"And who is this and where is Malgrim?" they inquire as the Companions enter.
"Marilyn, you're looking better than before. Let's see if we can upgrade that to a 'well', shall we? We need to get some stone. It will cost between four and five thousand gold to secure. If only you were better, I'm sure you could have made a better deal for us. Stay as healthy as you can, and know that we're trying as hard as we can to get that Fountain restored."
The priestess of Calistra looks at him, "Why thank you for taking the time to visit me personally. I do hope that my condition continues to improve, it seems that I am needed in the field to garner some more income. I will do my best to alleviate the costs.
"I wouldn't fret too much over the cost, House Mindurian is as unmovable as the stone they quarry at times." Mistress Lavni's face clouds in contemplation.
You should be aware, though, that too many people know about this Fountain. There will be requests to use it, and demands. It will be a trickle at first as those in the know try to get in ahead of others, but then it will become a wave. This thing cannot stay quiet, it seems. You need to be prepared. Lanvi knows much of what to expect and she can help you. Beware of her advice, though, she may appreciate what we have done but do not think for a moment that she is any less a shrewd business woman. You need to be prepared for half of Magnimar to want to use the Fountain of Bethesda to heal one of their friends or relatives.
"That said, we can potentially use this to our advantage We will likely need more and more help to simply get this done. Granting one of the initial uses of the Fountain to those who provide us with invaluable aid could be a way to secure said aid where money won't work - or where we do not have sufficient monies to pay for it... much as you did for Keoki and Lanvi after she negotiated with you.".
"I understand completely. It is my goal, and should be all our goals, to keep the fountain free form all political machinations. Your help, and Mistress Lanvi's help, has been incalculable. But as the legend of the fountain grows, so will ambitious individuals whose sole purpose is to use the fountain to their advantage.
"That is why I have sent formal letters to other temples of Sarenrae to come to Magnimar, and help us establish more churches to help us administrate this gift of the Dawnflower."
At this revelation, Mistress Lanvi eyes go wide.
"Fear not, our original agreement is secure, and the Temple will honor it as it honors all agreements that it makes. One must to humble enough to recognize when the task to too great for one to handle, and flexible enough to adapt to the changing environs. Lesson we could all learn from." she preaches to no one in particular.
"Now, enough doddering on aging women, you have a journey looming in front of you. Take the blessing of Sarenrae with you, and some of this lovely root that Sister Maiele preserved. The root itself is spicey, with a slight burn of the tongue. But she uses some sweet syrup to jar it in, that makes the exterior crunchy and sweet. I am truly blessed with some inventive clergy here." she trails off as the Companions make ready.
Arimar chews on the spicy root. "Give Sister Maiele my thanks. I pray we return with all the stone we need. Blessings of the Dawnflower be upon thee."
With that, Arimar returns to his companions and their preparations to leave.
The Companions all arrive in the basement offices in the Museum of Ages. The page raps gently at the door and all can hear Doctor Archisa Aparn disabling his magical locks. Opening the door, the Companions push in to see his office arrayed almost exactly the same as before. Books are strew about, there is no where to sit, and the room still has that old paper smell.
Doctor Archisa Aparn greets everyone warmly until he gets to Kaddren. "Ah, and who might you be?"
Nodding at Kaddren's tale, Doctor Archisa Aparn grins at the youth. "Will be great to have a student of the arcane arts with us. I look forward to hearing your thoughts about using components to enhance our magics."
Doctor Archisa Aparn slings a bag over his shoulder, places a wide brimmed hat upon his head, and grabs a walking stick that was standing perfectly perpendicular to the floor
with no support in sight.
"Just so you are all aware, though Thassilonian is my area of expertise, I have never personally been to Hollow Mountain or its environs. There is a risk, slight though it is, but I feel that adventures of your caliber are up to any challenges. Come closer if you will."
The Companions scoot forward around the good Doctor moments before he begins to chant in the arcane language.
Instantly the Companions arrive at a narrow mountain pass. Two giants stand up and turn towards them.
