Before Raurya helps with the wagon, she inspects the corpse of the big wolf with the strangely acidic bite.
"Something is very wrong with this creature," she mutters as she prods it gingerly.
Killian found his eyes fluttering open at the feeling of warm,caring hands tending to him. He found the kind face of Aurora swim into focus, pinched with concern as she tended to his wounds.
...T-Thanks, nice lady...he croaked groggily, a wan smile splitting his pale face.Hoooo...what a way to start my first week out of the monastery. Almost ending up in the meanest wolf's belly. Who finally put that thing down?
What had been his tunic had been discarded, the blood,bile, and mud cleaned away from his upper body and replaced with thick bandages. Whatever herbs and poultice she had applied had successfully staunched the bleeding, keeping them white and clean.
After about twenty minutes of the priestess' ministrations, the halfling was able to not only sit up but get to his feet unaided. He wobbled unsteadily before shuffling towards his fellow caravaners, using his monk's staff as a walking stick.
He was weary yet triumphant. Despite his first kill with the one wolf, proving he could indeed fight, he'd nearly died to the next wolf.
One that was bigger,meaner, and drooled acid, but still.
Yet he still stood. He had survived. And he would continue doing so as best he could.
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Investigating the wolf: (spending a few minutes before getting recruited to get the cart out of the mud) The wolf shows signs of inadvertent corruption, which seems organic or alchemical in nature. Not magical or mechanical.
You don't feel like you can get any more out of investigating the wolf now. But something is "wrong" around here.
After some cleaver work understanding mud and some brute force, you get the cart moving again, and make the final push to Etran's Folly before nightfall. Bort Promises the best dinner available at the Feedmill, the town tavern, for their heroic effort in protecting the caravan.
The journey takes only an hour, and the wagons roll into town a few hours before dusk. All of the wagons head for the Feedmill, the only inn and tavern in the small community.
Most of the simple wood-and-thatch homes in Etran’s Folly look identical to one another and are in a similar state of disrepair. A number of the houses clearly look abandoned, their roofs collapsed. If the characters ask about this, anyone in the caravan can tell them the community suffered heavily from the plague 20 years ago and has never fully recovered.
As they pass through the middle of town, the wagons go around the ancient plaguestone, a large, flat, cylindrical rock standing 2 feet high, with a hole in its center and a bowl-shaped depression off to one side. When the plague ran rampant, the townsfolk left food for the sick in the bowl, while the sick left coins in the center hole (which was filled with vinegar to cleanse the coinage of contamination). Today, the stone is nothing more than a moss-covered relic, although the villain in this adventure has deadly plans for it.
Upon arrival, the teamsters secure the caravan for the night while Bort travels around town to conduct business with the crafters and families that call Etran’s Folly home.
The Feedmill is busy with the evening's collection of Local
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You are met by Edra Wythe, the stable hand at the Feedmill. She greets you when the caravan arrives and immediately worries about the condition of the horses. Entering the tavern you meet by Delma and the rest of the staff at the Feedmill. Notably, the goblin Phinick is particularly shy around newcomers, even Grazmic.
It is early in the evening and currently only Hallod —a gigantic, brutish human man. Phinick is serving him food and drink, squeaking whenever Hallod demands another round. Bort makes arrangements for dinner for all, and you have an hour or so to relax and recover as evening falls and the tavern slowly fills with other locals.
The accommodations are simple, straw mattresses in a common room, but it is dry and warm and not outside. A significant improvement from sleeping in the caravan or on the road. Over the course of the next hour about a dozen and half locals make their way to the Feedmill. Notably: Farmer Eallom, Flonk the Bard, and Sir Lawren.
Kolnral and Trin are serving the guests tonight, while Delma tends bar and Amora is busy in the kitchen.
Today, the stone is nothing more than a moss-covered relic, although the villain in this adventure has deadly plans for it.
Grazmik is happy to be in the town, looking all around, amazed, even in it's run down state.
