Right then, so we'll gather some wine and cheese for his dragonness, and if that fails we'll have lunch for after! Stay left, aim left.... Brandt carefully considers how much wine would be good for a dragon, and realizes its probably a lot more than he thinks it is.
"I dare say they're his greatest passion - at least the one that he's never lost interest in. Over the decades, he has made frequent flights into Kyonin to acquire elven wines to add to his collection. Meanwhile, one of the reasons he deigned to settle in this region, if only for a while, was the great variety of cheese produced nearby. That makes it all the more ironic that he would raze villages that once produced his favorites."
"I hope we can help him find his way back to sanity again," The cleric sighs, "Beauty can appeal to the tongue as well as the eye. Mostly it's a matter of the heart. If we can help him find his old self, his better self, all the better. I am so sorry for the tragedy that has befallen the three of you but at least you will be reunited with your child."
Brandt's comment about wine makes him smile, albeit weakly, "Several barrel worth might do it? Strong wine though."
Winin' an' dinin' ah Dragon! Tha yarn jus' keeps spoolin'! In sort of a daze at the turn of events (and the current lack of claws and fangs trying to rend his limbs), Booker is happy to let the others rub elbows with the Dragon before they set out again.
Christian nods his thanks to the dragon and ponders what has happened here.
Dragons...Not one but two dragons...and copper not red...are the gods trying to tell me something? If this Mercifax has a sword...I am going to piss myself
The nobleman watches the lands around them as the continues north.
At the mention of Mercifax's eye injury, Syretia's hand moves unconsciously to her face. After only a moment, though, she becomes aware of the movement and pulls it away. She quickly looks down to hide the reddening of her face.
She's unusually quiet for much of the rest of the day, though she does smile a bit at the discussion on how best to wine a dragon.
Before the party departs, Apothyl offers both her thanks and her apologies.
"Our paths diverge here, if only for now. I must go south, to your village, and find my child. I need to see them safe and have them near me.
I will meet up with you again in the north, as you look for Mercifax," she promises. "If I can show him our child is safe, it may be our best chance to pull him back from his madness."
"Wait, Lady Apothyl, you should take a letter of identification to show Sapphira and any guards. That the egg is yours should be obvious, but we want to make sure there's no misunderstanding." He takes out a paper and ink writing a brief summary explaining THIS Dragon is a friend and the situation. "Lord Christian, would you or anyone else here wish to sign this as well?"
Assuming the dragon and others agree, he will with a bit of string or whatever the she-dragon prefers , help fasten it to her as securely as possible, "Shelyn be with you in your flight, for you travel for a love most dear. Mother and child reunited."
I've prepared a spell to send a brief message to our agent at home. Apothyl, you should know, Sapphira is a, um, she's not strictly human; but means well and is trustworthy. So don't judge the book by its cover. I'll ask her to light a campfire outside the city this night and meet you with your child.
Brandt withdraws a few seeds from a pouch, touches his bronze holy symbol, and a small songbird alights on his hand. He whispers to the small bird, Go to the south, new human nesting ground. Look for the big human nest with the thatched roof and go inside.
Quickly scribing a note to Sapphira he attaches it to the songbird with a brightly colored string, before releasing it to the wind.
Sapphira, We're handling the Dragon situation best we can. We found the mother, please bring the egg out the back way in and light a campfire tonight. She'll look for you. Headed to Oleg's be back soon.
Booker wrings his hands as the others tie up the loose ends with Apothyl. Do I jus' ask 'er if I can come along? Ridin' ah Dragon... Bet I'd be tha foyst Halfling tah do that! But I dunno 'ow ah Dragon is gonna take tha request. Don't wan' 'er tah think that I think she's ah horse er nuthin'! AW CRIPES, THERE SHE GOES!
Distraught, the Halfling reaches after the Copper Dragon when she takes flight. Stomping his little feet, he crosses his arms and sulks for a moment. Shoulda, coulda, woulda. Maybe aftah she's 'ad some time with 'er kid, I'll 'ave ah real chance at it.
