"Fine, dragonkin", Themp snides as he slowly, but menacingly, approaches the kobold "but know this, there's a special arrow in my quiver for you if you even think of... facilitating our failure. I've heard daggers were more merciful than it."
"The poison that melts ones muscles?" Nme'an asks Themp, more for effect than out of any agreement for such a course of action. "I doubt that will be necessary. One does not help, after all, by calling harm to those he is helping..."
Turning to the Kobold, Nme'an begins to offer his hand but then stops and asks the obvious question: "Is my blood required as well?"
Beorae offers a simple nod to her half-elf companion, suggesting that Nme'an's blood is indeed required.
"Asante, Bi Sevenstone," Nme'an says before drawing his seldom used knife. He uses the blade to cut a large nick across the side of his thumb. A flow of blood drips from the small wound to the ground, much as the Kobold's did. Reaching out, the Paladin firmly grips the smaller creature's claw.
"I, Nme'an, will do all in my power to keep our side of this promise."
"A... small first payment," Nme'an explains, still attempting to keep his speech simple and understandable to the Kobold.
"Thank you, Miss Sevenstone,"
The momentary look of deflation at Themp’s threat is quickly covered with a solemn nod of agreement.
“Praw miss.” he says as the knight offers a bleeding hand. When he takes it, his eyes widen as the bite on his hand closes completely. The kobold seems a bit more optimistic about the oath, now that he received some healing. He thuds his chest with a fist proudly, “Olp. Olp” indicating what he wishes to be called.
He looks up again at the sky, and gestures north. “Go very. Tall rock ahead open. Quiet.”
The kobold helps Themp and Beorae keep an eye out for hidden hazards along the way. More than a dozen times he presses the side of his head to the knee high holes in the cliffside, appearing to listen, and seems to be satisfied with not hearing anything. The thief and druidess find one tripwire and one pit trap without Olp’s help, but he manages to point out another rockslide in-waiting before Sevenstone’s sharp eyes see it.
During this hour of travel, the four notice that the winding ravine broadens somewhat, and the kobold stops them just short of a particular corner. He holds a claw over his eyes, but still blinks and squints in the direct overhead sunlight. He gestures around the bend. “Land wide. Use of growing. Bright sun, farmer every on rest. Quiet.”
He creeps around the corner, and those that follow him see that the sheer cliffs on either side of the pass taper back to a steep incline, instead of straight drop. The flat ground widens between the two grades, with rows of low-growing, broad round leaves covering the worked earth. A few lanes divide the farmed land, which appears to stretch for a thousand feet, perhaps more, and the rows of growing food continue up the inclines as far as possible. A handful of kobold-sized holes punctuate the lanes between the vegetables, through they are presently covered.
Olp gestures to be quiet, and then points to beyond the farmland, before taking careful steps forward into the open land.
Beorae nods a friendly—if cautious—greeting to their new companion, “Welcome, Olp. My name is Bee-yor-ay, and this,” indicating her tiger companion, “is Shark.” As the name comes out of her mouth, Beorae realizes that the tiger's humorous name might be confusing for someone with only rudimentary knowledge of Common.
________
Nme'an returns to the back of the line. He keeps his movements quiet and his eye on their Kobold helper.
Pulling the elven cloak tighter around him, Themp advances out in the open after the kobold.
Led by Olp, the four pad quietly through the small canyon, the silence broken only by occasional birdsong and wind passing over the high mountains. While the going is slow, each of them maintains a silent profile as they sneak through the kobold agriculture on the central dirt road. Narrower, perpendicular lanes connect with the main path, dividing the farm into even squares. The round, broad leaves give off a faint, spicy smell.
The shape, size, and smell of the leaves betray the secrets that grow beneath: RADISHES!
After a half hour, Nme’an, along with anyone else watching Olp closely, sees that the captive kobold appears to be taking note of certain doors that they pass. He could be counting them.
