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"I think I've got the hang of it," Ibid says, now worried that he has offended the Baron with his idle chatter. "If your musket blows up in my hands, because of something I've done wrong, I'm sorry for any damage to this fine piece of weaponry. And also, just bury me at sea...I couldn't stand the embarrassment of it."
Ibid tries to laugh, raising the musket in shaky hands, shooting a firearm by himself for the first time....
"Ha! You forget many things, and so quickly, my friend! Still, you hit another seagull - just one more and I am defeated." The baron is not so much teasing Ibid as knowingly laughing at the way he knows everyone struggles with this new and exotic class weapon.
"I must admit some significant embarrassment at this... I'm usually a much better shot. Still, at least I have scored before you get a chance to soundly defeat me."
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Amaranti bows deep as an answer to the Barons request. "Honored, I am. Never ride elephant, first time see elephant. But horses, and worm"
Only then it occurs to the Garundi, what he had forgotten. "Apologies, Baron. I forget present Kaisharga. Come here, worm, come greet Baron!" Amaranti motions to the eidolon, whom he had summoned once they had landed
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With the introductions done, the Garundi shoos the eidolon to patrol duty, and starts mounting the elephant. Feeling rather shaky atop the giant animal, Amaranti joins the count and the baron in the howdah.
"It is... very high in here. But I like it, big and strong animal! You ride these animal in your country?"
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Addressing Baron Bomande Rudyahm, "My Lord, a moment if you would please. When hunting this tiger ... I want to make sure that we follow ... your customs and expectations. Listening to your story of your ... injury, it was not lost on us your .... distaste for the arcane. For my people, well the arcane is practically a ... part of us. Were I to hunt this beast without you ... I would most assuredly use my arcane knowledge in concert with my martial prowess. My Lord, this is not our expedition so what are your .... thoughts on our use of the arcane? My ... gratitude for your time, my Lord, as always."
Addressing Count Falroun Matsanda, "My Lord, I cannot express how grateful I am for your ... hospitality. A bit of advice if I may .... from one who has already lived 3 long lifetimes by your standards. My Lord, be .... careful not to loose yourself .... who you are .... to try be someone's vision for who you are supposed to be. If I have misspoken, my apologies. I have just grown to .... admire you in the short time I have know you. I would hate to see you ... change. Good day my Lord."
Addressing workers at the Lodge: "Sir, I am not as ... familiar with your beasts of burden here as those of my homeland, but one can clearly see this beast is .... unwell. Our good friend, the Count, has paid good money to acquire this beasts services.. Are there truly no other ... beasts?
Addressing Patrons: "My new found friends, this elf from Kyonin would love to hear your ... tales of past tiger hunts. A drink to the best story."
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As Gunari is preparing to leave the ship, he find the captain. "Thank you, Madam Captain, for an excellent voyage. Were all sea voyages like this one was, I am sure that no one would ever want to stay home." He bows, takes her hand, pauses, and then gives it a hearty handshake.
To his host, "Again, thank you, sir. This has been quite the enlightening sea voyage. Your victuals were beyond compare... I cannot believe everything that we have sampled on this voyage. I fear now we must make some haste at finding your tiger!"
"Well done, sir, you have bested me!" says the baron, slapping Ibid in the back. The blow is a powerful one, and makes Ibid somewhat nervous given their perch up on the crow's nest. "As for letting you win, my son-in-law will be the first to tell you that I never, ever would do such a thing. I am a consumate sportsman. If you want to beat me, you need to be better than me. Today, you were! Congratulations."
Baron Rudyahm eyes Finarin seriously for a moment, "My friend, this gun here is my tool. To some, it appears as though magical. My people do not have the luxury of magic, but that doesn't mean we don't use what we have at our disposal to help us. Do not feel the need to hobble yourself or your abilities to fight with me. Magic away, Lord Moonstep! I would have you at your best, and not one portion less."
The count appreciates Finarins kind words, "I will not change. I am primarily a political animal, this is true, but I am by no means disinclined to the military. The lack of opportunity has been my biggest problem, and here we are with said opportunity in hand. I admit, though, that I have not hunted before. I hope that you and your friends will not mind helping me to look good in front of my father-in-law!"
It doesn't take long for Finarin to realize that this elephant is indeed the only beast available at the Lodge. There are stables for guest use, but those are all currently empty. The "hiring" stables is also barren, save for the elderly elephant. It seems sturdy enough, though, and will still carry four on the Howdah.
