Fiona listens to the exchange warily, grunting here and there in disgust at the foul creature's words, at other points shaking her head (without taking her eyes off the speaker). Old Tom would've killed the greenie, 'parlay' or not. she muses. And then taken a beating for it, of course, with never a word of complaint.
Where do I even begin in avenging them? If the Captain were here... Suddenly she stands a bit straighter, and her eyes narrow slightly. Hearing the orc finishing his answers, she waits a moment in case her companions have any other questions, and then asks, "One thing more. An orc warleader, with a jagged blue scar down his chest... do you know of him?"
Surely there's no harm in looking for the truth now, even if I have to wait to act on it until I'm finished with this commission...
The orc looks at Fiona for a moment, his expression somewhat curious, "A blue scar..." he says in an almost distant tone, before adding, "That does sound familiar... in fact, I can think of three orc 'leaders' who could be described that way."
"First, there's Sagog Flesheater. Taller than most, his skin is greyer than green and he's lost his right ear. Covered in scars from some ritual said to infuse him with the strength of death - and the one on his chest is a dull, dark blue that gets brighter when he kills. Fights with a bone greataxe. Operates out of Kaer Maga, other side of Belkzen. Heard he might be dead... or undead... now."
"Then, there's Caruf Frostbitten. Despite the name, still has his ears and fingers. Ice-blue scar - and name - came from having been enslaved by a winter witch in Irrissen. Managed to get strong enough to kill her despite all the magic around her and in him. Won leadership of the rest of her troops and bodyguard for his trouble, plus a fair bit of magical stuff. Caruf's big, broad and nasty - maybe a few fingers shorter than Sagog but half-again as heavy - and has quite the arsenal of goods. He hates everyone, especially spellcasters and human women. I'd heard he made it as far south as Isger, but that was a while ago.."
"Last, there's Makok Rullspawn. He's huge. Would make Sagog look like a pole, and Caruf look like dwarf. He looks like three orcs slammed together, probably some ogre or giant blood in there somewhere. Had a perfect blue-grey tattoo of a Warcat of Rull on his chest before being impaled by the glaive of one of Shelyn's paladins. Pulled himself down the shaft and killed the paladin, claims his survival is proof he's descended from the orcish god Rull. Has a following of orcs that believe him. Anyway, never got it magically healed, so the tattoo just a jagged mess of a scar now. He's got a hold in the River Kingdoms."
Merlan nods along as the orc-blood answers Fiona's last question, 'Hm'ing and 'Ah-Hah'ing as if paying very close attention.
Then he opens his mouth, and proves he probably hadn't heard more than a word. Maybe two.
"DO you know anything about a Quickling fae in the town? Maybe he's a friend of the Blight Druid or one of the others? It certainly seems intent on messing around with anyone who tries to help the poor blighters. I mean townsfolk. And by 'mess with', I mean 'tries to lure them into elaborate death-traps and dance on their corpses'. Just wondering."
He shakes his head, "No, can't say that I do. In terms of Fae, I know of a Redcap assassin, though no sign that he's here. Don't hire him, likes killing too much. Doesn't stick to his targets."
”It is a sad state of affairs when one asks about an orc with a blue scar upon his chest, and the response amounts to ‘Which one?’ It’s almost enough to make me feel for the plight of the orcs,” Costin mutters to his companions.
He shakes his head, "No, can't say that I do. In terms of Fae, I know of a Redcap assassin, though no sign that he's here. Don't hire him, likes killing too much. Doesn't stick to his targets."
Merlan 'Hmph's' softly.
"OK, Important safety tip. Thanks Egon."
”It is a sad state of affairs when one asks about an orc with a blue scar upon his chest, and the response amounts to ‘Which one?’ It’s almost enough to make me feel for the plight of the orcs,” Costin mutters to his companions.
Merlan nods energetically. His wide-brimmed hat flapping as he does so.
Squeaks clutches the hatband in a desperate attempt to maintain his perch, not even having time to squawk in protest."It does seem to be a trend of some kind. Maybe it's something in the water?" Merlan looks to Costin questioningly.
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"Accents their pecs."
Fiona listens, her mouth twisting in distaste, but her ears fully attentive. At the first description, she shakes her head, muttering, "Doesn't sound like him..."
As the other two possible matches are described, she exhales slowly, nodding, and finally adds a separate, intentional nod to the orc before her in acknowledgment of the information... the closest he'll get to a "thank you" from her.