The sun leans closer to the western edge of the widened ravine, and Olp fidgets anxiously and gestures that the four hurry, though he continues at their pace. By this time, the small field of vegetables is behind them, but the central dirt road continues down the canyon, with smaller paths leading to poorly-concealed hole covers. At last, they come upon a three-way fork in the road, one way leading right, straight ahead, and to the left. The left and right lead to hole covers similar to the others seen along the edge of the clearing, but the middle appears to fade into the continuing ravine.
Olp points to the door on the right. “In. Go. Use of store food. Food for cold moons to be.” He makes more animated jabs at the covering with his claw, emphasizing that one over the others they passed. “Not food in. Space to sleep. Not use of store, for at next next day.”
He starts down the path to the door on the right, and looks back to urge along the Thaleniel champions. “Farmer every not rest very! Go! Not ...slow.”
Nme'an nods to the Kobold.
"He thinks this closet of food will be safe for us to sleep in," he informs the others.
Themp eyes the kobold suspiciously.
Shrugging, he sets on towards the silo, ears open for any movement within.
Grinning wildly, the barbaric man stoops to grab a handful of the bright red roots. Quietly he begins to munch away on the pungent vegetables.
Mot pulls up what he expects to be red tubers, that are in fact blue, a few shades paler than robin eggs. They smell and taste very similar to the red radishes familiar to the folk of Vyren, but with an aftertaste that strays close to onions.
The Casns warrior may have never seen these before, but recalls a story told from the old crone about “moon radishes”. The story is about a man who ate too many under a full moon, and he lost his mind, hurtling him into a great and hilarious misadventure involving fey, demons, and a very insistent hat.
The kobold captive widens his eyes at the big wild man, but says nothing, preferring to keep silent as he sneaks up to the door. Themp hears noise behind them, at the hole covers where shadows are already cast. The doors sound like they are being opened and the workers filing out, idly conversing as they return to work.
Olp grips the door strangely, resulting in a click before he pulls it aside with some effort, revealing a small dark tunnel. The half-elves and humans would have to crawl on their hands and knees to continue, and the kobold assures that there is enough room in the storage area once they squeeze through. The passage walls are roughly hewn rock as Olp is followed by Mot, Beorae, Shark, and Nme’an. The thief notices a mechanism on the inside of the door, and not trusting it to be completely harmless, elects to stay behind to properly close the door behind them. Indeed, this suspicion is confirmed when he sees well-concealed holes in the walls of the tunnel, wider than his thumb, most likely for darts.
The four do not get far before “Och, Ah cannae see…” is quickly followed by an utterance from the druidess. The top of Shark’s head glows a near-blue white as it nuzzles Beorae’s hand, casting light on the stone walls and the opening to a larger area. At the entrance, the helpful kobold stands stock still in surprise.
A harsh voice in the kobold language calls from deeper in the food storage area. Light streams past a stammering Olp to reveal two kobolds standing over a disorganized pile of metal plates and straps. By the look of it, the two warriors were in the middle of trying to repurpose a man’s armor to fit their thin frames. Both wear a cuisse over the chest, and pauldrons strapped to one arm each, serving as a shield. One has part of a vambrace strapped to his legs. The other wears poleyns over his shoulders and gorget plates hang as a loose, protective metal collar.
The two start at the sight of the bulky hairy man kneeling behind the kobold under question. Their eyes narrow at Olp when they understand his intent, and look to the three pronged weapons laying at their feet.
They stoop and level the fork tines at Olp and advance cautiously. Olp squeals and covers his head, curling up along the wall of the storage room.
With a snarl, the highlander tumbles into the room, rising to his feet. The greatsword scrapes against the overhead stone as a dangerous gleam takes his eye.
The heavy blade clangs against the kobold’s new armor.
"Curse his sudden but inevitable betrayal...", mutters Themp as the clangs of metal against metal reverberates inside the room.
Glancing over his shoulder, he notices his companions are completely blocking his passage into the silo itself.
I suppose there's nothing else of use I could do right now. Might as well make this less dangerous.
Peaking around the corner, Nme'an catches a glimpse of the two guards who frightened Olp.
