.
DOT!
The town of Torch is so named because of a single violet flame that burns atop Black Hill in the heart of the town. It burns incredibly hot, and while it's usually the size of a bonfire, several times a year, the fire spews up into the heavens, in a brilliant beam of purple violence. These eruptions are presaged by about an hour of soft rumbling, giving nearby smiths a chance to retreat before the fires can consume them.
At all other times, the violet energies allow for the smelting of all manner of skymetal. Torch is one of the only locations where skymetal can be worked with relative easy, and its entire economy is based around these purple flames, with traveling smiths coming from across Avistan to pay for the opportunity to work with them. Of course, Torch needs all the visiting trade and coin it can gather, for it's a poorly kept secret that the Technic League charges the town taxes and tariffs on a monthly basis.
You all wake up on a bright morning, . For those of you who are able to see the Black Hill from where you are, it's easy to see that the flame is out. It has been out for over a week, and people are becoming more and more anxious about it - especially with the knowledge that the Technic League will soon be coming to collect their tax.
To say that the town depended on the Torch would be an understatement. It was not only their primary means of income, but it also served as their waste disposal system. Without the means to burn the refuse, it has begun to pile up in the streets. Some has even found its way into the Weeping Pond, contaminating the town's water supply, and putting added pressure on the water refinery system. As if that all weren't enough, now there are people beginning to complain of strange headaches.
About a week ago, one of the Councilors, Khonnir Blaine, a prominent wizard, alchemist, and well-liked individual, began making expeditions under Black Hill to try and find what has changed to extinguish the Torch. Rumour has it that he disappeared during the second expedition and hasn't been seen since. There is a rather last-minute town meeting scheduled for noon, and the attendance of everyone in town (even those simply traveling through), is greatly encouraged.
Kon'Zu doesn't sleep, but all the same he greets the sun every morning from the top of the junkyard. He performs a mediative martial art, moving slowly but deliberately as the children watch on in delight. Despite the risk, he'll be at the meeting. Torch needs the fire reignited, no matter the cost. He'll relight it with his own flame, if he has to.
Garl sleeps under a tarp strung up near the gates that is put aside for travelers. His horrid snoring has driven other vagabonds to seek shelter elsewhere, thus he awakens alone. Stretching his long limbs, he rises and sings the Song of the Morning (aka, he crows like a rooster) as is his custom.
Noting the great hunger gnawing at his stomach, but wishing to see his rations last for the road, he begins looking for work around town.
"GREETINGS, GOOD TORCH RESIDENT. I AM PEREGRINE GARL, A HOLY MAN HERE TO BEAR WITNESS TO THE EVENTS IN YOUR TOWN. I SEEM TO BE SHORT ON COIN AND LARGE ON HUNGER: WOULD YOU HAVE ANY WORK THAT I MAY PERFORM, PERHAPS FOR FOOD OR COIN?", he booms.
Changeling wakes in an alleyway in town. He would have used the tarp, but Garl had been there and...yeah, that was a bad idea in so many ways. At least he was dry under his glamour.
He currently wore the face of a half-orc, dressed in simple clothing. It was a theme that had served him well here.
He stretches, gathers his belongings (thankfully not taken), and goes about on his morning patrols. Food could wait till he needed it, since he was lucky enough to have rations. But the Technic League might try something this morning. He would do what he can before he went to the meeting later.
|
Atlas spent the prior day walking around the Silver Mount, looking for signs of the Machine Mage. He thought it was odd that the normal fires of industry weren't burning, or that the sounds of a contant hammer-beat of metal-on-metal were absent. He couldn't understand why things had changed so much, since he had only been gone a week.
In confusion and exhaustion he stood next to the Mount and simply powered down. Any passers-by ignored him, thinking he was just another odd gargoyle that was part of the odd structure.
In the morning he awakens, does his usual systems check, and wanders into the strange town, looking for details.
He notices a half-orc dressed in simple clothing going about his morning patrols, and decides that questioning a native might be a good way to start, since of course everyone would know about their lord and master.
says the 7 foot tall hulking battlemech.
At the appearance of the hulking mass of metal, Changeling nearly jumps out of his hide - and then starts scowling as he recognises the Mech before him.
