"How can I trust you?"
I can heal the injured... - Leoven say nervously.
Buoyed by his comrades speech Vhillish also pipes up;
"Seems you bounders are in a pickle whot!? We've both healing and the savvy to parley coupled with plenty enough iron and skill behind it to send you and yours to your graves! So what's it to be eh? Chin wag or body bag whot-whot!"
:
Janna had moved to the edge of the roof so she can see into the courtyard below. She was keeping tabs on the orcs or any other activities down there.
She turns to give a quick look when her name was mentioned but remains silent.
"Cullen, what do you know of the cultists and your friends. We seek a mage called Vortigern with a nasty imp."
Jerrid then provides a description of the wizard.
Damien's jaw tightens as he considers going down. He looks at Cullen, "Let's just hope you're right about her. When did these cultists arrive? Couldn't drive them off before they got inside the walls? Or did you let them in willingly?"
Sam gives Damien and pointed look: "Don't F*&(& this up. You should probably keep quiet during the parlay."
He yells out: "And I am coming down to meet you halfway."
Sam begins the trek down.
Damien raises an incredulous eyebrow at the halfling, "I'll do my best..."
He turns to Janna, gesturing after Sam, "After you. Apparently I'm keeping my trap shut. That means it's your job to rein in our "ambassador"."
He turns his head to regard the others, "Keep on your toes. If we need you, we'll need you fast.", he spares a nod to Vhillish before following Janna downstairs.
Kevezyat listened to the shouted negotiations with a bemused expression, which becomes pained at Samduc's declaration of devotion to Freya. She casts her eyes skyward as the small rogue seems to take charge of the negotiations, preceeding Damien and Janna down the stairs.
She follows the group down the spiral stairs halfway, then waits for a signal the negotiations have faltered.
At the mention of Ogres Vhillish's face whitens and his moustaches do a nervous jig.
He shoots a knowing look at Damien;
"Ogre(s) sah. Plural. Them biggun's have crossed our path before Lieutenant... No need to remember the Red Bluff Massacre whot... Bad bloody business for the 33rd..."
The diminutive veteran looks somewhat forlorn for a moment;
"Ahem! No good comes of engaging "Gorgers" without ballista and heavy magic sah! No good!"
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Damien nods to Cullen, a little disdainful of the man's sniveling but seemingly satisfied with his answers, "Aye...Orcus. Your neighbors are thrice-cursed undead worshipers."
The blood drains from the veteran's face at Vhillish's comment, regret filling his eyes. His words come softly, "No good indeed deputy..."
Shaking his head slightly, Damien regains focus and heads down the stairs.
Janna (assuming she saw nothing while watching the courtyard) heads down with Damien.
Jerrid shadows the drow down the few steps to listen for the signs of danger.
Does that make four ambushes or massacres or the like that the thirty third took part in. So much bad luck its possible these two are the only ones left alive. Ogre, ogre, I'd like to see how long it lasts against us. Not very I'd bet.
He wears a crooked smile and licks his lips suddenly like a reptile.
Sam holds out elbow as an escort at a fancy ball, and grabs Firean's hand to place on it.
"Someone has to. Come with me, I am your escort."
He says with a conspiratorial whisper:
"We need to work together. And, the military types I am with I think are jealous of your operation. They are little bitter about their transition to civilian life, so you may need to cut them some slack. I told them to be quiet, but they just complain and complain."
Leoven go witht the rest trying to stay quiet, this time with the shame and guilt of the group having killing "innocent" people, he know they were bandits but they were not Demon cultist.
Damien stops just short of the landing, as Sam, Firean and Janna occupy much of the available space at this point. He roles his eyes at the bandit leader's anarchistic sentiments but otherwise holds his tongue, simply looking at Janna expectantly.
"I wonder where we stand with Vhillish and the laws against bandits round UnFairhill, Kevezyat?" murmurs the rogue gently to one side.
Sam leads the lady to Janna.
"This is Janna my lady. She probably regrets circumstances of initial meeting--we thought you evil agents or their mercenaries."
Vhillish pretends to ignore the comment from the deep gnome as his ears pick up the conversation between Sam and the bandit leader;
The serjeant-depute grumbles to his commanding officer;
"Sedition sah! I'll not broach such talk Lieutenant sah! I am a Deputy of the law of good Fairhill... and don't give me that "enemy of mine enemy is mine friend" line sah! It didn't work in the Battle of Undertomb, nor will it work here by jingo!"
The diminutive veteran is clearly in a right tizzy, as his moustaches twitch involuntary as his face reddens.
"Maybe not, but I highly doubt any of these here have been eating children sergeant.", Damien replies dryly at the mention of Undertomb.
He pulls his attention from Firean to meet the diminutive deputy's eye with a hard look, "Whatever your duty demands deputy, now is not the time."
Jerrid stares at the gnome's rigid back and shakes his head.
Janna was awaiting to meet the leader of the tower. she turns to meet her what Sam introduces her.
there is a slight breeze twirling about Janna as she stands there.
