"YEEEEEAAAAW! Way to go Fido and ANTony!" Merlan cheers from on horseback in front of Eloen.
The halfling's attempt to look back, while simultaneously holding onto hat, staff and wand, (without braining Eloen with any of them) probably causes the elfin warrior a moment of concern.
"HEY! GLITTERBALL! Whassa' matter? You don' wanna play no more? You were ALL about it just a second ago!" Merlan taunts the fleeing summoner, hoping to provoke him into any action that might delay him long enough to get in range,....
With the summoned bear defeated, Costin squints at the distant caster. A smirk spreads across his face, and he transforms into shadowy raven. He takes flight and lands a short distance from the summoner. ”Going somewhere?” he asks smugly.
"Ooooh! NICE trick!" Merlan says breathlessly, bouncing on horseback, in reaction to Costin's stunt.
As the horrible bear-thing poofs out of existance, Sahar sheathes her scimitar and spurs Sharisa along Lysander's trail, drawing her bow as she does. The magical floating sword accompanies her, then follows the bear into non-being.
Merlan lets out a piercing whistle. and both golden-mote covered summons turn from from the bear was, and aim themselves towards the flying, fleeing glitterball.
With no sound except the terrifying 'clickity-clack' of insectoid legs, the GIant flies across the ground, passing almost every party member in an attempt to reach the fleeing Conjurer. ANTony is almost with in reach now, its mandibles clicking in anticipation,...
And with a bark the golden Labradoodle is not very far behind the ant. His furry legs pumping to catch up to the insect.
[occ]ANT has 50' move, Dog has 40'. Both do a run (Double move?) to close the gap to the Summoner. (As soon as the GM says they can, of course. ;P[/ooc]
Merlans animals rush toward the the fleeing summoner, and hear a whisper on the wind before the glowing man growls, and changes his flight arc, gaining altitude instead of fleeing.
"What are your terms for surrender?" he snarls, somehow wearily.
Merlan turns to (more or less) face Eloen. He holds one side of his wide brimmed hat out of his face to talk to her.
"Surrender? Normally I'd say sure. I mean I'm not usually a 'capital punishment' kind of guy. But I'm thinkin' THAT ship may have sailed when he tried to turn us all into 'Kitty'N'Bear-Kibble'?!?"
”If you mean, will we kill you out of hand, the answer is no. Especially if you have information we can use,” Costin says.
The man says, "Fair start. So, if my life isn't forfeit, I'll trade everything I know for my freedom and gear.... less a modest ransom, and reimbursement for your healing."
He pauses, then adds, "Even willing to step into a Zone of Truth or whatever."
Costin raises an eyebrow at his companions, who have been on this mission far longer than he has.
"OK. I guess that ship HASN'T sailed. Yet." Merlan huffs mostly to himself. Rather grumpily it seems.
At this moment Squeaks arrives and lands on his master's hat, chirping what sounds suspiciously like an agreement.
Sahar pulls Sharisa to a halt just below the two floating/flying people. Battered and bloody, she keeps her bow in hand as she bares her teeth in a snarl.
"Let you go so you can rejoin our enemies? How does that benefit us at all?" she calls up.
The half-orc laughs, "Rejoin? In case you didn't notice, Priestess, I work alone. Well, almost." He shrugs, "...and, I'm willing to bet you don't even know who your enemies are."
He sighs, "Those are the terms I'm suggesting - if you've got a counter, then let's hear it. Otherwise, I've got several minutes of flight, and enough juice left to bring in a few new friends to at least slow you down. Figure I've got at least a coin toss chance of making it out of here with my life and gear, " he trails off then says, "..ok, maybe more like 1 in three, but still."
"Add the proviso that there will be no hostilities between us unless the other breaks the truce, and I can agree to yours. What about the rest of you?" She turns Sharisa to look at the approaching remainder of the party.
The man pauses, "Done. For a year and a day, no direct or indirect hostile acts, from myself or anything I can summon, unless attacked first. If it's a case of mistaken identity, I'll stop everything as soon as I'm aware, and owe you another ransom."
Fiona, having made it over by this time, eyes the glittery blob in the air and wishes this form let her jump higher. Instead she grips her bow tightly, arrow nocked.