"What them?"
"Dunno. Kill 'em."
"Yeah."
Great orators, not so much, but huge and hulking they advance towards the party.
The first giant lumbers towards Arimar, swinging his club.
but thankfully misses wildly.
The second giant mimics his compatriot and hits out at Benaiah.
Slamming into the man, Benaiah can hear a crunch as the giant's club smashes into him.
In the midst of the melee, the Companions are able to take a good look around them. They cold, dry air blows across their faces and if they weren't in battle, they know they would prefer to be wrapped in their furs by a fire.
Behind the hill giant duo is the remains of the their makeshift campsite. True to giants everywhere, it is slovenly arranged with various carcassas in stages of decomposition. A dirty tent, more ripped and tattered than whole, flaps in the brisk wind.
Behind the hill giants, the rocky path ascends higher into the mountains, while the narrow 25 foot pass descends around a bend and out from sight about 150 feet behind them. This particular mountain ascends quite high before a saddleback dips before connecting to the next peak in the Rivenrake range.
They can hear Doctor Archisa Aparn behind them exclaim, "Oh dear, that is not good. We must be off a bit. Do you need some assistance?"
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"Oh poop..." Benaiah's face falls for half a moment as he is still gathering his wits from the unnatural travel. He can barely get his bearings before the massive club comes swinging in, crunching his shoulder badly. The blood in his veins begins to boil, and the tiny vial of powder hanging from his neck practically sings to him.
"Make me a damn giant so I can look this wretch in the eye when I pull his heart out of his chest!" Benaiah screams, not taking his eyes off of the brute that just accosted him. Grabbing the vial pendant, he brings it up to his nose and takes a quick sniff, feeling the rush immediately, to the delight of the voice that takes up residence in the back of his mind.
With all of his meager willpower, Benaiah holds for a moment until he hears the sweet sounds of Gwen's violin, then allows himself to fall completely into the rush, swinging his rarely used scythe at the hill giant.
for
Arimar decides that these ambushers must be evil, and so prays that Sarenrae guide his blade against such vile things, steps forwards a little and lashes out with all his might.
"Foul beast, desist, or be destroyed," the paladin demands.
"Not sure if we need assistance or not," Arimar grunts after slashing at 'his' giant, "Perhaps next time if you don't transport us into an ambush, that would help the most." He turns briefly to favor Aparn with a wink to let him know he doesn't blame him for the mishap.
As the Teleportation spell wears off, Kaddren surveys his inhospitable surroundings and even more inhospitable welcoming committee before scrambling back into a defensive position hopefully out of the way of impending blows. Taking stock of the situation he mutters with a wry grin, "I can see already that traveling with you all is not without its benefits. Making new friends, exploring luxurious locales..."
The arcanist dips his hand into one of his pouches, sheltering the pinch of fine particles against the wind under his cloak before tracing a sigil in the air and muttering a familiar incantation, with a brief improvisation. Glitterdust, a common spell, although if the emphasis is placed on the -dust- over the -glitter-... He tugs at the strands of arcane energy, strengthening the effect of his spell as he releases it.
Giving better than they got, the Companions step forward and slash out with scythe and falchion. Both giants howl out in pain as blood waters the pebbly ground.
"Yes Arimar, next time I shall endeavour to avoid this type of trouble. Most unpleasant. Keep up the good work!" comes Doctor Archisa Aparn's voice from behind.
As the ground mica slips through Kaddren's fingers, a shimmering shower of glitters rains down upon the two giants.
"What this?" the first giant queries as he looks directly into the falling dust.
"Dunno. Let's kill it." swiping their great clubs through the glitter.
As the dust settles, both giants quickly loos their sight.
"Can see?"
"Nope."'
"Let' kill it."
Hoping their prey haven't moved, the first giant steps back to clear room for his mighty swing.
Again, working in concert, the second giant adjusts before hitting out at Benaiah.
Through all the wild swings, only one club is able to land on Benaiah's shoulder, crunching bone and metal alike.
