"Ah well, t'was fun but kingin' is a tough jobe. We'll be off. But 'fore we do, 'erald!"
"Yes your Royal-Honey Majesty?"
"Give these knee-slappin', ham-handed big job gits a proper readin' lass."
"Yes your Royal-Honey Majesty! Ah-ah-ah-hem. By his own authority and by that of the Nine Princes, His Royal-Honey Majesty the Great Laird Bee-King Bumtumbler the First decrees that while thou may in his Royal-Honey Majesty's words be 'knee-slappin', ham-handed big job gits' that thou have 'jiggered the royal funny bone' and for that reason thou shall be allowed through auspices of Royal magnanimity to hunt three Royal sky-herring should thou find them in this his Royal-Honey Majesty's forest with this gift of one of the Royal juniper bushes." At this point an uprooted scraggly-looking shrubbery the size and general consistency of a tumbleweed falls from the otherwise empty sky into the camp. The officious voice continues. "Thou shalt hunt precisely three such sky-herring--while in season, no more, no less. Three shall be the number thou shalt hunt, and the number of the hunting shall be three. Four shalt thou not be hunted, neither hunt thou two, excepting that thou then proceed to hunt three. Five is right out.... That's it boss."
"Right! We're off. An' donna let us keetch ya thievin' naething neither or it's the kack!" Says His Royal-Honey Majesty the Bee-King making a noise one would make when pantomiming being hung.
You hear them move off northward muttering quietly among themselves. The squirrel too hops back into the underbrush.
"Uh, thank you. Your King. Uh...what's a sky-herring?"
Scarlet isn't completely sure what's going on, but at least they aren't in trouble. "Could we get the charter back, though?"
There's silence. The sort of silence you get when you know someone is there trying to remain silent.
Then there is the sound of a very hurried conversation to the east.
"All well and good, but our friend wants his paper back... and we don't know what a sky-herring is... pretty-please give us a hint then."
She fumbles in her pack for a moment, and pulls out a bar of soap. "I have this lovely smelling soap to trade for his paper." She sniffs it and smiles at the pretty scent.
On an Impulse Zokon loudly exclaims while looking up into the trees to the north
"Eastern or Southern Sky herring!"[
She fumbles in her pack for a moment, and pulls out a bar of soap. "I have this lovely smelling soap to trade for his paper." She sniffs it and smiles at the pretty scent.
More discussion. Then a pause.
"Oh and what does it taste like then? Do you have enough to share?"
On an Impulse Zokon loudly exclaims while looking up into the trees to the north
"Eastern or Southern Sky herring!"
And actually Sniffs the tiny cricket lady haughtily. "I believe there is no 'Eastern' sky-herring it being too dry in Casmaron for them. The question should be phrased: Avistani or Garundi. Really, what sort of ranger are you?"
"It's a- It's a-." Naleksa points at the creature with one hand and then cups the other to her mouth in shock.
"It's not for eating... it's for smelling nice and being clean and looking pretty."
From nearby Celyne's hand there comes a crunching noise, and a tiny brightly colored dragon with the wings of butterfly fades into view.
"Ish alwite. I think moth of it is tallow." The dragon pipes in with it's mouth full. It swallows. "Could do with some onions."
"Oh my Goddess!"
"Ohhhh, aren't you beautiful!!!" She reaches into her pouch with the rations and pulls out some other foodstuffs, (hopefully there's at least something in there the dragon might like)... "No onions I don't think, but i do have these... do you like honeycakes?"
"First I'm not a ranger and I now consider myself educated on sky herring, are you a grigg my lady." Zokon asks with a slight bow
"Well obviously." She says severely but quickly softens at the non-ranger's bow. She rubs her hindmost legs together yielding an opening note like a violin. "I am Tyg-Titter-Tut and this is Perlivash."
Scarlet sheathes her weapons and takes a closer look. "Hey Tyg-Titter-Tut. My name's Scarlet. I hope you enjoyed our gift."
Scarlet's heard stories of grigs before, usually while studying grasshoppers. She's never seen one in person before, though.
"So, is this place your home? Is there anything other rules we should know about, besides the three sky herrings?"
"Oh my Goddess!"