It is a pleasure to meet someone that also hails from Reme. I am Janna. her voice echos slightly in the breeze the surrounds her.
Kevezyat smiles at Jerrid's jest, "Our deputy knows his duty Jerrid, both to his office and to us."
Her mention of duty brings Kevezyat's mind back to her life in the lightless domain of the Drow. Glancing at the dark figure beside her, her thoughts turn to the unspeakable suffering her people perpertrated against Jerrid's. Sighing at the memory of evils and wrongs unforgiven, she gently squeezes the deep gnome's shoulder, murmuring "I am glad you're back with us, Jerrid."
She then turns her attention back to the negotiations....
Eh,uhm, ahem, where are the cultist now?
We have to destroy the cultists- Leoven say to his group, but then realizes everyone else is listening and he prefer to say no more words.
Damien gives Firean a hard look, "Aye, you lot would have been well served by actually posting a bloody lookout.", He turns back up the stairs, "Vhillish, send the pretty boy down. His mistress beckons..."
Still smarting, the ruddy faced Vhillish shouts back;
Sending him down sah! Unless you wish me to drop him to the courtyard like a sack of spuds sah! All the same to me as bandits sah!"
The veteran prods the captive bandit with his scabbarded rapier, herding him down the stairs toward where the parley is taking place;
"Jesting of course! Here's the blighter!"
Sam gives Firean an open-armed shrug as if to say 'see what I have to deal with'.
"Can't even follow orders at times. We have our own problems you see. Your outfit seems to have more esprit de corps."
Janna stands there getting slightly impatient but hides it.
well you wanted to meet with me, So, what is it you wish to discuss? addressing Firean
Sam reminds Janna with a whisper, that they asked for the parlay, not Firean.
oh yeah, right, silly me Janna whispers back. looking a little embarrassed.
Well anyway, As was mentioned before we believed that you were a part of the Orcus cult. but as we can now see, you are not. I wish to broker an allegiance between us. to remove these orc cultist from this place.
Damien rubs idly at one of the boils on his cheek left by the gas, reluctantly nodding to Janna in favor of the plan, "Aye, we'll want to be fresh if we're tackling ogres."
Jerrid takes a bowl and blows it cool. Then he scoops the food away in the corner of the room, keeping one eye and ear on the conversation with Janna.
"Thank you," he tells the fat cook with a real smile. "You must have alot to feed. Many men with hungry bellies for your good food."
Damien takes a bowl of stew from the half-orc woman but it remains untouched by the half-elf. He gives the cook a considering look as she continues serving, "You're new here. Tell me, where does an outfit such as Lady Firean's find themselves a decent cook?"
Kevezyat descends behind the others, careful to enter slowly, knowing that her drow nature might cause the bandits to become excitable...and with the addition of her holy nature, she thought it prudent to make a more caution entrance.
She leans against the wall by the stairs, inclining her head courteously when offered a bowl of stew.
Sam was a little suspicious at first--taking food from others was always a dicey proposition. But he was a hobbit, and good food was hard to pass up. And the leaders were eating first.
Sam is quiet until midway through his third bowl of stew, and then he pauses with a satisfied smile and puts his hand in between his belt to test the slack in his midsection. He smiles at Firean and her cook.
"Yes, ma'am, you have first class provender here. The ability to keep hot, delicious food for the troops is quite a boon to any group. The cooks in the temple I grew up in would love to have the recipe here. Though I think potatoes and beans and field greens were all the ingredients they had to work with."
Sam pauses himself and wipes away a tear thinking about his first meals in the temple of Freya that saved him from near starvation. He turns to Firean and makes a candid statement, remembering his time at the temple.
"If you could wipe the slate clean, and start all over, what do you think you and your band would do? I, for one, am living proof of the statement that everyone gets a second chance."
Sam waves in the general direction of the cultists. "If agents of good, well known by the good priestess of Fairhill, said that you purged the world of a danger to innocents and children, I would think that may be enough to get a blanket amnesty. Possibly even a permanent paying job. The sheep of Fairhill and other surrounding towns need sheepdogs to protect themselves from wolves."
Janna accepts a single bowl, she savors every bit of it. despite having been years since a life of not knowing when your next meal would come, she still takes the time to enjoy each meal as though it was her last.
interesting story, But, if you don't mind, I have heard stories of one called Eralion the staff maker. He is said to have once resided in these parts. now you wouldn't happen to know of anything like that?
Janna remains on target, looking to see what they know, also looking for clues as to the whereabouts of Vortigern.
Yes, they are in Eralion Keep, tha twas Leoven's mission, but now the Young cleric couldn't think in other thing but in the Orcus cultists
Why the orcs are not trying to conquer the rest of the Keep? - He say while seeing the half depleted bowl in from of him.
Damien stares keeps his gaze fixed on the orc woman, sparing Firean only the briefest of glances when she answers for the half-orc, his questions directed at cook herself, "And I suppose you've also got a bleeding heart where the orcish cultists outside are concerned?"