Vallen's eyebrows slowly raise as Cueta continues talking, rattling off a bunch of questions. He doesn't interrupt her, but when she finally stops he runs a hand over his face in exasperation. "Cueta, I can barely have a conversation with them, and I probably sound like a troglodyte, at best. I'm going to keep the questions simple so the answers are simple."
He inhales, and begins to fiddle with his rings. "I'll ask them what they want to trade for, that's a good question. And if they have any alcohol...I hope they know how to make whiskey."
Turning back to Blaidd, Vallen asks two more questions. "Rydym yn dymuno i fasnachu yn fwy yn y dyfodol. Beth eisiau? Offer o fetel, fel llafnau? Arfau? Gallwn eu gwneud o fetel, fel llafnau. Wood? Gallwn dorri planciau glân, yn syth. A all gerfio carreg yn ogystal."
Once that is answered, he moves to the second question. "Cydymaith yn dymuno gwybod. Cael cwrw? Gwybod sut i wneud o rawn?"
Turning back to Blaidd, Vallen asks two more questions. "We wish to trade more in future. What want? Tools of metal, like blades? Weapons? We can make them of metal, like blades. Wood? We cut planks clean, straight. Can carve stone too."
Once that is answered, he moves to the second question. "Companion wish to know. Have beer? Know how to make from grain?"
"Yr wyf Hamgen," said the other elder, several posts earlier.
Blaidd sends one of the younger hobgoblins to retrieve something, and engages in a long session of questioning Vallen. He seems troubled, and Hamgen has gone silent, simply glaring.
"Geifr gwyllt." Blaidd smiles at Zoriya, then turns to Vallen to translate. "Maent yn byw yn y bryniau, mae ein dynion ifanc yn eu hela i hyfforddi gyda gwaywffon a bwyell."
At that point, the hob they sent away returns with a baroque but recognizable glaive, made of steel on a wooden haft.
"Mae hyn yn yr hyn yr ydym ei angen," he says. "i ymladd gythreuliaid."
Vallen will appear flabbergasted and slightly frustrated to the others as he attempts to explain the meaning of the gods to the hobgoblins. This is disturbing. Demons rule the land, sea, hearts, minds, and souls of those in this land... Torag, I will bring your light back to these dark caves.
Vallen turns back to Zoriya, actually answering one of their questions. This one was quick and not part of the grand scheme of things, so he didn't mind. "They're wild, Zoriya, they hunt them."
The priest looks at the glaive curiously, gesturing that he wishes to inspect it. If given the weapon, the dwarf attempts to discern its age and what race its design resembles.
He looks up, nodding. "Rwy'n gallu gwneud hyn. Faint o chi eisiau? A fydd yn dod y tro nesaf, masnach ar gyfer bwyd neu hadau?"
Gair nods at the mention of the wild goats, "Good, we should have one of their warriors show us where as we leave. We would do well to bring a couple back to Newspring with us."
The glaive produced by the younger hob definitely catches the kellid's interest. He moves beside Vallen to get a closer look, "Far better than the weapons we have seen so far. I might well ask you to make me something similar when there is time Vallen. It is obviously not their own creation, ask them where they found it. Perhaps there are more such weapons waiting to be recovered?"
The dwarf is closely inspecting the glaive, running his fingers over the metal. "I'd be happy to make one for you, Gair. They said they use these glaives to fight the demons, and want more of them. I think these are Elven...maybe... perhaps... is this cold iron?"
He mutters, inspecting the grain of the metal and looking for the tell-tale indentations cold-forging leaves.
Scratching his beard, Vallen whispers a quick spell to detect magic. If the glaive is not made of cold iron, it is possibly magical.
Zoriya smiles warmly back at Blaidd as she edges in closer, taking a place by Vallen and running a slim finger along the metal of the glaive once Vallen is done with it.
"I hope you two can chase goats better than I," she murmurs to Gair and Cueta--Cueta in particular--before returning her attention to the elders, "Silverclasp, please ask our hosts if they have bows and arrows. It would be more economical to make smaller blades, correct? At least for these black birds."
