"Ye... Ye filthy swine lovin'....bastard." The dwarf grunts as the blade pierces his arm. He breathes in deep gasps now, as his numerous wounds are obviously beginning to take their toll.
Hefting his hammer high, the dwarf takes a swing at the goblin who stabbed him in the shoulder. Catching it in the chest, the creature exhales sharply as the wind is driven from it's lungs. It still stands however, and it's expression has changed from one of sinister mirth to one of deadly anger.
The glowing goblin package lights up the scene before Tyrek just in time for him to see a goblin's face collapse. Heh. The illuskan saunters up to Griff and raises his eyebrows at the half-orc's injury. "... you let it hit you. Amateur..."
With a shrug and a grin, Tyrek drops the goblin-light unceremoniously on the ground and channels healing warmth into Griff, mending his wound.
That taken care of, Tyrek takes up his fancy flashlight again and searches the room with Griff.
Griff spits on the corpse crumpled at his feet. He's mumbling something about "lucky little bastard" and "exterminate the lot of 'em" when Tyrek swaggers up. He rolls his eyes at Tyrek's joke before letting out a chuckle himself. "I know, I know. Gotta be more careful. Although we can't all just sit back and let others do the fightin', ye know!"
Happy at his witty (for him) comeback, he thanks Tyrek and idly rubs at his new scar, which is itching from the healing magic, and glances around the room. "Looks like the tunnel the little rats used to get in here is gone, we might as well head back up. You got his stuff? Good, some of that'll probably be useful.
"I'm sure the others have the rest of the goblin problem under control, so we should probably head back to the tavern to meet them. Wouldn't want to get lost looking for them, especially since they're probably already waiting for us back there." Griff nods confidently at his impeccable logic, certain he'd hidden the fact that he just wants a drink.
The illuskan smirks at Griff's comeback, though he does absently pull his sleeves down over his burn-scarred hands in response. Tyrek raises an eyebrow at the crumpled goblin on the ground. "I guess we can't question that one. Neither of us been very good at leavin' stuff alive. Ah, well... still got this guy at least." With that, he hefts his shiny goblight and gestures for Griff to lead the way up top.
On the trek out of the warehouse, the illuskan frowns to himself. Tyrek was never the one to get in the way of Griff finding a drink. That said... "Griff... the tavern is the last place I wanna go. I spent way too long couped up in there. I think I really might light it on fire this time. Maybe they found trouble and need our help?" he asks with a hopeful expression on his face.
The big half-orc frowns down at his fiery friend. Sigh. "Alright. Let's go find the others. I remember hearing that these tunnels down here were dug out by smugglers and the like years ago, but they were caved in by Lord Ulbrec a while back. The goblins dug some of 'em out to get into town, but the tunnels collapsed behind 'em just before we came down here. Never were great engineers, goblins. Anyway, the only way to go is back where we came, so let's see if we can follow the others' tracks in the snow to see where they went."
Tyrek nods thankfully at Griff and follows along, absolutely no help despite the snow. "I don't know how you can think, it's so damn cold out here."
Tuva moves up to provide guidance for her dwarf ally, in hopes that he will be able to finish off the goblin that he's fighting.
Khasos will make his way over to Jorun, though attempt to keep himself out of the way of any enemy attacks. He will cast a spell to heal the damaged warrior.
Nilah channels her inner arcane talent, as a faint golden light shimmers along the edge of her blade. Her blade moves blindingly fast, slipping easily underneath the goblin's meager defenses to slash neatly across its throat. The creature drops its weapon, eyes pleading for help as it clutches the gushing wound. With a gurgle, it breathes its last...
At the same time the dwarf strikes his own opponent with renewed vigor, the magical aid from Khasos and Tuva raising his spirits. His hammer crushes down on goblin skull, felling the creature gruesomely.
Moments later Tyrek and Griff arrive, panting heavily.
"Dirty little bastards..." spits the dwarf, eyeing off the goblin corpses before raising his eyes to assess you all.
"I s'pose I be owing ye thanks. I heard this lot from inside my house there, thought it might be a bunch o' drunkards relievin' themselves on my boat here *again*!" he says, his gaze pausing on Griff momentarily.
