Zanven looks to the new arrival, lowering his stance and raising his fists in a defense posture.
I've no servants here, I only stumbled upon this camp and have no knowledge of what brought them here. Are you off the new empire? He speaks in a rather calm voice, but puts noticeable disdain at the words "new empire"
After a shirt breather, the camp defenders set about cleaning the place up, a small group of them went to gather the horses that fled, while the others tended to the wounded. The dead, luckily one, was wrapped up in a white sheet as to Octavian's orders and a prier was starting to be built just outside of the camp.
Though the new arrival had stilled some of the defenders, their grips on their weapons were tired but willing as this new arrival seemed off. Ishak was one of the first to speak up, "You not help? Who are you." His voice was strained, as much as a kobold could speak, the words came off more of a growl then anything. It seemed the word 'servants' got under any ones skin who was within earshot of the mirrored man.
Thomen is too busy helping those in need (including himself) to notice the new stranger approaching.
As people is gathered around him, Thomen goes to them one on one and gives them a small present: a silver ring.
-Here, take this. It will allow me to protect you better in the future.
He gives one to Octavian, one to Jietin, one to Iraldia, one to Breewyn (and one to bind them all in darkness :P).
The last one, he's trying to decide who is he giving it to.
-The little halfling knows how to take care of himself, he doesn't seem to need it. Now, what? The Tengu, or the Half-Orc?
"Aye, and ye'd best be watchin' who ye're callin' servants 'round 'ere," Tsakua includes with a snarl. The large half-orc had been moving debris and large bone fragments left behind by the giant skeleton that had attacked. Upon hearing the newcomers speak, he moved over to intervene should trouble arise.
After a brief ceremony honoring Goomie and the fallen defender both, Pazeek moves to help clean up the camp and aid, as best as he can, in the various recovery aspects. His tracking abilities provide considerable aid in locating the camp's vanished livestock, while his skill in managing animals--though focused on hipppgriffs--proves equally useful in getting them calmed and under control for others to handle. He then turns his efforts into rounding up the gear once used by the defeated skeletons, making sure mention to one of the others involved in this effort the cache of similar equipment recovered from the skeletons who ambushed the kobolds. He also takes a moment to dig out and turn over the small pouch containing the gold and sapphire looted from that batch of fallen foes.
He then turns his efforts to patching up the various wounds to be found among those who've spent the evening fighting for their lives. The effort burns through the contents of his little healer's kit at a ferocious rate, but Pazeek doesn't stint on the supplies, even though restocking them out here won't be exactly easy. However, his efforts do ensure that the various sources of magical healing available are spent on those most in need or, and Pazeek takes a moment to mutter a quick prayer against ill fortune to avert this possibility, reserved in case of a follow-up attack later in the night.
Pazeek looks up as the new arrival makes his presence known. The strange duplication effect lets the tengu know that this potential threat has at least some knowledge of magic, and he groans in annoyance. Only the fact the this human doesn't seem to be part of the camp's recent undead assault keeps Pazeek's weapons from being drawn, though the assumption that they're all servants to the other human, still unnamed, draws a snort of amusememt from Pazeek. It seems that this Ilya has certain opinions that were going go over quite interestingly in the camp, especially when Jietin hears them.
Result: Success. Patient heals 1 hp/level, + 3 extra hp.
Result: Failure. No retry. However, if someone with the Heal skill notices Pazeek having some trouble with this injury and wants to contribute an aid another check to bring the result just high enough to succeed, then patient heals 1 hp/level.
Result: Success. Patient heals 1 hp/level, + 3 extra hp.
Result: Failure. Retry.
Result: Success. Patient heals 2 hp/level for taking 8 hours of rest or 4 hp/level for taking 24 hours of rest.
Result: Success. Patient heals 2 hp/level for taking 8 hours of rest or 4 hp/level for taking 24 hours of rest.
Result: Success. Patient heals 2 hp/level for taking 8 hours of rest or 4 hp/level for taking 24 hours of rest.
Result: Success. Patient heals 2 hp/level for taking 8 hours of rest or 4 hp/level for taking 24 hours of rest.
Result: Success. Patient heals 2 hp/level for taking 8 hours of rest or 4 hp/level for taking 24 hours of rest.
Result: Failure. Retry.
Result: Success. Patient heals 2 hp/level for taking 8 hours of rest or 4 hp/level for taking 24 hours of rest.
