Tassidar follows behind Halla.
"Yes, but we must chose the correct side. Oh my gosh, this place is so . . . Unclear. A misstep could be . . . Oh well, I can't just stand aside if innocents are under attack."
The elf tries to puzzle out what is happening, whom is the true aggressor.
Knute looks at the scene in confusion. "Those are leaf leshies, little creatures usually created by druids or other magic-users. There could be a fey nearby." After a moment he says, "I agree we should be cautious; we could as easily create a foe as gain a friend. But it at least merits a closer look."
With that the ranger starts after Halla. He pauses to scan the scene again, focusing on the oak, looking for some sign of any watching fey.
Kló frowns after the raven-headed woman. ”I can’t see that, but it would be nice to make a friend here.”
He moves forward, his long strides helping him easily outdistance the shorter woman. As he moves, he nods to Knute’s words, ”He’s right. They’re usually made to tend a garden.”
”HO THE GARDEN!” he yells out, ”WE CAN HELP! WHAT IS HAPPENING?”
Halla, Tassidar, Kló, and Knute all start towards the garden. Rikka and Stirgen hurry after.
Tassidar's eyes are quite keen, as are Knute's.
As you draw closer, you all can see that the little mobbing figures appear to be rats-- large rats, as big as any you've ever seen get into the grain or scurry around fat in the rafters out of the cat's reach. Furthermore, you can all see the occasional... patch of color, a bright red or yellow or blue, which is surely not the normal coloring of rats.
The rats leave the body of the one leshy that has dropped. Some split off towards the other two; the others converge in a little knot near the front of the garden, doing... something.
There is no verbal response to Kló's shout, though the nearer leshy looks your way and waves its tiny limbs in an agitated fashion.
As he moves, he nods to Knute’s words, ”He’s right. They’re usually made to tend a garden.”
"And rats do not garden," Halla points out of to the elf coolly, "at least not in the North. Do you welcome them like songbirds in the gardens where you come from?"
As he runs towards the scene, the big pale-haired man yells in a language none of you know, one with deep guttural phrasings.
One of the plant-persons look up at this, its weird fleshy head turning your way and a split opening in lieu of a mouth. The creature answers in the same weird tongue that Klo spoke (albeit more highly-pitched). "අපට උදව් කරන්න, ලෝක-සේවකයා! අපි හොරු විසින් පහර දෙනවා!"
Halla draws her sickle as she approaches, glancing at Kló to see if he will pass on the plant-creature's message.
"These . . . Rodents? Aren't mere rats, some are wearing hats and articles of clothing, but it does appear they are putting vegetables in sacks."
”The leshies request our help from the rat-thieves,” Kló translates. Then he switches back to the Auld tongue, shouting back to the leshies as he continues his approach.
”ඔබ අප ඔබ වෙනුවෙන් කරන දේ සිදුවිය හැකි ද? අපි ඔබේ ඩොමේන් ඇතුළු කිරීමට අවසර තිබේ ද?”
Knute hurries to catch up with the others. "It looks like there's a door in the oak," he says to the group, "the leshies' creator may be watching from there."
He pulls out his bow as he continues moving, but Tassidar's words make him hesitate to fire. Knute looks uneasy as he asks, "'Not mere rats'? Can we communicate with them, then? Scare them off instead of killing them?"
Just another reminder that things aren't simple here...
Kló, you're pretty sure rats don't speak a language!! What a silly question! Nah, you've never heard of rats wearing clothes, that's just weird. Neither has Knute.
In response to Kló's cry, the gourd-headed leshy shouts back, "... ඔවුන් නතර? ඔව්, ඔබ විසින් ඇතුලත් විය හැක!"
As Kló bears forward, the nearest of the rats snap their furry heads up to him. This close, he can see that indeed Tassidar is correct: the rats are wearing clothes-- mostly tiny handkerchiefs around their necks, and hats, and little belts. A few of the rodents are even wearing tiny hats. One rat, bigger than the rest, has a feather stuck in its hat. He hisses Klo's direction, and draws a... sword? With the caveat that it's about as long as a heavy stitching needle of the sort used on canvas sails.
In a tiny, high-pitched voice, the feather-capped rat shrieks at Kló and waves its little sword, scampering around the garden edge towards him.
"Subsiste et stringe, cane! Do nec quadrante, non captivo!"
Knute, Halla, and Kló are up! (Knute, you are indeed on the edge of the map; I moved Halla as well.)
Halla understands neither side of the exchange. She keeps her eyes on Kló to see how he reacts.
Tassidar would have laughed aloud if it wasn't for the seriousness of deadly comedy playing out before them.
"The rat men do indeed speak. That one there just said, "Stop and draw steel, you dog! I give no quarter, and take no captives!"
The elf draws himself up and speaks back loudly and clearly.
