Oh right, apologies Greas and Oadir, I did overlook that.
Right as Greas manages to poke his head through one of the grates in the ceiling, the Deathclaw runs past. The thief's eyes widen and he has to duck as the creature's massive clawed foot stomps down where his head just was. The deathclaw continues running past the grate and there's a stomping of many boots and some hooves coming up behind it. It appears as if the local militia for Estr has been mobilized and is trying to herd the Deathclaw's movements. Not an easy task. The soldiers march right past the upper grate without noticing you, Greas.
Meanwhile, Sees-Death leads the other kobolds further down the sewer pipe. You reach a fork with three branches - straight, right, and left. Left is the direction the Deathclaw and the soldiers were running, but you don't know anything about that direction beyond that. Straight is the straightest path to the opposite end of the city where the Time Temple is, or so you reckon. You don't know anything about the tunnel to the right. All the tunnels look exactly the same and Garth is no help at all. Poor guy's still zonked out from Smoog's device. What do you do?
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"Kibra, Sees does NOT know where she is going and she definitely is not acting like herself right now.
Something is wrong; she should be chiding us and riding us and telling us how inadequate we all are.
I am worried that the stress of our protracted ordeal coupled with her recent separation from Tanard have caused her to regress or withdraw into herself.
Will you scout ahead down the straight center tunnel? We need to find a secure hideout. Something we can barricade, trap and defend."
-
Now to have a look at what is troubling Sees... I hope my serendipitous trip into the Mental Realm has prepped me enough to try this...
-
Smoog gently pushes a small bit of his consciousness out into the Mental Plane he had just traveled. Just enough to perceive the tubes he now knows connect every brain like an invisible spiders web.
He looks to see if any outside forces could be influencing Sees and her uncharacteristic behavior as of late...
Hegh looks up at the Tiefling with a quizzical look on his face. He tilts his head like a dog hearing a high pitched whistle.
Is this a friend?
In time perhaps.
... Very well.
Hegh smiles, head still tilted, and exhales wisps of mist. Of course. We will speak once vengeance is sated.
He turns his focus to the dark elf, while the group walks. How did you come to be captured?
"#$@&%*!"
Getting stomped on by whatever that thing was not high on the priority list. The sudden appearance did grant a plausible excuse to dig the points of his feet into Oadir's hand, which Greas makes full use of. And when he's finished his scouting and swings down using Oadir's arm...
He finds Hegh waiting, claw offered. Somehow, Hegh's always been where he was, no matter how much he tried to avoid it. And unfortunately, he had no way of evading notice this time. The cloaked face forms into a scowl, instead of the usual glare it would have at times like this.
Here we go again. Of all the kobolds...
"The same goes here. Despite the fact your pet monster nearly stepped on me while I was looking. It seems you have the entire militia here mobilised just to catch that thing." Rather than simply take the claw, he uses it to pull Hegh with him as he walks to the rest of the group, releasing once he manages some distance from Oadir. With luck, he wouldn't be overheard this time.
"I would scold you for your reckless behaviour, but it seems there are more pressing matters here. For one, that was a dragon that you left to Scoops, wasn't it? I can feel it. It's the same presence that comes from your new wings." He pays close attention to the response. After their time together, it wasn't hard to read Hegh in detail, and he needed to know if his hatc...clutchmate had gotten any ideas into his mind that may jeopardise this new opportunity. He couldn't be responsible this time, and that also meant not leaving hazardous elements unattended.
He speaks up again once he's had time to make his reading. "Once the situation is settled, I'd appreciate if you'd update me on what your own group has achieved. It seems that much has happened. I will do the same." There's a pause after he says this, as he finds himself thinking on his own actions from the raid onward. It wouldn't be so obvious to most, but to Hegh's eyes he seems...regretful. Silently, the black-scaled kobold wonders if Hegh saw him that day. He's about to ask, before he realises what he's doing and goes back to scowling. There has to be a way to deflect attention from this...ah.