Posh seems to zone out for a moment at Naleksa's comment as if remembering something pleasant for a moment before snapping himself out of it. He looks to the creatures cautious for a moment.
Having no clue as to what they are he remains silent and unconsciously steps back to Alia.
** Sylvan **
Both creatures suddenly look concerned.
A loud angry voice issues from the forest to the east. "AHEM! Donnae let me be bother ye! I'll jest stay here then shall I!? Find my own soap to eat will I aye?"
Tyg makes overly-dramatic entrance music with her hind-most set of legs while Perlivash accompanies her with ghost sound announcing the arrival of....
"His Royal-Honey Majesty Bee-King Bumtumbler the First!"
"Alright, alright!" A little man who probably only comes up to Numalar's nose with a shock of shockingly red, red hair waves them off and strides purposefully into the clearing. He wears a fur vest over a thread-bare shirt that was probably last washed before the little man stole it from a clothesline, and a kilt that looks to be made of rabbit's fur and feet. His eyes are startlingly gold. "De 'ole effect's bean ruin'd already, so stop bein' daft! Where's dis 'ere soap aye?"
Scarlet doesn't mind being ignored, and lets Celyne lead.
Upon the king's entrance, Scarlet does look for her bar of soap. Never liked these things anyway.
Celyne curtsies like she would for anyone noble or royal at the sight of the bee-king. "Greetings, your majesty. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. How may we show our appreciation for the fine jests we have been honored with today?"
His Royal-Honey Majesty brow furls in confusion. He looks around and then back over his shoulder as if unsure with whom Celyne is speaking. Behind him a squirrel (possibly the same one from earlier) shrugs.
He looks at Celyne the way a person might look at a floating brick. "'Jests?' an' ye wanna pay us back with a fine meal of soap?" He looks about at the rest of the party. "Is there a healer in the camp? I think she's 'ad a wee too mooch air."
"Not so much as her bloomers I think your Royal-Honey Majesty." The grig says staring straight ahead at the next county.
Bee-King reflexively looks up at the highest tree branches and their billowing makeshift flags. The fairie dragon takes another bite of soap and shifts about uncomfortably.
Zokon does not quite no what to do, he settles on fact finding
"Hello can we help you at all, or have you approached us just for the pleasure of our company"
Zokon does not quite no what to do, he settles on fact finding
"Hello can we help you at all, or have you approached us just for the pleasure of our company"
"Whaddya mean approached ye? You're the ones dat comma callin' on us all unannounced! No doubt yer here for the wishin'. Everyone's about the wishin'. Well, ye shant have it! An dat's final I says!" And so he does, spinning on his heel to turn away from the camp suddenly engrossed in the branches of foliage before him.
"I'm not here to wish for anything. Just passin' through your territory."
"If you don't mind me asking, are outsiders bothering you a lot about it?"
"Oh yeah, if it ain't you daft, big job gits, its dem wee, scaly, black, mine buggers. Gallivantin' all about not a care in the world for decent folk like us, aye? Traipsing down our pathways twixt the Ol' Bear Cave and the Ol' Road and Silver Mine and da Moon Radish Patch, leavin' yer unmark traps everywhere. Ohhh the shame of it all. It's not like in de ol' days I can tell ye. Oh no, back then we got some respect, goat's milk and biscuits and a bit o' salt and some libations. Dems were da days. But now pbbt. Nothin'. Well nothin' will come o' nothin' I tell ye."
"Well, I don't have any wine, but I do have this..." Scarlet rummages around her stuff and manages to pull out a beautiful glass table-top vase complete with blown-glass flowers.
"We were en route to the Moon Radish Patch, then we heard about little critters making a mess and ruining the crops. We'd love to take a look at it and learn all we can about them."
"Old bear cave, silver mine? I'd have a greater appreciation of your tale if you told me where these places are please?"
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Numalar looks around for a few moments, flabbergasted.
What are they? Well, at least the little creatures seem to mean no harm.
Tyg makes overly-dramatic entrance music with her hind-most set of legs while Perlivash accompanies her with ghost sound announcing the arrival of....
"His Royal-Honey Majesty Bee-King Bumtumbler the First!"