A small, barely audible sound escapes Apothyl's mouth, suggesting that she is impressed by Brandt's subtle display of magic. Of course, this is overshadowed by the gratitude she feels for the unsolicited aid that the party has provided. With the ranger's avian messenger preceding her, the draconic mother takes wing and ascends into the southern sky.
Meanwhile, the party presses northwards. By the time the daylight wanes, you can spot the end of the Kamelands ahead: the smaller hills giving way to the wide open, rolling Rostland Plains. The northernmost arm of the Narlmarches presses closer on your left.
Peering from atop Hrimfaxi the ranger stands in his stirrups before removing a well-folded piece of paper from his pouch. Peering to the west, he lowers himself back on his saddle and turns to face the party.
We're making good time, I think in looking at the maps we've got, there should be a radish patch in the woods just to the west of here. Both a good spot to camp, and could be well-used to help feed the refugees at Oleg's. Looking to Christian and the others, Should we head there, camp for the night, and then we can make it to Oleg's tomorrow, probably by midday?
The Ulfen tucks the folded map back away safely into his pouch, and looks to the western trees, as if trying to discern where the radish patch may be in relation to their current location. I think it's over there, the ranger says, pointing toward a small break in the treeline. Or close by there.
"My mind is still reeling from the events playing before us with dragons no less," Bydar admits to Brandt "What I WANT to do is race to the survivors and heal them as quickly as possible. However, they might indeed need food." He fingers the newly acquired ring , and he gives a look to the others as well.
"It does the survivors no good if we rush through the night and one of you breaks your ankle in the darkness," Syretia says, shaking her head.
Radishes might just be the Marmilade's new marmalade! Booker nods his head enthusiastically. "Yeah, wouldn' want any ah yous break sumthin', why don' we scrounge aroun' fer some food an' travel safely in tha mornin'?" he suggests in agreement. "I bet tha wounded'll make it through tha night an' be all tha more grateful fer tha food we can bring 'em!"
As the groups watches the dragon take flight, Christian looks to the ground that was before them. Kneeling down, the mercenary leader picks up some dirt. Dumping it into a small leather bag. Taking the light source, he walks back into the cave to retrieve stones from within. Picking up some that look to have blood on them and placing them into the same bag as the dirt. Smiling slightly he looks to those that speak Draconic.
What are the words for Copper Dragon meeting in Draconic?
At hearing the words...
Rach Darastrix tafiafir...a bit of a mouthful but that is what it is.
Christian nods at Brand as he talks of the radishes.
We take what we can carry but do not deplete the source. This will be a good source of food if they need more in the future.
The young lord looks to the west and to the woods.
Brandt...lead the way.
Christian lets his eyes roam around the group.
I understand that all of you want to help those in need and we will...but we have do this smart. We will get there as fast as we can while limiting the risks.
A look of understanding and concern washes over his face. Then settles in with a bit of pain and guilt.
I get it...I do. It pains me every minute that we are not there to lend our aid. I do not want those suffering to do so any longer than is needed. We will get there as soon as we can.
Bydar nods seeing everyone's point "Aye, aye. I thank you for understanding, and yes, no point in wasting Shelyn's healing on consequences of my impatience rather than those that need it." A look at them, "While we search for food for them, I might bring up something a bit more ... mundane. At least compared to dragons. It's about this ring" He flashes the same one Lord Christian looked at earlier and that Bydar himself temporarily at least has in custody "This symbol, I recognize it. The Redshields, a merchant house that grew out of servants, soldiers, and artisans from the employ of House Rogarvia who did not become folded into House Surtova or the other noble houses. I know of them because of their patronage of the arts, but rather than an act of philanthropy, this is widely regarded as an attempt to earn influence and respect with the ultimate goal of becoming an officially recognized noble house in Brevoy."
He goes on "The ring might be worth more as a diplomatic offering to the Redshields to draw their business to the Stolen Lands. I find their missing the point of art to further ambition a bit sad, but I suppose there are worse failings. What do you think of seeing where such an invitation might lead? It could lead to some headaches but it might also help our people at least in areas of trade."
