Kargeld eventually calms down and the crew grows quiet and back to rest. The next couple of days pass quietly, and you are drawing within striking distance of your destination. As the Frosthammar moves through an ice-choked river throat, the Captain calls you aside and explains "We'll be there soon enough... but I want it known... when it comes to the shaggy bastards - I'm not joining you on the shore. You handle them yourselves - you ken?"
"We'll deal with them, but we're not unloading all of the weapons by ourselves..." Mi'Dre observes sourly. With the end growing within sight and the boredom of shipboard life dragging onwards he was finding it harder and harder not to just attack the brawny captain; at least that would be exciting.
Kargeld grunts "Aye, you get the bastards quiet and we'll help with the heavy lifting... but if they stay excited then we ain't risking our necks."
"Oh I'm sure the Captain's crew will see to that?" Shedalyn looks over to the sweaty man inquisitively.
Cruxcarr flashes his reptilian smile at the Kaptain;
"Oh I'm sure we can keep the brutes quiet Kargeld... Though to not provoke perhaps your crew should be armed only in a token fashion?"
:
Black Jack eyes the captain with suspicion.
I hope this bastard is not planning on living us behind an running away with the weapons.
Black Jack senses that in this instance, Kargeld just doesn't want to deal with the savage bugbears if he can avoid it. Be it a dislike for the beasts, or being wary of their quick to anger nature... or a combination of both.
Cruxcarr's words are driven off with a scoff "No, we'll show as much steel as we have. We won't point it at them till we're threatened... but it'll be in view."
Kargeld proves himself a worthy captain in the hours that follow, nimbly sailing the heavily laden craft through fields of floating jagged ice. Barking orders his sailors scramble to comply, and again and again he turns the boat at just the right moment to pass between the broken shards calved from ancient glaciers. You get a feeling that a less skilled captain at the helm would have hit several of the ice islands and perhaps scuppered the boat.
After nerve-wracking hours of this, for the Captain at least, the boat pushes through the headwaters of the Taiga and into the clear water of this almost uncharted mighty river. Around you is a land of savage wonders as the Taiga winds through a great northern forest that to the best of anyone’s knowledge has no name.
After miles of picturesque pine trees frosted with new fallen snow, the ship comes to a great mountain range. This river flows through a great rift in the mountains that looks as if some impossible huge primordial giant smashed a pass through the grey slate. You are headed south now, though this appears to have no effect on lessening the intense cold.
Kargeld is guiding you now to the great interior sea of Talingarde – Lake Tarik as it is known. To the south of that lake sits the Watch Wall. And on the northern banks in a wide wooded valley is your destination – the camp of Sakkarot Fire-Axe. Drawing close you sense the tension of the Captain growing as you survey the horde that comes into view.
Thousands of bugbears are already assembled. These savage humanoids are not pleased to see outsiders, especially humans. Worse, there are more than just bugbears here. An occasional huge polar bear lumbers around the camp untended and fur-clad goblins scamper here and there, laughing with frenetic glee. Even a few hill giants gather in the distance at the camp’s fringes.
There is but one place to dock the boat – a crudely made pier that juts into the river. However on that pier are four hulking bugbears. They don’t seem too pleased to see the Frosthamar glide closer. As the boat comes up to dock they stand at the land side of the pier, leering at you and one licks his lips. Kargeld eyes them warily and gives you a look that makes it very plain that the bugbears are your problem. After the Frosthamar is tied off, the bugbears begin to slowly walk towards you.
Beyond the four nearest, a crowd is beginning to form of interested, bored and somewhat ornery onlookers. You do not see anyone resembling one in charge yet though...
]ooc]Right, so who of us has actual face skills? Shendalyn just has raw charisma, fabulous hair, and perfection in all things. Which is to say he'd probably just make them jealous.[/ooc]
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Albina takes a breath to steady herself and snatches up a weapon from the cargo, muttering an incantation to view the colors of magic, and one to call down the blessings of Hell upon herself. She chooses a weapon that looks brutal and efficient and probably a bit overly large in her hand.
