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Sull accepts the group's condolences with gravely sorrowful nod, but remains focused on the matters at hand. "In time, I should like to hear more about your god, Merixia. However, there are yet more pressing matters to attend to - perhaps you will share tales with me later today."
His lips quirk slightly at their willingness to do battle with the traitors. "Your passion to serve the cause of all that is good is admirable. I had hoped you would be willing to listen to my request, for these traitors blemish the name of our hidden folk, and may yet prove a greater threat to Neathholm."
He returns to his chair, sitting down with a heavy sigh, breath whistling through his jagged teeth. "To answer your question, Thesius... no. I know not the number of surfacers that have allied with this tribe of traitors. The traitors number fewer than we who live in Neathholm - they were little threat to us in the years of mine own youth."
"Inasmuch as we are aware, the traitors number only a fourth of our own - perhaps ten or twelve, though they may have gathered more to their banner in the months since our last information arrived." Sull scratches at his whiskers.
Lann rasps a suggestion. "Should we not ask Meron about what she recalls of her time there?"
"Only if she volunteers it when she hears of these heroes' efforts." Sull says firmly. "I will not have her return there, even in her memories, should it be helped."
He turns his attention to the others. "One of our number was captured some months ago, whence our information comes."
Looking to Verene, the elderly man continues. "We will offer what we can. I shall hope to rally those tribes that are yet loyal to the cause of our ancestors, that we might offer greater assistance in the future. However, none may know what will come to pass. We will take the fight to the demons, as we can, but until we know more of what has happened above, the most we can do is aid in minor ways."
After a moment, he chuckles. "No, we do not have a proper name for ourselves. Once we realized we had taken steps away from humanity in full, we were already divided into our small tribes, and none of us cared to name ourselves officially. Or so the tale goes. The preferred name here is forgotten children, but others may have different names."
Elliot nods gravely. "I think I can speak for all of us when I say we'd be happy to fight our way out through these traitors. And anything one of yours can tell us about them would be good to know. Though I imagine it might be painful indeed for Meron to relive memories of being captured by demonic cultists, and wouldn't want to pressure her. It's probably more important to our success that we have a moment to rest and ready our spells."
"With that in mind, we will be outnumbered. I agree with Elliot that we should recuperate while we have the time. Despite our wishes to get back to the surface as quickly as possible, we'll be worthless to those above if we fall down here. We could perhaps take this time to learn what we can of the environment as well. Perhaps there is something we can use to our advantage."
He turns to address the group while posing an idea. "It may also be beneficial to part with anything we do not need at this juncture. Some of it may be beneficial to the village as well. What are your thoughts?"
Lann rasps a suggestion. "Should we not ask Meron about what she recalls of her time there?"
"Only if she volunteers it when she hears of these heroes' efforts." Sull says firmly. "I will not have her return there, even in her memories, should it be helped."
"Yes, do not disturb Meron's peace of mind. If she wishes to share something after learning what we wish to do, then we will wait and not press her."
Having listened to the reasonable argument presented by Elliot and Thesius, Elyda responded, "I agree with my male companions. It certainly is wise to rest, recover and prepare spells before we take on a new enemy. I am also open to parting with some of the items we carry yet cannot use."
"We will offer what we can. I shall hope to rally those tribes that are yet loyal to the cause of our ancestors, that we might offer greater assistance in the future. However, none may know what will come to pass. We will take the fight to the demons, as we can, but until we know more of what has happened above, the most we can do is aid in minor ways."
After a moment, he chuckles. "No, we do not have a proper name for ourselves. Once we realized we had taken steps away from humanity in full, we were already divided into our small tribes, and none of us cared to name ourselves officially. Or so the tale goes. The preferred name here is forgotten children, but others may have different names."
Verene nods. "That makes sense. I hope one day the forgotten children of Neathholm will be forgotten no longer, but valued allies, free to come and go as they please.
"But that is getting a bit ahead of our current predicament. For now, I agree with my companions that we should prepare for our next steps. Thank you, Chief Sull, for the kindness you have shown a group of lost strangers this day. We will not forget it."
”I agree with my companions. A chance to sleep in safety sounds wonderful, and we really need to get rid of the gear we can’t use if possible.” Merixia points a clawed thumb at the glaives sticking up over her shoulder from where she strapped them to her pack. ”May your gods bless and keep you for welcoming strangers into your home.”
