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"Ma cuta -- Bleaurgh!" Shakras goes down in a death gurgle.
The red troll, crown still on his head, holds up his hands and kneels.
"Waxba ma yeeli horyaalka?"
Do you accept his surrender?
Ruckus, the red troll in the crown, is at first taken aback by Azara's wink, and then eager! All that remains of the half-orc scout Hagal are his few surviving possessions, which Shrakas unceremoniously crammed into an empty beer barrel in the northwestern storeroom. Ruckus leads you straight to them, explaining in crude giant speech that Shakras ate Hagal a week ago.
Among the effects are a badly torn explorer's outfit, three broken potion bottles, and an oilskin-wrapped notebook that logs his discoveries. There is also a heavily scuffed robe that glows magically.
Hagal has noted the location of the Thassilonian ruin to the west, where he spotted ogres laboring to uncover more of the site while directed by an ettin with a single tattoo on her face. The notebook also contains dozens of other observations of giant movements, construction, and plans that he would have returned to Councilor Kalla.
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Kiku closes her eyes and moves with a river-like grace through several prayer forms before finally bringing her hands together.
"Thank you, Korada, for bringing a peaceful end to this battle."
Distress remains in Kiku's eyes as she hears of Hagal's end, but she manages a smile once she sees that his notes are intact.
"The knowledge that Hagal discovered will be used to save many lives and prevent further conflict. We shall honor him by completing his final task."
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"I believe some of Zarta Dralneen's wisdom could be of use here."
Azara grabs the large bowl that was formerly full of Troll fingers.
"Be sure to tie this over its mouth. Like a... gag... of sorts."
Azara chuckles to herself for a moment, and then speaks seriously.
"A rat will chew its own arm off to escape a trap. A rat that can regenerate will go to greater lengths to escape being tied up."
As the plan to tie up the troll is presented to Ruckus, he looks stricken.
"No kulanka ilaa! Kooxda heysata horyaalka wanaagsan! Maxaad doonaysaan inaad i rabaan in ay sameeyaan?" He holds up his hands. "Waxaan halkaan sii joogo karo oo ilaaliyaan cutada. Sida aan hore u Shakras sameeyey."
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"Does anyone think we could convince him to fight for us against the ogres and other giantkin we will be encountering next? Maybe we could offer to legitimately help him become a leader of his people when we are all done. Trolls can be nasty in combat," Shel says, thinking of the possibilities of how well received her exploits at the Lodge might be, if she tamed a troll and turned it to her side.
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Ruckus turns to Harsk, looking longingly at the still three quarters full larder full of salted fish and ale. "Laakiin waxa dadka kale haddii ay soo cunaan oo dhan kalluunka iyo khamriga? Ma jiro mid ka tagay Ruckus."
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Grigorii looks up from his meal to address the troll.
"Rukus, if you stay here and guard the food, when we come back we might have more for you from the supplies of the ettin and his ogres. You won't get any of that unless you stay here, don't eat small folk, and keep other giants away. Do we have a deal?"
Ruckus nods eagerly. "Heshiiska!" He gabs some salt, crushes it on his forehead, then hands all of you some salt too and looks at you expectantly.
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Juniper grabs some salt and crushes it into her hair, then spits into her small soot-covered hand and holds it out to the troll expectantly, then gives up.
"Never mind. The salt thing was enough," the halfling decides as she absent-mindedly wipes her hand clean on Azara's blue scarf.
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Kiku takes some of the salt and crushes it on her forehead. Even the ectoplasmic Yojimbo follows suit.
"If we cannot give trust, then how can we ask for it?"
Kiku offers the salt to Harsk, her gaze directing her words towards him.
"For conflict to end, each side must be willing to trust that the other will honor peace."
Kiku turns to Ruckus, giving him a comforting, motherly smile.
"At least for the time being, I believe we can expect that Ruckus will honor the agreement."
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Harks takes the salt from Kiku crushes it on it forehead and turns again to Ruckus.
"I think its a mistake not to leave him tied up. But I'll go along with what you guys think is best. I have experience fighting giants and trolls and I think they're rotten to the core. Anyways...lets go find that ettin."
Harsk starts to walk out of the hall.
He stops and turns to the badger.
"Come on fur ball. There's more giants to deal with."
Biter scurries next to Harsk.
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Shel also partook in the salt ceremony. I wonder if any other agent ever participated in an agreement like this with a troll? I bet this will stand out in my report, Shel noted, always looking for a way to stand out and be recognized by her superiors.