With no hesitation visible in her stance or stride, she walks towards the waiting bugbears, greeting them in the common tongue, "Terrors of the north, we bring you the agreed-upon arms, that you may bring pain and destruction down upon the weak mewling men of these lands, and remind them of their rightful place, cowering in their homes and paying tribute to the true masters in the night."
Her illusory guise melts away as she walks forward to stand before the bugbears, attempting to gauge which seems the highest rank, if by size, quality of equipment and fearsomeness of aspect, if no other signs of status seem visible.
If she has little trouble determining the leader of the bugbear welcoming party, she will hand the weapon to him and await his reply, refusing to flinch before the large armed humanoids.
Cruxcarr follows suit also dropping his own illusionary facade, before lumbering down towards where Albina has so dramatically addressed the bugbear horde.
The Initate Hemotheurge remains silent and still, save for a slight bow followed by flanking Albina with his immense bulk... His thick fingers brushing his belt of daggers and scroll cases as he flashes his saw toothed smile;
:
Shendalyn nonchalantly stands about looking bored. The delicacy of the situation is either completely lost on him or after seeing what he's seen a group of shaggy blood thirsty monsters hardly seems worth taking note.
The bugbears before you all appear to be rank and file troops. There is no clear sign of leadership nearby, though one of the four is marginally bigger than the rest.
The largest of the bugbears, who bears a particularly vicious looking scar across it's cheek chuckles with a chest vibrating rumble "Pretty little man-things have brought us some toys boys... and maybe dinner as well. Tell me pretty one... will you sing while we cook the fat man." a scattered series of chuckles sounding out among the observers.
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Albina is unaware that such a creature could even have nuance, and so does not look for it.
"Alas, that one," she says, gesturing over her shoulder at Cruxcarr, "is not for eating."
She leans in, saying softly to the speaker, "But we would never ask battle-tested warriors such as yourselves to take the quality of these weapons on faith, and have indeed brought an entire crew full of men to test them on, and, if, after rendering their flesh sufficiently tender and their blood stains the decks, you wish to feast upon them, that is certainly your business."
She adds, "But be subtle, as the crew are not aware of the role they are to play in tonight's transaction, and it would be a waste of good meat, and good steel, if they were to sail away before we can complete our dealings..."
She shouts back, loud enough to be heard on the ship, "Begin unloading the crates! The sooner we are away from this place, the better!"
Mi'Dre hurries forward, following a step behind Albina as she proceeds down the gangplank. He keeps his own disguise up however, simply standing slightly behind and to Albina's side.
He looks the scarred one up and down, glancing at Albina once as she calls back to the crew, before focusing on the bugbear once more. He stands limber and relaxed, ready to intervene should it be required, slowly clenching and relaxing his clawed hands.
As Albina shouts her orders to the Northmen, Cruxcarr approaches the scarred bugbear still wearing his saw tooth smile.
In slow, simple Common (most unlike flamboyant and eloquent speech the corpulent mage typically employs) he addresses the hairy brute, tone flat and lifeless as his dark eyes;
”Eat me? Heh. Understand this "goblin"… I will crack you like a gull’s egg and feast on your marrow as we make your brothers sing for us…”
:
Watching the tableau of grandstanding before him Shendalyn yawns. "I'm going to get some coffee. I'd offer the rest of you some but it seems you're too busy trying to drink each others blood."
Trying to defuse the situation Black Jack says to no one in particular. Enough playing around.
Then to the bugbears.
Where is Chieftain Sakkarot Fire-Axe? We have bussiness to do and war to wage.
As Shendalyn yawns, Cruxcarr puffs himself up into a grotesque intimidatory pustule. Though somewhat cowed, the bugbear begins to take some offence before Black Jack mentions the Fire-Axe. It licks it's lips nervously and stops it's advance, before Albina's enticing words of easy prey to come once the invasion begins gives it another focus to its desires.
Puffing itself up it turns to the others "Pretty one has a point, not much meat on these ones and the fat one's gone rancid... but below the wall we'll have our pick!" to try and save some face as he withdraws... though the circle of bugbears remains interested and unmoving.
