Glaring at Gabriel with just a hint of disappointment, Caladwhen narrows her focus "Gabriel, you were not to engage the threat without consulting me first. I sent that worthless goblin as bait to see exactly what is was that was killing our messengers, and instead we ended up losing someone of value."
Standing from her desk, Caladwhen glides across the room and inspects the body of Delana. After a moment or two, Caladwhen sighs "From your description, I can only assume a hangman tree did this... at least we know now what lurks beyond the protection of the Horn." Standing up, Caladwhen shakes her head "As to your request Gabriel, I shouldn't have to point out to you that our mission has left more than a few people of value deceased... need I remind you that we only recently lost Oret Stonechild?" Shaking her head, Caladwhen heads back towards her desk "Let that be a lesson; act recklessly, and death will surely call."
Sitting down again, Caladwhen leans back in her chair and contemplates her minions request further "I haven't the ability to bring her back, not in a way that would be satisfactory to any of us. That having being said... we could preserve her for the time being, until such time that we might be able make her whole again." Raising an eyebrow, Caladwhen concludes her meeting with Gabriel and his crew "I cannot guarantee that we can do anything for her, but for the present, we can buy her time and prevent nature from taking its course."
Looking coolly at her minions, Caladwhen frowns lightly and adds "Leave her with me then, I'll see to it that Nariel attends to her. In the meantime, I need to figure how best to deal with this Hangman Tree; it cannot be allowed to continue killing our operatives. Lay low until I have further need of you."
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The cat stands straight, takes one last look to where the dead druid lies.
One eye walks to his sleeping area to where his pile of skulls is, sniffs them all, and takes one in his mouth. He starts towards the exit of the cave.
Alright Sindran. Whats going on? We following this thing?
"Yes," Sindran says, then follows after One-Eye.
Sindran follows for the moment, waving for Grumblejack to stay close and do the same. He takes a moment to observe what happened to the lizardmen.
Sindran acts like he has an idea of what that means and heads to the Lizardmen village.
The trek to the lizards is uneventful - Grumblejack scares pretty much everything away.
You find the Hazorzaht people going about their business, roasting a large fish over a fire.
So whats the deal with the kitty Sindran, is it joining us back to the horn?
"In a manner of speaking," Sindran says evasively. Cats aren't really the usual things he deals with.
The half-orc sets to looking for the chief.
The departure of White Owl passes through the camp like wildfire, if the yelps of grief and soft muttering you hear in the trees are any signal.
"It is as we feared. We are doomed."
It turns out that White Owl provided basic medical assistance to the primitive people, some survival training, and engineering advice on building treehouses. Her healing magic earned White Owl her exalted status.
You and your minions can easily provide the services these primitives require.
The lizardmen are sad and desperate. More and more emerge from the woods and look to you for support.
S+%*.
Talon forces down the will of the blade again, but still feels it's power growing stronger. These are not wild beings with no self control, they are potential minions who can help us achieve our goals!
Scouts. Fodder. Sacrifices, Sindran mused, returning the lizadmen's pleading gaze with a blank look. Minions who have further knowledge outside of the territory of the goblins. Replacements for the goblins in case Zikomo does not work out and considering how fast the goblins disappear even with constant new additions.
He could say he would help them and name a price, of course, but it was far more amusing to see them squirm. And too often did one in despair bargain away more than their worth.
"We could help," he began, and then paused, letting Grumblejack fall in line behind him after he signaled him closer, "but we could not do so for free. We're in the middle of some trouble ourselves and cannot spare resources with nothing to gain."
The clan leader is greatly impressed by your words (and demeanor).
"We...We...know the forest? We could help? Yes! We will come!"
He squawks a dozen commands to his people, who scramble out of their huts in surprise.
After a few more strong words from the chieftain, they slowly start packing their few belongings in primitive bags, and the move towards the river, ready to follow their leader to their new home.
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Just think about it - imagine a medium-sized willow tree, to start with.
This particular one is a tricky, treacherous hangman tree, who is used to luring rodents into its flowers by throwing out hallucinagens, seducing them, grappling them and digesting them.
Now that the nearby Horn of Abaddon is flaring up like a green torchlight, it has become infused with the super-uber-dodgy energies emanating from your evil lair, causing this particular hangman tree to grow massively more powerful than it has any right to be.
Powerful enough even to become a nuisance to you - a pretty darn awesome achievement for what is, essentially, a flower!
Unfortunately, this flower picked the wrong people to mess with. You have minions you care about spent good money on. Detouring the hangman tree would be inefficient. No - This hangman tree cannot be allowed to continue to exist.
So, who better to send than your other dangerous tree?
It is based on the Treant who used to live in this forest; maintain balance in this forest; spend money care deeply for this forest. Indeed, for full points in irony, who better to send but the gargantuan, towering shape of the undead elder treant Jurak-toppled-over-to-the-dark-side?
It would be a battle to remember.
The hangman tree would try to suffocate its prey with its spores - but in vain, as we all know that illusions do not impress the undead as much as they do the living.
The hangman tree would try to attach its many, many lianas to the assailant, hoping to stop its progress.