[ooc]Current Conditions: Benaiah -46 hp; Giant A -25hp; Giant B -21 hp
"Kaddren, I'm not sure if you're being genuine or sarcastic," Arimar notes, "But either way, I like your style. Thanks for blinding these lumbering hulks!"
Seeing the creatures flail about, Arimar decides to take the opportunity to flank one with Benaiah and over to his friend's aid.
The halfling looks up to see the towering forms of the brutish creatures approaching and even taking swings at her companions before there was any sign of hostility. Her eyes widen in fear as she mutters, "Hill people..." For a moment she remains too stunned by such a rapid turn of events, but eventually regains her wits enough to recognize the vile, aggressive creatures for what the are. "I mean, hill giants..."
Quickly pulling the violin from her back, the halfling draws the bow across the strings in an arcing, exaggerated motion. Launching from the instrument the air is filled with a shrieking, high-pitched whine that is flung directly at the approaching giants. As racing bow changes its speed and angle of draw, Gwendolyn turns the instrument to face her companions just as the melody is replaced with notes brimming of latent courage and hope.
As the assault of the hill giants continues, and the mighty rain of their clubs sound off like thunderclaps that shake the very ground at her feet, the tiny halfling continues to release her melody from the violin clasped desperately in hand. The tempo of the song quickens, calling to mind the plight at hand, but building to a tremulous, though hopeful crescendo. With each note that fills the air, she steps closer to the paladin as the music itself all but envelopes him.
Beneath the rising melody she mutters powerful and eldritch words, calling a spell into existence from the depth of her being. When she reaches the paladin, she pauses her playing, though the song still hangs in the air and even seems as though it somehow continues on without her through some trick of reverberation and echo, and Gwendolyn stretches out one hand to touch Arimar on the back.
Kaddren admires his glittery handy-work, though he winces when he witnesses the bone crunching blow caused by the giant's flailing club. Responding to Arimar he calls out sarcastically, "Sarcasm? Of course not..." He takes a brief tactical look around him before adding "I'll keep both coming if you keep between me..." he notices Arimar suddenly move in an uncomfortably 'not blocking him' direction "... And them... Well, Benaiah appears to have the spirit..."
Adding his own part, he makes a motion pantomiming pulling a rug out from under someone and whispers a word of magic, casting Grease.
Arimar and Benaiah continue to strike out at the hill giants, shifting their tactical positions while the giants are blinded, both landing solid hits. Gwen imbues Arimar with special arcane energy to defeat these terrible foes.
targeting the ground under both if possible, Targeting the weapon of the least damaged one otherwise.
The giant's greatclub slips from his fingers and bounces to the ground.
"What that?"
"Club fall."
"Why fall?"
"Dunno."
"You still want kill?"
"Yup."
"Let' kill it."
"You see yet?" the first giant queries as he rubs his eyes with one ham sized fist.
"Nope. Let's kill it."
Hoping their prey haven't moved much, the first giant takes a moment to determine if his prey has shifted much at all. He balls up ham sized fists, adjusts his footing, and punches out at Benaiah, while the other swings his greatclub through the magically created darkness.
Again, working in concert, the second giant strikes out at Benaiah, taking some of the power off of his swing to be more accurate. The blow lands and Benaiah crumples to the ground.
"Oh my! Someone should do something." The good doctor exclaims.
[ooc]Current Conditions: Benaiah -71hp [b]-6 ; Giant A -25hp; Giant B -74 hp[/b]
Arimar uses every ounce of self control he has to not shout out about Benaiah going down. If the giants were swinging where he was standing they would be unlikely to attack him at his spot on the ground.
The paladin digs deep and strikes twice in rapid succession.
"Ha!" Arimar cries out in a mocking tone, "You attacked the weakest of us, time to see if you can defeat me!" I'm almost glad Benaiah wasn't conscious to hear that one!
Seeing his long time companion fall in battle, Ariamr calls upon the grace of the Dawnflower to guide his falchion. Though he is solely focused on the foes in front of him, he can almost spy a hazy form of a beautiful woman behind the giant. She seems to reach through the giant and pull the falchion.
