"If the Kobold are to require a... gift... twice as large for our return journey then perhaps all thing we find should be put to that sum?" Nme'an asks the others.
“Isn't that what I said just a minute ago?” Beorae asks chidingly. “And I'm fine with waiting, but let's get on our way once he's done. It will be good to get out of this pass.”
“And if nobody minds, I'll hold onto these potions for now and we can distribute them later.” Beorae places the vials in her pack, along with three hand-sized chitin plates from the scorpion.
"Is it? My apologies, Bi Sevenstone. Though, perhaps that is why it sounded like such a good idea to me... as well," Nme'an responds.
Mot shifts uneasily and paces the around the cave while they wait. Nearly fifteen minutes after the two elves spoke his face scrunches up in concentration and he speaks. "Ah dinnae want tae gev them moore..." He looks up at the ceiling, just a few short inches away, in some form of consternation. "Wea may nae even coome back thes way!"
The shaggy head comes back down as the musical highlander looks at the rest of the party earnestly. "Why nott waet tae boorn tha bredg when wea get ta ae?"
Nme'an notices Olp's troubles and walks over to help. "Dreh nii med daar," he suggests while mimicking the proper motions with his hands.
The kobold warrior follows the knight’s advice, and over time seems satisfied with his progress. After an hour and a half, he returns the dagger and makes a few practice jabs with his spear. Gleaming a draconic grin, he indicates that he is ready to go. He straps the banner pole to his back, and carries the polearm like a walking stick.
Beorae also stores the two semiprecious stones in her pack in case they may have some value later on.
Mot wanders around scooping up gear and strapping armor to himself. The suits are obviously fitted for smaller people as they don't have any hope of actually being worn by the hulking Highlander. But he straps them on nonetheless, wearing chest-pieces like sleeves over his typically bare biceps.
While Olp sharpens his makeshift spear with Nme'an's guidance, Themp tries in vain to shape up arrows.
Guess I need a bit more practice... I should try this more often. My arrows are going out like gentlemen in a bar fight...
The four Thaleniel champions press on for another hour before seeing any other living creature. This time, battlements carved high into to the rock face protect handfuls of kobolds. Shaded by a stone overhang, these warriors do not bother hiding from their position. The spears in their claws are not held aggressively, and they silently glare down at the unwelcome travelers and the traitor in tow. Six battlements, three on each side a few hundred feet apart, the Thaleniel heroes pass, and the watchers in each one take no hostile action.
Finally, the uneasy tension is left behind by the humans and half-elves, and an observant eye would notice the peepholes dotting in the rock walls are fewer and fewer. Moreover, the scant underbrush of the ravine grows thicker and greener as the five proceed. Two hours after leaving the scorpion caves, the adventurers can smell water in the air.
As they round bend after bend, Shark quite suddenly begins acting oddly. He stops, and while the others continue stepping forward, he pads back and forth but does not follow. The big grey cat does not want to proceed.
Shark smells something he really doesn’t like.
Mot shifts uneasily on his feet as his own hackles rise. He idly begins spinning his spear haft in hand while he scans the landscape ahead, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"Something in the air? Noxious fumes perhaps?" Nme'an asks Beorae. Considering things for a moment Nme'an addresses the group: "Part of our knights training was breathing control to lessen the effects of smoke, fumes, and... decay... so as to remain at peak performance during a battle. If you would allow me to, I would like to scout ahead alone for a moment to be sure nothing is too far amiss..."
The odd behavior awakens Beorae's senses and she scans the area for trouble “Possibly… I wouldn't get too far separated, though,” she says in response to Nme'an's question.
"The big cat certainly does seem agitated by the smell...
For a moment, Themp's sharp ears catch the echo of a hushed conversation, further up ahead. Two voices, then one of them suddenly shushes the other. While the next bend is still a stone’s throw away, he does not think the speakers are waiting behind the corner. They sound a bit further back.
For a moment, Nme’an’s elven ears catch the echo of a hushed conversation, further up ahead. Two voices, then one of them suddenly shushes the other. While the next bend is still a stone’s throw away, he does not think the speakers are waiting behind the corner. They sound a bit further back.
For a moment, Beorae’s elven ears catch the echo of a hushed conversation, further up ahead. Two voices, then one of them suddenly shushes the other. While the next bend is still a stone’s throw away, she does not think the speakers are waiting behind the corner. They sound a bit further back.
The druidess also catches a faint whiff of an unpleasant, bitter and sour odor. Unlike decay, this smell seems akin to a body odor, or a strong scent given off by some wild animal.
