As Edric adjusts the mirror, there is very slight 'crik', nearly imperceptible. A second later, the tunnel is filled with a horrible stench: skunk, rotten eggs, and...something...else.
Vosil's stomach heaves, but remains - just about - under his control. Doing his best not to breathe too deeply, he holds, waiting to see if his companions need assistance in getting to the fresh air waiting for them outside the cavern.
In the meantime, he keeps his eyes and ears open for any sounds of hostiles approaching.
Dregan turns, his hand over his mouth and stumbles back to the closest pit and starts to empty his stomach into it.
Gavriil looks quizically as Dregan rushed to throw up. "What's his pro-" is all he can get out before the stench hits him and he rushed next to the ranger to empty his stomache along with him.
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There was a scene in the writer Stetven King's work Stand With Me, when the protagonist, a plucky urchin raised by the streets of New Stetven, the birthplace of the author's namesake nom de plum, connives himself into a mince pie competition. The pie is, predictably for King's juvenile humor, rancid, and it sets off a chain of events leading to the mass spewing of mincemeat across the stage, an auditory and olfactory spectacle aided by a journeyman illusionist named Cricket, who in Talia's opinion, was the best artist in the whole production.
The play was middling, but there was something to be said about humor based around the basest of bodily functions.
Pinching her nose to keep the stench out, Talia smirks as Gavriil lets go his lunch. "Ha!" is all she says, careful to slam her mouth shut lest the stench creep up her mouth and into her nose from behind, before turning to see who's next to spill his stomach into the cave.
"Edric, hold up! We're two down, and I'm not sure about how Naralesh is doing." Vosil looks anxiously around at the elf. "If they don't recover soon, they're vulnerable - and that makes us vulnerable if we have to protect them as well as ourselves."
He glances at Talia. "Lady, it's your call: press on, hold, or fall back?"
Naralesh retches as the intolerable stench assaults his nostrils. "My magic... can't focus... like this." The wizard looks to be in no state to battle.
Giving a quick look down the hall, Talia begins her retreat. "Fall back until everyone gets ahold of themselves, and the stench clears."
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Gavriil keeps heaving as Naralesh rushes to join both he and Dregan in the vomit hole. In between heaves he pointedly looks at Talia. Once he finally gets the heaving to stop he wipes his chin and says, "Sorry, I guess we aren't as used to the air of nobi-"
Again, his joke gets cut short as he doubles over heaving. Once finished he looks up, "Oh, never mind..."
Ever the good soldier, Vosil holds position until all the invalids are out safely, before he hastily beats a retreat to join them. Getting ambushed behind your own lines by kobolds is a long, slow, painful way to die.
You stumble out into the light of day, blinking at the bright sun. Despite the clinging stench, it feels good to actually breathe fresh air and stand up straight again.
Within five minutes, the worst of the effects are gone. You all still feel queasy, but the nausea has passed.
Mind clearing in the open air, Vosil looks pointedly at Talia. "If those kobolds'd had access to anything more potent than skunk oil, we'd be burying half our number about now. Or left them behind for the Sootscales to do it, I suppose."
He shakes his head, reprovingly. "It won't do. Not three leagues yonder-" he points North, toward the gold mine "-we have a clan of the finest tunnel-fighters you'll find in Golarion. Can we please, please, swallow whatever pride is getting in the way and go get them to clean out this nest?"
A pause.
"After all, every hour we spend here is an hour that Kaalib and I aren't going through the accounts to make sure we're getting the taxation we're owed..."
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Gavriil wearily gets to his feet after recovering from the violent vomiting. He nods along with Vosil. Two attempts were made to enter the cave and both had them running away with their tails between their legs. If Kaalib was right that the kobolds only respected strength then they had lost that credibility long ago. Intimidation wasn't working, cutting the head off the snake wasn't working, and he couldn't think of a way to out sneak a bunch of bush-whackers.
He lowers his head, "I have to agree with Vosil on this one. I'm about ready to say we just drown them in pitch and set the hole on fire."
He grits his teeth, fighting off another wave of nausea, "However, let me say something really, and I mean really, stupid..."
He looks at Talia, "You gave me the title of grand diplomat. With this title comes certain requirements. Requirements that I have to admit I've been lacking in this particular situation. I'm sorry.