The glaive is made of ordinary steel, though expertly forged and in a style that Vallen doesn't recognize.
"Yn ein clan yn dri deg un o rhyfelwyr gwaed," Blaidd says. "Byddwn wedi creu arfau ar gyfer pob un ohonynt. Ar gyfer pob arf o ansawdd hwn, gallwn ddarparu cant bwyd."
"Ni fydd rhyfelwyr newynog yn gallu ymladd," Hamgen hisses.
"It is spring. We will recover the lost food, and be as strong as our enemies," Blaidd says to the other elder, impatiently. He turns to Vallen. "Pa mor hir y bydd yn mynd â chi i greu arfau?"
Hamgen: Starving warriors will not be able to fight.
Blaidd: It is spring. We will recover the lost food, and be as strong as our enemies.
"Cydymaith yn dymuno gwybod, byddwch yn defnyddio bwa a saeth?" He makes a gesture as if knocking an arrow, and firing it, before remembering Cueta has a bow, gesturing to her. "Can you show them your bow Cueta?"
Vallen stares hard at the glaive for some time, considering Blaidd's question. He replies in Goblin. "Arf o ansawdd uchel iawn. Byddai cymryd tri diwrnod hir o waith i wneud fel hyn. Byddai gweithio drwy hunan cymryd tan yr haf i wneud yr holl. A fydd angen i gasglu fetel hefyd." Vallen hands the glaive back, and stares at his hands in contemplation.
He suddenly reaches for the leather holy tome hooked on his belt, and begins flipping through the pages of Hammer and Tongs: The Forging of Metal and Other Good Works. "Metel arbennig o'r enw haearn oer. Arfau llosgi gythreuliaid. Yn gallu gwneud llawer cyflymach, llawer gwell, os gallaf ddod o hyd i metel ..."
Vallen stares hard at the glaive for some time, considering Blaidd's question. He replies in Goblin. "Very high quality weapon. Would take three long days work to make like this. Working by self would take until summer to make all. Will need to gather metal as well." Vallen hands the glaive back, and stares at his hands in contemplation.
He suddenly reaches for the leather holy tome hooked on his belt, and begins flipping through the pages of Hammer and Tongs: The Forging of Metal and Other Good Works. "Special metal called cold iron. Weapons burn demons. Can make much faster, much better, if I can find metal..."
The dwarf partially updates his companions while he flips through the book. "They want us to supply them with glaives to fight bird demons that often appear in the area, high-quality ones, in exchange for food. I can make them, but it will take a while, and I would need the iron of course."
Cueta grins as Zoriya mentions chasing goats. "I've never chased one, but if they can catch them, I'm sure that we can too."
Unslinging her bow and an arrow, Cueta notches the arrow to the bow, pointing the arrow's tip at the ground the whole time. Raising the bow away from the goblins, she releases the arrow towards one of the blank walls of the chamber. Turning and looking to Blaidd, she says to Vallen, "If they want my bow, they can have it. If they want my bill, they can have it as well. As a trade for food of course."
Vallen fills his traveling companions in as he thumbs through his holy text, searching for the section on cold iron.
"This is what I've gathered so far from Blaidd and Hamgen." The dwarf inhales a large breath, thinking how he wants to phrase everything. "The bugbears live by the eastern shore, and occupy the plains beyond the cliffs. The hobgoblins are here in the hills, and the two tribes leave each other alone. Blaidd has told me his clan has thirty-one capable warriors, and he wants them to all to have glaives like this one. It may not be possible to secure this quality of metal without dedicated miners, to be honest."
He gestures at the glaive. "Strangely, I do not recognize this style. It is neither dwarf, elf, orc, gnome, Taldan, Varisan.... well, you understand. I know not who forged this weapon but they did spectacular work." Blue eyes stare up at the sky for a moment. "Could the Dwarves have ceased chasing Zoriya and Tomag's group because they did not want to enter the Elves' territory?"
