Bea thinks the idea of celebrating is "Lovely" though over the evening she spending more time jotting notes down, drawing out the citadel from memory, and talking to herself about the best way to accomplish the monumental task.
Sometime, after drinks and piles of ham and biscuits, she announces the 'plan' which starts with "Cleaning." she points to the charts she has drawn up, with multiple colors of logistic calculations and materials, droning on a little before she asks "Any questions?"
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Most people are too fearful of the citadel still, but with some cajoling a handful of youths agree to help out with the restoration works, in exchange for vague promises of future riches.
Bea drafts up a most efficient schedule where everything has been accounted for, and multiple contingency plans are included in the eventuality of obstacles, accidents, failures or other unforeseen circumstances. Even professional craftsmen are amazed by the thoroughness and precision, and some of them being to look regretful that they didn't join this venture from the very beginning. "With a supervisor like this, it's almost a pleasure to do the work," mutters one of the dwarven employees of Tuskhead Stoneworking, while his colleagues shake their heads in mute wonder.
Under Bea's excellent supervision, the small crew cleans up the citadel in a record time of 3 days, disposing of the broken furniture, rotten rugs and tapestries and the mounds of junk left behind by the Hellknights and other erstwhile inhabitants of the citadel.
Two incidents occur during this time. One of them is quite predictable: Yoletcha, the bugbeag who had built a nest in the room that no doubt used to be the barracks, is both annoyed at the intrusion and opposed to the demolition of her home (and her implied relocation).
The other is a surprise - in the north-eastern corner of the citadel, north of in the room resembling a courthouse, the exterior wall has collapsed and the ground has subsided, resulting in the formation of a pool among the rubble. What appears to be a corpse wearing silvery armour is lying on a muddy lump in the center of the pool, and as one worker walks close to the water, the mound lurches out of the water to attack. Luckily, the man avoids the creature, which resembles no animal anyone has ever seen. Six clawed, powerful legs hold up a massive body that looks like a cross between a toad, a turtle and a fish, the shell on its back moss-covered and full of long, menacing spikes. Small, bright yellow eyes sit on the sides of its head, above a toothy maw twisted in a perpetual grin.
It grumbles as the worker jumps out of the way and slinks back into the water. Moments later, a gurgly, high-pitched voice can be heard. "But what of the treasure, hmm? Look at that shiny armour, don't you want it? Don't you want the treasure?"
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Hammid descends upon Yoletcha - whom he has never met - in an attempt to convince her to cooperate with her own relocation or reconditioning.
He bows to her "I am Moonlight" the briefest formality "This property has been seized by legal means, and so, you find yourself at the following impasse. That is either to leave, or, to negotiate. As to the former, it would be a matter of collecting your things and finding a quieter place to hereafter call home. As to the latter, though I don't speak for all the property owners, I believe I can assist in arbitrating the new terms of your continued occupancy, which would likely involve some exchange of services. What say you?"
When someone brings the creature in the water to her attention, Bea is fascinated. "" she yells from cupped hands and a good distance away. "ARE YOU HUNGRY?" she assumes most things get hungry and she REALLY wants to see it for herself, such an ingeniusly interesting creature from the description, she wonders if she has ever heard of it before...
As Hammid goes ham on the bugbear in legalese, Beau watches and learns. Is this what it's like to be a landlord? Or worse, a lord?! He scratches the back of his head and decides he has to mull on it some more later.
"I'd strongly consider his offer. If you think there are many of us now, know that there will be more of us soon, and we're here to stay." The words are obviously not meant as a threat, going by Beau's calm tone and genuine desire to resolve this without violence, but he does know that sometimes you need to use leverage to get yourself into an advantageous position. And one versus many is something they got going for them against the bugbear.
The bugbear looks a little dazed at the avalanche of words, frowning as she tries to keep up. In the end, she shakes her head vigorously, as if trying to dislodge something in her ear. "You make too much noise. But I see you are with Karana-who-was-alone, so I will not eat you." She glares at the frenzy of activity around them, with workers carrying loads of rubbish outside, dismantling old, rotten furniture and periodically sneaking anxious glances her way.