The baron has some thoughts on tigers, "They are quite territorial, and we will likely find it in the same place that it attacked me all those years ago. I'm certain I can lead us back to at least the vicinity of its hunting grounds again. Also, Cyrus here has been talking my ear off about tigers all journey. It seems he has done quite a bit of research on them. Perhaps he would like to share it with you... but for hunting, you can't beat a gun and some traps - if you know how to set them. Spears can also be useful for herding animals in the right direction. You lot seem to be well equipped, though, and I'm sure we'll need little more than provisions, porters and transport."
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Kaisharga," says Bomande, not at all squeamish about talking to an enormous serpent. The count on the other hand, is taken aback somewhat, but at least has the good grace to bow in return to the eidolon's bow.
"We do ride these animals often in my country," says Count Matsanda, "They are a most useful form of conveyance. They are quite comfortable when you get used to the pitch and roll of their stride. I find them infinitely preferable to the other form of transport in Alkenstar - the camel. Filthy, disgusting beasts."
The captain nods at Gunari's complements, but keeps her mouth closed and does not say a word. The baron, on the other hand, is full of excitement as everyone alights, "This will indeed be a grand hunt, but there is no need to rush. The tiger has been waiting five years for me, and will stand to wait a little longer. Best not to go in unprepared and certainly best not to rush it and have the tiger best us again!"
The following day, the Pathfinders set off through the dense tropical forest that is the Segang Jungle. The heat and humidity are oppressive and sweat constantly covers everyone but the native Vudranis and the baron. The hunting trail is relatively narrow and winds its way past obstacles, sometimes having to almost double back in order to progress further.
The baron occasionally leads the party on this hunt or that, but manages only to bag an armadillo and a sloth. He explains that animals are skittish this close to the lodge, and the second day should bring much more impressive game. The native guides almost freak out when the baron shoots the sloth, but calm once they realize it is not actually a monkey. You're not sure the exact content of the conversation, but the barons grumbling thereafter tells you at least that they may have threatened to leave if the baron insists on shooting any apes while here. The guides do speak a halting common, but since the baron speaks Vudrani, they mostly communicate with him in their native tongue.
At the end of this first day, the hunting party sets up camp. It is a rather lavish affair for a camp, but still modest by the standards set by the sea voyage. The count and the baron have their own large tents, and the porters carry many cushions into them once they are pitched. The Pathfinders, too, get individual tents, but they must satisfy themselves with much smaller accommodations and only enough cushions to sleep comfortably on. While the night passes uneventfully, the morning brings screams.
The screams are coming from Count Matsanda's tent, and they are accompanied by a loud crashing.
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"...and they are experts at marking their territory. The baron is exactly right, if we can get to the place where he first met the tiger, we will likely find him still there. Tigers fiercely guard their territory. According to my research, a tiger's claw marks that he uses to mark his territory are unique to each cat. I know! It's amazing. They even...."
Sometime a few hours later, "...are paying attention to it's face. I can't imagine it won't know we are there when we arrive, but they lay their ears back flat, and open their mouths wide when they are defensive...."
After lunch, it appears the young rogue is still spilling information to anyone who will listen.
"...They are the ninja's of the jungle! Them and Jaguars. Those seem to be the only big cats who enjoy to swim, and they can leap as high as the Baron on top of the elephant! I'm not sure I can even jump that high without a little help. Usually when they kill monkeys they pin them first, then snap their necks with their jaws. So don't let it get ahold of you! Or it might be lights out! And if it gets a running start coming at you, really watch out, chances are it will jump and land on you with both paws and teeth at your neck."
At the sound of the screaming, Cyrus feels the rush of adrenaline kick through his veins. Always ready for something, and knowing his masterfully crafted armor is easy enough to sleep in, all he needs to do is grab his sickle as he bolts up from his bedroll and darts out of the tent to the sounds of chaos.
Could the Tiger have found us already? The Baron didn't say we were in its territory yet, but who knows?! He can barely contain his excitement at the prospect of meeting the magnificent beast, but hides his excitement knowing someone might just be horrifically mauled at present...
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The old man springs up, perhaps not spryly or gracefully as his companions, perhaps because his motions accompany a cacophony popping limbs and cracking joints. His knobby, old fingers grab his prize longbow and both sets of quivers, slinging the ammunition over his shoulder as he moves to follow the group and approach the cries.