The dwarf continues with the other information. "Blaidd has not seen dwarves for many years, and says the elves hold the coast. We haven't seen any elves, so either they're gone or they're on the western side of the bay...Which indicates we're between demon-worshipping dwarves to the east and possibly demon-worshipping elves to the west. In the Portress the reliefs described the elves, dwarves, and bird demons allying against a common foe. But what or whom? The dwarves are still here, so... they were not victorious."
He sighs, staring down at his book for several moments. "Blaidd says there are flying, black bird demons that are a constant danger in these parts. When they see fire on hilltops, they gravitate towards it and kill whatever made it. We must warn our foragers to not light fires after dark. Additionally, the elves and the bird demons are allies... Which means they probably worship some kind of demons as well, just as the dwarves do." He says despondently, another potential, familiar ally now a potential enemy.
Broaching the most chilling of subjects, Vallen puts his head in his hands. "Kal'tos. Tomag. The most disturbing revelation I have had while speaking to Blaidd and Hamgen is that they do not understand the concept of our gods, which they call gythreuliaid- the same word for demons. Here, in this land, there is nothing but demons, and nothing to worship except demon lords, apparently. They do not know of Torag, Abadar, or Sarenrae, and when I attempted to explain them they could not understand how they are different from the demon lords. It is clear this land has been outside the influence of our gods for many ages- perhaps since Torag forged the world and left it to us. We could be the first to shine the light of our deities upon this shadowed land..."
Zoriya takes all of this in with slightly narrowed eyes, especially the charged exchange between the two hobgoblin elders. The number of their warriors causes her to adjust her reckoning of the situation, especially with their desire for weapons.
"The gods are patient, Silverclasp. Our hungry people are not," Zoriya shakes her head, and unwittingly echoes Hamgen's objection, "Neither are our enemies, and warriors fight on their stomachs."
"We cannot wait for food upon the delivery of weapons," she goes on, casting a glance in Blaidd and Hamgen's direction with an even more emphatic shake of her head, "We must have a greater advance. No one will mine for iron or make weapons if they aren't fed. I am more than willing to entertain overseers from the tribe at our settlement so they will know we are in earnest--but we must have food first. All of us, not only our workers, because no one will labor willingly while their companions starve, and we will be vulnerable if our warriors grow hungry."
Gair listens intently as Vallen lays out all he has learned from the hobs, commenting frequently.
"One and thirty warriors...their numbers can be no more than ours. Do they know anything of the bugbear's numbers? Likely even fewer."
At the mention of reproducing the glaives, he leans closer to the one produced, "This is a masterful weapon, not simple to make, even for one so skilled as you Vallen. How much food will they trade for one of it's like?", assuming the dwarf tells him, Gair shakes his head, his gaze moving to Blaidd and Hamgen, "It is not enough, not by far. Such a weapon would be worth a bounty in my homeland. They offer perhaps a quarter of it's value. You must demand more if you intend to make such weapons for them."
The kellid frowns at the discussion of territory and potential enemies, "We would do well to assume we are surrounded. It is likely best we limit our advances towards the coast for the time being."
The black birds prompt some consideration from the warrior, "We know too little of these creatures. Perhaps we should lay a trap on our way home. Put these black birds to the test? Valentinian and the others were brave but true warriors they were not."
More than anything, he shrugs as Vallen speaks of the absence of the gods in this land, "My people have held to worship forgotten by the lands around us for generations. It matters little so long as you remain true to your faith."
He nods at Zoriya words, "An advance would do us well. We need to return to Newspring with as much to show for our efforts as possible."
He suddenly reaches for the leather holy tome hooked on his belt, and begins flipping through the pages of Hammer and Tongs: The Forging of Metal and Other Good Works. "Special metal called cold iron. Weapons burn demons. Can make much faster, much better, if I can find metal..."
He suddenly reaches for the leather holy tome hooked on his belt, and begins flipping through the pages of Hammer and Tongs: The Forging of Metal and Other Good Works. "Special metal called cold iron. Weapons burn demons. Much better, will kill demons, if I can find metal..."
