"As I noted a few days ago, if we expect confrontation with mites, we should have cold iron weapons handy. Though I suspect that Audsley's explosives might also be effective."
Audsley hesitates. "So come back when we have cold iron weapons? All right. Sounds wise. I'm not sure about, ah, tackling an entire mob of mites all by my lonesome. Um. Shall we press on?"
"You wouldn't be all by yourself! I'd be there, right in front of you! Ready to defend you and dish out the pain!" exclaims Emil. "Are they that impervious to regular weapons?"
"I think they might be," Franka chimes in. "Thing is, we just don't know... We don't know how many there are, what the conditions in there will be like, and just how resistant they are to normal weapons. In this case I'm with Audsley: They haven't proven a danger yet, it might be best to come back when we're properly prepared."
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"Better to be over-prepared than under-prepared," Janna echoes. "If it turns out that they're completely impervious to conventional weaponry, we'll be happy we waited."
Janna pauses a moment, looking for the right words.
"And if it turns out getting cold iron was entirely unnecessary, the downside is that we're out some gold, instead of some lives."
Planning a shopping trip, the party leaves behind the Sycamore tree. The journey northwards is uneventful, though occassionally you see signs of conflict: burnt trees and blood stains give hint to the conflict the region has seen.
On the next day, an outcropping of large boulders emerges from the weathered face of a nearby hillock. A narrow opening in the rock leads into darkness below. A fallen sign leans against the side of the cave entrance, and a cage made of branches and sticks sits on the other side. Within the cage is a single blue skinned fae that Turante / Franka can identify as a Mite. It cries out in common when it sees, "Humans! Let me out!"
From behind a small set of boulders, a kobold with a spear appears to be hiding.
Audsley slows down, fanning out his arms as if to arrest the imminent charge of his companions.
"Bait? Is that what the mite is? And ah! A kobold! A trap of some kind. Perhaps they are trying to deal with the mites as well?"
He looks to the group. "Which one of us dealt with the kobolds so suavely last time? I forget - but perhaps they can sally forth and disarm our lizardine friend with loquacious grace?"
"You might be right, Audsley. Maybe we can use this to secure an alliance with the kobolds. Maybe some of us could talk to the mite, while we have a chat with the kobold. Janna, you were learning to speak their language as well,didn't you?" Franka descends from Heimdall and takes two paces closer to the kobold, waving to show she's seen it. "Hullo," she greets in Draconic from a distance, holding up her hands to show she's not a threat. "Would you be willing to talk to is? Have you had trouble with the mites living below the sycamore?"
The kobold perks up a bit as you address it in Draconic. "Soft skins speak the dragon-tongue?" Knows of the nasty miteses?" He hops out, still brandishing his spear, shoving the butt of it against the cage after the captive mite screams out, "Mortals! Free me from this cruel bondage!"
"Hey there buddy!" says Emil to the mite as he dismounts and takes a few steps towards the creature, spreading his hands out to show he intends no harm, but nonetheless staying well away from the improvised cage and it's occupant. "How'd you end up in there? Wanna talk about it? Help us figure out whats going on?"
"Well yes," Franka replies to the kobold before she proceeds in slow Draconic, stumbling on the odd word occasionally. "We have seen tracks of the mites, and an entrance to their... lair? Just south of here. However, this is the first we have seen one in person." She looks back over her shoulder, studying the blue creature in the cage.
"What kind of trouble have you had with them? Are you at war? Did you set a trap here, for others of his kind?"
Audsley immediately decides to engage in swift and direct diplomacy. He rummages about in his pack, and pulls out a cut of hickory smoked bacon as thick as the sole of his shoe. He'd been saving it to garnish their soup with that night, but this might be a nobler purpose.
"Here," he says to Franka. "Sweeten him over with this. Though it pains me to serve it cold..."
The kobold appears fascinated by the abrupt appearance of bacon, his toothy maw watering, eying it as he responds to Franka. "The miteses raid our lands, and capture our clutch! Our shaman, Tartuk has commanded that we remove their foul presence from our lands, yet this has been costly." He thwaps the cage again, for effect. "This one is set to show what is in store for Miteses that tresspass here."
Franka beams a big smile at Audsely, and mouths a silent 'Thank you' as him, then turns her attention back to the kobold. "That is very interesting..." If we help them, could we maybe get direct access to this Tartuk?