Knute raises his bow, and aims at the rats' leader. He waits to fire until Klo commits to an attack or not.
Kló.... hesitates, looking down between the tiny creature that doesn't even reach his knee's height, and back to Tassidar at his translation, and then down at the rat. For a moment, the big man's face works as he weighs his options... then he shrugs in clear frustration.
"Oh, to hells with this thing."
He takes several long-legged strides forward and tries to physically punt the rat, like one of the stitched leather balls used by Hofn youths in games of sport.
Kló clearly has no patience for being threatened by tiny rodents. The big Ulfen brings one muscular leg back... and forward. His foot is about the same size as the rat's body. It hits solidly, and the creature goes flying back in mid-air with a wheezed squeak, and whumps up against one of the large roadside rocks.
The gathered rats shriek and chitter in dismay, turning en masse towards you with their small, black, beady eyes. The cap'n rat is momentarily out of breath, but still clutches what would be a knife for any person, brandishing it forward at Kló.
Well, I doubt there's turning back from that, Knute thinks as he watches Klo kick the lead rat. Knute takes a quick step to the side, hoping to get Halla out of his line of fire, and fires two arrows at the surprised rat. Guide my aim, Skaði. I think I'll need more accuracy than normal, the ranger thinks as he watches his arrows fly towards the tiny target.
Battle joined and their side picked for good or ill, Halla looks for a more defensive position and hopes to find one on the other side of a rock. Her sickle in hand, she stands ready to attack any rat that approaches her.
One of Knute's twin-loosed arrows hits, but not the other. The rat cap'n squeaks in an infuriated fashion. Halla hurries forward to use the rock, which is about four feet high, as some protection against the piratical horde.
The two leshies still on their feet take wild swings but fail to hit the rats mobbing them. The rat captain sneers at the arrow that has left a broad nick across his chest fur, and darts back towards Kló, shouting as he goes in the southern-tongue.
"Ad nos venis, incola terrae! Domino mari tantum servimus! Stulte, ut quid cibum capimus cogitatis?"
The captain tries to leap past Kló's guard and between his feet. Kló, for his part, takes a swing with his cleaver in response.
From between Kló's legs, the tiny rat stabs its knife at the vulnerable back of Kló's knee.
The captain shrieks with triumphant glee. "MORS AUT GLORIAE!"
Tassidar didn't know why Halla had such scorn for him, but her sarcasm finally irritated him.
"Need I remind you Halla, this is not the North. Didn't you see the badgers wearing clothing beneath the tree last night? No I guess not. Assumption is the mother of all f&&% ups, these are awakened animals! They are intelligent, not your common rats. You don't even know what you have gotten us involved in."
Then he thinks to himself.
But, to answer your question, no I do not allow rodents---speaking or not---to raid my garden like Ulfen Raiders.
"*&^$%$ $%^&* @#$%^&* )(&&^%$#**^
"Klo, He wants to know why were are attacking them, he says they serve the lord of the sea and wants to know why we think they are stealing food."
I am sure the unspoilered mention of intelligent badgers had something to do with sparking my imagination in this, but It was more of a sarcastic response because we are fighting rats with weapons and clothes and the scene reminded me of something from the book Wind in the Willows. Badger and his late mother lived beneath the tree in a burrow manor house (kind of like the one we are in front of), Ratty lived on the water as a river man (kind of like the one we are now confronting), and of course every one knows Mr. Toad of Toad Hall and his wild ride.
I was meant more as, "Look, can't you see the rat has a cape, hat and a sword? These aren't just run of the mill animals." The whole land is magical. I will try to fix that up.
I found the map. I have a PDF viewer on my ipad. So this shouldn't be a problem again.
Sounds qood, Tassidar will make the move forward and try to intimidate. His tone is like, "young man, why are you attacking that elephant with your pocket knife? Have you lost your ever loving mind?.
Tassidar didn't know why Halla had such scorn for him, but her sarcasm finally irritated him.
"Need I remind you Halla, this is not the North. In your homeland you probably don't see the badgers wearing clothing, treat with intelligent trees, or wake up and find that a family of living rocks moved in across the street sometime in the night right? Assumption is the mother of all fack ups in this land. These are awakened animals! They are intelligent, not the common rats of your world. You don't even know what you have gotten us involved in here."
Tassidar then replied to the diminutive rodent captain.
"~<>£*%# #<>€^ $&?; .,mad ]\|{ )(;:{}#%"1
Demoralize: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21
"Klo, He wants to know why were are attacking them, he says they serve the lord of the sea and wants to know why we think they are stealing food."
"So he answered your question with an evasive question of his own. Loki's response, that. And Lord of the Sea sounds like a reaver's god. Is he a tiny reaver?"
At their presumed captain's shout, the other rats scream in chorus and leave off from the leshies, scampering your way across the ground. Two of them manage to reach Kló, joining the rat captain in getting beneath his feet, running up his legs, and so forth. The other rats pour out of the garden gate, the two remaining leshies taking weak swings at them but not connecting.