Despite the waning light, between the map and Brandt's guidance the party finds the radish patch before nightfall. Although it is not far into the forest, it is surrounded by dense stands of trees interwoven with thickets and nettles. Once you find a safe passage through, you discover the arrowhead-shaped clearing where the moon radishes grow.
You are not alone.
Even among the long shadows cast by sunset, their pitiful moans would give away their presence. Once a little more light is shed upon the clearing, you find a quartet of kobolds lying on their backs, moaning in pain. Three wicker baskets overflowing with radishes sit nearby.
Bydar sees them groaning, and blinks. Kobolds are still new to him, but he knows pain, and he does have a kind heart.
he tries to gauge what is wrong, though he has a suspicion
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Hearing what must be pain, Booker crouches low and lets his eyes soak up the surroundings. We ain't walkin' intah ah trap! Not on my watch we ain't!
He cups a hand over his ear and lunges out to one side, before repeating the stance on the other.
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"This symbol, I recognize it. The Redshields, a merchant house that grew out of servants, soldiers, and artisans from the employ of House Rogarvia who did not become folded into House Surtova or the other noble houses.
Christian's eyes go wide with surprise.
He does not hide it and waits to speak.
I know of them because of their patronage of the arts, but rather than an act of philanthropy, this is widely regarded as an attempt to earn influence and respect with the ultimate goal of becoming an officially recognized noble house in Brevoy."[/B]"The ring might be worth more as a diplomatic offering to the Redshields to draw their business to the Stolen Lands. I find their missing the point of art to further ambition a bit sad, but I suppose there are worse failings. What do you think of seeing where such an invitation might lead? It could lead to some headaches but it might also help our people at least in areas of trade."
Of Houuse Rogarvia you say...now that is interesting. I had not known anyone was strong enough to withstand the loss of such a powerful patron. I am sure that they had some tough decisions to make in order to not be absorbed by force. A delicate line they walked.
Christian ponders for a moment.
It does no harm for us to be associate with a house that has no patron...but...the benefits that could be had by both us and them could prove very useful. Especially if they have connections in Brevoy that can be used to help our citizens.
He looks to the others...
Once we are finished with the immediate business at hand...it would not hurt to reach out to them. We will be in the area since we need to stop by the church Abadar.
Christian's eyes go wide with surprise.
He does not hide it and waits to speak.Of Houuse Rogarvia you say...now that is interesting. I had not known anyone was strong enough to withstand the loss of such a powerful patron. I am sure that they had some tough decisions to make in order to not be absorbed by force. A delicate line they walked.
Christian ponders for a moment.
It does no harm for us to be associate with a house that has no patron...but...the benefits that could be had by both us and them could prove very useful. Especially if they have connections in Brevoy that can be used to help our citizens.He looks to the others...
Once we are finished with the immediate business at hand...it would not hurt to reach out to them. We will be in the area since we need to stop by the church Abadar.
He nods at this, "I am not sure where House Lebeda , my own kin, stand on them. The Redshields would hardly be the only ones in Brevoy hoping to rise to noble status, but here in the stolen lands perhaps they could earn recognition Brevoy is not so eager to grant. I do not know how much we can trust them, but you are right to point out the benefits to our people." a nod "Then this ring may not be with us for long. A small price to pay for diplomacy if it pans out." He looks at the others, " Any other views?" He does not wish to neglect the opinions of any of his fellows
"If they're looking to spend money on creative pursuits in exchange for clout," Syretia says with a smirk, "we may not have as much as they hope for. But I certainly welcome it, with the hopes that we can teach them to appreciate art for its own sake, and not just as a means to power."
Brandt nods at Bydar and Christian, I think this can definitely be of value to us, and they could be a major ally in getting the fame of Charis out there. Smiling, Brandt settles onto his horse.
