them and I will give you your precious rat's tail. Get them wrong and I get a piece of you. A lock of hair...a fingernail...some skin...nothing you can't live without."
"You get two guesses for each as a group. What say you my lil children?"
"This isn't going to be one o' them rigged games, where they be more than one possible answer, is it?" Part of him just wanted to flatten her with his hammer. She seemed evil enough, or at least malevolent. But he was no warrior and lives were hanging in the balance...
"This isn't going to be one o' them rigged games, where they be more than one possible answer, is it?" Part of him just wanted to flatten her with his hammer. She seemed evil enough, or at least malevolent. But he was no warrior and lives were hanging in the balance...
"No. I'll keep my word if you will keep yours. There is only one answer for each. What do I have to lose? Some rat's tail? I have plenty. You on the other hand...all those precious lives. I heard two villagers passed away over night while you rested..."
"your innocence, though most obvious in its strenuous artifice, does not ring Ms Witch. Think not that Avogadro for one misunderstands the power of parts, the minutii of bodily samples that you bargain for, in the twisted hands of one such as yourself. But I shall not waver from your bargain, let us play a while. I will hear and answer your riddles. "
The witch licks her lips again at Avagrado's response. With excitement in her voice, "Yessssss...we have one wise one here. And the rest of you? Do you agree?"
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This is a deal I do not like the sound of. Leaving this creature with influence over us all, into the future? I do not care to leave here a hostage to her whim. If my travels have taught me anything, it is that often, forceful words can avoid painful bargains...
Arun pulls in his powers, and shocks his friends with a side of him they have yet to witness. In a voice dripping with threat, and alloyed with arcane potency, he thunders "Foul hag! You seek too hard a bargain. You seek to toy with the lives of your neighbors? Consider that your miserable life too hangs by a thread, if your inaction means their death! What chance have of you of overcoming the fury, (here he indicates Jean-Pierre), the valour, (Rhoddam and Fergal) the virtue (Sariel and Khaz) and the arcane potency of our band? (Avo and himself) "Consider carefully your next words. We came here not to beg, but to demand. Curb your mischief and help us, crone, or suffer the consequences!"
[dice=WILL Save] 1d20 + 2
To Arun, "Do you not trust your wit?"
Turning to Avogrado, "This one is acting ugly. Do we not have a deal? I just wanted to have a bit of fun."
The image is not real.' Sariel looks from the witch to his new friends. "Avogadro, open your eyes, the image you are speaking too isn't even real." Addressing the direction that he felt the evil come from instead of the illusion. Sariel concurs with Arun. "You want us to trust you and you riddle with the lives of innocent people and you will not trust us with your true appearance. Arun is correct you have gone too far, we will not be your playthings. Come out and deal with us honorably or face the consequences."
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"Crone, I trust my wit. I do not trust you."
Arun steps smartly forward, closer to the old lady. "How can we believe you are willing to bargain with us in good faith," Here he slowly waves his hand through what he firmly believes is the illusion of the old woman, "when you seek to deceive us from the start, especially with such a poor-quality deception?" .
Arun looks around, at the hut, the fields and the nearby woods. With his hands wide, he appeals to whoever or whatever is behind this, "Show yourself! You will find us willing to make a fair bargain in exchange for this small favour we ask. But let us start from a position of honesty!"
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"Aye! What the paladin said! Err, right?"
Jean-Pierre frowns at the comments of several of his party's members.
"What are you talking about? Do you not see the hag standing in the doorway, that this one can see...?"
With Sariel's words, you all start to realize the Witch is an illusion. "You blame me for hiding and presenting an image. Listen to yourselves. You threaten me even now. You...big strong men with your weapons. All I wanted was to have some fun...play a game! You blame me for the trouble in Falcon's Hollow? Were you not the ones who slumbered while villagers died last night?!" She no longer has a tone of confidence in her voice. "Your precious rat's tail is inside on the table. This will not be the last you hear from me!"
At that, the image disappears. You hear leaves crunching about 40' to the right of the cabin, but see no one.
The inside of the cottage is dank, reeking and filled with shadows. Haphazardly hung shelves line the walls, covered in all manner of clay jugs, clouded bottles, strangely cut rocks, rotted bunches of herbs, and a museum of other crude curios and remnants of a bone grinder’s artice. A rusted iron cauldron, with a mouth nearly 5 feet wide and a depth of at least 3 feet, dominates the hut’s single room, its ash-covered surface shaped with a relief of capering ends and leering devils. Across from the door, against the far walls, stands a highbacked chair made of wicker, the gigantic curved tusks of some monstrous beast, and thousands of human teeth. In the chair sits what looks like a corpse wrapped in lthy burial linens, its form padded with pungent herbs and sprouting patches of thick white mold. This ominous shape is actually only a bundle of branches, mud, and linen, left by Ulizmila to distract trespassers from her home.