When the group enters the tavern, Grazmik lightly avoids the other goblin, barely giving him half a glance before trying to introduce herself to the others and talking with them. Eventually she settles down to rest after the day's hard work. It's a strange contrast to the constant talking for those who have seen Grazmik before, but she mostly just sits quietly, staring around and seemingly thinking.
As the time for dinner approaches Grazmik starts to come out of her reverie, and begins to make her way around the tavern, telling anyone who will listen to her retell the story of the grand battle with the wolves. Anyone but Phinick, that is. Again she somehow avoids the goblin as best she can, and glosses over his presence when she can't avoid him.
Killian gave a rather dismayed look at the state of the dying town but shrugged before deciding to make the most of it.
He appreciated the straw mattress he had access to rather than the wood flooring of the caravan wagon and his bedroll.
Still using his staff to lean on, mostly due to his lingering soreness, he wandered about the tavern to occupy himself. Aside from the mess hall at the monastery, he'd never had this sort of atmosphere to experience with such a variety of people.
Well, this is new...Different,for sure.
He saw the way the hulking Hallod treated the staff and scowled, painfully aware of an overbearing bully when he saw one. Big ol' meatheaded bully. Guess they're everywhere you go.
He found himself watching the second goblin he'd ever met outside word of mouth scuttle about underfoot, a startling doppelganger.
He found his hands curling into fists, a wave of melancholy diffused him. He was here to change. To adapt to be more.
He found it curious that Grazmik seemed to go out her way to avoid the only other goblin. Outright avoiding acknowledging he existed while he moved among them.
His curiosity peaked, he made his way to where the she-goblin sat.
H-Hail there,Grazmik. I noticed you're,uh,avoiding that guy there. Does he make you uncomfortable because you set yourself apart from the majority of your race? he awkwardly opened the conversation.Also, if it wasn't for you and Miss Aurora, I probably wouldn't be here. Your singing really bolstered us back there.
Meanwhile the alchemist has been carousing around town, he however isn't as silver tongued as his diabolic forebears...
"I swear by Aroden, I may look evil but under this facade beats the heart of gentleman and who's to say that devils holds no hope of redemption..? tries to flirt the Noble with the barmaids and any good looking person that he meets at the tavern, he fancies himself a suave seducer but his eccentricities just doesn't help him.
After situating her belongings and letting Eyas loose to hunt for the evening , Raurya joins Grazmik, Killian, and anyone else at the Feedbag. She eyes the prices for drinks, then sighs and takes a drink from her canteen instead, and joins the goblin and halfling at their table.
"Master Leadheel is correct," she chimes in. "Your help was indispensable. I never expected to be so pleased to hear a goblin battle chant."
Killian raised a fist with a grin to Raurya. And I heard you and your fierce little falcon brought down that slobbering beast that mauled me within an inch of my life. I dunno how I wasn't trampled in the mud or drowned in my own blood. But you have my thanks as well!
Grazmik shifts uncomfortably at the mention of the other goblin and starts to stutter out a a response, but it ends in a sigh of relief as the conversation moves on. "That was an exciting battle. It was great to be part of a real one, and not just acting it out. I think it'll help me understand some of the stories I'm telling." She pauses for a moment before turning suddenly to Raurya, "And you and your falcon! That was amazing. How do you get him to obey so well? And you fight so great together. I have heard tales of such companionships but to see it . . . Wow."
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Grazmik and Phinick play an entertaining game of I am seeing you! much to the quiet amusement of many of the locals, though none of them say anything to either of you. Expect Hallod, he occasionally yells at Grazmik to "git off yr'arse an' git me my drink" But Phinick quickly takes care of it.
Killian definitely picks out that Hallod is the accepted town bully, though you watch that most of the rest of the locals just leave him be. He also notices that the other goblin seems very attentive to dealing with Hallod. And when the bully mistakenly confuses Grazmik for Phinick, Phinick seems to be doing what he can as to keep Grazmik out of harms way.