Numalar's eyebrows go up. This little fellow, a king? Impossible! But... how many men have refused to honor my title? Only drunkards and fools ever called me 'Prince.' No, I will honor his title and see if he honors mine.
Numalar doffs his hat and bows deeply, without irony.
Your Royal-Honey Majesty, it is indeed an honor to meet you. I am Prince Numalar Auritonius the Ninth, of Valdralee. I promise it is not our purpose to trouble you.
But you mentioned libations. Let us see what my dear friend Gertrude has in that regard...
Numalar goes over to his mule Gertrude, and pulls out two large clay jugs.
Ahhh... here we are. This one," Numalar hoists the jug in his right hand, "Is a decent Brevic ale, and this," he hoists the jug in his left, "Is a rather bellicose dwarven whisky. If you are going to visit our camp, the least we can do is offer some hospitality."
"By the way, is there any chance I can have my charter back?"
"Old bear cave, silver mine? I'd have a greater appreciation of your tale if you told me where these places are please?"
"Lemme see yer map there lad. I tell ya, the times we live in rangers canna even find a wee giant bear cave with both 'ands. Oh and lookie 'ere ya already 'ave the other place marked--dinna know t'was a silver mine aya? Why am I not surprised? Yer meetin' those wee daft scaly buggers dere."
"Well, I don't have any wine, but I do have this..." Scarlet rummages around her stuff and manages to pull out a beautiful glass table-top vase complete with blown-glass flowers.
"We were en route to the Moon Radish Patch, then we heard about little critters making a mess and ruining the crops. We'd love to take a look at it and learn all we can about them."
He takes the vase and peers through it at you comically distorting his face (if that's possible). He shoves it in his rucksack.
"What's ta know? Dey're wee. Dey're daft. Dey're scaly and if ya kick 'em in bawbles dey fall down."
Numalar looks around for a few moments, flabbergasted.
Numalar's eyebrows go up. This little fellow, a king? Impossible! But... how many men have refused to honor my title? Only drunkards and fools ever called me 'Prince.' No, I will honor his title and see if he honors mine.
Numalar doffs his hat and bows deeply, without irony.
Your Royal-Honey Majesty, it is indeed an honor to meet you. I am Prince Numalar Auritonius the Ninth, of Valdralee. I promise it is not our purpose to trouble you.
"You?! One or the Nine Princes?!" Bumtumbler clasps his hands behind his back and circles once around Numalar looking him up and down in obvious disapproval. "Tch, tch, tch. I mean look at yerself man. Ya look like a walking hand-me-doon sale at the village flee market. Where's all the gold, aye? Sorry freirned but I think you might be a bit moon-touched or...."
He looks suspiciously at Numalar.
But you mentioned libations. Let us see what my dear friend Gertrude has in that regard...
Numalar goes over to his mule Gertrude, and pulls out two large clay jugs.
All the pack animals seem to be magically colored to resemble Holstein cows. There's a splintery three-legged stool under one of the horses along side an old tin bucket. Gertrude is wearing a rusty old viking-style helm.
"By the way, is there any chance I can have my charter back?"
"This?" He says holding it up as if seeing for the first time. "It t'wer stolen fair and honorably! Is mine ta keep--daemonic possession being the law an' all. If ya wants it y'all 'ave ta challenge me fer it!" He shoves it back into his belt, pushes his hair back, unbuttons and rolls his sleeves. He balls up his little pink fists like a late 19th century boxer. "Right! Marquess of Gralton Rules den?"
"Ah, there aren't a lot of rules in Gralton, is there? Maybe we can narrow it down a bit? Keep it nonlethal?"
Scarlet puts up her dukes.
"Numular, you want me to fight in your stead?"
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"You?! One or the Nine Princes?!" Bumtumbler clasps his hands behind his back and circles once around Numalar looking him up and down in obvious disapproval. "Tch, tch, tch. I mean look at yerself man. Ya look like a walking hand-me-doon sale at the village flee market. Where's all the gold, aye? Sorry freirned but I think you might be a bit moon-touched or...."
He looks suspiciously at Numalar.