Damn it! Atlas! Why did it have to be Atlas? Crazy Mech had to go and scorch my breakfast the other day...wait, Karamoss? Oh dear. That's the one that gave the Technic League so much trouble and vanished, isn't it? Glad I'm not wearing the same face as last time...I've got to deal with this Mech before this gets messy.
Looking around quickly for individuals from the Technic League, he starts speaking hurriedly. "Look, I have no idea what happened to you if you don't know, but one day Karamoss launched some crazy siege on Absalom, got his ass handed to him, and vanished. Thing is, it's been CENTURIES since then. Minimum. The Technic League are running this place now, and if you're actually one of Karamoss's creations, they REALLY aren't gonna like you here. Follow me, and in the name of all that is good in the world, DO NOT START A FIGHT ON THE WAY!"
Changeling attempts to lead Atlas back to the junkyard. People don't tend to go there, and if he has to he can just claim Atlas is an obsolete model they couldn't scrap. He might be able to gauge Kon'Zu a little better too with a Karamoss Mech nearby.
While Kon'Zu waits for the meeting to begin (he keeps time very well and knows exactly how long it takes him to move stealthily through town) he takes great care in getting his charges ready for their day. There's a free school in the southern part of town (where he dare not follow) but he can still get the orphans dressed and fed. After they leave, he waits on the edge of the Junkyard, watching them pass through the crowds.
He watches Atlas and the half-orc approach. The crystal for agitation flares briefly. It's going to be one of THOSE days.
|
|
Atlas nods.
Atlas then follows the half-orc, while internally digesting what he just heard.
'A-TAC percentage of Master launching large attack: 99%
That attack would have been beyond his ability to succeed: 80%
Damage to internal servos caused paralysis for extended duration: 60%
Technic League victory after Master's defeat: 100%
Growth of town correlates with data strange half-orc has given us: 100%'
As they approach Kon'Zu, Atlas, thinking that he was being lead to a Technic League compound, inquires.
It doesn't seem right to make that statement an inquiry, but it has been a very odd day.
Kon'Zu's eyes widen a bit in surprise. He knew a bit of Atlas' history and didn't want to cause trouble. Still, he was very glad the children had left for the day. If it came to blows he might be able to defeat Atlas, but not without collateral damage. He had to hope he could reason with the machine.
I was. It was some time ago and we've parted ways. I mean you no harm.
Already frustrated by the bot, he just continues on his path. He's unsurprised by Kon'Zu's presence, and notes the subsequent attempt at avoiding a confrontation. The Machine Mage had made some impressive works, and Technic or not it would be a bad idea to fight one. It was a point in Kon'Zu's favour in any case.
He turns back to Atlas. There had to be some way of getting him to understand. "I wasn't actually leading you to the Technic League, honestly. I needed a private location to update you on things. This place is less a Technic League stronghold, but more a place from which they extort taxes so as to fuel their campaigns. Any significant attempts at resistance will put Torch at great risk, and I'm pretty certain we don't currently have the resources to withstand a serious assault, let alone the repercussions. In short, you try anything here, you will be destroyed, and the town will suffer."
Come on. It doesn't care about that. He needed to give it an alternative. "If you want results, we need to build up the town's resources. There's a flame called the Torch that works as an enviable Skymetal forge. It's the source of nigh all the town's income, and our waste disposal, but it went out not long ago. Khonnir Blaine went under the Black Hill to discover why, and has yet to return. We need to restart the Torch, and Blaine's the best way to learn how. Until we have both, we can't even prepare. So. Given the parameters set out, could you temporarily withhold from active hostilities against the League and assist us? It's in your interests."
Goromatz wakes up in a hammock he swung between two poles just on the outskirts of town. He had arrived in town 2 days ago and become curious about what might be growing around the fires of the Black Hill. Goromatz had planned on speaking with Khonnir Blaine first thing in the morning about accompanying him on the next expedition. He packed up and started on his way. Heading into town he noticed the two large mechanized beings he had met previously conversing with a half-orc he didn't recognize, still by the junk yard. Curiosity got the better of him and he let himself wander over again. Friends and future friend! Are you guys headed to the grand meeting?
As Garl approaches a man and begins shouting at him, the man looks for a few moments like he shits himself, and blinks rapidly while he tries to digest the nonthreatening words being hurled at him. "Uh Y-Yes." Even as he begins to calm down, he clearly still isn't calm, and it's obvious that his reaction was less about Garl being a Troll, and more general anxiety and fear. He sighs, and does his best to collect himself. "I don't have anything myself, but if you have a way to get rid of the trash, I'm sure someone in the town will pay for that." He shakes his head. "I heard it's gotten into the water, there's so much."
