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Wendell shrugs.
"Leather armor, a bow and arrows'll be enough to survive. Take them from the cart. Your choice to help us with the Mites'd do well to gain our respect and show you mean well for the land which you now claim to protect. That's up to you. I mean to keep no prisoner."
He looks at the bandit incredulously. "We have plenty of bows and armor. We don't have many horses, and I don't think we should hand them out to bandits who are just as like to eat 'em when the weather turns. I don't trust him enough. I've seen how bandits treat there horses, poor beasts."
After his piece is said, Wendell turns away and intends to not look at the bandit again, hoping he will disappear from his life forever.
Jerrik handed the man a dagger and his own waterskin.. "Help us return the ring." It was more of a question than a statement. Jerrik had listened to the wisdom in his friends and followed their lead. He wanted to show Roscoe that you didn't always have to take things by force. Friendship was the best example he could offer the man. It was more valuable than some armor and a handful of weapons.
Roscoe starts walking towards the cart, then stops as Jerrik hands him the knife and water skin. He accepts the knife and rolls it in his hand, deep in thought. He glances at the setting sun, then to the group of strangers that had hours before raided his camp and killed the men he had been traveling with. They had been evil men, yes. This new prospective life ahead of him seemed bright with oppertunity, yes. And it was all because of these five. "Ya'll aren't going anywhere, are you. These Stolenlands I mean. It'll be home to all of us." Roscoe nods to himself as if an answer has already been given. Grabbing the water skin with his other hand, "Alright. I'll enlist until Oleg's, if only to pay off moral debts." He takes a sip and hands it back to Jerrik. "I'll still use the bow though."
Alright let's get this caravan on the road. .
The small gnome climbs up into the wagon into his little nest of armors.
We have some mites to negotiate with.
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While they wait and discuss their plans, Wendell uses to wash any blood and grime off the arms and armor they recently acquired from the bandits.
He considers using the spell above Chett's head, like he used to do before he was recruited to join this group, but decides against it fearing Chett might maul someone to death.
After the items are cleaned, he removes two trail rations and eats one, giving the other to Chett. The tiger nearly refuses but hunger gets the better of him.
And so the group of Sword Lord envoys approach the Old Sycamore tree with an air of diplomacy.
Plastering an almost stupid looking smile on her face, Aleksara nudges Al a little to prompt him to speak.
As the wagon rolls up Alfentinius prepares his speech in his head... he knows he will most likely have only one chance at this and he has never met a mite before. But how different could they be from other fae?
Alfentinius will cast Comprehend languages on Aleksara so that she can tell the others what is being said.
Hello esteemed protectors under the Ol' Sycamore tree... we come seeking to barter and trade with you in the traditions of the Eldest... so that we may find common grounds and that all may prosper.
Alfentinius waits a moment for a response but hears nothing... He repeats his speech and still hears nothing. He tries it a third time then when nothing seems to come of it he seems to lose his temper a bit.
Hey stop being rude, you Miserable excuses for fae get your blue butts out here so we can become friends...
"I'd like to help but I don't speak mite."
Jerrik watched as Alfentinius went through the motions of preparing for the conversation. He didn't like feeling helpless. He wished there was something he could do to help. He tried his best to stand behind the gnome, close enough to interpose himself if negotiations broke down. He held his bec de corbin tightly with his right hand as his left rested on the pommel of his sheathed longsword. It helped him to remain calm.
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Seeing the negotiations break down and an imminent fight on their hands if he doesn't try to calm the two groups, Wendell tries a different approach. He takes one of the masterwork axes from the cart and holds it out before him as an offering of peace, approaching slowly.
"Tell them we come in peace, and this is a gift."
Wendell's best attempt at diplomacy only serves to highlight his rough edges. Chett bristles with protective anticipation as his friend approaches the Mites.
"What in the hells am I doing?" He wonders aloud as both the Mites and his allies watch him in confused wonder.
Arim watches proceedings he has no idea what's being said but everything seems to be going OK, no arrows or teeth yet at least.
Aleksara translates for the group...
"He's being nice to them...with no real response. Now he's being testy with them...and still no real response."
She turns to Al.
