"Nakpik! Good to see you again, scaly brother!"
"Yes, let us speak to Mikmek."
Pretty is impressed by the learning of Sera. She raises a thumb to her, and let the others do the talking.
"Bara, would you keep an eye on Auchs and our horses? This may take a bit longer than I'd planned. Auchs, you can have a snack and rest while you wait for us to talk with our friends here. We shouldn't be too long."
- "I see! Yes, I think Mikmek will want to hear our news. Please let the Chief know we have arrived as well, if he has time to see us. Tell us how you and your people have fared since last we saw you, Nakpik? Well, I hope. Has anything interesting been going on?" Sera smiled and chatted with the kobold cheerfully on the way to see Mikmek and/or Chief Sootscale.
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Bara nods silently to Seraphina's request, swinging down off her horse to sit in the shade her mount affords. She eyes Nakpik warily, and starts cleaning under her nails with a stiletto. Auchs doesn't seem to be paying attention to what's going on, clutching a pewter knight in one meaty hand and a wooden dragon in the other.
Nakpik seems in good cheer as he leads you to the Sootscale cave, helpfully pointing out where not to step and what not to touch as you ascend the steep cliffside path by the river. There are several hazards that have been installed since your last visit, including one of which Nakpik seems to have been unaware, as he blunders into it. The kobold warrior sets foot on a rock that should have been safe, but slides freely off the cliff with a nearly invisible copper wire trailing behind. Before he can react, a small snick sounds and a bird's egg, wrapped around with wire, whips off the hilltop above and mashes into Nakpik's face in a tiny explosion of shell and yolk. Nakpik gasps in surprise, then puts on a big show of exaggerated irritation for the benefit of an unseen observer and continues on more warily. Despite the prank, he smiles in the peculiar reptilian way of the kobolds, the edges of his scaled muzzle turned up.
"That was from Seek-Seek," he beams. "I think she likes me. Lots of things happening, Chief says we have big plans now that you Self-Lords are around!"
Nakpik exchanges curt nods with the pair of kobolds on guard in the entrance to the old mine, one of which loops the correct noose around the correct rock to to disarm the wards guarding the cramped passage further into the kobold warren.
The Sootscale caves are much as you left them: Dark, smokey, and a little dank. As Nakpik leads you through the twisting passages towards Mikmek's workshop, you notice that the kobold tribe is in a state of high activity. At several points, new tunnels are under construction. One kobold at a time takes point and attacks the dirt with a wood and stone pickaxe, while others form a bucket brigade to relay wicker baskets full of excavation spoils to wherever they're being dumped. A previously little-used side passage has been completely filled with straw, and a great many pelts are stretched to tan and cure over fires. Prominent among the squirrel and raccoon pelts is a magnificent bear skin.
You find Mikmek amid a scene of incredible mess. The furniture has been pushed to the edges of his lair to make room for several complex assemblies of wood and bamboo. Two large, spoked wheels have been constructed, secured to an axle with wooden keys in wooden keyways. Planks radiate from the axle between the two wheels, cleverly jointed together and secured to the wheels by copper wire windings. Two slabs of stone have been chiseled into circular shapes as well. Their centers have been marked by lines drawn across their diameters in several places, and small dimples hammered into the spot where the lines converge. Assemblies of planks that look solid and structural in nature litter the floor. A pile of wood chips sits by the fire pit, and a large diagram neatly inked with black walnut has been hung from one of the bookshelves. It appears that Mikmek is building a water wheel.
It is amid this chaos that you find Mikmek. The kobold engineer stands dressed in a pocket-bedecked leather apron, leaning backwards with his clawed hands on his hips to stretch out his back. Dark circles under his eyes and stacks of ignored or picked-at meals on the table attest to many long sessions of construction. A handful of books lie on the table as well: Applications of Physical Theory to Industry, On The Works of the River, and A Treatise Concerning the Works of Aenseer the Clever. Mikmek yawns and bows slightly as you enter.
"Greetings, Lords of Your Selves," he says tiredly. "I apologize for the mess. What brings you to me today?"
Jegred and Sicarius stand a little bit awkwardly next to Maja, unclear as to their relationship with the kobolds.
After Maja speaks to the kobold, Jegred introduces himself and Sicarius.