"Somebody stop Cyrus from running headlong into danger, before he's surveyed what he's up against," calls the old man.
Everyone rushes over to Count Matsanda's tent to see what the trouble is, ready for anything. They fling back the lavish silken door:
The interior of this spacious canvas tent is richly decorated with portable darkwood and silver furnishings. Torn mosquito netting hangs above the bed, and a mirror, basin, and various shaving implements lie scattered on the ground. A black leather boot lies on the floor next to the crumpled remains of a large black spider.
Baron Rudyahm seems to have gotten there moments before the Pathfinders and yells to the count, who is clutching a red and swollen right foot, "What the devil happened in here?"
"Something in my boot bit me - a spider I think. I fell back onto the bed in surprise. Ye gods, Bomande," he says, the panic causing him to switch to the informal mode of address, despite the company, "What if it’s poisonous? I could lose the foot! You brought some antitoxin, didn’t you? I'm sure I saw you pack it. Please, fetch it quickly!”
“Ah, so that's what the noise was about," the baron replies calmly. He glances down at the spider, completely unfazed, "Well, it's a spot of luck for you, then. The spiders of Segang aren’t dangerous - not like the scorpions. It’ll probably smart for a bit, that’s all. Next time, check your damn boots!"
The count looks ashen, "You mean you won't give me your antitoxin? Surely even if they don't tend to be poisonous, what if this one is? It may not even be native to these parts. You can't be sure; you're a great hunter, but you're no arachnologist! I can pay for the vial. It's not worth the risk!"
"Risk?" scoffs Bomande, "The only risk would be in giving you the vial. We can't replace it out here! If we were to use our precious resources like this, then we'll risk not having them when we need them. I'm not going to waste vital equipment on malingerers!"
It's at this point that the pair of nobles notice the Pathfinders in their tent.
You can positively identify the dead spider as a non-dangerous species with venom approximately as strong as a bee sting.
After inspecting the wound, you determine that the count is not suffering from any serious symptoms of poisoning.
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The old man slings the longbow across his shoulders and crouches to look at the remains of the spider.
"I can assure you Count Matsanda, I have read extensively on these matters and know with certainty that this spider was not poisonous. It's bite is akin to the severity of a bee sting," Ibid attempts to calm the man.
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"I don't know that I trust anyone more on things like this than old man Ibid here, count, if my opinion counts for much. He's forgotten more than most people know. Besides, there was a boy back at my orphanage who got bit by a spider and died the next day. His foot was swollen way worse than yours in less time. That doesn't look too bad, though it's probably going to be uncomfortable for a while."
Cyrus states this rather matter-of-factly, trying his best to both reassure the count as well as not make him feel patronized for not knowing the danger around him.
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Gunari checks the wound just to be safe. He takes some time, grabs his hip flask (which is full of cheap whiskey). He mumbles a few words to himself, makes a show of cleaning the wound with the whiskey, and says, "There, my lord. You have averted what could have been a treacherous bite, even though this time I think you were safe. However, in the future, perhaps you should check your boots before you put them on. You never know what might crawl in there." He then takes a tankard off his belt, and conjures some Caydenbrew for the startled noble. "Have a drink. I've found this calms the nerves better than any curative!"
"Errr," says the count, looking unconvinced, "I still think I should have the antitoxin, just to be on the safe side."
"Huh, big man on a hunting expedition wants to waste supplies," says the baron, thoroughly sick of this, "Well, no, I say - and these folk here agree with me!"
The count looks to the companions, "Do you really think there is no chance I will lose my leg from this?"
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After seeing Gunari quite ably handling the Count, the halfling just nods and smiles, trying to convey a sense of easiness and lack of concern for the bite. Of course, he doesn't really know what that thing was...the fellow's foot could fall off in ten minutes for all he knew. This was an outstanding group he was with, though, and if they felt that adamantly about it, he would follow them to the Count's grave.
A little embarrassed, the count calms down, "I will defer to your expertise, Pathfinders. I'm sorry for overreacting. The pain combined with a bit of a hangover - and this humidity - and I guess I wasn't thinking clearly. Apologies, Lord Rudyahm."
"Apology accepted, my boy," says Bomande, giving Faroun a friendly clap on the back, "This is new to you after all. Just remember, your father-in-law is always right." With a wink at everyone assembled, the baron returns to his preparations for today's hunting.