"Tell them we want to trade for the ring. Maybe that will move things along."
Using diplomacy to influence the initial attitude of an NPC is only allowed once per 24 hours... So if we wanted to come back in 24 hours... we could try again but Alfentinius will only hit that DC 1 out 4 tries... Also since none of you can speak Under-common or see the Mite's it's a little hard for you to give enough aid to make up the 11 point defecit we are seeing.
Now that doesn't necessarily mean a fight here... just that the little buggers are going to be hostile towards us. They may still be willing to trade... although they would try to fleece us most likely actually be purposefully rude and not even be secretive about the fact that they're trying to take advantage of us.
But the idea of the gift is a good one... might be a game changer. Maybe their greedy nature will get the better of them. Lets just hope that they don't decide the proper price for the ring will be the dwarf.
Alfentinius here's the idea of the gift and decides this is a good idea.
...
Excuse me... but we have a gift for you. It's a lovely bottle of spirits. Quite valuable and tasty. It's your gift just for talking with us.
Two miniature catapults rigged out of bones and branches are pushed out of the hole with thin strings attached to them. There is much laugher as both catapults are fired, sending two caltrops at Wendell! One misses while the other slams into his shin! Laughter erupts even more and the Dwarf curses.
"They are just trying to provoke us. Let's come back tomorrow. Give them a chance to settle down and we could use the rest."
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Wendell scowls in pain as the caltrop ricochets off his shin, letting forth a string of profanities in Dwarven.
He wants nothing more than to destroy them, but looks back to his friends for guidance while trying to ignore the throb of his lower leg.
"Nasty little shits shot at me! And they think it's pretty funny, by the sound of it."
He will not engage without his friends, but his hand moves back towards the glaive slung on his shoulder.
"Ay, try again tomorrow. They will see our persistence."
Wendell backs away from the Mites, but does not turn his back on them.
The night is uneventful and turns into day once more. Returning to the Ol' Sycamore you are able to attempt to trade a second time.
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Lords of the Great Tree, first off let me say I thought it was funny when you hit the Dwarf with the little Caltrop Catapults... Good stuff...
Alfentinius laughs for a minute to show he is truly amused... Afterwords he indicates Aleksara as the originator of his next words.
But at the behest and guidance of my friend here we have decided it is best to simply ask for what we need. We are in search of a ring that was stolen by some stupid human bandits. We defeated them killing most of them but learned that you had cleverly stolen the ring from the humans . We would like to buy that ring from you. The ring has no magi and is I unuseful to you. If you help us return it to its proper owner we can make sure you are rewarded for your cleverness and wisdom in keeping the ring safe from the stupid human bandits.
Jerrik simply smiles and waves at the mites, taking his hand off of his longsword for a moment.
A blue squinting mite head pops out of the hole.
The head then recedes into the lair, awaiting a response.
Translating again...
"Prankables...? They want stuff to do pranks with? And...the Kobolds stole the ring from them?"
Aleksara thinks on that and scratches her ear.
"Can they tell us where the Kobolds are? If they do, I have a single vial of Alchemist's fire I can give them.
Tell them it goes 'boom' but with lot's of fire. Wait...do they actually HAVE a kobold prisoner? Could we trade
for him instead? I actually speak Draconic fairly well too..."
Pranking one right now? And he isn't laughing... hmmm... Sounds like you've captured yourself a broken Kobold.
The small gnome laughs to communicate to others that he see's this as a joke.
I have a great idea why don't you trade him to us. You obviously aren't having as much fun with him as you could with other people... And we can use him to help us get the ring back and we'll give you things that you can use to play tricks on other people. We'll have to see the Kobold first though so that we can come to a fair price for him though. Make sure you haven't broken him too much...
Hey um... just an idea... Wendell how attached to that bear trap are you? Because if I was setting a malicious prank to defend my home...
"Interesting thought Al. Also note Wendell: Now that I've actually seen a working bear-trap, I can possibly reproduce
it once I can get an actual forge working. Of course it might be too big or heavy for them to use properly too..."
Well why don't we load up the things that we think the Mites may find most interesting for trade.
Once the others have their supplies loaded Alfentinius will start climbing carefully down the hole under the giant tree.
