Oadir follows suit with Greas, so yeah, that's where Oadir is at this time,
Looking back and seeing Thunk has not caught up, Oadir says: Should we wait for Thunk?
Oadir rubs his hands together, breathing warm air into them, all it's doing is creating a little fog over his hands.
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Hegh looks as if he wants to respond to Sees, but he bites his tongue (literally), and jogs off after Greas and Oadir.
A Song of Ice and Shadows:
He runs up to Oadir.
Thunk isn't coming.
He stands impatiently looking at Greas and the door. What are we waiting for?
"You learn fast. Scoops would likely not be happy if you brought such semantics to her attention, should she learn later, but as of now she is in no place to object. Just use what would be most effective, and maintain a low profile. We don't know what we're dealing with.
Greas is wearing the grin he had when made the bomb comment before, albeit less malicious. It seems your life just got a little bit easier.
Greas turns to find Hegh approaching. He didn't know if this was a change of plans, or if Hegh was just THAT determined to keep an eye on him. Either way, this was an opportunity. "It would depend if there was anyone we were to wait upon, but I see your point. We have business to attend to. To make you fully aware..." Greas quickly elaborates on the safe operation of the door once more. "...so don't do anything stupid. If you two have any idea how that rune is triggered, let me know so I can use it in future. Now, Oadir. Let's get to work. Look through the keyhole, and take us beyond the reach of the tripwire.
Once they got past, all that was left was to get to work.
I've got to get a new guy out for this, preferably a blinkey one... Let's see...Any thoughts on Ice elementals, Hegh?
Oadir rubs his hands together quickly, but they turn cold instead of warm.
The new elemental pops out and I show it where to go through the keyhole, I'll ask it to take both me and Greas if it can.
Assuming we get to the other side okay, Greas does his thing.
As the process starts, Greas knows something is going horribly, horribly wrong. It feels like the temperature has dropped significantly around him, and that there's a surge of extra power that does not belong.
There's barely a moment to look to Hegh with genuine shock on his face before the consequences set in. At least the rest of the group were safe from this.
Kibra looks to Hegh, Pork and Krish, studying them for a moment... watching the way the step and move their bodies.
Alright scout team, lets move out, we are tasked to report on what is going on up top. I think it would be best if we head back to the grated exit of the sewers that you flew out of, Hegh.
As Kibra moves with the scout group he crouches, diminishing his size to roughly half his full standing size. As observed he moves like a gecko, smoothly darting from one space to another, taking a moment to watch and darting again.
Kibra looks back to the group before moving out of sight.
Let us move, time is against us... Keep your footsteps light and reduce your silhouette. Keep your outline against a backdrop and try to blend. Always anticipate someone turning around that next corner.
Okay, Oadir and Greas, here's the good news; you get XP. You also get to the other side of the door, and the tripwire (thanks to Greas' efforts, once you get to the other side) has been disabled safely.
Bad news is, you get Splinched. Roll a 1d4 and then check the spoiler. Body parts that get Splinched are left behind when you teleport, and fall to the ground as soon as your body is no longer holding it up.
1: You teleport through the door with the elemental, but you lose the pinkie and ring finger of one of your hands. Roll 1d2 to randomly choose which one, 1 for left and 2 for right.
2: You teleport through the door with your elemental, but you're either missing an eye or an ear. Roll 2d2. The first die will decide whether it's an eye or ear that you lose, 1 for eye and 2 for ear. The second die will determine whether it's your left or right ear or eye - 1 for left and 2 for right.
3: You teleport through the door but you leave patches of skin behind. You're more vulnerable to exposure to the elements, and your appearance changes dramatically.
4: You teleport through the door, but your soul is partially left behind on the Plane of Shadow. You can no longer take any violent actions while fully bathed in light, until your next rest.