The first strike servers a main artery and a jet of blood sprays over the ledge. The giant collapses next to the fallen barb-a-chemist.
"What fell?"
Hearing no response, the giant grits his teeth as he surmises his friend has fallen.
His bitter tears are short lived as the holy warrior of Sarenrae slices into his hamstring, crippling his leg.
"Hurt. Not nice!"
Get up you fumbling idiot! I cannot take over your mind if you are dead!
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Take over? SHUT UP AND GET OUT OF MY HEAD! I DON'T NEED YOU ANYMORE! Benaiah's mind screams at itself as another blow glances off of his skull but connects solidly with his shoulder.
"Unggff" he grunts, dropping to a knee. His vision blurrs for a moment and the ground feels to almost spin beneath his feet. When he looks back up, he sees a red haze covering about half of his vision, though the chemicals coursing through his veins don't allow for the deductive reasoning to figure out why.
"Maybe I should... Sit down for a minute." he mumbles to himself, not sure who can hear him, or even where he is.
The large man reaches for his box and the security blanket it offers his mind. He clutches it close to his chest, thumbing the emergency latch on the bottom and holding it close to his face. His breathing comes in shaky sputters as his mind tries to deal with the pain by blocking out some of it's functionality. He sniffs through his nose and the pinkish colored powder within is caught in the airstream and brought up to the sensitive skin of his nostrils and sinus cavities. The effect in instantaneous. The throbbing in his head dissapates slightly and the warm, flowing, wet sensation seems to shift to a chilled, sticky one.
"I'll be over here, taking a nap I think." as the drugs that give him the temporary lift leave him, bringing him into the inevitable crash.
The hulking brute of a man takes a few shaky steps away from the fallen giant. The idea of sleep seems so sweet, he decides to take advantage of the opportunity. He doesn't even feel the ground break his fall.
The weakest of us, the halfling thinks to herself as confusion sets in at hearing Arimar's words. In the midst of battling for their lives and Benaiah on the verge of collapse, the usually socially adept bard cannot grasp the paladin's joke and raises the violin once more to her chin to continue its racing song. "But Benaiah isn't we--" her words trail off before she can complete her thought, fully focusing her attention on the rhythmic push and pull of the bow across the strings. As the melody races faster and faster, Gwendolyn steps closer to the wounded form of her friend.
Ahead she can see him falter, then fall. She almost stops playing as panick takes hold. "Benaiah!" she calls, fear firmly gripping her heart. "Hold on, just a moment longer. I'm coming!"
Arimar looks in amazement as Benaiah lurches to his feat, finds a place to drink a potion and then falls unconscious again. That man is crazed it seems... I wonder if it's the drugs that are making him behave like that. I really must talk to him about all that, and soon.
Kaddren takes another -good- step back as the somewhat erratic yet much more impressively armored Benaiah takes a hideously crunching blow, and sets himself down to sleep. "We need to have a chat after this about sleeping on the job..." Deciding that keeping Arimar upright was probably the only way any of them would walk away from this fight, he went with a tactic that seemed effective so far: another application of the Grease spell, this time targeting the remaining Giant's weapon.
Regardless of the result of his spell, he helpfully suggests, "Arimar, might I suggest that you duck if the giant swings at you?"
Benaiah disengages from the fight just as Arimar downs a giant and severely wounds the other.
Gwen administers some quick first aid to heal the large man, while Kaddren continues to harry the giant with his arcane prowess.
And he topples to the ground.
He places a meaty hand out, and pushes himself back to standing before punching out in anger at Arimar, still blinded.
The giants lands his first solid blow in Arimar in the fight.
[ooc]Current Conditions: Arimar -10hp, Benaiah -65hp -1 ; Giant A -74hp; Giant B dead[/b]
"I haven't been hit yet," Arimar notes to the sarcastic arcanist, "Really not sure if I like you or hate you yet, Kaddren..." he adds to no-one in particular.