"I have to advise you against moving against the Kobolds any more. If we take a second to really think about all we've done here then I think we'll all agree that we're in the wrong. We sent a letter to a neighboring nation asking to have a meeting of our leaders. They countered with stupid demands that really matched what we were asking them to do: to send their leader alone into the other's territory. We refused the demands and instead of continuing to talk to them, we showed up at their doorstep and asked to be let in." He smirks, "Even the scoundrel of the greenbelt knows that that's pretty rude.
"Then, when they didn't respond we called them names and then came into their home anyway. What did we expect? Of course they are going to put a stop to that! We would do the same if the Kobolds came to Fairhaven called us all bastards and then proceeded to come into our town uninvited. We got spanked hard and then what did we do? Ah yes, the exact same thing all over again.
He lets out a long sigh, "So, as your grand diplomat, I would advise us to retreat, apologize, maybe give them a gift, and continue trying to talk to them." His usual smirk plasters itself across his face, "But as your friend I gotta say that one of those stupid lizards is paying for a new shirt!"
Talia grits her teeth, her face blushing red. "Fine. We run, like cowed... cows." Pinching her nose, the Countess sighs. Beaten by ten midget lizards...
She's very quiet on the ride back to Concord.
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"Not to disagree with my younger colleague here, but... I do disagree with my younger colleague here. Let me count the ways."
Vosil's aware that he's treading on thin ice here - Gavriil is the Diplomat, after all - but what the hell. Besides, the kobolds are a potential threat to the realm, which makes them his responsibility as much as anyone's. He starts counting on his fingers.
"First, the two sides are not equivalent. We sent a diplomatic letter asking the chief to meet us, we didn't say he had to come alone, and we gave the usual guarantee of safe passage. Let us contrast that with the chief's reply: Talia was to go alone, with no guarantee of safe passage."
"Second, we would not have responded in the same way: had the Sootscale tribe done as we did and appeared on our doorstep, announced themselves and stated that they wished to discuss the treaty, would we not have met with them? Let us contrast that with the kobold response, which was to ignore us."
"Third, what is our aim here? Is it to give gift after gift to a tribe of troublemaking kobolds, in the hope that one day they might like us? Not going to happen. Is it to live uncomfortably with a tribe of hostiles in our midst, whom we cannot control? That, we have. The preferred outcome, where the kobolds integrate into our realm and productively mine the silver, is increasingly looking like a pipe dream."
He draws a breath.
"The only certainty here is that if we do not know what we want, we shall not get it."
"Oh yes, one other thing: it seems likely that the Sootscale tribe will consider that we are at war with them. Leaving now merely gives them free reign to range over our realm causing havoc."
Gavriil's glare turns to Vosil, "Our aim here, I thought, was to build up on the treaty that we had already made with them. Which both sides have been pretty poor at doing. That and attempt to find a peaceful resolution between a friend of our's people and our own."
All aspects of his usual candor are gone now. The thought of them just wiping out the kobolds did sound appealing to him, but then how would they be any better than any other fledgling kingdom that ever tried to claim the Stolen Lands? If they did not abide by treaties that they established then how would other more powerful countries ever want to enter into talks with them?
His lips press into a thing line before he looks to Talia, "He's right about the war, though. What we did today would probably spur them into a frenzy. Either path in front of us will have consequences. I think it's our job to try to try and keep them to a minimum."
"Either way, just understand that we are the aggressors today. It's up to you whether we'll be the aggressors tomorrow."
Holding her hands up, Talia steps in between the two men. "Last time people got offended, I had to ride up to Oleg's. Let's discuss our options, and make a plan."
"Option #1: Finish what we started here. Kill the king, put Kaalib on the throne. Remember, there's only eleven of them. No, ten, thanks to Grvm..., Grvmsh..., Nara's friend. We're not in bad shape, either. They however, have failed to do much to us except annoy us, and one of their own is dead. Personally, we've seen these things in close combat. They're not terribly impressive. We rest for the evening, then go back at them in the morning. I can cast sleep magic, and Naralesh can use his glam-bang lights to incapacitate as well. I bet we can still cut the head off the snake and put Kaalib's on it, and only the chief has to die."
"Option #2: run to the Brighthammers. To be honest, I'd rather not be indebted to those damn dwarves. If we can solve this problem ourselves, all the better. And the dwarves won't be so kind to Kaalib's people as we will."
"Option #3: run back home and get our army. Again, there are ten kobolds. Two hundred of our men should be able to take them. Perhaps such a show of force would be enough to cow Kaalib's people without any further bloodshed."
"Option #4: bribery. This will work. For awhile. Offer the chief enough gold, and he'll play nice for a time. Probably the most peaceful resolution, the most expensive, and the least effective long term."