"As I said, we saw the entrance to their lair, a bit south of here. We were thinking of going in there, but we have not proper weapons. Cold iron, you know? Does your tribe have any of those? Maybe we could help dealing with the mites. Then, maybe we could meet with your shaman Tartuk?"
The kobold hops from one foot to the other. "Weapons? Cold iron useful, yes, but even kobold whelpling can hurt Miteses with steel and stone. Just hit harder, yes?" He thinks a moment. "Shaman Tartuk has cold iron sickle, but probably loathe to part with it. Go, kill Miteses, return heroes?"
Audsley waves the thick wedge of black pepper encrusted bacon slowly through the air, fascinated by how the kobold's eyes if not entire head follows it.
"I do have bombs." He says this to the others. "Or we could return to Fort Owlbear and see if they have cold iron there?"
He looks to the others, eyebrows raised.
"If they had cold iron weapons at Fort Owlbear, wouldn't we have found them when we rounded everyone up after defeating the Stag Lord? Your bombs might well be sufficient, Audsley."
Franka thinks for a moment. "Yes, you might be right. If kobolds can deal with them, we shouldn't have a problem either, would we? And being hailed as heroes by the kobolds would go a long way to making sure they won't cause trouble..." She looks back at the path, where they came from. "So, we go back and check out the lair under that tree, after all?"
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Audsley pats his vials and bottles as if to assure himself that they are all present and accounted for.
"All right. Let us sally forth. I can prepare myself quite admirably before going below ground, and deal a terrible blow to those mites. Assuming there aren't hundreds of them..."
"Good idea, Janna," replies Franka, and she relays the question to the kobold, in Draconic. "Can you tell us anything about the lair under the sycamore tree? Do you know of any other entrances, or how many Miteses there are, in there?"
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The kobold jams the edge of the cage, "Speak! Tell these how many entrances and how many Miteses!" The Mite glowers with a murderous, yet resigned expression, before responding. The Death Tree from which we make our mortal home was once home to dozens of my kind, now a handful survive on this Side. There are only two entrances: one through the trunk descending, and one ascending out of the Mirrorlands out of the pit."
It is likely that the Mite is referring to an entrance through the Æther.
"Death Tree? Oh my. That is ominous, isn't it? Practically foreboding."
Audsley gives himself a little shake. "And a handful. That would be five? Four? If we can group them all together nicely, I can take them all out with one bomb. But then again. How strong is a mite? Ah. Should we... well, this is grim - should we kill this one to learn their strength?"
Audsley's face goes a little funny over his own suggestion.
Emil, who thus far has stood silent, becomes agitated at Audsley's words. "Absolutely not Auds! What are we? Gal... I mean barbarians?" Stepping further towards the cage, he points at the mite, continuing "This thing might be evil and cruel, but that doesn't give us leeway to behave without honor. It's what separates us from it. We don't need blood knowledge of that sort."
He sighs. "If we are going straight back to that tree to root them out, mark my words you will all get back out; Abadar bear witness, I won't let you fall to this thing's brethren, no matter what it costs me."
"Anyway" he quickly continues, hastily returning to his more usual demeanor "Uuhh... Franka! Do you think we could get into the lair through that Mirrorland passage, or is that a bad idea? Auds? Turanthe?"
Franka looks quite disturbed at Audsley, but luckily Emil saves her the task of calling him out on it. She's all to happy to switch the topic of the conversation. "Well, no. The idea of some portal sounds astonishing, but I'd have no idea yet where to start. The most practical way would be to start from the tree, and search the lair for this entrance - or exit - to the Mirrorlands. That would be something. All the more reason to go in there and explore!"
She takes a look at Audsley, and doesn't want to leave his fears as it is. "I'm sure it'll be all right, Audsley. The Mite there doesn't look all that fierce, and the kobold here said even kobold younglings could take them on." That reminds her of something, and she turns to the kobold, switching to Draconic again. "I'm sorry to have to ask just now, but can you give us your name? Mine is Franka, and these are the other Adventurers in Gold."
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Túrante says, "Mites are generally not especially tough. They are simply more readily vulnerable to cold iron weapons. They still have more of their faerie nature, which makes them a bit resilient in our world."
"As for the passage... that would require some kind of magical token or spell to spot and use the passage, most likely. The mites are already attuned to the AEther because they are fae. We are not so fortunate, I think."