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"No, you have already aided us far more than we have helped you." Sull says gravely. "Lann, could you guide them to Iomar's old residence? I know your father will wish to see you, as well."
The younger man waves a spade-clawed hand. "Follow me, if you will." He leads them through the village, where many forgotten children look at the surfacers curiously, but keep their distance. Somehow, the heroes suspect that Lann will be bombarded with questions once they are no longer nearby.
Soon enough they arrive at a small stone hut with a fungiwood door. Carved on the doorframe is the same holy symbol of Iomedae piercing an image of Aroden's Eye that weeps blood. "Iomar is a devout sort. He hopes to become a full priest of Iomedae when he achieves sufficient devotion." Lann says by way of explanation.
The hut is small, but cozy, with three beds (one sized for two, the other two for one each) and a small table with a single fungiwood chair. "It's... not much, but I'm afraid it's the only home that's free." Lann looks somewhat abashed.
Nevertheless, after making sleeping arrangements the heroes settle in for the night to prepare for the following day.
The next morning - or at least, what is probably the next morning - the group awakens, and after their daily preparations, find that there's plenty for them to do - as they wish it.
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Thesius takes the home in slowly, it had been sometime since they had a secure place to sleep within the confines of a settlement. There was a reassurance there he more profoundly appreciated now. Making note of the furniture, he quickly realizes that there is not enough space for each of them to take a bed, so he steps up to take the floor. "I still have my bedroll and the one we repaired earlier on. Seeing as there are not enough beds for all of us, I will take the floor."
With that he will remove one of the bedrolls and place it on the nearest bed for someone else before taking the other and rolling it out in one of the corners of the room. Silently settling in before taking out his journal and starting to record their findings and going over what they have currently with them.
Thesius starts to sort through the gear as he inventories it once more. Separating items to be sold and kept as best he can, taking into account anyone's interest in items. He is pretty sure they are willing to part with the glaives, the spiked gauntlets, one of the masterwork chain shirts, the hand crossbow with bolts, and his old leather armor.
He is not sure about the light steel shield, the masterwork warhammer, and marble statue and inquires of the party of the items, "What are your thoughts on selling these items? The shield feels as if it could be of use, but the hammer and statue I'm not sure I see a use for at this juncture in our journey. The ring, drow coins, and unholy symbol seem like things we may wish to bring with us for once we return to the surface."
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At the threshold of the small stone hut owned by the acolyte Iomar, Elyda took in the holy symbol carved on the doorframe. Upon Lann's words, Elyda replied quietly (but in a volume that could be heard and understand by those nearest), "I am familiar with the devout, Lann, and it does not trouble me. Iomar's resolve and devotion to Iomedae is honourable." The young inquisitor smiled gently before stepping inside the hut.
Elyda cast her eyes about the interior. "You and your people have gifted us with sanctuary, Lann. The size of the hut or what furnishings it has is of little importance. Thank you."
As Thesius offered to sleep on the ground on his bedroll, she decided to she would as well, for they had civilians among them who would require one of the cots to rest and recuperate. "I will also sleep on the ground for I have a bedroll." The inquisitor pulled out her bedroll and laid it down; placing her packs to the side of it. Rotating her sore muscles in an effort to relieve the pinch and tightness between her shoulder blades, Elyda watched as Thesius took inventory and scribbled things down in his journal.
"I am good with what you wish to sell, Thesius. I will keep the extra rations, two flasks of oil, the set of caltrops and the spare, ten foot rope with me for we may have a need for those as we continue in these caverns or even beyond, once we reach the surface. Someone can make use of the fine warhammer and steel shield"
Remembering; she looked around the group, before adding, "If anyone is hungry, I have spare food to share."
Though she notes the apparent lack of any young children in the small village as they follow Lann, Verene does not inquire about it, but only smiles and nods to any of the forgotten children who make eye contact.
"It's... not much, but I'm afraid it's the only home that's free." Lann looks somewhat abashed.
"To be perfectly honest, after the trials of the past twenty-four hours, it looks like bliss," Verene adds frankly. "Thank you, Lann, for everything."