Instead she frowns. "And your gear," she adds flatly. "I'm not about to miss the satisfaction of ending your miserable life for nothing but untrustworthy 'information'. You can walk out of here with water, some rations, and a single weapon of our choice, or you can stay here and feed the vultures."
Come on, make my day...
"Well. As long as he has the energy to do another summons, he is never REALLY unarmed." The pint sized wizzy volunteers as he tries to dismount Eloen's horse. Without breaking his neck. After another assist from the elf, he is safe on low ground.
"Hmph. Weeeeelllllllll,... I DO like a good chat. And I'm VERY interested in what you are hinting at. If you aren't full of Bullette Dung. As you admitted, the odds are not exactly in your favor. SO come on down, and lets have a nice, civilized conversation."
Though the glittering Conjurer cannot see him, Merlan's smile makes it into his voice.
"We can begin with the simple questions and negotiations first. Like exactly how much do you think your life, and the info you offer, is worth exactly? THEN we can get the juicy gossip part."
The man stays in the air, "No, not until the terms are agreed upon. Up here, there are way fewer arms, paws and teeth that can grab me."
He looks in Fiona's general direction, "My information is trustworthy, I even offered to let you use magic to ensure that. I thought we were negotiating proper terms, which is why I even offered a ransom for myself and to pay reimbursement for your healing, in exchange for everything I know. If you'd rather tie me down and strip me of my stuff and threaten to break my fingers, that's not really what I was signing up for. I mean, sure, I'd still answer your questions truthfully, but I have to think I'd be feeling way less chatty and forthcoming with any interesting bits along the way. Or, if you'd prefer, I go back to flying away and dodging your arrows. Sure, you might get my stuff that way, but I'll be too dead to talk. But I guess, at least, you can feel satisfied while things move around you that you don't understand."
"My friend, material weapons are not the source of his strength or power," Sahar points out to Fiona. "On the other hand, knowledge can be useful to us. I feel he's being reasonable, as long as he apologizes to us for the trouble he's caused."
Eloen shakes her head in disgust. Glitterdust has a very short duration, so stringing out the conversation just lets the summoner wait for that spell to end before trying to escape.
Anger grows in her expression as Fiona listens to the flying orc's retort, and she's just about to give him a biting reply when Sahar speaks. With a slight growl, she exhales and nods at the other woman. "Do as you will, then."
"If anyone has objections, speak now; otherwise, we will adopt the truce proposal as it stands," Sahar calls to the party.
Merlan shrugs.
"Have to admit, I am curious to hear what he has to say. It WOULD be nice to get a clue, (OR heaven forbid a straight answer!) after all the Powers-forsaken running around we've been doing! I'm in for a chat."
Thinking the party agrees, the man lands, a whirling tornado keeping right next to him. He blinks a few times to clear his vision of motes and says, "Let's settle up first, then we can talk." He draws a small silver knife and cuts open his hand, then traces a pattern, leaving behind a trail of suspended blood droplets that, when he's done, form the outline of a box... at least for a brief moment, until a chest appears to fill the space instead.
He opens the lid, "I have a full wand of cure light wounds, or a wand of cure moderate with 15 charges. I'd think one of those should reimburse you for your healing? Or would you rather potions? I don't have 15 of those, but I do have a few - I could give you 2 cure serious and 4 cure moderate?"
Eloen says, "So you're willing to talk after all of this; why not open with conversation instead of starting with ambushes and enemies?"
"Didn't get a contract to talk to you," he says, "Was hired to do violence and make you go away. Killing was encouraged, but not essential. So, based on that, ambushing you seemed the path of least resistance."
"And, since I'm sure you'll ask, I was hired by a human male. Happened in Freedom Town. I was responding to a call for agents, one of my contacts heard and passed it along. Weren't looking for me and Preysting specific-like - and, since I'm agreed to be helpful, I don't think I'm the only one who answered. Can't say if anyone else took the job - but, just in case, look out for a green-scaled half-warg and his pack."