Vosil smiles as Talia clearly enumerates the options. Ah, logic. My old friend, how I've missed you.
"Very well put, Lady. Shall we put it to a vote? Option Two, for mine. We needn't be indebted to the Brighthammer clan - just tell those brothers that they were right and you can't reason with the kobolds, and that you'll listen more to their advice in future: that flattery will be all the pay they require, assuming we pay for the new silver mine to be constructed. They'll take care of the rest."
He looks pointedly at Gavriil. "And it will tell our neighbours: Don't mess with us, we've got loaded dwarves and we're not afraid to use them... It's a hostile world out there. As Darrick said, how many before us have tried to conquer this wilderness? The Sootscale tribe refused - refused - to talk to us. Far as I'm concerned, this is on them."
"This is far, far beyond diplomacy now, Gavriil," adds Naralesh. "They're not interested in interacting with our budding nation as partners. If we leave them be, they will fester in the heart of our territory, a danger to the citizens who will one day settle here, a drain on our resources, and an impediment stopping us from utilizing the resources of the silver mine." He looks back at the tunnel from which they emerged. "Would that it could have been easier and simpler, but alas, this is the hand we've been dealt. We can't leave them here, and they're not just going to leave on their own." He grimaces. "And I don't think we gain much by having Kaalib rule over fewer than a dozen kobolds. I rather like him handling our finances, not managing a vassal state whom our ruling council nearly outnumbers."
"I'm amenable to an option that leads to less bloodshed, but we may have no choice. If we end this without slaughtering them to the last man, I feel it should end in exile, not placing Kaalib in charge of what's left."
Gavriil grits his teeth as Talia steps between them. She had a point, but he is too hot under the collar to really pay attention to that. He was at the point where he just wanted to either punch Vosil in the face or just walk away and get drunk.
Maybe both.
He looks at Naralesh, "Just like the situation with the Brighthammers was far beyond diplomacy? If I remember right, you all were up in arms about them too and it worked out with the right words and a few drinks. All I'm saying is diplomacy may not be off the table. We just need to come at it from another angle."
He takes several steps away and looks off in the distance in an attempt to distance himself from the situation and cool off. He looks back to the others and says, "Well, obviously I vote for the diplomatic route. But I fear that I'll probably get out voted when it comes to that. So if a fight must come I'd rather we take care of it." He looks to Vosil, "Gods know I need something to stab right now."
"Besides, we need the Brighthammers working the mines, not fighting on our behalf. They are our best chance of making money out of those mines without wasting time or money. We'd even be better off calling our army to fight the kobolds over the Brighthammers. We pay them for situations like this!
"So, leave the dwarves out of this. If we won't go with diplomacy then I say we go in and deal with the problem ourselves. Better we do it than waste resources that are better suited elsewhere."
"I have no love for the lizards but my ma taught me what is right and wrong and we are clearly in the wrong. I tried to tell you before but I am not skilled with words like Gav here. I'm starting to think that maybe our failures are a hint from the Forest Father or some other god. I vote to let Gav have a go before we anger a god enough to kill us all."
Vosil sighs. Reason and logic don't seem to be working; time to try another tool - sarcasm.
"I must have missed the bit where the dwarves refused to talk to you when you turned up. I also must have missed the bit where they attacked you when you entered their camp... Or is it, perhaps, that the two scenarios have nothing whatsoever in common? The dwarves, whatever their other faults, are basically peaceable and industrious - and the kobolds... aren't."
"And yes, you can open a bottle of wine with a knife - but better to use a corkscrew. The dwarves are hardened fighters used to tunnel fighting, our troops are not. Plus, putting them in the field in Winter will be expensive."
"Oh and Dregan, we TRIED talking with them. We turned up and announced ourselves and they didn't respond at all. That's when we entered - and they attacked us. Trying exactly the same thing again in the hope of a different result is... unlikely to work any better."
He looks around. "I am sorry for any offence. But the facts are what they are."
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Edric stands quietly, letting the others argue. He doesn't have Gavril's gift for words and everything that needs to be said has been said by someone else.
"This is not the way I'd like to train the army. Tunnel fighting is a specialised combat environment and its not one I could train them for. Either way, can we please keep the troops out of it. They're green and these kobolds are highly skilled in traps. We'd lose too many for it to be worthwhile. If" He stresses that word firmly, "If we take a military route it needs to be us."
