"We've killed giants before, not a problem. Killing them all before they can do much damage is the more important part."
Satinder continues, ”yes, that is my concern. Should I ask you to swear to me that you’ll minimize the destruction … or? The giants usually stay in the keep courtyard at night - they must have angered someone to have been sent outside of the city.”
She turns to Tinker, ”as for the wizard, his name is Imeckus Stroon. I believe he is related to the baroness, and came to Fort Drelev relatively recently, but he’s somewhat quiet. He has never come to the Velvet Glove, so I cannot assess much about him, but I know he is not to be trifled with.” She adds, ”that said, anyone who’s seen him with Drelev can tell he doesn’t respect the Baron very much. If you can talk to him there’s a chance he could be made to see reason - but you would have to spare his b$$&~ of a cousin - or whatever Pavetta is. She crossed me, and I would prefer to choke the life from her,” she adds, nonchalantly, ”but if you can take the pair off the board without bloodshed - my revenge can … wait.”
Tickroch's transformation from bird is done with little fanfare once the group is behind closed doors. "Obviously by disguise wasn't enough to avoid your eyes but then again it wasn't intended to fool you. In my flight around town I saw a camp to the north where the majority of giants stay when not patrolling with the guards."
"It's possible we could ambush the giants at their camp to minimize the damage to the town. I'm sure doing that will ruin any kind of surprise we currently have though."
"Castle first then, since they aren't allowed in there. Then push onto the camp quickly?" Vincent suggests. "As long as I have enough magic to fly I can deal with the giants from above and they'll have nothing they can do to me."
"Hm, so you know the Baroness personally, then? Anything we should know about her? Is she dangerous?"
Kisandra tightens her hands on the grip of her whip, ”like a fighter? No, not at all.” She looks down at Tinker, and she sighs, ”just a noblewoman with a little dog that barks a lot.”
"I can't fly, but I'm not necessarily afraid to go toe-to-toe with the giants if I have some support," says Donovan.
"Going to be invisible or incorporeal or something so that they can't hit you with thrown rocks?" he says to Vincent.
"Strike quickly to the heart destroying the cancerous git. Meaning secret door into the fort and kill Drelev inside. If an alaram is raised, my young friend here and any one else who wishes can distract the giants to minimize damage as the rest who cannot fly rush the normal way to help out." she looks to the others to see if they have any other plan.
Looking to Satinder "Unless you have access to an abundance of chemicals that would cause intestinal distress to the giants and access to their food?"
"Going to be invisible or incorporeal or something so that they can't hit you with thrown rocks?" he says to Vincent.
"Fireballs go a lot further than rocks!" The vampire says with a disturbingly happy expression. He turns his attention to Chrysa and nods, "It makes sense. Be as quick as we can and all should be well."
"How much alcohol does it take to make giants drunk?" asks Sootscale in response to Chrysa's suggestion. She looks to Satinder as if somehow she would know.
Satinder says, "I have some alcohol, but it is somewhat expensive and there isn't enough in my stocks to get one giant drunk, let alone eight."
She looks skeptically at Vincent, "do you have any other way to corral them or hurt them from afar? I don't think I should trust you with the secret entrance if that's your intention. There are still people here who don't deserve to die, burned alive or choking on smoke."
"I have more spells in my arsenal than you could even dream of!" Vincent snaps, more than a little frustrated at how the woman constantly underestimates him.
"Mum, I'm going to go and see these giant's for myself, instead of relying on rumors from a scared child."
With that the vampire turns and stalks off.
Tikrock watches the mage leave with a curious look. Short temper that one. Turning back to Satinder, "I think he means to burn them in their makeshift camp to the north, not in town. The giants on patrol will require a more precise solution. Secret entrance or no, we will need to cut out the heart of their leadership. It will just be more difficult and destructive without the knowledge."
She shakes her head, ”I can heal you and will let you stay here, but I won’t put myself or my staff at risk, or the other people in town, if you haven’t dealt with the giants. They will kill all of us if Drelev dies. And that means doing so without burning down the town.”