The process complete, the door is safely opened, without any traps being triggered. You find yourselves peering at a staircase that leads upward. It appears that this ornate door guarded a path to the surface. You climb upward for a few flights that meander back and forth until you reach a rough-looking wooden door. On the far side of the door, you can hear screams and, further off in the distance, a distinctively angry roaring howl. You also hear whimpering, far closer by. It sounds like it's coming from a male voice, inside the room that is on the far side of this rough wooden door. What do you do?
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Down in the sewers below, Smoog the tinker is attempting his most audacious use of an invention yet. Before he can remote-view his way to the surface, however, the human guard that Smoog had possessed, Garth, sees that he is taking the instrument out again.
The sight of the tool seems to shake the human free of his mental fugue that he had been stuck in overnight. He approaches you with an angry look in his face. "Hey, you're doing that mind-invading-thingie again, aren't you?" he demands, his voice sounding simultaneously dull and accusatory. He points a finger at you. "Stop that!" What do you do?
Strange. They got past. But something was obviously wrong. And as he started to work on the tripwire, Greas noticed what. And it hurt so, so much. It wasn't enough to stop him doing his work, but it would be problematic.
Cursing under his breath repeatedly, he disarmed the tripwire, opened the door, and searched until his found his missing fingers. He pressed them onto their bleeding stumps on the chance that they'd magically mend themselves as they had removed themselves, but that only got blood on them.
When he looked up, he was issuing a harsh glare to all present. It was noted that Oadir seemed to have had his left eye suffer the same effect. "Nobody speaks of this. Refrain from telling Scoops of anything for the time being. And as much as I hate saying it, we can get the goblin's assistance with this later. We keep moving for now." His gaze turned to Oadir. It very clearly stated displeasure. "Until you have your new element under control, refrain from using it. Unknown powers are not to be wielded lightly."
Atop the stairs, he signalled for silence and pressed his ear to the door. From the sounds of beautiful chaos he heard, they had found a valuable target. His voice came out only as loud as to be heard, and nothing more. "It seems we found what Krish is looking for. If it can be heard through this, it can't be far. Hegh, you'll be fastest with those wings. Alert Krish and bring him here. We'll wait."
Krish smiled at the carved horn and reached out a hand to run his fingers across it. The tingle of its unmistakeable power rushed up his arm and he opened his mouth to speak before his head whipped around in the direction that Greas, Oadir, and Hegh had gone. His voice is tight with alarm, "What?! Greas has been injured! They are in danger!" Krish turns toward that passage and cocks his head, "They are still fairly close."
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After retrieving the Shock Stick from his pile of gear, Smoog calmly walks over to Garth and shocks him until he is unconscious.
He then walks back to where he had been sitting and proceeds with his previous mission.
Hegh bends down and picks up a solitary eyeball that sits where his friend Greas was just standing. Upon close inspection he determines that it doesn't belong to Greas. As he waits for the door to open, he wraps the eyeball in a piece of cloth and pockets it. He leaves the fingers alone.
As the door opens, Greas finds Hegh standing over the fingers. Forget something?
He watches Greas' attempt to meld his fingers back together. I don't think that is going to work.
He then follows the pair to the top of the stairs and listens closely.
Krish, I thought I addressed your DR question, but I looked back and checked and found that I hadn't. You feel the presence of the slain spirits of the townsfolk of Estr, guiding you toward the object of their vengeance. On the other side of this rough wooden door and far beyond is your target. You will be guided unerringly to the Deathclaw's location.
bzzt, bzzt. Unfortunately, the shock stick that you jabbed Garth with, Smoog, appears to have done minimum damage. He jumps as he's shocked and shouts in pain, but doesn't appear incapacitated. Retaliating quickly, the human clobbers you in the eye with an unarmed right hook, making your head spin a little. Take 1d6 damage.
He's about to act again when a stiletto knife is suddenly pressed against his throat, hard enough to draw blood. The guard gulps, and looks to his left, over and behind his left shoulder. The drow noble is there, smiling wickedly, having seized the opportunity to inflict pain and death on an acceptable target. You get the strong sensation that she's about to slit the human's throat, Smoog. If you want to stop her, you have to act fast - if not, do nothing.
