"Hey, are the potatoes ready yet?" Ziphora sticks her head in.
Yes, be absolutely, Tomorbataar pauses, repeating for emphasis, absolutely sure to remember the potatoes. It's a matter of life and death. Tomorbataar is able to just barely keep his voice together as he says this, and has to look away after he is done talking to avoid the gaze of the scout.
Hothead leans closer to Tomorbataar and whispers into his ear: "You liaaaaar..."
"Right," The scout says. "I'll make sure they know."
He turns and heads off, quickly leaving you behind. It's not too much longer, however, before you come to the wooden walls of the human nest, and see a familiar human standing on the wall watching you approach.
"Greetings again, all six of you," Sir Torlgrith says as soon as you're close enough that he doesn't have to shout. "Sergeant Rorl filled me in on what happened. Those bugbears would have been trouble for us, too, eventually. While you've been away, we had time to finish a couple of your shield-hats, and even some armor for you, Tomorbataar."
He signals, and the gates open. A couple men come out bearing wooden... hats, of a sort, and another exits carrying what looks like a bundle of planks sewn onto leather.
"We've also got plenty of food for you, including some baked potatoes," the human continues. Several more men come out bearing platters of meat, vegetables... and one entire plate of baked potatoes.
"Shield hats?" Ziphora looks at Sir Tolgrith dubiously."They don't look like dunce caps, do they? Got sky blue?"
Ziphora inspects the potatoes to see if they've been cooked the way she requested.
Tomorbataar recoils from Hothead, fear spreading across his face. [smaller]Shh[/smaller he breathes back, quietly and quickly.
As they return to the camp, Tomorbataar looks slightly uneasily, occasionally glancing at Hothead, but seems to relax when Torlgrith appears. Most good of you, I see that there are in fact potatoes. Tomorbataar looks closely for a moment before gobbling up the plainest looking one, skin and all.
Shall we see how well the armor fits?
Hothead looks at the wooden armours with a certain amount of distrust. "I don't know... They look a bit bulky, you know? And awfully flammable... You wouldn't happen to have anything a little less... restrictive?"
"I don't want armor!" Beachhead announces. "Instead, summon your finest craftsmen and tear a strip of black cloth long enough to be tied around my head, leaving a reasonable amount of lengths to flutter in the breeze. Then, cut out eyeholes that I can see through."
I think you could cover them in ice, then they'd not burn. But you'd have to keep it cold, otherwise the wood would get wet and rot... Tomorbataar swallows uncomfortably, and things would grow in it.
Speaking of black sashes, I should like a cape. It would make apparent my status as a leader.
Noticing that they are getting close to the fort, Tomorbataar votes to stop moving.
"Ah... hmm. I don't believe we have any black cloth, I'm afraid," Sir Torlgrith says, looking at Beachhead. He turns to Hothead. "We don't have anything now, but we can work on something for later for the next time you do something for us."
A couple of the humans carry the wooden armor over to Tomorbataar and start putting it on him (assuming he cooperates). There's also a light shield-equivalent hat and a heavy-shield equivalent hat.
"Hey Tom, you're not the boss of me." Ziphora draws herself up and tries to look down on Tom.
"No toppings? Why aren't there toppings? Its a culinary disaster!" She refuses to eat any potatoes, as she gives the humans an angry rant. "I may be a hydra head, but I've got standards, I'll have you know!"
"Design is fine, but its so plain."Ziphora turns up her nose at the shield hats. "You should carve imperial dragons all over it!"
Excellent, Tomorbataar says, flexing and moving through various poses, finding the wood only minimally restrictive. Now hold up that heavy hat and strap it across my chin when I put my head under it.
Once Tomorbataar is fully armored, he is a wooden sight to behold, looking substantially broader and more powerful, he moves with great ease despite the weight, and tests the strength of his armor by nibbling at it, though he is careful not to swallow any wood shavings.
Why would there be toppings, Zip? It's not like they could make it any plainer...
"Pui!"Ziphora spits on a potato. "Its an affront to the culinary arts to have a plain potato!" Ziphora sputters.
Maybe we could add a few eggs? That would be...eggxcelent. Tomorbataar looks evil, continuing to eat dry potatoes.