"Guards ahead," he say for Themp's benefit. "Itakuwa robo karibu mapigano huko. Labda unapaswa kukaa nyuma wakati mtu mkubwa na mimi kushughulikia suala hili," he then suggest to Beorae before squeezing past her and her companion.
Deep, shifting shadows spill into the larger storage area in front of the knight apprentice while a multitude of bright silvery reflections dance about in the tunnel behind him as he crawls forward. Only able to draw his shield in the narrow tunnel for risk of injuring himself or others, Nme'an places his back against the wall making space in case the Druidess or her glowing tiger decide to follow.
"It will be close quarters fighting in there. Perhaps you should stay back while the big man and I handle this," he then suggest to Beorae before squeezing past her and her companion.
“Good idea,” Beorae says, squeezing against the wall to let the paladin by. She sends Shark into the storage room after the half-elf.
The tiger, aglow, scampers into the room past Olp and immediately makes his way for the closest armored kobold.
One kobold yelps as Shark wraps a powerful hold over him, and squirms to escape. But the big grey tiger does not so easy release his prey.
The other jabs his trident at the highlander, but the points catch in the chain shirt that covers Mot’s chest.
Themp pulls the door nearly closed, and sees that without turning the concealed latch, simply pulling the door open would release a wound spring just inside the wall. He begins to move the latch back into place without disturbing the trigger…
The Casns warrior brings the greatsword around again.
The kobold before him suffers a terrible wound where no armor protects him, but the small scaly fighter tightens his grip on the trident in resolve.
With a firm hold on his prey, Shark rakes his hind claws against its back.
Deep in concentration with the delicate task at hand, Themp remains completely oblivious to the fighting inside. His only thought other than the latch is the treacherous kobold who led them into a trap.
Nme'an steps up and takes aim at the Kobold wounded by Mot.
for
Shark’s sharp claws scrape against steel as the kobold turns his three-pronged weapon toward the tiger’s grey fur.
But the close-quarters proves too difficult to land a hit.
The kobold warrior wavers when the paladin pulls away his bloodied sword. He stabs desperately at Mot’s meaty leg, and the highlander shifts his knee just in time.
The exertion is too much for his grievous wounds, the armored kobold falls forward when his stab fails to connect, and does not get up.
The city scoundrel sees hears the latch click into place, and the dart trap remains unsprung.
Nme'an watches the first Kobold collapse from its wounds. He turns to the second one and attacks, being careful not to hit Shark in the process.
for
The struggling kobold falls limp when Nme’an’s blade runs it through. After a moment, the only sound in the food silo is Olp’s whimpering, as he holds his head and stares in horror at his slaughtered kin. After a few moments, he looks up, realizing what the half-elves and humans might be thinking. “Not know!” he points at the dead kobolds, “Not know warriors be in! Not me trap!”
He remains on the ground, his hands held up in a placating gesture.
With the fight over, Nme’an recognizes the disassembled suit of full plate armor, parts of which are strapped to the two dead kobolds. Aside from the small tridents constructed to look like reptilian claws, these two warriors carried little else of use.
Turning towards the kobold, Themp puts on a murderous scowl. Slowly, but menacingly, he walks up to him.
"Don't you dare lie to us!", the thief threatens the small creature, punching the wall beside him for emphasis. "What are planning for us, dragonkin?!"
"I was still rounding the corner when we first encountered the other Kobold, but from the time I made it out of the crawl space till now all he has done is stayed down and out of the way," Nme'an says, referring to Olp. "Mot, Bi Sevenstone, did either of you see what happened in the first moments?"
Nme'an puts away his sword in a reassuring gesture. "Are these rooms usually guarded? Or were they maybe here for... some other reason? he asks their cowering guide. That the two warriors were attempting to strap on human sized heavy armor is not lost on the half-elf.
“Mot was the first in the room, but I'm pretty sure Olp didn't know these two were here.”
Moving over to the two downed kobolds, Beorae checks for a pulse and tries to stabilize them. “I think we should try to save these two if we can.”
