Cricket! Wake up!
Kelgan, how do you react to the appearance of a fierce-looking monster walking into Burl's distillery?
[Cricket laughs in his sleep]
No, no, Ilthzmar, turn it the other way...yes, like that!...
[Lets out a sound of pure contentment and drools some more]
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[Cricket smiles some more and his eyes briefly open and he sees the lizardperson]
Great Mother Tree! A gallamesh!
ah! I've got nothing! Well Spellcraft, and that's it: +2 for, uh, shiznit I've got nothing
Holy shiznit! A f~@%in' gallamesh!
Caspian turns to the awakened Cricket....
he says quietly...."Ah yes the Epic of Gallamesh. See here even our goblins are cultured, and can be taught."
"Same paper pass that you got, just a different day."
"Tsarock do you have any money?"......
Tsarok decides to pay no heed to this... Master Distiller Burl's (But why did the child call him a king? Perhaps he was confused?) obvious reluctance around him. It was understandable, and perfectly respectable; as the leader of this Distillery, he had to display his alpha traits in order to dissuade others from challenging him. He had no desire to take over the strange-smelling place anyway.
"Master Distiller Burl, my name is Tsarok, He of the Summer Storm. As for a drink..." Well, the drink was already here, even besides its god-awful spell. It was almost as if Burl was asking him to drink one of the various concoctions he brewed. Perhaps a test of one's strength? Caspian's comment seemed to confirm his suspicions as well. "... I will humbly accept your offering."
Tsarok closes his eyes and nose as he downs the glass as quickly as he can, although he chokes on the taste of it and his throat burns like he'd swallowed live embers. He coughs quite a lot afterwards, tears welling at the corners of his eyes. Still - the lizard-man tries to remain strong.
Suddenly, a wild goblin appears before Tsarok can fully recover, babbling something about gallameshes (was this another strange term like baragoon?). "Be calm, grinning one, I mean no harm."
As for Caspian's question... Tsarok shakes his head. "I have no need for human gold, although my tribe sometimes... came across some," he admits weakly, deciding midway through his speech that it was probably not the smartest idea to go too deeply into that. "But I can offer trade, mayhaps, as a gift for the Great and Kind Master Distiller Burl of the Distillery."
He hesitates a moment, wondering just what he could offer a Master Distiller. The usual offerings between lizardfolk tribes usually consisted of slaughtered game; but where would he find a musk deer or giant eel around these parts? Judging by the bizarre drinking ritual, he would not be awed by his alchemical creations, either. So Tsarok decides on something a little more personal, although he hated to suggest it - still, it would embody respect for the Master Distiller.
The lizard-man reaches to his neck and removes the thick leather necklace he wore there. Attached is an array of various decorations, although primarily feathers and teeth of varying shapes and sizes interspersed with bone shards painted with ochre.
"For each being we kill, we keep a memory of their body with us to honour their lost soul. It is a measure of my growth from child to adult, and a symbol of respect in my tribe." He offers the necklace to Burg. "The respected souls protect the wearer from great evil. Perhaps you would find some use in that."
Burl looks almost kindly as he accepts the necklace (although you sense the wariness may still be there), then indicates one of the decorations -- a burnt bone shard with dye. "Tell me about this mighty champion, and of his slaying," he asks.
Caspian sighs in relief and grabs the small soft balls he has been using to practice the art of juggling in the time he was a slave and entertainer he had picked up some hints on how to juggle from the jester, though he himself had never had time to master the craft....
Jaegr takes the drink gratefully, needing to once again deal with how different the surface dwellers are in respects to other races. He does admit to himself, however, that it is easier to be tolerant of other races when most of them are not set on the elimination of your own race.
Kelgan turns from the quiet conversation with the Openers to see the new arrivals at the Distillery. His eyes go wide with surprise as a scaled, feather-bedecked, crocodile-man enters the establishment.