She notes, ”the giants in the camp are not always there, sometimes they guard the keep courtyard as well. Getting them drunk is a possibility though, we just need a lot of beer and a plan. The ones patrolling in town during the day rotate out periodically, you could also try catching all of them together during a shift change.”
"Don't worry, we've dealt with giants before!" says Tinker/Sootscale confidently. Of course, Vincent did set a few buildings on fire, he think to himself, recalling the defense of Tatzlford. Surely they had learned from that experience, though.
"A bit of scouting might be best," he continues, essentially agreeing with Vincent if more diplomatically. "Watch their patterns, see when they gather. Maybe they all eat together sometimes? Or if not, we could help gather them together, if they all decide they want some free beer."
"Well we can't get them drunk if there isn't enough in town for them to get drunk on. An enchanted spring of mead would be Something, but without it and supplies we have Nothing." Mum flings her arms around in mock catastrophic failure. She does look out toward the retreating Vincent. She, of course, doesn't give a flying fig about these people, and is pretty sure if she tortured this brothel queen she'd spill the secret way in with ease... but then they would have to kill her, and that Knight might object, then there would be a battle and... ugh...
Chrysa pauses for a moment, worried about her train of thought. Was it being too long in this fleshy other body causing her oddities or the child in her belly?
"Fiddlestickes and Folly!" she hissed, then realized she spoke that odd expression out loud. "Okay, either we have means of befuddling them or we are stuck with waiting for the shift change and slaughtering them all like giant babies..." she paused again, worried her analogy might offend the bundle of growth inside her. While most giants did remind her of dumb needful babies, she knew her baby was already brilliant, strong, and beautiful. So no resemblance whatsoever. "... so scouting and planning, while our holder of secrets tries to buy every single drop of intoxication this fort has?" inwardly she thinks the cost should fall on the one that WANTS to save the people.
She nods, ”maybe in the inn? I didn’t say that there wasn’t enough alcohol for that, just that I don’t have it. The innkeeper left in a hurry, and he was a good sort that bought in bulk. Maybe he had a few barrels in the basement.”
She opens her hands up, ”and if you ask around the town, maybe people will give you what they have. Tomorrow I can make a few gallons of cheap ale as well, if I prepare for it. Perhaps one of you is an adept at the magic of alcohol manufacturing too.”
She holds up a finger, ”as an alternative, you could also try bribing the giants somehow, or convincing them to leave. They aren’t as stupid as typical hill giants, and seem to have enough discipline to not immediately eat or bash everything they see. I don’t know though.”
Vincent is able to avoid the patrols with some ease, and gets to the edge of the northern wall of the wooden palisade, where some trees and bushes are. The weather in the area is typically relatively warm, so there are no camps, and two of the giants seem to be wrestling or something, while the other three are watching and cheering. They kick up great plumes of dirt when they do so, and have bruised each other slightly but seem somewhat restrained in the process.
There’s a pile of oddities in the center which looks like a wagering pool. There are a few barrels nearby, and their giant bags are resting on the ground near them. The camp seems to be tidy.
One of them, a little bigger than the others, seems to be watching the pair carefully. Periodically he shoves one next to him and points at the pair, and this second giant looks at him mournfully and nods.
Watching the giants from his concealed position Vincent carefully runs through what he knows of them and their society.
Typical hill giant society:
Hill giant tribes are largely nomadic, and claim their meager settlements like most other things they do: loudly, lazily, and with surprising swiftness. Granted, “settlement” is a generous word for the places they dump their belongings for a few months. Dwellings consist mostly of found shelters like caves and captured wagons, though in the warm season hill giants occasionally spread animal pelts across trees to act as hammocks on fair nights and roofs in the rain. A chieftain often forces her tribe to build her a private shelter in which to sleep and guard the tribe’s treasures. These crude structures typically consist of little more than shabbily constructed huts built over large mud holes. Treasures are tossed in the hole, beside which the chieftain makes her crude bed on the rough ground; whatever family members the chieftain trusts are sometimes permitted to sleep in the shanty as well.