Even among the long shadows cast by sunset, their pitiful moans would give away their presence. Once a little more light is shed upon the clearing, you find a quartet of kobolds lying on their backs, moaning in pain. Three wicker baskets overflowing with radishes sit nearby.
Christian nods to the others.
Well if this is going to be a trap...lets spring it. Let us hope they are from our friends to the south.Nodding to both Bydar and Syretia.
Would one of you translate please.
He dismounts and steps closer to the Kobolds.
Hail and well met. We are hoping to pick some radishes to take with us and we could not help but here your discomfort. Are you in need of assistance?
Bydar translates as requested.
Even as he tries to figure out if it's bellyache from eating too much, or truly poison
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Even if you had forgotten previously seeing the emblem upon the ring, you remember hearing the name of the Redshield Coster in your youth. Your father, Lepio, would curse their name. Following the Vanishing, when these former vassals and employees of House Rogarvia first established their own independent organization, they extended an offer of patronage to Lepio.
He refused the offer, hoping to prove his loyalty to House Surtova and repair his suddenly tenuous relationship with his longtime patrons.
You don't recall hearing much more about them after, since you were soon caught up in your newfound magical gifts and tutelage.
Bydar can readily identify that these kobolds are suffering from mere bellyaches, having clearly eaten too many radishes. Their feeble moans in Draconic further confirm this diagnosis.
They struggle to rise and confront the new arrivals but soon give up and remain on the ground.
Rather than requesting any assistance, they weakly demand to know who you are.
Syretia tries to suppress a giggle upon hearing the official diagnosis and, in Common, whispers "Aren't they adorable? They've practically eaten themselves into a stupor."
Christian smiles slightly as Syretia whispered words.
My name is Christian..friend and ally of...
...tribe to the south. My companions and I are traveling north and stop by here for some food. I see that you too enjoy the radishes here. Do you mind if we collect what we need. We will not bother you.
With his smile on his face his eyes warn the others to be prepared.
His hand is ready to act if the need should arise.
I am hoping that these are of the same tribe and not enemies.
And Bydar does translate, again, and fights a smile at Syretia's a giggle.
He says to her to her, "In their defense, they probably ARE discomforted from being stuffed. I don't suppose anyone has the makings for Peppermint tea? Old remedy for glutting yourself I hear."
Brandt puts his hand over his face as if to stroke his beard, but in reality he's just covering a grin, keeping his hand there he whispers to the others, Once they aren't a threat, I can see if I can find some peppermint growing wild in these parts.
Brandt's other hand strays toward the warhammer on his hip, just in case of threat from the kobolds. Although sensing their willingness to talk, he instead hooks his thumb into the belt loop holding the hammer.
With all the talking and conern surrounding the Kobolds, Booker quickly sets himself to the task of plucking any turnips from the ground. Classic Halfling task this is, plucking root veg! We gotta lotta work tah do if we're gonna be rollin' intah town ready tah feed it, but I gotta get some fer tha Marmilades too...
Squatting reeeal low, he places two hands at the base of a radish's leafy stalks. Wiggling his tush to find the sweet spot, he strains against the earth's grip, eventually standing upright and showering dirt everywhere. Raising the vegetable in the air triumphantly, he spins it in one hand and makes a fist with the other, goading an invisible crowd of adoring fans. Clumps of dirt shower all over him and anyone nearby.
This process repeats itself... every... single... turnip.
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One of the kobolds giggles as he watches Booker's dirty spectacle, although the exertion soon leads to more groans of pain.
Through translation of their Draconic, the radish-picking kobolds explain that they are former members of the Sootscales to the south. When they returned to find their tribe devastated, they decided to set off on their own and start a new tribe.
One of them struggles to his feet. He claps his hands around his hips, looking for a weapon, but soon realizes he left it on the other side of the clearing. With something between a groan and a sigh, he declares that the radishes belong to them and that you cannot have any.
Brandt watches the translation between Bydar and the rest of the party with increasing incredulity. Brandt decides though that Christian, Bydar, and Syretia have it under control. He wanders over to Orlogg, and continues to watch Booker's interesting method for harvesting radishes from the ground.
