"Well met, Kyrion," Pril says with a slight bow. "I am Pril Piddwiemog and these are my companions. Please, tell us more of the Scarlet Triad."
”Hmph. An organization of foreigners who seem to delight in meddling with zealots, as far as I can tell. They were using us, certainly—they were too powerful and had too many resources to want us as equals. I suspect they’re using the Cinderclaws to prepare this region for some unknown plans of their own. All of which I told Belmazog repeatedly, but no. Belmazog knows best. Well, we now know where that got her.”
Kyrion scoffs. ”Belmazog used me. She hoped I would serve as Dahak’s avatar, but I served well enough as an unwilling vessel for the Destroyer’s power. Do you know what it is to look upon the face a god? To know that all of your wrath and hate could burn the whole world clean, and that you would still be nothing more than a dying spark in the face of an inferno?“ The dragon shudders, then looks down at his wound and prods at it slightly.
”This is a shard of something powerful, a fragment the Scarlet Triad gifted to Belmazog to aid her in the ritual she performed to raise the dragon pillars. The gold around the wound inflicted by the shard is a manifestation of its power, I think. It’s painful, but not agonizing. It’s a complete violation of my personal autonomy, but from an arcane viewpoint, it’s really very interesting. I wish I knew what it is or where it came from.”
”The second one. I think it’s metaphysically tied to my life force now, or something. Powerful magic, that.”
"Then perhaps my friend Ervan can assist. He's quite skilled in the ways of the arcane," Pril says with a nod towards the wizard.
Ervan lets out a low whistle as he examines the shard. "This is beyond even my understanding. Perhaps if I had a few weeks to study it in full?"
Kyrion balks. "Uh uh. I'm getting out of here before somebody else tries to use me like Belmazog did. I am grateful for your kindness, though. I promise to return to you in the future to aid you and repay you more properly. Will you tell me where your home is, that I might visit you?"
Illyiana seriously considers pulling the shard out and just killing this creature. She keeps her mouth shut and doesn't offer up anyway for it to track them down and kill them later once it's stronger.
Pril bows respectfully towards the dragon, keeping her eyes upon him. She considers keeping their home secret from him, but Master Wickt's teachings are too strong.
"We live outside a small village by the name of Breachill in the eastern portion of Isgar, far to the north," she says finally. "There is no need to repay us, though. We did what is right."
Illyaina rolls her eyes and throws her hands up, not surprised at the words of the gnome. She turns her back to the group so they can't see the s$+& face that she is unable to hide.
Kyrion nods. ”Well, I plan to repay you anyway. You can start with my hoard. Belmazog took it from me, but you may have it now. I’ll get a new one.”
The treasure consists of 830 gp, 3,950 sp, 7,800 cp, a sack of 20 gold nuggets worth 50 gp each, greater healer’s gloves, a +2 striking longbow, a rod of wonder, and a wand of dimension door.
An investigation of Belmazog’s nook reveals several pages of notes spread through various journals, scrolls, and parchments that can reveal much about her plans and personality, as well as a few tidbits about the Scarlet Triad. Sifting through the notes requires 8 hours of work by someone who can read Draconic.
Illyiana's attitude on this dragon softens some as she uncovers the magnificent new bow which she quickly takes and tests, firing a plethora of arrows into targets nearby.
"Good fortune to you then, Kyrion, and safe travels," Pril says as the dragon leaves.
The gnome is happy to gather whatever notes are there and return to the elves village before examining them.
Before he departs, Kyrion recommends destroying the dragon skull in this chamber. Doing so causes the molten gold pouring from the skull’s jaws fades to smoke, the chains to crumble to rust, and ends the lingering effects of the Cinderclaws' ritual that was sickening the Ekujae elves. The bones supporting the fortress become brittle, and the whole complex will likely collapse in a matter of days.