Just before the pathfinders leave, the count steps in front of the tent flap, biting his lip, "Um, that didn't go so well for me. I think I ended up looking like a bit of a nervous maiden in the baron's eyes. It would be really great if you could help me to look good during today's hunt. Do you have any ideas on how I could bag an impressive kill for the baron? I know it's not your job, but I would really appreciate it all the same."
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Gunari thinks a moment, and then comes up with the start of a plan. "Since I haven't finished learning my spells this morning, when I go back to my devotions, I can memorize Magic Weapon. This will help you to shoot straighter than normal, by enhancing your weapon. You'll still have to make the shot, but perhaps this will let you relax a bit? I'll have to wait until we are close, because the spell will only last for three minutes, though.
"And maybe Ibid can help you with your tracking?"
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The old man smiles warmly on the count, "Of course, I'll certainly do what I can to help. As Gunari pointed out, I can aid with the tracking, and I'll do my best to help in any other way I can."
"What will you be using to hunt with, if I may ask?" Ibid asks after a moment thought. "Knowing that will help us help you get an impressive kill.... Especially, if you are using.... say...... a bow."
Almost to himself, Ibid mutters to himself the half formed kernel of a plan,"Miro uses his commanding grasp of words... keeps the Baron looking one way.... Finarin takes down the tiger from the shadows in one, clean shot.... the Baron turns back to see the Count with bow in hand..."
The count looks overjoyed at the offers of help, "Thank you, Gunari, a magical weapon would be much more useful than a mundane one. Ibid, I'll be using the weapon of my people, a gun of course! It is a musket, just like the baron's, though not as finely made. I must say, I wish I were as good a shot with it as you. Those seagulls didn't stand a chance - and you beat him hands down. I've never seen any man do that before!"
He claps excitedly, "... and Miro, distracting the beast would be a grand gesture. Yes, if you could get the beast to sit still or even look away for a moment... yes, I feel sure I could hit it!"
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"Good Count, if you are confident enough that you can take down an animal with your weapon, especially with Gunari's magical enhancement, I think I could remain unseen while making sure that whatever beast we are hunting appears in your sights. However you shoot it, I will make sure it is you that gets the first shot. Just don't miss." He says with a wink and a sly smile.
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"My Lord, after having a conversation with your .... father-in-law, although he personally has a ... distaste of magic, I fight equally well with both the .... arcane, and the martial. I have a few spells handy that will ... slow the beast. Let me attack from a .... hidden location to try and ... weaken the beast so that you are able to kill it easier. Does this sound agreeable to you?"
With Amaranti and Kaisharga accompanying the baron and porters elsewhere in the jungle (the baron simply had to see the big Garundi's lance in action), the remaining companions go with the count. The count's retinue travel deeper and deeper into woods, and Ibid's expert guidance sees them (eventually) to prime hunting grounds. The investigator locates a set of large prints, probably those of a bear, and the companions are led to a large jungle cave.
Keeping good on his promise, Cyrus confidently edges forwards past the threshold of the cave to see what he can spy. Unfortunately, he is not used to operating in a natural environment, and the twigs underfoot crunch loudly. A growl from the cave both confirms the presence of a bear, and sends the Kelishi rogue running for his life from the darkness. Seconds later, an enormous black-furred bear emerges and cocks its head to listen more sounds from the intruder. Instead, its ears are greeted with beautiful forest melodies from the Miro, the halfling bard extraordinaire!
As the bear moves towards the sound of the beautiful melody, Ibid recognizes this as a sloth bear - and a particularly spectacular example of one, too. He remembers how it reacts to intruders and whispers to Count Matsanda, "When it rears up, you'll have but one shot. Aim for the chest and not its head. Its brain is so small that even if you hit its head, you'll likely just give it an ugly scar and make it angry. Now, wait for my cue..."
Ibid walks up to the bear, swallowing his fear and trepidation. Simultaneously, Finarin approaches completely invisible. Ibid raises his arms above his head and lets out a threatening , trying to make himself look as big as possible. The bear mimics Ibid's movements, rearing up on its hind legs. It does not quite face the count, however, who had to move to avoid shooting Ibid (the man didn't know he couldn't stand between the count and his prey - Ibid was still used to the arc of a bow, not the direct firing line of a musket). Finarin appears suddenly and shots a snowball into the side of the bear's head. It rears up all the higher and turns around just enough for...
the report of the count's musket echoes off the trees and the bear is downed.