"It is too noisy here. Too many people. I will leave."
Yoletcha ducks back into her bunkbed fort, re-emerging after a few moments with a bundle wrapped in the tattered remains of a velvet curtain. She nods once to Karana and the others, then begins striding out of the room, Breachill workers scattering out of her way.
Bea recognizes the creature as a graveshell, a dangerous ambush predator that draws prey near by using the corpses of its former victims as lures, impaled on its shell spikes. It can withdraw into its shell when threatened, making it more difficult to hurt it, and it can attack with its maw, claws, and shell spikes.
It cocks its head to one side, its constant grin unnerving. "Hungry? Yes, hungry. Come closer, small one."
Karana says to the bugbear, ”I am so sorry… I am part owner, so if you cannot find a new place, I will welcome you should you return. It will not be noisy once this place is repaired.”
She approached the hungry creature.
”What exactly do you eat?” she asks, relatively certain Bea would make a hearty meal. As would I, as did the former owners of those skulls!
Gofran puts his hand on his sword, even if he keeps away from the creature. He studies it, just in case. "Bea... be carreful... based on the dead man on its back, this crreatures probably vants to eat you."
"Indeed it does" Bea agrees with Gofran, without a hint of worry, more like wonder. "Do you like mutten?" Bea helps lead the conversation away 'eating people'.
The graveshell extends its head towards Karana, sniffing. "Eat. Meat." It turns a yellow eye towards Bea. "What is mutten?" It licks its sharp fangs with a long, forked tongue.
"It is a soft plump creature but this much bigger than me, and wider like this, that goes 'Baaaa'" Bea gestures and bleats.
That seems to have its interest. "Where is this mutten? Can I eat the mutten?"
Bea turns to one of the workers that she recognizes as a butcher "Could I purchase a lamb from you, with very speedy delivery, and as alive as possible?" she looks back at the very big creature "Two, actually." she gives him a Please smile.
Turning back toward the creature, she says "My friend is going to get them for you, and yes you can eat them. Once they are here. But if you want them you will have to not eat any of the people."
"How long have you been trapped here?" she asks with genuine curiosity.
The butcher gives Bea a doubtful look. "Sure miss, but after it eats them, what then? We can't keep feeding it livestock, you need to get rid of it."
The creature settles back into the pond a little, only the spiked shell and its head visible. "Not trapped. Live here."
The cleaning of Citadel Altaerein completed in record time, the structure is now ready for repairs.
Beau can't help but think that Bea is playing a dangerous game. After all, her name is Bea, so what will happen when the creature hears one of us calling her by her name?! Surely it will act on its desires and imagine her to be a 'Baah' too, and attack!
The butcher is right. This won't play out well in the long run. He brings it up when they're nowhere near the graveshell. "Sooner or later it has to go. Where, I don't know, but it can't stay. Ah, I'm starting to sound like my great uncle now, he kept on preaching about the virtues of the hunt, the tenets of Erastil, and how to keep a community safe..."
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Not wanting to initiate anything, Hammid studies the creature from afar, trying to recognize whether it is of animal or undead nature...
↺) Scholarly Recollection
◆) Recall Knowledge
Scholarly Recollection (↺, Focus) Roll twice to Recall Knowledge, use better die result
Arcana (*) +8 via Ancestral Longevity
Lore: Desert (*) +8
Lore: Herbalism (*) +8
Lore: Osiria (**) +10 or +11 to Recall Knowledge about ancient history, peoples, and cultures.
Medicine (`) +3
Religion (*) +8
Society (**) +10 or +11 to Recall Knowledge about ancient history, peoples, and cultures.
Survival (*) +8 w/ Experienced Tracker
Untrained (`) +2 w/ INT or WIS
Hammid can confirm Bea's recollection, which is that this creature is a graveshell. Due to their large size and ungainly movement, they must employ the unusual hunting strategy of luring prey to them, usually humanoids attracted by the glimmer of potential treasure. They are somewhat intelligent, and if faced with overwhelming force they would surrender rather than fight to the death.
