"Life is not a pretty dance with a fair maiden in the sunshine. Nor is it a song or an endless rainbow. It is a hard struggle for survival. We live. We work. We breed. We die. If the crone can help us find the cause of these affronts to the natural order, I will accept her help. But I mislike her meddling with the cycle of life and death."
Lyrica does not wish to argue with the druid, but cannot help but comment on the dancing. "Master Wynn, I imagine you see the natural order of life more than anyone I know. I am still young, but I do know that life is filled with great hardship. Clearly all of the people of our village have met with death, but I still hope that the sun will shine again and there will ever be cause for dancing!"
- - - - - - -
"Need makes strangers of us all, girl. Welcomed or no, people come to my door. Even unwelcomed, here you are, eh? Ha!"
"Well met, Lady Zarzana. I apologize if I offend you. I'm also sorry that we have not met before. I have known of you, but have never taken the time to become acquainted with you. I suppose some good things come out of evil circumstances. I am Lyrica Strom from the village and you probably already know of my companions. We thought perhaps we could learn of the black mist that has come to our land and be able to help each other. Truly we will be stronger should we stand united. May we kindly speak with you?"
Jak regards the strange little woman. "Lyrica's right. We wondered if you were troubled by the mist, and I was hoping you might help us with some information..." He keeps the smile from his lips, "... but also on the way over I'm finding our group has need of a remedy for an over-abundance of preaching... what ya got for that?"
"... but also on the way over I'm finding our group has need of a remedy for an over-abundance of preaching... what ya got for that?"
Lyrica gives Jak a knowing smile.
Perhaps Jak is right, maybe I have become a little too preachy. I must remember that even Jak will find his own way. He's just had a different way of getting there than me.
"Well met, Lady Zarzana. I apologize if I offend you. I'm also sorry that we have not met before. I have known of you, but have never taken the time to become acquainted with you. I suppose some good things come out of evil circumstances. I am Lyrica Strom from the village and you probably already know of my companions. We thought perhaps we could learn of the black mist that has come to our land and be able to help each other. Truly we will be stronger should we stand united. May we kindly speak with you?"
Diplomacy DC:26
or Bluff (using same roll) DC:20
The hag sniffs around the door and goes quiet. "Lady? Are you trying to play me, girl? I see the Strom in your face and hair... and I know what your mother thinks of me and mine. It ain't by chance that we never met. You'll anger me to claim another truth." She goes quiet for a moment and then scuttles to another spot, another knot-hole. "Who else is there, hm? I see a Howell if I'm not mistaken. The bones tell all. Your ma was a welcomed guest, youngster."
She moves again and an eye appears at a rather large knot-hole. It is rheumy and glazed with white. "Ah, and there is the Bonesetter. I thought I knew the voice." The eyes shifts back and forth, bulging out as the hag presses her face against the door. "And two more besides. Men of the woods. Well! Seems I'm to host a party in my palace. Heh heh heeee!"
The hag moves to the knot-hole closest to Lyrica, regarding her with the cataracted eye. Zarzanna's tone becomes earnest and quiet, almost as if she speaks to herself or some other intimate. "We will talk, then we'll see who helps who and who stands together. Won't we?"
Our heroes hear the hag grunt as she moves something heavy from the other side of the door. It cracks open a sliver as the old woman steps away from it. "Come in, if it pleases you, honored guests." She cackles at the formality of it.
"I see a Howell if I'm not mistaken. The bones tell all. Your ma was a welcomed guest, youngster."
Jak gives her a respectful smile and nod, "It's kindly said and appreciated. Ma spoke well of you. It's why we're here, actually."
Jak accepts the offer to enter, moving to the door, though he waits at the threshold for Lyrica to enter first. No reason to show ill-manners, he thinks with an inward sigh.
"Lady? Are you trying to play me, girl? I see the Strom in your face and hair... and I know what your mother thinks of me and mine. It ain't by chance that we never met. You'll anger me to claim another truth."