Hegh, meanwhile, presses his ear tight to the wooden door. The roar is unmistakable - the Deathclaw is not far from here, and it sounds like it's fighting something. Do you listen to Greas and go to fetch Krish?
Yes, Hegh heads straight to Krish and informs the surrounding kobolds of the discovery.
Understandable.
Krish, Greas, Oadir, and Kibra have joined you on the staircase, against the rough wooden door.
Sees-Death, Smoog, Retzack, Tessith, Tanard, Hundred-Claws (Pork's monk) and the other yellowjacket kobolds, the drow noblewoman, and Garth the human guard mind-slave are down in the safe zone, after their own pursuits.
Also, Smoog, I didn't factor in your +3 to your attack roll because the shockstick is just a weapon at this point. If you tinker with it further and make modifications, I could see switching its classification to a gadget. It certainly has the potential.
That's right, I knew I was forgetting someone. Sorry Thunk! You are indeed with the expedition group, after Sees-Death charged you personally with Krish's protection.
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Smoog stares into Garth's eyes as the blood pours from his neck and the life leaves his body.
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I never promised to save you.
I only said I wouldn't leave you a vegetable.
-
When the black-skinned beauty releases Garth's lifeless body, Smoog nods at her in approval and returns to his mapping endeavor.
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"Hmph. Greas sounds satisfied as Hegh approaches with Krish. "Appreciated, Hegh. Now, we have a Deathclaw to bend to our will. Once we are on our way, I don't feel we need worry about knowing where to go, but the path we take will be important. So, a quick plan of action."
"Krish can provide direction." He didn't know why he was so certain of this, but he trusted this feeling. "Kibra and I will be able to discern the path forward that brings the least attention to us. Hegh, you have the option to either sneak with us, or use your wings to ride their ceilings. There's less to conceal you, but most never look up except for the sky, and you'd more easily find and subdue any prying eyes lurking at any height. Oadir, your elementals can provide distraction, and if absolutely necessary, we can attempt a teleport again. There's more to say about our capabilities, but this would be the basic outline currently. The chaos from our quarry will work to our advantage."
"However." He retrieves his knife, and points it at the door. "We still have to deal with the cowering piglet on the opposite side. It sounds like they are alone, but we can't get sloppy. I suggest Krish immobilise him like he did with the cavalry. After that, we kill him and move on unless given good reason not to. If there's anything to say, be quick." The cloak flares slightly as Greas turns to check over the door. The Law of Arrogance would state that the pigskins thought that the previous trapped door was enough, but not all of them were THAT foolish.
Thunk steps up and hefts his club.
Sneak spring trap. Hegh open door. Thunk thump. Krish rule dark thing.
Thunk explains to Greas.
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Sees-Death approaches the Yellowjackets with a cask of orcish ale under her arm. There are a number of mismatched drinking cups in her hands. She keeps an eye on Smoog’s antics, but seems to ignore the goblin and his thundering servitor whom she tasked with shadowing her. She reaches the clustered clan remnants, and sets down the cask, tapping it and pouring out a cup for each Kobold present. Then, she pours one more for herself before settling onto cask.
“I have a theory,” she begins. “It came to me some nights past, and I’ve spent a little time considering it. See, for the longest time I have been under the impression that my role in this growing clan has been purely administrative. I make the plans, I sound the horn, men die to preserve the bloodline. -well, no one has died yet, not entirely.”
She finishes the first cup of ale and pours a second. “I’m not so sure anymore. I have a talent for words, as you may have noticed, and this morning I suffered under my own compulsion. Truths were spoken that would not otherwise have come to light.”