Before anything else can be said, Greas's gaze meets Hegh's. "The tiefling seems to have his eye on Scoops. He was attempting to woo her as you left. Quite poorly I may add, but he was trying, and he has no intentions to stop. If you have any thoughts on the matter, you best see to them. Given how overly friendly he is, it won't be too long before he tries again, left alone. He doesn't know when his attentions are desired. Or appropriate." Greas's pace quickens, trying to get away before Hegh has an opportunity to process everything and ask questions.
When Greas reaches the rest of the group, he's passing the pen about again. It seems to have become an idle habit.
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The slightest touch of your psychic probe reveals a searing headache and an overpowering sense of insignificance. She's not just convinced she's not good with magic, she doesn't believe it exists. She's convinced the Gods, if they ever existed to begin with, have turned their backs on the world.
Physically, she's awash with hormones, and the arcane laylines of her body are crisscrossed and burnt out like they've produced more energy than she was ever meant to wield on her own. With everything going on it's a wonder she's clung to sanity this long.
Then you notice the rift, and the way her psyche is hemorrhaging out of it, and how something else is seeping in. You don't dare inspect the wound, for fear of slipping into it yourself, but something of the hole reeks of death.
Oadir doesn't do running very often, he has better means of transportation. As he sees Greas rush off with Hegh he peers forward as far as he can, decides he can go a little further than that and trust falls, but there's no one behind him.
Oadir constantly manages to overestimate his own height, as he's falling into the ground he hits his head for . That's going to hurt tomorrow, luckily nobody saw.
When he comes back up he pops out right in front of Sees . But a few inches stand between him and the Kobold, Oadir quickly moves to apologise, but all he does with that is give her more reason to be startled as this big oaf apparates in front of her and his arms snap forward.
Another slightly unhinged tittering of laughter fills the crampt space of the tunnel. Tanard is wrapped quite firmly around her shoulders with the dragon's wings hanging slightly askew over her shoulders. With her own equipment returned, she offers Oadir his shirt. "Darkness is a fickle friend, and though it heeds your call, remember it would just as well consume you, horns and all." She smiles as if the rhyme were incidental, and not the chilling warning it was.
With a childish courtesy she turns and skips toward the fork.
Kibra nods seriously when Smoog charges him with scouting ahead. He's just glad to be working among kobolds again, it seems. Putting his rat, Meep, on his shoulder, the ranger moves off down the center tunnel.
Kibra moves off in near-silence into the darkness of the center fork. With the aid of his animal companion, the kobold is at home in the sewer environment, and quickly navigates the best path.
He's gone for nearly an hour before he returns. During that time, you can hear shouts and commotion coming from the city above, but it's muffled to the point that you can't tell exactly what's going on. Only that the entire town of Estr appears to be in complete uproar. When he returns, Kibra is grinning.
The kobold had found his old ranger's kit among the supplies that he had rescued from his captivity, and he's crafted a map based on his rapid and effective scouting. It's crude, but effective.
Quickly and tersely, he points to different locations that he has marked, along with lines.
"Here, tunnel paths safe to take. Didn't mark bad ones; only distractions. We follow map. Leads to safe place." he stabs his claw at the crudely drawn house symbol. "Dry chamber. Large enough for all. Smaller tunnels that lead all over the city from what we could tell. Cut off from the flow of water." he gestures to Meep. "Then there's this over here. A place where water no longer flows, but for a very small amount. Water has collected in these pipes. Over here," he gestures to the skull icon, "Crocogators. We can avoid if we know that they are there." He points to the heart symbol. "We can find food and drinkable water here. Not far from where we camp. Relatively safe if you follow a specific path that doesn't go too near the crocogators. And here," he points to the top of the map, "A door. Appeared locked. Didn't approach it. Looked like a good place to lay traps." the trapper kobold nods wisely.
Krish walks slowly beside the others, not really sure where he will fit into the group of kobolds. And rather in awe of Tannith; the spirits have said much of him.
Kibra notices Krish looking around and raises his voice. "Shaman, what do the spirits tell you of events transpiring above? I heard sounds of chaos and disorder above me during the time I was scouting the sewer tunnels."
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"It's probably the creature Thunk and Hegh were leading about." Now was as good a time as any to inform the others what he'd seen. Saves time. "They got the militia together to try and control it, and from the sounds of it, they're still having little success. It calls attention off of us, but that won't last forever."