“Och, aye! Teh two oopstarts looked as sooprized as our lettle leezard friend,” the highlander takes a step toward Olp and Themp, unsure if the thief intends violence on the whimpering kobold.
Olp waves his claws wildly at Themp’s accusations, “Not! Not know! Not plan but me live!” He holds up the claw that grasped Nme’an's in promise. “Praw miss did!”
The trapfinder recognizes the strain of an honest voice, desperate to be believed. Despite the broken Common tongue, Themp does not think Olp has any devious ulterior motives. His main concerns are the preservation of his own life, and the fulfillment of his oath, and walking them into what would be a pitiful ambush party was not the kobold’s intention.
The druidess is able to stop the bleeding for the first kobold to fall, the other’s wounds are too grievous, and she has difficulty holding the deep wounds closed. Olp sees what she is doing, and scampers on all fours to her side, and tries to help.
The kobold holds the wounds closed as Beorae works to dress them. Both armored warriors lie motionless, but no longer in threat of bleeding to death.
"We keep our promises..." Nme'an concludes.
Satisfied, for his part, that Olp is telling the truth, Nme'an turns his attention to the armor the two Kobold were strapping to themselves. He gather the pieces and looks them over, checking to see if there is any indication of who the set belonged to. A name etched into the inside of one of the pieces perhaps?
Taking a full breath, Themp steps away from the kobold.
"Fine. But next time, let us know about the traps your people usually use.", he advises, pointing at the door.
Olp looks up at Themp, nodding, “Me very… sukah wah...” His knowledge of the Common tongue fails him, and he gestures apologetically.
Nme’an doesn’t have reason to suspect that the two dead kobolds were on guard duty. Perhaps the armor was stored here until it was needed -it is difficult to be certain.
Speaking of the armor, the half-elf finds a short phrase scratched into the inside collar of the discarded breastplate: Virtue is the font from which honor springs. He recalls hearing that line from a knight major once, but his name does not come immediately to mind. An older knight, known for his charity toward the street urchins of Thaleniel.
Nme'an begins the process of changing out his lighter armor pieces for the plate armor. After a few minutes he begins to realize that fitting the heavier pieces and tightening their various straps and locks properly is more than a one person job. With a not so small amount of help from Beorae he is able to get everything into its proper place. The now properly gallant looking knight apprentice stands and attempts a few basic movements and is surprised at how well the new heavier armor moves with him.
"This armor is off too high a quality to not be the... former perhaps... property of one of the prince's party," he comments before asking: "Now what?"
“Now of wait,” Olp answers, “Do sleep in wait. Go quiet very when sun is up. Many eyes for not sun, many eyes sleep when sun is go up.”
Regarding his fallen kin with an uncertain grimace, the kobold skirts the wall of the storage room. Finding a suitable corner, he sits with his back to the stone, settling in for a long wait. “Me need ready, of not sleep for to sun go up.” He looks up at the men, the half-elves, and tiger, and admonishes “Not sound in wait. Quiet.” Olp points to the two unconscious warriors, "Very watch. Wake be might soon."
“Sounds like we're in for a long rest. That is, if we're not leaving before sunrise.” Considering the two unconscious warriors, Beorae asks, “And how are we going to make sure these two stay quiet? I have some rope if tying them up will help.”
"I will help you Bi Sevenstone," Nme'an offers in regards to securing the two guards. "Also, if we are to rest now, I would take first watch. The rest of you have had a trying day. We all have I suppose..." The knight apprentice says correcting himself upon a brief thought back, "...but seeing as I just put this armor on it would seem foolish to take it off again so soon."
Stretching with a breathy yawn Mot simply says "Aye." Rolls out his bedding, and instantly falls into a snoring slumber.
With some effort, Nme'an moves the two injured Kobolds into the corner and secures them using Beorae's rope. He then sets himself up just before the tunnel turns towards the door in order to guard the group during first watch.