Seraphina raised her eyebrows and whispered conspiratorially low to Nakpik in "Oh! Is the nesting season approaching? What do the Sootscale females look for in a fellow anyway? If it's not rude of me to ask?" She glanced around, smiling and nodding in reply to any kobolds who met her gaze, looking for a sign of which might be Seek-Seek.
She gave Jegred a reassuring smile, her manner with the kobolds was easy, familiar and friendly.
When they arrived at Mikmek's, she bowed in return and addressed him in "Greetings, Master Builder. We bring news, the most important of which is that the Stag Lord's reign has ended. We have delivered him and the majority of his bandit force to the grave. There is one company left that might try and retake their holdings, but we expect to deal with them as well when we locate them. For now, the place stands abandoned."
"I would like to stay and chat longer, but we want to return to those who worry over us. So I will go on to my next news, we have spoken with our human allies and begun the process of trading and setting the groundwork for a long future of being good neighbors. You might not be surprised to hear that they have some concerns over a kobold settlement and so a gentleman friend has requested that he visit to see for himself your uniquely peaceful tribe. I thought advance notice of this visit would be appreciated."
"Mikmek, I wish I could say you look well, but harried is more like it. You look as though you've been on double work shifts with half the nourishment and sleep necessary. I don't want to trouble you overmuch, but I had also hoped to speak with you on a more personal note. Perhaps that should wait until I can return and we all have more time."
Pretty is paying attention to the wheel and learning how to do it.
"Yes, we destroyed them, with the aid of three new allies, two of whom you see here. We also recovered some stolen goods, and we can probably provide the price they promised you for your silver, even! Not that their debts are ours, but so that you may enjoy a portion of the fruits of our victory."
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Nakpik flushes and nods at Seraphina, but clams up. None of the kobolds you see on the way in pay special attention to Nakpik, so you deduce that Seek-Seek must have been in hiding somewhere she could see her trap go off.
Mikmek smiles tiredly at your victory and trophies and leans against his table. "Well done!" he chirps. "That was a group of powerful foes over which we could never have hoped to triumph. Revenge aside, it serves my plans as well."
Mikmek gestures to the mess around him, touching a claw to his snout in acknowledgement of Maja's compliment. "Our Chief has tasked me with providing means for mechanical work. Grinding food, for one. We expect a strong clutch of eggs this season - the omens are good. We are sadly depleted from our conflicts with both your foes and the mites, and so lack the claws needed to handle such a burden. Mechanical help will be our ace through the sleeve."
Not noticing that he bungled the Common saying, Mikmek turns to his blueprints and points here and there with a claw. "My books treat grinding grains and nuts as commonplace, but we spend much effort on that. If a rope or chain were to be fastened to the main axle, it could be used to drag a cart - or an elevator. I think it would be possible to make a mechanical hammer for forging - with a pear-shaped shaft to hit a mounted hammer. The possibilities are tantalizing."
"But, " he continues, "Not all of the Sootscales share my enthusiasm. They point out that this structure could hardly be hidden, which is true. I am attempting to convince the Council that with you Lords around we will have no further need of hiding, but it goes against much of who we are. Yatpank in particular is unconvinced, but so is Ell-Ell the Fish-seer and Hokmak the Spear. Once I show results I hope for their hearts to change."
Mikmek nods as you tell him he should have helpers. "Yes, I should. Sadly I must wait for the next Hatching to find apprentices. Our hatchlings are watched closely for aptitude while their egg-tooth remains, and our paths set by same. I passed my Test of the Pit by building a ladder, and so found my vocation set and learned from old Spur-Spur before she died. It is a snake-eating-tail problem: I must provide for the Hatching to gain workers, but provision requires this labor. So, I endure. It is the same with our shamans. Tartuk killed our old shaman, and this will be our first Hatching since. We will look for aptitude and gift our holy text to the softscale best suited. One," Mikmek smiles, "That will surely seek you out."
Mikmek nods at Idris. "I will ask the Council, but we have plenty of silver for ourselves. We had bartered for goods with your foe, who showed his nature as betrayer to us."
Mikmek seems amenable to chatting with Seraphina. "I could use a walk. If I have to calculate one more 'moment of flexation' my tail will fall off."
Kivan will look around for any ink he can take and use to scribe a spell into his spellbook. Then if he finds any ink he will scribe into his spellbook Cat's Grace and then as payment attempt to solve the problem of the waterwheel while Mikmek is gone.