The strange person seems to be a new acquaintance of Caspian's, and his natural inclination to put several steel bolts into it is tempered by that. He sits at table he was standing beside and quietly draws and loads the crossbow, just in case. He keeps the bow concealed beneath the table and makes eye contact with the table's other occupants, so there are no misunderstandings.
He watches the interaction between Tsarok and Burl intently, ready to spring into action if the lizard makes any threatening moves.
Caspian begins juggling first one ball then two one in each hand, then a third, the fourth is a bit trickery to get, but soon enough the repetition and pattern of the motion fall into line for the halfling....
"I hate to bring it up, but the army of bullywugs he has been talking about sounds pretty serious. I would expect the duke to send out some scouts or a ranger maybe."
"Burl I been meaning to ask you about mixing drinks for some customers sometimes as part of my act."
[Cricket takes in the whole scene wide-eyed. Old Mother Tree hates bullywugs.]
The lean, Draconic-speaking Opener drawls, "No bullywugs in Estren. They live in the Cortland Marshes in Balvora -- I fought 'em there once -- and I heard some were in the marshes near Hylore in Avion (but those all got wiped out). Never heard of any east of the Estren River, though. Sure as hell never saw any out by your people," he adds, nodding at Tsarok.
Burl is interested in this line of the conversation, but is even more intently waiting for Tsarok's reply regarding the bone fragment.
"That one?" Tsarok peers at the necklace, and smiles a little at Burl's choice - although to some more wary others it may seem like a baring of fangs more than an expression of pleasure. He seems to enjoy talking of his own shows of prowess.
"There was a... I do not know your word for it. Ag'kistro is what we call them. A snake that swims and slithers, with a head like a spear-head, dark brown and black banded scales. The normal size is like this," the lizard-man stretches his hands wide, "but he was a successful hunter with strong blood in him. He grew so large that his fangs were as long as my arm. And then he grew daring."
"It was dangerous for us, so a hunting party was selected. I wisely selected a spear with a long handle," Tsarok gestures towards the longspear in his hand, "but Ssairin chose poorly. She took a club that was too short, and the poison was too much in the end." He mutters a short prayer in Draconic after speaking the name of the dead.
"Normally I would have taken a scale, but they were larger than normal, like autumn leaves, so they were made into armour. So I took the tail shard instead."
"The dye is for Ssairin, to cleanse her lingering hate. The burn is from fire, to purge any poison remaining."
Burl, obviously expecting some fabricated tale of a one-on-one battle against an orc god or something, is first surprised, then pleased at the telling.
He chuckles a bit. "Would that I had some of that venom for the still -- there's a lot you can do with it." He carefully removes the bone fragment, fits it to his hatband, and hands the remainder of the necklace back to you. "Thank you for the gift," he says.
"Now, what's this about Bullwinkles? And what the hell are they, anyway?"
Tsarok seems surprised that Burl would return almost the entire necklace in return for just a single story, but graciously does so. After all - it had some significant sentimental value to him...
"Your language refers to the Croaking Ones as bullywugs, I think," he says, shooting a look at Caspian for confirmation. "They are cruel and vicious and ever hungry frog-people. They threaten our lands - and yours."
"I do not know why, but they are on the move. I have seen the signs of abandoned human villages on the edge of the marshes, marred by their spears and left to fester. If nothing is done, they will continue to multiply until their numbers overwhelm all..."
"I might could find a book in the library with a proper artistic rendering an more relevant information about bullywugs."
Caspian sighs and wonders if he should get some training as well on making sketches and maps...
"I would bet that some years are more favorable to numbers of the species surviving to adulthood."
Caspian looks questioningly at the dwarves....
"If I do that will you promise this guy will still be alive when I get back?"