Broaching the most chilling of subjects, Vallen puts his head in his hands. "Kal'tos. Tomag. The most disturbing revelation I have had while speaking to Blaidd and Hamgen is that they do not understand the concept of our gods, which they call gythreuliaid- the same word for demons. Here, in this land, there is nothing but demons, and nothing to worship except demon lords, apparently. They do not know of Torag, Abadar, or Sarenrae, and when I attempted to explain them they could not understand how they are different from the demon lords. It is clear this land has been outside the influence of our gods for many ages- perhaps since Torag forged the world and left it to us. We could be the first to shine the light of our deities upon this shadowed land..."
Tomag's expression droops as Vallen speaks, but his smile returns as the dwarven man finishes. "I believe you are correct, Brother Vallen. We could be the first to show these folk that not ever being beyond our kind is out to destroy us. We can teach them of my Lady's forgiveness, of great Torag's craftsmanship, of lord Abadar's law," the half-orc says, his eyes practically twinkling. "It is possible that this may even be the reason we have found ourselves in this situation. All I know is that this is a glorious chance that we have been presented with."
Zoriya takes all of this in with slightly narrowed eyes, especially the charged exchange between the two hobgoblin elders. The number of their warriors causes her to adjust her reckoning of the situation, especially with their desire for weapons.
"The gods are patient, Silverclasp. Our hungry people are not," Zoriya shakes her head, and unwittingly echoes Hamgen's objection, "Neither are our enemies, and warriors fight on their stomachs."
"We cannot wait for food upon the delivery of weapons," she goes on, casting a glance in Blaidd and Hamgen's direction with an even more emphatic shake of her head, "We must have a greater advance. No one will mine for iron or make weapons if they aren't fed. I am more than willing to entertain overseers from the tribe at our settlement so they will know we are in earnest--but we must have food first. All of us, not only our workers, because no one will labor willingly while their companions starve, and we will be vulnerable if our warriors grow hungry."
Tomag nods at Zoriya's words, though his expression becomes a bit more neutral. "Yes, you are right, lady Zoriya. While my belief can sustain me, it cannot fill my stomach." The Sarenraen scratches his stubbly chin, thinking hard about what to do in this situation.
He nods at Zoriya words, "An advance would do us well. We need to return to Newspring with as much to show for our efforts as possible."
"Ah!" Tomag starts from his contemplation at Gair's words. "Yes, an advance! We could promise them assistance and weapons in exchange for more food for our people. That is a splendid idea, sir Hearthseeker," he says, the half-orc's smile returning to its full glory. "But what sort of assistance could we provide?" Tomag asks, a furrow in his brow.
"perhaps they will pay us for scalps? Either of these corrupted elves or their demon allies."
Gair nods, "That would be useful. Each of our enemies we slay could help feed Newspring. "
Cueta is heartened by Tomag's enthusiasm towards the hobgoblins. "Indeed, Tomag, surely when they see your gods' values - healing, artifice, civilization - the goblins will be understand the difference. This is as much an opportunity as anything."
Vallen fiddles with the rings on his beard, running his fingers over the engraved surface.
"I will ask for the advance. And another matter that occured to me. We should offer one of their own a home in Newspring. I can teach the young hob smithing, and Sorala could teach them common. In turn, they can teach us goblin and relay to the hobs we are keeping our end of the deal..."
Tomag smiles at both Cueta and Vallen. "This is surely a fine way to build a bond between us and these folk," the half-orc says, resting both hands on his hips. "We will need to assure the villagers that whoever they send will be an ally, but I believe this plan would be the most beneficial for both of us." He nods twice, looking obviously pleased about the situation.
Gair simply shrugs, "Each of us in Newspring arrived a half downed refugee and we have no feud with this tribe. So long as this one keeps to himself, I foresee no problems. "
"Assuming they'll trust us with one of their own, of course. Is there anyone we could offer in exchange?" Zoriya pauses, then innocuously adds, "The Thayer boy seems a suitably prestigious person, does he not?"
Vallen shakes his head at Zorya's suggestion. "Edmund... ah... he's... not the greatest diplomat. We should ask for a volunteer if the hobs decide to accept."