Sera grinned shamelessly over having embarrassed the young kobold, "Oh, my apologies. I simply assumed that if she's hurling eggs at your face, it must be serious." She chuckled to herself mischievously, and winked at Nakpik.
Seraphina marveled over the complex looking machinery, switching back to common for the benefit of all.
"Is this meant to harness the power of the river? Brilliant! Perhaps you could satisfy everyone by building the above ground structures to resemble a human settlement while the Sootscale village remains concealed? Personally, I support your efforts to boldly build your structures without constraint. But too much progress too quickly can make people feel anxious about the future, so I understand the trepidation. I look forward to seeing what you create, Master Builder. Tell us what we can do to help! What were the goods your tribe was owed?"
Sera graciously accepted Mikmek's offer, strolling alongside the dusky kobold as she spoke in low tones. "I've done much thinking on the reading you provided me with and I have reached a conclusion that I wanted your opinion on. As my powers advance, I appear to be developing more and more draconic traits." She glanced around for watching eyes and then lifted her hair off her neck, showing the coppery scales there.
"I believe I have a metallic dragon in my ancestry and that is the source of my sorcerous powers, even though Brevoy history might suggest that a Red might be more likely. Do you agree? If so, I was hoping you might have some information on metallic dragons. I wish to learn more about my ancestor."
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"That is an idea I had not considered," muses Mikmek thoughtfully, chewing on a claw. "It could be weathered and have the appearance of age and disrepair, much like the bridge to the north. That might ease suspicion and win some allies in the Council. If I extend the footprint by three tail-lengths in each direction, that would leave room for a facade. Planks could be aged by soaking in a water and moss mixture... forgive me, I'm thinking out loud. As for the goods we were promised by the Horned one, it was mostly worked steel. As I mentioned before, we Sootscales lack the knowledge to forge our own metal."
Kivan is able to find many different kinds of ink, satisfying his need of scribing supplies.
Mikmek is using some odd units. Pressure seems to be measured in "jumps per square tail length", among other things. Recalling your early days of study, you estimate the characteristics of Mikmek's designs based on standard units. Mikmek's done good work so far. There are some areas where he evidently ran into difficulties with design and simply worked around his problems by adding supports and reinforcements until the structures would surely hold. Not the most elegant of designs, but it will serve. For an entirely self-taught lizard living in an old silver mine, it's an impressive effort. The one serious flaw you find is in the design of the gears and axles required to transmit the river's power to useful machinery. The forces will simply be too great for wooden components to withstand. It doesn't take you very long at all to rectify matters. Changing a nailed support to a simple friction bearing surface eliminates a reaction and constraint from the free-structure diagram, turning the framework of the wheel housing from a frustrating case of static indeterminacy into a much simpler problem and more elegant design. The gears and transmission would all work to current specs if made of wrought iron, so the question there is one of supply and not design. You briefly work through the calculations required to redesign the axle out of wood - it should be a sufficient enough start for the clever kobold to learn from.
Mikmek whistles, his eyes widening at your ongoing transformation. "You did not have these before, did you? If I may - " Mikmek reaches out to touch your scales. "Solid, and firm like those of an adult. Not softscales as a hatchling has. Definitely copper in tone." The kobold thinks for some moments before continuing. "When first you arrived here, I used my flute to make a signal, which you asked me about. You said to me you had 'never heard its like before'. There was much on my mind at the time and I missed that - the flutes can only be heard by one with dragon's blood in their veins. It is a craft that our Wood-Sages pass to each other. If you truly hear these flutes, I would put your ancestry as certain, not speculation. Yatpank practices strong sorcery, as do you. His magic-craft would not lie any more than yours." Mikmek looks at you with a hint of a smile dancing about his eyes. "Tell me, do you feel the urge to make a large pile of gold and sleep on it?" He becomes more somber and continues. "I owe you enough that I would give you my copy of the Draconomicon. It would sadden me to see it leave my collection, but I can think of no more fitting a gift for you."
