| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Again Pretty strikes the thing, hoping to end its suffering once and for good.
!
|
Mikmek throws his last stake, misses, and starts scavenging for weapons from dead mites.
Cassius nocks and shoots another arrow, but it deflects off of the tick's leg and inflicts no injury.
Oozing fluids from scores of wounds, the enormous tick fights on. It rears back and slams its horrid mandibles down onto Idris. She just barely gets her blade up in a two handed parry as the blow nearly drives her backwards.
The badly wounded bodyguard mite fights on, trading dagger thrusts with Pretty. Although its attack is off target, the mite stands his ground.
The unconscious bodyguard and the chieftain start to stir and recover their senses.
"Maja, Kivan or someone, take out the sleeping mite," Idris says between panting breaths, indicating the mite next to her on the ground with a jerk of her head.
Idris shifts south as she keeps her guard up, and decides to make a slash at the mite riding the tick instead.
|
|
Seeing the chieftain start to stir and recover, Idris reverses her grip on her dueling sword, and lowers her guard. The tick, uncomprehending, goes in for the kill. Idris leaps up, flattening her body against the low ceiling and thrusts out her sword. The tick's mandibles snap shut on empty air, and Idris' blade spits the hapless chieftain straight through the heart.
"Gorum's steel take your foul spirits!" Idris growls.
Pretty keep trying to hit the mite with powerful thrusts, but the low ceiling makes it hard for her to hit it. She keep striking the mite, but pays more attention to how Idris fights with her sword. Graceful strikes instead of charged ones... I'll learn to do that!
Kivan will hurl a globe of acid at the tick that is still standing.
|
|
Mikmek grabs a rusty knife from a dead mite and hurls it, badly off-target, into the wall. You get the idea he's not the best combatant in the world.
As Idris rips her blade loose from the chieftain, the mite rears up to snap at the offending boots on its head. As the tick's mandibles gape to nom on the daring duelist, Cassius sees an opening and lodges a cruel arrow into the weak spot between its head and thorax armor. With a chittering gust that seems almost like a sigh, the tick settles to the ground, dead.
Seeing his leader's defeat, the sole remaining bodyguard wavers in despair. Pretty takes advantage of the mite's distress and wounded state and slays the pitiful creature with a merciful cut to the throat. Checking the two lesser mites, it seems that the frantic scrabbling of the tick's sharp legs made somewhat of a mess out of them. Eww.
Mikmek pushes past the pile of mite carnage and heads to the back of the cavern. He kneels in front of a pile of junk that's been heaped against the wall and rummages through it frantically. With a delighted chirp, he pulls a rough burlap sack from the debris and draws from it a crude marble statue. He quickly turns it over in his claws, inspecting it, then places it carefully back in the sack. Mikmek then stands and slings the sack across his back, securing it with leather straps.
"This is what I was sent to retrieve - our holy statue. I have no claim on anything else you find here, and when we reach my tribe great riches await you!"
Searching through the room, you find precious little else of interest. In the corner of the room sits a rickety table held together with twine, covered with a filthy red-checkered tablecloth, and heaped with mounds of dirt and twigs and gravel. The whole mess is apparently arranged to form some crude map that would probably make more sense if you knew the lay of the land better.
Under the table there is a bulging sack. Inside you find 282 gold coins, 120 silver, and 193 copper, a potion that smells strongly of radishes, and a finely-wrought gold ring with a trio of diamonds set in it. Inside the band is engraved the phrase "For my Darling, Svetlana".
The mites had little of use on them. The bodyguards all had small-sized short swords of dubious value, and even the junk dealers of Brevic slums would look askance at the rusty knives that armed the tribe. The chieftain, however, was wearing a set of masterwork chain armor, and had a masterwork trident and masterwork buckler. The chief's gear is also sized for a small creature.
The cavern continues to the east, and turns upwards towards the surface.
Pretty takes a look at the ring, then handles it to anyone who wants to take a look. "Hun, who would guess? We found Svetlana's ring! It seems the Mites were smarter than those bandits..."
She is suspicious about the statues, and approaches Mikmek kindly. "That is a beautiful statue. May I take a closer look at it Mikmek?"
|
|
Wordlessly, Mikmek turns around to let Pretty retrieve and examine the statue.