The Dragontongued eyes the Yellowjacket clan members over her cup as she finishes the second draught. “I can see I have lost a few of you. It’s not terribly relevant. Only understand that I apologize for what I am about to do. It is an intrusion, but it is necessary. My name is Sees-Death, Daughter of Moontower Mountain, Dirge of Gorlaug, Herald of Tanard, Broodmother to the Lost Spawn of Ararat. A Dragonborn by the name of Emanuel has been slaying dragons. My company, the fledgling clan of Tanard the white, intend to slay him and his cohorts. What we lack in cohesion, we make up for in our talents.”
For the first time, Sees-Death watches as the threads of her glamour are woven over the area. Of course, it could just as easily be a hallucination brought on by the drink, but she’s growing accustomed to the relationship between magic and madness. The truth and vulnerability in her own words gathers the warp and weft of the air itself and spins gossamer threads of compulsion. For all of her life, Sees had watched the courtiers speak the words and intone an air of authority, and she never suspected that the truths extracted had been coerced free by external forces.
To the gathered Yellowjacket, she asks: “What are you really feeling right now? What do you most desire? What do you wish I would do?” The three questions were one inquiry, but etiquette dictated that they were asked in turn. Any one of those questions could be turned aside by surface thoughts, but between the three, she could trust the answers to be whole. She could simply ask how she could get them to serve her, but she wanted these Kobolds’ trust.
Sees watched how the words twisted the threads. There were other questions, which she had used before, but she could see the potential of this use of diplomacy was not being pushed to its full potential. Tucking those thoughts away, she awaited the answers, and any questions she may be compelled to answer herself. She hoped she had paid it forward with her introduction, but she could not underestimate these newcomers.
• Whom do you serve?
• What do you wish I would do?
• How can I get you to ______?
• What are you really feeling right now?
• What do you most desire?
Greas doesn't stop working, but still acknowledges Thunk. "I had forgotten you were present. I suppose this opens up our options somewhat. Don't make your presence known before you must. Not all of us are so destructive in an open confrontation, and there are too many guards to take on in a straight fight." Now, how to keep him...oh, wait. He mentioned that those gloves silenced him, didn't he? "Listen. As long as you follow the direction of Me or Kibra, nobody will notice you. As long as nobody notices you, you can Thump them any way you like. There isn't always a good time to Thump. But you will Thump more freely overall if you listen to us. And that would be good, would it not?" Hopefully, this was enough to persuade him.
There's a brief pause. Presumably, he was Sneak. "Also, it's...'foil', trap. 'Spring' trap is what happens when you don't foil it, and it's bad. But otherwise, yes, paint the thing's insides across the nearest wall."
With him around, it might be possible to take out a wall before being forced to attempt teleportation. If they were lucky, the gloves would silence that too.
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I will follow you at a slight distance, and take to the skies if necessary.
He thinks back to Sees' admonition about open flight. Arrows do not concern me. He sounds like he is lying.
So.. ehm.. not to be negative but I'm a bit clumsy under normal circumstances, and that's when I have both eyes on me. I seem to have displaced one, making depth perception... difficult to say the least. Oadir sighs
If I'm to come along I'm going to have to have someone help me move around so as I don't walk into something I thought was further away. Now if I had the guts to summon an elemental right now I'd get them to help me, but I'd need someone's approval.
+2d4 damage: Smoog, Kibra, Tesseth, Greas
+2 When Aided: Smoog, Kibra, Tesseth
Hegh takes a moment to consider the tiefling.
This one is an odd one. At turns timid and reckless. Is he worth the trouble?
He is.
Summon your pet, but be quick about it.
He turns to Greas. Lead the way.
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Hundred-Claws nodded his thanks as he took the offered cup of Orcish ale. Though he did not normally partake in the drinking of spirits, he did not wish to appear rude. He sipped the cup as he listened to the female Kobolds words, curious as to what it is she wanted. He had remained silent this, content to let the other two Kobolds of his tribe speak for him. It seemed that he always found himself protecting members of his tribe as of late, and it left him physically and mentally exhausted. His mind wandered as the female droned on, pondering the events that had lead him to be here.
If only Trindag had not found the evil ones...