From the Draconomicon, author unknown:
"Leaft among the DRAGONS of Metal are thofe Named by the Sages as CUPROUS - COPPER in the Bafe Tongue. Where the DRAGON of Nobility is Gold, and Knightly Silver, the Copper DRAGON Embodies Wit. A Copper Delights in Contefts of Intelekt and Trickery, being an Eafy Avenue for the Wyrm to Difplay its Prowess. The Copper does not Maraud nor Predate upon Humanity, and may be Encountered without Fear. Should some Offence be Made upon One, the DRAGON may be Placated by a Riddle or Jape. Certain Coppers are Known Delight'd by Humor and Buffoonery, as Jefters of DRAGON-KIND.
Copper Wyrms Nest by Habit within Labyrinths, which Confound and Dazzle Those who Wish to Intrude. As with all DRAGON-KIND, Coppers Luft for Gold and Wealth, yet Guard it not Jealoufly - and will Entertain Vifitors. Along-fide Wyrms of Brass, Coppers will Seek out Leffer Company for Entertainment.
The Copper does not Spoil for Battle, and will Generally Abftain from Such Acts. Should the Need for Defenfe Arife, or Battle Preffed upon Them, the Copper Wyrm will Conteft its Foes with Claw and Tooth as all DRAGON-KIND. The Breath of the Copper Wyrm is Acid, which Corrodes Away all Material unto Corruption."
Idris takes notes on what amounts of iron are needed for the mechanisms, and will make a point to order them from Restov next time they return to Oleg's. (If the kobolds want to upgrade to iron, that is.)
Seraphina barks a laugh at Mikmek's query about her sleeping habits,
"I cannot say I have felt such an urge, but then again I have not seriously considered it. I cannot thank you enough for the gift, I promise I will take good care of it and study it well. I will endeavor to return with some much less rare, but hopefully useful tomes for your library, Mikmek. I suppose subjects like engineering and farming would be timely?"
"You mentioned the flutes and reminded me, could I possibly buy or trade for one. It seems like it might be a handy tool for finding other dragon-kind."
Sera marveled at how closely the description of her Copper scaled kin lined up with her own personality. She had always expected that her sense of humor had come from her father, who was always quick to laugh himself. But then perhaps he had shown some aspects of the dragon as well? She told her kobold friend of how the scales had appeared more and more over the past weeks. "I have had some powers since before I was fully grown, but I used them only sporadically. It has only been since I came here to the Greenbelt that I have been using them so often, every day nearly. That must be the difference, why these changes happen so quickly now. Do you think that calling on the power of my blood is slowly turning me into a dragon?"
Once that business is done, she'll inquire again if they should see the chief, (wouldn't want to cause offense) in which case she would deliver the same news about the end of the Stag Lord and that she will return with Kesten Garess, who wants to meet them.
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Mikmek thinks for a second before answering. "I do not know. Each Sootscale's flute is made with a fragment of their own egg. I must confess my ignorance of magical matters - I will ask Yatpank when next he returns. Likewise to your changing nature, such knowledge is beyond me. If true, I envy you." The tired little kobold looks wistful. "To soar amongst the clouds, command great physical force, and fear none at all must be a terrific life."
Mikmek's musings are interrupted by the shrill sound of a Sootscale flute playing a discordant note. Mikmek freezes, then quickly retrieves his own flute and plays the same harsh note. From all around you in the warren, you hear the note repeated, growing fainter as it spreads away. Mikmek looks grim. "That is how we spread an alarm. Some sort of trouble on the surface!"
You are amusing yourselves or investigating Mikmek's workshop when you notice Nakpik, the sentry, stiffen suddenly. He draws his intricate flute from a leather sheathe, plays it silently, then draws his spear and rushes out of the room towards the entrance of the caves.
"Trouble, self-lords!"
Pretty's eyes narrow as the kobold mention trouble, and she is ready to move in a heartbeat.
"Lead the way, Nakpik!"
Kivan looks at the others.
"Apparently the kobolds have a problem right now."
Kivan then follows the kobold as he leads the group to wherever this problem is.
"Trouble? What sort?" Idris seems excited by the prospect of battle. She unsheathes her sword and takes her bow in the other hand as she rushes through the tunnels after Nakpik.
Despite his brief encounters with the kobolds, Jegred had started to like the little guys and at this sign of trouble, he perked up.
As the group started to make speed towards this new danger, Jegred seconds Idris' question with a inquisitive look, before casting a quick spell of protection on himself.