As the giant seeks to right itself, Arimar slashes out, this time at head-height.
"Does that style of combat suit you better, Kaddren?" Arimar asks, wiping sweat and giant blood from his brow, "I learned my lesson a little while back against a dagger flinger regarding positioning - don't stand in the way of enemy fire if you don't have to. Unfortunately, it's a bit hard to move quietly in all this armor." I used to be able to sneak around... it somehow doesn't seem fitting anymore.
Arimar rushes over to where Benaiah is lying on the ground, battered but no longer bleeding thanks to Gwen. "Try not to block so many blows with your face," Arimar smiles gently, "And we have to have a long talk about your reckless behavior. They could have killed you then when the bloodlust left you. Had that last blow actually knocked you unconscious..." He lets the statement hang there while ministering to his fallen friend.
"Now, good doctor," Arimar stands when Benaiah is healthy once more, "Would you mind terribly figuring out exactly where we are and how to get where we want to be?"
While the doctor does that, Arimar sets to cleaning his weapon and armor. He pats the boulder next to him, "Come, Benaiah, let's talk..."
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"We need to have a chat after this about sleeping on the job..."
The sweet melody from Gwen's violin dance around Benaiah's ears and through his foggy mind like a carefree pixie. She flits around the islands of his memories in an erratic, yet purposeful dance. Blackness and fog permeate his brain as a lone, dim light shines against it, threatening to be overwhelmed. A slight crescendo as the notes climb higher in pitch, and the pixie circles up and around the memory to look down on it from above.
A young man sits on a bed next to an older woman. Not old in the sense of wearing down from age, but likely nearly twice in years as the boy next to her. Boy, perhaps, is a bit of a misnomer. As large as a man, but certainly still mired in his teenage years. His shoulders are tense, there are welts on his arms and back, and anger on his face, but she pretends not to notice. Instead, she sings, while her hands run gently through his hair and massage his shoulders.
The musical pixie floats down into the space of the memory amidst the fog, alighting on the shoulder of the enchantingly beautiful woman. Correspondingly, the music descends down a minor scale, hanging on a minor fifth for a somber moment.
The woman’s red hair cascades over a sheer nightgown that hangs from soft shoulders. Her hair seems to glow suddenly, but the boy doesn’t notice. His eyes are closed. No words come from her lips, though she continues to sing in the boy’s ear, only the sound of a delicate violin can be heard. The anger and pain painted on the boy’s face begins to melt away, slowly replaced by a contented smile.
The musical pixie, apparently satisfied with her work, does a little pirouette on the woman’s shoulder before flying up again. This time a major chord builds and grows, hanging in the air as she begins to circle the memory, a lonely bed in a lonely room with two souls taking solace in each other’s company. As the pixie flies away, the violin’s melody seems to end in a flourish, and the light of the memory pierces a little bit further into the darkness than it had only a moment ago.
The paladin, once again with Sarenrae's assistance, cuts down the remaining hill giant. With the assailants dead and bleeding out, Arimar and Doctor Archisa Aparn cross paths as they step over the wounded Benaiah. Arimar calls upon the blessings of his patroness to heal the man, while Doctor Archisa Aparn rushes to the hill giants.
Opening his haversack, he pulls out a folding tray, a portable writing desk, and a camp stool. Opening drawers and pulling the stopper to his ink, Doctor Archisa Aparn begins to write on his parchment. "Come here Kaddren. Do you think the smell is pungent or rancid by these hill giants?" The man continues to inspect the giants and write almost simultaneously.
After a few moments, Doctor Archisa Aparn pulls out a few implements and his abacus while the companions continue to heal Benaiah. Flicking beads, twisting dials, he begins to grin.
Doctor Archisa Aparn's places his quill down and approaches the group. "The good news is that we are not too far away. By my calculations we are on Rivenrake island, but The bad news is we overshot Northpass and are actually on the trail to the Alaznist Stair. We should turn back and head back down the mountain. When you are ready, of course."