As Bea listens to Beau's assessment her cute face falls into a frown. Her eyes had been gleaming as much as the rest of the group's had when they found the litter of horrid little puppies. Meaning she finds the graveshell adorable. In retrospect, she has been probably spending too much time chatting with it while feeding it Baa-ing sheep.
"And what do you suggest doing to the intelligent..." she stops, her own nature forcing her to correct to "... semi intelligent creature who had its home invaded by US?[/b]" her lips form a line, her hands settle on her hips and she straightens as much as possible to look taller when she talks (though she is still ridiculously shorter than the rest of you).
Those of you that have spent a lot of time with her (especially the one sharing the room with her and her sisters) know by her tone she is trying to convince herself as much as everyone else).
Fueled by her new found friend, and a desire to make sure workers know where not to get close to, Bea organizes in a friendly fury. Clear marks have been made in the courtyard, maps have been drawn up, she's on hand to direct and answer.
All in all, Bea seems to have found her calling.
With Bea making such an amazing job organizing things in the citadel, Gofran helps whenever possible with any manual labor, but the remaining of his time he spends with the warg pups, trying to convince them of being good creatures like the dwarves.
Beau spends a late afternoon in the Pickled Ear with a purse full of copper and a mouth filled with promises of easy work and even easier coin. Of course, there's the journey to the citadel that might be longer than mentioned, and given the weather, more taxing than imagined. But promises of wealth and opportunities are merrily paired with ale, and Beau manages to obfuscate the obvious. For now.
Karana does her part to make sure those pups behave!
She’s a natural at it!
”Ohhh, good doggies—what fun!”
Besides taking care of the pups, the goblin chieftain is her best friends daughter. She does what she can to make sure they’re satisfied with the arrangement and treated well by the people.
Spurred on by coin, promises and the enthusiastic endorsements of Bea's organizational skills from previous labourers, people fairly line up to work on the citadel repairs, although not all are qualified and care must be taken to only select those who can actually do the work. Rorsk Axebane is all too happy to commit his skills and those of his employees to the work of repairing the stairs, which ensures solid craftsmanship. Even better, the scorching weather cools a little into merely hot, and then warm, as the days advance towards fall.
Gofran and Karana spend time with the warg pups, trying to contain their mischievous inclinations. The pups are eager for company, and keen to learn new words, pestering the dwarf and elf for words in Common, Elven and Dwarven, which then they smash together into clumsy sentences, or they repeat a new word hundreds of times while chasing each other, yapping and giggling.
After a week of concerted efforts, the stairs are finally repaired, allowing access to the lower levels of the citadel from the courtyard, and to Alseta's Ring.
Helba and Warbal are all too happy with the deal offered, and they organize the rest of the tribe to assist the cleaning and repairs. Although their efforts are more hindrance than help sometimes, the goblins are enthusiastic about it, and while many townspeople still view them with suspicion, no notable incidents occur beyond bickering over who gets which room, and endless debates over which areas are better.
Sweat and grime stain Beau's clothes when he finally gets to oversee the fruit of their labor. It fills him with a certain sense of pride, though the physical toll leaves him unable to truly enjoy it for he wants to do nothing more than to take a bath and then drink the night away. Blissful oblivion!
"Say, Bea, what would it take to fix the Ring? And I'm not just talking gold. Could you do it? Or would we need to find a mighty wizard of sorts?"
Bea's toil had all been mental and a BUNCH of administration, but she was equally pooped, sipping an ale at the table with Beau. "I can do it. Just need to find the time to do so." she sighed, looking back down to her notes for what tomorrow will bring.
"Patching the walls is next... hmmm"
While talk about the portal is being discussed by at least one of their party, Bea starts to organize clearing out the courtyard, while avoiding the cuddly monster that wants to 'play'
Which proves too difficult to manage in truth.