You gather Harriet the lion and the spider-lady Renali and return to the Ekujae village of Akrivel, arriving after three days of trekking through the jungle. The elves are overjoyed to learn that the Cinderclaws have been defeated. The Ekujae will be able to quickly rout any lingering cultists and scatter them back into the jungle. While this most obviously benefits the elves of the Leopard Clan, it will also secure Breachill from further assaults through Huntergate, ensuring that the town doesn’t suffer a second invasion of cultists from the Mwangi Expanse.
"You have done well," Nketiah says amidst the evening's celebration. "You have proven yourselves friends of the Ekujae and have earned a final reward: Eclipse." She presents you a gleaming starknife.
Whenever you score a critical hit with Eclipse, the target creature’s eyes are plunged into darkness; if that creature doesn’t have darkvision, it is blinded for 1 round.
Activate [one-action] command; Frequency once per day; Effect Eclipse’s blades glow like starlit night sky, causing it to shed light as a torch until you deactivate it as a single action, which has the concentrate trait.
Activate [reaction] envision; Frequency three times per day; Trigger You attempt a Stealth check to Hide or Sneak, but you haven’t rolled yet; Effect You absorb light, gaining a +2 status bonus to the Stealth check.
"This weapon is the portal key to another aiudara in Alseta's Ring: Dreamgate, the portal associated with the goddess Desna. The Ekujae have long protected this portal key as well as the hunter’s arrowhead, but we do not know where the other portal keys for Alseta’s Ring might lie today. They were a magic chisel to open Duskgate, a magical gem to open Jewelgate, a magical piece of amber to open Vengegate, and a magical flower to open Lotusgate. Keep your eyes out for them during your travels."
When you have time to examine Belmazog's notes, you learn that Belmazog's primary contact with the Scarlet Triad was a gnoll named Laslunn. She didn't know much more about the Scarlet Triad, having assumed that they were a foreign sect of Dahak worshippers who had come to answer her prayers.
Overall, your efforts have won Breachill a well-earned and desperately needed respite from the Cinderclaws—but they were not the only group interested in Alseta’s Ring, and the threat of Dahak’s avatar still hangs heavy over the town. The mystery of the Scarlet Triad likewise remains unsolved and seemingly without leads to pursue immediately.
For the time being, you can turn your attention to managing Citadel Alterein, purchasing new equipment, and getting prepared for whatever might lie beyond Dreamgate!
"Thank you for your precious gift, Nketiah." Illyiana responds, temporarily taking the knife for the group. "We intend to keep our eyes open as much as possible or at least as long as the Cardinal helps us do so."
Returning to the elvish village, Pril seems preoccupied with seeking out a certain morose elf.
The elf is no where to be found, unfortunately. It appears that he did leave a letter for her however. She reads it in silence, her face falling. Once she's finished, she crushes the parchment in her small hands and prepares to through it off into the jungle, but at the last minute, as tears fill her eyes, she straightens it back out and puts it carefully into her bag.
She spends the rest of the day alone with Harriet.
Later that evening, Illyiana is ready to retire and heads back to their bedding area. She finds Pril all alone and looking rather somber. Not really sure what is going on, she plops down beside her and looks over at the gnome. "You wanna talk about it?"
"Why? So you can make fun of me?" Pril counters, not meeting Illyiana's gaze. There's not a lot of bite in her tone, though. She reaches into her bag and pulls out the wrinkled piece of parchment, gazing down on it for a moment or two before continuing. "Allandír decided that one of his 'Mistresses'," she says the word with derision, "had more need of him than I ... than we did." She reaches up and wipes at her eyes. "Stupid elf. Should have never slept with him." Pril glances over at the ranger. "Sorry. Pretend you didn't hear that, ok? Don't want you to think I'm easy."
Her voice grows quieter.
"It just seems like every time I ..." She shakes her head and wipes her eyes again. "It's a real shame, though," the gnome continues, forcing her lips into a smile. "He was an excellent kisser."
Nodding in response to not saying anything she acknowledges "I won't say anything, you have my word.".
"I'm sorry this stupid elf left you. They are a fickle bunch, elves. I've never really been able to understand how they work, truth be told."