Windgate finds the attention Sir Lawren Krent, In a very well inebriated speech he exclaims, "Another well breed gentleman finally graces this town. Oh I don't put much stock in ones physique, but I can tell just by how you hold yourself you are a man of quality. Come tell an old Knight what brings you to this nowhere." Then in a sotto voice. "And make sure you leave with your team"
Amoung the locals, Windgate notices Flonk the Bard, preparing for tonights entertainment, and one notable Farmer Eallom, drinking excessively and carousing with the other farmers.
Bort adds additional coloration to your tale with the wolves. With some notable liberites. He, of course, was bravely keeping the wagons secure, but does mention the valiant Killian facing the wolf in single combat, only to be felled, but still brave.
Killian winced at Bort's version of events, ears drooping, before giving a chagrined smile and rubbing at the back of his neck.
A-Ah,well, you're not wrong...I-I just tried my best and managed to survive is all. I clobbered one of the smaller wolves and then found myself savaged by the boss wolf. Which drooled acid. Much worse than the fleas the smaller ones had...
Killian gestured to his bandaged torso, the beginning of scars peeking beneath the thick cloth. The smaller scratches and bruises already scabbed and discolored.
Grizmak is taken aback the first time Hallod mixes up the goblins but after a few times she catches her bearings, taking on an exagerated goblin pronunciation, "One seccy sec." before turning away. Grizmak keeps a tight smile on her face and laughs at her impressions, then turns back to the conversation she's been having.
"You did do well Killian, you just gotta remember to not get bit next time." Grizmak gives the halfling a friendly elbow and a laugh. "But really you should stop worrying about your help in the battle. You did help, and you did live. Can't ask for much more."
"We're just passing by my good Sir, each of us have our own goals but work together while we're together, is just what any civilized gentleman would do, This town is surprisingly lively despite ominous name 'Plaguestone' but who am I to judge a book by it's cover?" says Wingate as he chats happily with the local knight but his attention quickly moves to the bard, what can he say? He just loves to enjoy the night with a good song and some company.
Killian listened to Grazmik and felt his heart swell.
O-Oh...Well, thank you, Grazmik! I appreciate it. I'm trying my best to be better. I'm...a bit of a coward. Lots of things scare me. And for good reason! Killian rubs the back of his bald head, smiling sheepishly.
At first he was leery about interacting with the goblin, what with her inhuman features sporting beady red eyes and too-wide mouth crammed full of teeth. But he realized she wasn't going to gnaw on the soft parts of his face, he relaxed noticeably.
He didn't nearly jump out of his skin when she prodded him with an elbow.He was used to getting snacks to the back of the head or tossed bodily by the other monks.
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Dinner is about to be served and Bort invites you sit with him at main table right next to Flonk. The food consists of many local wild game and roasted turnips with a side of burnt seed cake, coupled with watery turnip ale.
The meal passes as you swap more tales. Flonk makes a quick verse about the stalwart Killian, "Half as high, but twice the courage of any giant!" Other verses mention the rest of the party as well. But for now Killian near death makes for a better story.
Toward the end of the meal, just as a dessert of warm turnip porridge is being served, Kolnral accidentally bumps into Farmer Eallom as he is sitting down with another ale, causing the farmer to spill all over himself. Eallom stands up and starts yelling at poor Kolnral. Seconds later, Eallom begins throwing punches and knocking over tables.
Other locals jump in to try to calm things down but suddenly find themselves mixed in with the melee. With a few more pushed bodies Olf and Ulf their cups of ale broken and then jump in the fray, as the whole tavern erupts full out bar brawl.
Grizmak stands, pulling out her battered fiddle and begins to play. Anyone who knows the fiddle, can tell it was tuned different than usual, but it still somehow makes noises that are recognizable as music.
Grizmak pulls back and forth on her bow as music begins to fill the room. She turns toward the crowd of fighting farmers, and a quick strike of the strings sends a spray of color towards a group of them.
Ooooh...noooo.
Killian's ears drooped as he watched the peaceful atmosphere burst into a bar brawl. Something similar to rowdier meal times back at the monastery, which ended up him tossed bodily at another monk like a fleshy projectile.
