"Should we try to scout the moulin first? If we can get within sight of it, I can summon an invisible eye that can then scout from there."
"Knowing what is there may give us a better idea of where the distraction will work the best."
The party agrees to accompany Baknarla to the Frostwolves. They rest for the night and set off at the crack of dawn. Mid-morning they reach the Frostwolf encampment where Baknarla is stopped by the Frostwolf guards. ”Do we need to throw you out the hard way, since you were told NEVER to return to the tribe?” One of the encampment guard sneers at Baknarla.
”I carry with me the rainment of warrior-shaman Sarnok. Proof that the vision the spirits sent is a true one, and that you had no right to kick me out of the tribe. “ She then raises the rainment for all to see. There are some astonished gasps among the adlets. ”And I have come back to challenge Wargath for the right to lead the tribe.” She clasps her hand on Einar’s shoulder. ”This is Einar, the person from my dreams, and I nominate him as my champion to the trial to rule the tribe.”
”So you’re back.” A rotund adlet lumbers forward, ”And making now you’re making others do your fighting for you, Baknarla?” Wargath gives a disdainful sniff. ”My brother, Worgrath will send your “champion” packing, like the pathetic whelp he is.”
Worgrath couldn’t be different from his brother, or he is a lean, battle-scarred adlet with a curved blade, bow, arrows and a spear on his back. He moves with the grace of a practiced swordsman, and unlike other Adlets, wears a haramaki. He nods gravely at Einar.
The rules of the ritual combat are explained. No magics. Otherwise anything else goes, and it’s to the death. The winner takes the losers’ gear.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"Ill bet Worgrath kicks Baknarla's champion's @ss! He's never lost a single fight before." One adlet in the crowd yells crudely. I'll bet that that blue skinned guy wins! He looks strong and sturdy! And I don't like Worgrath!" Worgrath glares at him.
A richly clad adlet raises an eyebrow. "Well...I suppose as newcomers, you don't really understand our customs, do you? It's been the first bit of entertainment we've had for a while. Rules are simple. The odds are two is to one that the blueskinned guy loses. So I'll collect the bets, to a maximum of 8k. If you bet on Wograth, and he wins, you get what you put in and half more in gold pieces and items. If he loses, I keep everything. If you bet on the blue skinned guy, and he wins, I'll give you double the amount you put in, in gold and/or items. If he loses, I'll take everything. Believe, me, I've got quite the stash." He opens his sack and Mr Whiskers peeks in, catching sight of a pair of deliquescent gloves and a headband of vast intellect +4. "It'll totally be worth your while." He assures the party,then mingles with the crowd, totally at home, collecting bets in a sack of his.
Baknarla shakes her head, affronted. "That's simply disgusting. It's a duel to death and people are going to die and Adael is running around collecting bets?!"
"As a group!" Adael answers. "I have other bets to collect!"
Worgrath looks offended at the suggestion and clutches his sword possessively. He indicates you put the ghost-touch sword in the bag, then then goes to a tent, and takes out a belt, and puts in in the bag.
Adael examines the belt, and the sword, then accepts both bets.
Then the duel begins.
Worgrath moves in, then cuts Einar with strangely shaped curved blade.
Worgrath gets clubbed on the shoulder by the first blow but ducks past the other two.
Seeing he's up with a dangerous foe, he exhales a breath of cold.
Einar doesn't really bother about his chilly breath.
Then he falls upon Einar with a flurry of bladework and bite.
At the last moment, a blue shield emits from Einar and deflects the first blade strike, to Worgrath's surprise. Einar takes advantage of his distraction to clobber him twice, and he shakes his head to clear it from the impact of Einar's blows, while spitting out fangs. Einar figures that he's badly wounded."I've sent lots of people to Pharasma. I'll send you off today too!" Worgrath taunts.
But it seems that he seems desperate and losing his concentration, for they clang harmlessly off Einar's platemail and shield.