He looks around, conspiratorially, and leans closer to the large troll, though not coming even remotely close to its ear. "You know the meeting today? At Town Hall? Between you and me, I heard they're gonna try to offer some work to keep the town going. Not sure what. Maybe fighting Technic League when they come to collect. Maybe trying to fix the Torch." He shakes his head, and pulls back, moving a finger across his mouth in a zipping fashion.
|
|
As Atlas ponders what the half-orc has said, he turns and locks on to the dwarf that addressed them. However the A-TAC is having conflicts with the new found data, and decides not to attack simply out of having too many unknown factors.
The Query program reaches an accord with secondary directive and manages to retain the alpha priority. It continues speaking.
It stops speaking, failing to reinforce the reasons for this.
Of course it assumes everyone knows the reasoning.
As Garl approaches a man and begins shouting at him, the man looks for a few moments like he s+#~s himself, and blinks rapidly while he tries to digest the nonthreatening words being hurled at him. "Uh Y-Yes." Even as he begins to calm down, he clearly still isn't calm, and it's obvious that his reaction was less about Garl being a Troll, and more general anxiety and fear. He sighs, and does his best to collect himself. "I don't have anything myself, but if you have a way to get rid of the trash, I'm sure someone in the town will pay for that." He shakes his head. "I heard it's gotten into the water, there's so much."
He looks around, conspiratorially, and leans closer to the large troll, though not coming even remotely close to its ear. "You know the meeting today? At Town Hall? Between you and me, I heard they're gonna try to offer some work to keep the town going. Not sure what. Maybe fighting Technic League when they come to collect. Maybe trying to fix the Torch." He shakes his head, and pulls back, moving a finger across his mouth in a zipping fashion.
Garl nods, miming sealing his mouth, locking it, and throwing away the key and then miming the key being swept away by a bird.
"VERY WELL, PERHAPS I WILL HAVE BETTER LUCK ELSEWHERE. THANK YOU FOR YOUR CONSIDERATE ADVICE!"The troll starts grabbing large pieces of garbage before his sensitive nose gets the better of him.
"AH TORCH, YOU ARE FAR TOO FRAGRANT TODAY!", he exclaims to no one in particular while he pulls his shirt up over his mouth and nose for a makeshift breathing mask. When he has a large enough bundle he trudges over to the scrap yard with it.
"FRIENDS, GREETINGS TO YOU! WHERE CAN I BURN THIS TRASH? OR BURY IT? IT'S GETTING IN THE WATER NOW, THAT WILL BE VERY BAD FOR THE ORPHANS."
"Preparation before aggression. It'll happen when we are ready, or something forces our hand." It seemed that Atlas had been convinced. It would probably last all of five minutes, but it was five minutes. During which time Goromatz arrived, along with...Garl? No clue why he came HERE with this, but he was present. Changeling looks at Garl, taps his nose, and turns out his (illusory) pockets. He points to his eyes, then to Atlas. Hopefully, he'd get the hint.
"I intend to go to the meeting, but I don't know about anyone else here. As for the trash...start a fire somewhere out of the way? Maybe Kon'Zu could help burn it?" With the town having being reliant on the Torch for this, there weren't really other measures in place. It really showed right now.
|
|
The laser pops out and starts swiveling in the trash's direction. It keeps rotating in the direction of brown banana peels and rotting bones, as if having trouble locking on. After a few moments the weapons seems to simply give up and hunker down back into the mech's torso.
The describer of the league seems tacked on. As if it was a perfunctory detail added into the hard code.
Kon'Zu extends his massive hand to Garl, taking the bundle of trash.
Alllow me.
He closes his gauntlets around the garbage. After a few moments his whole body turns red hot. The garbage smokes, flares and eventually he opens his hands to let the ash sift out.
Thank you for your dedication to a cleaner Torch.
As Garl approaches a man and begins shouting at him, the man looks for a few moments like he s#*@s himself, and blinks rapidly while he tries to digest the nonthreatening words being hurled at him. "Uh Y-Yes." Even as he begins to calm down, he clearly still isn't calm, and it's obvious that his reaction was less about Garl being a Troll, and more general anxiety and fear. He sighs, and does his best to collect himself. "I don't have anything myself, but if you have a way to get rid of the trash, I'm sure someone in the town will pay for that." He shakes his head. "I heard it's gotten into the water, there's so much."