"Oh, I freely acknowledge that the House of Auritonius is not what it once was. My family was driven out of Ohrza-Kushain when I was young, and since then we have had very little. What good is it being a prince if you have no principality? Though I swore to my father on his deathbed to re-establish the honor and prestige of our house."
"But I swear by the Golden Spire of Kembalyne that I am the scion of Auritonius and the head of that house. In fact, I am the last; my father told me that all the other eight houses were gone, and we were the last of ours."
Numalar looks around, and back at the Bee-King.
"In fact, you are the first person I've met outside my family who didn't need to be told who the Nine Princes were."
"If you need to see gold... take a swipe at me, and you'll see it."
All the pack animals seem to be magically colored...
"This?" He says holding it up as if seeing for the first time. "It t'wer stolen fair and honorably! Is mine ta keep--daemonic possession being the law an' all. If ya wants it y'all 'ave ta challenge me fer it!" He shoves it back into his belt, pushes his hair back, unbuttons and rolls his sleeves. He balls up his little pink fists like a late 19th century boxer. "Right! Marquess of Gralton Rules den?"...
"Well, I had hoped you would do me a courtesy, between one gentleman and another."
"Numular, you want me to fight in your stead?"
Numalar looks at Scarlet, and Back at the Bee-King. "What is it that makes red-heads want to fight?"
"I don't mind, if it is permitted. I don't know much about the Marquess of Gralton's rules. But if a woman came up with the rules for the fight, I see no reason a woman shouldn't be the one to fight."
"Frightened are ye? A prince among cowards, aye? 'Ave ta have yer Big Bessy 'ere fight fer yer collectable tissue paper aye. It's too bad she ain't got a skirt fer ye ta hide behind because I float like a fairie dragon an' sting like Bee-King, I do! And when I'm done beatin' whichever one o' you is brave enough ta face me I feel I'll be needin' to take a shat and will be glad fer yer wee bit o' paper. Hope it's thick in the middle I do!" He ducks, capers, weaves and bobs about Numalar showing off his fancy footwork, trying to shake the sorcerer.
Posh decides to ignore the situation with these strange creatures and looks at Alia's tent, taking a moment onto how to approach as you can't really knock on a tent.
"Um...Alia. Since everyone is occupied do you mind if we continue our conversation?" he seemed to have stammered for a moment then.
"What is it that makes red-heads want to fight?"
Scarlet pauses. "Well, Gralton is a River Kingdom that is notable for not having many rules regarding fighting. I figured we keep things simple and indulge-"
Scarlet observes the Bee-King sizing up Numalar. "Of course, if you have a better idea, I'd love to hear it. It is the king's land, after all."
"Less talkin' muire fightin', ye wee milksop!" Shouts the little man one fist raised before him the other swinging at the end of his arm in a big circle. His leather-sandalled feet never stop moving.
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"Frightened are ye? A prince among cowards, aye?"
Numalar's face turns red, and his eyes narrow.
"Fine then. Have it your way!" Numalar barks. He takes off his hat and gear and throws it to the ground. "You want to pick fights with old men, that's fine. But nobody calls me a coward."
Numalar puts up his fists, ready for the Bee-King's first swing.
Round 1
The Bold May Act!
__________________
__ Bee-King
__ Numalar
The Bee-King takes a swing at Numalar only his fist flies through the spot Numalar had been causing the Bee-King to spin completely around in place. After a moment of confusion he smiles evilly and ducks out of the way of Numalar's response.
Round 2
The Bold May Act!
__________________
__ Bee-King
__ Numalar
"Ohmygosh! Look o'er dere! Is dat the Stag Lord?!"
"Numalar, what-" I guess this is a personal thing.
Scarlet watches these two flail blindly, realizing none of them are fighters.
When the king mentions the Stag Lord, Scarlet draws her hammers immediately. "What? Where! Stop slapping each other, we have bigger problems!"
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The Bee-King takes a swing at Numalar only his fist flies through the spot Numalar had been causing the Bee-King to spin completely around in place.
"Ohmygosh! Look o'er dere! Is dat the Stag Lord?!"
"What? Where?" Numalar looks around. His fingers extend into claws at upon hearing the name.
Numalar turns back upon the Bee-King, and jabs a fake punch at Bumtumbler's head. "This one's for Nyrissa!"