For a moment, Mot’s suspicious ears catch the echo of a hushed conversation, further up ahead. Two voices, then one of them suddenly shushes the other. While the next bend is still a stone’s throw away, he does not think the speakers are waiting behind the corner. They sound a bit further back.
The wild man catches a faint whiff of an unpleasant, bitter and sour odor. Unlike decay, this smell seems akin to a body odor, or a strong scent given off by some wild animal.
Shark nuzzles his big furry head against the druidess and follows, albeit reluctantly at first.
The Highlander takes a big whiff of the air, trying to remember if he'd ever smelt that particular scent before.
Beorae keeps one hand on Shark's head while she sniffs the air cautiously, trying to place the unknown scent.
The highlander remembers one particular excursion from his youth. He accompanied several other clansmen into the Bloomrot Marshes, and happened across some lizardmen who stank to high heaven. In fact, one of the clansmen lost his lunch when they got too close. This smell currently in Mot’s nose is similar to the stench of their lair. They are primitive, savage creatures, capable of wielding clubs and spears, and using language, but little more than that. The lizardfolk stand as tall as a normal man, and have claws and sharp teeth when crude weapons might fail them.
The druidess recalls a lesson from her teacher, on the different types of reptiles native to Vyren. One of the creatures on the decline were lizardfolk who stood as tall as men, and could wield crude, simple weapons. Living in fecund caves and hovels, adding their own strong pheromones to the stench, these savage reptilian people are known as troglodytes. The smell emitted by the foul creatures can turn the stomach of any man or beast that isn’t one of them. It is said that the deepest troglodyte caves hint that this simple, primordial kind were once a very capable and advanced society, that has since degenerated to isolated pockets of tribes spread over the dank corners of the world.
“Not smell any thing…”
Olp looks around obliviously, turning an uncertain gaze up the ravine was in fear of a trap.
Mot spits into the dirt with disgust. "Lizardmehn." He says as he tightens his grip on his spear. "Savaage ahn fooul theh are."
"Kobold? Why are we worried? Aren't they supposed to respect the flag here?"
The Highlander grimaces, "Nae Kooboold. Lizardmehn." He sniffs the air again and nods in assurance. "Aye, biggar, meanar, smellyar."
Shifting uneasily, Themp exclaims in understanding. "Ah. I see. Do they know we're here? Do they speak Common? Or draconic at least?"
Mot's ears twitch involuntarily. "Heerd thehm talken soomthan..." He says quietly. Crouching slightly he squints into the underbrush. "Ah thenk theh knoo weh're hear."
"You know of these creatures? Are they anything we cannot handle?" Nme'an asks Mot.
"Aye, ah saw thehm oonce as ae lahd." His grin turns ugly. "Wea caan taek thehm."
“Troglodytes, actually,” Beorae says with one more cautious sniff of the air. The sour stench makes her face scrunch up for a moment before she continues, “But most people just call them 'lizardfolk.' They're a race in decline, if I remember correctly. Their weapons are simple at best, so I don't expect that they should be much of a problem. I don't know what language they speak, but I wonder if we can trade some of the gear we found earlier for information about the land up here…”
The kobold shakes his head. “Troglodytes? I hear of them. Disgrace to dragon tongue that they know. Not dragon kind. Lizard. Dumb and dirty.”
He gestures against the druidess’ suggestion of trade. “Too dumb. They eat you. Troglodyte stronger to kobold, but is not clever very. And not blood of dragon. Animal with stick.” Olp adds matter-of-factly.
Beorae is taken aback when Olp says 'They eat you.'
“Well, then… I guess that settles that.” The druidess retrieves her sling and loads a bullet.
Nme'an nods, readies his sword and shield, and begins slowly advancing.
"Let us take a peek then, shall we?."
Themp nocks an arrow and slowly advances, half-crouched.
Since the group began to speak, Beorae thinks she heard movement closer to the corner just ahead.
The thief creeps forward, using the thick foliage as cover for his advance. He stops when he sees two big lizards, the size of men, standing in the middle of the ravine. They appear to be awaiting, probably listening to the talk of the Thaleniels and the clanks of Nme’an’s approaching armor.
Still, two hold wooden clubs at the ready, and it does not appear that they have noticed Themp. The lizards-in-waiting wear no armor, and are covered in dull grey scales. A ragged cloth satchel hangs from their shoulders, holding a few throwing spears.
Beorae tries to quietly move up the ravine toward Themp.
Noticing the others moving quietly past him, Nme'an holds position in an effort to keep the element of surprise.