"Rydym yn defnyddio bwâu," Blaidd says, looking at Vallen curiously. "Dyma'r ffordd orau i ymladd adar."
Hamgen leans in and whispers to Blaidd, who nods his head.
"Arfau llai wedyn, am bum fwyd bob," he says.
You hear a whistling sound, and Blaidd, Hamgen and their attendants all bow their heads.
The first female hobgoblin that you've seen (except from a great distance) enters from somewhere deeper in the cave. She is whistling, and covered from head to toe in cloth, actual woven wool, it looks like, which you have not seen any of the others wearing. She sets a jug down in front of Blaidd and says to him.
"llygaid miniog ar gyfer y rhain," she says.
"Heb unrhyw warant?" Blaidd says, doubtfully.
"Os gall yr awyr wyliwr dysgu gwaith dur, ie. Mae eu newyn yw ein gwarant."
Blaidd sighs and the woman returns to the dark recesses of the cave.
He opens the jug and takes a small sip, wincing, and offers it to Hamgen. Hamgen frowns for a few seconds before he drinks. He passes it to Vallen, and just from holding the bottle, he can smell the alcohol.
Blaidd: With no guarantee?
Ms. Hob. If the sky watcher can teach steel working, yes. Their hunger is our guarantee.
Vallen looks back at his companions. "Yes they use bows, they say it's the best way to fight the birds."
The dwarf is about to begin negotiating the trade agreement when he hears the whistling. Looking over his shoulder, he carefully scrutinizes the female hobgoblin. "She is wearing much finer clothes than the others. A matriarch?" He comments to his companions.
The dwarf looks at the jug curiously, raising an eyebrow as Blaidd grimaces. When Vallen is handed the cup and the aroma reaches his sensitive dwarven nose, his eyes widen. "This is alcohol!" The dwarf delicately inhales the bouquet of the drink, and takes a sip.
An experienced whiskey drinker, dwarf the simply smacks his lips together and gives his head a shake at the extremely potent fermented drink. "I don't think we should let any of the humans have this, Kal'tos, it'll knock them right on their buttocks. Tomag can probably handle it. Just sip it." He offers the drink to Kal'tos first, his brother in cloth and booze.
Vallen bows his head to the elders, touching his holy symbol briefly. Grundinnar, bless my speech and secure a future for the people of Newspring.
"Diod da. Cryf fel diod corrach." He asks a few questions before his pitch. "Woman- pwy oedd hi? matriarch? Beth olygu" miniog-llygaid? "Beth olygu" awyr-watcher? "
"Good drink. Strong, like dwarf drink."
"Woman- who she? Matriarch? What mean "sharp-eyes?" What mean "sky-watcher?"
The priest begins to put together his pitch as eloquently as he can fathom. What would my parents think of this? Negotiating a trade deal with hobgoblins in a broken tongue while clinging to survival. ...I wish Jarla was here. I should teach her goblin.
"Here deal. 8 food one steel glaive. 16 food one cold-iron glaive. Will bring one of each next time, see if like, test cold-iron on demon- special metal, should burn, but want know before make more, take longer than steel. Will be half-moon phase before return. Us want to be brothers- offer exchange. When come back, we take smartest of hobgoblins to Newspring- you choose hobgoblin. I teach how to shape steel, teach our tongue to hobgoblin, live with us. Hobgoblin teach us speak your tongue, make sure us honor deal. I will make sure fed, will be my charge. Can take hobgoblin with now, you choose. If want, we send Newspring person to live with hobgoblins, learn your ways, how to better use land."
Vallen then tackles the more difficult part of the deal. "We not have much food. Companions say need forward pay for weapons if we survive spring. I not ask for much, have given much already, very grateful. 24 food now for first two glaives, steel and cold iron, all I ask."
Kal'Tos accepts the jug from Vallen and takes a sip.
"Това е мощен неща" he gestures at the jug. "човек може да ослепее ако той пиеше твърде много на това. Одобрявам."
