"Well, well, well!" Chief Yiddlepode, in her glorious velvet blue operatic cloak, peers at all of you. "We have gotten another request* from the Pathfinder Society." She pulls out a set of gem studded opera glasses, unfolds the stylish handle, and lifts them up to peer at the note. "Interesting. This one is not from Drandle Dreng, but from Sheila Heidmarch! She wants you to travel to... Kaer Maga?"
A large mutant otugh bounces into the room. He is wielding two hats on his tentacles like sock puppets. One is a dashing commodore hat, the other the flowing cowl of a Prophet of Kallistrade. He holds up the cowl and talks in a high, squeaky voice. "Oh no, will there be danger, oh brave brave Hats?"
"Of course there will be danger," Hats says. "But Brave Hats is not afraid!"
Then hoisting up the Commodore hat, he proclaims in a loud, strident voice,
★ --- ★ --- ★ --- ★
Chief Yiddlepode looks upon Hats’ puppet show with a tolerant expression, and then hands you all the The Venture Captain Letter from Sheila Heidmarch.
Greetings Chief Yiddlepode and honored Sewer Dragons,
I hope you don’t mind my contacting you directly, but I have a mission that might be of special interest to your tribe’s best agents. For some time I have been making diplomatic inroads into Kaer Maga, the so-called City of Strangers. The Society would love to gain access to the many vaults carved beneath the city long ago. However, because of the danger of the vaults, the group in charge of protecting them—the Duskwardens—rarely allows anyone to stray from their carefully patrolled paths. The Duskwardens seemed willing to consider allowing Pathfinders to venture beyond their protection, but only if we were acting on behalf of one of the city’s major factions with their endorsement. They want us to prove that we are willing to work as partners to a faction and that we will not upset the city’s existing balance of power.
After receiving the Duskwardens’ reply, I reached out to the leaders of several of the city’s largest factions with evidence of our agents’ skill and goodwill. Most of the responses I received were noncommittal. However, Halman Wright, the leader of the Freemen faction, took a greater interest. A few years ago, Wright led a successful slave revolt, and his followers took control of the Bottoms district. Since then, the Freemen have maintained the Bottoms as a safe haven for former slaves. They also do everything they can to promote the cause of freedom without Kaer Maga without disrupting society enough to unite other factions against them.
Halman has requested that I send a team immediately to investigate the disappearance of a group of his allies. He did not provide further details, but did request that we send any kobold allies that we had available. You all come highly recommended by Drandle Dreng, who keeps talking about your brilliant actions in the Shadow Plane.
Before you go, you should know that very few in Kaer Maga are beacons of morality. Halman’s Freemen are perhaps the most upstanding organization in the city. I would rather secure an alliance with them than any of the alternatives. Do your best to prove yourselves to them.
Sincerely,
Sheila Heidmarch
★ --- ★ --- ★ --- ★
Included with the letter is a map of Kaer Maga, and a voucher for Grand Lodge Teleportation for your entire team later that day. Yiddlepode blinks at the teleportation voucher. “This Venture Captain, Heidmarch, has spared no expense! What do you think she’ll have you be doing?”
Sneaky Minion slouches into the meeting, keeping his eyes and ears open, but his back to a wall and standing in the shadows. He hisses with amusement as he considers this newest mission.
"New tunnels to explore, and new quick fangs to set! And a mystery on top of it!! This is going to be fun!!"
|
Vanarog stands and waits outside of Chief's office, he waits and he waits a bit longer.. just a bit. NOW! He heads inside with a swirl of his majestic cloak, just ahead of Skyrahk Eat my dust Softscale! He smirks.
Vanarog makes sure to position himself upfront in the most visible and prominent position so Chief knows who leads this merry band of Pathfinders. As the letter is produced Vanarog makes sure to be the first to read it, speaking out loud to properly brief her team:
*Ahem* "Listen up softscales, this is very important! One of you can't read the Longshanks' tongue, so I will avoid embarrassing you in front of our great Chief." He stares directly at Skyrahk for what must be an eternity before smiling and looking back down to read the letter aloud.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Standing menacingly back and to the side of Chief Yiddlepode in her 'Official Bodyguard' duty, Pethjun holds out a small pillow for the Chief to set her shiny opera glasses on when the woman is done with them. While there, she silently sizes up the other kobolds: the competent and reliable slow fang master, Fazgyn; the odd but deadly chief alchemist, Athrax; the yapper Engashez, fairly useless but for being a good source of encouragement; Vanarog, the kobold with illusions of grandeur; and the true mastermind of the group, Skyrahk.
