Pip follows along, strumming Lucille
"Old Leng, Old Leng
Big plane of dreams
But every thing in Old Leng
ain't all that it seemsToo much
Too many secrets
Too much..."
And amongst the tents, the tune is taken up by an......oboe(?) or three, and drums, and tambourines.
Pip feels wary as his unexpected accompaniment sets in
"Shall we folks?"
Emrael shrugs and nods. She has put her bow away, but her hands do not stray far from the new katana.
You go down amongst the tents. There's a nice fire going, and although the flames are green, it is nonetheless warming and welcome.
The Zhoats look like goats, with wooly pelts; closer scrutiny betrays that the wool is really thin tentacles.
The rams have multiple curling horns.
There's many of the men; about 20 or so; they mostly ignore you, going about their business.
The guy you were talking to says,
"Vinya!"
a woman comes over; shows her face.........lovely. Human.
Eyes of amethyst.
"See that these men are fed, and entertained."
She nods, and without a word, goes off to see to the victuals.
"So," he says; "what land hail ye from? What do you in Leng?"
Welcome to Leng......
Huzzah!
Vinya and another lady, this one looks elvish except for the antennae.....bring a tray of steaming wine, and another tray of mocha.
The talker takes a mug of wine. He pulls out a metal straw, to drink it through his veils.
"Calamari goat. Who woulda thought?" Altai scratches his head as he contemplates the zhoats. "I'd say this calls for a drink."
Pip bows to their host
"We originally hail from a small world called Greyhawk, but we have been traveling the higher planes of existence for some time now. We seek a companion who was separated from us during a battle. We had been told he might have ended up in Leng. Have you seen any strangers lately?"
Pip keeps up his strumming as he talks
Perform (for Diplomacy)
"Calamari goat. Who woulda thought?" Altai scratches his head as he contemplates the zhoats. "I'd say this calls for a drink."
He hands the wizard some mulled wine. It's sublime.
Pip bows to their host
"We originally hail from a small world called Greyhawk, but we have been traveling the higher planes of existence for some time now. We seek a companion who was separated from us during a battle. We had been told he might have ended up in Leng. Have you seen any strangers lately?"
Pip keeps up his strumming as he talks
Perform (for Diplomacy) 1d20+37
The Leng man seems helpful.
"Yes. But I doubt they are friends of yours.
Cruel, elfin women. They stayed with us, a few days back.
What does your companion look like? How was he separated?"
"Cruel, elven women? Why do you describe them so? Did they say what they were doing in Leng?" Emrael accepts some of the mulled wine if offered, but only inhales when she holds it to her lips, not actually drinking any. She continues to 'sip' in this fashion until she's convinced that it's safe to imbibe - either because the wizard says as much or because he shows no ill effects.
"They were seeking something. Something they wouldn't specify. Hunters. Seekers.
They were cruel indeed,......they asked to be allowed to torture some zhoats. Wicked, wicked things."
The elven woman shakes her head and looks into the distance for a moment. "Can you describe these women?"
With a start, she adds, "Forgive me - you asked a question. Our friend was magically transported from the midst of the battle. One moment he was there, the next moment he was gone, along with his captors. We do not know why. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe they simply were trying to take anyone they could and he was the one they got their hands on. Maybe they specifically wanted him." She shrugs, "We don't know yet."
"Huh. Was your friend taken by nightgaunts? They oft serve the God Nodens; their ways are inscrutable, as are his."
"Aaaah. Yessssssss. I can describe them. They were lovely to behold; hair the color of purest virgin snow; eyes like dusky opals;.....and skin as black as night.
Their voices were like diamonds on glass, and they carried many sharp weapons and wore mithral chain."
"Drow..." Dok finally breaks his silence from about 10 feet away from the fire. "Cruel, pitiless, evil they are. How many?"
"There were sixteen of them. But, two of their number dueled that night, and then there were fifteen. The winner took three of the loser's servants as her own. And killed one of them.
Then, two of the winner's servants killed one of the loser's servants.
thirteen.
AND,.....in the morning of their stay with us, two were gone, and one was dead in her sleep.
So, I think maybe 10-12.
They were a mess, my friend."
He chortles.
"They did have some interesting mushrooms, though."