She keeps to herself as the group prepares to depart, not reacting to their light-hearted comments, but riding out as sideguard once they're underway... and periodically looking back to make sure their former captive is still heading away, too.
Fiona watches as the figure keeps walking, slowly losing sight of him due to the the combined effect of rises and grass.
The terrain continues to grow more rocky as you move toward where the cave was indicated on your map, but despite that, there is no shortage of wildlife - mostly larger rodents and smaller birds of prey - and there seem to be more trees growing in the sand and soil -- none of them are terribly large -- most are barely wider than Merlan's arm, and only a handful are taller than you on your mounts. Still, you can't help but feel a growing sense of tension as you approach... almost as if the increased signs of natural life are themselves, somehow, unnatural.
One of the reasons for that might be the degree to which the prey animals (like the rodents) don't seem to be reacting to the numerous predators, especially the aerial ones.
...though that might be because the hawk that's in the air has been circling above you for at least the last half-mile...
"Uh, hey, guys?" Merlan offers tentatively. (Unusually subdued. Especially for him.)
"This place is giving me the heebie-jeebies. Has anyone else noted that the local fauna don't seem to be reacting much to us? Or to Squeaks here? Who usually sends rats and mice running for cover. Maybe that's because of the feeling of, oppression? DEpression? That seems to be in the air here?"
The halfling takes a pudgy finger, sticks it in his mouth, pulls it out with a pop, and holds it aloft as if testing the breeze.
"OR,... It could be because that hawk circling above has been following us for the last half-mile. Give or take." He shrugs.
Before departing, Costin offers healing from his wand of cure light wounds.
As Merlan points out the fauna, Costin looks up with concern. ”That is strange behavior. What if it is merely an illusion? Or some other arcane effect disguised as ordinary animals?”
Merlan, tilts his head, thinking.
"Nah. Too much trouble to make a large area look normal. Most likely the critters are just used to the presence of,... whatever it is."
"Just like I think it's far more likely that the hawk is someone's familiar, watching us specifically. My first guess would be a Rangers' friend usually, but the orcs around here seem to be VERY well supplied magic-wise. A familiar makes the most sense." The halfling says with confidence.
"Don't forget, there's a druid in the mix now... one with powers that some might consider unnatural."
Merlan nods in agreement, once again sending his familiar grasping the hat for balance.
"Yep. AND that. But an apparently normal hawk seems a bit tame for a 'Blight Druid', don't you think? I figure it belongs to another caster. OR one that we've met but didn't manage to finish off?"
Fiona grimaces, her eyes flitting between the unnatural wildlife and the hawk above. She starts to reach for her bow, but seems to think better of it and shakes her head, instead keeping her hands on her reins and her eyes on the surroundings. After a few more minutes of riding, she halts her horse and glances around at her comrades.
"Might make sense to approach on foot," she explains, preparing to dismount.
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You continue forward toward the rocky outcropping where the cave is meant to be (if Fiona's map can be believed) -- with a growing number of voles, rats and prairie dogs poking up and looking at you as you progress -- almost to the point that you'd expect to see a wave of small animals on your backtrail.
Looking ahead, the rocks are covered with vines and grass, obscuring your vision of where exactly the mouth of the cave might be -- wait, no -- it's probably there where the greenery is thickest and you can't see the greyish-brown stone behind it. The hawk that has been circling lands on one of the numerous, but slender, trees, the thing bowing slightly against the bird's weight before bouncing back up - and the bird's eyes are clearly on you, watching you intently -- before he turns his head toward the rocks where a massive grey-brown wolf -- broader but not quite as tall as your horses, though probably of a similar weight -- has emerged. The beast moves toward you, stopping about 100 paces away before it lets out a low growl and bares its teeth in challenge.
"I think we've found the menagerie of the local druid."
Sahar also uses the wand before they move along. 1 charge, full HP.
"Step carefully," she murmurs to her horse as they proceed through the fields of underground vermin. "We don't need you breaking an ankle."
Sharisa snorts, as if dismissing the concern as ridiculous.
Horse and rider both watch the wolf's approach warily. Sahar sets her hand on her scimitar's hilt, but does not draw.
"Lysander? Is it saying something?" Sahar keeps her eyes on the wolf as she asks.
"I think we've found the menagerie of the local druid."
"OR that cross-breed-Dire-Wolf pack leader. Either way, Things just got a lot more interesting!"