Not wishing to suffer the same indignity, Killian scrambled to maneuver himself out of harm's way. He stowed his staff and darted away from Grazmik, who started up a jig with her bare feet smacking the worn floorboards as she struck out a ditty on her fiddle.
At first it was an ungodly screeching of strings that warbled and evened itself to an quick, upbeat tune. Then the goblin unleashed a spray of sparkling colors onto the brawling farmers.
Getting outta 'ere...he whimpered.
With an impressive series of twists and ducks, the halfling made his way across the room towards the kitchen. He dodged sweeping fists,falling bodies, and flung furniture.
Raurya pulls back from the mayhem, ready to flee to her room but scanning the room to see if anyone is in real danger first.
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Grazmik's colorful display dazzles and stuns a good number of the brawlers. Creating an opening for Killian to make his way to the kitchen only to see Phinick runs out the back through the stables.
Rauya surveys the scene and watches Bort start to clam the crowd down only to have a chair thrown at him.
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The brawl, weakened by the color spray still continues.
Each of you attempt to keep out of harms way
non-leathal
Aurora ad Raurya get some of the worst of it, while Windgate is able to keep completely out of the frey at the moment.
Sir Lawren flees out the front door followed quickly by Delma who seems to be in pursuit.
Round 1Aurora - 7 dmg;
Raurya - 7 dmg;
Killian - 3 dmg;
Windgate - 0 dmg;
Grazmik - 3 dmg
Killian manages to get clipped by a flying tankard and yelps, holding an ear.Ow!
He's incredulous as he was all the way within the kitchen when the wayward drinking vessel came sailing into it,bounced off the ceiling, and hit him.
Killian decided to remove himself entirely and went out the way he saw the goblin waiter go at the kitchen's rear.
That tankard got some distance...
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Despite the fighting around her, Grizmak is able to continue her music unhampered, even when she's unable to quite dodge a loosely aimed kick. The music rises to a crescendo, boosting her allies . She turns to the nearest fighting man and strikes a discordant note pointing it directly towards him
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Grizmak dazes one of the main agitators and he staggers and falls.
Trin gets hit with a mug and makes his way out the back with Killian. Killian hears Trin says something about her brother.
Aurora gets up and makes a passionate plea for peace.
The crowd halts for a bit and both Eallom and Kolnral, the ones who started the fight are currently both unconscious. Everyone kind of takes stock and while there is a pause Delma returns with Rolth Garley, the town’s sheriff.
The brawlers take a sheepish look as the realize that the parent is here now.
Grizmak winds her fiddle playing down to an easier melody before stopping. She then puts her fiddle away, surprisingly careful despite the instruments appearance, and turns towards the people she stunned in trying to slow down the fight. Grizmak begins to look over the wounds of anyone who would let her to make sure that no one is seriously hurt.
Killian took a look bout before he realized he had company.
What about your brother?
Raurya has retreated to a corner, glowering at anyone who comes near.
"Stupid clods," she mutters to herself, nursing a mug of ale and wincing at her new collection of bruises. "I just finished patching myself up after the fight with the stupid wolf . . ."
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You tend to the wounds of yourselves and the other patrons. Grazmik though is give a bit of wide berth after her dazzling display of fancy though non-lethal magics. Sheriff Garley acknowledges your restraint but otherwise dismisses you since you were not the problem.
He spends the next few minutes giving a stern talking to the instigators and tells them to lend a hand in giving the Feedmill back in order. And help around a bit to cover the costs. For many of the participants, this does not seem to be new or out of the ordinary, and some go about picking up some of the pieces.
Bort chuckles with the bump on his forehead. "Well it isn't a true caravan without at least on local uprising. But now that the revelries are done, time for dessert. The Turnip porridge is my favorite, and to die for!"
As you settle back to the main table, bowls have already been set out and Bort smiles at the large bowl in front of him. He digs in and starts telling the tale of on bar brawl that he took part in that spanned over three different pubs.
Grazmik scowls at the wary way some of the locals view her, but eventually shakes her head and returned to the table. She looks at her turnip porridge and sniffs at it. Only a moment or two though before she begins to devour it. Stopping only to admire Bort's fantastic method of telling tales.