"Make preparations while you can." Greas comes over and starts memorising the map. He hands the pen to Kibra, pressing it into his off-hand point first. Not quite a spear, but it was as close as manageable without any issues. "See if you can figure out what this does. It's obviously magical, but I don't have the time right now to learn what it does. I expect some result."
With that said and a map committed to memory, he begins to move for the central tunnel, with his path in mind. "I intend to check the door. All who wish to follow, do so. I will return to the spot marked by the house when I'm finished." He stops a moment, then calls back. "Don't leave Scoops, the goblin, or the tiefling unattended. Scoops especially." The footsteps resume, and he leaves with as many people as decided to follow, keeping an eye out for traps and anything unstable enough to behave as one as he walks through the tunnels.
Kibra's scales turn as black as Greas' when the pen changes hands.
Kibra grabs the pen from Greas, a bit perturbed at his demand for results.
I don't know if he is still pissed about the spear or if Greas is still just a bully...
Looking at the pen intently Kibra does not notice his scales changing color.
Looks like its just a pen.
Kibra attempts to write and scribble on the other side of the map paper.
Meh, I guess I will figure this out later, we should keep moving. I fear we may be tracked into the sewers once the chaos above dies down.
Kibra begins to follow Greas. Watching him go over the door with a smoothness and finesse of an expert.
Krish smiles at Kibra, "I ask spirits what they know. Maybe we learn what soft-flesh human-things do. Maybe we break open soft-flesh-town."
Krish begins to whisper in what sounds like nonsense in rhythm with a light drumming on his small drum, Spirits of this place, spirits of the dead, spirits of the forgotten, what transpires above the ground?
Smoog urges the others to follow Kibra and Greas to this new hideout.
Along the way, he keeps an eye out inspecting the different styles of stonework hoping to determine age, use and quality.
At mention of her name, Scoops can feel eyes on her, and she freezes, hands on the long-forgotten magic music box from her pack. She's been cranking the key for a while now and, looking up, she tries to open the box to start the music.
The thief kobold named Greas approaches the large door. Studying the entryway leading into the sewers from the door that Kibra found, the black kobold first notices that there's a heat signature on the doorknob. Narrowing his eyes as he studies it, Greas sees that the red, brass, ornately-decorated knob to open the door is actually a normal bronze color normally, but is currently red because of the heat flowing through it. If you look above the doorknob you see faint "heat snakes" rising from the doorknob itself.
A false doorknob, clearly. Not something kobolds are that unfamiliar with. Greas analyzes the rest of the door carefully, and finds a small, finger-sized hole. He tugs at it with his finger and it reveals a small panel covering up a metal ring that is below the doorknob. The metal ring is cool to the touch.
You peer through the keyhole and down. Bad angle, but you can tell that there's a tripwire on the far side of the door as well. Not going to be easy to disarm that one, since the door swings open away from you, toward where the tripwire is.
Behind him, the shaman Krish is seeking counsel from the spirits. They murmur to you of blood and death and drowning. There was death down here in the sewers, and recently. The spirits of the dead are flowing down into these sewers to escape the Predator that lurks above - the Deathclaw, which is feeding on souls by the dozen in Estr.
Smoog, as you study the stonework you realize that the masonry around the door is old, quite a bit older than the surrounding masonry that forms the sewers you stand in. You can tell from the erosion and degradation that whatever put that door there did it long before the sewers of Estr were completed.
Hegh, there were 3 surviving kobolds and the drow noblewoman that escaped with you. Now that you have a chance to study them, you realize you've seen markings like what they have before. On each of the three kobolds is a yellow splotch on their scales. These are Yellowjacket Tribe kobolds, from the northlands! Estr is very, very far from their home. They've been murmuring to each other as you progress through the sewers, not volunteering much but following your lead.
Yes, you may talk to the drow noblewoman. She's been studying all of you carefully this whole time, not taking her fingers off her stiletto knives with a suspicious look in her deep-red eyes. The fact that you rescued her from slavery is likely the only thing keeping her from trying to kill you right now.
Sees, you have Tanard on your shoulder. When you reach for the music box and try to open it, the young dragon's tail comes down to press downward on the lid, keeping it shut.