Gair's interest perk up at the mention of bows, he jerks his head towards Blaidd and Hamgen, "This is good, ask if they will trade for Ceuta's bow? I can make more but they take time and skill. Each would be worth 50 food. See if this is acceptable? And how many they would require?"
Gair's eyes follow the female hobgoblin as she approaches, unsure of what to make of the new arrival. When Vallen announces the contents of the jug she offered, the kellid warrior smirks at the dwarf, "I would not be so stingy my friend. I doubt you or your kin have ever tried fermented mammoth's milk."
Vallen chuckles at Kal'tos. The cleric usually avoids speaking in Dwarven in front of those that do not understand it, but he makes an exception this time.
"Ето защо аз исках да го държи далеч от хората, и двете, така че ние може да го ползват и да ги предпази от загуба на един орган."
He glances at Gair, giving a small smile. "Can't say I have- if we find some mammoths, milk them and give us a taste."
Turning back to the Elders, he translates about the bow. "Un Dark, Cueta, dymuniadau i fasnachu bwa fer ar gyfer 50 bwyd, yn ogystal.
" He gestures to the ranger.
"If the Kellid thinks he can handle it, let him try. Personally I haven't tasted anything that strong since my Uncle Tord'Tos made his special batch for my father's 200th birthday. Made your beard grow faster that stuff did. и човешкото търговец, който е бил там необходимо вниманието на лечител, след като се опитва.
Just a taste is enough to let you know this is not just your average stuff. It burns even the most jaded tongue and the burning doesn't stop until it reaches your belly. The lack of smoke coming out of your ears is hard to explain, and the fire seems a little brighter, right away.
Hamgen puts a hand on Blaidd's shoulder and they share a smile.
They listen carefully to Vallen's offer, and they exchange a few glances.
"Rydym wedi bwâu. Nid oes gennym unrhyw angen am hynny," Hamgen says, a definite note of disdain entering his voice.
"Un haearn oer, un dur, ac yn eich dysgu Llygaid Miniog i wneud llafnau hyn." Blaidd says, grinning, or maybe he's just reminding you he has fangs. He thinks about the rest of the offer for a short while before he answers, speaking slowly. "Deuaf gyda chi i Gwanwynnewydd ac yn dewis un i ddod yn ôl yma. Byddwch yn dewis ail. Maent yn dysgu ein ffyrdd, Llygaid Miniog yn dysgu eich ffyrdd. Bydd y bwyd y byddwch yn gofyn am ddod pan fyddaf wedi dychwelyd yma yn ddiogel gyda eich pobl."
Hamgen (disdainfully): We have bows. We have no need for those.
Blaidd: One cold iron, one steel, and you teach Sharp Eyes to make these blades... I will come with you to Newspring and choose one to bring back here. You will choose a second. They learn our ways, Sharp Eyes learns your ways. The food you ask for will come when I have returned here safely with your people.
Tomag moves to stand next to Vallen, smiling widely at the group's new allies. He rests an oafish hand on the dwarf's shoulder, showing his support. "We hope to get along well with you in the future," he says to the hobgoblins, even though he knows they cannot understand his meaning, "and this is a great way to start." He somehow smiles even more widely, trying to express his feelings with his tone and body language, if not with his tongue.
===
Tomag takes a sip of the hobgoblin booze, wincing at how strong it is. "Dawnflower's grace, this is potent. I can see why they have survived this long in this place," the Sarenraen jokes, his face still a tad puckered from the alcohol.
Fort Save (including the +2 for dwarven resistance to toxins/ poisons)
Gair sucks his teeth hard as he takes a mouthful of the potent liquid. With obvious effort he swallows, snorting softly, "Reminds me of the stuff my father used to make...he was always terrible at it."
Cueta chuckles long and low at Vallen's assessment of Edmund. "He has all the good humor - and sense of humor - of a boiled turnip. We'd be at war in a week. His sister, though..."
As the grain alcohol comes out, Cueta sits up attentively. "Dwarves? Dwarves! I've not met many, but no one can outdrink a mariner of the Shackles. We begin our day with grog, and end it with a fistfight!" Grabbing the jar, the young woman takes a long chug, barely registering the burn at the back of her throat. Letting out a satisfied belch, she leans back and whistles. "I've had worse. Vallen, ask if they'd take a couple of axes for jar of this grog."