Upon returning to camp, the baron is suitably impressed with the kill, "My boy! That is a most magnificent sloth bear you have there. Very well shot indeed - right through the heart. Couldn't have made a more accurate kill myself. All Amaranti and I managed were some hares and this boar here. But you should have seen the way he downed the boar with that lance of his..."
The stories continue well on into the evening as the porters skin and clean the kills before roasting the boar. The count hangs the bear pelt outside of his tent in lieu of his usual silks, his face beaming with pride all evening. In thanks to the Pathfinders, he opens a particularly rare case of southern Varisian wine and shares it around.
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oh yea, this is the place. There has to be something big in here. Good thing I am so sile**** oops...
"......eeeeeEEEEEEAAAAaaaaaaaaa"
"...truly a masterful shot count! I'll admit, I had my weapon out and ready, but the beast was down as fast as he reared up on his his legs! The way he came out of that cave, I thought we were all in trouble for a split second there. I am impressed with your patience, lining up that shot. It took some stones to wait until the last second like that."
Cyrus, still impressed by the Baron and his aura, hangs on to every word of his story as they talk about the days adventures. At one point he turns to his friends, "All our assignments should be this grand. Just don't tell that stick in the mud VC how much fun we are having." he says with a sly smirk.
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"Indeed, the Count had the bear down before most of us could even react! A marksman, through and through. Next time I'll know to leave my weapons and instead arm myself with quill and parchment to record the mighty deeds of the masterful Count." He keeps a straight face as he says this, it only being a bit of embellishment. True, they had helped, but the Count had still needed to aim and pull the trigger. He seemed like a good enough sort, certainly someone who was worth a little fib.
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"Good hunt, Count! Fine catch you have! You be fine hunter. Come, we build big fire, and roast boar. Can this sloth bear animal be food, too?" Amaranti congratulates the count, genuinely impressed of their prey.
Once the sun sets, and air cools, Amaranti sits by the fire. With big bites he eats a chunk of the boar, sipping gently the wine and trying to taste the aromas the Baron is telling about. To the Garundi, wine is just wine, but uneducated as he is, he doesn't fail to appreciate a particularly fine wine.
"This how life should be. Good food, good drink, good friends. Let's toast to good hosts, Baron and Count, finest of men. Miro-friend, maybe a good song to make evening even better?"
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"My good friend Amaranti - I toast to ...not being on a boat! Although that last boat ride was ...one for the ages. Many years have I walked Golarion. Sitting here, with my brothers ... and my Lords. I could not be any happier. Another toast to Count Falroun Matsanda ... Count One Shot if you will! "
Face split in a rare smile, the elf swirls the Varisian wine around, sipping from his travel size balloon goblet. He glances at his companions faces, remembering the perils they have faces together, knowing that no matter what the morrow beings, he was where he should be, with who he should be, living life how it should be lived. With a contented sigh, he pops another piece of crackled boar skin in his mouth an chews loudly on the salty, crisp skin.
Turning to Ibid, "That was well done my friend. You continue to .... impress me with your knowledge. Tomorrow I will keep an eye on our ... ambitious, young friend. I have grown almost as fond of the ... youth as you. You will know when the time is right to say what needs to be said. Tonight though ... let us be merry and forget our worries. ."
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"Here Here! A song! To Count one shot and his weapon, Bear-Bane! " Cyrus says, with a slight slur in his voice, a few extra of Cayden's finest running through his system.
"and to the Baron, for bringing us on this incredible quest, and for the mighty beast we have yet to conquer!" he says, standing first, then falling over having his balance upset by his outstretched arm.
This group, these friends, I didn't deserve this. What a charmed life... I wish pops could see me know. I'm glad it's these friends though... he makes eye contact with ibid, finarin, miro, gunari, and amaranti each in turn, as he contemplates the deeper meaning of things, often also the result of a few to many.
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Turning to Ibid, "That was well done my friend. You continue to .... impress me with your knowledge. Tomorrow I will keep an eye on our ... ambitious, young friend. I have grown almost as fond of the ... youth as you. You will know when the time is right to say what needs to be said. Tonight though ... let us be merry and forget our worries. ."