Griff smiles innocently. "Well that wouldn't be so bad, would it? Boats are waterproof, after all." Have I ever come this far to take a leak? Doubt it, but not impossible. I've had some pretty entertaining nights. I think.
He quietly shuffles to the back of the group, trying to avoid the dwarf's gaze.
Khasos beams at his newly returned companions.
”It seems that you were successful! Well done, my friends.”
Khasos then turns to Jorun, noddinng towards the Goblin that the Dwarf had brought low.
”From where I’m standing, we can merely call it aiding our allies. Well met! I am Khasos. Perhaps now that we’re apparently out of immediate danger, we could speak to Chiglet to determine why this attack took place.”
"Aye, well I can tell ye now that ye're the strangest lookin' bunch 'o misfits I've ever had the privilege of callin' me allies! Ha!"
Chortles the Dwarf as he looks you all over.
"Me name's Jorun, and I owe ye a great debt. I'm not to proud to say that these greenskins woulda got the best of me had ye not arrived when you did. I see ye caught one there, if it were up to me I'd put a blade into its guts! But, if ye wish to make conversation with the bastard you're welcome to use my woodworkin' shed to get out of the cold. IF any of ye'd rather join me for a whiskey ye're more'n welcome. I've got a splitting headache, and nothing soothes a sore noggin like Jorun's good ol' firewater!"
Jorun's posture and body language show that he respects your choice to interrogate the goblin, but you can tell that he'll not accept one into his home.
"I think, my friend, if it's all right with you, we'll go with one and then the other. We'll get what we can from him and then turn him over to the guard...and after all this, I certainly wouldn't say no to a drink, eh?"
With that, Khasos will move with Chiglet to the shed, welcoming any of his companions who wish to join him.
Despite the combat, Khasos will treat Chiglet remarkably gently. In many ways, Khasos thinks that the two of them are probably not all that different.
Khasos pauses, thinking for a moment.
"I'm one of the lucky ones, you see. I look enough like them that they think, just maybe, I might be a person. But often times they look at you, or full-blood Orcs...well, I can understand why you choose a life of violence.
But you don't have to.
Like I said, I don't know you. You may hate the pinkskins. You may love mayhem and burning and violence and wish nothing but that upon the world. And if that's the case, I'm sorry to say that your life will soon end, either by the noose or by the headsman's axe.
But, it doesn't have to.
Talk to me. Tell me what brought you here, why your leader was attacking the town. Help me understand, and maybe prevent such things from happening again. If you do, I swear to you I will do what I can for you. I will talk to the guard-captain personally, and do all within my power to bargain for your life. You can have a second chance. You can be better. Just talk to me and let me help you, and I will show you that as certain as I am breathing, the Lady of the Moon can shine her grace upon you and help you towards a brighter future."
Tyrek grins as he reaches the others in confident fashion. "Griff took out the goblin and his dog under the warehouse. Unfortunately, we... ah... couldn't capture it alive." Tyrek's smirk makes it clear that he's not too upset.
The goblin, Chiglet is bound in rope in the illuskan's hands and glowing like a torch. At Khasos' urging, Tyrek is gentle with the goblin as he goes with them to the shed. He keeps quiet about uh... dropping him earlier. Yeah, nobody needs to know about that.
Griff visibly perks up at the mention of whiskey. "That's the best idea I've heard all day! I ain't got nothin' against a drop er two o' the good stuff if it's on offer!"
As he steps up to follow Jorun into his home, he gives the bound goblin one last menacing glare. "Ye better tell my friends here what they want to know, or you'll find I have much less patience than they do. If I have to leave the comfort of a glass of whiskey to come help them get answers, you won't like what happens." He holds up one big fist in front of the goblin's face and then turns around, having already forgotten him in anticipation of having a drink.
Griff grins at Nilah. "Don't worry, he might not understand common, but I'm sure he understands tone of voice. He's like a very ugly dog." He looks back at the goblin. "A VERY ugly dog." He falls into step beside her as they follow the dwarf toward the whiskey.
"Ha, that's the spirit! Nothing like a stiff drink after spilling goblin blood!" exclaims Jorun as he leads Nilah and Griff toward his small wooden cabin.
"Suit yerselves, then. Yer welcome ta join when you're done chin-wagging with the greenskin." he says as Tyrek and Khasos head over into the woodworking shed.