He remembered fighting that dark day, his entire Tribe had gone forth to face the enemy, Trindag at the head. Yet, for all their numbers, the Tribe was broken, scattered like leaves in the wind. He had done his best to protect the survivors of his tribe, those he could find at least, but he had been overwhelmed and captured. His mind returned the present, and he chastised himself for loosing focus. The fact that his mind had wandered was further proof of the trials he had endured to this point, for those who walked the Path sought focus and stillness, living moment to moment, every thought focused on the task at hand. He inhaled slowly, closing his eyes as he focused himself once again at the matter at hand. He listened as the Kobold introduced herself, and suddenly he felt a strange compulsion to answer her questions, strange considering he hardly chose to speak at all.
Feeling? I have seen my Great One fall, and my Tribe broken, and those I could find taken into slavery. I feel tired.. more so then I have ever been. Few Kobolds choose to walk the path, and fewer understand what we desire...for how can such a thing be described? I seek to be as the Great Ones, and serve as best I am able. To live life in every breath, and a stillness of the mind. I wish to know what you want from us, Herald of Tanard. You have given us freedom, and for that I am grateful. I am tired, and we are far from home, and have no desire to waste words.
Thunk shrugs at both Greas and Oadir
If you bring friend to thump with that good. Thunk can make all want thump him, but when try Thunk thump like no one ever thump!
He says.
Why foil or spring? Maybe thump? He hefts his club again.
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Retzack had been monitoring the final details of his latest charge, ensuring that the worker-bugs whose duty it was to reduce, transport, and store fresh flesh were doing a good job of it. Of course they were, because they were one of his first creations, but mutations can set in, so it never hurt to watch.
He drifted back in the direction of Sees and her interrogation/parley of the Yellowjackets. Or whatever they were called. Most non-goblins looked alike to him.
Then one of them, a male and a fighter by his looks, tells of a lost tribe. Such words strike a chord within Retzack, and he feels moved to answer them, so he speaks directly to Hundred-Claws.
"Then we are kindred souls, warrior. I too have lost my liege lord. The great Meatsnacks he was called, and, after expanding his kingdom, a metal-clad human army descended upon our tribe and they all--each and every one--were lost.
To my knowledge, I alone survived, and only by living off the fat of my intellect was I able to rekindle my tribe, as a flame might grow from an ember. Though, as you can see, even now I have them not.
So give thy heart nourishment, for at least you are surrounded by thy brethern and kin. I have seen enough to know that Great Ones may come and go, but to thine own self be true, for family is harder to replace than the mightiest of leaders.
I am called Retzack. The Black.
By what are you known?"
He turns to the goblin, giving a slight nod to Retzack the black.
Hundred-Claws in the name I have been given. I appreciate your words, but we cannot find comfort in them. I know not how Goblinkind lives, but I am Kobold. I have known my place since birth, and my Path has been set since I hatched. Many of my Way would rather fall, then try to live a false life, a half life. Tribe is important, more important then self..but my Way is narrow. I am Kobold, and I live to serve the Great One, the Dragons who blood flows inside all my kind.
Without a Dragon to serve, I am without a path..how pathetic a life that would be..
He fingered is arrowlike Singham as he once again became lost in thought
There in no Path to walk without a Great One to serve..my tribesman may choose to live some aimless life, they know little of the Way. I will not live some half life in Dishonor. To live life in ever breath, to serve the Dragon.. Perhaps it would have been better had I stayed and fought on with Trindag to the end... I have shamed myself by continuing this life...
Krish nods as Greas presents his plan, "Yes, Arman can serve us once again. The amount of time they will be frozen will depend on how many there are." He readies the Spirit-Catching totem, and waits for the door to be opened.
Kibra readies for action behind the door. Knocking an arrow and applying slight pressure on the string of his bow. As he feels the thin rope in his finger-pads he is hit by a bit of nostalgia. Kibra and this bow have been through so much.