Setting down the pillow with the opera glasses, Pethjun starts to listen to Vanarog's reading of the note, glad she didn't have to leave her post. Her interest is quickly lost as the conversation turns to politics, a topic completely useless for the fighter/bodyguard. Just get to the point where you tell us what we're fighting... Oh some slaves got free, whoop-dee-doo.
Her attention is brought back in as the ticket is brought out. Oh finally someone up there recognizes our Chief and tribe's prestige! She gently taps Chief Yiddlepode's velvet shoulder and leans over, asking in a low voice, "Are you sure you want me to go with them this time, too? I will be so far away from the tribe, what if something happens to you?"
What do we think she'll be having us be doing? It's explained in the letter, silly old man. Even Vanarog better leader than you, Yiddlepode, and Vanarog terrible leader.
"It would be our blessed luck if we got to meet with another true, true dragon." These kobolds didn't need the emphasis... after all, they had been along when they met the true, true dragon, but Engashez had still not missed an opportunity to remind any of the tribe of their good fortune. "But I think this will be more of a long-legs kind of mission."
"You know, talk and investigation. You know how these Pathfinders are. Still, it is good for the Sewer Dragons to work with these Pathfinders. Chief Yiddlepode, it shows your wisdom to bring this group back together. I will be honored to be your voice in this negotiation. The longlegs will long remember treating with the Sewer Dragons."
Athrax bumbles into the room nose deep in a book as flipsf rom page to page "Hmm." "Interesting"... "If I were to use that reagent inste----" Athrax looks up from his book and sees the assembled group. I thought this meeting was tommororw. Hearing the last bit of the message Vanarog so 'elquently' restated Athrax holds on for dear life inorder to svoer his own.
"Ah yes Kare Maga. I have heared wonderous things about this place and the plethora of ingredients and reagents one might secure."
"When do we set out from here?
|
|
"We'll be helping slaves find lost slaves... Longshanks are weird. At least we're doing it underground in old, old caves. Think of the many ancient treasures and powerful majiks!" He wrings his tiny claws together at the thought of it. Those majiks will help push me to the top as rightful, most majestic Sewer Dragon ever!
"There is much to do to get ready! Meet in the big room with the stinky water after lunch. Vanarog cannot magic travel on an empty belly." No no, tossing belly mushrooms very embarrassing. He spins and his cloak whips around as he strides out of the room, still wringing his hands with a smile.
Fazgyn bares his fangs at the idea of more talking. "We tried much talking last time we helped the Pathfinders, and still we fought lots of nasties and managed to employ very devious slow fangs. I am sure this will be much of the same.. we try to talk, but they will not respect us until we make them." He finishes this statement with a happy snarl of glee.
"For once, Vanarog is right.. Lets get some food before we leave! I want to see him slosh up again like he did last time!!"
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
“I will be well guarded here, loyal Pethjun,” Chief Yiddlepode assures her bodyguard. “I want this Pathfinder Venture Captain, Heidmarch, to be impressed with us. So I’m sending my best!”
“Oh, Brave Hats, there will be talking?!” the high pitched voice of Awesome Cowl, says, its pristine white robes whipping around with excitement as Hats waves his tentacle around. “It’s a good thing that you’ll be with the dragons to keep them out of trouble.”
“Actually,” Yiddlepode interjects, “the invitation said nothing about —”
But Hats is already moving with you towards the larder. “COME TROOPS,” yells strident Commodore, “LET US ENSURE THAT WE ARE WELL-PROVISIONED!”
With both of his favorite hats balanced upon his tentacles, he bulls his way past Yiddlepode towards the tribes’ larder. “STOCK US UP FOR OUR JOURNEY, MINION!” Strident Commodore yells, and the staff guarding the larder take one look up at the Otugh before hustling to get you your provisions. You grab a quick meal to go of various smoked meats from the tribe’s larders, and any other supplies that you can think of.