It is less than a minute after this that a great black-furred bugbear that stands a head taller than the others comes forth. The crowd parts silently at his approach and he strides to stand before you. It is a fearsome beast wielding an axe of flame, and the deference shown by the rest of the horde paint him as their leader. Pointing the axe at Black Jack and Albina both he demands in unaccented common “Who sent you?”
Our common friend, the Cardinal. Chieftain Sakkarot Fire Axe I presume? I am Jack Grieves. the black guard gives a small bow. We brough you gifts from the church of our Dark Lord Asmodeus.
At that answer, he smiles a toothy grin. “Then you are welcome here.” Sakkarot turns to the throng of bugbears and bellows in no uncertain tones “These humans are my guests. I will deal with anyone who harms them. They are our allies!” He then walks over to the boat, to which Kargeld and his sailors backs away from. The bugbear rips open one of the crates revealing finely made axes.
Tossing one to a nearby bugbear warrior who until this time only had a crude club to wield he adds “Behold, they bring us steel!” which earns you a terrifying chorus of growls and cheers from the monstrous assembly. In short order the boat is unloaded, Kargeld and his sailors handing the crates over to the bugbears at the Frosthamar's railing. Any complaint he would have had quelled by the sudden warming the monstrous throng had to you. Sakkarot’s lieutenants see that each case is distributed and soon it is plain there has been a visible transformation in the camp. Where once there were a thousand bugbear savages, now there are a thousand bugbear soldiers each with new weapons and shields adorned with the emblem of the fire axe.
Sakkarot holds a feast in honor of the weapons shipment and you. The feast is a brutal, savage affair with bugbears fighting each other and all manner of monsters in attendance. The highlight of the party is when a great shaggy dire boar recently captured from the northern woods is brought in shackles.
One ton of angry pig is led in by a dozen bugbears and placed before Sakkarot. He beheads the already wounded animal in one mighty stroke with his fire axe and the beast is then spitted and roasted in a great open pit. You are all invited to sit at the Fire-Axe’s table – a front row seat at this spectacle of savagery... though Kargeld and his men keep to their ship.
Eventually as the raucous bestial festivities of the bugbear tribes die down, Sakkarot stands and drains his drinking horn once more. He then beckons you to follow him towards what looks to be his command tent - a pavilion bedecked in furs.
Shendalyn...has fun. In a way. Sadly without women to woo and copious amounts of mind altering drugs to try Shendalyn finds his capacity for fun somewhat limited never being the one to enjoy random brawls.
For a man with a refined vocabulary, Cruxcarr demonstrates a monstrous appetite coupled with brutish table manners. The wizard clearly indulges his bloodlust, tearing through slabs of boar and other unnamed meats in a visceral fashion.
As the group are beckoned by the bugbear chief to join him pavilion, an almost sated Cruxcarr rises... His leather apron and smiling saw toothed maw are both smeared with the juices and lifeblood of their "dishes".
"Horde Lord Sakkarot! A most commendable feast... Even one such as myself whose appetites are... considerable and... somewhat peculiar... found it to be both enlightening and satisfying. The perfect inception of our alliance I think..."
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Black Jack enjoys the food and drink. He specially appreciates the brawls taking notice of the best fighters and their tatics. Overall he has fun during the night. When the Sakkarot calls he follows the Chieftan to his command tent.
Sakkarot pushes through the draped furs at the tent's entrance, but does not pause to hold them open to you. The area within is spartan enough, but a little cleaner than you would have expected from an average savage bugbear. The few hangers on and bugbear concubines within are dismissed with a low growl and jerked head to send them outside, leaving but yourself with the Fire-Axe.
He grunts at Cruxcarr's words and replies in a voice that is no longer tempered with the barbarousness it had outside. "The feast is fit for the audience... a horde of savages thirsty for blood. I would have thought it perhaps a trifle gauche for those of your blood... though I have often been mistaken."