He looks around, conspiratorially, and leans closer to the large troll, though not coming even remotely close to its ear. "You know the meeting today? At Town Hall? Between you and me, I heard they're gonna try to offer some work to keep the town going. Not sure what. Maybe fighting Technic League when they come to collect. Maybe trying to fix the Torch." He shakes his head, and pulls back, moving a finger across his mouth in a zipping fashion.
Goromatz became apprehensive. What is going on here??? There was a lack of clarity in what was going on for sure, but why? He hadn't really encountered these types of machines for more than a few minutes at a time. Were they programmed this way? There wasn't enough information to be sure what was really going on. The only one who had responded to his inquiry seemed a bit frustrated himself. Mostly orc, what is your name? I wish to accompany you. Shall we be off? Technic League?
|
|
The massive death's-head of the assault mech turns to the rogue. The unblinking eyes rest on him for many moments, and seem to consider the dwemer with an almost alien consideration. Or, at least, seem to consider something.
A female-sounding voice echos in the mech's head, overheard by none. 'Objective confirmed. Plan designation 'Sigma' marked and locked. Commencing Phase Alpha,' the Forged thing thinks, as if in foreshadow.
The assaultmech begins trodding off in the direction of the town meeting.
It was obvious that Goromatz had no idea what was going on. It showed in the way he was carrying himself. Poor guy. "Just call me Trach. And...try not to worry about the giant armed Mech too much. It shouldn't do anything too bad quite yet. I was going to finish something up before, but I suppose it's about time I got moving. Kon'Zu, you coming?"
Changeling leaves with Goromatz, and Kon'Zu should they come with them. Time to see what was going on.
Kon'Zu takes another look back to his junkyard. Leaving it will expose him, likely let the Technic League know he survived. It'll put him at risk.
But Torch needs him. The children need him. He may be the only one who can reignite the fire.
He quietly says goodbye to the junkyard, wishing he had a chance to say something to the children. He'd leave a note, but his hands are not articulated to write and the children cannot read anyway.
He nods to Trach and follows them wordlessly to the meeting.
"OH! IS IT MEETING TIME ALREADY? WELL, I SURELY WOULDN'T WANT TO MISS THIS. DO YOU ALL HAVE PLANS TO CROW YOUR SOLUTIONS AND STRUT YOUR PLUMAGE, SO TO SPEAK? AN IMPORTANT MAN IS MISSING AND MY NOSE WILL FIND HIM."
The group arrives at the town hall to find it already packed with people, and they're forced to stand near the back. The crowd murmurs rumours and fears and theories.
An ancient-looking Dwemer emerges from a small office. You all recognise her as Dolga Freddert a former adventurer, entrepreneur, and blacksmith who has been a citizen of Torch since it was founded, and is now its oldest councilor. As she crosses the front of the room, she shuffles some papers and adjusts the glasses on her wrinkled face. Freddert is joined by Kol Vestly, her longest serving assistant, who watches her with care and concern.
The rest of the council is noticeably absent.
Freddert takes her seat at the table, but doesn't yet look ready to speak, and side conversations continue. She looks through her pages, looking older and more weary than any of you have seen her before.
Changeling takes in the scene in awe as he arrives. Woah, look at all the people here...locals and travellers, all come together. It's nice to feel like part of the town. For a moment, he closes his eyes and smiles, listening to the many voices of the townspeople. I wish everyone would come together like this more often, sad as the circumstances behind this are. It doesn't happen enough.
Everyone had their own take on things. The whole place was a melting pot of ideas and concerns, shared even as Dolga and Kol came to the front. Hey, where are the other councillors...? Did something happen? Dolga's looking...pretty rough. Kol seems more worried than usual. He wasn't going to point it out. Things were uneasy as it was. But that didn't mean leaving her like this. Quietly, he called to the summers to grant her solace at this moment.
He called to it. But the magic of nature had a harder time calling back properly since the forests left. Slowly, he shifted behind Garl and started making sure the hood of the robe he wore under the glamour would hide his face. If you let it, nature tended to go for more grand, sweeping changes. And that was not conducive to keeping a low profile.