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There is a silence as you contemplate the situation before you. The weight of rule hangs heavy on your shoulders: who knew that the decisions to be made could be so difficult. Much easier to write sardonic plays in the theater, or go drinking and carousing at the local taverns! Even harvest season on the farm seems to be a walk in the park compared to this.
Still, the responsibility is yours. You have taken on this mantle, and there are hundreds of people counting on you.
That thought alone draws your plight into stark relief:
It's not just about you anymore.
It is not just about you anymore.
The words ring in Talia's ears, over and over and over, as the Countess stands there while her advisers argue. Pinching her nose, Talia clears her throat, and then looks to Kaalib, who has been strangely silent. Of course, she would be too, if the extermination of her family was being bandied about so casually.
"Ahem. It looks like the plurality of people here - myself, Naralesh, and Edric - are in favor of finishing this now. Everyone else is split, and Kaalib hasn't voiced any opinion in quite awhile."
Turning to her treasurer, Talia clears her throat again. Nerves. You can stand in front of a crowd, or write something to be savaged by critics, but to betray a friend? Get ahold of yourself. It is not about you anymore.
"Kaalib, you've been a good friend. But I just don't see a way that this experiment will work. You've lost one of your family today, but I'll do my damnedest to not see anymore die before this is finished. Except the Chief. He dies, for everyone's benefit. And when he's gone, the Sootscales will be yours."
"But, they can't be yours here, in the Greenbelt. You and your family will have safe passage out of the Greenbelt, at the accompaniment of our army, under Edric's guidance, and with a hefty sum of gold from my personal treasury to start over. May I suggest Restov? Take your people to the Temple of Abadar. The priests will be receptive, especially with a writ from myself and a donation from the treasure I'm going to give you."
"I am sincerely sorry. I've failed you and the ideals that I once held."
Looking to everyone, Talia's voice comes more forceful. "Rest tonight. Tomorrow we go in and cut the head off the snake, finally and for all. Then we help Kaalib's people get resettled."
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Gavriil scoffs, "The point, old man, Is not that the two events have everything in common with how the others acted, but entirely on how you reacted. The dwarves disagreed with you. You wanted them killed. The kobolds won't talk with you. You want them killed. Is this how we are going to deal with every person we deal with who disagrees with us? If that's the case then we traded one tyrant for another. We came here to establish a new rule under how we wanted to live. Maybe your dealing with the nobility in Brevory made your view a little too much like their own."
He stops short when Talia speaks up again. Looking around, he realizes that he is on the losing side of the argument. He looks on in silence as Talia gives her decree to Kaalib. Her speech gives him time to cool down and comes to terms with the fact that while she was choosing to attack, it still pains her to make the call. Seeing that cools him down significantly.
He looks at Talia and the rest, including Vosil, "I'm sorry if my advisement caused problems. That wasn't the point of all of it. I didn't mean to attack anyone here or cause hardships. I only wanted to state that there is another way than violence. Whether my advice is heeded or not is up to you. Not to mention throwing up constantly for a while has kind of worn my temper thin. I'm... I'm sorry I got carried away with it.."
He turns to Talia, "You have my blade to use how you will. Though if we are staying here tonight I suggest we keep the fire burning strong. They already know we're here and they can see in the dark. We can't."
"I'll take whatever shift you all don't want."
Dregan nods to Talia "There is a better spot to camp a half mile that way, should give good view of a lizard trying to sneak up on us."
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Edric helps lead the horses to Dregan's suggested campsite and sets up to take first watch. The 'solution' Taalia has offered sits uneasily with him. Although the decision is clearly thought out and just the fact that she assumed he was in favor of violence leaves Edric frustrated in himself.
I was trying to protect my men, not suggest we go in and fight. Gavrril has the right idea. I need to be more articulate, explain myself better - there are too many other people relying on me now, the army, their families. Resolution settled Edric turns his eyes and attention outwards.
"Maybe your dealing with the nobility in Brevory made your view a little too much like their own."
Out of the mouths of babes and Scoundrels...
Gavriil's retort reduces Vosil to a startled silence (it's OK, it's only temporary). He pauses, lost in contemplation of the past. Has he really allowed his rage and grief at the loss of his young ward to be misdirected in this way? Has he, in struggling against what he hated, given into that hate? What would Tashya have to say, if she could see him now?
He blinks.
"EVERYTHING is a learning experience." He recalls the words of his former mentor Dylan, after one of their missions had gone spectacularly wrong. Very well. Let this, too, be a learning experience, before he too is reduced to having young girls murdered in the street merely for being an inconvenience, like those - ah yes. He knows what to say in reply.