You glance over at the dragon riding your shoulder, and see her staring into your eyes. The infant dragon shakes her head, slowly, side-to-side. You feel a great sense of concern enter your mind - the nubile but still potent presence of Tanard, the End of All Paths, giving you her direct attention.
Oadir, the music box very strongly resembles the one you've seen before. It's roughly the same size and shape.
The color change in your scales happens instantly, by the way, Kibra. The pen just looks like an average pen now, reverted to its normal burnished metal color.
To the drow:
You are free to leave, Drow. We are not your enemies, and would be your allies if you wish it. Is there anything that I can do for you?
To the kobolds:
You are far from home Yellowjackets. How did you come to be here in Estr?
Ooh that looks a lot like this musicbox I found earlier, I'm not quite sure as to what it does anymore but I remember my mother having one of them as well. No idea where she picked it up... As Oadir scours through his memory to think if his mother ever actually used the thing or told him what it did, his childhood is much a blur nowadays... He's just wondering what it did again...
The bard looks around at those who have not wandered off to the mystery door: Hegh, Krish, Oadir and the other rescued slaves. Most look like they could use a short rest.
Leaning from one side of Hegh to whisper in the ear on his other side, Sccops says "We have a place, high and dry, to show these meek followers succor. Let us ply them first with hospitality before we ask their favor." She ducks back to the other side before Hegh can turn, and nips him playfully in the soft spot at the base of his neck before dancing down the tunnel. She stops with a flourish of her skirts to see who else will follow.
Hegh will lead Shieldbearer after Sees-Death, gesturing for the Drow and the yellowjackets to follow.
Krish looks back up at Kibra, "Death comes to humans-town. Fear. Blood. Drowning. Death also comes to tunnels. Short-time passes since death walked tunnels. Spirits fear Spirit-Eater in humans-town. Spirits come to tunnels, too."
Oadir is following Sees vigorously, though he is lost in thought a little thinking of the music box his mother had. She might still have it, he wouldn't know. He hasn't been back to his birthplace since he was made to leave, but he feels kinda banned since his incident. He feels he needs to become more of a heroic figure before he can ever return.
Since the death of Shewa he'd also dropped out of that group and that was over a year ago now. A lot has happened since then, not all of it good. But it seems like all that is changing now, he's found a new group that might take him into their ranks. His relationship with Greas is a troubled one, he can't quite get a reading on Sees-Death, she seems to flirtatious all around to consider any real connection. She was flustered earlier but given the tells of her acting strangely all of a sudden he doesn't know what to make of her, other than a stunning creature of immense beauty.
Snap back! You need to remember what the box does...
Earlier, he had been paying more attention to the map than the individual he'd jammed a pen into the hand of. Now, it was distinctly more difficult not to notice what had happened. Kibra was the same colour as he was. For a brief moment, Greas actually displays surprise. It doesn't show for long, though. "...Well. I cannot say that I expected this. Forget what I said before. I think this is more than enough recompense over the spear...even if I do feel it's an improvement." He shrugs. "Hopefully this isn't too distressing for you. If the pen still works, we may be able to undo this."
Kibra stops receiving special attention from there. There are more important matters. The relevant details are relayed to all present, stressing how little he cares if you burn yourself and that if anyone else tries to open the door, they will suffer. Severely. No exceptions.
Another look around for anything else hidden in the area that he had missed. "We should head back. A trapped door means there's something behind it that someone wants to keep out of access. The nature of it, however, may vary. We should decide carefully whether it's worth investigation." If nobody has any comments to make, he looks over the door again to see if there's an effective way to recreate something similar to the examined setup with another door with his current supplies, and heads off to the "campsite".
When Greas threatens the group to keep them away from the door, Sees' eyes gleam with a fleeting bout of coherence. She passes her tongue over her lips, tasting the air. "Oh, don't tempt me. It's not the time or place."
Returning her eyes to the acorn in her hands, she sets the device to muffle the camp and gets it spinning on the floor, repeating the turn of phrase in a singsong voice. "Not the time or place~ Not the time or place~ a traitor to our race~ to fear the loss of face~"
If you want I could get one of my Shades to trigger the trap, wouldn't be much trouble at all really. We could all be at a fairly safe distance if you want.