I remember building this bow as a child. Shredding bark of the Sourgum trees found in the swamp, I had to split and roll the fibers into the springy, thin and resilient string that is the lifeblood of this weapon.
As the memory fades, Kibra looks down to his bow. Better days, simpler days... As he looks up the shaft of his arrow, something clicks.
Smoog said we should try to make my arrows into traps! I need something that slows or stops our enemies, making easier targets. What if tie two arrows together at the middle, add some weight to the nock and fire them at the same time.... yes that should work.
Kibra frantically grabs another arrow, stretches some scrap tripwire between the two and adds small stones to the knock area, creating an improvised arrow bolo of sorts. Firing the arrows with his forefinger between them should send them off in slightly opposite directions (less than 5 degrees) as the tripwire connects with the target's legs the weight of the knocks causes the arrows to wrap around 2 or three times.
As Kibra hears Greas' plan he nods in agreement. This should work well, we can stay a bit in front and scout for the group. Someone should keep a map of sorts for Sees. Anxious to try out his new trap arrows, Kibra steps to the front of the group near the door and readies for its opening.
Thunk looks at Kibra
That good. You not made for thump. You made for twang. he waits expectantly
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It was surprisingly relieving to hearing that there wasn't any obvious hostility towards him from anyone present. He still owed Kibra, but that was another matter. They were ready. They were united. And nothing would stand in their way.
One last address to Thunk. "I'll just make this clear - 'foil' makes the trap not go off. This is generally most useful. 'Spring' makes the trap go off. Usually, that's bad for us. And Thumping the trap could do either, and we wouldn't know which. But with the damage done to it, most times it would either always be sprung, or always be foiled. The downsides of it being sprung is obvious, but if it's always foiled then we can't use it against its makers. If you have any more questions, ask them later. It's time for business."
Everyone was ready. Once he was done with the necessary work on the door, he opened it. And from behind it, a whirlwind of scaly death would emerge.
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Thanks, Hegh. You're the best, though I'm still gonna keep my eye on you.
At this point it's not clear whether Oadir blinks or winks... Best assume it's the former.
Thunk, we set traps, enemy springs trap. Enemy set trap, we foil trap. You find trap, you ask someone else. No one else there, you go other way.
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DOWN IN THE SAFE ZONE:
The other two kobold slaves are equally exhausted and demoralized as Hundred-Claws is. Along with the monk, the two other kobolds are the sole remaining survivors of the Yellowjackets. Their eyes are sunken, their movements sluggish. They perk up, however, and take notice, as Sees-Death speaks.
The female Yellowjacket kobold is sitting on Hundred-Claws' left, and the male is sitting to his right. The male stays quiet and just looks on as Hundred-Claws speaks. The female glances at him, then speaks up herself, using her voice for the first time. "Hundred-Claws speaks the truth," she affirms, nodding. "I am Tallest-Silver, and my brother" she gestures at the other Yellowjacket - "is called Eats-Bugs." the male kobold manages to look a little disgusted at his own name, and looks away in embarrassment.
Leaning forward, Tallest-Silver touches her forehead to the ground, prostrating herself before Tanard, and you, by proxy, Sees-Death. She goes on without lifting her head. "We are lost, directionless, without Trindag the Glorious to lead us. We had resigned ourselves to slavery after seeing so many of our brothers and sisters sold and shipped south, to Erdogan. If you give us purpose and allow us to live in the glory of Tanard's power, we will serve the Great One loyally." A moment later, Eats-Bugs follows suit. The younger-looking male looks to be fascinated with Retzack, watching him as he speaks to Hundred-Claws.
The drow noble stabs Garth's body a few times just for fun, and kicks him aside when she grows bored with it. She pays no attention to the inter-koboldian politics at play, and she simply wanders off to a different part of the safe zone, looking like a restless she-tiger.