Lyrica's face goes pale as her pride is bruised and her attempt at diplomacy goes awry.
In the name of the Everlight, who is this woman? I see why my mother kept me away from her. She is a far cry from any respectable lady I have met! Patience, Lyrica! Remember to look for the goodness in her!
Lyrica smiles politely, but makes no attempt to refute Zarzana's accusation.
The hag grunts as she moves something heavy from the other side of the door. It cracks open a sliver as the old woman steps away from it. "Come in, if it pleases you, honored guests."
Lyrica accepts Jak's kind gesture to enter first. She bravely steps forward into the home, but she is far from comfortable in this place.
Now, I wonder why Jak let me enter first? Hmm? Is this his way of showing manners, or he is simply afraid to enter first?
Once Lyrica enters the hovel, she looks around for insight into this hag. Is she evil, is she good? Who is this lady? Although she looks around, she does not touch anything!
Aerik walks into the hag's home silently.
The door creaks open and a wave of alder smoke hits the party. Along with the smell, a fetid reek, it causes some to gag a bit. The tallest have to stoop to enter the home. Zarzanna's place is well and truly a rough-hewn and arched cave, no more than 15' at its widest and stretching straight back into the hillside approximately 30'. At the far back is a wider semi-circular chamber with a stone bench carved out of the wall on three sides. At the furthest extreme is a hearth and cauldron at a low boil. The old woman kicks at the fire and sorts through a messy shelf for ingredients to add to the brew. She pays the heroes little mind as they advance... which is not an easy task.
Walking from the doorway to the back chamber is an obstacle course. They step over and around collections of skins, bones, plants, rocks, and small barrels filled with Gods-know-what. All the while they must brush aside or avoid hanging meats, bunches of drying herbs, and an impressive collection of taxidermied and preserved animals tied to the cave roof in action poses. A seagull in flight stares down at the party, its mouth open to screech.
When they enter the back chamber, they finally see Zarzanna. She is a stooped and bony old woman with a shaggy mane of grey hair and a face so wrinkled, it could pass for a prune. By the firelight, her one good eye glitters black. The other is, as previously seen through the door, a rheumy white thing that seems to stare everywhere and nowhere. Her clothes are threadbare, patched, and dirty. There is a smell of dirt and mold about her... which is fitting because she looks to be about a decade older than dirt.
She leans a flat pan on the flaming logs heating the cauldron and nods a greeting. Her hooked nose and stooped shoulders make the gesture seem vaguely reminiscent of a pale vulture eyeing game. She indicates the bench following the curve of the wall with a knobby-knuckled hand. "Sit. Talk."
This was your idea, Jak, he thinks as he shrugs off his pack, setting it down on the stone bench, Might as well jump in. He kneads the muscles of one shoulder while taking the cave in. "Nice place you have here," he begins, sounding surprisingly sincere. He gives the woman a charming grin,"Cozy. I like that."
He looks to his right and is confronted with a stuffed badger baring its fangs at him. He pokes it twice on the nose as he continues. "Like I said outside, I wanted to first make sure you're okay. The Drear is in a bad way, and – whether everyone in town sees you as one of us or not – all of us are in this thing together. I thought it only right to make sure that black mist didn't do you any harm."
Zarzanna takes a stick from the bench, pokes the contents of the cauldron a few times, and scowls. "Half hour, maybe, and it'll be ready." She waves the stick loosely in Jak's direction. "The Mist came. Thin as a ghost it was. Followed the wisdom of the crow, I did. I got out of its way."
"I saw smoke rising from Drear on the dawn. I hoped it was just a fire but there were skulls in it. Bad sign. Were those pyres, then? How many were lost?"
"Half hour, maybe, and it'll be ready."
A thirty-minute sand hour-glass immediately flips over in Jak's mind. Thirty minutes to be back on the trail before we're subjected to whatever's in that pot, he thinks without letting it show on his face.