You see the rat's tail laid out on the counter as if she expected you. Lying around, you also see about 30 gold of coins, a shiny black wand, and a ring. Nothing else looks of value in the hut.
Jean-Pierre eyes the objects on the table dubiously.
"This one suggests just grabbing the rat's tail, and getting out of here. There is no need to antagonize the witch more than is necessary..."
He then carefully collects the rat's tail, and moves on with alacrity.
'We wanted a fair trade no less no more.' Sariel follows Jean-Pierre into the house, nodding his head in agreement. "I will not take more than the rat's tail, and I will pay for it." He then takes out the last of his gold, all ten pieces and lays them on the table. "Let us leave this place."
Going to Fergal as they leave he asks. "Fergal, I know you have retrieved the hide of the dragons, would you consider leaving one as payment to the witch. It is not my desire to steal from her or for her to think we are unfair."
Going to the guide he asks, "Rhoddam could you quickly lead us from this place?"
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Arun peers in from the doorway in curiousity. Catching sight of the wand on the table triggers first a covetous thought, then guilt at the impulse to loot the witch's belongings. Ever the Paladin acts to remind us of our morals he sighs. He leaves it there on the table, but not before Identifying it first. There's no harm in knowing what she may be using against us in the future...
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"Attempting to ascertain the properties of a magic item takes 3 rounds per item to be identified and you must be able to thoroughly examine the object."
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"Aye, we aren't thieves. Take what we need, an' good on ye lass for payin' for it. Glad to see I fell in with the right crowd."
Khaz pulls out three gold pieces and puts it on the table, as his contribution for the rat tail.
"Agreed, and good idea, Sariel." Fergal leaves one of the skins on the table before backing out.
Jean-Pierre nudges Khaz, and stage-whispers:
"This one notes that the Dwarf appears to be confused... Sariel is a lad, not a lass... unless that word means something different in Dwarven culture?"
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Jean-Pierre nudges Khaz, and stage-whispers:
"This one notes that the Dwarf appears to be confused... Sariel is a lad, not a lass... unless that word means something different in Dwarven culture?"
"Jean-Pierre, he thinks both you and Sariel are 'lasses'. You're the only two in the group without beards..."
Khaz nodded at Arun. "The smith has it right. Really nay used to seein' men without beards. Force o' habit when seein' a clean chin. I'll watch me tongue now that I be in human lands."
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Jean-Pierre chews his lip thoughtfully for a moment, before replying.
"This one is having difficulty processing that statement... he has been led to believe that proffering the evidence that would definitively disprove that he is a lass is not appropriate behaviour in public."
With a resigned sigh, he continues on his way.
Khaz looks at Arun in confusion. "Did he jus' say? Well, let's go. Do me a favor. Tell me a bit about humans as we go. Goin' to be mighty hard to bring the word o' Torag iffin I keep offendin' people as I go."
Jean-Pierre shrugs.
"In the hot, moist, entangling jungles of this one's homeland, extraneous hair is generally considered to be a liability. It also cuts down on one's streamlined shape, increasing the energy required when swimming."
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Arun stiffles a snigger. "Khaz, I strongly recommend that you not ask Jean Pierre about his hot, moist, entangling jungles. You may get more of an insight into human difference that you'd like..."
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Jean-Pierre gives Arun a confused look.
"There is nothing inherently wrong with the Expanse. Certainly, it has many dangers, but if you know what you are doing, and treat the land with respect, it can provide you with a not uncomfortable existence..."
"I would once more council the up-most discretion crone. These companions of mine are not to be trifled with"
Avogadro walks through the hut like a man in a minefield, careful not to touch anything.
Fairness?! Ugh they're those type of people... all that gold! Way more than the poxy mushroom is worth! And the skin!
Exasperated, Avogadro ducks out of the cottage and cusses as he bangs his head on the lintel knocking his hat off in flutter of white feathers. He waits for the others outside.
"Beards are optional in humans my dwarven explorer. Many consider them to be a sign of unhealth, sloth or indeed mental unbalance itself. But I can tell you that on the contrary a face of hair, coiffured to its finest state is an emblem of vitality, vivality, and greatness itself."
Avogadro runs his fingers throuogh his own beard as he finishes, as if the matter was settled.
As the tall hat tumbles the Raven swoops from beneath it flapping around the room clumsily before heading for the doorway and finally taking a perch on a high branch.