Octavian turns at the newcomer's appearance and scrutinized him from across the camp. He had given the human who had arrived with the rescue group the stinkeye but Zanven's willingness to throw in with the escaped slaves without a thought for himself made everyone in the camp give him a chance.
This other though...the way he had approached the group, waiting until they were all tired and out of magic after the battle, approaching with weapons out. Several quips popped into his head but Octavian decided to wait and observe from the background and see how the rougher members of his group responded to this arrogant mage.
Breewyn set about the task of summoning forth curative energies to heal the wounded of the camp. So focused on her task was she, that she didn't even notice the multiple man come up and address them so rudely. When she finished, she looked rather drained and wiped the sweat from her forehead.
** spoiler omitted **
Breewyn set about the task of summoning forth curative energies to heal the wounded of the camp. So focused on her task was she, that she didn't even notice the multiple man come up and address them so rudely. When she finished, she looked rather drained and wiped the sweat from her forehead.
Zanven, eyes still on the new arrival goes up to one of whom he has come to see to be one of the leaders of the camp here who caught his eye due to similar fighting styles offering him a small vial of red liquid (CLW potion) before speaking in a lower voice to try and keep the new arrival from overhearing.
"Here, this should help with any wounds, a show of good faith. My name is Zanven, a wanderer if you will. I was, hrm, directed, this way by a chance greeting with someone, or, something. Apparently it knew you might need help. If that is the case, and if this is a haven for those against this new king's empire, then I would offer you my protection, at least for a time if you would have it."
He then takes a small pause, then as he glances around the camp speaks again. "Not that I necessarily think you need it, but more help is always a welcome thing where I am from, and honestly, I need a place to stay and feel relatively safe, I am exhausted from traveling through the wilds alone." He glances to his rather diminished pack goods and items.
"I also noticed you fight with your fists, did you have a tutor, or were you self taught? I know not the style which you use."
he glances down at his fists. Maybe that being was divine, my strikes have had greater power since we met...
"Well, ye've the looks of a fighter about ye, that's fer sure," Tsakua says, accepting the vial. Opening it, he sniffs it, and recognizing the potion, downs it in one gulp.
"M'thanks fer that," the half-orc responds. "Judgin' by th'trouble we're gettin', we could use all th'help we c'n get." Letting his gaze leave the newcomer and his dopplegangers, Tsakua glances at Zanven and adds, "An' ye're more'n welcome t'rest fer a bit, but we do try t'trade work fer food."
At Zanven's latest question, Tsakua would seem a little surprised. "Style? Th'kind tha' keeps me alive, an' m'enemies on the ground," he chuckles. "Learned from the streets an' fightin' pits o' Fithurun." Indicating Zanven's fists, Tsakua adds, "Ye're pretty savvy wi'yer fists yerself. We'll have t'spar so ye c'n teach me some o'those tricks."
Zanven gives a quiet big grin at the suggested sparring.
"An oppurunity to test my strength against A half-orc warrior? Who could resist that. The last time I had the chance was... Well, I used to spar with one of your fellow half-orcs, quite strong he was. Though I fear the worst for him now." The grin disappears as he speaks of one of his last sparring partners.
"And don't worry, I wasn't expecting free food. Though, maybe I've earned a small dinner tonight? Also, I only need two hours of rest, give me that and I'll keep watch the rest of the night."
"Aye, I think ye've earned that much," Tsakua says. "An we'll see about sparrin' t'morrow, after we've dealt with our friend here," he says, indicating Ilya.
"I'm sorry t'hear about yer friend," he continues. "Ye weren't from Fithurun, were ye?" Tsakua asks. "Orcs 'n half-orcs alike weren't treated well, but ye were lucky t'live long if ye were found t'be a halfer."
Toyer quietly walks up behind Ilya as he is saying, "I do not wish to break protocol." Toyer isn't intentionally sneaking, but he's still very quiet.
He lifts up Ilya's coat peering underneath it. He giggles for a moment, drops the coat, then smiles up at the man before heading back among the campgrounds to try to scrounge up some food.
As the new human introduces himself and Tsakua bonds with the recently-introduced Zanven over a shared love of thumping things to death with their bodyparts--something that Pazeek sort of understands, with the way he uses his claws and beak--the tengu lets the words wash over him as background noise while he concentrates on making sure that his assorted allies get their various injuries seen to in a timely fashion. Breewyn wandering about, using her magic periodically, makes his job a lot easier, and Pazeek takes a moment to chirp his thanks as one of her spells washes over him as well.
