No, the man in amber is neither animate or recognizable.
The ghoul looks at Beldan and smiles, but it's too eerie to be comforting. Too many canine teeth in that mouth.
Beldan hurries away from the ghoul, being careful of the long step down in the next chamber.
Naah, no jump check, unless you've just recently bullrushed through this door. It's just kinda a scary step over to the floor.
He's up there....he's two heads taller than the one next to him, and he doesn't crouch like 'Speaker. He has a great gold necklace, and wears a leather surcoat and kilt. He has a greatsword across his back, as well as a spear. He's older looking, and his scars are innumerable.
He growls, 'Speaker translates.
"I speak for Threehorn. He welcomes you to his fire and parley in peace. Will you join us? We've cooked a....boar..."
"We would be honoured to share a meal with Threehorn and his packmates." Altai sits down, keeping a respectful distance to the big catman. "Mind your manners, you", he mutters to the ghoul.
Greater mage armor--1hr/level, +6, Complete Arcane.
The group heads out onto the floor.
Threehorn's fur puffs up for a second seeing so many predators, then he relaxes.
He grunts out some words.
'Speaker asks, "Threehorn asks which of you killed the....Amber?"
also, if Riese is still in lizardman form;
spoiler for everybody; I think Riese is still in lizardman form...
"You mean 'Tache Man? Me kill him - was easy!" Gittik puffs out his chest boastfully.
'Speaker translates to Threehorn.
Threehorn's head cocks back for an instant, surprisedly.
then he and the other pantherman converse growlingly.
"Uh,...very well then...." says 'Speaker. "Threehorn invites you all below to the camp."
bluff r5
The um profanity filtered part was the word for a rooster that starts with c.....
So his head roosters back I guess.
Four letters.....it has a dual meaning I reckon.
Kinda like Private Dick.
Which I guess you can say...
"He's hiding something", Altai mutters to Stig. "Stay alert."
He turns back to the hunched catman. "So, Speaker... What happens down at the camp?"
It's an easy take ten climb down the vines to the alcove.
There's a total of twelve panthermen, all warriors except for one wizened elder who is slicing off chunks of boar from the cooking fire.
'Speaker: "Are you all Baldapes that eat flesh? We have no grass, though all the Baldapes I've met ever would eat flesh.
I heard that the first Baldape, Barbarossa, that came to our land from far away, he had a mage that would eat only grassfoods.
Though the Baldapes from our land would eat flesh, though they would eat food of grass as well."
"He's hiding something", Altai mutters to Stig. "Stay alert."
He turns back to the hunched catman. "So, Speaker... What happens down at the camp?"
"We eat, and can parley. Nothing bad at camp. Threehorn would NOT go back on an honorable offer of fire and guesting. It would be....
unheroic."Yeah; duuuh...sense motive...
"He's hiding something", Altai mutters to Stig. "Stay alert."
Mwahahahahaaa!!!
"We eat, and can parley. Nothing bad at camp. Threehorn would NOT go back on an honorable offer of fire and guesting. It would be....
unheroic."Yeah; duuuh...sense motive...
"Is that so, Speaker?" Altai starts looking through his scroll case.
"Yes; his offer is fair and true."
He was hiding something; i.e. what the Threehorn and his buddy were saying, isn't exactly what the translator imparted in that particular instance.
The offer is fair, though, that he just said; no sense of nervousness or "thinking fast" is evident in tone or body language.
Altai pulls out a particularly tattered piece of vellum. He rapidly reads through it, murmurs a few odd words and then leans slightly forward, touching the catman emissary. "I didn't quite catch the full extent of Threehorn's invitation, I'm afraid. Could you ask him to repeat it, please. And why would he think he" - Altai nods at Riese - "is an Orcus-worshipper?"
The invitation was what he said it was.
You can't tell if he repeats it verbatim.
The earlier convo, where Gittik claimed his kill and they commented on it; that was a different statement...
bump...
"In that case, we will be happy to accept Chief Threehorn's offer of food and hospitality." Altai falls in with the speaker, making smalltalk. "So, which Amber does your group work for?"
"We work for Ricard. He searches for something. He had us scratch and bite him, because he thought it might turn him into a cat. It was odd....there are those that can turn into the sicklefoot birds, and other birds, and I think he thought we were wearshapes. But this is our form, we do not....become this.
So he searches, and he pillages, and he wishes to become a panther."
They lead you down the climbing vines, and the wizened one in the feathery robe hands you each pieces from the boar bundled in large leaves.
You can see, in the dark recesses of the cozy cavelike room, past the bundles of sleeping skins, a large set of metal double doors, it's brassy fixtures and runes glistening in the firelight.
Threehorn:
"Shaman!"
he speaks to the wizened elder.
"These Baldapes killed the Fightring Amber. The small one, the one that looks like a Baldape cub, said he took his head.
Could that be true?"
The shaman speaks: "HE is a different breed of Baldape than the taller ones. He's an adult. They're not as strong as us or the bigger Baldapes, but they're quick as one of the Herokind. The Baldape Barbarossa had some on his oceantree. They can fight like a Hero, some of them.
It's possible."
"Heh heh... The big fellow thinks Gittik is a baby human..."
Trihorn: "Hey, Grasseater....ask them how they got here. What they are doing here. I'm not entirely sure about these Baldapes."
'Speaker "Trihorn wonders from whence you all came, and what you are doing here in this Big House."