★ ---- ★ ---- ★ ---- ★
Once fortified, the seven of you (nine if you count Awesome Cowl and Strident Commodore) make your way through the sewer system to the drainage pipes under the Grand Lodge, where a cheery Pathfinder and a half dozen guards are waiting for you. “Oh! Are you must be the delegation of Dragons that we were expecting!”
She’s small and incredibly cheery, wearing a wayfinder proudly on her chest. “My name’s Janira! Pleased to meet you and...” She stares up at the Otugh. “Oh, wait a minute... Are you Hats? Oh, I’d love a chance to interview you! I’m doing a report on famous aberrations in Absalom!” Then she sighs. “But... duty first. I need to escort you to Kreighton’s lab. Your teleport awaits!”
“So it that’s Hats, are you the team of Dragons that traveled to the Shadow Plane? I’d love to hear more of your experiences!” Janira bobs cheerfully ahead of you, taking you up the stairs and into the basements of the Grand Lodge. It’s very well guarded, and organized. You pass by something marked, ‘Dark Archive Vaults — Authorized Scholars Only’. “No, Hats!” Janira says, as the Otugh tries to bustle its way through. “That’s for the Dark Archivists only. Not even I’m allowed there.”
“ARE YOU TRYING TO GIVE ORDERS TO ME?” Strident Commodore demands.
“Yep. I can do this, because I will beat you at a... staring contest!” The little halfling stands firm, eyes focused on Hats.
“A staring contest!” Hats is excited, tentacles quivering with delight. “I have never lost a staring contest!”
The guards all tense, gripping their weapons, but there’s no need. Janira’s full of firm concentration, her gaze never leaving the eyes on the Otugh’s central tentacle. Sweat dripping from her brow, The two stare fiercely at each other, until Hats blinks.
“Aha!” Janira says. “Got you!”
Hats’ tentacles droop and Awesome Cowl whispers, “Brave, brave Hats... I don’t think you should give her an interview. She’s rude and does not appreciate your greatness.”
But he backs away from the mysterious and beckoning door, and Janira turns back escort you upstairs, gesturing like a self-designated tour guide. “Beneath its majestic buildings and manicured lawns, the Grand Lodge of Absalom is honeycombed with warrens and secret storerooms that connect to the various fortresses—or to none at all. Known as the Vaults, these chambers serve the lodge's resident Pathfinders and contain everything from secret workshops to siege supplies to mundane basement storage. Like Skyreach and the other fortresses, use of any portion of the Vaults is by permission only, and mapping their labyrinthine paths is strictly forbidden.”
She looks at you brightly. “Any questions, noble dragons?”
|
|
Vanarog leans on his dragon head staff heavily, doing his best (sorta) at stifling a yawn as the Halfling and Hats go at it. "My biggest question is... not important. HOWEVER, if we are riding magic to this big city with caverns filled with great treasures, how we getting back with all those treasures..."
Halfling and Hats... classic softscales.
Pethjun yawns broadly, not even trying to stifle it as Vanarog did. Again with the talking, when are we going to fight something? She does start paying attention though when the word 'contest' is brandied about. She watches it with a slight twitch of amusement in her tail, even going as far as clapping when Janira proves successful. I would have never thought a small person like that could beat Hats at anything. She's got spunk!
Her motivation slightly renewed by the unexpected 'fight', Pethjun starts to view the place in a more tactical light. "You know with a good number of slowfangs and some well palced gaurds this could be a veritable fortress! Even moreso if it's not mapped out!"
She then turns to Janira, her tailspikes creating small sparks as the flick about in excitement. "There aren't any particularly strong creatures down here we can fight, are there?"
Engashez is happy to see that Hats would be venturing out with them. Still a little sore at having offended the otyugh the last time they'd had occasion to work together, she'd longed for an opportunity to repair that relationship.
I can't give up the hattiest hat, of course; it was far too useful last time out for that.
"Hats! I'm glad to see you here. Perhaps you and I could interview with Janira together. I too would love to learn more, and there's much she can learn from both of us, I bet!" She smiles up at the otyugh, hoping that Hats was comfortable with the otherwise discomfiting smile of a kobold by now.