Among the highly fertile and promiscuous hill giants, family ties are complicated. Though hill giants openly practice polygamous and often incestuous partnerships, they nonetheless remain somewhat territorial regarding their favored mates. Only in the case of the chieftain is such covetousness allowed; any other members of the tribe who show signs of possessiveness over a mate are quickly reprimanded by their peers. The responsibility of taking care of hill giant children largely falls upon the women of the tribe, who nonetheless remain blundering and neglectful in their duties, a contributing factor to the high infant mortality rate among hill giants.
Though births are common in even small tribes, the arrival of a living hill giant baby is often marked with a great feast. The feast is not a celebration of birth, but rather a measurement of the tribe’s resources as the giants make preparations for another mouth to feed. If the tribe still has an abundant store or reliable source of food after the feast, the baby is celebrated and ritualistically scarified to symbolize its allegiance to the tribe. If after the meal the chieftain determines the tribe cannot sustain another member, the baby is killed. The chieftain kills the baby publicly to remind the tribe that its future depends on the hunt, and the corpse is used as bait to attract game so the tribe might have more food when the next child is born. This brutal tradition is often so ingrained in hill giant society that the mothers of sacrificed children hardly bat an eye at the barbaric act, and all accept the ceremony as a necessary part of hill giant life, oftentimes reveling in the bloodshed.
Hill giants hold strength above all other concepts, and learn to respect brawn early in their lives. Shows of strength need not necessarily entail spilt blood, and in raids or conflicts hill giants know that accepting the surrender of others can be as beneficial to the tribe as slaughtering such opponents. Rivals who surrender often regret their decision, as most victims are captured and taken back to the hill giant encampment as slaves, where they are forced to build structures, grow food, and commingle to produce even more servants for their ruthless masters. Hill giants apply their simple ideals to what they look for in a slave, and when possible take back only the strongest specimens. Even though their greatest need is for laborers in large numbers, hill giant tribes particularly enjoy enslaving enemy warriors for use in their own battles. Such enslaved fighters are the first to be sacrificed in frontal assaults and hastily planned raids, and are often set loose as distractions before the tribe makes a more organized attack. Slaves who show their prowess in the fight and manage to live through more than a couple battles may eventually be adopted into the hill giant tribe, though such instances are incredibly rare, and few non-hill giants desire such an allegiance. If a creature showcases power other than strength, such as spectacular magic or cunning tactics, hill giants give the captive no more respect than any other creature of like physical prowess, and set it to work as a common laborer.
Hill giants are barely more intelligent than animals, and their animalistic nature is particularly evident in battle. They intimidate opponents with bearlike posturing, and possess wolflike tactics, often chasing their victims for a short time to wear them down before killing them. It is perhaps unsurprising, then, that hill giants commonly raise wolves as hunting companions, as well as other beasts native to the region that prove both loyal and useful.
Religion is a relatively unimportant fixture in hill giant society, though each tribe tends to have its own origin story. Those tribes that do practice religion usually do so in the form of shamanism or through primitive superstitions, and many make living sacrifices to their brutal gods.
Particularly independent and wise hill giants have been known to stray from their tribes, seeking something more to life than the brutal and meaningless destruction inherent within the hill giant tribal structure. Such hill giants either wander for the rest of their days as dreamy loners or eventually come into contact with more peaceful races of humanoids; in the latter case, such reformed hill giants may adapt the habits of their new allies, and some individuals have even managed to rise completely above the baser desires of other members of their race. Among other hill giants, independent-minded loners of this sort are shunned at best and hunted down at worst, and a hill giant seen associating with the “puny races” is regarded as worse than a traitor by members of his old tribe.
Hill Giant Chieftains
Occasionally, a hill giant is born with a better head for survival than the rest of his peers. He sees his tribe as both an advantage and a liability, and understands what decisions must be made to ensure the survival of the tribe, as well as how to direct his people’s unabashed violence into productive raids and attacks. Such natural-born leaders are usually destined to become their tribes’ chieftains.