Shifting foward on her feet again, the Mwangi adopts a somber tone. "Seriously though, please let Blaidd know that we appreciate his hospitality. I think I can speak for all of us when I say thank you. These goblins have my respect."
Vallen waits for the burning to subside as he listens to the hobgoblins, nodding. "Nid oes tramgwydd ystyr bwa. Angen llawer o cegau bwyd- llwglyd."
Considering their counter-proposal, he nods. "A fydd dysgu Llygaid Sharp. Gwaith caled, yn gymhleth, yn cymryd amser i Llygaid Sharp i ddysgu Ffordd o Forge- Ffordd o Torag."
Vallen considers a few other points. "Chi sy'n dewis un i ddod, ond rhaid i un yn cytuno. Rydym â gorfodi person i adael y pentref. Unwaith y byddant yn clywed yn bwydo, yn debygol o gytuno. Fater arall. Yn ein hobgoblins tir ofni, nid yn ymddiried ynddo. Yn cael llawer o ryfelwyr, ymladd llawer gyda'n caredig, cyrch a pillage. Wedi ein diogelu, ond nid oes disgwyl cofleidio."
Vallen waits for the burning to subside as he listens to the hobgoblins, nodding. "No offense meant by bow. Need food- many hungry mouths."
Considering their counter-proposal, he nods. "Will teach Sharp Eyes. Hard work, complex, take time for Sharp Eyes to learn Way of Forge- Way of Torag."
Vallen considers a few other points. "You choose one to bring, but one must agree. We not force person to leave village. Once they hear you feed, will likely agree. Other matter. In our land hobgoblins feared, not trusted. Have many warriors, fight much with our kind, raid and pillage. Have our protection, but expect no embrace."
Vallen turns back to the group. "They don't want any bows. We will be taking hobgoblin back with us named Sharp-eyes. I will teach him the Art of Torag's Forge and Sharp-eyes will live among us. Blaidd will also be coming with us, and will choose one of our populace to return with him. I have already stipulated the person must agree. We will choose a second person to live with the hobgoblins as well- we can ask for a volunteer. An advance payment in food for two glaives, one steel and the other cold iron, will be made when Blaidd returns to his village."
The dwarf exhales. "I don't think I can talk them into a better deal than this. Once they trust us more, they may give us more."
Gair's approving nod as Vallen laid out the plan turns to a frown slowly, "So Blaidd will be returning immediately? Leaving two of our number with the hobs and only one of theirs in Newspring? No, if we are too make such an exchange it must be equal. Two from their tribe or only one of ours."
He looks to Blaidd and Hamgen, "Let then know we will treat their kinsmen with respect and teach them all we are able. I offer my own guarantee that they will come to no harm so long as they show similar respect to us and ours."
"You did well," Zoriya tells Vallen, smiling slightly, "Better than I, certainly. And of course we won't send the Thayer boy, he's far too callow." She glances around the group, still smiling. "Best not to tell him that, I think. We will find better."
"I agree with the Kellid on the count of exchanges." She turns serious, her gaze moving to the hobgoblin elders. "I am sure another of their tribe would be helpful--not least so that neither feel entirely alone among strangers."
And because allowing these hobgoblins an advantage in hostage taking is permitting too much, she neglects to add, given her current straightforward and largely uncivilized company.
She picks up the hobgoblin brew and raises it in a toast to the elders, then makes as if to drink from it.
She only allows the liquid to touch her lips and makes sure to swallow none of it; the symbolic gesture is the important thing.
"To a long and mutually beneficial alliance."
Tomag nods emphatically. "They shall not regret befriending us," the half-orc states with a silly grin. He pats Vallen on the shoulder once again, saying, "We shall recall this moment fondly in the months to come."
Vallen strokes his beard, listening to the group's input. "If I were going to live with the hobgoblins, I would want someone else I knew there as well, to ease the change. We should send two of our people, our choice, probably volunteers, and the hobgoblins should send two of theirs."