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The porridge is quite tasty. And Bort eats it with gusto. Occassionally eating so fast as to forget to breath. And coughs a bit from time to time. However when he is over halfway though his bowl his coughs and struggles to breath.
Windgate and Grazmik both realize that he isn't choking on anything specific but it seems that his throat is swollen shut. Bort's spasms get the attention of both Delma and Garley while they are still chastising the brawlers.
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The voice that booms across the tavern from the front door is simultaneously vicious in its tone, and amusingly high in its pitch. Pushing his way through the front entrance, past the calming guests and table, and marching with a serious scowl over to the table Bort was eating at, the kobold Azzeryx stomped forward. A 3 foot tall picture of blustering majesty and draconic braggadocio stands as tall as he can, pointing a clawed finger at the dwarf right before he begins choking. Azzeryx is doing pretty much what he's been doing from the rear of the caravan the entire journey: using his extensive vocabulary to craft words into beautiful verbal clubs, and bashing them over peoples' heads. "I was promised a 'thriving community ripe for subjugation' and 'secret lairs of natural majesty in abundance' when you pitched your ridiculous route to me! And I have yet to see any sight that comes close to delivering on your grandiose claims! I demand we depart at once so that-!"
As Bort's choking worsens, however, Azzeryx's tirade comes to a halt as even he seems to catch on that something's wrong with the caravan master. "...don't think you can slither out of your obligation that easily, dwarf! Cease this charade!" However, as Bort continues choking, Azzeryx actually takes a step back and studies the dwarf, yellow eyes lighting up with magic as he tried to discern what was going on.
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The crazed kolbod rushes to greet and rescue his old friend only to have him die of asphyxiation in his arms.
There is some magic near by. But remembering that Bort had some personal magic rings a quick ping does not give you any useful information.
However Windgate's keen nose for the alchemical does get a whiff of poison from the bowl of porridge that Bort ate.
Delma and Rolth push forward though the gathering crowd. Quickly seeing your reactions they are sure enough that you are not the most likely cause. After spending some time looking over the body, Rolth proclaims "Well he is dead. And this a bit out of my depth. I am going to have to ask you all to stay around a while till the circuit magistrate makes it back here in a month or so"
Rolth talks to Delma and she starts shooing out the remaining patrons and begins to close down the kitchen and tavern for now. Sensing your protests. "I really don't know what to do here myself. I just keep the peace and deal with a few bar brawls and disputes from time to time. However, you look like a capable lot, and if you want to ask around and poke, I won't stop you. Heck, figure it out and the judge may even give you a commendation for saving her time."
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Azzeryx seems detached slightly as he looks over Bort's body. Nothing of note. He had no magic that could salvage the situation. For all of his berating and badgering of Bort, he had a remarkably useful ally. And someone took him from Azzeryx. "...I believe this is the first time I can recall experiencing a sense of loss." he stated simply, lifting a claw to close the dwarf's eyes. "I would like to break this sensation down further, but I'm afraid it is being vastly overshadowed by this wellspring of UNRELENTING FURY!!!"
Rising to his feet, looking ready to bite someone's head off (possibly literally), he huffed indignantly at Rolth. "Under normal circumstances, I would freeze you in place and be on my way. But someone has cost me a significant amount of time and trouble. And I greatly detest people who fritter away my time."
Azzeryx's line of investigation is simple and practical. In between the porridge being made and Bort eating it, someone had it in their possession. From mouth, to table, to delivery, to kitchen, somewhere in that process, someone poisoned the porridge. So the logical thing is to seek out whoever made and delivered it and determine who tainted the dwarf's food.
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Azzeryx starts tracking down the source. During the aftermath, Delma took the bowl back to the kitchen but has not done anything else with it. There is still some porridge left in it.
The poison is a uncommon poison know as Violet Breath, causing sickness and asphyxiation. It is also something that would not be lying around the area or easily made with the local resources.
You are fairly certain that making or buying the poison is beyond the skill/means of the Feedmill staff.