Inside his home, Jorun proceeds to go off on a tangent about 'aged' whiskeys, claiming that none of the younger races even know how to age spirits and that only Dwarves know the true secrets to unlocking the taste hidden in a fine whiskey. As he uncorks a plain bottle made of green glass, an overwhelmingly smoky smell with a hint of raspberry fills the room. This is going to be a potent nightcap...
You manage to convey a sense of calm, almost gentle intentions when speaking to Chiglet. No small feat, as the harsh and guttural language has few words to imply such concepts. Chiglet stops flexing his jaw, looking at you with an expression of awe.
"You... you waaay nicer than Vghotan! You don't even kick Chiglet yet! he exclaims with a broad grin.
"You really help Chiglet not get killed by the pinkskin axeman? Chiglet help you! Chiglet really good helper! Best cooker in the Mokrul clan, I can give best recipes! What you want to know? Please don't ask about the masters though, they scary! Even Guthma scared of them, and he really big!"
Khasos grins, clapping Tyrek on the shoulder and giving the man a look.
"What did I tell you? More flies with honey than vinegar, my friend."
Khasos then continues to talk with Chiglet.
Khasos kneels smoothly onto the ground, bringing him eye-level with Chiglet. He reaches into his pack, taking out one of his trail rations. He removes half of the ration, offering the food to Chiglet.
You say you're a good cook. If you are, well, maybe you can come with me. You could cook for our group, and we could help keep you safe. For me to make that work with the town guard, though, I have to know a little bit. What can you tell me about your clan? I'd also like to know about Guthma and these masters you spoke of. I know they're scary, but my friends and I will protect you. I promise."
Chiglet greedily snatches at the ration with his jaws, devouring it rather noisily.
The goblins says, with a toothy grin.
"Well... Ok then... But Chiglet not know much, we Mokrul goblins just soldiers for the masters. I never seen 'em, but Gargal did and he says they're the scariest elves he ever saw! They got eyes like fire, and strange skin and powerful magics like BOOYAGH! Guthma says he's not scared, but when they send the Dragon lady to talk to him he gets real nervous. Guthma is warchief of the five goblin tribes, he a real tough bugbear. I seen him kill 3 orcs at once, I swear!"
Chiglet becomes visibly afraid now, aware of the fact that he's said far too much.
"Can we talk about recipes now? Chiglet scared..."
Khasos smile kindly, offering the second half of his ration.
Rising, Khasos speaks to Tyrek in Common.
"Well, he's certainly forthcoming! I...may have sort of promised to intercede on his behalf with the guard...and also take him in and help him become a chef...I don't know, I sort of got carried away with the message of hope," Khasos said, grinning sheepishly and shrugging.
"But it's been fruitful. Apparently Chiglet here is of the Morkul clan, soldier-goblins of the five tribes. Guthma, a bugbear, is their warchief, and apparently he serves some other, more terrible masters. It's second hand information, but Chiglet describes them as scary elves with fiery eyes, strange skin and powerful magics. Those don't sound like any elves that I know."
"Glad we made it in time to at least save you," Thâdænn says with a low bow to his fellow dwarf. "Thâdænn Wyrmbeard, at your service. Now! About that drink of whiskey..."
Tyrek shrugs non-noncommittally at Khasos' mention of the goblin becoming a chef. "Little guy made a pretty good light. Who's to say he can't cook?" It's not that he particularly likes the goblin. He just doesn't have anything against it. Tyrek isn't the one who got stabbed by a goblin today.
"I don't like the sound of scary elves with powerful magics, but at least it's more interesting than this place has been. I guess we should tell the others."
Tyrek waits by the door to join the others in the dwarf's house, giving the excitable little goblin an appraising look.
I didn't get to burn any goblins today. We'll see if this one gives me a reason.
The unmistakable clanking sound of steel armor can be heard coming from the north. As you peer around the corner of the small shed you're standing in, you make out at least a dozen heavily armed guards. Unlike the previous guardsmen you've encountered, who were clad in leather jerkins and wielding simple spears, these soldiers wear suits of battered scale and chain. Each one carries a small shield, and they brandish blades or axes as they make their way through the harbor in strict formation. As they reach the sight of the previous skirmish near Jorun's boat, the one in front stops two soldiers and clearly gives some kind of order. The two nod, then begin to deal with the grisly scene as the rest continue on. The leader kneels for a moment, inspecting your tracks before following them toward Jorun's dwelling.