"Taldan. It was Taldan nobility."
He listens quietly to Talia, and nods. They have a decision.
"Here." He passes his Everburning Torch to Edric who has volunteered for the first watch. "A light that won't go out."
He settles down in his blanket, but sleep does not come easily.
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"No."
Kaalib's voice cuts through the discussion like a knife. Stangely silent through this whole ordeal, when he finally speaks, it is with authority. The small dragon-accountant isn't looking at you, he's staring straight ahead at the cave entrance.
"This is my responsibility." He turns his body only slightly, but his eyes never leave the entrance. "Thank you for your concern for me and my wishes, but this has always been the way it has to be. I must go and face Chief Sootscale."
He holds up a small claw to stop your protest. "They will never accept you. That is not our way. For a kobold, the strong lead, and the weak follow...or perish. I had hoped that I could make them see...make them understand..." His head drops with a sigh. "But now I see that if I wish to save them, I must assume the chieftainship. And to do that, I must kill the Chief."
There is a long pause. The chill evening breeze blows softly over the long grass on the knoll where you stand. Kaalib sighs again.
"Do not follow me. Do not attempt to help. You will only make things worse, and many of my people will be slain in the chaos that will follow." He takes a few steps forward, then stops and turns, a sardonic smile on his face.
"I understand Magna now," he says softly, "I see her pain. Did not Asha say 'you can take the woman out of Brevoy, but you can't take the Brevoy out of the woman'? The same goes for dwarves...and kobolds." And with that he strides purposefully toward the cave, disappearing in the darkness of the entrance.
It seems an eternity, standing on top of the rise waiting for your friend to return. There is no sound, save the rustle of the grass, and stamp of an impatient horse. Then a small figure emerges; first one, then two, then six or more kobolds. They gather at the entrance, but if they see you, they do not give any indication. They watch the cave entrance, waiting. The whole group is packed and carrying gear as if for a long journey. Soon, another figure appears. It is Kaalib, carrying a large sack.
He winces as he presents the bag to Talia. "Don't." He says, to anyone coming to help him, although he is obviously in pain. "They must not see that I am hurt, or they will try their hand at taking me down. They are not strong, and I'd be forced to kill them." He smiles weakly. "I will be fine. Here. This is for you. I have kept enough for us. We will be leaving the Greenbelt. I hope to get another start for us, although it may take a generation or so to change their...our...ways." He looks at each of you in turn. "Thank you my friends. Farewell." Kallib turns and waves his arm. The kobolds that remain move off in a line north, fading into the night.
"Goodbye, my friend," Naralesh said. "I wish you, and your tribe, the best." He looked off toward the other kobolds in the distance. "I wish that things could have turned out happier, but you will be a good leader for them."
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"Your courage does you credit friend." Edric responds gravely, taking Kaalib's small hands in his own. He holds on somewhat longer than normal, using the opportunity to push a large amount of healing magic into the small form of his former companion. "And now you actually aren't hurt." He whispers with a grin. "Pleasant dreams and clear skies go with you."
Edric watches sadly as Kaalib and the rest of his small tribe leave - the kobold had become a good friend, one willing to explain the minutiae of life in the Greenbelt and a reliable ally in combat.
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Vosil doffs his hat and sweeps it low, bowing deeply. "Fare you well, O prince among dragons."
May the sun ever warm you,
May the wind be ever at your back,
May your God bring you from the light of day
Into the light of Truth."
He sighs, heavily.
Then, ever practical:
"We shall need a new Treasurer..."
"Thanks... goodbye." Dregan mumbles not really knowing what to say.
Once they are gone, he turns to the other, "I don't want to but we should check the place for traps, you know if we are going to send people here to mine the place..."
Dregan walks over the sack, "He shouldn't have given us this, this isn't ours, well I guess it was probably stolen from the people who have come through here. I have no idea how we could work out who and return it however... and Kaalib will need it." Dregan sorts through the sack and finds same amout and Talia's bribe and hands it to her "Well this bit and we can return.. And this" he says pulling out the wedding ring.
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Gavriil watches in silence as Kaalib emerged from the cave and told them how it was going to be. How many had they lost along this journey into the Stolen Lands? Maybe that was the true reason they were called the Stolen Lands. They weren't lands that were stolen from one king or another, but lands that stole something from the people in them. They took friends and family from those who inhabit them.