The kobold nods. "Franka, Adventurers... you have gold? Not see gold." He shrugs, then continues. "Nakpik is my name. Set to guard against nasty Miteses"
Audsley blushes furiously at the others' remonstration. "Oh, but of course, I mean, assuredly, there is no need in that, if we feel confident, if we, well, think that there is no great danger in burrowing beneath the tree..."
He pokes his two pointer fingers together and gazes down at the ground. "I suppose I'm a little worried about squeezing down below those roots. A touch of claustrophobia, one might say, but nothing that will terminally impair my efficacious. Just... making me a little more cautious, is all. Is all."
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Leaving the kobold and mite, you backtrack to the south to the massive sycamore. Pausing to make initial preparations, you foray into the roots of the tree.
After squeezing into the entrance , you progress through a cramped and winding passageway deeper into the earth, passing by exposed roots and raw dirt and stone walls. After a short time spelunk through a rough crevasse that has been expanded by tool marks, you enterinto a larger cavern that your heads barely clear.
Along the walls you see several black-scaled kobold bodies bound and hanging limply against the rocky wall, covered in wounds and the signs of abuse. One of the kobolds appears to still have life left: his wounds are still flowing though he appears unconscious.
More importantly, however, a half dozen small blue skinned creatures (mites) are arrayed out in front of a bend that goes deeper into the cavern. One of the small creatures shouts out something in his language, and all of them appear hostile!
Something about the area here gives Franka a momentary pause: the pull of the Æther is especially near.
[ooc]Active Global Conditions: None.
The long, flickering blue vial that Audsley quaffs has the same effect as before; his limbs seem to elongate slightly even as his forehead recedes, his eyes growing bright with a feral amusement as to the hunt they are about to enjoy, and his body as a whole seems to become more fluid and boneless. Nothing extreme, but the change is marked, and as the group descends below his breath is short and rapid, as if excited for what's to come.
When the mites come into view, Audsley doesn't hesitate. He glides behind Franka as if they were executing a ballroom pass, steps out to her far side, and then whips his first bomb in an overhand throw, sending it spinning through their group and into the midst of the mites.
Upon entering beneath the tree, Franka utters a short prayer to the gods of the wild. A bright light springs forth at once from the tip of her spear, to light their way into the dark.
As the get deeper, Franka acts distracted, touching a hand to the wall, or putting out a hand at nothing. "It's... Can you feel it? Like it's... pulling."
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Emil draws his sword and readies his shield before stepping into the fray. "You MONSTERS! You DARE torture other creatures? I will see justice be met out! To you first" he finishes, not quite as smoothly as he might have started, pointing at the one at the head of the group.
Túrante frowns and launches an arrow past Emil toward the kobold a short distance south of him (blue).
(-4 for firing through cover)
Audsley watches his bomb go off with cold satisfaction, his face pensive if not outright calculating as he watches the explosion do terrible damage within the confines of the tunnel. As the mites collapse before their onslaught, he gives a tight nod of approval, hitches his bandolier a little tighter, and moves forward to continue their exploration.
Emil smiles bitterly. "Well, at least those are done for. Franka, Turanthe, get the little guy before he joins his fellows in Pharasma's boneyard. I got the other passage. Janna, with me. And ... Uh... Auds? Does that weird potion you keep making more of make you capable of seeing in the dark? Or smelling scents? You seem a little more... Primal. I guess" he asks, as he steps towards the only other exit.
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"Sounds like a plan," Janna says, longsword in one hand and torch in the other. "It's surprising that there's this much space under the tree. Considering how many were in that front area, there could be dozens remaining; we should probably not tread too far from the girls."
Janna keeps his eyes open, scanning the floor for signs of traps or ambushes.
"Primal?" Audsley lets forth a sharp bark of laughter. "Primitive? Positively simian? You sound nervous, my dear Emil. I assure you, there is nothing to be afraid of. This potion, this mutagen, this deliriously delicious and delectable extract merely renders me... more assured, adroit, adaptable, and able."
Audsley almost leers at Emil. "Though it does not yet bequeath unto mine self the ability to root around like a hound nor pierce the darkness like a bat. Only kill, my dear friend, with greater efficacy."
So saying, he pulls forth another bomb, bounces it in his palm and peers eagerly into the depths of the tunnel.
"Oh. Well then. Carry on" replies an unsettled Emil.