He says, "The guy's 'bout a finger or two under 6 feet, but he's gaunt which makes him look taller. Grey eyes, black hair. Weird breastplate, looked more like a carapace than anything, like he was wearing half a cave fisher or somethin'. He looks like he's in his forties, I'd say - some clear shocks of grey in his hair and beard..." He pauses, as if debating something, then then shrugs, "But, somehow, he sounded older than he looks, if that makes sense." He shakes his head, "Anyhow.. Man looks a bit sickly, though that might just be because of some pox-scars that his beard doesn't fully cover up. He didn't give me a name, but he did hand me a description of you and a small sack of gemstones... though I won't be getting the larger one I was promised, now."
He chuckles at that, then says, "...and, since I'm being all forthcoming, I can tell you that I don't take jobs without more information than that. Man's name is Galian. He's some sort of druid, but not the helpful to farmers and forest creatures kind. The kind that makes plants sicken if he stands too close to 'em. Apparently, he's not from here, but he's been around for a couple of years now. Generally keeps to hisself in the wilds like a hermit. "
Costin considers his tale. ”What did this Galian tell you about us? Did he merely provide descriptions? Did he have names or biographical details? What did he say you would be going up against? And were there any stipulations apart from returning with our heads?”
”Also, if it isn’t too morbidly curious to ask, what was the promised reward? How much are our lives worth?”
"Ooo, NICE spellwork!" Merlan says aloud, unabashedly appreciative of the magic chest trick.
"Personally, I always go for the wands. I think we have enough who can use them. If not, then any monkey can use a potion. What do you guys think?" Merlan says with a grin.
"Hm, A green scaled HALF-warg? And I thought I'd heard of everything with 'uncle'. Huh. Learn something new everyday." The wizard mutters in between the orcish summoners' surprisingly forthcoming information.
"Galien you say? druid being all hermit-y in the woods? UN pleasant sort? That sounds familiar. Does that sound familiar to you?" Merlan looks up trying to address Squeaks,almost dislodging the dino from his perch on his hat in the process.
"I don't suppose that this unpleasant fellow was as 'forthcoming' as you? He didn't happen to cackle maniacally and give a long, wonderfully detailed monologue of his motivations and reasons? Would be reeeeely nice to know WHY he's going to all this trouble to be rid of little ol' me. I mean US!"
Merlan seems his usual attentive and cheerful self again. Like the moment of 'kill the summoner' has completely passed. Or was another Merlan entirely.
"I just stocked up on potions for the group... we will need to divvy them up at some point when we're not being mauled by hired killers," Sahar contributes. "So I vote for a wand."
The man responds to Costin, "Descriptions, excellent ones of each of you. To the point that I knew all about the halfling's hat, little pet and riding dog.. and that he's a mage. As are you. She's a priestess of the Dawnflower, she's a warrior, she's an archer and he's a druid."
He adds, "And the wind told me this morning that you'd be out this way."
He shrugs, "Didn't get a price per head, and, as I said, it wasn't just about killing. The front money was just a small sack with 250 in flawed and semi-precious stones. Being able to prove that I'd made you go away for good was going to pay another 3,750... of course, the proof was probably going to have to be at least one head, especially if he's hiring more than one agent."
He coughs, then spits, "He wants you gone. Didn't say why, but it's clear that whatever he's up to is a longer-term plan that you're messing with... or are in a position to mess with."
He reaches to his belt, very slowly, and grabs a waterskin hanging there, making his action deliberate as he takes a pull, then spits it out. "But, like I said, I don't just take their word for it. From what I could learn, he's let slip around Freedom Town that he's got a partner. Someone he's known for decades -- they might have been adventuring buddies, if a bunch of folks drunk on cornmush can be trusted. And, they're here for a big score based on the partner's bloodline."
He looks at the mage, "Yeah, half-warg. Daddy was, supposedly, a green dragon that liked to slum."
He reaches into his chest and pulls out ten platinum ingots. "Half a pound each, stamped, though you can weigh them if you want. My proposed ransom. I'd offer to throw in the sack of gems they fronted me, but they know those stones and might be able to track them."
Merlan humphs.
"Well. At least we know that they consider us enough of an issue to pay decently for our heads." He says cheerfully.
"Hm. Tracking them. Good idea." Merlan mutters as he scratches his chin.
Merlan tilts his head sideways thoughtfully, his hat and familiar likewise tilting to a precarious angle as he does so.