He reminds himself to tease her a bit more, since she responds so well to it. And she certainly seems as if she could use the distraction, he muses idly as he sews a long cut together. Even in his short time in the camp, he's noticed what appears to be her usual expression, and it bothers Pazeek that this is so. As he works through the evening, he keeps an ear on the various conversations around him, devoting just enough attention to them to ensure that nothing is reaching the level of violence.
The only time he isn't beak deep--metaphorically speaking, of course--in someone's wounds is when he takes a short break for something to eat, and Pazeek gratefully takes the opportunity to stretch and work the kinks out of his body. Thankfully, it appears as though he's just about done, and fortunately so, as his little kit is very nearly expended from the night's efforts. He can pratically hear his little nest in the tree across from the manor calling to him, and Pazeek takes a moment to utter a prayer of thanks that neither the oversized bone heap nor Octavian's enthusiastic spell use caused it any damage.
Octavian ignored the human for a few minutes as he went from person to person and ascertained their condition and complimented the defenders of the camp for their skill in battle. Only once everyone was settled in one fashion or another would the illidari turn to face the human wizard.
He slowly pushed himself through the members of the camp to stand 10 feet in front of the human mage. "I am Octavian Lucarin of the recently destroyed slave camp to the southwest. We've killed over 30 humans who have claimed to be our masters and freed ourselves with our own power. Speak quickly before you follow in their path. We have very little reason to trust most humans."
Being depleted of all his healing magic but fully recovered, Thomen takes a small while to review the events of today here at the camp.
-Poor Luca... he was a kind dwarf. I wasn't good enough to save him. Dammit! The only 'good' thing about it is that he fell fighting like a dwarf.
Thomen remembers that he was talking to Octavian about fighting. He would retake the conversation, but Octavian seems busy attending everyone, collecting data and acting like a leader.
-And he might be a good one.
Still thinking about his last ring, Thomen notices that Tsakua and a new human are getting along well. Thomen discreetly checks at this new guy and seems satisfied with the result.
-Well, it is good that he found someone with things in common. We all need friends, here.
The thought about friends reminds him of the recent losses that Pazeek and Iraldia have had to endure. This finally makes him take a decision. He goes to where Pazeek is having a small snack.
-Hello... Pazeek? My... my name is Thomen. I would... ehhh... How to say... I'm... I'm sorry about your... friend, the other day. Mmmhhh... here, take this.- He offers him the ring. -If you wear it, I'll be able to protect you, albeit quite minimally, if there's another battle. Not that I'm a good protector, you see... how it fared when trying to protect Gommie... but... well, I guess it's more than nothing... I mean...
As always, words are hard for Thomen to take out of his mouth. He stops talking, and hopes Pazeek is not feeling bad at him for making him remember the matter. He gives him the ring and leaves him to his things.
Blinking in surprise, Pazeek accepts the ring from the dwarf, a confused expression on his face as he tries to sort out the fellow's explanation as to its purpose. Unfortunately, Thomen's apparent difficulty in speaking leaves Pazeek no wiser in that regard than he would have been had Thomen stayed silent. Nonetheless, he can tell that the gift is earnestly meant, and means quite a bit to the dwarf, so Pazeek simply nods his thanks and slips it over a claw. Though he would never admit it, of course, he does have a deeply buried and tightly controlled passion for shiny things, and the ring scratches that itch quite nicely, especially after he turned over the gem amd coinage looted from those skeletons earlier.
Sighing from exhaustion, Pazeek finishes his meal, gives the kobold responsible for it a gentle nibble of appreciation with his beak--he's a lot more tired than he realizes, else he would never engage in such familiar behavior with a complete stranger--then totters wearily off toward the tree in which his nest is located. Even as tired as he is, the climb up the trunk proves no obstacle to Pazeek, and he quickly divests himself of armor, weapons, and other equipment before sliding into his waiting hammock with a tired grunt.
Upon waking, Pazeek spend some time getting himself cleaned and trim--armor is pure torture for properly maintaining healthy, attractive feathers--then wanders a short distance away from the camp in search of a quiet place to spend an hour getting himself in tune with the source of his magic. Finding a rather pleasant spot, he takes a seat, clears his mind of the usual clutter that occupies it every day, and opens his senses to the world around him--the sun warming his feathers even as a breeze tickles through them, animals slowly and cautiously resuming their activities after the disturbance of his arrival, curious insects exploring him (and getting eaten by him, in the case of that overly aggressive dragonfly), the sheer feeling of life nearly bursting from the copious vegetation. All of these things his calmed mind notes in passing, never focusing for more than a moment on any one of them. Gradually, Pazeek feels a familiar sensation, one he has never been able to find words for, but that he absolutely knows is the source of his magic approving of his devotion and granting its blessing for yet another day.