Fiona glances between the hawk and wolf with a frown, one hand fingering her bow while the other remains gripped on her polearm. "I doubt the evil druid or the wolf-man would have a bunch of prey wandering fearlessly around their hideouts," she opines quietly. "Shall we call out? If whatever lives here kills orcs, it should be an ally."
As you speak, the wolf turns his head to each of you in turn, teeth still bared, as if watching the discussion. "Maybe it kills more than orcs," it offers, threateningly.
Fiona slowly turns her head back to the creature, checking the surrounding trees to be sure it wasn't any of them speaking. "You speak," she observes needlessly. After a moment she continues, "That's possible. I'm guessing you know what's inside... but someone survived to label the maps, probably a dwarf..."
Trailing off, she studies the creature to see whether it gives anything away.
The wolf maintains its hostile pose, "I know nothing of your maps. And little of dwarves, save that they taste a little muddy and the meat tends to be stringy. Humans are generally both sweeter and more tender."
"Oh. Well, thank goodness I'm not human!" Merlan pipes up in relief.
"So, How are you today my fine, furry friend?! What clever coincidence brings you here at exactly the same time we arrived?" Merlan inquires as he peers intently at the newcomer.
(What? Merlans never tried talking to a WOLF before! Much less met one that talked back!)
"Hmmmm,..."
Your first impression would be that it's a worg or a winter wolf, but as you've watched the creature, neither of those seem quite right -- the colour is wrong, worgs are almost always black and closer in size to humans than horses... winter wolves are bigger, sure, but they're white -- and this thing is huge - the most dire or dire wolves....
...and then you realize what's bothering you - there's a strange hesitation to the creature and the way it speaks - something not quite fully lining up, almost as if it came into its intelligence later in--- wait, that's it! Sandy might be able to tell you what kind of wolf it is, but either way, you'd eat your hat if it hasn't been Awakened.... and that might explain the walking talking tree from earlier, too.
Merlan suddenly stops stock-still. And then his bushy eyebrows raise up, and up, and threaten to dislodge his oversized hat.
"Well, well, well. I'll be a sunuvagoblin." Merlan mutters to himself. A slow smile creeps across his features. A slow, BIG smile.
"Tell me my furry friend. How long have you been 'Awake', Hm?" he asks politely.
"Your speech is excellent by the way. But you still hesitate when forming your phrases. Like you have to think about it. Like when your speaking a language you just recently learned. OR as if you only recently learned to speak."
Merlan grins and turns to look at the others.
"I'll eat my hat if this fine Canine hasn't been Awakened. Most likely by that unfriendly druid we've heard about. And that wasn't done by just any dabbler in nature lore. It's a high power ritual. OOH! OOH! THAT could also explain the tree that you saw earlier!"
Merlan excitedly points to Fiona.
"The ritual works on Flora and Fauna!"
Merlan turns back to the wolf.
"Well, It is a pleasure! You are my first awakened creature I have had the honor of meeting!" Merlan bubbles excitedly, like some people do when they meet a famous Bard.
"I have SO many questions. Um,... But they can wait,..." Merlan adds abashedly when he notes the side-long glances from his companions.
"So, Back to my original question, I guess. How are you today my fine, furry friend?! And What clever coincidence brings you here at exactly the same time we arrived? Is there something that we can help you with?"
The wolf steps back at the questions, then shakes his head, and snarls, "There are no druids here.... And no coincidence... I am here to tell you that you are not welcome. Begone. Or have your final fate be the same as the Orcs that braved the cave."
"Not welcome?!? Well, there does seem to be a lot of that going around." Merlan says aside to his familiar.
Merlan addresses the wolf,
"I do apologize for the intrusion. I assure you that we mean you no harm. And I promise that as soon as we have completed our task, in the cave, we will depart immediately. It will be like we were never here!"
The halfling holds up three fingers of one hand in some sort of salute, or oath.
"What happened to the orcs that were here before?" Costin asks. "Why do you wish to keep people out of this cave? Has someone so decreed?"
The wolf snarls, "If you go in there, there won't be enough left of you to eat."
"Oh my. THAT sounds Dire." Merlan says straight-faced and apparently sincere.
"But as much as I hate to deprive you of a meal, Well, I suppose I'd be more of a snack?, We REALLY do need to get in there and,... do what we need to do. Judging by our past encounters, we may just be a little tougher than the orcs."
Merlan shrugs,
"Look at it this way my good wolf. You don't seem to want us here. Fair enough. WE don't REALLY want to be here either. BUT we really DO need to go into that cave. It is important. To us and and to others."