Cricket staggers to his feet. Shaking his head, he says
Bullywugs are very bad! They are greedy and always hungry and they slay all the beasts and befoul all the waters they drink and besmirch all the land they tread. Old Mother Tree instructs us, as good Tuelvi, to not suffer a bullywug to burble, as they say, but instead to slay them, to slay them all, yes, and their womenfolk, too, and their young, and their tadpoles, all!!!
It may be hard to imagine Cricket serious and war-crazed and scary, but he is a 4th-level goblin druid dressed up like a wood elf and he is shaking his fist. Seeing everybody's startled faces, though, he loses nerve and puts his fist down. Much more meekly, he says
Well, they're very bad. Maybe we should do something about it...
Cricket Survival
Cricket is dimly aware that he's never seen a bullywug, no one he knows has ever seen one, and no one he knows has ever mentioned anyone else seeing one, with the exception of the people currently in the room. Yet the Tuelvi have legends specifically calling for their extermination. There may be something significant there, but you can't put your finger on it.
Hmmm. Cricket doesn't like hard thoughts.
I think we should do something about it. Turns to Burl.
Do you have any Worcester sauce?
Takes out a notecard.
I got a corking good recipe for a hangover cure from a valet down at the bathhouse, what, what!
Cricket busies himself mixing a drink.
"Woostersheer? Is that anything like Angostura bitters?" He puts a shot of the latter, mixed into some throw-away reject whisky, on the bar in front of you, then, looking at your bloodshot eyes, adds some hot sauce for good measure. "In case yours doesn't work," he offers.
"Prune juice....." adds Caspian for no apparent reason.
Cricket down the two concoctions after adding some prune juice to each one. He starts to shake and tremble, his eyes bulge out of his head, flames shoot out of his ears and he flatulates loudly and forcefully, lifting him momentarily off of the ground.
Jolly good man, that Jeeves, now, let's go get these bullywug blighters and all that sort of thing, what? what?
Cricket shadowboxes and throws a few jabs, Marquess of Queensbury style.
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We'll be cutting you off from Wodehouse now, sir.
Tsarok is unsure what affliction is corrupting the goblin, but decides that it was probably a good thing that there was someone stranger than him in the room. (He nevertheless covers his nose and steps away from the Gob-pom. Gobrit?)
Caspian had been working on mixology, and had been wanting to secretly test his theory that some portion of the dwarven attitudes were partly due to constipation, he had introduced prune juice into some drinks and writing the results into his journal, including bathroom breaks. Of course he makes it look as if he is writing music instead........
.....maybe castor oil or salts of Epsom, though those were stronger they were phase two and three of his experiments......
Caspian says nothing.
I'll go get Wolvie and get ready says Cricket, leaving the distillery.
Jaegr doesn't understand this foolishness, but is tolerant of his friends' nonsense.
Kelgan has had enough liquor for the time being and just wants to go kill things!
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"Should we talk with the duke first before hunting down these bullywugs? Wouldn't want to start a war without him knowing about it first. Plus maybe we'll get some support from him."
Duke Kolvin is still in the city, until the Forge is rebuilt and things are back to "normal." He generally doesn't see anyone except on the street. He listens briefly to people who accost him -- replying by either nodding, shaking his head, or staring people down who annoy him -- all while continuing on his way.
To actually get a word in that Kolvin will give serious thought to, you need to route it through Gaston, the villainous-looking hill dwarf with the rope mark around his neck. Gaston is easy to see; he's all over the place, checking things, listening to rumors, scaring or sometimes killing wrongdoers, and so on. He's not a nice person at all, but what he lacks in personality he makes up for in energy and dedication. Burl and Kelgan seem to understand Gaston's zeal pretty well, although it's a mystery to everyone else.
Satisfied that Caspian had not brought a mindless savage into their midst, Kelgan stows his crossbow and approaches the bar.
"I appreciate that these toads are a threat to the lizard's tribe, and I am not unsympathetic to that, but have you all so easily forgotten Kaylissa? Her boss is still out there somewhere, and I think he's still in the city. We need to find him, before we go gallivanting off. The Duke will certainly help us find the people who tried to kill him. I can go speak with Gaston today. In fact, I'm going there now."