Einar swiftly clobbers Worgrath to the ground, then smashes his head, sending grey matter splattering all over the audience, of which those who bet on Einar are cheering delightedly, with the majority glowering at Einar.
"My champion has triumphed over your champion. Therefore the spirits are with me, and I declare you unworthy to lead the tribe." Baknarla declares proudly. "Guards - seize him and throw him out!" She orders.
"But...but...It can't be!" Wargrath sputters as he sees Einar handily defeat his brother. "My brother has never lost a single duel in his entire life!" He stares, shocked as the Adlet guards frogmarch him out of the encampment and throw him out. "My thanks to you, and as a reward you may have all of Wargrath's stash." Baknarla thanks Einar.
Einar goes back to Adael, who grumpily and disgruntledly pays up - he can either take the Belt of Giant Strength +4 or the Headband of Vast Intelligence +4
As winner of the trial by combat, Einar is also allowed to take Worgrath's possessions - an elven curved blade +1, and a haramaki +1
Ransacking Wargrath's opulent horde, the party finds furs and hides of strange creatures worth 1,000 gp, gems worth 1,000 gp, an Unfettered Shirt, feather step slippers, a Ring of manical devices
Baknarla then orders a great feast for the party in thanks for their services rendered, and starts making preparations for the invasion of Ivoryglass.
The feast consists of meat(of unknown origin) baked with some purple tuber and yellow root, tasting heavily of smoke, spicy dumplings of the another type of meat, and the barbequed carcass of a wolliped(which Talsune identifies), stuffed with the a yellow tuber as well as some spices that taste like cinnamon and staranise. Desert is a cake that looks like the shape of a shoe.
Baknarla informs the party that the adlets will only be ready to move out the next morning.
"No. You've just about bankrupted me." Adael sullenly answers.
Crummock knows that he's just exaggerating. You did, however put quite a dent in his finances.
Talsune tries to answer you with his mouth full of wolliped, resulting in a "Mmmph mmmph mmmph mmph!" sound coming from him.
After he finishes chewing his wolliped, he answers, "You see, our winters are long, but the summers are long too. Besides wollipeds thrive in winter weather well, so it isn't really hard to find a herd of them."
Mr. Whiskers approaches Adael and inquires about the headband. He mentions some of the weapons and armor the group has, figuring that such may be more popular with his clientele.
When Einar brings up the topic of the items won, he suggests "Perhaps Greta could use your old belt. As for the other items, wouldn't that ring help you the next time you insist you must get into a vault?"
As Mr Whiskers does the bartering of loot, Adael takes the ruby with a large humanoid moving in it, then furrows his eyebrows. "You know there's someone trapped in there, right? Its a soul gem. Crushing it would free whatever is inside. Of course, if you should still want, I can take that ruby for its value, but just thought you might like to know. "
Greta is happy to use Einar's old belt, once he gets all the blood and gore cleaned off.
The party and their dragonkin escort Mr Whiskers closer to the moulin, so he can drop his little spying eye in.
Scaling the icy, 200-foot-high cliff walls of the moulin requires successful DC 30 Climb checks.
Surrounding the palace are numerous outbuildings for the servants and subjects of Yrax, including guard posts, barracks for both dragonkin and Triaxians, drake ghettos, servant and slave quarters, smithies, storehouses, and wolliped pens.
The stone that Ivoryglass is made off has a strong abjuration aura that interferes with teleportation magic, doubling the percentage chance of a mishap, arriving off target, or appearing in a similar area. Short-range teleportation (such as dimension door) and planar travel are unimpeded, as are more powerful teleportation effects that lack a chance of arriving off target.
There are two types of patrols, the air patrols - a flying Drakelands Sorcerer accompanied by 4 frost drakes, and the ground patrols of a dragonkin accompanying 2 war hydras. Mr Whiskers figures that the invasion of the adlets will keep both types of patrols busy.
More problematic would be Yrax personal guards positioned at the gatehouse at Ivoryglass. They consist of 4 drakeland barbarians and a drakeland ice seer, and they stand out there all the time, being relieved by a second set of guards for breaks.