She slips her arm around Pril's shoulder and pulls her head towards the ranger so she can lean in on her shoulder. "Hey look Pril, I know I am probably tougher on you then I should be. I don't mean anything by it, it's just some sort of defensive thing I do I guess when I'm not sure what to say."
Unsure what to say and not wanting to make fun of Pril, she says the first thing that comes to mind. "There are many good kissers in the world, Pril."
"Yeah, but there are so many more that are just toads," the gnome responds with a giggle as she leans in to the ranger. "Not that I've ... I mean it's not like I've kissed lots of people."
She sits quietly for a bit, enjoying the silent companionship.
"Now, while you smell very nice, I have little doubt that I smell like I need a bath," she says after a bit. "Since I know where the stream is I'm going to go hop in and take one."
The gnome rises from the limb she's been sitting on. "Care to join me, Harriet?" she asks the nearby lioness who yawns and turns to rest her head looking in another direction. "Oh well, it was worth a try." She looks back at Illyiana the unasked question on her lips.
Illyiana sniffs herself when Pril says she smells nice.
How can I smell nice?
When she asks Harriet to join her for a bath, she raises an eyebrow as the gnome walks off.
She leans in to her chest and sniffs again and decides she most certainly doesn't smell nice. She rises to her feet and nods in response, pushing up off the ground.
Her first thought is to say Might as well come alone and make sure the water isn't over your head., but she bites it back and says instead "Might well get it done, it's time."
She moves up to Pril and puts her arm around her shoulder as she walks "So. You like to bathe with animals?" she asks, a smirk on her lips.
"Not normally," is the gnome's response. She then turns to look up at the woman next to her with a sparkle in her eyes. "But I'll make an exception in your case,"
With that the tiny woman dashes off into the undergrowth towards the sound of running water, her high-pitched laughter bouncing off the trees.
When she reaches the water, she makes quick work of her gi, sandals and smallclothes before diving into the cold water.
It takes Illyiana a moment to understand that she was just the butt of a joke. "Wait, what?!" she exclaims, stopping to think about what just happened. "Why you little-!" she finally says and dashing off after the gnome.
When she reaches the water and the gnome is just finishing her undressing and she pauses to do the same. She quickly pulls off each piece before plopping on the ground to unstrap her boots. Sitting everything together in a pile, she dashes towards the water and dives in as well.
After surfacing, she swims over to Pril and takes note of the tattoo on her body. "You know I said I hated dragons, and here you are having one wrapping all around you. What's the significance to you?" she asks, curious.
Pril's grin fades just a tiny bit. "It was a gift from someone very special," she says. "And you shouldn't hate dragons. Dragons are like people; some are good and some are bad. The worst dragon is still matched by the evilest human, dwarf, or gnome. Likewise, the best of them are as caring, compassionate, honest, and courageous as the very best elves."
She continues to tread water as her mood returns to its previous playfulness. "I've always wondered if was even possible for human women to drown. With those huge things on your chest, you'd think you'd always bob to the surface."
With a laugh, she drops below the water to swim past Illyiana, tickling at one of her feet as she goes by. Popping up out of the water on the other side of the woman, she giggles and splash a handful of cold water at her.
"You're fun. You should come back with us through the aiudara and stay for a while with us," she offers with a smile.
On one of his trips into town to secure supplies for Citadel Alterein, Lucius receives a summons to Breachill Town Hall. There, a clerk escorts him into the office of Councilor Greta Gardania. She smiles and bids the priest to have a seat.
"Thank you for coming, Cardinal. First, let me express our town's gratitude for all you and your companions have done for us so far. Securing Citadel Alterein and bringing Voz Lirayne to justice are both accomplishments to be proud of. I wanted to pick your brain a bit, if you don't mind."
She pulls out a well-worn copy of one of Abadar's holy texts, the Manual of City-Building. "We have temples to Desna and Shelyn in town, but none to the Master of the First Vault. In my term on the council, I've consulted his holy tomes for guidance in running Breachill and dealing with the other members of the council. I wondered if you might offer any insights to his teachings, or have any ideas on how to ensure Breachill's continued prosperity?"