The main pot of porridge is not tainted. Delma recounts that they were in the process of serving up the poridge right before the brawl broke out. So Bort's bowl was left unattended during that time. She herself was in the taproom most of the evening. Amora was in the kitchen as is her domain, and Trin and Kolnral were in and out serving. Though after the fight Trin was gone, as well at Phinick, so she did some serving of the porridge. Delma was the one who did bring all the bowls to the main table.
"We all love Bort here. His stories are fun and he always raves about the food. Not sure how much he means it, but it is nice either way. And made sure all bills are settled full and usually a little extra for the staff."
Kolnral and Amora answer your questions and corroborate what Delma stated.
Both Trin and Phinick are currently not here to be questioned.
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The rest of evening passes without additional events as you are shown to your room. As you are settling in Tamli enters. "This has been quite an evening and I am hoping you can get to the bottom of this. I brought Bort's books up for you to examine, just to see if there are any clues there to help you"
The books are large and filled to the brim with details. You uncover that Bort visited Etran’s Folly at least 22 times in the past decade, and about five years ago the merchant started making deliveries labeled “reagents” to someone referred to only as “H,” receiving rather large sums of gold in exchange. These deliveries are numbered, starting with 1 and ending with delivery number 14, which occurred the day the caravan arrived in town today.
At this point the following people were at the fight but have not been questioned by you:
* Trin Left during the fight when a mug hit her on the face
* Phinick Left at the beginning of the fight scurrying though the stables.
* Sir Lawren Sneaked out the front during the commotion.
* Kolnral and Farmer Eallom who started the fight
Who/what would you like to investigate the following morning.
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Azzeryx seemed all the more convinced that somewhere in between the porridge being set into a bowl and the eating, the food was poisoned. That meant, whoever was handling food was the likely suspect. As to why, Azzeryx was far less concerned. He had been slighted - the reason was inconsequential to him. For better or worse.
Although he was no expert on whatever Bort was working on, Azzeryx stayed up reading through Bort's logs. He was none too versed on the dwarf's business that didn't concern him, but if someone meant him harm, he wanted to know who it was. They would be dealt with severely.
Sadly, Azzeryx wasn't able to deduce much beyond his anger. Every name seemed like a likely suspect to him.
Come the morning, the kobold roused the others and huffed as he spoke. "...unbelievable. This is an unprecedented set of affairs, but a dragon does not conduct business without his Talons, or a Herald to sing his praises and legacy. And, unfortunately, I am forced to resort to drastic measures." He leveled a clawed finger at Grazmik. "You sing, yes? Bah... that will have to do. You shall be my Herald. As for you two..." He narrowed at Killian and Raurya. "You'll pass for Talons. For now. Now come! Your dragon patron has scores to settle. We start with this... Trin woman. She was serving. She had opportunity to poison the food. We interrogate her first."
Getting the location from Delma, and not waiting for the others to acquiesce to his nonsensical ramblings, Azzeryx marched off to find Trin.
Killian,at the tavern's rear exit, rubbed at his bald scalp for any additional bumps or bruises. He glance at Trin, who was nursing what seemed to be a swelling eye from catching a tankard with her face.
Oof. That looks pretty painful. i can help if you need. i know a bit about patching up. killian offered.What did you say about your sibling? Was he in the brawl?
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Delma freely lets you know where Trin and her brother reside.
Trin and Marny live on a small turnip farm on the southwest side of town. Although the farm has been struggling this year, the siblings get by on their combined income.
However when you arrive, you see someone, who is most likely Marny, running from the woods. He is panicked and you see why very soon. A wild pig is chasing him.
Raurya curses as she draws her bow and nocks an arrow.
"All the animals in this place are mad, I swear."
She glances around at her companions. "Any other suggestions other than trying to bring it down? I'd rather not hurt an animal we don't need to, but we don't have much time for discussion."
Killian rushed out into the open when he saw Marny fleeing, clapping his hands and shouting at the boar.
Oi! Cut that out. Bad pig!