He touches his holy symbol once more, whispering a prayer.
The dwarf turns back to Blaidd and Hamgen. "Companions yn cytuno yn bennaf i ddelio. Eisiau dau hobgoblins i ddod gyda ni, yn byw gyda ni, byddwch yn dewis. Sharp-llygaid ac eraill. Gallu addysgu'r sgiliau eraill hobgoblin eraill. Rydym yn dewis dau o Newspring i fynd gyda chi, yn byw gyda chi, byddwch yn dysgu, yn dysgu. Maent nid yn unig y ffordd hon." Vallen seems the most confident he has ever been, and his companions are behind him, smiling and united together.
Blaidd and Hamgen hear the counter-counter proposal and look at eachother for less than a heartbeat before they both say "Gwenci."
The hobgoblin that comes forward is young, and his eyes jump from one to the other of you while his mouth is set in an arrogant smirk. You can't help but wonder if they've just given you their Edmund Thayer.
"Thiocfaidh mé chun tú an bhaile," he says.
Hamgen glances sharply at the youth, but Blaidd smiles.
"Rydym yn derbyn eich amodau," Blaidd says. "Mae dau o'n rhai ni ar gyfer dau o eiddo. Byddwn yn dewis o blith y rhai sy'n barod i wirfoddoli. Os nad oes unrhyw beth yn fwy, efallai y byddwch yn gorffwys yma tan y wawr."
Once others have tried the jug's contents, Kal'Tos takes a second swig.
"Vallen, we need the recipe for this stuff. It might actually be stronger than any other drink I have had."
You can't help but wonder if they've just given you their Edmund Thayer.
Vallen is momentarily confused as the hobgoblins both say something that may be a name. It all becomes clear as the young hobgoblin steps forward, radiating arrogance. Perhaps we should teach this one sailing, and fishing.
Vallen is quite surprised when he speaks old world goblin. Did the youth pick it up just from listening to Vallen's fumbling with their native tongue?
The dwarf bows his head slightly to Gwenci, and replies to Blaidd and Hamgen. "Zoriya dweud cychwyn hir, cynghrair hardd. Yr wyf yn cytuno. Diolch i chi Blaidd, Hamgen. A fydd yn gadael gyda'r wawr, yn dychwelyd i Newspring."
The priest starts to relax, but it only makes him appear visibly exhausted. Acting as the focus of these important negotiations has caused the cleric great stress. "It is done. We will ask for volunteers to return with Blaidd, and he will choose two. Sharp-eyes and Gwenci will return with us. I will teach Sharp-eyes the Art of Torag's Forge, and... well I'm not sure what to do with Gwenci, honestly."
Vallen chuckles at Kal'tos. "Aye, I've never felt something go to my head that fast. We can ask later, but I'm no brewer and may not understand their process completely."
"Gwenci." Zoriya evaluates the boy, meeting his arrogant smirk with a cool amusement of her own. "Perhaps we should ask him what he wants to learn."
"I might also be able to...help with your brewing. I wonder how flammable it is?" She examines the hobgoblin drink with more interest now that the thought of burning has occurred to her.
Cueta takes her bedroll and lays it out as near to the fire as she can stand. Soon, she begins to sweat, but the warrior relishes every moment of the fire's heat on her skin. Her head a little fuzzy from the grain drink, the Mwangi woman sets her pack behind her and using it as a pillow, is soon fast on her way to sleep, the fire's light showing a slight smile on her lips as Cueta enjoys the sense of safety and community the campfire brings.
Gair smirks at the brewing discussion, "I leave it to your expertise. So long as you're willing to share."
He offers a curt nod to the hobgoblins as they depart for the night. Rolling out his own furs a short distance from the fire, Gair pauses to feed the roaring flames another log before turning in fur the night. While his weapons are set on the cave floor next to him, he seems content to trust in the hobs watch capabilities.
Kal'Tos sets his bedroll up near the rest of the party, his weapons close but not threatening.