She sours on the dragons are like people comment, "Really? How come you don't ever hear stories about these caring, compassionate, honest and courageous dragons? All I see is fire scorching me and destruction."
She shakes it off when Pril decides to get playful, looking down at her own chest. She chuckles and replies with a smirk "If I didn't know any better Pril, I'd say that was a tinge of jealously right there!"
When her foot gets tickled, she lashes out to snatch the gnomes foot as she swims past, but the water slows her down too much and she misses. She spins to say something only to get a mouthful of water.
Confused, she spits out the water and considers what she just heard. She had been considering leaving now that she had fulfilled the request of eliminating all of the totems. And facing dragons. "I was planning to leave in the morning," she starts, before letting the monk's words sink in.
Fun? Did she say I'm [i]fun? No one has ever said I was fun before.[/i]
"But. If you want me to stick around a little while longer, I can do that."
"Because those are the tales that are remembered and garner coins for bards in taverns," Pril answers back with a frown as she treads water. "I can tell you many others that paint a different picture, but those aren't the ones bards sing of."
"And if you think I'm jealous of those huge things then you've taken one too many knocks to the head. My boobs are the perfect size, I'll have you know. Not too big. Not too small. Anyone with any experience with them would consider them splendiferous."
"And it'd be nice to have someone around to balance out the 'Boys Club'. The keep still needs work, but there's lots of room."
She takes her hands and cups underneath of her breasts, lifting them up slightly "You think these are too big? Are you serious? I've never had any complaints from anyone before. I suppose stuffing them into the armor can be uncomfortable at times, but I don't complain."
She lets her chest fall and a studious expression overcomes her face as she stares at Pril's. "Hmmm. Splendiferous, eh? that's quite the description. How is it you've reached this conclusion they are the perfect size? What are they perfect for exactly?"
"And because a gnome's physical attributes are the epitome of perfection no matter what they are - that's how I know they're perfect. From the color of my eyes to the shapes of my toes to the dimples in my bottom - perfect."
She giggles again, ducking her head under the water a moment to push her hair back. She then lets herself rise to the surface, resting easily as she floats on her back. "'One must be content with one's self before one can improve one's self'," she quotes as she assumes an air of calm serenity.
Well I guess it's clear how she feels about herself.
As she watches Pril float on her back, she raises a brow and is unsure how to handle that response. She states "Really? You truly believe you are perfect? No one is perfect, Pril. You can't achieve perfection, it's impossible."
"And what make you think your attributes are better than mine?"
She folds her arms in a not-quite-pouting-because-she-doesn't-pout-but-she-is-probably-pouting-kind -of-way. "Are you trying to say you don't think I'm pretty then?"
"It's a way of thinking. A point of view. It applies to all things. You have to accept that where you are or who you are or even what you are is where, who, and what you are. Before you can change anything, you have to accept what currently is and be content. To exist in the now. You have to be present in the now before you can change the now." As she speaks, she slowly moves closer. When she finally stops moving, she's close enough that the ranger can feel the warmth of the small woman's body through the water.
"And more important than whether I think you're pretty," she continues in a softer voice. "The question should be 'Do you think you're pretty?'"
|
Lucius returns Greta's greetings with equal friendliness and disclaims any great responsibility. "Much of the true work has been carried out by my companions Councillor. My humble role is simply to repair their wounds and support them in battle. The work in repairing Citadel Alterein has been much more in my line."
When the Councillor produces the Manual of City Building Lucius nods approvingly before sitting back slightly in his chair as his advice is sought.
"This is not my area of expertise. I am a Cardinal of the Emissary, rather than the Settler, Order so my work is mostly in solving disputes and mediation rather than the basic groundwork of running a town, but I can offer some general advice that may be of use."