"I saw smoke rising from Drear on the dawn. I hoped it was just a fire but there were skulls in it. Bad sign. Were those pyres, then? How many were lost?"
Jak nods bleakly, suddenly seeing the terrible fires as if he were standing there again. "Over twenty-five dead or disappeared at most recent count. Didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason we could figure as to who or what the mist took. And it did terrible things to some of those it touched… created monsters and what-not." He wipes his face in an attempt to wipe back the memories, then looks over at the crone, "But I'm glad to hear that you weren't really affected."
He pauses for a few minutes, looking around in thought, "Another thing happened that I wonder if you could shed any light on. I was down-river when the mist came through. Old Man Ruske's bones stood up and tried to kill me. When they dropped back down, they formed a word before sliding right back down into the river. 'Angarak'." Jak tips his head over towards the druid, "Aerik said he saw a rock formation up-mountain before that was called 'Angarak's Teats', but we don't know anything beyond that. Some simple triangulation shows that it could be near the source of the mist. But we don't know what the rocks are or anything. My ma always said you had more information than people gave you credit for. I was wondering if you knew anything about the Teats or Angarak itself."
A thirty-minute sand hour-glass immediately flips over in Jak's mind. Thirty minutes to be back on the trial before we're subjected to whatever's in that pot, he thinks without letting it show on his face.
"Over twenty-five dead or disappeared at most recent count. Didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason we could figure as to who or what the mist took..."
The hag blinks twice. Clearly, the figure was higher than she imagined. She looks at all of the heroes, reading the individual losses in their expressions, "That's a heavy toll and a heavy burden."
"Another thing happened that I wonder if you could shed any light on. I was down-river when the mist came through. Old Man Ruske's bones stood up and tried to kill me. When they dropped back down, they formed a word before sliding right back down into the river. 'Angarak'." Jak tips his head over towards the druid, "Aerik said he saw a rock formation up-mountain before that was called 'Angarak's Teats', but we don't know anything beyond that. Some simple triangulation shows that it could be near the source of the mist. But we don't know what the rocks are or anything. My ma always said you had more information than people gave you credit for. I was wondering if you knew anything about the Teats or Angarak itself."
The crone almost smiles and lets out a subdued cackle that turns into a cough. "Not 'Teats'... Teeth. Angarak's Teeth." She taps a broken nail against one of her remaining teeth to demonstrate before turning deadly serious. "I've never seen the Teeth... but I know they're up there. Just like I know the Prophecy, o' course. But Angarak hisself... he's a mystery. Some say he's among the Fallen, a heathen God overthrown. Some say he's a Lord of the Dead - an Elder Vampyr waiting a chance to return. Others call him a Spirit of Evil that plagues the living - immortal. The only thing they all agree on... corruption and evil follow his coming. That's what's said."
Marcus stoops to enter Zarzanna's home, setting down his shield and backpack and standing, hunched and awkward, until invited to sit. Even then he's no more comfortable, fidgeting and looking around with unease. When his eyes fall on the stuffed rat he starts, then thinks to himself:
Nah, couldn't be. Was a trick of the light, nothing more.
He listens carefully, though not thrilled about the occupant of the cave or her choice of decor, Marcus knew the importance of shelter and fire, especially in times like these.
I am grateful for your fire and hospitality, Miss Zarzanna. What you're sayin' about this Angarak--it sounds like something, a mage, vampire, Fallen, whatever you call it, somethin' powerful would need to send this mist. Even the moon bled when it came. How can we stand against such evil, us with no magicks on our side? Can you see the path that lies ahead?
The hag considers the question and fires off a few of her own. "At the funeral, did you grieve? Did you cry? Do you seek vengeance?"
Yes. I seek a bloody end to whatever called the mist on our town, our people. But...I'm not sure I'll get it.
She points her stir-stick at the Ranger. "Then you already walk the path of the Prophecy. You need only follow it and you will succeed... or you'll die, probably, if you are not the ones."
