Thunk searches the body of the Grippli that he killed while Mik-Mik coldly looks on and the rest of the tribe gradually disperses. A few of the other frog-men keep a distance but look on while Thunk goes through his pockets. No special loot except some crunchy snacks, Thunk, and a handful of wooden coins that are no use outside of the swamp.
After a moment, Mik-Mik glances at Sees-Death. "We should be going. If the mountain will erupt again as you say, we have little time."
The frog-man moves to a nearby dead tree. Placing his mouth over a hole in the trunk, he makes a terrifically loud croaking sound that echoes throughout the marshlands. The croaking ululates and dips in pitch and vibrato, like music...of a sort. Some of you that spent nighttimes out on the outside of the Mountain in years past might remember hearing that sound at night and wondering at it. This, it appears, is how the Grippli communicate over long distances.
When Mik-Mik finishes his message, he turns and sits down heavily at the base of the tree. The ground rumbles again; he pays it no mind. He glances around at the marshlands, at the gathered kobolds staring expectantly at him, then makes a "sit-down" motion with one hand. He looks like he's waiting for a bus.
Pork waddles over to Thunk as he notices the Kobold with what appear to be snack. He sniffs, leaning in a bit as he speaks
So..what you find there? Anything good?
He leans in a bit closer, snorting as he eyes the crunchy snacks...
No shines. Pig want?
Thunk tosses the wooden coins to Pork.
Thunk then looks around for something to smash.
Pork eyes the wooden coins with distain before throwing them on the ground with a grunt. He then waddles off towards Mik-Mik and says
We have to move swiftly, as you say. What is it you have us waiting for?
His eyes turn towards the dead tree as he examines it with a curious eye.
Mik-Mik turns his eyes upward to look at Pork, looking depressed. When he speaks, you note that his tongue is artificial, but doesn't impede his speech. Cunningly designed.
"Our ride," is his only response. He pats the tree trunk next to him with fingers that end at the first knuckle. "Sit and wait with me a spell. It will arrive shortly."
Still reeling a little from the speed and chaos of the battle, Smoog sits on a log to clear his thoughts; near enough to Mik-Mik to be polite but not impose himself in the conversation happening with Pork.
-
When he notices the frog leader's tongue attachement, Smoog starts flipping through pages of the "Ye 'Ole Tinkerer's Almanaque" looking for something similar. Maybe also something 'finger' related.
Finding nothing satisfying to smash Thunk approaches Smoog
You play with toy?
While the group waits, Hegh and Shieldbearer move to the side. An outside observer would see Hegh in a heated argument with a nearby stump. After a few minutes he returns to the group.
"It is Gorlaug's will that we trust this frog man." He seems disturbed.
please let Thunk know all about it
Thunk, you have no idea how they're made or how they work. You do remember that a kobold in your old tribe has...had...a false eye that was fully functional. The technology exists - combined with magic, at least - that can replace nearly any body part. You remember, also, that the kobold with the replaced eye had to save up for years to afford the installation. He was finally able to afford it when he took a gold magic circlet off of a foolish adventurer's decapitated head, and pawned it.
Sees-Death picks her way to Mik-Mik's side and sits a bit more closely than discretion might allow. She offers to inspect his wound, if offer meant to not accept refusal. "It would be easy to consider your substantial efforts to aid your tribe a waste, but there is no shame in being who you are, and following the whims of your bladders." Sees tears a few of the more flamboyant streamers from her garment to wrap the creature's head. Her grip is firm, but gentle and she touches him maybe more than should be necessary. "The humors are a fickle host, and can lead to decisions that are, perhaps, less than reasoned; yet, acting in kind with our bodies brings a balance of temper that can ease an aching gut. Anger balanced by whimsy, grief balanced by-" Sees's throat flushes in mock embarrassment, and she pulls her hands away and folds them in her lap. "Still, I believe you to be a noble creature and I thank you for your aid in the face of-" she glances at the wound she inflicted now wrapped in a superfluous bandage, "our mistakes."