Grizmak grabs the books and instantly begins to look through them for any information. It takes her a long time, reading does not seem to be her strongest attribute, but she's able to pull something out through her understanding of the world of Merchants. She brings it to her new friends. "It seems Bort had a regular delivery of something called 'reagents' to a person named 'H.' We might want to find out what that's all about."
Grazmik looks confused at Azzeryx as he appoints Grazmik to be the kobold's bard. But as the others follow along, she finally shrugs and says, "This may be interesting to see."
When the pig comes charging out of the woods, she hesitates only a moment before she pulls out her fiddle and begins to pluck at the strings. "This might do," she says as somehow the sounds begin to pull together until the growl of a bear can be heard, just before it gives a bit of a roar.
Killian saw Trin hurry off,nursing a welt above her eye,and then remembered he saw the goblin waiter shoot off through the stables.
He cautiously made his way back into the tavern proper as everything seemed to be handled and everyone had regained their senses. He checked on Raurya,who had set up in a corner defensively.
Way to start the night,huh? You alright there?
Killian had finished his morning meditations and katas and came back to the common room to rejoin his companions.
When Azzeryx stormed in and proceeded to take leadership of their loose group, appointing Grazmik as his personal troubadour with all the air of a high noble. When the kobold with regal airs jabbed a talon at him, he flinched in bewilderment.
...W-What?? Who even are you? What makes you think I'll be your Talon or henchman or whatever?
Finding his spine, Killian straightened to his full height of 2'11" and squared his shoulders. I'm just here to repay Bort for giving me a ride from the temple. Y-you can't just boss me around. I had enough of that from the other monks!
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Azzeryx hummed as Grazmik assessed the situation. H... must have been an abbreviation. Clever. The question was, were the two connected? For now, Azzeryx simply growled and let it be. It wasn't immediately clear if this 'H' was behind the poisoning... though he might be making popsicles of them if they were.
Raurya was quiet. Azzeryx liked that. Made things smoother. Grazmik seemed slightly caught off by her new responsibility, but who wouldn't? This was such short notice to be informed that you were to extol the glorious fury of a mighty dragon! But Killian... poor naive little halfling. At the question of who he was, Azzeryx halted in his tracks and turned around slowly to glower at him. "Who... am I?" Oh boy... "I am the incarnation of the north winds themselves. The herald of ice and frozen fury. Seer my name into your memory and do not forget it, mortal. I am Azzeryx, the Winter Dragon, reincarnation of the mighty North Wyrm, Azzerthynnox... and you are my Talon. I recognize this is a duty you may not be prepared for... but you are, for better or worse, my best selection to ensure that those who address me know to rightfully stand aside and bow their heads. Or beg for mercy at slighting my rightful subjects like Bort."
His yellow eyes traipsed up and down Killian's figure, before huffing and turning to continue marching off. "...your imposition needs work. Good spirit, however, you've got the idea."
As the boar came barreling out of the forest, Azzeryx locked eyes on it, before sighing and shaking his head. Evidently, he'd have to step in and do it... time to show them why he was The Winter Dragon! "Wrong, wrong... you serve at the pleasure of a white dragon! Act like it!" Stepping up, Azzeryx let out a growl, before bellowing at the boar and commanding it to drop prone (and prostrate before his glory, if it had the capacity to do so).
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Azzeryx snarled back at the boar as it had the audacity to turn its temper on him. HIM!? Clearly, this boar did not know who it was dealing with! Time for a demonstration in a way only a dragon could deliver! "Talons! I believe a boar dinner is in our future! Bring me an apple and that boar's head! NOW!"
As he spoke, orbs of light started to coalesce in his claws, swirling about in his grip before expanding and flying right for the offending boar and impacting with raw arcane might.
Knowing the boar would either press its assault in a rage or flee, Killian decided to step up to force it to do the latter.
Then again, it was no wolf but still dangerous. But also delicious when cooked.
Much more favorable than turnips...
Dmg
Dmg
Back off,pork!
His fingers hooked to mimic the fangs of a wolf and he struck out with thrusting fists, the power of his blow driving his fingers through the boat's thick hide to leave dribbling wounds and deep gouges.