When Janira asks if there were questions, Engashez has one. "So we're going to make contact with these Freemen. The only good guys in Kaer Maga, I guess? So, what are the other factions that we might encounter? Who are the bad guys that we don't want to upset?"
As the nice halfling lady goes on with her interactions with Hats Athrax just chuckles to himself thinking only of the silliness of the whole thing. Clapping as the staring contest comes to an end. "Noble Dragons? Why yes we are." Athrax smiles at the admonishment of Janira and begins to ask her "What can you tell us..." Skyrahk cuts him off.
Thinking again he opens his mouth in query "Yes we are going there how are we getting..." rolling his eyes as "The Great and powerful" Vanarog interjects.
"and just think of the Alchemist Lab I can make in a Fortress of that size." Athrax adds to Pethjun's entrenching statement. "What kind of Creatu.." Pethjun's blood-lustful glee steals the words from the chief alchemist's mouth.
Listening to Engashez, Athrax begins to see where her line of questioning is going and quickly attempts to speak over her "Who are the bad guys that we don't want to upset?" looking at Engashez he sticks out his tongue "I said it first."
True dragons always want to be first, always want to be chief. We now parlay with true true dragons and they still only think of who is best or strongest. The Sewer Dragons are already the mightiest; the Pathfinders now seek our aid because they don't have the cunning and power to complete their own missions, yet we still think of which of us is better!
Engashez reflexively shakes her head--with a soft grin--as she basically ignores Athrax's interjection, awaiting the response from the enthusiastic halfling.
Fazgyn tags along at the back of the pack, and watches bemusedly as the little softscale stares intently at the hat wearing tentacle. As they get moving once more, He gives Pethjun a toothy grin at the mention of exploring and trapping the area for the Pathfinders. "That would be a wonderful time.. So much we could do here.. and there.. and tunnels.." his voice trails off into mutters and plans, his eyes going wide as ideas pour in.
Suddenly he gives a shake and returns his attentions to the little softscale. "What enemies, yes.. but what goal too? We look for lost soft scales first, but what do we do with them if we find them? And when do we get to explore the new tunnels?"
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Janira laughs at all the kobold questions. “You Dragons are as inquisitive as I was when I first came here! Kaer Maga is horribly fascinating. It's a cliffside city at the top of the Storval Stairs in Varisia. The city is built inside the ruins of an ancient fortress: a six-sided ring of 80-foot-high seamless stone, stretching more than a half mile in diameter and topped with towers of every shape and design. Kaer Maga has served as a refuge for exiles, misfits, and ne'er-do-wells fleeing persecution and prosecution for thousands of years. I’ve heard that it’s a place where anyone can fit in, and where anything can be bought and sold.” She pauses. “I’m not ever been, though. I’ve only heard of some of the factions of the City. There’s a whole bunch of different neighborhoods, all with different personalities, governments, and specializations.”
Using an illusion spell, she flashes a map onto the wall as you climb. “There’s Ankar-Te, a neighborhood filled with necromancers and legal undead. There’s the Balconies of Bis, filled with mansions built onto shelves on the cliff wall. The Golemworks is supposed to be there, a big factory run by some arcane craftsman called the Brotherhood. They don’t let women craft, so they sound horribly parochial. Still, they do patrol their neighborhoods and apprehend criminals...”
“Only one more stair left...” Then she turns to you. “Oh! The Duskwardens are a faction that you might want to know too. They patrol the Halflight Path beneath the city, and they might know the way around the vaults under the city better than anyone! From what I understand, we’ll be dropping you right outside the Warren, an open spot in the ring. Maybe once you get there, you’ll be able to ask questions in detail?”
By this point, you’ve reached an open arcane workroom with a huge teleportation circle drawn in the floor. An elf with long white hair looks at you with confusion. “I was told to expect six kobolds. Is the Oytugh going as well?”
“How can he not know who you are, brave, brave Hats?” Awesome Cowl asks plaintively.
“DO YOU NOT KNOW WHO THIS IS?” Strident Commodore snakes forward on his tentacle, the hat bumping against Kreighton Shane’s nose. “THIS IS THE MIGHTY AND MODEST HATS, PROTECTOR OF THE SEWER DRAGONS!”
Kreighton blinks as the Commodore hat bumps him in the nose again. “Remind me to charge Sheila Heidmarch extra for this.”