-
-
Mik-Mik stiffens when the bard approaches him, but doesn't pull his head away.
"We attacked you first," is his only immediate reply to Sees-Death's overtures. "We knew the risks, assailing Gorlaug's chosen children. We always do." He narrows his eyes at her "affections" in mistrust, seeming to recognize them for the pretty little lies that they are. He glances down at his stubbed fingers, before turning his eyes back to the bard.
"We are allies now. In return for your warnings of Moontower Mountain's eruptions, I will provide you safe passage out of the swamp. I intend to go my own way when we escape the marshlands. Perhaps take up adventuring alone. In the meantime, do not attempt to flatter me by calling me noble. I remember you, when you looked on as my tongue was torn out. I feel nothing for you."
You feel a steady, consistent rumbling in the earth, distinct from the occasional shocks that the mountain is emitting, more steady. Mik-Mik stands up once more from the tree trunk, moving away from Sees-Death. His back to her, he looks out at the marshlands once more.
A few seconds pass silently, before the water before him erupts with a giant sea worm's head. It lashes back and forth as it emerges dripping from the swampwater, and its completely circular mouth (ringed with more rows of teeth than you can count) opens and closes like a lamprey.
Mik-Mik turns to face you all. "Our ride has arrived."
Smoog, you're familiar with the processes that would be required to make, and then enchant, a fully functional prosthetic tongue. It's too technical to write down here, but you very much doubt that these swampy primitives had the necessary know-how to make it for Mik-Mik. He must have contact with the outside world somehow. You also know that the permanent installation of a magical item to your own body comes with its own set of side-effects that crop up over time, such as cursed visions, or cancer.
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Still cranky, Grick paces as he waits for whatever the frogman has called to show up. He pauses and stares at Mik-Mik with interest, if I take his skull and trap his spirit then I could have his power to call upon the denizens of the swamp...hmmm, not enough time now to wrestle with his spirit, but later toad your skull will be mine...hmmm, Sees-Death's spirt would also have interesting powers...
Grick's muttering changes to "which skull first...which skull first...which skull first...which skull first...which skull first..."
Sees sighs, disappointed. Seeing Smoog nearby, She offers a hand to help him stand. "What'cha found, big brother? Anything fun?" She seems to have moved on.
Smoog shows his bird cage to Sees and smiles as he heads to the newly arrived transport.
-
Trying to act like hopping on a giant swamp snake is perfectly normal, Smoog gathers his things and follows Mik-Mik.
You aren't riding it, Smoog...you see Mik-Mik whistle, and the leviathan's mouth opens wide, its tongue extending onto shore like a squishy on-ramp. The frog-man walks into the tooth-filled maw of the swamp serpent.
"Holy Dragon Sh!t (no offense Sees) we gotta go IN?!?!"
-
It is just a tunnel, it is just a tunnel, it is just a tunnel, it is just a tunnel....
Grick taps on his drum and begins a quiet chant, as his suspicions raised, he asks the spirits lingering in the swamp to provide clarity about this extremely unusual mode of transportation trying to discern if the frogman is leading them into a trap.
Assuming the spirits don't reveal treachery, Grick will follow the chief into the worm.
"You'd be surprised what years as a sanitation engineer will harden you too. Just keep close, tunnel brother, the teeth aren't even all that sharp." Sees watches the bands of muscles around the maw as she approaches, ready to display some acrobatic grace should they tense.
Ah a prosthetic tongue, not cheap, not something a Grippli could manage. Reminds me of good old Kix. He had a mechanical eye, worked well enough, looked weird, and then there is the legend of the poor kobold that got bitten in the bum by a lion and had to get his anus replaced...
He has fake lick thing! Those take lot shines! Friend Kix had fake eye. Look dumb, but work good. We have old tale of kob'ld who got bit by big cat and had get fake poo hole.