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Following Nakpik, you rush through the Sootscale warren towards the entrance. The caverns, formerly bustling with activity, have gone nearly silent as the tribe goes to ground as part of their sneaky nature. Arriving at the guard post, you find it buttoned up tight. Chief Sootscale and a gang of kobold warriors stand armed and at the ready in the inner chamber, while sentries peek through peepholes into the gloom of the mine entrance.
Chief Sootscale doesn't look surprised to see you, presumably having been notified of your approach. "Greetings again, noble ones. Your two new warriors have had a quarrel over the boat-man. It is best that you deal with the situation."
Chief Sootscale orders the door opened with a rapid-fire series of silent gestures, then details Nakpik and four other warriors to accompany you as you exit the mine. Nakpik rounds them up with his eyes and they fall into a loose formation behind you. The lighter-scaled kobold pushes a lever disguised as a tree root, and a solid slab of rock rumbles upward to allow you out.
As your eyes adjust to the sunlight from the relative gloom of the kobold warren, you take stock of the situation. At the bottom of the path stands Bara, her blade in a low ready position. In the shallows by the river's edge stands a bare-chested and impressively muscled man with unkempt hair and a pleasantly handsome face. He stands next to a riverboat heavily laden with crates, barrels, and bundles. The boat is a typical flat-bottomed barge used by river traders, and its well-worn frame is painted a fading red. The boat is preceded up the river by a harnessed mule, who has taken the stop as an opportunity to graze on the soft grasses at the river's edge. A wooden beam projects from the side of the boat, to allow the man to add his strength to the boat's upstream progress. The man stands clear of the beam at the moment, with water rushing past his knees and splattering onto his plain woolen trousers. He holds an Aldori dueling sword in an artful two-handed stance, ready to defend himself.
Between Bara and the boatman lies Auchs, crumpled to the ground and unmoving with a vicious slash across his shoulder, neck, and back. A thin rivulet of blood drips from Bara's falchion.
The boatman flicks his eyes to you and the kobolds as you appear. "Ware!" he hisses to Bara, returning his attention to her and holding his stance.
"Do you know that human, Chief? Looks like he thinks himself a duelist, but I doubt he's had any training."
"Come on, then, Auchs is hurt, and I'm not sure what happened there," Idris calls to the rest of the group, heading down the path as quickly as she can safely.
Kivan walks down the path slowly so as to not appear rushed.
"Would anyone care to explain why Auchs is bleeding, and you two look like your going to fight?"
Seraphina rushed to rejoin the others and see about this trouble, somehow sure Bara and Auchs would be involved.
Sera noticed something out of the corner of her eye, but tried to play it off as if she didn't, addressing the chief instead.
"And greetings to you, Chief Sootscale. My apologies for the trouble, we will resolve it as best we can." She turns to Nakpik "Did you see what happened?"
She strolled down slowly and calmly behind Kivan, her hands looking human again and both of them seemingly unarmed.
"Bara, please tell us what has gone awry here."
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The boatman seems confused that the kobolds are accompanied by humans and demihumans, and aren't rushing to throw spears at him. Your peaceful demeanor seems to reassure him, and he stands up out of his intricate fighting position and lets his blade dangle by his side, although still gripped in his hand.
"Well now, that was quite a bit unpleasant, wasn't it?" he chuckles, nervously. His voice is rich and melodic, rising above the constant churning of the river's waters and echoing off the cliff face. His mule flicks an ear at a persistent fly. "Guy de Aldifierri, at your service. I expect you've heard the name?" The boatman looks from face to face, doesn't see any recognition, and looks slightly crestfallen. "Well, that guy knew of me... in a way."
Bara also drops her guard, wiping her falchion on the grass. "We saw the approach of this man. Auchs seemed to know who he is - but he did not call him by that name. Auchs yelled about "Ciceran" and charged. I stopped him."
Guy grimaces. "I knew that Irovitti cared not for that role, but I didn't imagine to be attacked for it! I must commend you on your muscle - she is most efficient!"
Unfortunately for Auchs, Maja's healing comes too late. Bara's blow severed his spinal cord just below the neck. It was a ruthlessly effective strike: Auchs probably never knew he was injured before the lights turned out.
The kobolds wait for translations to respond to Seraphina. "It is as the orc says," affirms a young red-scaled warrior. "The large one got angry and ran at the boat-man. The orc slew him to prevent harm to the boat-man."