She sighs as she drops her backpack and sits on one of the beds, truly safe for the first time in what already feels like an age. For a long minute she rests her elbows on her knees, buries her face in her hands and stops thinking of lurking dangers, or the fate of Kenabres, or her nightmares of the future, or anything at all. Then she straightens, practical again.
"A bedroll will do for me, as well. Certainly it is better than the stone floor of yesterday. I think we have between us at least four bedrolls and four beds, for eight people, so there should be little difficulty." Although she would in truth prefer a bed, they do have injured people, and one who might fuss at not being given a bed when one is available. Best to nip any unpleasantness in the bud.
"Perhaps we should spare the preserved rations, Elyda, and see if we can trade for fresh food to eat as long as we are here. I support seeing what we can barter for the items Thesius suggests, as well as the marble statue, warhammer, and steel shield. It seems the warriors of the group are happy with their current weapons and armor, or they would have been claimed already.
"As far as barter goes, I would like to speak to Seer Opoli in particular, to see if she has the necessary inks and components for copying spells, or perhaps additional useful potions we could trade for."
Verene attempts to decipher Millorn's bizarre system of notations and crabbed handwriting on the spell Elyda indicated was magic missile for only a few minutes before giving up in disgust. "This is a waste of time, and giving me a headache. Thesius, if you are going to try to trade with our hosts, would you mind if I accompanied you and helped you carry some of the load?"
Merixia looks at the beds, then at her companions. "I should volunteer to take the floor too, but I'm too tired to argue. Verene, want to share the double?"
As Thesius begins going over their loot, Merixia adds the glaives to the pile. "I prefer my buckler to the shield, since I don't have to drop it in order to cast spells. And unfortunately I never learned to use a warhammer. I would like to keep the unholy symbol to show any of our superiors who might have survived in Kenabres."
Time to find some breakfast! Hopefully fresh food rather than dried rations. "I'll come with you too and carry things. Maybe we can get, I don't know, cave fish or something to eat. I wonder if Seer Opoli makes healing potions?"
"If you're sure you don't mind, that would be wonderful, Merixia. Thank you," Verene says with feeling.
Elliot temporarily excuses himself on grounds of following and guiding his teacher to Borr the Storykeeper. Once there, he learns what he can and asks lots of questions regarding his people; what had happened to the first Crusaders that came here, why they looked the way they did, how many other tribes there were, what they ate down here, what their major customs were... the list went on, and in fact did, until Borr grew too tired to continue.
Once he arrives at the house, he is bemused to learn that everyone offered to sleep on the floor when there were four proper beds between the six of them. "I'd offer to use my bedroll too, if only not to feel left out! Though honestly, sleeping in a proper bed does sound tempting, and who knows when I'll get to try one of these again, if ever? Here's for science!"
He lowers himself on the many-coloured fungus-like bed. "Hm... doesn't feel half bad, actually. Hm... wonder if I'll have strange or vivid dreams inhaling mushroom all night?"
Realizing he was sharing a room with three women, though, he then sits up. "Oh, and I'll ah, avert my eyes if needed. Or leave if anyone has to dress? Your choice! Though... I don't feel like I'll be awake that long anyway..." He yawns, and drifts to sleep soon afterwards.
Feeling quite refreshed, Elliot goes to the edge of the water and inspects it for anything strange. Failing to find something and unless warned, he washes his face and torso with the cave's water. Then, he approaches the docked boats and asks any natives nearby what they were used for. If for fishing, he asks to come along to attempt to catch everyone fish breakfast.
"The company and help would be appreciated," Thesius replies to Verene and Merixia at the offer of help. "Your input on items we may need will be useful as I say I've not faced many excursions within my recent years and would hate to forget something because of my inexperience."
He then takes the time to resort his bag and eat one of his rations before bedding down for the night.
In the morning he will stretch out his muscles, glad for a restful night's sleep without the feeling of constant danger. His dreams were not sound because of fear what happened above, but at sleep found him.
Once done, he takes the time to store his bedroll away and interacts with Verene and Merixia once they awake. Each taking a share of the items to barter with.
"Verene, you do seem to have a way with words even beyond my own. Might you care to take the lead in the negotiations as we barter for what we need? Ah, and we might wish to seek out Lann to garner his help as well."