Kreighton Shane casts his spell, sending all six kobolds and one overly excited Otugh to a spot just outside Kaer Maga's walls. The massive ring that otherwise surrounds Kaer Maga is cracked open here and you find yourselves in the Warren, the shanty-town that lies in the broken section of the ring. A whole rickety slum lies all around you, and in the middle of it is an open air market with tons of pop-up stands selling every kind of shoddy good that you can imagine.
"Socks! Socks! I swear to you, good sirs, ye've never seen socks like this!" A man waves mostly clean wool socks at Engashez.
"Knives! Shaving implements! Beards trimmed on the spot!" A half orc calls, waving his blades at Skyrahk.
"Meat pies! Fish pies! Fruit pies!" an old woman calls. "Two day old soup! It's practically fresh!"
"Howdy!" A grubby halfling pops up. He smells a bit of booze, tobacco and of the meatpie stand behind you. "Jabberin' James, the Maven o' Meatgate at your service. Can't help but notice you lot's from out o' town... Maybe from somewhere lizardy, am I right? O' course I'm right! Welcome, I can tell that you and me are goin' to be the best o' friends!" He puts a comradely arm around Pethjun. "Look at you! All tough and stuff! I can tell that you and me are going to be pals! You lot look like you could use a guide to Kaer Maga, and goodness gracious me, ol' Jabberin' James could use the cash! So, am I goin' to be your guide or what?" He grins expectantly, holding out his hand, waiting for you to drop cash in it.
|
|
Vanarog had begun to doze in the corner after his solid lunch as he waited on the chatty and apparently late Elf Oh now we go, but I was just about to have that great dream on the throne again! He grips his dragon staff tightly as the room melts away and the walls of Kaer Maga form around him.
Vanarog squints his eyes in the bright lights of the above ground city "This not looking like underground treasure room to me... that Elf sends us to the wrong place!" He immediately pulls out his list and painstakingly inscribes 'Kraytun Shayn' on to it.
The majestic one marches over to the pie stall and taps his dragon staff on the counter "You there! What do you have for mushroom pies? What about pigeon pies? And don't you try to pass off chickens for pigeons!" He waves his finger at her menacingly.
Digging aroung in his pocket for whatever loose change he can find Athrax sees Skyrahk waiting patiently for Pethjun to to answer the bright and plucky halfling.
"Socks?!?" Engashez asks incredulously, looking down at her bare feet with their sharp claws. "Know your audience, dayrunner."
When Jabberin' James begins selling his services to Pethjun, she begins to imagine the fighter negotiating with the guide and dozens of uncomfortable or expensive outcomes pop into mind in mere seconds. "We could use a guide, but how're we supposed to know you're any good, Jabberin' James? It's probably a lot smarter for us to go hire a guide from an agency in the city, no? Someone licensed and bonded?" she suggests, calling to mind some terms she'd heard longlegs use before, that she hoped she was using correctly.
"Why are you such a good guide; why should we hire you?"
Pethjun, bemused by the otugh and elf's back and forth, but otherwise bored, is excited to see the same elf move away and start casting a spell. We might finally get to see some fighting! I hope there is plenty of things to fight here!
She is immediately disappointed to see that the group arrives in a market place. She gives a grumble and flicks her tail angrily. Great a place full of socks and blades so small you couldn't use them in a fight. I thought we were here to fight soemthing not go shopping. With a sigh, the white kobold trudges through the marketplace with everyone else.
Intially blowing off Jabberin' James, not beliving the man would think of talking to her, the most intimidating creature on the street, Pethjun gives a slight jump of surprise as the man wraps an arm around her. Shocked into silence for a moment at his uppity-ness, she doesn't immediately repsond to the unwanted touch. However, shock soon gives way to anger. As a low growl starts to form in the back of her throat, the kobold gives Jabberin' James a dirty, back-the-hell-off glare as she reveals the first two inches of her rapier's blade and gently klinks the blades on her tail against the cobblestones. "Did I say you could touch me? Back off or you might lose a few fingers."
________________
“I have a pigeon pie right here! Fresh, too!” the old woman says to Vanarog, pointing knowingly at some of the city pigeons pecking at the ground near her cart. “I lay out crumbs, color spray ‘em, and then boom-bang in the pot! Want some? A silver a slice.”