Leaning into the dwarf, Brandt says, Some strange things which happen to us, eh? Between three overstuffed kobolds and our own overzealous halfling harvester, I don't know which is funnier. Brandt seems relaxed, but coiled like a spring should the kobolds mistakenly believe violence is the answer.
Bydar translates then he blinks at the Radish hoarding kobold and then says in Draconic (Draconic) "You should rejoin the other survivors under the new chief and help them make the new tribe stronger. We are their allies and then would be yours as well. But we do need food to help members of OUR tribe who are hungry. Please, in the name of helping your allies and thus helping other kobolds won't you reconsider and share?"
Leaning in close to Booker.
Do not take them all...please...
Christian nods at the cleric as he explains the situation. He lends his voice in hopes of flavoring Bydar's words towards the kobolds.
My friend is correct in that we are in need of these radishes. You are far away from your old tribe. A good distance indeed and one fret with dangers. I am impressed that you traveled all this way on your own. We are in need of these radishes...perhaps we can talk and work something out.
Seeing the Kobold's stance, his lack of weapon and his struggles with simply standing.
It is never easy...alright here we go
Christian steps closer to the bold Kobold.
What is your name and of what tribe do you belong to now?
Looking from the Kobold to his belt, Christian keeps his hands at his side.
Where does this new tribe reside? I only ask because if we are going to open diplomatic relations with a New Kobold tribe then it would be best to know all there is to know. I may even be able to offer the same treaty we gave your old tribe...but that would depend on what you have to offer.
He smiles at the kobold in a disarming fashion.
I see several things at your advantage right now. You are here in this radish patch. You have proven yourselves resourceful enough to survive out here alone. You have a culinary taste of vegetables that goes beyond that of most people I know.
The young lord turns to this companions and then looks back to all the kobolds. His voice is a little louder so that all can hear him.
If you rejoin your old tribe and helping them to rebuild...you will enjoy the food and other supplies that we have provided them. There are things that we are passing along to help rebuild your old tribe into a better one. A home that is better fortified than the last one, the tribe's past is preserved and is passed onto your younglings. And much, much more. We hope that even the Dragon God Apsu will show his favor and listen to your words. To answer your prayers. Chief Kip has shown that he is a wise and powerful leader.
Christian steps closer to the radish patch and looks down at the vegetables. He keeps himself calm and steady.
I have two offers for you. The first one is the one I think and hope you will take. You and your companions return to your old tribe. Aid Chief Kip in rebuilding your tribe. You will benefit from food, and supplies that are readily available to you. You will have a warm cave to rest you head in comfort and will be at ease knowing that you have a stronger home then before. You will also have a powerful ally and neighbor to lend you aid when it is needed.
He stands up and looks at the brave kobold that is without a weapon.
In exchange we will make sure that radishes are part of the supplies that are sent to Chief Kip and his Kobolds.
He grabs a radish and pulls it from the ground with a gentle hand.
In time we may even be able to grow these radishes outside of your caves. Think of it...you could have these delicious and rare treats available to you most of the year. Grown with your own...claws.
Christian looks at the kobolds as a group
or...You can remain here far away from the travesty that befell your old tribe. Free to build however and wherever you wish. To brave the weather and hardships that come with starting over.
Christian's eyes stare off into the distance for a moment.
I know what it is like to start over with nothing. It is hard and not at all fun.
Breaking form his few seconds of reprieve. The mercenary leader's voice increases in tone and power.
When the radishes are gone...what will you do? When the harsh weather comes what will you do with out a proper home? When the bandits come looking for what is rightfully yours will you just sit back and let them take it?
Christian's voice returns to a slow and sad tone.
...What will you do...
If you return to the tribe and lend your aid...follow Chief Kip and his examples. You will have your old home back. You will have food aplenty...tools to help in mining and creating items to trade for those things you do not have. You will have a future that many generations of your young will flourish and thrive with. You will have radishes aplenty and safety to live in peace.