Hothead groans and rolls his eyes. "That pun was so bad, you should be eggxecuted for it,"
"WOW! You're all so PUNny! You should all become comedians." Hungry digs into the meat while everyone else worries about the lack of toppings on potatoes.
As the other heads leave Torlgrith alone for a moment, Hungry calls him over to him. Sir Torlgrith, since my siblings are making requests for when we work for you again, I have a request as well. I would like several Onyx Crystals that are of fine quality that I need for certain spells. Can you accomplish this?"
"You're egging me on. Bring the eggs!"
"And don't listen to him. He's going to use them for nefarious purposes like raising a whole army of undead zombies. And the zombie apocalypse will come to Golarion!" Ziphora yells after she hears the the conversation.
Do you mean comedihens, Hungry? Tomorbataar says, munching down yet another potato. And Zip, I thought egg puns were good with chicks?
Finishing the potatoes, Tomorbataar turns to the humans, Those sure were good, I should hope you have more at some other time, they must be worth a fortune. He is silent on the subject of undead, observing Hungry's reaction. No zombies, only skeletons...
"If you guys can make requests for the humans so can I! Not only zombies, SKELETONS TOO! It really all depends upon the state of the corpses that I try to animate. A zombie apocalypse is a bit beyond my capabilities, Zip. I appreciate the faith and confidence in my abilities, though!"
"Potatoes are not particularly difficult to acquire, actually," Sir Torlgrith replies, trying to keep a straight face through all the puns. "It just takes time to ship them here. I can request some extras in our next supply shipment, but until then, we don't have many left. As for onyx... I'll put in the request, but I wouldn't count on that being filled. We don't have that big of a budget here."
Hungry squints disapprovingly at Sir Torlfrith "OK." before his face relaxes and he sighs. "It's not like I'd reanimate you or your men. Humans are too squishy. If I reanimate something I'd want it to be tougher! Like one of those "Raptorbunnies"! or Moe!"
Mo, who is eating off to one side of you, seems completely oblivious to the conversation.
"You will not be doing that to Mo! He's our friend!" Ziphora draws herself to her full height. "I'll die first before I let you suceed!" The air begins to cackle with lightning, an indication of Ziphora's anger.
What's it matter what he does with Moe's corpse once it's dead? So long as the flesh is stripped from the bones, and you use that cleaning spell to make things all sparkle... Tomorbataar looks off into the distance, seemingly lost in thought. Hmm...maybe Zip is right...after all, she was blessed with the very same cleaning spell...and I wasn't. No, I must be in charge here, it's just a sign. Listen to her just this once.
On second thought, perhaps even the bones would be no good.
Turning to Torlgrith, that would be wise, I suggest you request two units of potatoes. Tomorbataar blinks knowingly.
"Hey, simmer down, Ziphora! We're having a discussion. Hungry hasn't done any dead-raising, yet. Anyway, look at Mo! He's in no condition for raising. Being all alive like he is.
"Anyway, I think we've settled everything we need to. What's next? Are we going to go find one of those things the lizardfolk's tablets talked about?"
Hothead thinks for a second that he has been able to decipher the mystery that is Torlgrith, but in the end the human remains just an unknowable as he has always been. "You're right Beachhead, we should get going," he says to the fellow head before turning back to Torlgrith. "We'll be doing our own things for some time, but we might drop by sometime if we happen to be near. See you around!"
"Yeah lets go check the mountain on the tablet's date, then the thassa-whatever culinary empire. " Ziphora replies.
Vote mountain, then we get the recipies
"Ah... hm. Well, I was actually going to tell you that we didn't have any requests for you at present, so that works well," Sir Torlgrith states.
Very well, we shall depart in the morning. Tomorbataar declares, then, without looking at any of the humans, quick, human, take a memo. Without pausing, Tomorbataar launches into a fairly rambling and disordered speech. For several days we had left the swamp and passed here and there at will, caring little for what might be found and looking only for food. The lack of cleanliness in the swamp had of course driven us out, and so it was that we came to the dry lands of the humans. There were several requests, and battles made with owls, giants, bears, and bugs, but at last, we emerged through our trials with rich reward, having claimed as our own one giant quartermaster and a set of human armor, wooden, as well as much food and three tablets seeming to indicate hidden treasure. In the morning we shall depart, win in our hair and sun at out backs, for the world is ours! Tomorbataar pauses, breathless, still not looking at the humans.