Ezekiel allows the more talkative and younger members of the group to do the talking for now, his mind elsewhere. He pays little attention to the conversation, his mind on the events leaving the Drear. As they make their way around through Zarzanna's home, he absently stares at several of the animals as they move to sit. "There was something, wasn't there, a look in her eyes? The eyes. Wait, what about the eye?" Ezekiel focuses on one of the animals for a moment, his mind playing tricks on him.
Sitting down, he listens as they talk of Angarak and this great evil. His mind continues to wander, though now about the animasl about. "There's something here, something I'm missing, but what?" He knows he should be listening, the talks sounding like a scary story told when he was younger if the mist had never came. The talk of prophecy at least he readily dismisses. Turning back to the first animal that had caught his attention, his thoughts come a little more focused, and a sudden question seems urgent enough to interrupt.
"Zarzanna, are you certain no mist made it inside of here?"
The old lady snorts, "Hunh? I wasn't here when it came... but come inside it did. It ruined a batch I was brewing!"
Ezekiel visibly pales at Zarzanna's words. "What if I wasn't imagining it..."
Ezekiel glances across the hut for a moment, looking at the stuffed animal carcasses scattered across the room, his eyes settling on a paricularly large wharf rat. "You keep any pets?"
"Back in Dies Drear, we saw a goat consume other creatures, and it started getting larger. From the looks of it, it wasn't something unique either, but probably an invention of the mist. A mist which, as you say, came in here. Not sure what it may do..."
The crone sees where Ezekiel's hard glance is going. "No, no... Burlap! Come'ere ya wee love!"
The massive and foul looking rat, 20 pounds of it, shakes free of its statuesque pose and leaps from the bench near Lyrica. It bolts across the floor and slides under the hag's skirts, nearly toppling the old woman. Its red eyes stare out from under the tattered frock. Zarzanna explains, "He's my friend."
Ezkiel watches the rat run across the floor and to it's refuge, before he falls back down to the bench, exhaling a sigh of relief. "My apologies. It seems I'm losing my manners in addition to my mind, threatening a friend of our hostess like that."
The hag keeps one hand canted in an odd position... ready to cast a spell perhaps? With the other, she scratches the oversized rat behind the ears. It seems to enjoy the knobby handed contact. Her eyes never leave the Alchemist. "He's a good boy, just not a pretty one. I'd be very upset if harm came to him."
The massive and foul looking rat, 20 pounds of it, shakes free of its statuesque pose and leaps from the bench near Lyrica.
The young paladin, who is trying very hard not to further offend Zarzanna, likely does so again. As the massive rat leaps onto the bench, Lyrica is taken completely by surprise, as she shrieks involuntarily as she immediately rises to her feet.
After the rat scurries away, she tries to regain some composure, but likely to little effect.
"I'm sorry, I did not realize that your rat was, uhmm . . . real."
Dear Sarenrae, help me! That rat is disgusting and she keeps it in this house like a pet! Dear Everlight help her!
The young paladin, who is trying very hard not to further offend Zarzanna, likely does so again. As the massive rat leaps onto the bench, Lyrica is taken completely by surprise, as she shrieks involuntarily as she immediately rises to her feet.
After the rat scurries away, she tries to regain some composure, but likely to little effect.
"I'm sorry, I did not realize that your rat was, uhmm . . . real."
Dear Sarenrae, help me! That rat is disgusting and she keeps it in this house like a pet! Dear Everlight help her!
Aerik looks at the large rat with surprise.
"The rat's... fondness for you is intriguing. We mean no offense. And we certainly won't be harming you or your pet within your own home. "
Aerik gives a half smile to Zeke and Lyrica, trying to "lighten" the mood, so to speak.
"We are most greatful for your hospitality, and yet I think it might be passed time we were leaving. Before we do though, I'm wondering if you might be willing to give us some details of that prophecy of which you were speaking?"