----------------
When the worm shows up, Thunk shrugs and follows the others inside
No fear, if snake try to eat, then Thunk thump. he says to smoog as if that makes everything fine.
"Was his name Albert?" Smoog asks Thunk..."Amazing, simply amazing."
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Who? Kix have fake eye. We call fake poo hole, "Poo Hole". Real name lost to time.
A pained expression crosses Sees' features. She pretends she's peering up at the toothy maw as she blinks back a single tear. Scoops may not have been a noble name, but it was mine...
Flung follows the others into the giant maw, spear clutched tightly in his claws.
Pork snorts, before following the others within the maw of the giant creature looking around warily..
Fssst silently steps into the massive maw, looking neither upwards to the dagger fangs, nor to the sides of the mouth. He calls back to the others "If they wished the beast to devour us, it would have tried to when it first ascended from the depths. Do not display a weak heart in front of our... new friends."
As he walks across the tongue, he tosses the burning dagger aside to steam away in the brackish swamp water.
Sees runs her claw up and down Smoog's arm. "That thing will have a difficult time swallowing us all. If nothing else, you could steam it from the inside out with your machine. Working together we can give that thing one hell of a case of indigestion."
"Do not worry friends. Gorlaug himself sends us this steed."
Hegh enters the maw without hesitation. Shieldbearer follows with significant hesitation.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Sees passes the time regailing Mik-Mik with an inflated version of the truth. “I was a humble attendant in Gorlaug’s throne room. One night, disturbed in His slumber, The Corrupter sent me to Fssst Firebrand, watcher of Gorlaug’s flame to query the heart of the mountain. The Immolator asked for something to offer the fires, and rather than put him in his place, I offered my mother’s wedding broach. The deep elements foretold of a great fall and the simple-bred Kobold who would lead the tribe through the coming trials.”
“Fssst Firebrand sought out Pork, whose parents’ unnatural love spawned an unstoppable force and an insatiable stomach. Fssst called on Pork to ask the mire for the instrument of it’s vengeance. Pork sang across the swamp to the melody of Dire Jester Smoog’s arcane instruments. At the sound of their music, the wood parted and presented that very spear, the Ebon Splinter, soaked in all the poisons of the mire. The spear would not budge but for the claw of the foretold chieftain, Flung Farsight.”
“When Gorlaug fell, he bade me to flee with his last breath. Ordering me to seek out the inquisitor Grick Toebiter who was to carry the ancestry at his belt. Flung Farsight, the peerless tactician, brought us together to chase down the vile traitor Bolgir Blighttail, a powerful necromancer who sent legions of undead to wipe out our remnants after Gorlaug had fallen. The foreigner, Thunk, who crossed mountain and desert sustained by naught but the wrath of The All-Eater. When he arrived at Moontower mountain, he carved a path through Bolgir’s legion to bend knee to Bahamut’s chosen. Together they will scour the enemies of Bahamut from this realm. Hegh, the blood hellion, high commander of Gorlaugh’s blood guard, pinned Bolgir to the ground, and Grick Toebiter banished him to the furthest ring.”
“Days tired, having subdued the skeleton army and spent our last energy holding back the mountain’s grief, we found you.”
Hegh spends the trip in what appears to be a quiet but furious conversation with one of the monster's teeth. Shieldbearer shies away as Hegh's rage becomes palpable.
During their strange ride away from the mountain, Smoog sits down next to Fssst.
Silent for a while, Smoog finally blurts out awkwardly…
-
“So I noticed you can sprout flames from your hands.
Have you always been able to do that?”
Still speaking with Fssst
-
”I’m asking ‘cause all this is new to me; being heroic and stuff.
See, I have never considered myself anything special.
Oh, I can dig a straight tunnel and find my way around in the dark pretty good. But now, after finding what I found in the dark, or inheriting what Gorlaug always meant for me to find … NOW I have something that makes me special. Now I have something that gives me power.“
-
“So this is my predicament.
I know I need to let the old Smoog go and embrace this new Smoog.