The night passes uneventfully for those in the food storeroom. Even the kobold warriors, now stripped of their armor, do not stir in the dark. Beyond the door, those on watch duty occasionally hear faint sounds of the radish workers, perhaps filling storerooms nearby. After these long hours, the noises subside, and slivers of light from under the door indicate that sunrise is nigh.
Olp quietly wakes with the others, and looks over his tied up comrades. Satisfied that they are alive and on the mend, he waits for the others by the door.
When Nme'an awakes he takes time to pray for the group's continued success on their mission while quietly eating, cold breakfast. As the others are preparing for the day he checks on their two captives and gently unties them. He leaves them a single food ration to share when they awake.
Once again, the knight apprentice seeks the help of his companions to fully secure his heavier armor. Remembering the inscription on the inside of the breastplate, Nme'an brings up the issue to Themp when they both have a moment.
"You have spoken of your life on the smaller streets of Thaleniel from time to time," he says to Themp. "There is a short phrase on this armor, "Virtue is the font from which honor springs," that reminded me that an older one of my Order was known to give his time to the..." he looks for the correct common words... "children of street? Of the street," he says, correcting his grammar after the fact. "As I served mostly on the wall as my time as a guard and later was mostly in training with instructors and other apprentices I find I cannot remember his name. Might you recall it, or perhaps even have met the man? This armor was his and I would very much like to remember him properly."
Themp knows of an older knight, Sir Warrick Fern, who used his wealth to support a soup kitchen in the impoverished part of the city, where anyone, was welcomed with a bowl of hot soup and hardbread. Once a week, they would even serve venison stew, and once a month, hand out candied nuts to the beggar children. Sir Fern was often seen working in the kitchen when he was not riding in or out of the city gates on his horse with others of his Order. While Themp might not remember the exact phrase, he thinks something similar to what Nme’an said was written inside the doorway inside the mess hall of the soup kitchen.
When Themp was younger, perhaps four years ago, he remembers once instance where the old knight returned to the city to find organized criminals extorting the beggars and kitchen workers. Warrick Fern showed to the benefit of wearing metal plate that day, when he stood against six street thugs and suffered only a single scratch. It sparked a campaign to purge corruption from the Thaleniel business and judicial systems, and for quite awhile, many of Themp’s fencers had to lay low. Still, the soup kitchen stands to this day, feeding the homeless and destitute with a warm meal and a kind word.
Beorae wakes early and finds a quiet corner of the shed to do her daily meditations.
As the troupe prepares to leave, the druidess listens for activity outside.
A spasm of sincere shock and sadness takes over Themp's face.
"Sir Warrick? Sir Warrick is dead?" Sitting down as if to lessen the shock, he continues, still shell-shocked. "Sir Warrick ran our soup kitchen... The venison... Only thing I ever looked forward to as a kid... Sure, he once made all my potential buyers simply vanish from the streets. Practically broke my business, but the soup kitchen is what made us carry on our lives down there..."
Looking up to the knight, the scoundrel's face shows subtle signs of despair. "With the king ill, dying, and Sir Warrick gone, who will keep it running? If it even threatens to shut down..."
Themp suddenly springs up and readies his gear, sheer determination on his movements. "We must hurry, paladin. Let's go."
"The loss of any one of the Prince's Knights is a tragedy. Most or all of them? I do not know the word to use in Common or Elven..." Nme'an says gravely. Observing the rogue's change in demeanor he adds, "While now is not the time for far looking promises, I will do what I can to see Sir Warrick's soup kitchen does not close should the means be available."
As the others finish getting ready Nme'an moves closer to the door and listens for any trouble nearby.
"You locked the door behind us as we entered, correct?" Nme'an asks Themp, unaware of the potential trap. "Do I just pull it open... or does it need to be unlocked first? he clarifies, not wanting to nosily fumble with a locked door. "And there was something about a trap as well?"
"Yes. There's a trap that will shoot at anyone that opens the door. Let me open it"
Carefully disabling the trap he set back up, Themp lays his head on the door, listening carefully for any activity outside.
"Shall we?" he asks to his companions.