The statue is roughly a foot and a half tall, and carved out of heavy marble. It appears to at one point have been a masterful bust of a stern-looking humanoid figure with equine features, but inexpert chisel marks attest to a later alteration. Scales have been chiseled onto the statue, and several rounded edges have been chiseled slightly sharper, giving the statue a distinctly reptilian look. The statue used to have something attached to both sides of its head, but the alteration removed those. The statue is warm to the touch, despite having been near no obvious heat source.
Maja, considering the table, eventually arrives at the conclusion that a particular chunk of rock indicates the sycamore tree that you're crawling under. The line of twigs over here could be the south Rostland road, this wood chip is probably Oleg's trading post. Based on the crude map, it seems that a pair of rivers to the southwest and southeast join south of here and drain into a large lake. Based on the bloody kobold scale next to the pebble line, the Sootscale lair is about a day's hike to the southeast.
Pretty examines the statue carefully, just to know how valuable it would be.
: "It is indeed a nice work Mikmek. When did they steal it from you?" Although the statue does seems to belong to the kobolds, Pretty got suspicious about how fast the kobold was to retrieve it, and so she scans his answer.
"So, let's proceed this way?"
Seraphina gapes as the last of their foes fall and the subterranean passages fall silent... and then her sudden surprised laughter resonated through the chamber. She blushed and smiled broadly when her companions looked at her questioningly. Her voice filled with joyful relief, she said sheepishly, "I hate to admit it, but I didn't expect us to come through that unscathed!"
She flourishes her hand and whispers under her breath, activating Detect Magic and scanning the area, including the potion and statue.
"I'm impressed by Mikmek -- he's not strong, but he never stopped fighting, and risked a climb to retrieve his weapon. Would you mind telling him that for me, either Kivan or Pretty?"
"Sure, I'll tell him." She approaches Mikmek, explaining what Idris wanted to say, and she also has a thought in her mind.
"How deep is that chasm Mikmek? There might be something of value down there, right?"
|
|
The statue at one point was probably worth quite a tidy sum of gold, but the hack job performed upon it has spoiled its value. You could probably get ten or twenty gold for it as a curiosity.
Mikmek smiles at the praise.
"It is as Cervus teaches: Suffer not to live, those who threaten the tribe. "The mites stole this from us nearly a moon-life ago, and since that time we have lived in open war. We have suffered greatly, and the turmoil... has allowed a cancer to grow within us. More later - I will explain all when time permits. The chasm is about twenty tail-lengths deep. I saw nothing save bones."
Nothing that Mikmek said sounds suspicious to Pretty.
Once more Pretty enters scout mode. She draws a dagger and starts to move slowly across the tunnel, 30 ft ahead of the party so their light won't denounce her presence.
"If you wouldn't mind I would like to take a look at that ring if it's okay."
Kivan will see if the ring is magical using detect magic, and also try to appraise how much it could be worth.
Pretty takes a quick look at the ring and passes it to Kivan.
"I recall Svetlana saying something about this ring."
|
|
The ring is non-magical, and is worth around 400gp.
Pretty leads the group forwards through the cramped caverns. At the end of the room the corridor pitches upwards, and doubles back on itself to head upwards. Stooping, you crawl around this bend as it opens up into a larger cavern again.
The wet-looking floor of the cavern is crisscrossed by several shallow trenches, each containing trickles of putrid-looking fluid. The room is haphazardly cluttered with broken beds, chairs, wagon wheels, and an assortment of worn, tattered, dingy, and broken objects that have been clearly salvaged. A row of bookcases stands crookedly propped against the far wall, with 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. Six foul mounds of compost and dung lie heaped about the room, each studded with small spherical eggs.
Huddled in the corner furthest from you are a dozen or so mites. They look like females - smaller and weaker than the mites you've slain, but no less ugly or pathetic. Several of them are holding large centipedes that bear a striking resemblance to the one you fought in the chasm. The mites wave these at you like totems against evil.
Mikmek pushes his way to the front of the line, and unslings his spear.
"You may wish to look away. This will only take a moment."
Pretty speaks in the common tongue, forgetting for a moment Mikmek does not understand it. The tiefling does look sad, but also determined.
"We came here to do this, so we better get on with it."
And so she moves in to help Mikmek.
Idris grimaces and mutters, "This is not a part of the role I ever hope to get used to."