You get the feeling that Bara is being truthful, but not revealing every detail.
Pretty moves ahead of everyone else, confident on her ability to dodge the traps, if any of them got activated. She let the others do the talking, but stays alert when coming close to the half-Orc.
Regret and confusion creased Sera's brow as she saw that Auchs would not be salvaged after all. She sighed deeply, crossing her arms in front of her and then turned her attention to Bara and the newcomer.
She considered what the man had said and shook her head in disbelief, "Do you mean to say he recognized you from a role in a play and mistook you for a character you portrayed?"
She turned to Bara, some of her anger beginning to seep through to color her words to the half-orc. "And I suppose dispatching him to the Boneyard was your only hope of stopping him? It simply wasn't possible to hobble him instead?" Her eyes flashed, darting between the boatman and the assassin, before seeking out Maja and holding her gaze significantly enough to let her know she was suspicious of this situation and wanted her input. "Do you two know each other?"
Remembering how the last time he doubted Bara went, Jegred tries to approach the situation as delicately as possible.
" That's all that happened then Bara?
Addressing the boatman, " Does that name mean anything to you?"
"So he went after the boatman, and you killed him? That doesn't make sense. Who's this guy to you that you'd kill Auchs to protect him?"
Weirdly or not, Pretty stay silent and still, watching the circus. If she finds no traps in her way, she approaches the man on the boat, just an excuse to peek into his cargo.
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Bara's eyes flash dangerously as you assail her with questions. "Yes, that is exactly what happened, Idris. I am aware of who Aldifierri is, but he will not know me. He performs mostly in Pitax, to the west. His name was on the handbills posted while I was stalking a target some years ago. The play was "Magnificent", in the Thirty Leagues Theater, and Aldifierri had the role of mortal Cayden Calien. You will recall the brick which fell from the ceiling and crushed a particular nobleman's son. That was not an accident."
Guy beams winningly at the knowledge that somebody here has heard of him. When Bara mentions the play, the boatman-actor strikes a wobbly pose and gestures with his sword, slurring a few lines. "Yet though thish misht hast fogg'd my mind alone/I musht sheek out the temple of thish Shtone!" Bara speaks over him to mention her kill of that night, wiping the smile off of Guy's face. "Your, uh, guard, has the right of it. I have not met her before - fortunately!"
Bara continues, pointing at Jegred. "Consider how you fared against Auchs in open battle. Would you have me face the same, for the sake of his life? Auchs attacked this man in a rage like a dog, and I put him down as such - efficiently, painlessly, and preserved the life of a passer-by. There's your honor, cleric!" Bara whirls to face Maja. Her voice lowers. "Or would you have preferred to find this man dead, for my failure to act? I will not be held responsible for Auch's inability to distinguish an actor from his role!"
When Idris asks what Aldifierri means to Bara, she snorts and hefts her sword. "Not a damned thing. I could kill him for you to prove the point, should you desire!"
At that, the boatman shrinks backwards a bit. "If I have a vote in the matter, I, uh, would prefer you take her at her word? And, uh, is nobody but me concerned about those kobolds?"
The mule flicks its ears and urinates into the stream.
Pretty can see that the boat is heavily laden with parcels and crates. Oilskin covers have been fastened over most of the cargo, obscuring its identity.
" I mean no offense Bara, but I fail to see how an unarmed and unarmored man, despite his strength, could pose such a threat that you would employ lethal force at the first opportunity. Yes, he was a difficult match with magic at his back, but without his magical aids, it would not have been close. Yet that is of no matter now; the man-child is dead and we can't do anything about it."
Jegred shows his palms at Bara, as a form of showing that he bares no ill-will towards the half-orc. While he is saddened by the death of the curious man, Jegred is well-versed in the circle of life, and knows that if you live by violence, it's only a matter of time before you die by violence.
Pretty tilts closer to the man. "Oh, finally a good question! Where are you going, sir?"
"Maja is right. The mistake is ours... We should not have left Auchs unguarded. Clearly he was unstable as well as diminished in his capacity to understand."