"Man, I hope someone wrote that down!"
They very well should have, it's not like I didn't give them a warning. Tomorbataar turns to the humans who may or may not still be there, well, what have you got to say for yourselves?
"Allright, I think we're more than ready to do our dramatic exit into the sunset,"
Vote to get out of here before Tomorbataar embarrases us further.
Hungry flips his bone wand in the air, "Heads!" "Hmmm, Ok."
Sir Torlgrith looks bemused. "I'm afraid I didn't have any parchment or ink," he states.
"Really? A human encampment without parchment or ink? Don't you two leggers have to send...things called reports to other two leggers?"
Beachhead votes to camp for the night.
What do you mean, no parchment or ink? Tomorbataar's voice changes to a bad, overly high and nasal imitation of Torlgrith when he says no parchment or ink. How do you send the reports? And how do you manage to miss writing down such an important note? Tomorbataar sighs, his head drooping slightly.
Tomorbataar votes to camp for the night.
"There's parchment and ink in my office," Sir Torlgrith explains with a longsuffering tone, "But I hardly had time to run down there, dig it out, uncap ink, come back up here, find somewhere to write, and keep up with Tomorbataar."
Hungry stifles a snicker at Tom's indignation and defeat at his rousing speech not being written down.
"All right. It's easily settled. We'll camp for the night, you'll bring us writing supplies, then we can get Tom's epic ballad down, and you can pass us some more writing supplies so Mo can record the tales of our adventures." Ziphora rattles. "Then we could probably make reproductions of those tales and distribute to the entire world, so everyone would know about how awesome we are. And the world will have more stories to read instead of boring dry texts." Ziphora finishes off.
Vote camp for night
Sir Torlgrith promises to have writing supplies ready when you return to the fort.
You make camp for the night in the 'nest' the humans had provided for you. Their breakfast send-off the next morning is more modest than the meal last night, but sufficient, and soon enough you're headed in the direction the lizardfolk said the mountain you're looking for should be.
The day passes swiftly, with nothing bothering you. You don't see much to eat, either, but there's still the last of the smoked meats and such that Moe is carrying.
"So as I was saying, this is Pacem."This time, Ziphora has learnt her lesson, and manifests him on a tree branch, out of her brothers reach."Now be good boys, and stop bothering the birdies. Pacem can fly further then we can stretch our heads, so he can see further then he can."
"Yup my name is Pacem. And I believe in love and peace." He gives a demonstration of flying about 100 ft away from the hydraheads, then returning to his tree branch.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"I'm sorry that I scared you, earlier, Pacem. I thought it would be funny.
"Well, it was funny. But I thought that you would also find it funny.
"Well, no. I suppose I wasn't considering whether or not you would find it funny. But I didn't realize that you would disappear and Ziphora would get upset.
"Well, I suppose I'm more concerned that anyone was upset with me, specifically.
"Anyway, sorry. There's a good chance I'll eventually do it again."
Tomorbataar looks uncomfortable as Torlgrith explains why he didn't write anything down, but just shakes his head. That's a great idea Zip, I suppose they should bring us some writing supplies. As he finishes the sentence Tomorbataar looks to Torlgrith again, hoping that he will help them out.
After Pacem materialized Tomorbataar looks at Zove. That might be useful, if he can scout ahead and get some idea of what lies ahead, we might get better chances to prepare ourselves for fights, and to negotiate with whatever odd two legged beings happen to be nesting before us.
Let's not mess about with our fragile friends.
Ziphora shakes her head, confused at Beachhead."Are you sorry, for scaing Pacem or not? If you're sorry, why are you saying you'll do it again?"
Ziphora replies to Tomobataar,"He can go far ahead, but he can't speak when he's further then 30 ft from me. However, he can deliver messages. Which is why writing supplies is important. Mo can help us write stuff."
Ziphora shakes her head, confused at Beachhead."Are you sorry, for scaing Pacem or not? If you're sorry, why are you saying you'll do it again?"
"It's complicated."