:(
Bea's insistence that the graveshell was not to be disturbed causes the workers no end of headaches and most of them don't want to go anywhere near it, causing work on clearing the courtyard to be greatly delayed.
Karana tries to support Bea. [b]”Oh, please do not delay. Surely the graveshell is not as grace as its name implies.”**
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"Miss, it snapped at me as I was passing with a load of timber, nearly took my arm off! As long as this creature is left free, me and my people are not setting foot in this place!" The forewoman crosses her arms in protest.
"Can't say she is vrrong, Bea... That thing do seem dangerrous." He says to the gnome. "It clearrly eats people, so even if be just chase it away, it might kill some innocent people."
Beau weighs in on the matter and tries to find a concession of sorts. "Maybe we can find it a new home to wherever the portal leads to. A big sprawling jungle, a lush forest untouched by us mortals, you know, something like that?"
He's round little face is pinched in irritation,boarding on down right angry. In her head she writes dissertations on why grave shells are good pets, she gives moving speeches on why they are better than wargs, even faces herself in the mental mirror about what makes something (or one) a Monster.
In the end she says a curt 'Fine' then goes down the stairs to work on the portal.
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"... you could visit it frequently, you know ... ", Beau tries with a feeble voice in a last (futile) attempt to make things right with Bea as she walks away.
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Karana says, ”Let me work with the Bumblebrashers. They like dangerous mascots, and I can even help them with the taming of the creature.”
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Most of the Bumblebrashers are ecstatic at the idea of having the graveshell as their mascot, and after the Big Bumble misadventures they may actually remember to feed their new "pet". With a little verbal wrangling and a promise of more sheep, the creature is relocated to a more out-of-the-way spot and the workers can continue the cleaning and repairs.
Bea is positively beaming when the plan for the graveshell is accepted. Now her brain can concentrate on the portal. Aided Beau's skill with traps and dexterous hands, the pair tinkers carefully until they know it is nearly all ready to open,
[occ]she can add in Beau's aid[/ooc]
It takes an hour of anxious and careful work, with Bea and Beau using the hunter’s arrowhead to guide the misaligned magic of the portal back into the proper pathways through the stone's intricate carvings and decorations. Bea is pretty confident that the portal should work now.
Beau's hands are shaking from the effort when they step back and take a look at their handiwork. Unlike Bea, he can't pierce the veil and see the streams of magic, or, have a look at the magical side and see if things are working as intended. "I think ... that looks about right?"
Bea steps back with him, studying the portal with her senses. After a few moments, she looks up to Beau, with a wide but tired smile "I think so too."
Gofran is very happy to see that most of the Bumblebrashers are happy to adopt the graveshell, which means that some of them are not complete fools. He tries to remember these few sane goblins and commit their names to his memory.
Gofran watches Bea and Beau work on the portal, his sword in hand just in case something, like more cultists burst through them.
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Portal fixed, adorable graveshield taken care of (NOT killed), and now...
"I'm going through the portal with the others." Beatrix said quickly. It was dinner time, eating alone in their room (with if she wants Karana since she is a cherished roommate).
After a shared sisterly look, "We know." says Whim. Peppercorn smiles "Even a new home and a new pet isn't enough weight to hold down our little sis."
"Is is okay?" Bea asked worried, as she does sometimes. Worried about why things that are enough for them, are not enough for her.
But both of them beamed at her, then abandoned their bowls of stew to have lots of hugs.
"ALways"
"We'll work on our Home while your out being a Hero"
"Yes, we are very good at Wood working"
"stop being dirty"
"Never"
"You better take Matilda!"
"But you can leave Karana. She's more snuggly."
By the time the hugs and banter and a few tears are over
With Bea and Beau's efforts, the portal is repaired, and touching the hunter's arrow to the carved frame causes the stone within the aiudara arch to turn into a churning curtain of gold-and-silver mist. Renali's eyes go wide, and she claps her hands together in excitement.