Seraphina puts her hand over her hand over her mouth, eyes confused and hurt when she realizes what the kobold means to do. "Wait! I don't understand... surely they are not a threat to anyone? We would not kill the children of thieves and murderers, why then is this acceptable?" She looked to Pretty and Kivan beseechingly hoping they would convey her words, but already knowing her questions would likely come to nothing.
Her father had warned her to tread carefully when dealing with the fey, and the outright slaughter of the helpless went against her very nature. She knew they had chosen a side in this blood feud, but surely this was a dark and vile act.
|
|
Mikmek was right - it only takes a moment to finish off the mite tribe. The work is unpleasant yet mercifully brief. Leaving the broken remains behind, you collect the bodies of the three slain kobolds and claw your way free from the roots of the enormous sycamore tree.
The sky is appropriately dark to match your mood as you breathe the surface air once more. The sun hangs low in the sky, throwing long shadows and burning the horizon a harsh bloody red.
"That was a rotten piece of work," growls Cassius. "Have fun with the kobolds- I didn't sign up for this crap. I thought we would be exploring the wild, not playing 'choose who to genocide' with a bunch of damn monsters. You can find me at Oleg's, if you need."
Without waiting for a reply, Cassius swings into his saddle and spurs his mount.
As the ranger rides off, Mikmek regards his retreating form. After a moment, he speaks up in common.
"We should camp here for the night. My tribe is not far, but there are certain...obstacles that are best navigated in the light."
A short time later, camp is prepared. The horses graze contentedly as a pot of dried beef rations and root vegetables bubbles merrily on a well-stoked campfire. Mikmek drives his spear into the ground at an angle and sits leaning against it. As the food is served, he begins to talk around mouthfuls of stew.
"I told you I'd lay the situation out when time permits. Well, time permits. We Sootscales live a simple life along the river. We are fishers and miners and farmers. Not what you'd expect from kobolds, right? I know most of my kin are bitter, warlike raiders."
"Well, not us. The first Chief Sootscale, my egg-patron thirty generations previous, received a holy vision from the god Cervus. Lore holds that Cervus, in the guise of a mighy horned elk-man, appeared before the tribe to teach us the ways of settlement. Cervus taught us that planting the seeds of food makes a better harvest than chance-found roots in the dirt. Cervus taught us that the fish of the river may be caught in safety by clever hands. Cervus taught us that where one kobold is weak, many are strong, and that two kobolds in concert may do the work of four at cross-purpose. Under the guidance of Cervus, our bellies grew fat and our egg-broods healthy. To honor Cervus, upon each hatching a great feast was held, and sacrifices burnt. The hatchlings were rubbed with the ash of the fire, and our scales therefore grew dark, instead of bold. Thus we honored Cervus, and for generations we have lived in prosperity."
Mikmek pauses to drink from a waterskin.
"This changed recently with the arrival of our new shaman. He is an outsider - a kobold of purple-hued scales. He names himself Tartuk, and slew the old shaman with cruel magics. He has cowed our Chief, and placed himself in charge of teaching the young. He rails against our worship of Cervus, and argues for the old ways. The last two hatchings, he has forbade the ashing of the hatchlings, and raised these red-scaled young ones to be cruel and vicious. It was by his command that we attacked the mites, and I suspect it was by his hand that our holy statue was stolen. I was one of the few unafraid to speak out against Tartuk, and my rank of master builder made me untouchable. Thus it was that I came to be tasked with this errand. It was to be my end, as it surely would have been had you not arrived. With the statue recovered, I will denounce Tartuk in front of the tribe and see if Cervus watches over the Sootscales still. "
With that, Mikmek lapses into silence and awaits your questions. You notice that his common is spoken in a very formal, almost archaic mannerism.
Pretty watches Maja while she speaks, and then add her own comments. "Might be... Mikmek, how long ago did this purple-scale kobold joined you? What do you know about his story?"
"Oh, I didn't realize you spoke Taldane. That makes it easier. I guess you were wanting our measure before you revealed more about yourself, which I understand. After the experiences we had with some of the red-scaled kobolds, who I guess were like the human bandits we faced recently, we weren't certain what your people were like. But I saw some real steel in you when we faced those mites, and I admire that."
Idris runs her whetstone along her blade, cleaned from the day's work.
"What role do you have as a Master Builder?" she asks Mikmek, after a few minutes meditative stroking of her blade with the stone.
Seraphina watched Cassius ride away with a lump in her throat and tears welling in her eyes, unable to voice any words to call him back.
'He's right... By the powers, what have we done?'