Oleg came out of the office to continue with some of the odd chores that still needed done around the trading post, when he noticed that the door to the barn was wide open. He was sure he had closed it. He walked into the barn and noticed that the stall that the goats and sheep had been kept in was empty as well. Then he looked up and realized that the main gates were open... and the animals were no where to be seen. A moment of panic ran through his stomach as he realized he had lost the animals that belonged to the adventurers sent to scout the Green Belt...
SVETLANA!!! We got a problem... I need to get one of the horses ready to go so I can go out looking for the Goats and sheep... It looks like they got loose.
Svetlana came out of the quest quarters still holding the rag she had been using to clean. How did you let all those animals get loose?
Olegs response was filled with the annoyance he felt... I don't know... I was sure I latched their stall as well as the stable door.
At that moment the animals came wandering back into the outpost some of them still with mouthfuls of the wild grasses that grow outside the Post in their mouths.
Oleg stood there dumbfounded as the male goat lead the other animals into their stall... closed the stall and then latched the stall door closed...
Oleg looked over at Svetalna who was obviously as perplexed as he.
As you enter the mite's lair Arim, Aleksara, Jerrik, and Wendell find the dimensions of it to be a little confining with the ceiling height barely over 5ft. You all see three crude, wooden workbenches occupying the center of this first room. Their tops are strewn with various tiny tools, metal and wooden hardware, and blocks of wood. A few more unfinished catapults of different experimental designs sit on the tables.
Three mites cling to the walls as you pass.
You scale the next shaft after the mite, the walls of which are thick with hanging roots. The slope to the northeast leads to a junction between the exit shaft and a 20-foot-long tunnel leading to what you find to be a hatchery. The wet-looking floor of this large cavern is crisscrossed by several shallow trenches, each containing trickles of putridlooking fluid. Six foul mounds of compost and dung lie heaped about the room, each studded with small spherical eggs.
There are three more mites in here, tending over affectionately to thee giant centipedes.
They look at you and your friendly nods, smiles, and items to trade with make these mites feel empowered and good about themselves. They don't focus on your group too long, returning to their job of petting the cooing centipedes' bright red and orange scales.
You crawl down deeper through another tunnel. This next damp room is haphazardly cluttered with broken beds, chairs, wagon wheels, and an assortment of worn, tattered, dingy, and broken objects pilfered or salvaged from big folk. A row of bookcases stands crookedly propped against the far wall, the shelves filled with bits of bone, feathers, and dried centipede legs. Old window frames, cracked and splintered, hang upon the wall like works of fine art. You swear there must be at least 15 mites packed in here. The smell is quite horrible and the site of them cuddling is equally repulsive.
You finally wade through the common room to a sort of war room where five mites and a giant tick discuss something in undercommon. Rows of wooden pegs line the earthen walls, some hung with tiny, filthy cloaks. In the center of the room stands a rickety table held together with twine, covered with a filthy redchecked tablecloth and heaped with mounds of dirt and twigs and gravel, apparently arranged to form some sort of map. Sitting at the edge of the map, weighing down a scrap of paper, is a bloodstained ivory statuette of what looks like a crouching reptilian devil. A bulging burlap sack sits under the table. High-pitched cries of terror echo out from across a ten foot chasm that is bridged with ropes. You can't see across into this other room, but you are easily able to guess that they are "pranking" the kobold there.
Grabbles stands near the table squabbling. He has a particularly large gap between his teeth, causing him to make whistling sounds when he talks. A particularly unsightly scattering of pimples decorates his face and tongue.
Aleksara will turn to Al.
"Start with half the furs, then up the ante with the booze, and then the rest of the furs as needed.
If we have to, we can offer the spare daggers and my javelins as a final trade or gift to seal the deal?"
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"Chett, stay."
The nervous feeling in Chett's gut shows in his eyes and temperament as Wendell prepares to enter the Mite den, but he abides the command and curls up under the cart.
Wendell is nervous himself. He prefers not to go anywhere that Chett couldn't go. The cat usually had the right of things, and places he couldn't go were often places that should others shouldn't go either.
Alfentinius walks forward a large smile on his face to show he is not scared and offers the mite a low bow to show respect.