And for living enemies, this would suffice: Simply hold them tight, until they stop struggling. Usually after a mere month. And what are a few measly days in the lifetime of a tree...?
But not for Jurak, no. Jurak will not die of thirst, or hunger, or too much blood flowing to the brain, or any of the similar, primitive tricks the Hangman Tree has up its sleeve. bark (ba-dum, tsss).
No.
Because this enemy does not live.
Jurak, the undead treant, would simply trudge on. Ever forward, until it could start swiping at the twigs, twisting and turning them until they broke. Jurak would simply keep on ripping, writhing, tearing and bashing away, until he destroyed his intended target, or was unable to do so. And the attempts to hang him upside down would not make him unable; no, they would only be hilarious to watch, but not have more effect than a mild storm, bending him slightly sideways.
No, Jurak would keep ripping off stems with his many branches, he would keep tearing off twigs with his branches and eventually, after hours of mutual pulling and ripping he would finally bash the hangman tree's trunk with his own, simply continuing until either would be incapacitated.
But the hangman tree wouldn't quit. It doesn't know how - it always wins. So, vainly, it keeps ripping, tearing, pulling and writing its many lianas all over the bark of Jurak. Eventually, it will manage to break some of Jurak's twigs. And when it has found out that trick, it will break more, and bigger ones, until, eventually, both trees break under eachother's onslaught - both trees become a mess of shrapnel; both reduced to no more than clever wood, some of it undead.
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We're back together, and time goes on. While you were all out playing with a cat, Caladwhen has done her share of three horrid rituals a day, getting up at ridiculous hours to rant a stupid mantra, and as a consequence not sleeping enough for a full share of spells and relying on her minions.
That said, no crap happened that she couldn't deal with on her own. Also, you're down one zombie treant because of said crap.
we are now at
WEEK ELEVEN of THIRTY-ONE
dragon seen over Farholde! Reflective; mirror, bright. we think silver or white??
Village in turmoil. Not sure of whereabouts. Be ready, may be on its way to you!
~Venorik Rah
As the message arrives Talon stands. "I think I'm best qualified to go scout about this message."
Sindran nods to Talon, allowing him to use his own judgement.
He pens a quick reply to the message.
A dragon. Is it attacking the village or just flying about. I guess if its Silver we can assume its here to stop us. Maybe we could set a trap. If we could lore it in it would be easier to deal with then out in the open. WHat do you guys think?
"Completely depends on how powerful the dragon is. I have no intention to start s#@& with a dragon that's beyond our power."
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In town, a lot more people are smiling than last time you were here. People are putting up dragon decorations on houses and public buildings. Most of these dragons are made of a bright, reflective metal. As you stroll through town, you notice banners and posters saying:
Argossarian
our savior
welcome back
and more along these lines.
Several times children are playing 'dragon and barbarians' where the 'dragon' throws cups of water at fleeing 'barbarians'. Any barbarian hit by the water has to to stand perfectly still.
Clearly, the dragon is a local hero; legend has it that some decades ago, the dragon came out of hiding and chased off an army of Iraen barbarians who tried to invade Farholde from the forest. It hasn't been seen since, but the silver dragon has not been forgotten.
Rumor: dragon is ancient guardian 'Argossarian' from local legends. people rejoice.
Great. Silver dragon. Talon (in disguise as a tall white haired elf) asks around about the dragon, including questions like the dragon's strength, age, and where he could speak to it.
With new instructions from the Master and an increased following, the operatives of Venorik Rah seek to spread lies about Argossarian, while trying to find out more details about from anyone in the know.
Watching Talon take off towards Farholde, Caladwhen quickly pens instructions to her followers in the city. Hesitating a moment before handing the envelop to T'Larryo, the stoic Necromancer appears lost in thought.
Putting the envelop in the fire, Caladwhen gets up and glances over at T'Larryo "Summon the others, and Nariel as well." When they arrive, Caladwhen appears dressed in her finest garments and immediately address them as they arrive "Talon has gone ahead to Farholde; I've decided to do the same. Firstly, I'd like to check in with my operatives in person, and instruct them personally; it would be good for morale to see me." Moving across the room, Caladwhen picks up a scroll and looks to up "I also intend on dropping in on the Baron. With Elise disposed of, we need to exert control over him once more. He'll be easy to manipulate I suspect, if he could fall for someone as pedestrian as her. I also intend to pick his brains on the Argossian; being native to Farholde, I should hope he knows something of it."
With a light smirk, Caladwhen holds the parchment in-front of herself "I have a new method of travel; instantaneous and extremely efficient. I'll be in the Baron's home in a matter of seconds; someone will need to remain behind to hold the fort, but if anyone else is interested in a field excursion, take my hand..."
Arriving in the Baron's home unannounced, a radiant Caladwhen calls out upon arrival in an almost musical tone, which is highly unusual to hear from her "Baron Vandemir, you have company..."
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Great. Silver dragon. Talon (in disguise as a tall white haired elf) asks around about the dragon, including questions like the dragon's strength, age, and where he could speak to it.
please, roll :)
Your get a few meager responses, but nothing you didn't know already. Also, people look at you strangely, whispering 'who is that odd looking fellow' behind your back.