Her eyes full of pain, she looked at Maja as she voiced the same question. She feared that the answer would not soothe the worried look that now furrowed her brow.
Sera's own words to her uncle now came floating back to her from memory, 'You have always said that all it takes for evil to prevail is for good men to do nothing. Tell me then, what about the good women?'
The dusky kobold began to speak in the common tongue, the same language she had demanded answers of him before he committed the act in question and an angry hiss escaped through her teeth. She listened to his explanation with narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw, but she felt the corrosive heat of her temper bubbling up inside and she knew she would not contain it long.
She respected Idris, and so let her have her say, but as soon as she was done, Sera interjected aggressively. "Nor did I suspect you understood us, Mikmek. I want the answers to the questions you ignored once already! We saved your soot-stained scales from that hole that would have been your tomb otherwise. I'd say that means you owe us a debt and not the other way around!" She left her food untouched beside her and stood, advancing on the kobold with the firelight flashing against the metallic gleam of her eyes. The thick mane of her hair flattened against her skull and neck giving her an almost serpentine look to her slender, sinuous body.
"You want to represent your tribe as the good guys in this little tale, and I agree that of the players involved, your people minus this shaman sound like the sort of allies we might favor. But you will know that we are pawns to no one. Now you explain to me why slaying those helpless creatures was necessary, and you had BETTER be convincing, for your own sake, kobold!"
She was surprised to find herself menacing the creature with her own claws, her hands now dappled with copper colored scales and tipped with viscous looking green claws.
Kivan moves in between Sera, and Mikmek when she grows claws.
"While you may not like to hear this, Mikmek did the right thing. We had no way to communicate with those creatures, and we had no way to take care, or arrest them all anyways. They were just as guilty as the ones who attacked us were for the torture, and killings that have happened between the tribes. They may have had only centipedes to defend themselves with, but we shouldn't fight stupid. It was safer for us to kill them when we had the chance. Allowing them to arm themselves would have been foolish, and dangerous. We cannot allow that type of thinking to get in the way of the facts. The mites enjoy murder and torture. While the kobolds may, or may not have started a war with the mites, this is due to a new kobold shaman who isn't representing the normal state of mind for this tribe. We want to offer clemency, and mercy, but we have already seen that these mites wouldn't have been a good addition to a kingdom. This was a disgusting act to be sure, but one that was necessary for the health of the land."
|
|
Mikmek goes pale and gets big eyes as Seraphina confronts him. He looks from her claws to her face and then back, and swallows hard. He stammers out a couple false starts when Kivan comes to his rescue. After the elf speaks his piece, Mikmek has composed himself enough to be coherent.
"It is as the Elf says. I confess, it was our tribe that struck the first blow in the war. We had mounted an expedition to the patch of Moon Radishes that grows to the north and west, and came upon the mites feasting upon them before us. A few scouts of ours slipped into the patch and retrieved enough radishes for a seed crop, and we returned home with hope of cultivating them. Our Grower was unable to make seed bear fruit. Moon Radishes are important to us, they nourish the hatchlings and store well over winter. With the mites in possession of the patch, it was easy for Tartuk to spark our longings into the open flame of conflict. A force of red-scaled youth was sent to the Moon Radish patch and fell upon the mites they found there. Since then, the patch has changed hands many times, and the conflict spread to other locations. We had no love of mites, nor they of us, and thus the fire burned deep. No treaty could undo what each had done to the other. This was, unfortunately, the only way to end the war. They would have done the same to us."
"I am indeed in your debt, O Lords of Yourselves, as is the Sootscale tribe. I do not intend you as pawns! You came to the mite's lair on your own motives, and I have promised you silver in repayment for your deeds on my behalf. To see Tartuk cast down would click my scales, but I am not luring you there on my behalf. With the statue of Cervus restored, I am hopeful that the tribe can be turned against him."
"I have kept secrets withheld, yes, but only as prudent for the safety of myself and the Sootscales." Mikmek looks pointedly at Seraphina's transformed hands. "I know I am not the only one to ever leave matters unmentioned."
"It may be so. I will listen to you speak about your Erastil. I am not a scholar of the Skies Beyond the Sky, but I know enough that a god may appear in many forms as suits them. Following the creed told to us has resulted in plenty; the belly-fire and angry claw of the old ways has brought us ruin."