With that Oadir calls forth Kreng, which shouldn't need a summon since I don't think Kreng ever went anywhere.
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Kibra now noticing his color change loses his mind.
WHAT THE HECK DID YOU DO TO ME!
Realizing he may have been to loud he quiets some.
We must find a way to get rid of this horrid color. My green is my everything. Perhaps someone in the group can help me figure this pen out.
I hope its reversible.
Watching Greas go over the door and point out the traps Kibra is impressed and appears to be taking mental notes of the tricks on display.
Agreeing with Greas that the trap door may be challenging and dangerous right now, he follows him back to camp.
Smoog, look what this wretched device has done to my scales. Can you take a look at it and help me reverse it?
Kibra hands the pen over to Smoog.
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So much has happened in the last few days, Smoog sits down in a corner of their new safe place and rewinds the action in his mind, contemplating each new companion...
-
First they saved Kibra and Krish from the Orc Slavers in the hills.
One he thought he knew well and the other poses to be an enigma.
-
I wonder if Falla ever told her brother Kibra about us?
-
Krish seems to be able to harness spirits as easily as I can harness physics. I wonder where they cross over?
-
Then the slaves from ESTR who he just now has time to fully ponder...
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Greas, why did we have to find Greas? Is his heart still as black as his scales?
-
Tessith seems wise. What tribe does he come from?
-
Oadir the Shadowcaster is half-a-deamon? I didn't think those beings could exist on our plane for very long. What holds him here?
-
and Retzack a goblin necromancer? No, he is more of a re-animator, a creepy-crawly puppet master. I must study the brain-webs he has with them.
Smoog is a little startled when Kibra's voice emanates from a black kobold form.
-
"A magic pen you say?.... Hmmm, permit me to more closely examine this contraption. Uhh huh... just as I thought. You see, the pen activates the spectral cohesion of your scales and when held in proximity elicits a subtle chroma-shifting arcwave that..."
-
"Not to worry Kibra. We can reverse this. I just need to... '
"Oadir, setting it off with a shade does not help if the trap is supposed to be an alarm. In other words, leave it alone." The shade will be stopped if it tries anything. It appears it can be called back regardless, so there isn't any issue there.
Continuing to ignore Kibra, who...may have to be subdued depending on the sequence of events, his attention goes to Smoog instead for now.
"Here." Greas hands over the shock-stick that once belonged to Arman. "Judging from your collection, you'd make better use of this than I. It delivers shocks when activated, which are non-lethal despite how painful they are. You'll probably be able to make it do something new."
He walks away, hoping to find somewhere that Hegh won't notice him. It's normally not so easy simply because he's always there, but he seems distracted by the new faces.
Actually, I've got just the guy for the job if you want to... as he dismisses Kreng and calls forth a new Shade ...let me introduce you to Knilb, it's a work-in-progress name at the moment, he should be able to jump you to the other side of the door, he's helped me out a few times already.
He can't take a hint, and from the look on his face, his eagerness is causing him to rush. I better try and salvage this before there's a chunk of sewer missing.
He does his best to direct the tiefling's attention to what he's doing, since the process has already started. He tries to minimise the venom in his voice, if only not to agitate him further. "Concentrate on what you're doing. If you rush, the Shade will probably come out as a work-in-progress as well. Caution over haste."
Scoops scoots over to where Smoog is tinkering and looks back to where Greas is giving Oadir a thorough shoosh-pap. Her expression is peeved, but still playful, eyes narrowed. "He dismisses me to present you with gifts. One of us must be mistaken. Does he have a taste for dorks, or does he take you for a maiden? Either way, it's not to late for one of us to set him straight." She pauses, considering. "Unless that's your thing... Not my business what you do in leisure. You know I've transgressed far more in search of pleasure."
"Do not get messed up with Greas.
He has never cared about anyone but himself.
Oh, who am I kidding, you two are perfect for each other.
-
As for this shock prod, you can have it if you want it.
It just might come in handy keeping all your suitors at bay."
-
Smoog's gentle heart still has as soft spot for Sees.
It never was nor probably ever would be romantic despite her physical attractiveness, but he still cared for her in a way.