Garl scans the crowd, sniffing the air like a hunting dog. While he doesn't expect that any nefarious characters are in attendance, fear of the Technic League is a prevalent theme in his interactions with Torch residents and he can't help but wonder if there are observers here.
Goromatz scanned the room. The busyness of the interior of the hall made him feel at home. He shifts in his seat at the sounds of strange headaches. He looks around to identify who he heard speaking. And sees nothing of the sorts. Strange. He smiles when he sees Dolga.
As Changeling casts his magic, the sun comes out from behind the clouds, and shines in through the windows. When Dolga notices, she simply sighs, finding little comfort in the memory of warm days. The town was a mess, teetering on the edge of disaster, and she keeps her eyes rooted to the present, unwilling or unable to look away from the cold reality.
She clears her throat a few times, and begins speaking quietly. Kol Vestly rushes to her side carrying a small metallic device, which he sheepishly holds up to her. Scowling for a moment, less at him and more at the situation, she takes it and holds it up near her throat. When she speaks again, her voice booms, filling the town hall.
"Apologies." She begins, "For the absence of my colleagues. Bazlundi Otterbie and Joram Kyte are trying to solve the refuse problem, and Soceal Murgrave is still bedridden with a terrible headache." She pauses. "As for Konnir... To answer why most of you have come, Konnir Blaine is indeed missing."
As the crowd begins to murmur, she simply holds up a hand, looking exhausted to shout or call them to order. "As many of you have heard, Konnir went under the Black Hill to search for why our flame has gone out. The Council have sent two separate expeditions to look for him, and neither have returned. Nor has Konnir."
"We are now prepared to offer a generous reward for any teams that can go under the Black Hill and return with Konnir. It is certainly dangerous, but the future of Torch depends on him, and what he has found. If anyone is interested, I would be happy to answer questions, either here or privately. Our futures are in your hands."
|
|
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
'Excellent. Phase One complete. Initiating Phase Two. Commencing Operation: Ingratiate.'
The assaultmech stomps forward, trying to get nearer to the speaker through the thronging mass. But proximaty is not critical. Simply to not be on the perimeter is sufficient.
His external speakers, designed to be heard above the din of battle, spin up, trying to project across the crowd.
The forged waits for their response.
Kon'zu pushes through the crowd, approaching Dolga. Fear of death is not programmed into Kon'zu, but he knows that this is still a brave act regardless. Once the crowd parts and he is in front of her, he kneel. Even this low, he still has to look down to meet her eyes.
I will journey below the Black Hill to reignite the flame
"I'LL FIND HIM FOR YOU, CORMARA BLESSES ME WITH HER RELENTLESS DETERMINATION ON THE HUNT AND I SHALL PASS THAT BLESSING TO YOU. WHEN WAS THE LAST EXPEDITION SENT AFTER HIM?", Garl says, raising a long arm as if he weren't the only seven foot tall troll runt speaking.
That was...disheartening. Nothing major had happened, so that was something, but she was still looking so weary. It was terrible. Atlas was nearly as bad, though. It didn't even check for League operatives! Not to mention it was probably bargaining using Kon'Zu from the seems of it, especially after its pitiful performance earlier with the refuse. Admittedly, it was reasonably clever use the knowledge of Kon'Zu's presence and utility as leverage, but that didn't change what was going on. That Mech just doesn't know when to quit, does it?
Well, he can't undo Atlas's actions, and Kon'Zu was at the front. If they really were a secret, they weren't anymore. There are more important matters anyway. Now that the call is going out to everyone, he was going to answer it. Stepping out from behind Garl, he makes his way to the front beside Kon'Zu, and takes a bow. "Greetings. I am Trach. If you will have me, I would like to assist in this time of need. I won't ask for the reward you would provide, as you have greater need of it than I. My only desire is proper equipment and a warm meal."
He would support Torch. And perhaps, get something decent to eat. It has been far too long since that happened.
There they are again with the Technic League...Maybe in my travels I've come across something of the sorts. Goromatz's pondering ends immediately when the sound of the crowd reminds him of where he is. I suppose this is as good an opportunity as any to travel that region. Possibly saving someone would add to the experience of serving the great Dolga. Goromatz watches the others he had come with approach and slowly follows. He patiently waits his turn before bowing in front of his elder. He confidently but respectfully bellows, Dolga Freddert, the great adventurer and blacksmith, it would be with great honor that I take up your quest should you accept my services. He raises his eyes to meet hers before standing up and moving behind the much larger who had approached first. He was getting a little hungry.