"It is of the first importance that your laws be well known and obeyed by all. The nature of the laws matters less than their being impartial and equal to all. There must also be a clearly defined method of seeking redress under those laws, so that they can be both enforced and seen to be effective. From what I have seen of Breachill you are well provided in these matters." He offers a seated bow to the Councillor. "Should it ever be of use to you we would be happy to assist you in holding court at the Citadel. I have noticed that a change of venue, particularly a large and imposing one, can have a very marked effect when used sparingly. Any particularly troublesome cases, or affairs which you wish to have greater significance attached to them. I hope that the Citadel will be part of this community, not standing alone so this may be one small way to achieve that goal."
Greta nods. "Thank you, Cardinal. I will present the idea to the other councilors, but I think all will be inclined to maintain good relations with you and those who choose to follow you at the Citadel. We will extend all of the protections to you as to any other part of Breachill, and we hope that, should the town be threatened once again, you will muster to come to our aid. We look forward to a long and prosperous partnership."
"Pretty enough, I suppose. I've bedded my share of companions but I think usually it had to do with how much ale we'd consumed versus how pretty I am. Though, the size of my chest may have cntributed to this I suppose." she admits.
"On a day to day basis, my attractiveness and my breasts rarely enter my mind. But given the fact that we are both unclothed, you are talking about my body and discussing if I'm pretty..."
The ranger swims over closer to Pril and then runs her hands through her hair, pushing it all out of her face and pulling it back behind her. She says with a smirk"Well. I'm inclined to think you want me to kiss you right now.""
"I was just asking if you thought you were pretty," she says in a small voice. In an even quieter one, she whispers, "Why do girls always want to kiss me?" A small peep of surprise follows and the gnome's fingers fly to her mouth as she realizes she said the last part aloud.
She keeps her eyes locked on Illyiana's before finally answering her question through her fingers. "I would only want you to kiss me if it was something you wanted to do."
As the renovations of Citadel Alterein make good progress, a small delegation of Ekujae elves arrives at the keep. Among them are Akosa, Jahsi, and Nketiah.
"Hello, friends! We have come to check on Harriet! We were worried how she would adjust to life outside of the jungle," Jahsi says with a laugh.
"He is only joking," Nketiah says. "The people of the Leopard Clan have decided it might be mutually beneficial to open a trade route between our city and yours. They have sent us as emissaries of the Ekujae. We will not travel through Huntergate, for fear arousing the wrath of the Destroyer, but the scenic route is pleasant enough. Will you have us, heroes?"
"Harriet? She's doing great, but I know she misses all of you," Pril says with a grin, gesturing towards the inner courtyard.
The debris has been cleared and there is grass as well as stone walkways through the space. In one corner is a lone tree. Resting on one of the lower limbs, catching the last rays of sunshine in the enclosed space is the feline in question.
As if to demonstrate the overwhelming emotions she must be feeling, the lioness looks up for a moment at the visiting elves before yawning and turning her head to lay back down.
"We would love to have you stay," the gnome continues. "We haven't got all the rooms cleaned up yet, but we'll find somewhere that you can sleep. How was your trip?"
"It was Akosa's first time on a boat. He became very ill!" Jahsi laughs.
"I did not! It was you who was vomiting over the side, not me," Akosa insists, elbowing the other elf.
Nketiah laughs. "Look at them. Like an old married couple already." She scratches Harriet behind the ears. "It was a good trip. I am interested in seeing your city, when you have time. I am always intrigued to see how other cultures live."
"I'd be happy to show you around," Pril says. "C'mon, Harriet, let's go see if Tecka has a treat for you."
At the name of the local butcher, Harriet stretches and hops down from her resting place to saunter over to the keep's open main entrance. She looks back as if to say, 'Aren't you coming?'
"We coming. Don't wait for us," the gnome says with a laugh. It's kind of become our daily ritual. When we head into town, we visit Tecka's shop. He's a bit cantankerous, but I think he's got a soft spot for Harriet."
~~~~
Pril takes joy in giving a tour of Breachill to the elves - after first stopping at the butcher shop.
The ranger's reply is to press her lips against the gnome's own. The kiss isn't short and abrupt, but neither is it long and passionate. Instead, while she kisses she takes both of her hands to Pril's cheeks and slowly slides them back behind her head until her fingers slide through her hair.
When she's done, she releases her and looks at her for a response, silent.