Meanwhile Jabberin’ James responds to Engashez. “Some guides might be taciturn chaps who only gives you a few words as they tot you around — barely worth hirin’ in my opinion — I, Jabberin’ James will tell you everything I know about everything and I am the talkiest guide in the city! By the way... Love what you did with the socks. Them people will try to sell you anything whether you needs it or not, they will! You want someone who knows the city and tell you a hundred thousand tales, why that’s me. Yessireee. That’s me! Now folks like you that’s from out of town, you don’t know that there’s no licensing and bonding, there’s just folks like me who do things on our own and doing things on our own is getting things done...”
When Pethjun tries to intimidate him, Jabberin’ James pats her on the shoulder. “Heh, heh. Ain’t that cute!”
Meanwhile, a new peddlar comes wheeling his way through the Market. “Caps for sale! Caps for sale! Fifty cents a cap!”*
You all see Hat’s eyestalk swivel, suddenly looking interested and alert...
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Fazgyn hisses in alarm as the busy city warps in around him and he is suddenly accosted by the sights, sounds, and smells of human civilization. As the hoomman darts in and begins to interject himself into the party, he looks over to Skyrhak and hisses in draconic "Can I make him disappear?? Please??"
|
|
"Hrmmm" Thinks Vanarog as the pie acquisition endeavor intensifies with an offer "How about this. You give me a slice of your best pigeon pie, and if I like it good enough I give you 1 gold piece for the rest of the pie? If pie no good then no gold." He raises a scaly eyebrow as he pulls out a gold piece.
Vanarog is definitely ignoring what the others are doing, yammering along with the yammering short leg. Quiet down over there, you're interrupting important talk!
Pethjun's eye starts to twitch as the rude man calls her *shudder* CUTE *shudder*. She reaches up and very slowly lifts his hand off her shoulder, before whipping her tail around underneath Jabberin' James' feet.
_________
_________
Glaring down at him with slitted eyes, Pethjun hisses out in common "Don't. Touch. Me. And if you want to keep breathing never call me cute again!"
With an explosive release of air, she moves over to Engashez, switching to Draconic. "I think you were yapperin' with him. But if you're done, then I call first strike! Disrespectful over-talkative scum."
_________
The look of dumbfoundedness is apparent on Athrax's watching the 'altercation' between Pethjun and James. Athrax assumes the worst at this point and begins putting his heathe coins back into his belt pouches. Well this is interesting. Unclasping the broken wayfinder from his belt he looks it over and says in draconic to the assembled dragons "Didnt Drendle Drang and the halfling we met at the grand lodge both say something about explore, report and Cooperate at some point in there talks?"
Pethjun gives a low growl at Athrax, sticking to draconic. "There's little room for cooperation when 'cute' is on the table." She gives a small sigh a second later though. "Though, this isn't our mission and showing how well we can conform to Pathfinder wishes would raise our estimation in their eyes. Fine, I won't kill him, but if he tries doing something rude again, no promises."
Engashez walks over to the prone man. "Mmmmm. Tread lightly, longlegs." She looks back to the Sewer Dragons, and nods at the apparent consensus. She looks back down at the man.
She addresses him in an even and fair diplomatic tone, but it's still clear that she only sees James as the transgressor. Clapping Pethjun on the back? "CUTE?!?" He's lucky he was only tripped.
"We do need a guide. We're obviously new here; our customs are quite different from yours. Maybe a little more calm from you will help us stay more calm as well. I'm sure we can make something work." She offers him a hand to help stand up.
"So, tell us about Kaer Maga. Start with risks; what should we look out for while we're here?"
“Oomph!” Jabberin’ James falls flat on his face. With Skyrahk and Pethjun looming over him, he looks ready to bolt until Engashez offers him a hand. “Er... I don’ know how to shut up really... They called me jabberin’ for a reason, but... there’s lots o’ risks in Kaer Maga. The city is full o’ them. It’ll eat you up and spit you out alive if yous pick the wrong streets or the wrong peoples to piss off.” He blinks. “It could take weeks to list off all the risks. Where’re you lot goin’? Is there anyone or anywheres you wants to see, particular-like?”