Ireans are a primitive barbarian people who used to live in this area. Many, many years ago, when immigrants founded Farholde, the settlers were attacked over and over and over by the Iraens.
Ireans are a primitive barbarian people who used to live in this area. Many, many years ago, when immigrants founded Farholde, the settlers were attacked over and over and over by the Iraens.
At one point, the barbarians were close to winning - and then the dragon had enough. One of the farmers transformed into a dragon, and drove out the invading Iraen barbarians.
Argossarian gave the the villagers his blessing, and left. The silver dragon was worshipped ever since, but never seen again.
I will go along Cala, if you think the minions can hold down the fort. I will see what I can did up about this dragon.
Cole uses the circlet to disguise himself as a teenage boy. He works the town for information.
"Do tell me why a silver dragon is so important. I'm not familiar with their lore."
Sindran minds the fort, using the time to scry their defenses as well as check on their new assets, namely the cat and the lizards. He drops by to see how Zikomo's withdrawal is progressing, weaning his dependence on the half-orc.
He delegates most of the work once he's seen to things, using any remaining time to check on what Ezra is doing and how Hexor-and-Vexor's game is progressing!
Oh, and bathing in the blood of innocents and engaging in ritualistic sacrifice, I guess.
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[dice=Spread Disinformation]1d20+2=18
Everybody knows dragons demand sacrifices, right? Last time, Farholde just got lucky because there were so many juicy barbarian maidens to gobble up, but no Iraen have been seen for decades. That means our girls are next! It shouldn't be allowed! Intolerable! Boo!
meanwhile, Heitr has setup a booth in the market, taking names of 'dragon sacrifice volunteers' for the defense of the town.
Strangly, they don't have any names yet, but the message they're sending is quite strong.
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Arriving in the Baron's home unannounced, a radiant Caladwhen calls out upon arrival in an almost musical tone, which is highly highly unusual to hear from her "Baron Vandemir, you have company..."
From the back sitting area the Baron's voice sounds genuinely pleased, dripping with anticipation of what the night might bring. Footsteps indicate his prompt arrival.
"Elise? honey! Oh how I've missed you! I had some new garments made especially for - "Then, he rounds the corner, coming to where Caladwhen is waiting for him.
Any hint of pleasure is instantly gone from the Baron's voice. His face turns grim, the eyes narrow, and he stands up straight.
"You."
Turning to face her reluctant host, Caladwhen frowns and confirms the Baron's frosty inference by coolly restating his conclusion "Me."
Glancing over at Cole, a resplendent Caladwhen smiles again and continues in a voice that feigns insult as much as it delivers rebuke "My Cole, if I didn't know better, I'd suspect the Baron wasn't expecting somebody else." Gliding slowly across the room, Caladwhen stops close to the Baron and continues to in a similar tone "Of course, that couldn't be, right my dear Arkon?"
Slowly frowning at the Baron, Caladwhen returns to usual stoic disposition and flatly states "Come now Baron, we have much to discuss... I mean after all, your city is about to have a most unwelcome visitor, and I don't mean us; what do you know of a certain Argossian?
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"I...was expecting Zadaria, as you fully realise. She has been... distant, lately. Perhaps tomorrow, then."
The Baron then seems to see Cole for the first time. Cole, one of Elise's former associates, who was stationed as a bodyguard to the baron on numerous occassions.
When speaking to Cole, the Baron's face and voice take on a whole different tone.
"You! Why did you not announce the visitors? Have you been resuming your habit again? Surely you remember I do not like surprises. Go on - show our guests to the private room. We might as well be civilized about this."
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Once everyone is in the decadent sitting room, adequately seated and catered for, the baron is his ususal composed, pleasant self.
"what do you know of a certain Argossian?
"The overly shiny b~$#% is named Argossarian, elf. Although the locals never managed get it right either."
He speaks of the dragon with a fierce, deep grudge. Being riled from your impressive entrance probably isn't any help for him either. He is pacing back and forth as he tells his story.
"She has an obnoxious tendency to mess up plans of our Prince. When you first came here, I was worried she might get involved." He looks at his expensive drink in a fatalistic way. "Might as well finish this while I have the chance....-- Well, that's a hundred gold well spent..."
He turns back to you.
"Argossarion is clever. I have dealt with - and disposed off, I'm not too embarrassed to tell you - quite a few dragons in my many years. But this one is different. Clever, far too clever for her years. And stealthy. Sneaky. Hell, she might be outside right now and we'd never know it until half of us froze up in one of her breaths. *shakes head* I need another f*king drink"
And, he has one.
"This one is always focused - always on her goal, not to be distracted in any way. She's serious - she doesn't know what amusement is, if you'll believe it. Boring creature... All work, no play. "
He has an odd sort of respect for the creature.
"I encountered her once. When I was younger. We fought. I distinctly remember nothing I did could touch her but fire. Good old hellfire. She's scared to death of it - and with good reason."
He stops pacing, and looks each of you dead in the eye.
"Do us all a favor. Kill it. With fire."