Tuva returns with the others, her raven looking smug somehow. (How does a bird do that?)
"I'm not sure my palate will agree with a goblin's recipes," she says a bit wryly.
"Regardless... this valuable information needs to be disseminated."
Griff's mouth waters as he gets a whiff of the potent alchohol. "Well now, that's a good drink if I ever had one! Smells a lot better than the usual swill I get at the tavern, that's fer sure!" He tosses his first back with a gulp and breaks into a fit of coughing at the unexpected potency of the drink. "Holy hells that's strong! I didn't expect that." He laughs cheerfully at himself and holds his cup out for another round, planning to sip this next one.
"Bahaha! Wee bit strong for ye, is it lass? Even this big lunker is having a rough time of it!" Jorun laughs, slapping Griff firmly on the shoulder as you all finish your first sip of his savagely potent beverage.
Khasos grins.
"Who knows? Maybe he has a crazy talent for picking stuff up? But I agree, we should return to the others with this information."
As Griff reaches for another drink, he suddenly stops, his face turning (more) green. Leaping to his feet, he looks about wildly, trying to find a waste bucket or something similar. Spotting something in the corner, he lurches towards it but doesn't quite get there in time. "Oh oh, 'scuse me for a min-" Vomit spews across the floor as the big half-orc clutches the nearest piece of furniture to hold himself upright. Bent over with his back to the others, all they see is heaving shoulders and a prodigious amount of slimy fluid splashing onto the floor between his feet.
He stands up, spitting out the last remnants of the disgusting puke and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He turns around sheepishly. "So, uh, I don't s'pose you got a mop or something nearby?" He grimaces and spits once more. "First, though, I need to rinse out my mouth. How 'bout another shot o' that stuff? I know better'n to guzzle it now. Lesson learned, heh."
A dozen well-armed guards approach the small open shed within which you all stand. They fan out into a semi-circular formation, barring any opening you (and Chiglet) may have taken to leave. One steps forth with sword drawn, his red tabard signifying a superior rank of some kind.
"I am Captain Thomas Swift, of the Targos Guard. What in the nine hells is going on here?" he asks sternly.
Thâdænn throws back his glass of whiskey in a single gulp. A wry grin crosses his face and he nods in deep appreciation. Staring at the the glass, he chuckles to himself. "Reminds me of my uncle's home-distilled spirits!" Patting Griff on the back, he lets out a bellow as the brawler leaps to his feet and runs for the privy.
|
Nilah has reasonable experience with stiff drinks. One can age whiskey for a truly long time in the reaches of the abyss. Yet she wasn't quite prepared for the dwarf's fire-water. Maybe it was simply due to having just finished a strenuous battle.
"Thish ish... 'ven the 'byss, pretty shrong. Time Nilah nap." She quickly finds the nearest seat as she comes under a "wobbly" feeling.
As waves of nausea wash over her she feels the urge to get out of the dwarf's abode and get to the edge of the dock.
Hurk.... The party hears an unsettling low roar as she ejects her dinner from earlier that night.
"Hmm... ish hungry 'gain."
As Nilah and Griff both empty their stomachs on the wooden floor of Jorun's home, the ancient Dwarf lets out a deep belly laugh.
"Ye're not the first ta be sick all over Jorun's floors, and I doubt ye'll be the last!" he chuckles, moving to grab the mop and bucket he keeps by the door. As he passes the window, his laughter stops and he turns with a more dour expression on his face.
"Fun's over lads and lassie. Ye'd best join yer friends out there, that's the guard Captain just arrived and he looks none too happy... Mind ye walk out slowly lest one o' those jumpy guardsmen stick ye with a spear!" he says, quickly offering a glass of water to Griff and Nilah in the hopes that they'll sober up.
"Ye take 'em outside gently Thadaenn, that firewater hit harder'n I thought it would. I daresay the guards will want a long word with ye all, and the hour is getting too late for this old badger anyways. Make sure ye return tomorrow evening, I've a debt to settle with ye lot and Jorun Tamewater always pays his dues!" Jorun says in a fatherly tone to the younger dwarf.