Dolga begins to shoot an irritated look at Atlas as he mentions the Technic League, but it softens when she sees how much he riles up the people. They all seem almost ready to take up arms, and it's only Dolga's voice booming through the room that stops them. "Friends," She begins. "I know that we all want the same things here, and much as we want someone to blame for this travesty, we need to suss ourselves out first. Going to war with the League won't do much good if the Torch is still out."
"The other suggestion is a good one - certainly we can work up a compensation for someone who can devour trash. Least until we get the fires going again." She admires Kon'Zu's build as he approaches her, and looks both amused and irritated as he kneels in front of her. "Enough of that. Get up. If you can do what you intend, you'll never bow to anyone again."
As more and more of you step forward, the townsfolk seem to grow not just excited, but relieved. Many of them were terrified at the notion of having to go, and seeing creatures volunteer such as a large Orc, a giant Troll, multiple mechs, and even a Dwemer filled them with hope. Looking at the group, it was easy to think, 'If they fail, what hope is there for the rest of us?'
With Goromatz and Changeling both bowing now, too, Dolga stands up, clearly uncomfortable. "Right then. We have our volunteers. Town Meeting dismissed. I shall call another in a few days when there is news. Thank you all for coming."
As the townsfolk begin to file out, she looks over you all one after another, measuring you up. "I had expected to be standing in front of children." She begins. "Many have already perished on this journey, and only a fool would think they could do differently." She grins. "Though that doesn't mean they'd be wrong. I was quite the fool once, too."
She gestures towards Atlas and Kon'Zu. "Konnir found something on his last expedition. Doesn't look like either of you, though. Val, Konnir's daughter, she said she'll close down the tavern so you can use it in the meanwhile. The Black Hill is dangerous and confusing, it may take multiple trips to find Konnir." She adds, muttering. "Especially with how far he must have gone to find that thing."
"You should see Val before you go, put her mind at ease. When you're ready, you'll want to see Joram Kyte, up at the Temple of Brigh. He'll show you where the caves are." She grimaces at the robots. "Hope you both can swim, since all our lives may depend on it."
"Got any questions or last requests?"
Has anyone tried to enter the hole where the fire once sprang forth? Perhaps we could reach the source faster by following its former path?
Atlas managed a great success with the townspeople. Which is both inspiring and utterly terrifying. The bot needed watching. And currently, someone needed to speak up before it did. Kon'Zu had started, so he would follow.
"Last requests? I think we'd have better odds if we assumed we were coming back, don't you? Too much cynicism will see us nowhere." He puts on a warm smile. "I do have a few things to ask, though. Are there any maps from the prior expedition? Is there anything we should expect, or preparations we should make? And is there anything other than Konnir and the Torch you'd deem important? I know there is little information available, but every bit helps.
Garl nods his approval.
"WE SHALL FIND YOUR WIZARD, TINY COUNCILLOR- FEAR NOT. WHEN WAS THE LAST SEARCH PARTY SENT? YOU SAY THEY DID NOT RETURN?"
Dolga shakes her head at Kon'Zu's question. "One of the expeditions of late tried going by the flame's path. Never seen again. Can't say for sure whether it goes the same place or not, but it's not the way Konnir went, and finding him is the primary objective."
"Mmm," She considers Atlas's request for a second. "Won't be up to me, but I don't think Val will have any objections. Especially if it means finding her father." She raises a hand and Kol runs to her side. "Inform Val that a group has formed. Let know also that they want to see the machine."
With a nod Kol of respect, first to her then to the group at large, Kol runs off.
She blinks at the loud noise of Garl's shouts, and then opens a small notebook. "Let's see... The flame went out eight days ago. Konnir went that very day, came back the next with the machine, and left again almost immediately. Two days went by without hearing, so we sent in the first rescue mission, a group of halfling adventures. We thought their size might be more beneficial in the caves, that maybe Konnir had gotten stuck."
With a sigh, she continues. "Two more days passed. With no word from the halflings, we grew desperate, and sent a group of thugs, thinking maybe someone more crafty, driven by greed, would be better suited. That was three days ago. Oh, there was another expedition that went in, too, that we did not sanction. They were a group from out of town, worshippers of Brigh. Also since missing."