Hill giant chieftains are not elected. More often than not, a chieftain is named simply because he is the strongest tribe member and because he claimed the title. His word becomes law, and is generally adhered to out of convenience, for those who disagree with the chieftain are also often the first ones culled from the tribe during food shortages. Tribes without chieftains exist, but tend to be poorly organized and even more barbaric than most hill giant tribes. When another member of the tribe thinks she can do a better job of leading (or simply wants the privileges afforded the chieftain, including the most food and first pick from among potential mates), the two brawl to the death for supremacy.
Hill giant tribes are generally too self-destructive and chaotic to establish any sort of government for more than a generation, but under the leadership of a particularly gifted chieftain, a hill giant tribe might come to dominate a small swath of hills or a valley.
************
These giants seem different, and Vincent is smart enough to deduce that 1) normally hill giants wouldn’t “work” for a human (the giant in Gliocas is notably gentle and calm, but he’s just one giant), 2) the nature of the camp is tidy and less chaotic than a typical hill giant camp, even a temporary one, 3) the largest one is probably the leader, and the one they shoved is probably their child, and 4) the fight they’re having looks more like practice than anything deadly, which is atypical.
He also observes that these giants have also well-kept weapons, and armor, and seem fleet of foot, more than a typical hill giant.
Vincent stays to watch the giants for some time, trying to make sense of their actions as best he can. Besides, he has no inclination to return to the brothel either so he waits, watches and ponders until he's satisfied that he's seen everything worth seeing.
"The longer we take, the greater chance of risk... but we can try out the inn, since is abandoned. Some potential is better than none." looking at their 'gnome' she asks "Is there anything quick that you could do to make the drink either extra powerful or something that would make them sick or sleepy?"
She nods, ”please come back with any updates. I’ll be here.” She ushers everyone out of the office and nods to the bartender, who gestures roughly and the servers drop a gold coin into the hands of all of the mercenaries. The party leaves
A few minutes of sneaking later, the party gets to the abandoned inn. The front door is locked and the windows appear to be boarded up on the inside. The back door is similarly boarded up and closed. Tikroch and Sootscale get the impression that whomever owned the place left in a hurry, and tried to avoid making too many tracks.
Vincent gets the impression that they are bored, and that the parental figure is trying to teach the younger one something. After a while the older one says, ”grelshman!” in gravelly giant, and the wrestlers abate, breathing heavily. He points at the one who seemed to be doing best, and says, ”sholaamn, goovin nee raskhen,” and the other looks disappointed and then sits down. The younger one stands up and cracks his knuckles and then approaches the apparent victor, who springs on him, and starts pummeling him. The older one looks disappointed and shouts at his child, ”grelve! Grelve non-kooblish! Grelve!” but the stronger giant is very strong and overpowers him. The younger one is stubborn though, and claws and scratches, eventually grabbing a handful of dirt and flinging it into the stronger giant’s eyes, and kicking him in the privates when he is disoriented. This knocks the wind out of the more powerful wrestler, who gasps for a moment, heaving, and doubles over. The kid scrambles back, breathing heavily, and looks back at his parent for approval, and the chieftain nods, though he doesn’t smile.
He frowns at the one doubled over and harshly says, ”zyrol, wourin nee ulin, chromblieh.” And the stronger wrestler stands unsteadily. The chief walks over to him and cuffs him on the shoulder, and then looks at all of them and raises his hands, ”lelch som mingloss, wounlish nee mingloss. Drombish!” And they gather their bags and move to some large trees they felled, retrieving what could best be described as ‘lunch’. Food which seems like barely seared half-pigs, entire roasted chickens on skewers, and the like. The large one retrieves half of a cow, and starts munching on it, and the giants talk amongst themselves quietly for a little while, eating more messily than a human, but much less messily than a hill giant. There don’t seem to be any humanoids that any eat.
After a short while, two of the giants move towards the stand of trees to the north and start working on uprooting them, while the others take out enormous, lumpy bedrolls and rest. Once the two trees are uprooted, the giants work on stripping the bark and splitting the logs for a while, until they have enough to put in a large pile near the town entrance.
Vincent watches, makes a mental note to learn some giant as soon as he can and then, once the giants fall asleep, departs. This would clearly be the time to attack them if that was his goal but, for the moment at least, it isn't.