If Zarzanna is offended by Lyrica's reaction, it doesn't show. She coos to the dog-sized rat and continues to scratch it. Warmed by the Druid's response, her dour face softens some. "Ah! You don't know the Prophecy? Then I will recite what is known of it..." She closes her eyes and chants the words, slow and dolorous.
Prophecy of the Silent Gods
When Angarak's scream mounts the heights
His burning tongue splits wide the sky.
Then blood will stain the face of night
As the Undying learn what it is to die.
To shadow's breath, will the lowly fall...
While the long interred shall rise unbound.
As the wrathful weep beneath the pyre's pall,
In loss’ crucible, a cause is found.
The Gods, in silence, watch and wait
As Angarak’s fangs bleed deep the night.
Breaking teeth, the vengeful sunder fate
Setting crimson wrong to stainless right.
"That is all that is known of the Prophecy, and perhaps that is all there is. But my bones tell me there are more verses."
"Mam?" Lyrica asks, in an effort to redeem her actions. "What part of the prophecy do you think has been fulfilled? Does the phrase 'To shadow's breath, will the lowly fall . . . ' refer to the mist that has taken so many lives? Have we found the cause yet in loss' crucible?"
"Seems to me like we are the vengeful, if this prophecy is to be believed. Sounds like we need to go smash them teeth. I for one, would love to smash something right about now."
""At the funeral, did you grieve? Did you cry? Do you seek vengeance?"
""Seems to me like we are the vengeful, . . . "
Oh dear God, what is happening that we have become the vengeful? Even Zarzanna has asked if we seek vengeance! This cannot be what Sarenrae has planned for me? How is it that I am to seek vengeance and all I want is for things to be back to normal. I wish my dear mother was here. Dear Sarenrae, where is my mama?
As Lyrica reflects on the prophecy and the words spoken by both Zarnzarra and Aerik, emotions suddenly swell up in her, and tears come to her eyes. She wipes them away, trying not to give her tender state away, but she simply does not want to accept the fact that her life is now different and she will not be able to go back to that previous time in her life at all.
The hag nods at Aerik's assessment but speaks to both the Druid and the Paladin. "It is a hazard to read much into prophecies. But he", she looks to Marcus, "...is full of wrath and has wept at the foot of a funeral pyre. As have you all, I expect. And your cause seems fixed - to destroy Angarak's evil. Would you have found that goal if Drear wasn't touched by tragedy and fate, I wonder? Is that rightly a crucible of loss that sets you on a path of vengeance?"
Marcus sits deep in thought, contemplating the words of the prophecy.
If the words are to be believed, things could be put right again. But why do the gods watch and wait?
With these horrors still fresh in our memories, the words seem to tell our story, yes, but I can't say I ever took a prophecy to be the truth, but only to tell people the things they already wanted to believe anyway. Where did you here of these verses in the first place?
""It is a hazard to read much into prophecies. But he", she looks to Marcus, "...is full of wrath and has wept at the foot of a funeral pyre. As have you all, I expect. And your cause seems fixed - to destroy Angarak's evil. Would you have found that goal if Drear wasn't touched by tragedy and fate, I wonder? Is that rightly a crucible of loss that sets you on a path of vengeance?"
"Mam, I know that I have wept at the passing of my dear mother, and the horrors are great, but I do not yet know of the evil that has caused this. I do not wish to be a vengeful person, I only wish that this evil would stop and that we would save those who are lost. I also wish I could have done something to stop this tragedy from unfolding, but I don't think there is anything I can do about that now, but I will still cling to hope that we put the rest to right!"
Still trying to settle his nerves from the mist/rat scare, Jak sits back down on the stone bench as he listens to the discussion on the prophecy. It was certainly nothing he'd ever heard before. It sounds to be just as full of hog-slop as a palm reader's drivel, Jak thinks as he watches the old woman.