"Soooo,... what does this Unpleasant Druid and his old pal, Or pals, have to do with the current kerfluffle regarding partial-orcish hordes gathering and infiltrating the area? Your only involvement is as a 'Hand-for-Hire'? Not directly related to orcish hordes or fleet-footed Fae? Or are you a participant of the gathering, but doing odd jobs on the side?"
Merlan looks even more thoughtful (And silent for a long moment) before adding,
"I don't supposed they mentioned WHAT his partners bloodline was, did they? That might give us a clue what the 'big score' could be."
"You are not paranoid if they really are out to get you," Sahar mutters to herself.
"You are not paranoid if they really are out to get you," Sahar mutters to herself.
"I say that ALL the time!" Merlan cries cheerfully.
"They always look at me funny when I say it though,..."
The half-orc shakes his head, some of the glitter falling from him as he does, "No, I'm not part of whatever this riding tide of chaos is... though I think someone tried to recruit me. She told a grand tale of a new tribe that would rise to take over the land, one where outcasts and misfits would take their rightful place. The fact that it was a female -- living and commanding *as* a female gave her words weight... but, like I said, I prefer to work alone. Or, at least just me and my very dear extraplanar friend."
He pauses, then shrugs, "Plus, there was something off about her. She was too much of a true believer, and I knew I could never have that kind of faith in something... certainly nothing mortal."
He shakes his head again, as if to clear the memory, then says, "I don't know what it is about the bloodline, only that his friend is supposedly the last and so heir to whatever. Bloodright and all that.... and, I think they were planning for a long time, but I'm not sure that this is actually their original plan.. Kind of get the feeling they've decided to be opportunistic... like they didn't set this fire, but they're happy to take advantage of the heat... and the smoke as cover, too."
"Hm. That does sound like the recruitment speech that we've heard about." Merlan says to Squeaks as the rest digest the information.
"Huh, 'Opportunistic' does seem to be catching in these parts lately. Say. You don't happen to know WHERE we can find 'Mr-cranky-tree-hugger', do you? I'd love to discuss this unhealthy obsession with my well-being, or lack of it, with him."
"Another faction. That makes some sense. Tell me, do you know of any other players in this little game, besides sellswords?" Sahar asks.
The summoner shakes his head at Sahar's question, and the last of the glitter falls away, allowing you to see a rather handsome half-orc - one who's greyish pallor could pass for human if not for the single tusk over his lip, and a few lines of scars and colour from old tattoos.
"I think the trick is that there's more than one game." He holds up a finger, "First, we've got the faction that tried to hire me building its power, with a place for outcasts, and better organization and all of that. So, they're out looking for things --- I've heard talk they've got a bounty for very powerful magics, for instance. The legendary kind."
He shrugs, "Anyhow, their successes are pushing out the existing tribes and upsetting the status quo. So factions two to twelve are displaced tribals, which is probably cascading out -- push out a strong tribe from the good spot, they'll fall back to taking the next best spot, displacing the next strongest tribe, until we get to the weaker ones. Probably, anyway. I suppose we might get lucky and tribes might band together against the bigger threat, but.. well, by the time they think of that, instead of claiming the glory for themselves, it'll be too late... assuming they could ever pick a leader. "
He shrugs, "Unless the upstarts challenge Urgir and upset the Empty Hand, anyway. Still, all of that is spill over and side effects of the first faction's actions."
He holds up a second finger, "Then, we have the blight druid and his partner from way back who are playing a different game, but on the same board and with the same pieces in play. Based on everything happening, I'd say this looks like a high-risk high-reward thing - probably not Plan A, in any case, since it seems they were here before the other thing started."
He holds up a third finger, "Then, we have your poor little hamlet caught up in the chaos and just wants to live, in peace, alone, as they have been. Desperation and fear can lead people to making... interesting... decisions. Like calling in..."
He holds up his fourth finger, "Wallers, who heard about the chaos and thought this was the time to bring our little village, and surrounding lands, back under their thumb, despite having abandoned them to their own devices when they fell back last time."