Greetings Grabbles, Lord of the Mites.
I am Alfentinius Lentinels Ferrington and I am honored to be brought in your presence. Seeing the size and richness of your community so cleverly hidden has shown that you are worthy to negotiate with.
I understand how you must enjoy the songs the Kobold sings... But how many times do you want to hear the same song over and over. What was new and entertaining today will be dull and boring tomorrow. But of course I say things that a clever mind such as yours already knows.
As we were brought before you I saw that you have accumulated much by the cleverness of your schemes.
What we offer for the Kobold... assuming of course you have not broken him too much... Is a box of furs. These offer your creative and inventive people many options. You can use the skins to sleep on and be more comfortable at night. You can use them to make clothes to show how noble you are. They can be treated to make armors to protect your warriors in combat. They can be used to create disguises to fool those you would prank. So many uses and possible purposes. And all we ask is one little Kobold who always sings the same old song. A song that will one day come to an end.
Alfentinius will reach into one of the boxes and pull out a wolf pelt. He will then walk forward and place it in the hands of Grabbles.
Grabbles looks over the wolf pelt intently, such beautiful fur... his eyes are wide in pleasure. He then waves to two of his men who leave temporarily and then return with a black scaled kobold bound in roots and covered in stab wounds from several small sticks. The creature is very confused, scared, and looks exhausted as it is dragged into the war room. Then it sees the ivory statuette on the table and his eyes grow wide.
The creature says as it starts trying to struggle free of its bonds.
"See, beautiful specimen. Furs good start but he worth more... two boxes and deal."
Grabbles replies, visibly looking proud of his negotiation skills.
Hearing Draconic, Aleksara easily picks up what the Kobold is saying.
"The statuette is valuable to the kobolds I think. Very much so it seems. We should try and add it in to the
deal if you can Al. It would make getting the ring back much easier I believe."
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"Offer 'em the booze for it, or the trap. A single bear trap ain't so dangerous as a weapon." He studies the Mites while trying not to stare.
When the Kobold is presented, Wendell feels a pang of pity for the creature. He does his best not to let it show.
Wendell looks at the idol. "It looks...nasty. Any of you know what it might be?"
Noticing the statue after the kobold pointed it out, Jerrik peaked at it out of the corner of his eye. He didn't want to move his attention away from the mites, but he just had to see what the kobold was so passionate about.
At seeing the statue, he began to wonder to himself how he field react in the kobold's place. Being a prisoner while the captors held a sacred relic, Jerrik began to not only feel bad for the kobold, but his anger began to slowly rise.
He turned and looked at the captive kobold.
Why are you a prisoner little one?
Surprise etched on her face, Aleksara tries to cut off Jerrik with hushed whispers in common.
"If they catch you speaking the kobold's language they may consider us a threat, or worse: spies for the kobolds. Leave the creature be.
We can get him out of this situation with Al's negotiations, they have all but agreed to it so far, but it won't work if it all gets undermined
by their suspicions. Hey...I didn't know you spoke Draconic...such an odd accent too."
The tired kobold blurts out in draconic before he is smacked for talking and falls unconscious. Grabbles gives you all an eye.
Grabbles looks you all over and doesn't anger from the side conversation.
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Wendell listens and watches suspiciously as his companions speak in odd languages with these strange creatures. He does not understand them, but nods anyway.
"I say we give 'em the furs, and the bear trap too as a token of friendship, then get the hells out of here. Don't want to overstay our welcome."
In truth, the sight of the giant centipedes has his skin crawling. Wendell hates bugs.
Jerrik focuses his vision on the bound kobold and concentrates. His vision blurs until most of his surrounding are a bleak gray. Within seconds, colors start to coalesce around the kobold revealing his internal morality.
Alfentinius walks up and kicks the kobold.
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Wendell would you check to make sure the kobold isn't dying? Oh and everyone laugh like I'm making fun of the Kobold.
Alfentinius points at the map indicating the Ivory statue, the paper under it and some random rocks spread around the map. Then he goes and gets one of the bottles of green liquor. He holds the bottle up tilting it back and forth so the liquid sloshes against the side in a rhythmic fashion.