He certainly would never wish her harm.
-
I am just relieved you are starting to act like your old self again.
Those grievous psychic wounds you endured will certainly need more time to heal completely but at least you seem to be on the mend.
The drow noble crosses her arms haughtily when you address her, Hegh. "I know I could leave at any time, male," she sneers. "I stay with this rabble to see what is going to happen next. I'll never reach the Underdark without a little preparation. Until those preparations are complete, I'll help you kobolds cause your mischief. These humans and others, they deserve it. I await the word to move out." With that, she stalks off to a corner and begins to practice knife-play with her stilettos, the blades flashing through the dim light of the sewer refuge.
The Yellowjacket Kobolds put their heads together a moment in conference when you ask them how they got here. "Captured," a spokeskobold speaks up. "We were...fleeing enemies, and were captured. Yes. Taken prisoner and brought here to [b]Estr two weeks ago. We've been taken to market every few days since then. There were originally 15 of us."[/b]
Sees-Death, your Bard move does apply here. The Yellowjackets were a minor tribe of kobolds that lived north of Gorlaug's mountain. You're unaware of their relationship with the All-Eater, but it's likely they didn't speak much. The Yellowjackets, you see, worshipped a wyrm, a winged cousin of a dragon with vestigial legs and yellow scales. It spat lightning and was sufficiently intimidating to develop its own kobold tribe around it. True dragons like Gorlaug tended to look down on such wyrms as being lesser than what the dragons are. As far as you know, the wyrm - named Trindag - was still at large, but if these kobolds were fleeing enemies when they got caught, that may have changed.
Oadir, the music box is a cunningly disguised magic trap. When opened, the music will put all listeners into a deep magic slumber. Then a portal will be opened using the curse on the box, bringing forth a Silent Gentleman to kill the sleepers. He can be fought off, but only if you are awake to do it.
Smoog, you discover that the pen will copy the color of whomever holds it, and will pass along that copied color to the skin of whomever picks it up next. Once the secondary effect triggers, it resets and will absorb the color of the next person to pick it up. You don't know for sure if the effects are temporary or not.
Fortunately, you do find a way to reverse the effects of the pen through careful study, but it requires some extra materials from your own supply. Mark off 1 Adventuring Gear to create the attachment, which then allows you to return Kibra to normal.
Oadir puts thoughts of the music box aside as he volunteers to help with the traps on the door. In his eagerness he reaches out to the shadow too much, and draws upon nearly all the shadows in the sewers around him. There are far more shadows here than there were in the slave pavilion, and they jump to aid you. It's only when Greas tries to steady you with his voice that you calm down a little. However, the teleporting shade you summoned had been very angry with your attempt to subdue it. You lose 1 Control over your summon, and the shadow tugs at your soul, granting you a -1 forward to Channeling to summon forth elementals. Now, if you want to use your shade magic to move through walls by teleporting, you may, although teleporting without being able to see where you are going can be risky.
Krish approaches Tannith removing the strange, new mask from his face, "You are Tannith. Spirits know of you, Tannith. Spirits tell me big-things about you. Perhaps Tannith can say what mask is, where mask from?" Krish holds out the mask that he had taken from Arman's tent.
Sorry Greas, you are right, I should calm down. Oadir turns to Knilb, who's half embedded in a pool of darkness leering back. I'm sorry to you too, could you safely get to the other side of a trapped door for us? We need to know what's on the opposite end, you'd need to communicate the details with this fellow here but we would greatly appreciate it if you could help us pass by undetected and unharmed.
As for the box, in all the chaos it finally popped into my head what it does... It's a very good thing you didn't get to open it. Oadir leans in to whisper to Sees
So, Greas, as the expert, what say you? Now what do we do?
Thunk meanwhile takes a moment to sleep.
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Retzack had stewed in a mired miasma since fleeing the town. He had considered the amalgamation his magnum opus, and sacrificing it to cover his escape was a crushing blow. Necessary, yes. But crushing.
He wafted about the party, listening to their plans, and, now, as they are stymied almost completely at a door trap.
He held his peace as the Spiritcrafter worked his art, but even the most skilled hand can be shaken.
And, all but unnoticed, he grabs the gist of what the box contains.