Meanwhile, Vanarog finds that the pie seller to be accomodating. “Alright then...” she says, sizing him up. “But if you cheat me, I’ll put your liver in me next pie. Got that?”
She points her blade in his direction as she pushes the pie slice over. It’s delicious. There’s a few hot peppers and some pices that you haven’t had before, but the meat is fairly fresh and juicy, and pie crust the right amount of flaky. “Well, you buyin’ the rest, or are you choosin’ to piss off ol’ Sal?”
|
|
Vanarog raises an eyebrow at Sal as the slice of pie moves in his direction. "It looks like good pie, but majestic kobolds like me have very good tastes!" He lifts it up with both hands and takes a large bite, chewing slowly and carefully before swallowing.. almost.
He stops chewing and opens his mouth, the pie falling out and hitting the floor with a Flooop "This pie... may look good, but whatever is in there tastes terrible! You ruined the pigeons with that... spices! I'm NOT paying nothing for this!" He pushes the remaining bit of pie back and grabs his waterskin to wash his mouth out. "Ack it burns!" He mumbles through mouthfuls of water.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Fazgyn tries to keep a steely glare on the newcomer, but bursts into outright laughter at the mishaps of Vanarog the Weak Tongued. "HA! You wouldn't know taste if it walked up and bit you!!" he guffaws. Turning to the vendor, he flips a gold coin through the air to the man. "that was truly the most entertainment I have had so far this trip!! " he says before turning back to the possible captive.
"We are looking for Halman Wright of the Freemen. Have you heard of him?"
Engashez turns when she hears Vanarog's outburst. She eyes the wizard, trying to figure out what important task could be distracting him from their mission. Pie? He's arguing about pie? This is the one who styles himself our future leader. Whooooooooooooo. She shakes her head, shares a smile with Skyrahk at the latter's snicker, and turns her attention back to the task at hand.
"The Freemen; they're supposed to be one of the... I don't know... clans? Tribes? How do you call them here in Kaer Maga?"
Ol’ Sal glares at Vanarog, but at Vrolg’s tossing of the coin, she grabs it in mid-air and says, “At least one o’you has manners and taste. Good to —”
Whatever she would have said, is lost as a obsessed otugh charges past you, yelling, “HAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTSSSS!” and then saying, “Oh brave, brave Hats, we must liberate all the caps!”
This is followed in turn by the call of “Caps for sa— Aiiiieeeeeeeeee!”
Ol’ Sal stands there with her jaw open. “Look at that peddler go. I don’t think I ever seen him run so fast.”
Jabberin’ James dusts himself off. “Yeah, I heard o’ Halman Wright and the Freemen. They’s good people, an more than that, they’re good people who knows how to have a good time. So... let Jabberin’ James just tell you all about it.” Then he points up at the sky. “Better say goodbye to that first, though. Other than here in the Warrens’ the only place that sees direct sunlight is the lake in center o’ town — an that lake only gets sunlight for two hours in the middle o’ the day. Hope you guys like things shadowy and dark.”
Jabberin’ James then leads you out of the Warren, a maze of makeshift shanties and haphazard constructions that its residents have cobbled together with limited resources. The transition between the Warren and the rest of the city is stark. Everywhere else, Kaer Maga's thick walls are in good repair. All of the city's districts except the Warren are situated in a multilevel complex of massive chambers, cast in perpetual twilight lit by a kaleidoscope of shimmering lamps.
In the Warren, no one much paid attention to you, because the Warren was a mixed district of humans, half-orcs, wererats and even goblin or two. In other districts, your band of kobolds draws a bit more attention and outright stares, but as you’re just traveling through no one hassles you. You’re not sure if it’s because Kaer Maga is tolerant, or because you guys simply look too well-armed and competent to mess with, or because Jabberin’ James never-ending stream of chatter acts as a sonic barrier to keep all but the deaf away. James never uses one word where twenty might do, and regales you endlessly with bits of improbable Kaer Maga history and lore. Still, he guides you effortlessly over rickety and swaying rope bridges that provide shortcuts in Kaer Maga’s ring. “Best not to look down. They’s not so bad if you gets used to it, and none o’ these have collapsed in months,” he says cheerfully. “Once you been here a couple weeks, you’ll be traversin’ these with the ease o’ a circus acrobat, you will.” From watching the locals, young and old, traversing these rope bridges, you get the sense that James is right. The locals act non-chalant as they sway back and forth, hauling groceries and stopping to gossip along the way. “‘Scuse me, pardon me,” James barges past them, leading you closer to clumsy pinkskins than you’ve ever been before.