Sakkarot measures you for a few moments as he takes a seat on a pile of furs and beckons you to do the same “You are traitors to your own kind. You must know that. When Balentyne falls and my horde pours through its shattered gates, we will slaughter the Talireans by the thousands. Yet I see no regret in your eyes. Tell me, how can this be?”
Mi'Dre in comparison seems to fit in, seeming right at home with the bugbears. He eagerly feasts favouring--as seems his preference--the more unusual pieces of the beasts rather than the simply filling himself with flesh. Once he has had his fill he dives--literally--into the roughhousing, though he restrains himself from doing too much damage, mostly showing off his wrestling talents rather than use his claws.
When things wind down somewhat, and as he spots the others heading for a tent he separates himself from the fray and slips into the tent with them.
As Sakkarot's lackeys file out Mi'Dre senses the shift in atmosphere and scowls. There are those of us that appreciate the simpler things in life." he mutters. "and they aren't my kind at all." he adds with a grin.
Black Jack smiles at Mi Dri's comment.
Change... Change never comes without a price. We seek to remake this weak country into something glorious and that wont happen until the old one is crush. A new Talingrade will rise, shaped to mirror the might of the Dark Prince. Those Talireans that you speak of would slaughter us with the same joy your kind will have when killing them.
Mi Dri is right, those are not our people at all.
Shendalyn stumble drunkenly into the ttent his ears and cheeks crimson with the shade of inebriation.
Holding up a battered leather mug Shendalyn exclaims. "Oh godsh! What's in thish! It tashtes like pissh!" He then downs the entire contents of the mug with every sign of enjoyment. Plopping down next to Mi'Dre he gives the little devil a wide grin.
However when the chieftian asks his question there's a noticeable chill as Shendalyn instantly sobers up. He looks into his mug in askance as if it committed some terrible affront.
"Why?" Shendalyn repeats with bitterness. "Why kill thousands of my own? I won't be as stupid and tell you that they're not my people. They are our people. Our mothers, our fathers, our extended families those whom we once might have called friend, the merchants we buy our bread from, the men and women we might have taken to bed, the bards we might have enjoyed a tale or two from. You're going to rampage through it, burn it all to the ground and render it into this, this, crudeness. No I do not like that. Not at all. Don't let these idiots delude you into their adolescent fantasies of dark power and special privilege among beings they cannot begin to comprehend. They think they'll have a leg up among creatures who are thousands of years older and hundreds of times more cunning than they can hope to achieve in ten mortal lifetimes let alone one. At least Mi'Dre here is simply following his nature." Shendalyn lets the beaten mug fall from his hands onto the floor. "I do what I do because I must. There are things at work, people in agony that are more important to me than the lives of everyone you may slaughter, or those I might kill in the course of this terrible work. I would tear this world asunder with my own bare hands if it meant their succor and my own vengeance against the forces that have wronged me. Against fate. Against good. Against evil. To the abyss with them all. I know I'm damned. I know I am going to suffer a terrible fate. But make no mistake When that work is done I will unleash such wrath upon my nemeses as to make the very foundations of the planes shudder with the force of my anger. Why? Because there is no justice! No order! No right or wrong! There is only brutal and unflinching fate hurtling onward towards oblivion with all the care and compassion of an incoming storm! Love is just the soft mask given to endless pain!" Shendalyn is standing now spitting fury and anger after an awkward silence he visibly calms and regains his composure. "Sorry chieftain it appears I've enjoyed a bit too much of your tribes fermented drinks. I think I will have a lie down now."
With that Shendalyn leaves and after a brief moment of nausea and vomiting returns to the ship.
Cruxcarr sits wearing a tight lipped smile at Shendalyn's tirade.
Passionate in all is our Master Shawn...
As Shendalyn exits the corpulent mage adds an footnote to the Summoner's outburst, eyes glittering as he talks;
"Master Shawn is slightly erroneous Horde Lord Sakkarot... I am neither deluded nor, I assure you, an “idiot”... Do I hunger for power? Absolutely. Who doesn’t – save our lovelorn companion... However my appetites are driven by pleasure... I enjoy the pain, suffering and screams we shall bring. They are dishes at my table... To be tasted, savoured and digested..."