After waking and getting himself cleaned up, with his feathers nicely preened--never know when some potential partner will need to be impressed with a bit of good looks, after all--Pazeek climbs as far up into his nest's tree as the branches will allow and then, with a joyous warble, jumps out of it. Before he's half of the distance to the ground, and the shocked camp residents upon it, however, the wind catches in his feathers as the tengu angles his limbs and body just the right way, and his fall turns into a smooth glide that takes him from tree to the roof of the manor nearby. Landing, he sprints across the roof and leaps into the air upon reaching the edge, gliding once more to yet another tree. Pazeek spends roughly an hour in this fashion, never once touching the ground, reveling in the feeling of air as he maneuevers through it in shorts bursts of motion. As he glides, the tengu begins to feel a familiar sensation, one he has never been able to find words for, but that he absolutely knows is the source of his magic approving of his devotion and granting its blessing for yet another day.
As this feeling begins to fade, Pazeek fixes his thoughts on the challenges he is most likely to face over the coming day, and soon enough he finds that he knows just the right magic to aid in overcoming them. With a happy chirp, he returns to his nest to don his armor and equipment, ready--hopefully--for whatever the day will bring.
Breewyn was quitelling a mess after helping with all of the medical needs of the camp. Between casting spells and physically assisting in cleaning and treating injuries, she was very sweat and worn out. She was extremely appreciative of the rather forward raven fellow and his efforts towards asssiting in the care of the survivors.
Once finished she went to find a wash basin to clean herself with before finding a patch of soft grass to rest upon. She laid down and stared at the sky, trying to imagine the patterns of the stars that form the constellations.
Octavian had accepted Thomen's ring with a nod while the human mage answered and slipped it on his right hand. "If you care so much about what is sensible then you will understand if I don't answer that question. It's only sensible to keep our own counsel, you understand." Octavian replied cooly while leaning on his own dark staff. "So what spurred you to travel deep into the wilds, alone, and seek...something in these ruins? There are no roads nearby and only a fool would seek to explore these ruins alone. Are you such a fool? Or do you-" the wizard cut off suddenly and took a deep breath, derailing the aggressive line of questioning he was beginning.
"Forgive me. Today has been a very trying time for us with the loss of several companions after ambushes from a necromancer. Just answer me this; The human ruler seeks to exterminate and/or enslave every non human race in the lands. Do you, in your own opinion, believe that humanity as a race is weaker or stronger then any of the others?"
Breewyn was stirred out of her mental state, by Thomen's approach to gift her with a ring. She looks at the silver ring with a mixture of curiosity and confusion, then she looks up to him. "Um thanks? I mean I like you and all, but I barely know you... It's all so sudden." She blinks innocently, still not fully understanding the implications of the ring he was offering to her.
"Y've th' power, y'say?" Tsakua asks, stepping forward to Ilya. "An' what o' them that're still here? Not us, mind you, but them as are enslaved, or hunted by these armies? Have y'power t'take them too?" Tsakua's questions come of brusque, due more to the nature of the half-orc than any actual attempt at rudeness. In fact, to those that know him well, some might think Tsakua is just being ornery and contrary for the sake of it.
"If we've t'leave, it'll make sense, as we're small in number and strangers 'ere," he adds. Looking to Octavian, he adds "We do need th'supplies, but we've promises t'keep an find out 'bout round 'ere as well."
"Could be dozens. Could be hundreds. We've towns an' slave camps 'round fer miles, an' there's folks need savin' an' them as needs learnin' from the sword an' fire," Tsakua says. "I'll speak fer m'self on this part, but if you've a way to get folks away from here, I'd rather we send them as can't fight as well or care fer themselves as we can."
"I ain't got an assistant fer yuh t'secure," Tsakua says, thoughtfully, "but if y'give me time t'think on it, we might have some folks that could use yer help, come the time fer it. An' if ye're willin' t'help them, I guess that's good'nuf fer me t'help y'find yer way through these ruins."
Once the conversation ends, Tsakua continues moving about, helping move pieces of the giant skeleton away from the entrance to the camp and shore up defenses.