"SO,... IF you let us enter the cave unopposed, and you are right, we will be dead and out of your fur. We will no longer be a bother to you."
"Likewise, IF you allow us to proceed, unopposed, and WE are right, we will finish our business and exit the cave, and leave immediately. ALSO to be out of your life."
"Surely the hunting here is not so scarce that you cannot allow us to pass? Just this once? I feel it only fair to warn you. We are much tougher nuts to crack than we may appear. We have fought bands of orcs, mutated alchemists, summoners private armies, and Dragonkin. And we have always emerged victorious."
The halfling looks sad for a moment.
"I was raised by a gnome Druid. he was a wonderful fellow. IF a bit crazy at times. OK, ALL the times. But he taught me respect for the wilds and those that live in them. I really do not wish any harm upon you and yours. But the last choice is, you try to stop us, and we are forced to defend ourselves. IN that case, you will not survive. And we will still enter the cave to do what we must. And that would be a true tragedy, to deprived the wilds, and the world, of all that you might accomplish in your life."
"Please good wolf, allow us to pass?"
The wolf shakes his head at Merlan's speech, "You missed the option where you walk away... Last chance."
Merlan looks confused, then perplexed.
The tiny wizard looks upwards, muttering to himself as his hands point at various unseen things, and end up crossing each other.
"Oh no, it was in there! A couple of times!" The halfling (finally) concludes brightly.
"It was right after the "We enter the cave and conclude our business" Part. THEN we walk away. See?" He asks cheerfully.
"Now, whether we enter the cave around you, over you, or THROUGH you? Is entirely up to you. I mean, I have MY preferences. BUUUUUUUT,... my companions aren't nearly so stuffy or particular as I am."
"You were right about the 'Last Chance' part though,..."
His companions can't tell if Merlan looks particularly determined, or sad. But his last statement leaves no room for misunderstanding about how he believes this is going to end.
Fiona holds up one hand as the ultimata start flying. "Hold!" she exclaims. Turning to her companions, but keeping her voice loud enough for the wolf to hear, she continues, "Much as I dislike being threatened, the wolf may have a point. We came here from curiosity, seeing the name on the map and thinking it might help us in our mission against the orcs. But we don't own this cave. Our commander has not granted us clear permission to trespass in this mission... if he even has such authority."
Pausing for breath and to glance over at the wolf, she grimaces. "I would very, very much like to meet this one's master, and learn what in this cave brings it the name of 'Orc-Death'... but not at the cost of a fight with someone we've no quarrel with. I say we withdraw."
Eloen lets her bowstring slack a little while she waits to see where this goes. Maintaining that level of tension is difficult anyway.
Merlan tilts his head, and a small smile as he jabs a thumb over his shoulder at Fiona.
"Sounds like SHE votes with you Wolfie! That's 2-to-1 so far. How about the rest of you?" Merlan asks cheerfully, (never letting his eyes leave the wolf.
Squeaks chitters at Merlan.
"What? NO you don't get a vote! No. I don't care if Tiny IS a canine too. HE doesn't get a vote either. So you can't speak for him."
The wolf growls, "Within lies a terrible creature able to destroy half a tribe of orcs foolish enough to wander in.... imagine what it could do to the likes of you."
He make a strange movement that you realize is the quadrupedal version of shrugging his 'shoulders', then settles down into the grass, "..at this point, you've annoyed me enough, I'll lick whatever bits are leftover and stuck to your armour."
Sahar picks her jaw up off the ground where it landed when Fiona recommended withdrawing rather than fighting. She blinks in some confusion.
"I was going to vote for going inside to see what is happening there, but if Fiona recommends withdrawing, it makes me doubt my own wisdom."
She addresses the awakened wolf. "Do you know which of the orc bands was half destroyed in this cave? Was it recent, or long ago? And do you have a name? I feel fairly certain it is not Wolfie, as our esteemed mage calls you."
The wolf growls proudly, "I am Tultulay."
Tultulay.... what a strange -- wait, did he mean Tulatulē? Or, written in Celestial... তুলতুলে? His name is ... Fluffy?
Merlan nods sagely at the name, as if he understands all now.
"Greetings, Tultulay. Do you know anything of the monster within besides it destroyed half an orc war-band?"
Sharisa snorts and steps restlessly, uneasy at the presence of a large predator, but Sahar keeps the reins tight and pats her neck reassuringly.