"I think Gaston would be really mad if anyone but him tracked down my ex-girlfriend's boss, an I for one am staying off his toes and out of his way. I have let him know our help is waiting on his word."
As Cricket straps on Wolvie's saddle, he whistles an old tune, holy to Mother Tree, about killing and exterminating bullywugs and what a joy it is that they haven't been seen in so long.
"Hey but I thought I was going to the library to find reliable lore....."
Caspian, go ahead and throw a Survival check for info on bullywugs. A DC 10 Streetwise or Admin check gets you professional help at a library, giving you a +2 Aid Another bonus to your Survival check.
You are also entitled to Knowledge (warfare) and Knowledge (lore) checks (apply the same Aid Another bonus, if applicable), for potential additional information.
Wyvurn slips into the bar with his hood drawn attempting to draw as little attention to himself as possible. Upon seeing the reptilian humanoid, he shrugs, removes his hood and sits down next to Jaegr.
"Word is that the group may be heading out on the road again. These walls are becoming a bit stifling and I'd join you on this latest adventure if all of you don't mind."
Caspian heads to the library, he covers a table with books and scrolls....
Using his mastery of lore, he sorts fact from fiction.....
Taking 20 per loremaster!
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Bullywugs:
Warfare:
Cortland Lore:
Diplomacy: Stay tuned!
Diplomacy and more Warfare:
Unfortunately, de Corbel has not been seen or heard of in a year, and his knights will admit no one to his keep.
Oh hey, Wyvs, long time, no see! Anyway, I saw a pretty big fire over on the other side of town. I don't know if we'll be able to leave until it's taken care of. Anyone want a drink?
"Word is that the group may be heading out on the road again. These walls are becoming a bit stifling and I'd join you on this latest adventure if all of you don't mind."
Jaegr nods and says, "I believe events are beginning to move again. I have enjoyed this time we have had to relax, but to be honest I am ready to hit something hard again. When we leave, it will be good to have you with us."
Caspian come rushing back full of excitement and a bit of bluster....
"So I think I have the angle on this all worked out. Turns out two allies of the Duke are in the vicinity of the Cortland Marshes, the first Brut de Corbel is a powerful fighter with a keep and men at arms, he defeated the bullywugs before and has even more knowlege. I have heard that no one has seen him in over a year and his knights are not letting people enter the keep. I suggest we get the Dukes blessing to check in upon Brut de Corbel. Also the powerful wizard Remy of Autrisch, is rumored to have a manor house somewhere in Balvora. I am not sure how his allegance lies, but should we prevent him from being over-run we might benefit handsomely!"
Burl leans over to Caspian and says, "I wouldn't be so quick to mingle with the likes of wizards and noblefolk! They care nothing for people like us, and we're all better off making our own justice and our own laws."
You begin to see why you're an adventurer and he's not!
Caspian notes the justaposition and realizes that Burl is imagining wizards as something threatening, which apparently Halfling bards do not fall into the category of being veiwed as threatening, he silently muses that perhaps a halfling wizard would prove Burl's point maybe turn him into a she-dwarf for a few days.....
Caspian actually responds with...
"These guys need work and the opportunities for them..." Points at Cricket and Tasarock both "...are very limited."
Caspian fixes his mouth into a thin line of tension and just nods his head at Burl...."You know what I mean?"
Burl examines Cricket carefully, then admits, "Well, OK, I probably wouldn't let him run the still unattended..."
Cricket introduces Tasarock to the joys of fermented beverages and then belches loudly.
Wyvurn nods to the lizardman, "I'd be careful with Cricket. If you are joining us, and it appears that you are, Cricket has a wolf to ride while he clears his head in the morning. Unless you can conjure a mount for yourself, I doubt the ale will be that pleasant in the morning."