"I'm not saying the prophecy isn't true," Jak adds to the conversation, though his tone clearly conveys his skepticism. "Maybe the prophecy applies to us. Maybe it doesn't. Maybe it's a load of worm-filled mule squat. Either way, we have a damn good reason to be pissed about this, and just because we're vengeful doesn't mean that what we do isn't also justice." Jak looks over at Lyrica, "And if your Dawnflower isn't' just as pissed about this as we are, then maybe she doesn't deserve to be followed. I choose to believe all the gods – at least all the ones worth praying to – are on our side on this thing." He shrugs, muttering, "Not that I'm an authority on any of the gods… though I like to think me and Desna have a certain arrangement."
Marcus sits deep in thought, contemplating the words of the prophecy.
"With these horrors still fresh in our memories, the words seem to tell our story, yes, but I can't say I ever took a prophecy to be the truth, but only to tell people the things they already wanted to believe anyway."
The hag looks sharply at him. "You speak some truth. Many are the prophecies spun by the wicked to beguile others, to part them from their coins or their lives. And many are the gullible who see themselves in every prophecy because they wish it to be so... But some prophecies are true prophecies and to deny that is to sew destruction."
"No prophecy can say all that will befall a man. Only the past, once done, is completely written. True prophecies are the scribbled notes from which the Fated will set their path and have it set for them."
"You must choose your course and see if the prophecy travels the same path. Only then will you know if the prophecy is true and if you are a part of it."
"Where did you hear of these verses in the first place?"
"The Silent Gods Prophecy is very old and all but forgotten now. It comes from the bones of the world... for the world will suffer greatly from it. This is my truth. But some say that the prophecy was given to Arcathon the Seer and he penned it in the First Book of Spheres." She shrugs at the possibility.
Once Burlap is calm, Zarzanna moves to sit down on the bench leaving the massive rat laying by the fire, stretched out and snoring. She stretches out her crusty and calloused feet with a pleasurable sigh. "I will tell you a thing not in the Prophecy but just as true as I believe it to be. Every night, the Blood Moon will rise. On her face, the cursed wound will change. The power of the servants of the Blood Moon will wax and wane with it."
Zarzanna puts her hands up. Using the firelight coming from beneath the cauldron, she creates flickering shadow puppets on the wall - a dark sky with a full moon. With a bit of stick, she mars the moon's face with a hand print. "When the Hand is in the Moon, beware the dead. Their strength is great."
Dropping the stick, she uses a craggy hand to create a snarling wolf's head. "When the Wolf claims the Moon, fear the skinwalkers and shapeshifters."
The hag reorients her fingers and upon the flickering moon appears a set of horns sticking from a shapeless head. "When the Horns entangle the Moon, beware those that come not from our world - demons and devils."
She rests her hands in her lap. "Other shapes there may be, but of these I am certain."
"...I do not wish to be a vengeful person, I only wish that this evil would stop and that we would save those who are lost."
Zarzanna uses a twig to clean some intractable dirt from between her toes, speaking mildly, "If the Prophecy is true and you are the Wrathful spoken of... then Angarak's Teeth must be broken to set things right. Wishing will not stop this evil."
"I'm not saying the prophecy isn't true," Jak adds to the conversation, though his tone clearly conveys his skepticism. "Maybe the prophecy applies to us. Maybe it doesn't. Maybe it's a load of worm-filled mule squat..."
Zarzanna snorts at this. "Your family I know. In these thoughts, young Howell, you are your father's son, much as young Strom is her..." she cuts the thought off. "Believe what you will. I have offered freely what many would gladly pay to learn. I should have named a price, then you'd listen more carefully. Charity is my undoing. Cheaply bought is cheaply valued."
"Your family I know. In these thoughts, young Howell, you are your father's son…
Jak gives her a grin, "I've been called worse."
"I should have named a price, then you'd listen more carefully. Charity is my undoing. Cheaply bought is cheaply valued."I should have named a price, then you'd listen more carefully. Charity is my undoing. Cheaply bought is cheaply valued."