"I agree. We need to get to that ruin and see how the ogres and crew have progressed. Can't let them get too far in the work."
Ruckus nods to all of you, even Harsk, then grabs his still living but deeply unconscious troll buddy and throws him into a bedroom before settling down himself to sleep against the larder door. "Ruckus ilaalin wanaagsan."
You take your leave of the Winter Lodge, and travel along, following the detailed notes that Hagal had left.
The muddy path eventually leads into a large circular clearing, free of the boulders and trees that adorn most of the mountainside. In the center of the clearing, the last embers of a fire burn underneath charred logs. A haphazard pile of grimy furs and skins covers the ground near the fire pit. To the north, a ten-foot-wide tunnel leads into the mountain, but a pile of rubble blocks the tunnel's entrance entirely.
You see some large figures hulking by the fire. Do you sneak up on the camp to get a better look?
While you're watching from under cover, one of the ogres, the red one, looks fearfully at the cave entrance. "Waxaan ku dhaarto waxaa la i doonaysaan at."
The green ogre snorts. "Miyaan ku doonayaan at. Haddii aysan madaxa ah."
The red ogre shivers. "Waxaan dareemay in ay u raadinaya igu."
“Wasn't lookin' at you. Didn't have a head.”
“I felt it lookin' at me.”
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Quieter than an autumn leaf falling to the ground, Shel's footsteps carry only the barest whisper of sound. As such, she's able to look all through the camp. Near the rubble, she can hear something large shuffling around behind the pile of rocks. Whatever it is, it isn't trying to be stealthy.
The ogres look like they've just been in a fight. All of them are scuffed and bruised and covered in dust, and their stuff is tossed everywhere in disarray, as if they had to run with whatever they had and dropped it.
In the middle is the ettin who you assume must be Pahg-Vahr. She paces one way, then rapidly changes direction, as if suddenly she's changed her mind, and then forcefully moves back the other way.
The head on the right snarls, and kicks at the dirt near the one of the ogres who's cradling its head.
"Bırak gitsin, Pahg! Vi er trætte!" The head on the left says, wearily. "Waxaad i cabsiiyo."
"Let it go, Pahg. We're beat. You scare both me and them."
Harsk, listening nearby, realizes that Pahg-Vahr is speaking an odd pidgin of Goblin, Giant and Orc. Because he knows all three languages, after a bit of time trying to sound out this linguistic mashup, he is able translate Pahg-Vahr's words to the others. Grigorii can make out words here and there, but the vast majority of what Pahg-Vahr says makes no sense to him.
There is a glowing symbol on the forehead of Pahg, the head on the right.
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Grigorii stares at the rune on the ettin's forehead, brow furrowing in concentration.
Suddenly, his eyes light up with recognition. "I have heard much about the history of Thassilon. The local Averakans told many such tales around their fires. Mostly to scare each other, I expect. They said that the rulers of Thassilon, a group of powerful wizards known as runelords, developed a curse that they used to force giants into slavery. The symbols on Pahg's face are the Thassilonian runes for wrath and sloth, suggesting that the curse originates from the ancient empire of Thassilon."
"We should be careful dealing with this one."
There is the history you find in books, and there is . A people's history survives through it's culture – its songs, stories, and art. More often the best knowledge is found in what is remembered. Books are full of boring facts, numbers, and whatever else can fill a page. People are too afraid to write secrets down in books, but there is always someone willing to tell a dark tale of curses and villainy over a drink.
"Didn't read about that in your reports, did you?"
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Kiku reads the Thassilonian symbols for the wrath and sloth on the ettin's head...
..but she is unable to make the connection to the slavery curse until Grigorii brings it up.
She turns to Grigorii, nodding in support of his knowledge. A look of shame and distress comes across her face as she momentarily think that his final reprimand is meant for her, before she remembers that Shel is invisible nearby.
"Please...we do not need to fight. If you would wish to reprimand anyone, it should be me, as I momentarily forgot the connection between the Thassilonian runes and the curse of service, even when Thassilon has been a subject of study of mine for some time."
Runeslaves like Pahg-Vahr can continue to function even after taking great punishment. They are immune to nonlethal damage.
So you are planning to ambush the Ettin and the Ogres? Those preparing to do a surprise attack will need to give me stealth rolls and make sure they're placed where they want to be.