Well that was poorly done, was it not? Lucky for you, I was here to keep us alive. And what are you doing remembering the slave wench? Get her out of your head before you start getting any ideas…
Shut your mouth you petulant brat! You are alive, you are what you are because of
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Benaiah grimaces from the pain in his shoulder, but moreso from the incessant vitriol spewing from the voice in his head. Just as the voice begins to light into him, he feels the firm press of a hand on his shoulder, and a wave of light flashes through his foggy mind.
f..r..t .. ..u p… … of w….ss … The voice is immediately muffled, as if speaking from underwater. The anxiety that usually comes with its sound washes away with the wave of light, soothing and pure.
WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO?! The voice shouts, a tinge of panick in it’s timbre, for possibly the first time ever that Benaiah can recall. KILL HIM IMME… … … …. …
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Another wave of light washes through his mind and body, radiant and soothing, instantly muffling the voice again as Benaiah feels the firm press of hands on his shoulder for a second time.
A third wave crashes blissfully across the darkened expanse of Benaiah’s mind, completely muting the awful voice.
The large man blinks his eyes a couple of times, squinting from the bright light as his pupils adjust. His right eyelid reacts a bit slower as it works out the stickiness of the blood that coats that side of his face, thankfully no longer flowing from the wound on his scalp. Picking his face up from the dirt, he takes a deep breath, and then another, but the voice does not return. Silenced for now at least.
Rolling back on his hindquarters, he sits crosslegged on the ground in silence as Arimar begins to tap him with the expensive healing wand. Benaiah feels the strength returning to his limbs as the aches and pains melt away. Somewhere in the back of his mind he can hear the voice of his songbird, and he smiles.
"Reckless... Yes." his voice cracks, and so he clears his throat. "About that... No, you go ahead first." he sits next to his longtime friend, trying not to be distracted by the thought of what just happened to the voice that has lived in his mind for so long.
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Arimar watches as his friend undergoes what appears to be something of an internal struggle. He weighs the benefits of bringing more of Sarenrae's blessings against the utility of being able to heal with his hands at a later date and decides that Benaiah is worth at least half of his daily blessings - and more, Dawnflower willing, if he doesn't need to use them any further before nightfall.
"I'm glad Sarenrae's healing light has brought a smile to your face," Arimar notes, putting a hand - an ordinary hand - on the newly healed Benaiah's shoulder again, "It has been too long since I've seen that.
"I wanted to talk about this new... delivery mechanism your using for your potions," he continues gravely, "You must realize that we've noticed that you aren't exactly drinking them anymore. You and I both have had our fair share of illicit substances from time to time, recreationally. However, we were ever skirting around the edges of addiction. I fear, my friend, that you have stopped skirting around the edge and crossed right over." Arimar sighs, but then smiles. His face shows no disdain and he tries to stay as nonjudgemental as one can in such a situation.
"I'm worried that you might one day get into a battle that you cannot win," Arimar squeezes hard on his friend's shoulder, "And I fear that it might be because you think you are fighting alone. I have always fought with you, and now Sarenrae has given me the strength to fight alongside you. This new body of mine is strong, Benaiah, and encased in steel. I will happily place it between you and harm... together we can face down our foes and be victorious every time!
"So, what do you say, can we face off against this powdery nemesis and put it behind us?"
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"Yes... my extracts. Ahhh..." the large man begins sheepishly. "Sorry about that." he lowers his eyes to the ground as his breathing and heartbeat begin to approach normal. He takes a deep breath in, his shoulders rising and pausing as he holds his breath for a moment.
In one large sigh, he exhales out the tension in his shoulders and takes a moment to observe the view from their present location, decidedly different from the city-scape they were in only minutes ago.
"I hear you, friend. I do." he begins softly. A battle I cannot win. I've been in that since.... for too long. "The battle... I.." he stumbles, trying to find the words, "It's not one that you can get in the middle of. At least not the way you are suggesting." He looks up at his friend's face, for the first time appreciating the change he has gone through fully.