Over the course of the next several weeks, Illyiana begins to spend more of her free time alongside Pril, getting to know her better. Most of that time is Pril talking about her own experiences and what is on her mind, with the ranger keeping most of her thoughts to herself and her responses concise and vague.
"I'll tag along." Illyiana says, grabbing her gear for the tour.
When Illyiana finishes with the kiss and pulls away, Pril remains eyes shut and still, her small tongue slipping out just a little to move over her lips. Finally she takes a breath and her eyes open.
"Well that was ..." she begins, but seems unable to find the right words. One hand moves back up to her mouth and brushes over her lips. "Stimulating? Breath-taking? Captivating? Toe-curling?"
She shifts in the water and one of her small feet emerges from the surface. "See?" she points out with a grin.
"I'd like to do that again some time, wouldn't you?"
She flips in the water and strokes back to where her clothes are piled on the bank. Climbing out of the water she shakes her head, throwing water everywhere and begins to don her garments. "We should get back."
Pril shows off the town to the elves and Illyiana alike, who hasn't had much chance to really see Breachill yet. The gnome shows off the wonders of Monument Circle, the visual centerpiece of the town, with its six deep wells surrounding the elegant, 15-foot-tall statue of the wizard Lamond Breachton, Breachill’s founder and the town’s most important historical figure. She recounts the story of the town's founding before leading the group through the streets to showcase many of the local businesses.
And then an act of serendipity saved their lives. Lord Lamond Breachton, a wandering adventurer, scholar, and wizard, was returning from a lucrative trading trip to Druma when he stumbled upon the amnesiacs’ meager outpost. Even with his powerful magic, kindly Lord Breachton couldn’t solve the mystery of the humans’ origins or restore their missing memories. He took pity upon the villagers, and spent much of his recently acquired wealth on building proper shelters along the banks of what became known as Breach Creek. Further, Breachton helped the amnesiacs acquire food and establish farms, brought in experts to teach them trades, and used his magic and know-how to aid their day-to-day affairs while the townspeople became self-sufficient. In less than a year, the outpost was thriving, and the leaders of the burgeoning hamlet named their settlement Breachton’s Hill. This name was soon shortened to Breachill.
Despite his monumental place in the town’s history, very little is known about Lamond Breachton himself. The wizard’s origins are a mystery, and details of his life before arriving in town are conspicuously missing from the extensive local texts written about the town’s founding. The townspeople know only that Breachton had distinctive, golden-colored eyes, the rich voice of an angel, and flowing white hair that reached past the magnificent robes he always wore. Curiously, the wizard made it clear to those early town pioneers that he was indeed a human, as opposed to an aasimar or other celestial-touched being. History books describe Breachton’s demeanor as exceedingly paternal; he treated each of the town’s pioneers as wayward children regardless of an individual’s actual ages. His kindness and willingness to expend his own resources to help the outpost seemed without limit, however—he made the humans’ survival and well- being his entire focus for an entire year. Then one day, as quickly as he had arrived, Breachton disappeared. The townspeople never heard from him again, but they understood the wanderer’s need to move on. As a final tribute to the wizard, the townspeople erected a statue of him that stands in the center of town to this day.
Breachill’s townsfolk are hardy, and the town is focused on self-sufficiency and creature comforts. However, the town’s tight-knit nature means that its residents are friendly and tend to help each other, and their origins keep them open-minded toward outsiders. Breachill’s citizens tend to play as hard as they work, hence the town’s high number of tradespeople as well as taverns.
The most interesting places on the tour include Cayden's Keg, a rousing, well-kept tavern that is one of Breachill’s most popular places to enjoy a hearty meal and a pint of ale, and it doubles as a temple of Cayden Cailean, the freewheeling Accidental God. Then there's Crimson Wood Furs, a comprehensive haberdashery known for its high-end tailoring, gorgeous cold-weather outerwear, and fine cobbling. The establishment takes pride in its origins as a luxury supplier to high-ranking Hellknights, and portraits of early Order of the Nail leaders wearing the shop’s fine clothes line the store’s mahogany walls.