Mr. Whiskers frowns, seeing the gem there. "Yes, I'm aware of that." His voice carries a hint of distaste. "One of my comrades decided the imprisoned soul should be punished in this way. As we need to work together, I best return it to him. Hopefully someday I will convince him to release the soul."
I don't even know why it was in with the trade goods,
---
After the scouting expedition, Mr. Whiskers does his best to diagram out what he found. He mentions "Normal teleportation would be dangerous, but fortunately the spell I spoke of is anchored. Given that, I think it should be safe enough to use if we want it as an escape."
"So, which would people prefer? A quick escape or the possibility of Greta or Einar turning into a dragon?" This should be interesting! I hadn't mentioned before what the other option was.
--- After the war council ---
"Crummock, could we speak for a moment?"
Mr. Whiskers shows him the soul gem, saying "This was in with the trade goods. I wouldn't trade it, for obvious reasons. However, it does bring up a topic that caused quite a bit of tension between us."
"As I understand it, you now have a more effective way of preventing someone from being raised?" The way he says it is somewhere between a question and a statement, as if he isn't quite sure.
"Would you consider releasing the soul now?"
"I'll take the escape route. I dont need to be a dragon. Four armed Gargoyle is fine, so I can wear my armor." Greta answers.
Mr Whiskers asks Einar to smash the gem apart, which Einar obliges. "Pity about that gem," Adael remarks slightly yearning, "Rarely do you see a ruby of such size and clarity."
As the ruby is smashed, a 10-foot-tall blue humanoid wearing elaborate robes materializes. "Thank you, thank you, thank you so much for freeing me. I am Zilvazaraat, a peddler of wondrous wares from across the Great Beyond. Would you be interested in doing business, my most kind benefactors?"
He currently has +1 defiant (chaotic outsiders) mithral buckler, a +1 darkwood composite longbow (+4 Str) (2,830 gp), an elemental gem (fire) (2,250 gp), an oil of bless weapon (50 gp), a ring of sustenance (2,500 gp), a stonemist cloak (3,500 gp), a scroll of searing light (375 gp), a scroll of elemental body I (700 gp), and a wand of see invisibility (38 charges) (3,420 gp) available for sale.
Craning his neck up, Mr. Whiskers smiles. "Yes, I believe I would be interested in that."
Mr Whiskers recognises him as a mercane.
Zilvazaraat is only interested in magical items.
"Oh geez, a Genie in a bottlemerchant in a gem...who would have expected that..." Adael's voice trails off.
"Look. The planes are full of nasty creatures. I'd like some place safe to meet, where I dont get caught by some slaver." Zilvazaraat gives Mr Whiskers an obsidain raven figurine. "Send Blackie here to me with your shopping list and coordinates on the safe place to meet, and I'll jump in with the goods, if I can find them."
Nodding, Mr. Whiskers agrees. "Yes, that sounds acceptable. I imagine you have a few things you need to catch up on, anyways. Hope to do business with you soon!"
Crummock glares at Mr Whiskers.
"That gem... is *not* one of mine. It was one of the ones that the Denizen had in the Hut. If you recall, I asked you what it was, and no-one could identify it. I do not engage in the soul trade! My gems," he says, lifting his gem-encrusted gauntlet, "are right here, and that is where they shall stay..."
Embarrassed, Mr. Whiskers quickly says "I'm sorry! I had completely forgotten about the gem that the denizen had." Tilting his head to the side, he then asks "Are there any other items I've forgotten which need to be identified?"
I guess I'll have to wait even longer now before bringing up the gems again...
Crummock relaxes slightly, and sighs.
"Apology accepted. I can see how it might be an easy mistake to make. That said, I am a little hurt that ye could have thought it were possible; it would be akin to sellin' someone into slavery, and the couple o' times Einar has suggested doin' that, I was vehemently opposed to it..."
He thinks for a moment, before continuing.
"No, I dinae believe there be any other items that havnae been identified, at this time."