A plan forms.
Nodding his head at some internal turmoil, he uncorked a bottle and spoke up, possibly startling those that had thought him worthy of being overlooked.
"A door, A trap,
This will take some moxy.
Or we could use a hand undead,
and open it by proxy.
A box, a trap,
A killer thinks he's foxy.
Let us make the hunter hunted,
and open it by proxy."
He shares a smile with Smoog and Sees, as if laughing inwardly at some inside joke.
He uncorks the slaver's wife and bids her to take up action. But this time roles are...a bit reversed.
"...at least you listened to me for once. In future, when I say not to do something, don't do it anyway unless you have a VERY. Good reason. If this thing can take me to the other side, that is useful, but volunteer the information instead of trying to summon it without warning in future." He's definitely not happy, but relief at being alive after that is keeping him from being too nasty.
"There are two sets of decisions to make. The first is whether we continue operations or rest. I'm inclined to the latter, as is Thunk it appears. We would do well to enact security measures before we rest. The other is if we investigate the door. The fact that it was trapped makes it highly likely that there is something of interest behind it, and I would rather know if there is an access point there for our aggressors. But there are other things on the agenda, so I can't decide that." And with Retzack's words, a glare in his direction, spite covering fear. "AND NOR SHOULD YOU. If that door should be alarmed, you would invite far more trouble than that door is worth. I told the tiefling. Now I tell you."
Greas looks around the room, keeping as close an eye as nerves permit on Retzack. That goblin was the worst thing here. As for the others, his ears brought him what he needed to know.
Of everyone I knew before, only Hegh does not seem to resent me somewhat. The others...aren't as relieved to see me now as I am them. I probably earned this. It won't be easy to fix. But I must. Otherwise...I'll be back where I was. No tribe. No dragon. And even worse than I am now. I can't let that happen. Being driven out would be worse than my flight. So, so much worse.
Why am I thinking like this...? This unlike me. I'm...probably tired from what has happened. That'll be it. Must be.
Now that he'd had them, his thoughts weighed upon him. But he couldn't show that. So he continued to speak, trying to sound as he would normally. "This decision should come from all, not one. You know my thoughts. If we are to deal with the door, do not do it without me. Kibra...do as you will with that device. Regardless of my colour as I wake, I owe you a debt. If I am needed, you will find me setting up a perimeter." He hoped his weariness didn't show as he left.
Almost sulking in his own fashion, he set up tripwires, one down a bit from either side of the camp's entrance. The making of traps was a craft that he could focus on entirely. A craft that he had been perfecting for so long. One that he was focused on so much as to silence his mind. When the tripwires were triggered, they'd ignite a crude blasting powder that he'd acquired. It was useless for causing damage, but it was very, very loud. Perfect for warnings - and waking things, if needs be. They would be safe at camp. He'd make sure of it.
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As the Dead Movers set up shop in the deceased woman's corpse, the body rises, the sound of bones scraping hellishly within their sockets and tendons snapping and popping echo loudly in the enclosed space.
As the corpse becomes fully erect, it's heads lolls about and it's un-gaze seems to settle firmly on Greas. The muscles that make up the face are consumed and re-purposed, and the lips are pulled back revealing still-sort-of-white teeth. It appears to be grinning broadly, and unwaveringly.
Retzack seems locked in concentration, so it's hard to tell if the zombie's actions are purposeful or accidental.
Hegh watches Greas with interest as the black kobold putters around the camp, attaching wires to various places. Hegh had never shown much interest in traps, but it was still in his blood. So when he saw a trip wire a tad too high off the ground, he approached Greas and slapped him on the back. Even a long leg could see that trip wire from a mile away!
Satisfied, Hegh cautiously approaches the tall tiefling. He glances briefly at Sees. I wonder if half kobold half tiefling hatchlings would grow into strong warriors. Something to consider ...
My power was a gift from Gorlaug, and has been strengthened by Tanard. I cannot explain. Let me show you.
Before Oadir can react, Hegh draws his sword across his left arm, spurting Oadir with drops of ice cold blood.
As Oadir finds himself with a near overwhelming desire to hurt someone, Hegh speaks. Some pay a greater price. Resist.