After eating dinner Toyer meanders around the camp briefly seeing everyone tending to their business and chatting. The man with the staff doesn't seem to be troublesome, so he finds a nice cozy spot among some brush to sleep for the night.
The morning was young, the sun was barely into the sky as movement began, the morally wounded camp began trying to repair any damage to the surrounding building, hoping to salvage something. Everyone was on edge and it was apparent that there current position was weak. Ishak came to the fire pit, his face seemed cold as he looked into the flames for a moment before looking around at those who have woken.
"We need better camp. This place not good." he gestured a taloned hand towards the wall that was destroyed by the skeletons failure of the spell. They were now even more open and were running out of building supplies. "No choke point. Ground soft. Find harder, stone. Maybe old keep?" he glanced to the other kobolds for a moment and then all nodded, "We found something. Found old tower, climbed up it and could see large building towards the north-east. In corruption land." He made a face and frowned for a moment, "But also saw clump of buildings and wall to the north-west. Trees thick there. Also found tunnel into side of mountain." He looked at the group, "What we do? Not safe here."
Those who wakened from the camp were all gathering at the fire now. Many tired faces looking towards the group for answers, for validation. The death of Luca and Gommie reminded them of their mortality and the fact Iraldia was no where to be seen kept everyone on edge.
-If... our plan... ummm... is to stay, then we could do something with these buildings. I... I would suggest we... errrr... we pick the one which has building supplies closer.
Breewyn quietly walked over to where others were gathering. She rubbed sleep from her eyes. She didn't know when she fell asleep, bur she did have a restful sleep which comforted her and brightened her mood considerably. "Was that where we found you when we came looking?" She asked, already thinking about possibilities for if he said yes.
The gathering group of people start to make enough noise to wake Toyer. He yawns loudly, gets up, and starts wandering around the camp. When he hears the part about the large building in the corrupted area, he turns to look at the speaker and says, "I don't like that place. They live there," turning his head to look at the remnants of undead things strewn about the camp. Then, he quickly loses interest again and starts poking about again.
Having little else to contribute, for the time being, Pazeek finishes his meal and leaves the fire for the camp's small work area. He had intended to try his claw at improving his weapons, putting to use some of the strange knowledge filling his head over the last couple of days. His first efforts were interrupted by yesterday's events, so he intends to make another go at it today. Laying out his weapons once again, he looks them over thoughtfully, then frowns and looks at the armormhe's wearing. With a click of his beak, Pazeek quickly removes the armor and lays it alongside the waiting weapons, then fetches one of the breastplates recovered from the destroyed skeletons and places it next to his own armor. After a few long moments of contemplation, he leaves the work bench in search of Octavian.
After locating the caster in question, Pazeek approaches and broaches his request. "I've decided to do a bit of work on my gear, and if you've the time to spare, I'd greatly appreciate your aid in my efforts."
the following morning Zanven speaks to the leaders of the camp after spending an hour at dawn break in meditation.
Are you folk fighting the new empire? or do you seek to flee from it for now? Either way, I may be able to help.
"Was that where we found you when we came looking?"
Thomen turns his head to Breewyn.
-You... you mean me? No, I was... in the slave caravan, you know.
"Aye, but it's an' old tower," Tsakua comments. "Might be good as a jumpin' off point, or a post, but we'll need t'check it first afore we go makin' it a more permanent residence."
Thinking to himself for a little while, Tskaua adds "What about that armory we cleared? Place had big open space, sturdy walls, and doors that'd hold of that tree thingy." Looking towards those who had survived the encounter, he asks, "That'd probably make a good, safe place fer us t'stay, 'specially 'gainst these beasties."
"A good building around us will be needed. They will have bows."
Toyer winds up standing next Jietin having gotten some food among his poking about, and he nods at what Jeitin said while munching away.
-We can... eh...- Thomen looks around himself. -We can try a different approach, instead of just thinking about defence. We might think about offence.
He does a small pause to put his words together.
-When we decide which place do we want to use as a base... I could help in making some active defences. You know... ballistae, catapults... it all depends on the materials at hand, of course... but you know...
He ends up the phrase there, as if everyone present knew.
Breewyn shook her head at Thomen's inquiry. "No, I meant Ishak. I was referring to the second group that had to go find them." She made a little face, before relaxing back to her relatively neutral countenance that still had a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
-Oh. Sorry.
Ishak shakes his head at Bree's inquiry, "No, Tower is off more, it's bit old, best view we found though."