At this most unexpected of statements, Elgan can't help himself. he bursts out laughing.
"Ah'll jes' bet dey did." He chortles, his brogue barely understandable through his laughter. He wipes away a tear of mirth.
"Yaw, ah wuz hopin' dat dey wuz jes' stories used teh frighten small elves inteh behavin. But wit' all ah've seen lately, it don' sorprise me nun teh find out deys real. And if deys HALF as bad as deh sturies go, den yeah, deys a mess allraight."
"But dey ain't deh wuns what took Beldin." He adds soberly.
Emrael nods somberly. To both statements.
Huzzzah!
At this most unexpected of statements, Elgan can't help himself. he bursts out laughing.
"Ah'll jes' bet dey did." He chortles, his brogue barely understandable through his laughter. He wipes away a tear of mirth.
"Yaw, ah wuz hopin' dat dey wuz jes' stories used teh frighten small elves inteh behavin. But wit' all ah've seen lately, it don' sorprise me nun teh find out deys real. And if deys HALF as bad as deh sturies go, den yeah, deys a mess allraight."
"But dey ain't deh wuns what took Beldin." He adds soberly.
"Who or what did take your friend?" he asks.
"Was it the Harlot?"
at the mention of this all the other men look up, suddenly intent on the conversation.
Any musical accompaniment stops.
"Don't. Don't say that name," another veiled figure mutters.
Another veiled guy goes up to Claw.
"HE'S MAGNIFICENT!!! HOW MUCH DO YOU WANT FOR HIM?"
He pulls out a pouch, filled to the brim with rubies as big as d20's.
"I have valuable lucre. And servants, if you wish....."
It's allready.....twilight; whatever passes for sun starts to set.
The moon gets really bright; it's just too big, really.
It feels like the moon is watching you.
"I built him myself, and he's not for sale. If nothing else, he has sentimental value."
"As for the abductors, they were primarily web-wrapped mummy-like creatures and men with butterfly wings and insectile faces. An odd bunch. Does that sound like the kind of crowd that runs with, ah, the Loose Woman you just mentioned?"
"No. Not at all. That sounds like mothmen.
The Harlot works alone, or with succubi.
They usually are...tangentially involved....with Nyarlathotep's games.
The way vultures follow wolves."
Huzzzah!!!!!!>!
Huzzzzzahrrr!!!!!
Nitey nite!
MWAHAHAHAHAAAAA!!!!!
Huzzah!!!!!!
Huzzzzzzah!!!
Merry Xmas!
Huzzzah!!!
Huzzzahr!
"So... Do your gods actually walk among you, then? That must get rather... tiresome."
"Heh heh heh,.......they live up there;"
He points north.
"Kadath. In a great castle.
Nyarlathotep is their master. He comes down; he comes to your world too.
So, it does get interesting.
Your world's gods will start noticing you soon. I have senses that normal members of your species could not comprehend. Things you probably can with your magic.
So, I can tell that you can take out half the mountainside with your powers. I can.....see it.
They will notice you, soon enough."
"So, what do these mothmen want with our companion? Are they slavers, perhaps? Or does Nyarlathotep demand blood sacrifice?"
"Nyarlathotep doesn't......demand sacrifice, but I think it maybe entertains him.
He seems to enjoy chaos.......mayhem,......games within games.
And, I'll freely admit, that the mind of the mothmen makes absolutely no sense to anybody.
They're pretty bizarre characters."
"So, where are you guys hunting these mothmen?"
"Don't buy bacon from a tcho tcho.
And,.....if you hear 'tekeli LI! tekeli LIIIII!,' I don't care how much of a mountain you can level. That's your queue to run."
"What does that cue mean? Is it words in a language or the call of an animal?"
"I don't know; it is the babbling of the shoggoth.
Not sure what it means, other than it is time to run."
"And what or who is a shoggoth?"
"Long ago, even by elven reckoning.....they were a servitor slave race of.....ooze beings. They rebelled against their masters.
They are very powerful."
"Sooner fight a 6 armed marilith than a shoggoth, my dear."
"Dey Don sound' frenlee. Ah, rather t'inks ah wuud takes mah chances wit' deh meridith." Elgan agrees sagely.
"Whut's a meridith?" He asks Altai in a stage whisper.