"Last requests? I think we'd have better odds if we assumed we were coming back, don't you? Too much cynicism will see us nowhere." He puts on a warm smile. "I do have a few things to ask, though. Are there any maps from the prior expedition? Is there anything we should expect, or preparations we should make? And is there anything other than Konnir and the Torch you'd deem important? I know there is little information available, but every bit helps.
Dolga snorts at Changeling's optimism. "Boy, I've seen adventurers who explored crypts for longer than you've been alive taken out in an instant by a missed trap, and those were nothing compared to the mysteries underneath our feet here in Torch. The fact that you're asking me about what preparations to make tells me y'ain't ready for something like this. You want to come back alive, you gotta start asking the right questions. Questions like, "What did Konnir tell us in the hours between coming back from his first expedition and returning for his second?" or "How did he find the caves in the first place?"
As Kol returns and gives her a frown, she softens a bit, and takes a deep breath before letting out a heavy sigh. "Alright, kid, look. There's no maps. Konnir always said that if you couldn't navigate without one, you had no right being where you are. Those caves - Konnir found the entrance to them because there were footprints near a pond - all entering and none leaving. Going under the water, he found a tunnel that leads to the caves, and he found things living in there - strange people who could blend into shadows. The thing he brought back with him? He found it near a wall of solid skymetal deep in the caves. We mine skymetal from all over the plains, but he said it was formed into a structure here, with doors."
She gestures them to lean in closer. "Know what he found inside?" Her eyes flick between each of them meaningfully. "No, you don't. And neither do I. You wanna find him, and get your reward, and save the town, you'll do best to remember this: Ain't no one in the world has any idea what's down there, and with all my years adventuring, I'm willin' to bet I couldn't even imagine it. You want optimism, son? Here it is. There's a lot of magic still left in the world. And we might just live long enough to see it. But never, ever ignore the dangers. They won't ignore you."
Alive longer than me? Oh, if she only knew. Name anyone in this place's history, and I could tell her what they were like as an infant. From the point I started involving myself here, admittedly.
All Changeling does is shrug at her derision. "If you assume you will die, you will die. It is much harder to care about finding any traps or other threats if you believe it won't matter in the end anyway. That aside, I was only trying to learn if there were any peculiarities of the hill you knew of that I should be ready for. Which I did not ask the best questions for, admittedly."
The answers to his questions though, trouble him. "No maps isn't good. I see what Konnir means, but they would have at least been helpful to learn something about the internals of the hill before going in. I suppose we'll have make one ourselves. All it will take is one of us to deliver it should something happen. And I get the impression at least one of us will stay standing." He gestures to Atlas as he says this. Reckless as it was, the Mech was built to last. Otherwise, it wouldn't be here. "So, an underwater tunnel, people who can blend into shadow, and skymetal structures. And that's only the beginning. We have a job ahead of us."
"I understand. The most helpful assumption there is that there is danger lurking everywhere, whether you see it or not. And under the circumstances, I couldn't ignore that if I wanted to." If he did, Torch would suffer, and that wasn't happening. But he pushed that from his mind for now. They needed to start moving. "Does anyone have any more questions? If not, it's time we go see Val. She should at least know who the group is that are going in to find her father."
Garl nods, taking no offense from the councillor's tone. To live so long (and smaller than Garl even!) must have required a very tough outlook.
"I SHALL HAVE TO INQUIRE IF DAUGHTER VAL HAS ANYTHING OF HER FATHER'S- PERHAPS WITH HIS SCENT I CAN FIND HIS PATH WITH GREATER SPEED."
"BEFORE WE DESCEND, I ASK ONLY THAT ANY OF YOU THAT SURVIVE ME SHALL BRING ME BACK TO THE SURFACE WHERE MY SOUL MAY BE MORE SWIFTLY CARRIED ACROSS THE SKY. I, OF COURSE, WILL DO LIKEWISE FOR YOU.", he says solemnly.
|
|
Atlas nods at Garl.
Satisfied that he has honored the troll's request, he turns back to Dolga.
It seemed a target of easiest opportunity.
Atlas also nods at Changling, getting his gist.
He thinks on that for a moment. It say that it sounds ironic, but it also seemed appropriate, so he didn't comment on it further.