So he wanders back into town, keeping his eyes and ears open. No doubt his companions will be getting into trouble somewhere.
At the back door Tikroch shrugs and points out, "Still need to get in right? Unless Mum has some sneaky way in, I can probably just pull this barricade off."
Figuring the armored priest is the next strongest he asks "Donovan, want to give me a hand?" He casts a spell asking the spirits for assistance and pulls.
"The longer we take, the greater chance of risk... but we can try out the inn, since is abandoned. Some potential is better than none." looking at their 'gnome' she asks "Is there anything quick that you could do to make the drink either extra powerful or something that would make them sick or sleepy?"
"Hm, would take time, but Tinker can make extra-strong ale, maybe with some extra sleeping reagent!" It seems that Sootscale has not given up on identifying himself in the third person, even in disguise. "Maybe grand reopening of closed inn?"
* * *
Once at the inn, Sootscale simply nods at Tikroch's offer to pull down the barricade.
"Sneaky? Me?" Mum says with mock offense. Her eyes track around to look for witnesses since it is broad daylight (right?). "Can you rip boards off without making much noise?"
"Let me try the quiet way first. Make a wall of people shield with yourself, and one second..." the dark haired woman kneels down with two picks, wiggling, waggling, and then pop opens the weasal.
The front door opens with a click, and the dark inn becomes lit with the early afternoon light, and the humans take a moment to adjust. The non humans acclimate quickly and see a tavern of decent quality with the chairs on the tables and rows of empty bottles behind the bar. There doesn’t seem to be much dust, indicating that the owner left within the last few weeks at most. There are some doors which lead to what must be a kitchen, some privies, and possibly some to hallway spaces on the first floor. A staircase on the side likely leads to the lodging space of the inn.
The party shuffles in quickly, and shuts the door, conjuring weak light so all can see a little better. The floor creaks a bit as the abandoned inn seems to complain at being woken up from a deep rest.
When Vincent finally finishes gathering his information, he heads back towards the center of town, careful to avoid any patrols. By the time he’s back towards the Velvet Glove, there’s no sign of the others.
"Okay, quick and quiet, find any libations you can." Mum starts to look around her own too, casting quick detection of magic spells just in case. She'll keep an eye out for a cellar since that is where she thinks barrels would be.
Having exactly zero intention of going back into the Velvet Glove Vincent opts for the next best tactic, which is to skulk around town until he hears someone breaking something or sees a plume of smoke in the distance - either of those things should tell him where his companions are. If that doesn't work he can always resort to a scrying spell.
Donovan draws his blade and keeps an eye out for any response to the party's rummaging around the inn. He stays as quiet as he can, which mostly means standing very still so that his armor doesn't make metal-scraping noises.
As the door is quickly popped open Tikroch thinks Hmmm, skillfully done. She should be a useful ally.
Seeing the cellar is being checked by Mum, Tik starts his search behind the bar and in the kitchen area.
Chrysa sees one of the piano keys in the corner moving up and down, and hears a soft note playing, very quietly, over and over.
Sootscale gets Chrysa to give him Mage Armor (using his own wand) and drinks his mutagen before entering the inn. He may or may not notice the piano key and sound. If he does not, his immediate instinct is to start looking for beer making supplies.
The soft tinkling of piano keys sets Chrysa's mind into random directions. Initially all she can think about it setting the inn on fire and RUNNING, but then equally as powerful is deciding it must be a ghost child needing a hug.
Inwardly she screams What In the Hells!!! at her own mental mess. Outwardly, she whispers to the others to let them know about the keys before she casts detect magic.
Needing extra speed, Tikroch casts a quick charm and moves to the stairs to assist Mum with the apparently haunted piano. Considering what he knows about haunted pianos he says, "Not really sure how I can help but I'll be on hand to pull people out if this simple search goes sideways." At the top of the stairs he casts a similar charm to Mum and scans for magical auras.
"Huh?" says Sootscale simply when the piano is pointed out to him. He just keeps an eye out for trouble.
There looks like there may be a door to the cellar.