He closes his hand and shrugs, "So, that's at least four groups with four different goals. As for players, the commander from the first faction I met was called 'Karuka'. Think she's a cavalier, but her warband looked to have some magic behind it, too. Definitely was a warpriest, but I didn't recognize the symbol. The half-warg is called Acridfang, and the alpha of a pack of wargs and winter wolves."
Merlan nods slowly as the half-orc speaks, for once actually listening and not interjecting.
"You DO do your research. Don't you?" Merlan says in approval after the half-orc is done. He seems sincere in his compliment. No trace of his usual flippancy or sarcasm in his voice.
Merlan muses thoughtfully over the information. He occasionally mutters comments under his breath, (presumably to his familiar, who does seem to respond to the comments with hisses and clicks.)
The halfling seems to have several things that he wants to say. (And you are more than certain that he will,)
But ONE question manages to rise to the top of the list and escape first,...
"SO, in theory, if a small but resilient band who were trying to help resolve some of the local issues were to decide that they, might, require assistance with one-to-four previously mentioned groups,....
The Halfling grins mischievously, and infectiously.
"Just curious, what IS the going rate for a freelance summoner in these parts?"
The half-orc chuckles, "Depends on the job -- but certainly more than just getting the title of 'hero' by His Lordship... No offence."
He pauses, "Though, the fact that I'm still breathing, and have my gear, suggest I owe you enough to give you a discount. Once, anyway. Maybe even twice."
Eloen cocks her head and listens to the exchange back and forth, but... so far... she doesn't have anything to say. To the party, who've started to learn her body language, it's clear that she's got some thoughts.
The half-orc chuckles, "Depends on the job -- but certainly more than just getting the title of 'hero' by His Lordship... No offence."
[/b]
Merlan grins in response.
"None taken! Apparently titles don't spend very well. Even in the town we were recruited to help." The wizard admits wryly.The half-orc pauses, "Though, the fact that I'm still breathing, and have my gear, suggest I owe you enough to give you a discount. Once, anyway. Maybe even twice."
"Well! We'll just file THAT away under 'future business' then, shall we?" Merlan says cheerefully.
"By the way, you mentioned the name of your extra-planar companion, 'Preysting', very appropriate, but you didn't mention yours sir.
The halfling stands up to his full, non-impressive height, (The better to look the seated half-orc eye-to-eye) and extends his hand.
"The name's Merlan Firefingers, and you are?"
The half-orc taps his chest, "They call me Vormak Garkadaş... which is a corrupt contraction of Garip Arkadaş - or Vormak Weirdfriend in Common.... of no tribe. Or, at least, none that will claim me now."
"Interesting, since we just recently found out about a tribe that's allegedly accepting half-orcs and others who normally wouldn't find a place in a typical orc tribe," says Celebeth.
"Would you consider joining such a tribe?"
”Do you know anything about there plans? From what we gather, it seems to revolve around an old sealed mine. Have they gotten in? Or did you hear how they plan to?” Costin asks.
The half-orc nods, "Yeaaaaa, I figure that's the same lot that sent that Karuka person to try to recruit me. Didn't sign up then. Not really feeling terribly... tribal... to be honest... Plus, this place is getting too chaotic to be good for work. Some upheaval keeps a man busy, but this weird tribal war.. it's bad for business... the kind I prefer, anyway."
He pauses, "But there is a small clan of females up in the mountains, they keep to themselves, but if they're offered leadership and power.. well, it'd certainly not hurt the new tribe's strength, I'll say that. Honestly, there's a lot carrying orcish blood that have probably been cast out for a whole host of reasons... that tribe's going to have numbers... and, let's be honest, better planning and probably more magic."
He shakes his head at Costin's question, "A sealed mine? Huh, well, it's got to be holding something better than silver, gold or steel, based on the planning and expense they're taking. I don't know how they'd get in... but, if it is a matter of bloodright, then they probably have a way. Heirloom key passed down generations or something. Or, maybe the seals are magic and will recognize the blood."
He shrugs, "Don't know, don't care. Don't imagine ol' Gally would have much to say if I asked, either.... Hells, he'd probably turn into something massive and try to eat me if I did. "
The half-orc looks around, then nods, "Anything else? If not, I'm more than happy to get out of your hair, though my fly is expired now and so I'll have to hoof it. Especially since I can't call on my large friend to carry me until tomorrow."