Her expression was more hurt and disappointed than angry when she turned to Bara again,
"I suppose I should be more mindful of your limited skill set in the future? I had hoped you were capable of showing some restraint, but killing in order to defend life is, at least, a step in the right direction. Auchs was a hardened killer, I cannot fault you for your swift action when a bystander's life was endangered. But Maja is right, you need to master your murderous instincts. You could have subdued him had you chosen to do so, but for whatever reason, you did not." Her raised eyebrows suggested she did not believe Bara had been worried for her own survival, even against the massive Auchs, but she sighed again and gave up her chiding, turning to the nervous thespian instead.
"Please be at ease, Master Aldifierri. The kobolds are friends and Bara knows full well we would never suggest she harm you. My name is Seraphina Medvyed and you have my most sincere apologies for the trouble. You are not harmed, I take it?" She extends her (human) hand to the man and does her best to smile warmly despite the circumstances.
"Bara... we'll talk more about this later. I see that you were acting quickly, to prevent Auchs from killing the man, and in truth, while a program of education and giving him an outlet for his violence could have helped him, he was still a vicious, angry, simple man."
To the boatman, Idris says, "I've heard some of the less civilized kobolds have been problems in the past, but these fellows are peaceful, and our friends. Might be worth trading with, if you have goods to trade."
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Bara's eyes narrow as Seraphina takes her jab at the assassin's skills. It appears to have stung, just as you expected. Bara evidently has nothing with which to reply as she holds he tongue and the conversation shifts to the boatman.
"No, quite unharmed!" says Aldifierri, graciously accepting Seraphina's proffered hand and giving it a hearty shake. His grip is strong but controlled, and rough with the callouses of hard labor. He gives you a handsome (and obviously practiced) smile. "I feel as though I've walked into a play, myself! Combat! Mystery! Savage beasts! And a beautiful lady of a noble House gallivanting in the wilds with her kobold minions!" He shakes his head and laughs ruefully. "I'm headed upstream to Restov, from my home of Mivon. No trade goods have I, being a mere courier. I have neither the patience nor skill for the cut-and-parry of negotiations - much simpler to just move stuff!"
It is common knowledge that the city-state of Mivon, situated south of the Stolen Lands where two branches of the East Sellen River merge together, was formed in the wake of Choral the Conqueror's victorious campaign of unification in Rostland and Issia. Not all of Rostland's Swordlords thought that fighting was a good idea. A significant number of them chose instead to flee the country and re-establish themselves elsewhere, beyond Choral's grasp. Those that remained were crushed by Choral's forces, and the survivors harbored bitter enmity towards those who had relocated, blaming them for the defeat. An objective military analysis would show that since the Swordlords were defeated primarily due to Choral's red dragons, the sheer number of blades on the ground was irrelevant. The Mivonese descendants live today with the generations-old shame of their forefathers hanging over them. Calling a Mivonese swordlord a "Brevoy Bird" is a sure way to start a fight. The two populations now both carry on the traditions of the Aldori in their separate realms.
post abbreviated due to lack of time, will edit in a few
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Aldifierri continues: "As you surely know, many families were split asunder by the departure of the Mivonese Aldori. Blood runs true, even after all these years, so families like to keep in touch. Some mail, some parcels, and odds and ends that a merchant wants to send over. Not a lot of trade, but enough for a few boatloads a year. Noble types pay enough that it keeps me in bread, leaves me free to perform the rest of the year! Doesn't hurt towards keeping me in shape, either."
Guy flexes for your benefit. He is indeed quite fair of form. "Someday I hope to find a noble patron like any other actor of note has. Being Mivonese hurts me pretty badly in Brevoy, and there's no theater of note in Mivon. Pitax was good for awhile, but Irovitti started to take displeasure with me, and a smart man gets while the getting's good, with that one!. So here I am. Me, and Callie." Guy gestures to his placid beast of burden.
Seraphina blinked a few times in quick succession, a bit taken aback by the suggestion she was "gallivanting" when they stood within spitting distance of a freshly slain corpse. But she only gave the man a tight smile in response to his attempt at levity.
"Ah, I have written to distant family recently myself. Trust me when I say you bear precious cargo. Words from a longed for loved one are beyond price.
I must confess, I have not enjoyed the luxury of a theatrical performance in some time. If we were not in the middle of a journey ourselves, I might ask you to grace us with a soliloquy."
Kivan simply sits back not wanting to touch this conversation with a ten foot pole.