I realize that my mining picks represent the old me.
The new me needs new tools.
Will you help me reshape them?”
-
Smoog surrenders his mining picks to Fssst
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Fssst takes the tools, old and worn down, smooth wooden handles strapped in place by pig sinew. He runs his ruined hands over the items, feeling them with scar-deadened fingertips. The metal heads have borne up well after years of use, scraped clean and shined bright by the rocks they shattered.
"You are made anew, and wish your weapons made anew to match. Will they be clever and sharp as your tongue? Quick and razor edged?"
Fssst hands the tools back. "My hands do not spout the flames. Tending the fires of the warren for many years have caused my hands to become a home to the fires of our mountain. Within, they are always burning. This was a natural thing, an extension of being who I was, doing that which circumstances bade me. It did not make me 'special'. Finding a mote of power in the dark has not made you 'special' either. New Smoog, old Smoog, same Smoog."
The flamekeeper stares at Smoog in the pitch black belly of the water beast, orange light glowing in his eyes. "I will do this thing you ask. Remake your tools. In exchange, you will spend more time discovering what makes you better, more worthy, than our kin that bled and died under the mountain. I assure you, it is not power."
"But, I will do this thing when we are no longer buried in the throat of a monster. I am mad, Smoog, not a fool."
Smoog stares at Fssst for a long time.
-
He knew Fssst was right.
Smoog knew he was still not special.
Might never be special.
Maybe no one was special.
-
But he had changed.
He knew that for sure.
A fork in the tunnel had presented itself and Smoog had taken the rocky, uneven path.
-
"Fssst, your wise counsel has not fallen on deaf ears.
I can appreciate your assessment of my situation.
I DO promise to ponder my worth, and how I escaped when so many of our kin died and were buried under the mountain.
I owe them that much.
I owe myself too"
-
Then a huge smile eclipses Smoog's face...
-
Excitedly,Smoog flips through his old technical manual and stops at a parti cular page diagramming some special tools.
-
“Well, I need a squeezy holder thing called a ‘Pliers’
I also need a twisty adjuster thing they call a ‘Driver’
“I will eventually need this thing here and maybe that but these first two should be good to start.”
- ”You see, according to the great Technomancer Manwar Thickspoke, the transc oefficient edifyer could cause a positive lateral friction to build up in t he quad modal blah blah waa waa whaa wa…….etc.”
-
Smoog drones on about his newfound profession unaware that the rest of the group is eye-rolling and finger-gagging.
Grick, when you reach out to the spirits of the land, you can feel only their roiling pain and confusion as the lava beneath the earth's crust surges upward and gathers pressure. Even with good rolls, sometimes the information is just not easily available to you. You have to judge Mik-Mik with your earthly senses...
When the last of the kobolds hesitantly enters the swamp serpent's gaping maw, the frog-man tugs on a low-hanging tonsil and the creature closes its mouth. Mik-Mik pulls a small wooden stick out of his vestcoat, holding it aloft; insects that are clinging to the wood begin to shake their wings and glow, providing a soft, if strangely biological, light.
"Set yourself in the openings along the inner wall of the throat," he instructs you all. "Those used to be saliva glands of the gordumrunra. We removed them when it was tamed by my great-grandfather, many years ago. If you don't hide in the alcoves..."
He is interrupted by the serpent swallowing as it wriggles through the wetlands at terrific speed. Everything in the central corridor of the creature's body is washed backward, into darkness - and presumably, the creature's digestive tract.
"That happens," he finishes. That done, he settles in for the ride. The creature doesn't appear to need any sort of piloting; Mik-Mik spends the journey listening to Sees-Death spin her tale. When she finishes, he nods.
"That's quite a tale, and you've only just begun. Ebon Splinter, eh?" he says in response, holding on to a small tendon of muscle to steady himself on the bumpy journey. He glances at Flung, who has been riding silently so far, and seems to size him up.