The old man turns back to the elf, nodding to Finarin's words while his eyes seems to stare ahead blankly, vainly trying to conceal a hint of sadness. "Thank you, my friend. You are too kind," Ibid says, mustering a smile.
"But, truth be told, I would very much appreciate if you would help keep any on your young friend here. I will gladly accept that offer," he says, motioning the short distance to the now distracted Cyrus, merrily raising his drink and calling for a song. "There is no telling what trouble he may get himself into."
Adding a little quieter, "Especially when at long last he finds the answers he has been diligently seeking. He will need help dealing with the truth once it is revealed to him, but I fear he won't seek any further council from me."
"But that will be another time, dear Finarin, and hopefully long from now." Ibid finishes, raising his own cup, and draining its contents.
Puling his attention from the elf, the old man nods in agreement to resounding calls for a toast and joins in complimenting the count for his spectacular shot.
"Aye, here's to Count one shot, bear-bane!" Ibid calls, "May the tiger fall as easily as the Count's bear! That beast never stood a chance against a hunter such as this."
After a few moments, Ibid does find a moment to speak with the Count, amidst the drinking and merrymaking, "Count, it appears you are more of a hunter than you previously let on. I can kill from a distance, and keep up with most archers in a pinch. But I cannot drop a bear with one shot, let alone much of anything else!"
Both the baron and the count are very pleased with the day's efforts. Bomande is seeming less distant towards Faroun, and Faroun seems to have gained newfound confidence after the kill. The celebrations go on well into the night while the porters jerk the bear meat under Amaranti's instructions. However, at the baron's insistence, only limited quantities of alcohol are consumed, "There is a time for excessive libations, and that is when we return to the lodge. A clear head is needed for this kind of work. Now, that doesn't mean we can't have some wine, and feasting is a given..."
Whereas the previous night, the companions struggled to sleep for the chirping of crickets and cicadas, the sounds of nocturnal birdlife and more besides, the sounds of the forest give way quickly to the exhaustion at such a busy day. Morning sees the sounds redoubled however, as the smell of salted pork and woodsmoke wafts into the Pathfinders' tent. Monkey chatter and hooting joins the bird calls.
As everyone is getting ready for the day when they notice that the sounds of monkeys seem to be becoming more and more prominent. By the time the group exits the tent, the porters are busy righting containers, a little less quickly than a group of monkeys that seems to have surrounded the camp can knock them over in their search for food. It appears the delicious pork smell doesn't just make the Pathfinders' bellies rumble.
The monkeys look up as the companions approach, their cute little wizened beards twitching as they sniff out these newcomers, and staying a little back from them. Ibid identifies the monkeys as macaques, a particularly socially-oriented species of monkey who even has a complex form of social hierarchy. While omnivorous, they generally prefer berries and fruit.
The porters offer the visitors bits of food and set down some bowls of fresh water, occasionally offering a prayer in Vudrani as they do so. This makes the monkeys grow bold, and more and more of them enter the camp from the forest, toppling yet more items in their search for food.
"What is going on here?" ask the baron, growing irate and turning to the Pathfinders, "I want these monkeys out of my camp. My friends, I would have you remove them here by any means possible. If you don't, then I will!" He pats his rifle.
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Gunari, as always, has a wild idea. "Friends, we need to be careful so as not to insult either our host, or porters here. What I would suggest would be for Miro to put on a little show for the wee beasties, and we could then lure them out of the camp with as little bloodshed as possible. Given that the monkeys look so much like little people, perhaps they would be interested in some of the same vices as humans? Well, if so, we could lure them out, give them some treats, and some beer, and let them pass out after their indulgences. That would give us time to get them out of the area!"
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"Ah friend Gunari ... always thinking with your tankard. I am no druid, but I would guess that these .... monkeys are interested in eating, and procreating. Since I am assuming none here are volunteering for the latter .... I suggest we concentrate on the former. Let's have the porters gather some ... fallen fruits and move the bowls deeper into the woods. Anyone know if it would be offensive to ... pick up one of these monkeys and carry them out? We could then gather the ... critters with the porters help and escort them out. This may be a terrible idea ... as I am no druid. I just shudder at the thought of a ... troop of drunken monkeys."
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"I think Finarin has the right idea here, between food, booze, and song, I think we can lead these monkeys right out of our camp. As Finarin suggested, I'll get started gathering some of the food."
Cyrus will gather fruits and the other goodies the monkeys seem interested in. He will avoid picking any monkeys up however.