A shrinking violet is not a Mum, so this Mum approaches the piano, with a smirk hiding an abundance of care.
Mum does not hear any mechanical devices. She looks at it to see if it’s trapped, and sees nothing.
Seeing that nothing happens to Mum as she approaches the piano, Tikroch resumes searching for anything behind the bar or in any "employee only" areas. Figuring this is a good a place as any, he also pulls out Luca's figurine, places it on the ground, and speaks the command word to reform him into a living being. Tikroch gives his companion some scratches on his neck before giving him the command to search for anything hiding from the group.
The key is irritatingly annoyingly Something, so if she hasn't already, she lifts the back part of the piano (assuming there is one), with her sword, not her hand, waits a moment to see if anything flies out, and then peers in.
When she touches the piano, there is a blindingly white light, and the interior of the in changes dramatically. Instead of a quiet place, the, tavern floor is alive with activity. Servers move back and forth. The tavern keep is a jovial older man, and he’s chatting with some patrons seated at the bar. Tables that moments ago had nobody, have patrons seated in quiet conversation. The booths at the edges have patrons in quiet conversation. Some have faces shrouded in shadow by broad hats, others wear veils and masks. The windows appear to be open instead of shuttered now, but there is no light from outside, other than dim lamp light at most. There is a stout iron steeple above the bar. The smell of roasting potatoes and meat comes from the open kitchen, where a number of folks are working on preparing a meal.
The innkeep looks up, ”well - hello! Welcome to the Iron Steeple - the finest inn in the slough. What can we do for you? A room maybe? A drink? Or maybe you want to tuck in some meat and potatoes?” His plump, ruddy cheeks glow with cheer as he smiles, belying the wrinkles around his eyes. The question is directed at everyone seemingly.
Chrysa notices that the piano is being played now, by a translucent grey-tinted woman in a long dress. She also smiles at Chrysa, though there is obvious pain in her eyes. The tune she plays is merry and jaunty, and the spirits of everyone in the place seem as raised as they can.
The innkeep chuckles as he sees Chrysa look at the piano, ”oh, don’t mind Tess, she… well, she came with the piano, as far as I can tell. Doesn’t speak much but she’s a heck of a player, and she makes everyone feel right at home.” This much seems true enough, He continues, ”name’s Benj, where are my manners… pull up a seat, rest your bones, and someone will help you shortly.” He goes back to chatting with the folks at the bar, seemingly telling an expressive story which makes them laugh.
Vincent looks around the town carefully, but can’t find the others in the party.
Vincent isn't in a rush and hates using magic he doesn't have to, so he continues with mundane search methods.
As soon as the inn changes, Tikroch calls Luca back to his side both to make sure he's safe and to make sure he doesn't do anything on instinct.
He slowly moves towards an open chair trying to play along with... whatever is going on here. With Luca at his side, he makes for an odd figure being both bigger than most people and the obvious large dino following him. "Thank you for the warm welcome. This may be a dumb question but, uhh.., what is the name of this town?"
Sootscale is extremely confused as the scene around him seems to change. He looks to his companions. "This is just illusion, right? Must be illusion." He literally pinches himself to see if it hurts (as opposed to him being stuck in some weird dream state).
Sootscale notes curiously that he appears to be a kobold here. Nobody looks at him with special malice.
However, for whatever reason, Mum remains looking like Mum.
Sootscale touches a table lightly, and it feels real enough.
Mum can't take her eyes off the pain in the pianist's eyes. Because of it, the innkeeper's banter is barely registered. Instead, she leans against the piano, listening to the song, letting the sorrow of it (yes sorrow), wash over her.
"You miss them, don't you Tess? I understand. I've lost those I loved, too many in truth, and it is all I can do to keep hold of the few I have left. So tight I grab and hold onto, SO Hard I cling, but..." the voice of Mum is different, not the tone, but the manner. Chrysa is slipping through. "Can... I help at all?" honestly wishing to, for once.
Donovan cranes his head back and forth around the room as the change washes over, then slowly angles his sword back into its sheath and slides it home quietly. No sense getting the locals riled up over having a bared weapon.