I kick myself because it was originally longer and more detailed, but I cut it down so that Tassidar wasn't saying so much all at once. I will continue to try to bring my writing quality up. I thought you might be upset because there actually are badgers living in the tree we are currently in front of and I had seemingly picked it out of thin air. Tassidar's words to Halla were meant to stir up some interaction between the two characters, but I see I need to use more narrative to convey tone.
If Tassidar's attempts to stimulate interaction with him (like when he offered his food freely to Klo) are not adding anything to the game or are annoying please let me know and I can change that.
I am very much enjoying this game though and I appreciate your coaching.
"Uh, well, I would describe him more as a tiny swashbuckling rat whose verbiage carries undertones resembling a southern seas pirate, but reaver does appear to be a reasonable designation."
Rikka pushes forward . Understanding only snippets of the conversation, she doesn't bother with the finer points of right and wrong. Her new ally is under attack so her response is to defend him. She sends two beams of energy at the rats besieging Klo.
Two bolts of energy blast out from Rikka's hands and sail into the rats besieging the big Ulfen man. Pew! Pew!
One of the pirate minion horde shrills in pain, little curls of smoke rising from its singed fur, but it seems a rather sturdy rat, certainly more so than any she ever had to trap and kill in the endless chores of her childhood.
Stirgen runs closer as well, drawing his crossbow and sliding a bolt into the stock. "Should we try and focus on their leader?" he shouts.
No rats came near Halla in those few seconds, making her preparations unneeded for right then, at least.
Damage to Cap'n: 6 NL, 10 L.
Damage to Purple: 5 L
Damage to Kló: 7 (lethal).
"Yes, focus on their leader!" Knute yells, shooting two more arrows at the rats attacking Klo.
Halla looks on helplessly over the top of her rock. She thinks of the crossbow at her belt but, knowing how poor a shot she is and how few bolts she has remaining, decides to save it for a larger target.
”Aye!” Kló responds with a grunt, stepping back from the tiny onslaught. He lets the frustration of .. years of mistreatment and loss? … flow through his veins. His nature answers with savage fury.
The big man steps back, his arms fueled by primal rage as he brings his thick blade down on the captain rat’s head. Then he slings his shield into place, roaring a wordless battlecry at his tiny opponents.
Twang! Twang! Both of Knute's arrows hit the captain, despite his being right at Klo's feet. Klo takes what would normally be a careful step backward...
...only to get stabbed again for his pains.
The pain probably contributes to his answering rage. The kleaver is almost as big as the rat-- and it hits solidly. (There is a communal hissed intake of breath from the rat horde.)
The rat captain sneers at Tassidar's questions-- and statement of the disparity of violence-potentiality that exists here. At least, it sneers until Klo hits it. Then, it staggers back on tiny feet, fur bloodied, and wobbles its "sword" in the air in Klo's direction. "De... profundis... inferni... TE CONFODIO!" the tiny captain gasps...
...and then topples forward onto the grass, unmoving.
The remaining rats shriek and hiss in alarm. "O princeps, meus princeps!" cries one, running its paws over the downed form of the captain; the others turn tail (literally), scattering like, uh, rats, and tearing away to the south, over the hill, in the direction of the river.
The leshies break into cheering, or at least you think that might be what the noises they're making are. Flowers pop spontaneously into being with little 'pop' noises along the greener leshy's arms, and the gourd leshy claps its leaf-like hands together as it does a little dance in the garden.
Kló hesitates a moment, watching the rats retreating before he lets the feral rage drain from his body. Drawing deep breaths, he limps forward to loom over the lingering, conscious rat, then stoops to see if the tiny leader still draws breath. If it does, Kló sets down his sword and shield and tries to staunch the bleeding of the worst of its injuries.
Without looking up from his work, he addresses Tassidar. "Tell the last rat this. 'If you value your war leader's life, stand down. We didn't come to kill you, but we will if forced.'"
Then he reclaims his gear and stands back up, watching the rats warily as he addresses the plant creatures.
Finally, he speaks to the Hofnites. "I asked to speak to the plant creatures' master. We need allies." His eyes take in both the leshies and the rats, "Any allies."
The elf glances in Halla's dierection briefly before audibly clearing his throat.
"Ahemmm"
And in a calm and somewhat weary "I told you so" manner addresses the remaining rat.
"बिग रतस इन बेद्रॊम् अत मिद्निघ्त तोनिघ्त बिग रतस इन बेद्रॊम् अत मिद्निघ्त तोनिघ्त बिग रतस इन बेद्रॊम् अत मिद्निघ्त तोनिघ्त बिग रतस इन बेद्रॊम् अत मिद्निघ्त तोनिघ्त बिग रतस इन बेद्रॊम् अत मिद्निघ्त तोनिघ्त
"It appears to me that the large pale human is trying to save your captains life as we speak."