At this point he stance become more submissive and his voice is filled with hope.
I only ask that we keep this patch of radishes for our needs. As I said before in exchange we will share these radishes with your tribe. We will protect this area and our farmers will cultivate the lands so that the radishes will continue to grow. If all goes well you could have radishes available most of the year. Would this be to your liking?
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Despite their spokesman's initial bravado, the wayward kobolds prove unwilling to put up a fight. They are only slightly more willing to talk, but they are ready to listen - if only for the distraction from their transitory gastrointestinal woes.
Those of you fluent in Draconic can conclude, as you listen to the kobolds' mutterings, that their abandonment of the surviving tribe was a rash, spur of the moment decision. Christian's oratory and Bydar's kindly translation proves to be a one-two punch that helps them realize the folly of their decision. It seems that they give little thought to their dreams of a new tribe beyond simply "live here, eat radishes."
The four kobolds agree to the proffered terms, especially if some sort of medicine, tincture, or tea is provided to ease their bellyaches. In the long term, they will rejoin the other surviving kobolds and support the efforts to rebuild their old tribe. In the short term, they accept you as friends and agree to share "their" clearing with you as a campsite for the night.
Still smiling at the haplessness of the kobolds, Syretia sets about making herself useful, whether that's pulling radishes, helping prepare the tea, or sitting with the kobolds and talking them through their bellyaches.
Bydar does indeed help as best he can with their interstitial overload, putting his healing skills to good use.
"Yeah, yeah, we won't need all-ah them, jus' ya know, ah bunch of tha suckers," Booker responds to Lord Christian. Although several of the radishes end up in a few sacks and a bushel in his own bag, he makes sure to leave plenty in the ground. If this works out, we's gonna make ah killin'!
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Brandt, satisfied with the negotiations, will prowl around the perimeter of the radish patch, making sure there are no other threats in the immediate area. Once satisfied, he'll look for peppermint, or some other kind of mint, to aid with brewing a tea for the former Sootscales.
Fenrir will watch with a distracted gaze, keeping half an eye on the kobolds, but otherwise napping.
Christian helps with setting camp up. With a request for aid in transaltion, christian strikes up a simple conversation.
You likely seen a lot in your travels to get here. Anything you can tell us of the area?
As night comes into full...
I suggest we set watches...
Bydar will translate, and while he'd love to spread the good word of Shelyn to these kobolds, or anyone who was interested for that matter, given their odd state of...ah mental nonconformance, he realizes they might get some visions out of this that have nothing to do with the divine. Best NOT to risk starting some cult of the divine radish.
----
At the mention of watches he nods "I need time to pray but I can take a watch certainly."
"I can go whenever," Syretia says, gazing down at one of the befuddled lizards. "I've always had excellent nightvision."
These kobolds previously served as scouts and foragers for the tribe, so they have ranged rather far afield.
From them, you learn that the "fairy nest" marked on your map is abandoned. They don't know what happened to them, and since kobolds have long hated the fey that lived in the forest, they don't really care about the wee ones' fate.
They considered setting up their ill-advised "new tribe" in the campsite to the southwest, where the local bandits once squatted, but they rejected it for two reasons. First, the canopy of trees was not dense enough to properly shield them from the sun during the day. Secondly, it was too close to the "stone elk" where another group of scaleless have been gathering as of late.
Brandt's ears perk up at the translation offered of the kobold's words, Well, that's a good potential lead on either our initial quarry in the area, or the cultists... Could be worth checking out once we know our people are safe and the dragons are more resolved....
Christian shakes his head slowly at the news of something more to investigate.
We will have to look into it later...as brand says we have more pressing matters to take care of.
I am thinking since we are very close to the outpost...Brand and one other should go hunting just before dawn. A simple deer or two will do wonders for those in need. The radishes will be of great use as well.
Bydar makes notes of what they were told to get back later.
"Stone elk, another group of Scaleless? Erastilians perhaps?"