Though it was a somber moment, Gavriil couldn't help but feel proud for their friend. Even though he was leaving them and things had not gone how any of them had wanted, Kaalib had risen up to the challenge. He had become a king to his people and could help them survive way better than any of them could. He could make them stronger and maybe, someday, even live in peace alongside the other races.
Once the Kobolds had left, Gavriil turns to the others. He smirks at Dregan's worry over returning the money to their rightful owners. Well, since there's really know way of knowing, I guess we'll just have to donate it to our own funds. he thinks with a glint in his eyes.
Weary from the emotional cart-ride they had gone on that day, Gavriil speaks up, "If I may make a suggestion? We've had a long couple of days and I think work is really starting to put us at our wit's end. I suggest we rest here for tonight, maybe even use just the mouth of the cave for shelter. Then tomorrow we head to the Oleg's. That way we can return the ring, and if you all think it's a good idea, maybe offer him a treasurer position. Owning a business, he has to know a thing or two about money."
He smirks, "Then, I think we need to all sit down to a bowl of Svetlana's radish soup and I'll open that bottle of Old Law whiskey I've been holding onto." He looks at Vosil, a hint of remorse in his eye, but his smirk does not faulter, "We need time to remember that we were friends before we were rulers of a country. And we need time to process all that has happened."
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Gavriil watches in silence as Kaalib emerged from the cave and told them how it was going to be. How many had they lost along this journey into the Stolen Lands? Maybe that was the true reason they were called the Stolen Lands. They weren't lands that were stolen from one king or another, but lands that stole something from the people in them. They took friends and family from those who inhabit them.
Vosil nods, thoughtfully. "That is no bad idea - it might be worth our while having one of the Levetons on our Council. But are you sure that the husband is the right choice? From what I saw, which is little enough, his wife is at least as much a part of making their enterprise a success; and the gods know we could do with her kind and sage words in our midst in preference to his gruff, surly manners."
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Edric nods at the suggestion of the Levetons. "That's a good plan, although I doubt that Svetlana will leave Oleg and I'm almost certain that Oleg won't leave his homestead so it might be an interim measure, perhaps until we can get in touch with someone from Brevoy? I'm sorry, I don't have much to contribute here..." Edric looks a little sheepish at this.
"I would like to see the Levetons again," Naralesh added. "And this..." Naralesh continued, looking at the ring. "Unless I miss my guess, I think that Svetlana will be very pleased to see this again." He smiles, holding up the ring for Talia to see.
Talia grimaces as Oleg is brought up. Truthfully, she finds the man distasteful; not respectful of authority, sullen, and hard on the eyes. What Svetlana sees... well, lesser mysteries have gone unsolved. Still, she's resigned to the idea, until Vosil broaches a better one.
"Svetlana? That is a fantastic idea! To the Levetons' then! And don't worry, Edric, we'd only need Svetlana in Concord a little while each month. And we can sweeten the offer by beginning a roadway north - that will conveniently pass right by Oleg and Svetlana's trading post. Surely they'll appreciate the added business!"
Well, Svetlana will at any rate!
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Talia's jaw drops as Naralesh holds up the ring. It was... nicer than she'd expected. Maybe there was more to Oleg than just a grumpy face. Talia can't help but notice a smile has spread across her Countess countenance.
"I think you're right, Naralesh. You should be the one to give it to her. - its thievery stretches back to the beginning of our story. In a way, that damned bauble is a symbol of everything we've been through! Wonder how the kobolds got it?"
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Gavriil grins at Edric, "Nonsense! You do have something! And you make a good point. They may not even want the job. But I have a feeling that poor, poor Svetlana may be fed up with living in the middle of nowhere. Even though Oleg may put up a tough front, we all know that he'll do whatever she wants. Heck, he sent five very inexperienced people out into the woods and nearly to their doom just to get her ring back! That man will do anything to make his lady-love happy."
He yawns and sits down near the mouth of the cave, suddenly very tired from all of the days events. He slips his lute out of its case and strums it lazily, just liking the feeling of having it in his hands again. It seems a nightly ritual for him at this point. Even if he doesn't play anything at all he still enjoys at least letting the notes fly into the air. And what better place to release the muse than when surrounded by friends.
As he tunes the lute, he smirks at Talia and says with a wink, "Maybe some poor young kobold caught the love bug for a koboldess and wanted to impress her. In fact, I think I have a song for that. He probably felt a little like this..." He turns a knob on the neck of his lute one last time before he begins strumming and singing, "Ain't no Sarenrae when she's gone... Only Pharasma every day..."
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