“We’re headed to the Bottoms, a working-class district of craftspeople and laborers,” James tells you, full tour guide mode engaged. “Its people, they values hard work, but they also place a significant value on leisure.” He winks as he says that. “They likes to have a good time, they does. Many o’ its residents are former slaves, making freedom a central value o’ civic life.” As you look around the Bottoms, you see that the streets are humming with activity. Glass windows in many of the buildings reveal small workshops, where experienced craftspeople teach their trade to a new generation.
“An speakin’ o’ leisure,” James pauses to point out a Pub with a plain sign that reads THE COMMON HOUSE. “Right in there is the most popular place in the Bottoms. It’s a bar! It’s a freakin’ temple to Cayden Cailean! It’s the seat o’ government too! You lookin’ for Halmon Wright, you’ll find him there.”
As the doors to the Common House swing open, the sound of music, drinking, and merriment flows into the streets. A team of servers rushes among clusters of tables, delivering pitchers of ale to grateful patrons. In the center of the hall, on top of a long table, a team of fiddlers dances and plays a cheerful tune. Near the performers, a small group of armed individuals sits at a table with a conspicuous row of empty seats. They as one turn and draw weapons as you enter.
“Hold! We’re expecting a kobold team!” One of the armed people stands, looks you over, and then beckons. “Pathfinders! Thank you for coming. Over here, please. We've saved you seats.” The seats are all too high for you and Jabberin’ James, but they have rungs along the legs that make them easy to climb. Indicating his two companions, the man says. “This is Anva and this is Joelle. They're fellow councilors. I'm Halman Wright. We have the honor of representing the interests of all of the fine folks of the Bottoms.” He gestures for everyone to sit. “Before we start... Does anyone want a beer or a meal? I won’t have that fancy Heidmarch lady hearing we mistreated you after you came all this way to see us.”
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Fazgyn jumps back as the great and mighty (mysterious) hats charges past him to places unknown. "OI!! What the--" he starts, looking down the dust trail rising from the creature.
He gazes around in wonder as they pass through the different rings, returning open stares with one of his own. Reaching the bar, he give the place a look from under squinting brows. "Looks good enough. Maybe some good food here?"
Pushing through the doors he is surprised by the synchronized movements of the reaction! His shortswords clear the scabbards with smooth practiced motions, readying for the attack. He takes pause though, as one of the locals tries to calm the situation. He looks cautiously around as the rest of the tavern returns to thier night, and slowly slides his own weapons away too. At the mans introduction, he gives a short nod in return. "I am Fazgyn.. trapmaker of the group. That is one way to welcome supposed friends. But I will take your meal and ale.."
|
|
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Vanarog gargles his mouth out with water as one of his minions pays off the terrible baker for her destruction of perfectly good pigeon. What a waste! He pays no mind to whoever it was and heads over to take in the yapping shortshank they were all hovering around. "Who are you? You may call me Vanarog the Majestic, and if you're going to guide me around this city you best get started!" He waves the halfer along with his spindly arms, walking along with his staff in hand.
As they move through the city Vanarog keeps a sour face, at least until they leave the Warrens and the level of craftsmanship improves "For an important city most of this place is like our Sewers at home. Rich treasures won't be found here!" He flashes his staff at his guide, its eyes glowing red and angry. "Show us the good stuff already!"
He continues to flash the angry red eyes of his staff at any passerby that gives them a dirty, or long look. Too many longshank softscales to list here! He eventually walks into the Common House, his clawed feet getting tired.
As the longshanks introduce themselves Vanarog's demeanor improves dramatically, he quickly conjures a disc of pure force, hopping up on it and hovering up a few feet to speak face to face "Greetings big ones. I am Vanarog, leader of this expedition of Sewer Dragons. We would happily accept food and drink before our parley!" He looks around sniffing the air before quickly adding "No pigeon pies!" He flicks his tongue angrily at the thought.