Mi'Dre seems about to object to Shendalyn's little speech when he clarifies. He settles back down again, but after the Summoner's explanation he can't help but let out a snigger.
Black Jack just facepalm during Sheridan speech.
Sakkarot endures Shendalyn's sermon with a bemused expression upon his face. He allows the summoner to expend his venom and if desired depart with his blessing at the completion. Once Shendalyn has left to the Frosthamar the bugbear turns to the rest of you "A mite... unstable... it seems your companion is. Though there are all of us must put up with companions that we might wish to do without." and a sound of a small explosion followed by goblin giggles is heard outside to be chased by a sigh from Sakkarot.
"Keep an eye upon him though, we are at a work of importance and it should not be threatened even if the tipping point were to come." affixing you with a knowing glance. The rest of the late evening is filled with idle conversation and Sakkarot presses you for details of your travails thus far and even what brought you to ruin. You get a sense that he is starved of normal conversation and is therefore making use of what small chance he has before you depart.
At the completion of the evening he gives you one last instruction “Tomorrow you must depart this camp. It will never be truly safe for you here. Over the next week, more tribes will rally to my banner. I will promise them blood and give them steel. Then at last I will be ready to march. A week after that – I will be poised to strike. I will move my horde to the valley just north of Balentyne. There we will wait for your signal. Fire this rocket into the air. Within the hour, we will attack. Make sure that the way is ready."
“After we gather, my horde will be idle and start to grow anxious. I can hold them together for another two weeks. After that, I expect desertions and squabbling. Get your work done before then. You have one month to infiltrate and destroy Balentyne.”
Sakkarot hands you a single carefully wrapped signal rocket. Suddenly the bugbear warlord gets very serious and stern. He stares straight into your eyes “Can you do this? In one month can you break the Watch Wall?”
"He's just drunk on whatever that was that passes for alcohol up here." Mi'Dre observes a little sourly. He'd tried some of the drink, and since alcohol had very little affect on Outsiders apart from the taste he'd given up on the swill fairly early on.
"Heh, a whole month? Just you keep an eye out and stay ready." he replies confidently.
Seeing some of his companions bemoan the standard of drink available, and sensing their host’s air of higher sensibilities, the corpulent wizard reaches into his slingbag;
”Given the reservations regarding the standard of alcohol amongst us... If I may..?”
Cruxcarr produces a bottle of wine with a large red dragon etched upon its glass;
Corentyn Wine… Red Wyrm and a good vintage at that… goes most pleasantly with gnome sweetbreads… but in this instance perhaps merely to toast our new found alliance?”
Jack happily engages in idle conversation talking about their trip and recent news from Talingrade but avoiding his past. At the bugbear question he answers:
It will be done.
Taking some mugs from the tent he passes them to Cruxcarr. Yes, a last toast then.
Raising his glass.
Sakkarot grunts and nods. “Thorn has faith in you. If you weren’t his best, he wouldn’t have sent you. Do this and your names will be legend. Now go. Hail Asmodeus!” With that you depart his company and make your way across the detritus of the bugbear camp, a variety of indelicate sounds wafting through the relative quiet and back to the Frosthamar
You find Kargeld anxious and eager to be underway, eyeing the bugbears suspiciously and now yourselves after you spent time in the company of Sakkarot. You hear him mumble "Bloody smart savage, ain't natural"
Cruxcarr eyes the Kaptain coldly;
A cerebral savage Sakkarot is... with far more "natural" intellect than you and your neanderthal kin "my good captain"...
Mi'Dre takes a swig of the wine, finding it a much richer and more pleasant brew. Perhaps he should take up wine drinking instead... The suggestion of gnome sweetbreads sounded even better however. He observes Sakkarot's suggestion that they were Thorn's best with some amusement. "Hail Asmodeus." he agrees with a smile, chugging the rest of his wine and standing up to head out.
"Natural is over-rated captain." he observes, before finding a spot to hunker down for the night to await his midnight watch.