"Now please try to explain what was happening here?
"Klo, I believe that rat called the one you are holding a "princeps" which means the the first or the primary at its root, but also prince in several languages and infers a position of power, influence or nobility in several others. I relayed your message and explained you were trying to preserve their princep's life."
Klo finds that the little rat with the feathered hat is actually breathing steadily on his own, and in no danger of bleeding out (impressive, really, considering that Klo's kleaver blow could have knocked some full-grown men on their feet). Still, he does what he can for the tiny rat, and directs words at the leshies, while Tassidar in turn addresses the remaining rat.
The two standing leshies look at each other, then back to Klo, and then answer.
The leshies move about the garden and to the leshy that the rats had borne to the ground.
The remaining rat, whose large ears are pierced with so many tiny rings that they make his ears droop neart to the ground, does not attack further, but sits down with its tiny arms crossed over its tiny chest, a very human stance. He answers Tassidar with a stream of angry chattering.
The other rats are still racing for the river, quickly disappearing among the lush grasses.
Tassidar arches an eyebrow at the cheeky rodent.
"This one remains loyal and defiant. He says, and I quote:"
"Ye curs! Ye've felled the greatest pirate to ever sail the Thistlewhistle! The Master of Mill Pond! The captain of the dread ship Catspaw! Baletooth the Black hisself! I'll not tell tales! Torture me with irons, drownd me, poison me-- me mouth is sealed, ye scurvy giants! A pox on your nethers, and lice in your food, for me captain's twice the man of... of... of every man of ye! Why, when he wakes up, he'll beat each of ye black and blue, and tie you to the mast for a solid lashing!"
Curiosity gets the best of the elf and he asks his largest companion.
"I say good man. In which tongue are you speaking? It most certainly isn't sylvan."[
Knute sighs in relief as the horde of rats scurries away. If they had been enraged instead of frightened at their leader's fall... He shakes his head, and walks over to look at the "captain". As he gets closer, he sees Klo's wounds and the rat's. "You two did a number on each other," Knute says, dropping his pack and rummaging in it. He pulls out the potion Eysteinn gave him, and hands it to Klo. "Eysteinn gave us this before he left. It should patch you up a bit."
The ranger looks at Tassidar, then down at the two rats, unimpressed by the one's threats. "So should we tie them up before the captain wakes up?"" Knute also keeps an eye on the tree, tensely waiting for a figure to emerge.
The remaining rat continues to glare. He does not physically resist if you tie him up, but he does roundly carry on with imprecations of your ancestry, hygiene, personal habits, and likely sexual orientation.
Kló listens to Tassidar’s translation, then grunts. ”If he tries anything else, we’ll put him back down. And we won’t help him back up again. I won’t endanger my companions further.”
"I say good man. In which tongue are you speaking? It most certainly isn't sylvan.”
Kló hesitates, choosing his words as he regards the álf. ”An old tongue, though not as old as some. If you were meant to know it, you would.”
Kló gratefully takes the vial offered by Knute, then drinks it. ”Why does it taste like apple jack?” he says as he hands back the vial. ”Are you sure he did not just give you some alcohol. I don’t feel anything.”
He shrugs, then begins muttering a few words. They are old words, word of power, and words that seem to be echoed just out of the range of normal hearing by the trees, animals, and rocks around them. Kló’s body responds quickly, his wounds binding of their own accord.
As his wounds finish closing, he looks warily at the unconscious rat prince and his companion. ”I say we leave them unbound. We need friends. Tying them won’t help that.”
He looks back at the leshies, frowning in thought as he responds in their language.
The small plant-people look up from their tending to the fallen leshy, and answer Kló in the same strange tongue.
The pumpkin-headed leshy toddles forward to the mouth of the garden, where the rats had been stuffing full a hemp sack with their loot. A few lumpy vegetables have rolled out: the leshy carefully puts everything back in the sack and then lugs it over to Kló to offer it to him.
The sack contains a number of freshly-looted vegetables, although, as the leshy tells Kló, it appears the rats took things a little prematurely. The potatoes are small and hard; the onions are much more shoot than bulb; and there are small, lumpy turnips and carrots barely the width of a man's littlest finger. The gourd leshy presents these apologetically, bowing to Kló.
It then reaches to his head and plucks off the... top of its head, by the pumpkin stem there. The inside of its head is hollow-- in all respects, just like a hollow, carved pumpkin, complete with carved holes for a mouth and eyes. However, there is, strangely, another gourd inside its head, smaller, which it seems to be waiting for Kló to take.
Kló hesitates at the strange offering, giving a confused look and a shrug towards the Hofnites. Then, in the spirit of the moment, reaches in and plucks out the gourd.