UP ABOVE:
Greas carefully opens the rough wooden door and the party of kobolds + 1 tiefling find themselves on the inside of a massive round structure. The door is built into a column in the center of the round room, and there's an exit door leading outside directly in front of you that is slightly ajar, showing sunlight outside. There are windows dotted along the circular walls all around you as well. There are racks against the walls that are empty now, but have slots that appear to be sized for halberds, spears, and longswords. You hear the whimpering sound coming from behind you inside the room, on the opposite side of the pillar that the door is built into. What do you do?
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A look that is hard to discern crosses Retzack's face. He smiles, and lifts up his arms, as if giving the newly come Yellowjackets a telepathic group-hug.
"You need fear your tomorrow no longer, Tallest-Silver. You are among safe company, now. You have seen what havok we have wrought among the slavers' camp, and here we are, unscathed and at leisure, planning our next sorty. Look you there," Retzack motions to the human zombie that stands, grinning and motionless nearby. "She that was one thy jailer now stands passive, heeding MY every word. And, now that you have joined us, so now does my word include the protection of thee. Stay true to thy loyalty, and you need never fear harm again."
Whether he refers to loyalty to Tanard or loyalty to himself seems...unclear.
He approaches the boy. Retzack lifts up his arm and whistles, quite softly. Soon his forearm is covered with dozens of bugs, of a great variety of shape and sizes and colors. "Be not ashamed of thy name, Eats-Bugs. Those that would scorn such do not understand that POWER that insects hold. They make crops grow or fail, wounds to heal or fester, and they make us safe, when yoked, for they can bring most terrible war.
Here now. Would you care to sample these? The white ones in particular are not only tasty but healthy. Sores of the mouth that afflict others will be cast away when they are consumed."
Retzack punctuates the point by eating one, the hydrogen peroxide tingling in his mouth.
"I regret that I do not have the greatest tidbit for you, but I was forced to eat my toe during captivity."
Negative, Hegh. slightly above your heads; except for Oadir, they're at normal eye level for him, since he's man-sized.
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Sees-Death nods slowly, eyeing the female supplicant. The threads around them twisted and folded like a child's game of strings, and when the compulsion returned to her side of the exchange, she bowed into it gracefully. "S'been my job to keep this brood together and alive. What I need most is for each of you to know your place, follow directions as they are given, and, through doing so, keep this new dragon and her clan alive." It was surprisingly easy to express the sentiment of her desires without tipping her hand too steeply; although, she had been lucky about who asked which question. With the exchange complete, the threads dissipate like dust in a breeze.
Looking down at Tallest-Silver, the dirge could already see that they would have problems. She would have to keep this one close. "If I may ask, what service did you render under your... Trindag?" She tried not to spit the name of the wyrm that had taken valuable Kobold stock from the likes of real dragons. "Yours do not look like the claws of a laborer, Tallest-Silver. Your countenance suggests you are better accustomed to the costumed revelry of a courtier. Our new clan has not been large enough to hold court, but perhaps it has grown."
As he steps out, Greas looks about the room, and nods. He keeps his voice low so as not to be heard by the piglet whimpering out of sight. "Hmm. Interesting. We seem to have found ourselves in some sort of armoury. This is definitely something to be aware of. Somebody make use of the windows to survey our surroundings - preferably not Oadir, and not you Krish. I'd prefer to have you for our guest. Now, Kibra, if you don't plan on scouting, nock an arrow for our friend. Thunk...be yourself. Don't Thump anything unless they don't look like they're afraid. Oadir, use that empty eye socket. Make the darkness swirl inside it, or something to that effect. Nothing that requires significant draw. We want to be as intimidating as possible. If we can convince this fool that they'll be safe if they co-operate, we can get whatever we want out of them, and kill them easily afterwards if we so wish. And if they try something...we're ready."
Oh, how he'd missed having a coordinated group. This would have made his attacks on the road and in the city so much simpler.
Hegh stretches his wings and grins. Once his fellow kobolds move on the pig skin, Hegh will fly just high enough to peek his head out the windows. He will flit from window to window until he sees as much as possible from his vantage points.