Finally seeing the lizardmen at the distance, Themp puts on his eyepiece and takes careful aim.
Seeing the thief pause and scan ahead, Mot crouches through the low foliage and begins moving to help flank whatever lies ahead.
The two muscular lizardfolk tense when the heavy armor stops clinking. By the way they snap their eyes about, it is plain that they do not see the thief or the Casns stalk closer. Likewise, the big grey tiger and the druidess pad closer in silence.
Sharp ears here the bow twang before he spots the arrow flying through the air. With a grim chuckle the Casns stands to his full height and hurls his spear at the unharmed Lizardfolk.
The druidess stows her sling and instead draws the Wand of Flare they found the previous day.
Seeing as the lizardmen are still unaware of their presence, Nme'an takes the opportunity to advance on them further.
An arrow pierces the bare chest of the nearest standing troglodyte, and he roars in pain. The other ducks Mot’s spear with ease. The one hit with the arrow and points to Themp’s position. “Til!”
The two of them tighten the grips on their clubs when the knight and wild man come into view.
“There!”
Spotting the Troglodytes, Nme'an breaks into a run, charging the nearest one!
for:
"Mu nunon pruzaan faal Kobold undin mii ful pruzah tol mu treymoz niin ahst niist horvutah ahrk fus niin wah vos mii wah paagol zeim hef niist himdah ko drem. Til los nid ven mu sein tum fah med do hi. Bovul nu waan hi hind wah dein hin lahney." The Paladin boasts loudly as he sword connects with the nearest Troglodyte
Beorae and Shark move forward behind Nme'an, rounding the corner in time to see the brutal sword attack. Stepping just into range, Beorae holds the new wand up, expecting a bright point of light to stream toward the lizardman in the back, but to her surprise nothing happens! She glares at the wooden stick and tries again, but still no effect, not even a fizzle. “ขยะลับซ!” she swears under her breath, tossing the wand aside.
Mot sprints towards the foes drawing his heavy blade and slashing at the still-standing enemy.
As Nme'an charges the offending (I think) big lizard, Themp slowly moves forward and turns his body slightly to the left, aiming at the troglodyte further away.
"Yeah, well, you're all ugly too." he whispers under his breath as he lets the arrow fly.
Olp sees those around him rush into battle and follows, brandishing his longspear.
The knight runs the troglodyte through, and Mot reaches the one that dodged his spear. A quick slice, followed by a well-placed shot from Themp, and both lizardmen fall to the ground. As the big grey tiger reaches the corner, he suddenly snaps his gaze to the underbrush across the opening.
At the words of the paladin, three javelins fly from the underbrush. “Tolro kendaar! Krii mok!” one of them cries. From where the thrown spears are launched, three more troglodytes stand, brandishing clubs.
“That’s the knight! Kill him!”
The javelin’s clatter against the half-elf’s heavy plate armor. However, as the troglodyte nearest Mot rises, Olp sees an opening and takes it! “Hahlornu sliin ahpaan!”
But the troglodyte towers over the kobold and gleams a hungry, sharp-toothed grin. “Kenvu eytik!”
“Brainless meat bag!”
“Tasteless snack!”
Beorae feels her stomach turn at the incredible stench of the troglodytes, and it's everything she can do to keep from throwing up. The terrible whiny growl that Shark makes suggests that he's feeling the same thing.
Seeing the hostile creatures in the brush, Beorae directs Shark to attack them.
Meanwhile, the druidess unbuckles her shield and swings it forward, following Shark into battle. As she advances on the creatures, she lashes out her hand and calls, “Ferro ignique!” Suddenly, a sword of flame erupts from the druidess' hand, hilt in her grip and flames licking at the foul air. .
Nme'an nearly gags as his blade cuts down the first of the lizardmen. "Careful, they smell worse on the inside!" he warns before hurrying to prevent the west most troglodyte from having any chance to flank his companions.
for
Not realizing Beorae and Shark are having trouble staying close to the lizardmen, Themp aims at the furthest one he can see.
Mot is surprised at the unseen enemies popping from the woodwork. The yelling in strange tongues confuses him further and starts his blood boiling when all the sudden the full scent of the Troglodytes hit him.
Even the typically unwashed bardbarian knows true stink when he smells it. Taking a heavy step forward he leers at the nearest Lizardman and screams; "Yoo need ae baath!" while pointing ferociously at the offender.
Much to his shock and horror strange tendrils of amber light form around his outstretched hand and quickly form a bridge between the Highlander and Troglodyte. Once wrapped around his foe the strange light begins to...
...scrub him?