"Tartuk arrived twenty-five moon-lifes ago, alone. We are cautious about revealing our ways, and shammed the stranger with tribal displays as he would expect. Tartuk declared that he had arrived as a messenger from the dragon gods to lead us to glory. When our shaman demurred and shew him our faith, Tartuk struck him down with dark magic that sapped his strength and caused rime to frost his scales, then broke his neck before the tribe and took up his mantle. Since then he has cowed us, favored the strongest warriors to build his power, and now raises the hatchlings in the old ways."
"I am the best-read in the Sootscale tribe. From an early age I took learning from the scrolls of our kind. When Sootscales find books or scrolls in the field, they bring them to me. I have studied the works of the great engineers: Harpalus of Taldor, Ammom of Ustalav, Philos of Cheliax. Thus I know how to place a plank of wood to bear weight, to sink solid footings for bridges, to direct the flow of water for use. With the trap-setting lore of my kind, I know how to devise methods of defense. As Master Builder, I direct my tribe in the proper construction of whatever we require."
Idris is surprised when Seraphina unsheathes her claws. "Gorum's balls, Sera, is that a spell? Or did you always have those and I never noticed?"
Idris listens to Mikmek, nodding slowly, thinking over what he has said.
"I don't think Mikmek would face Tartuk alone Maja, I believe he is counting with, if not asking for, our help. I trust his words, and I think we should move swiftly to kill Tartuk. He did use filthy magic on the previous shaman, right? So why should we give him a chance to do the same, putting our lives and the peaceful kobolds in danger?"
Seraphina tries to blink back angry tears as Kivan defends the kobold's actions. "I trust your council, Kivan, that is why I agreed to come here. And I can see now from the items we recovered that the mites were a threat to this land and the good people in it, but there are some lines that we must not cross, my friends." She shakes her head sadly.
"Even the bandits that killed my father and brothers left my mother and the young ones with their lives! Why should we even bother to route the bastards if we will only devolve to their level or worse? Slaughter of the defenseless, is indeed disgusting. And I am disgusted!" She glares again at the little kobold, her eyes now filled more with shame and disappointment than fury.
"We kill out of necessity to make these lands safe again. Not because it is easier and more convenient to destroy a people outright than worry that they might bring yet some future conflict against us. How would you like it if we looked upon your tribe with the same cold logic, your females and hatchlings reduced to unknown variables on a balance sheet that we must calculate to our favor? Wrong does not become right simply because we decide it is the fastest way to win."
Seraphina regarded her claws in the firelight. Holding one hand up and letting everyone see them fully. She felt lightened somehow, unburdened of her secret that had sewn her so full of fear and doubt in the recent past.
"Like most of my talents, they just seem to come to me. These usually only when I'm very angry, or afraid. I'm sorry I did not mention them before. I think I kept hoping I dreamed them, or that they would go away just as suddenly as they came." She flexed her fingers and exhaled and her hands resumed their more mundane, delicate appearance.
She admonished the dusky kobold one last time, "If you wish an alliance with us, you must be better than simply the lesser of two evils, Mikmek. Trust is essential, and feigning ignorance at my words was not a good start. Do not think I will be placated with silver. I will support your goals, but only because I believe this Cervus is the righteous path for your people, and their only hope for a future here. These lands will not be safe for a raiding, war-making tribe... we will see to that." She holds Mikmek's gaze sternly and then nods when she sees he has heard her and returns to her seat, picking at her meal and looking longingly in the direction Cassius rode away.
|
|
Location: Hex E6 (plains; The Old Sycamore)
Temperature: 45° F
Weather conditions: Clear skies, sunny, light wind from southwest (no modifiers)
Dawn comes bright yet chilly as you rise the next morning. After breakfast, you undergo the camp-breaking ritual of rolling, packing, and lashing all your material posessions on the back of your horses.
Mikmek pipes up: "The Sootscale home is about a day's journey by foot to the southeast. Riding will shorten that time. May I ride upon one of your steeds? I am eager to leave this place behind."
If he tries anything, my hide is a protections the others don't have.
"Sure, Mikmek, come ride with me."
Pretty was trying her best to forget all the conversation about what happened yesterday. Hopefully it was a one time job, now let's keep life moving. She finishes packing up and wait for the others.
"So, have we decided on a course of action? Are we coming up and having a little talk? I think the purple-scaled will them to attack us on sight, telling something like Mikmek betrayed them, or whatever."