"Actually, I'd trust your words less if you asked me to buy them. Calls into question the intentions of the giver. I don't know any Arcathon the Whos-it, and I've never heard of the Circle Book of Whatevers, but it seems like our current plans still stand, unless someone has a better idea." He nods respectfully to Zarzanna, "Other than being warned with some very good information about some moon images, I think having a look up at Angarak's Teeth is the next step. Though if it can be done quickly, checking back in with the folks back home on our way by might be smart."
"If the Prophecy is true and you are the Wrathful spoken of... then Angarak's Teeth must be broken to set things right. Wishing will not stop this evil."
"Do Angarak's Teeth refer to this demi god's actual teeth or a two mountain peaks that Jak thought were teets? I can understanding breaking actual teeth, but how could you break a mountain?"
When Lyrica hears the hag refer to her as a young Strom, a strong sense of family pride swells in her, but also a sense of curiosity as Zarzanna does not finish her sentence.
"Your family I know. In these thoughts, young Howell, you are your father's son, much as young Strom is her..."
"How do you know my mother, Zarzanna? Have you ever spoken with her before?"
"Do Angarak's Teeth refer to this demi god's actual teeth or a two mountain peaks that Jak thought were teets?
Jak's eyebrows raise and he points a finger at Marcus, muttering, "His words... not mine."
"Do Angarak's Teeth refer to this demi god's actual teeth or a two mountain peaks that Jak thought were teets?Jak's eyebrows raise and he points a finger at Aerik, muttering, "His words... not mine."
"Do Angarak's Teeth refer to this demi god's actual teeth or a two mountain peaks that Jak thought were teets?Jak's eyebrows raise and he points a finger at Marcus, muttering, "His words... not mine."
But we figured it out in the end, didn't we? Hell, I'm grateful for the news--much easier to break teeth than, er, teats, I suspect. As for Miss Strom's questions, Marcus turns to the bonesetter.
I'm thinking Zeke might have a few ideas on how to bring down a mountain, no?
"Hell, I'm grateful for the news--much easier to break teeth than, er, teats, I suspect.
The hag cracks a wide semi-toothed grin and cackles in delight.
"How do you know my mother, Zarzanna? Have you ever spoken with her before?"
The hag gets up to poke at the fire and rolls the large rat over as his wiry hairs begin to smoke. "So, you're to go up the mountain then... to the Teeth?"
"How do you know my mother, Zarzanna? Have you ever spoken with her before?""So, you're to go up the mountain then... to the Teeth?"
Lyrica wonders why her question is being avoided.
"Yes we plan to go to the teeth, but with all due respect mam, you did not answer my question. My mother has recently passed away, and I was kindly asking you how you knew her. I was just wondering if you ever exchanged words before? I thought you were about to say that I was just like her and I want to know why you think that is true, if indeed that is what you were going to say."
Zarzanna mutters to herself and jabs at the fire with her stick, not liking the Paladin's persistence. Sensing his mistress' troubled mood, the rat wakes with a snort and looks up. The hag eyes the rodent and addresses him quietly, "I know, I know. She's not like to let it go, is she?" She tosses the remnants of the stick in the fire and scowls at the young woman. Her answer is very cautious, "I never had cause to talk with your mother and I wasn't 'bout to say you was like her."
I'm thinking Zeke might have a few ideas on how to bring down a mountain, no?
Ezekiel, having begun to have his thoughts drift back, snaps back to the present. "I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I'm afraid I wouldn't know where to begin."
His bed-side manners taking over at Lyrica's prodding of Zarzanna, as well as finding an excuse to leave the hut, Ezekiel makes a recommendation. "Perhaps the rest of us should wait outside and figure out our next step, unless someone else has any other questions for our hostess?"
"Perhaps the rest of us should wait outside…
"Spoilsport," Jak mutters as he gets up and grabs his pack, once more settling it on his shoulders with a grunt. "Remind me to pack lighter for our next trip, he says to Marcus as he begins the delicate process of working his way through the maze of preserved animals and hanging meats.