One of the few dedicated temples in Breachill, the Great Dreamhouse is a monastery-like establishment dedicated to the goddess Desna. About 30 priests and acolytes call the place home, living, working, studying, and praying in the temple’s peaceful lounges and verdant indoor gardens. And of course, there is Shelyn's Smile, both the headquarters of Breachill’s artisan guild and a temple to Shelyn, goddess of art, beauty, love, and music. In one wing, the faithful worship the Eternal Rose through sculpture and painting classes as well as via choirs and orchestral performances, and priests offer healing to those in need. In the other wing, representatives for Breachill’s artisans and tradespeople are available on most days of the week, and customers can pay a small fee to be matched with the right proprietors for all their renovation, building, and decorating needs.
While having shown the tavern during the tour, inevitably, Pril concludes the tour at the self-same establishment.
"While I've already shown you the Keg, I figured we'd stop in here to eat. They've got the absolutely most divine chips around, don't you know? I keep trying to find out what spices they soak the potatoes in, but they won't dish."
She heads inside and clambers up onto the bar to sit with her legs swinging. "Late lunch for all my friends," she instructs. "Well, these friends," she clarifies as hopeful eyebrows raise all around the room.
The proprietor, primary bartender, and head priestess of Cayden's Keg is Brynne Taithe. "Of course, Miss Piddwiemog! And welcome to your new friends. It looks like they've come quite a ways to share an ale with us today."
She gestures for a waiter to take your orders as she fills mugs for each of you. "So, I'm sure there's quite a tale behind how you met. Care to spin a yarn of your latest adventures?"
"Hey, Brynne," Pril says with a grin. "I'm not of a tale teller, but ..." she continues, and takes a deep breath to jump into the harrowing tale of their trip to the jungle and the challenges they face there. She's happy to embellish a bit to enhance the roles that Allandír and Illyianna played and glosses over the elf's departure with only a slight pause.
"... and so we freed the young dragon and he pledged to pay us back somehow," she concludes as she drains the rest of her tankard and gestures for a refill.
The gnome reaches down and pats Illyiana on the shoulder. "Good people, don't you think? Someone could imagine a nice life living here." She takes a quick drink from her refilled mug and eyes the half-elf over the edge of the crockery.
Illyiana "Honestly though, I'm just expecting the dragon to pay us back by burning us to death. Pril seems to think that dragons are good though, so we'll see what happens with that."
She also sips from her mug and turns to the gnome "I've never lived in one place longer than a few weeks. I'm not sure what it would take for settling down into a town. It seems," she squirms in her seat, "Restrictive."
"I didn't say that they were all good," Pril responds with a grin. "I said that they were like people - you can only discern whether they're good or evil by their actions."
"If by 'restrictive', you mean that you can't do just anything you please and have to consider other people's needs and desires along with your own, then, yes, it can be restrictive. But it also means that you have people around you that care about you and are happy to step in if you need a hand."
She sets her mug down on the counter next to her and looks over towards one of the windows. Her voice grows more wistful. "It can also mean having someone to say goodnight to each night and then wake up next to the next day."
16 Neth, 4719 AR
Several days have passed since the Ekujae elves have arrived. As they are settling into the routine at Citadel Alterein, a short, unsigned message arrives at the Citadel just before night falls:
Esteemed adventurers-
I have a proposition for you. I wish to speak about potential employment of your skills, but do not wish to involve the authorities. This is a matter for which your skills are uniquely appropriate, but also one that must needs remain secret. I’ve taken the liberty of commandeering your local wainwright’s shop as a meeting place. Come before sunrise, and do so alone. If you do not meet me before then, or if you involve the authorities, this one-time offer will not be issued again. In such a case, please accept my condolences in advance for your wainwright’s fate and the unfortunate fire that claimed his shop.
"I wouldn't say that Fadelby is a nice guy," Pril says once she's read the note, "but he certainly doesn't need to die in a fire at the hands of whoever this is."
The gnome would like to set out as soon as the sun sets.