As the group begins to step through, the mists of the magical portal fade, revealing a 20 foot-wide passageway stretching off to the distance. The
walls of the tunnel seem to be made of hardened lava, long ago scorched and melted. Tiny cracks and fissures line the walls, within which an orange glow flickers, giving the tunnel a soft, fiery illumination. The wall of gold-and-silver mist from the portal glows from behind, while a similar faint glow beckons about a hundred feet ahead. The air is almost uncomfortably warm and smells of smoke.
As the last person passes through the portal, a tremor rocks the tunnel and clouds of bright orange and yellow sparks begin to rise out of the scorched and melted walls. Within seconds, blasts of fire and smoke pour out of the tunnel walls to coalesce into the burning form of a dragon.
The apparition hisses, plumes of smoke escaping its incandescent maw as it rears back and releases a torrent of flames that sweeps the entire width of the passage before it dissolves in an explosion of sparks and flames.
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Throwing himself into his work, our shady hero in his intensity of focus lost sight (temporarily) of his reason for coming to town, burying himself in another of his favorite pastimes: creating poison!
Gathering the formula and raw ingredients for a batch of Graveroot - bane of intelligent beings! - he gets to work slowly distilling the ichor from the maggot-infested shrubs collected from the local graveyard , combining them with other catalysts (ashen remains of elderly, spider cephalothorax, black mold...) to see if the chemical reaction produced was calculated with proper precision!
His eyebrows darken in sadistic glee as the resultant sap instantly kills the dragonfly subjected to it's field test , and spends the remainder of the two weeks bottling the black goo into handy vials , stowing them on his person for later use.
Arriving to see the portal opened, and torched, he admonishes the other party-mates for proceeding without him notwithstanding!
"...Unleashing an essence of Dahak - a great dragon of destruction. Next time please let me handle the aiudara!" for now, keeping the knowledge of his nighttime crafting a secret - especially from the dwarf!
Instead, opening a second portal to bathe the burnt flesh in positive energy.
After the bursts of fire and healing, Gofran frowns at Moonlight and turns to Bea and Beau. "I, on the otherr hand, trust completely in yourr skills and I do not believe this apparrition vas yourr fault."
"This apparition seems tied to this place somehow, and unless ve deal vith it, I fearr ve vill encounterr it again!" He tells the others. "Perrhaps ve can make a sincere prrayerr to a deity that opposes Dahak, orr perrhaps you can trry and redirect its energies back on itself in the same vay as you fixed the porrtal... orr perrhaps, it could even be possible to attempt to dispel its magic."
Bea winces but keeps from whimpering at the pain. Her violet eyes turn to the cleric's as he admonishes them, but his healing, a general feeling of how she would react if one forgot to invite her to a party like this, and the warm feeling at Gofran defending her and Beau make the irritation that might have bloomed drift away.
"It is nice that you could join us Moonlight, I apologize for our unthoughtful eagerness." she smiles, at him and the dwarf, then nods. "Let me try a dispel then..." pressing her small hands together, she presses her will against the magic, concentrating so hard it looks like her cheeks might Pop.
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It would be wise to exercise Proportional Concern!" amazingly - arrogantly - the admonishment continues "Were I not bound to your favor, I might..." sensing a brushing against a border of some nature with a low cunning - not unlike a hunting feline catching a scent - our shady hero captures his own tongue - instead changing the subject "If the ward holds, then what?"
Watching closely as Bea applies herself with a strong if crude dweomercraftiness...
As Bea pushes with all her will against the echo of the arcane manifestation, she feels something give. It is difficult to describe the exact feeling, but it is followed by a slight sensation of relief, of an unseen threat being lifted.
The gnomish sorceress lets out a relieved breath, relaxing noticeably. "I think the magic has been evicted... let me..." she quickly casts her magical senses out to blanket the area and see if she is correct (and if there are any others in the path). "Yes, all gone."
Beau trusts Bea's word, but the fresh memory of the fiery blast keeps him on his toes nonetheless.