"We hail from... somewhere else, a different world. While chasing the hobgoblin leader Jag-Doom, we walked through a strange door and wound up in Amber's fighting arena." Altai shrugs his shoulders. "I know that sounds rather silly, but it is true."
'Speaker, to Threehorn:
"They came through a hole in the air as we did."
Threehorn says "hmmmm...." and looks like he's considering something.
One of the others speaks up: "Clubtail will fight the cub Baldape. Clubtail can take him, then we'll know if they are powerful or not."
Threehorn: "No, Clubtail. Do not dishonor me. I offered them fire."
Clubtail: "They are Baldapes. We can trick their kind."
Threehorn: "I will take your throat, Clubtail. If you win, I will take your throat. If you lose, your name will be Killed by a Puppy."
They all make hissing sounds at that proclamation. It is their laughter, though it sounds more like disdain than the camaraderie of mirth inherent in human laughter.
Clubtail stares at Gittik.
Threehorn: "They can rest here, then go kill Jag Doom. Tell them that, you grasseating Calf."
Speaker does.
"Um... The young buck wants a piece of Gittik, some crap about testing his strength, I guess. The boss is having none of it, and he sounds happy about us capping Jag-Doom. I guess we're safe for tonight."
Altai turns to the speaker. "So, do you guys know Jag-Doom? And what kind of work do you do for Ricard? If it is annoying, perhaps we could help you escape from this odd world."
'Speaker responds, first talking to Threehorn.
"Threehorn is oathbound to Ricard, so he won't go back on that until we're all dead, or Ricard releases us. But, yeah; we wouldn't be saddened by Jag Doom's fall. We make battle for Ricard, at his whim. We travel through doors, here and there. He searches and searches to find a way to become a cat. And we do battle.
It's not so bad, I guess."
“Oh well, at least they’re not were-things,” says Beldan. He’s fidgety and nervous around these creatures, and seems torn between staying near Altai, who seems to have built up some sort of rapport with them; and actually staying away from the wizard for whatever reason.
“So, wait, I’m confused … didn’t Stiggy already kill Jag Doom? … Oh, that one was a clone? Oh … why doesn’t anyone ever tell me these things?” Probably someone did, Beldan just wasn’t listening at the time. “So … do we know for sure that the next Jag Doom we face won’t be a clone too?”
"A cloon? Lahk et the circus?"
"The Amber guy told me how it works - you essentially cut off a little piece of whatever you want cloned and put it in a vat, and it grows out as a copy of the original creature. So, in short, we can't know if the next Jag-Doom we kill is the real one or just a copy, as they are identical. Actually, that was what Mr. Moustache was doing, building an army of doom-clones. What we need to do is to is to destroy the cloning machinery. And then kill everything that looks like Jag-Doom. It'll be messy."
"A cloon? Lahk et the circus?"
“Oh no Stigwold, nothing that scary,” answers Beldan with confidence. “A clone is when you make an exact duplicate of yourself out of clay and bits of dead bodies, then you spill some of your blood and … um, your man-junk over it, and it comes to life and tries to kill you and sleep with your wife.” He pauses and looks thoughtful. “Probably because of the man-junk thing.”
"Could be. It does make just as much sense as the 'army of doom' thing."
“Oh well, at least they’re not were-things,” says Beldan. He’s fidgety and nervous around these creatures, and seems torn between staying near Altai, who seems to have built up some sort of rapport with them; and actually staying away from the wizard for whatever reason.
“So, wait, I’m confused … didn’t Stiggy already kill Jag Doom? … Oh, that one was a clone? Oh … why doesn’t anyone ever tell me these things?” Probably someone did, Beldan just wasn’t listening at the time. “So … do we know for sure that the next Jag Doom we face won’t be a clone too?”
Some of them seem to be staring at you. Your nervousness seems to be attracting their attention. Then, they look at Threehorn, whose stare seems to scold them back from whatever they were about.
The feasting goes on.
Trihorn asks questions, continuing to feel the party out. You have a feeling you are stalked by a hunting beast in a jungle of questions, but it is a hesitant tiger that stalks an elephant perhaps.
Or in Riese's case a dragon.
Altai hears them speak of his Raaaazaaa again and again. Whatever it is, they notice he has a big one, and it perplexes them. Gittik seems to have something as well. Then the shaman proposes to test Gittik's....insubstantial something....and Threehorn asks if it is wise.
The shaman asks Threehorn if the flowing of a river is wise or foolish, because that is simply what rivers do, and he must contemplate this to see the way, whatever that means.
The shaman pours a pungent milky clumpy liquid from a gourd into a big big dented metal bowl, and seethes it. Magic jumps from the liquid as he pours powdered this and that into the broth. Electric sparks, or embers of magic jump.
Threehorn asks, again, "is it wise to give the Apecub the Hero's Milk?"
The shaman hacks, and chortles, and actually produces a hairball as his only response. The catmen all look on enrapt in his brewings.
Then the shaman speaks to 'Speaker: "tell the Cub-sized hero Baldape that he is invited to drink the Hero's Milk. I want to see what he does."
'Speaker: "Gittik; the shaman has brewed Hero's Milk, a gift to us from the Old Mountain Gods. Only the battlehard are allowed it. I have never drank it myself...it is a great honor."
Gittik feels all the eyes of the catmen on him at once; their hair bristling in some anticipation.