"If your goal is the destruction of the adventuring group that slew Gorlaug, then I wish you good fortune. Gorlaug was a cruel god, but he held the lands together under his power. With that gone, the entire swamp will be overrun with lava. But do these adventurers think of what their actions will do? No, they got what they were after - you Kobolds and your treasure." the Grippli lapses into a sullen silence, staring at the walls of the swamp serpent's throat as if he could see through them to his dying homeland beyond. For a long time, the only sounds are the biological squishings of the swamp serpent's inner workings and Smoog's enthusiastic but befuddling prattle.
Hours go by within the stifling heat of the Swamp Serpent's gullet. Regularly, the creature will open its mouth slightly as it swims, sending a wash of swamp water over all of you. You can tell during these brief windows of time that you're moving at terrific speed through the swamp, though landmarks are hard to make out from your angle. Still, you can tell each time that the creature opens its mouth that it is heading at breakneck pace for the outer edge of the swamp.
Flung sits in the alcove, inspecting his gear and grunts every so often in apparent approval during See's tale.
He stares pointedly at the Grippli when it makes eye contact and curls his mouth in a slight snarl until the frog looks away.
When Sees finds a moment of privacy, she pulls a small vanity box from her pack. Opened, the box had a few sticks of coal, ochre, carmine, and chalk mixed with beeswax in the base and a polished disc of silver in the lid.
Experimentally, Sees reverses her headdress, pulling the magical bowler hat right way forward. She wanted to see if her illusory disguise was the same as Thunk's. She had some dificulty identifying male from female apes, especially out of dress, but she remembered that Thunk's disguise had short brown hair.
Seeing the resultant image, she spends the remainder of the trip practicing a voice she thinks fits the face.
The hat appears to recognize the gender of its wearer. A raven-haired, green-eyed young human woman looks back at you in your small disc of silver.
Mik-Mik shows no reaction to Flung's hostility, but his unblinking gaze does not shift from the black-scaled kobold's eyes.
Thunk simply falls asleep for the duration. Smashing is exhausting
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Smoog had taken the wrong lesson the right way. It was enough. People, even those as enlightened as Kobolds, hear what they expect to hear, not what is said. Fssst said that the power did not make Smoog special, Smoog hears that he is not special. For some, a little light in the darkness illuminates the path. For other, it blinds them. At least the young kobold was headed in the proper direction now. He had come close to worshipping the power he brought out of the mountain. The power is just worthless ash, next to Smoog's decision to grasp it. Being a Kobold who would do take such a strength into himself, that was a fire to be respected.
Pork takes a seat in one of the alcoves, and looks around, studying the surroundings curiously. wth a grunt, he addresses the gordumrunra
Tell me, great one. Why do you let us travel within you?
Everyone's inner thoughts are suddenly deafened by a rumbling booming sound coming from the gullet of the very creature you ride within. The voice is enormous; this is the second largest animal you've ever conversed with, Pork. (What was the largest?)
the gordumrunra's voice is as long and trundling as its body, culminating in a long hiss of air that originated between the creature's lips ahead of you. To Pork's ears, you understand the words: FROGS SACRIFICE TO ME.
When the rumbling is over, the Grippli's wide red-eyed stare has shifted from Flung to land squarely on Pork. "What are you doing?" he asks, pointedly.
Pork grunts as he answers Mik-Mik
I wished to know how this..gordumrunra as you call it, came to be in the service of your tribe. You said your grandfather tamed it, while the creature itself speaks of sacrifices. I found it strange that so mighty a creature would come to the beck and call of a tribe it could have easily devoured.
Pork thinks back to when he was asked to convince a Purple Worm to steer away from the mountain home of the Kobolds. He nearly quaked in fear as he spoke to the creature, convincing it that devouring the servants of the Great Gorlaug would cause more trouble then it's worth. Besides, all creatures knew that Kobolds are not particularly tasty. The creature grumbled and roared but, in the end, agreed to leave. While this creature was not as large, something within him was disturbed at the fact that such a mighty creature could be tamed.