"I wasn't always alone when I dealt with..." he pauses abruptly, his mind wandering to a red-headed woman and her enchanting voice, then continues before finishing that thought, "But then I was alone, and it's been that way for quite some time. I'm sorry for nearly getting my head lopped off there, but maybe it was for the best." Benaiah chuckles slightly and quickly continues in an effort to explain that morbid declaration.
"I'm not really sure I can explain what is happening to me, or what just happened a minute ago, but for the first time in years I think..." the big, burly man pauses for a second, swallowing hard, "I think I finally get it that I'm not fighting alone." he finishes with another smile and a deep, cleansing breath to steady his shaky hands. He turns to acknowledge Gwen with that smile as well, remembering the connection her song reminded him of.
"So, what do you say, can we face off against this powdery nemesis and put it behind us?"
He pulls the powder box out of his pocket, looking at the fine craftsmanship, imagining what is within each of the little compartments inside, neatly ordered and divided. Finally he looks back at the paladin with an apologetic look on his face. "It's not quite that simple though."
"It could be simpler than you think," Arimar offers, hand still on his friend's shoulder, "Look where we are? No place to replenish your stash. No way of getting any more. I'm assuming your extracts for today are already mixed, but we can just... and I hope you take this in the right way... dump the rest right here and move on. That won't help you today - unless we don't have need of your extracts - but it will help tomorrow." The paladin looks meaningfully at Benaiah's intricate snuff box.
"If it's vials you need, I have a few... and I'm sure the good doctor has brought some along. I'd be happy to donate mine, and I think we can convince the doctor to do the same - for the good of the mission.
"As for the withdrawals, I can perhaps help a little with Sarenrae's grace. What do you say? Shall we leave the rest right here and push on, knowing you have no choice but to feel well again... and rely upon you friends to help you get there?" Arimar gives Benaiah a big smile that he hopes is reassuring.
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Benaiah's face clouds over suddenly, and he reaches for the furs he had packed away for the expected weather in this area. As he reaches, somehow the powder box disappears from sight. Grabbing the edge of the thick, white-furred polar bear cape, he pulls it onto his shoulder and then tight around his chest, standing up.
"It's not that simple." he says again, more resolutely, and much harsher than he intended. "I'm fine now, feeling much better."
Unwilling to discuss the matter further, he takes his scythe in his hand and secures his pack on his back tightly and moves off down the trail that leads to the base of the mountain.
"Hey, let's get moving before we run into any more giants." he says gruffly, eyes on the ground in front of him. "Hey doctor, are you sure this is the right way? We aren't walking into a dragon's lair by accident are we?" he snaps, not slowing down or looking back to see the result of his barb.
"Fine, my friend," Arimar doesn't force the issue as Benaiah stuffs his drugs away in his pack, "You say it is complicated, and I believe you. We can unravel it together. For now, please just promise me you'll make some more potions and few less... powdered enhancements, yes?"
With that, Arimar trudges on after Benaiah, concern furrowing his brow.
"By the way, I always thought that intrepid adventures loot the slain. Shouldn't you inspect their lodging for clues?" Doctor Archisa Aparn points to their ramshackle tent structure.
Taking his advice, the Companions cautiously move toward it. Opening the flap, they see much the same of the campsite, various indistinguishable meats, trash, a few sacks and one oread male youth, bound and gagged, seemingly unconscious.
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.... Opening the flap, they see much the same of the campsite, various indistinguishable meats, trash, a few sacks and one oread male youth, bound and gagged, seemingly unconscious.
Lootz...
Oooooh perfect. This will definitely deflect Arimar's attention for a while.
"Here! Over here! Thank the gods he is still alive. I think anyways... Hey boy, you ok?" Benaiah kneels down at the side of the youth, pulling the gag off and gently slapping his stony cheeks. He pushes his face closer to make sure he can feel breathing, watching for the rise and fall of the oread's chest.
"Here Arimar, you're better at this than me..." Benaiah passes the immediate health care off to a more capable healer and goes to work immediately on the bindings.