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Before sleeping, Verene leaves the house and attempts to find Lann, or at least someone who will talk to her and can sell her some fresh food. In trade, she has surface coin, or the two flasks of lamp oil she means to get rid of anyway, if barter is preferred.
If she's able to find some food, she eats that, but if not, she takes Elyda up on her offer of trail rations for herself and Thamyris. Then she curls up on one side of the spongy fungiwood bed to sleep. As always, she falls asleep easily; and her dreams are only blackness, and hissing voices in a language she does not speak.
Verene wakes and takes her spellbook outside the hut to prepare spells so that her muttering to herself as she memorizes won't wake anyone. With a good night's sleep and a clear head giving her a newfound confidence, she tries mentally holding on to two more spells at a time, and slightly surprises herself when she succeeds. She also changes up her list a bit: read magic, detect poison, ghost sound, and message for cantrips, in case of a need for stealth when scouting the way ahead for demon cultists, and snowball, color spray, mage armor, and identify for first-order spells.
She casts detect poison on the vial collected from the drow woman, just to be sure.
An hour after waking, she is ready for the day.
"Verene, you do seem to have a way with words even beyond my own. Might you care to take the lead in the negotiations as we barter for what we need? Ah, and we might wish to seek out Lann to garner his help as well."
"I would be happy to try." Verene leaves Millorn's spellbook with Elliot so that he can learn from it if he wishes while they go to negotiate with some of their hosts. Along with Thesius and Merixia, she will look for Lann first, in case he has any advice to offer about whom they should talk to or how to bargain.
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With Verene wishing to trade for fresh food rather than use up their additional rations, Elyda gave a nod, "As you wish, Verene."
On the floor of the stone hut, sitting cross-legged on her bedroll, Elyda took one of her personal trail rations and nibbled on the food, washing it down with some water. If Verene and her thrush wished for some food, then the inquisitor happily shared the food from the additional stores she was carrying. Repacking her pack (now a little lighter with the items taken out that Thesius would sell), Elyda removed her weapons and placed them within easy reach and then sat down again. She closed her eyes in quiet contemplation, shutting out the general chatter in the space, before praying silently to her Lady before lying down and falling asleep.
Elyda rose and attended to her morning ablution, dressing and placing her weapons on her person. Rolling up her bedroll, she readied her pack and broke her fast with her own rations. If any of her companions were hungry, she shared the extra rations with them.
Noting that her companions had already formed groups or gone off on their own to attend to their designated tasks, Elyda relayed to the party, "I would like to investigate whether any of the forgotten children know more about the traitors and their cultist allies. I do not wish to press the delicate Meron, however she may have shared what she knows with others. I will come with you to find Lann, and, when you go to barter, I will ask him to introduce me to the appropriate person or people as I wish them to feel somewhat at ease with my presence and questions."
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Horgus remains eerily silent for the entirety of the preparations to sleep, though he takes one of the beds as a matter of course. The following morning, he does not awaken with the rest of the party, though that hardly seems a problem at the moment.
Verene, Merixia, and Thesius search for Lann, but before they find him, they find Crel, looking uninjured, as he approaches their borrowed hut. "Ah, my saviors! Good, you are already up and ready. Seer Opoli wished me to inform you about your friends. While there was not much that she can do for Anevia, Aravashnial had some heavier wounds that she was able to heal. Not his eyes, unfortunately, but some of his other injuries are healed now." His beak-like mouth opens in what is probably a smile. "Though she is somewhat tired of Aravashnial's questions about how much magic we have, and how our community has maintained the traditions..." A burst of chirping laughter fills the air.
"So, what plans have you for this day?" He asks, his eyes growing grave.
Unfortunately, most of them don't know much about the traitors or their cultist allies, though they are more than happy to share what they do know - mostly the same things as Sull told the heroes the previous day, though she does learn that they used to send more scouting parties up to the surface, back before the traitors settled where they are now.
However, after about two hours of talking, a female(?) forgotten child approaches her. With three solid black eyes (two on one side of her face, one on the other) and a single long, blackened arm ending in draconic claws, she nods slightly at Elyda. "You seek information about the traitors. I am Meron, and I know more about them than any here. What do you want to know?"
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"I am glad to see you doing better Crel and thank you for delivering the news of our comrades to us. Today we have an abundance of goals. Those among us currently seek to find information on the traitors we will soon be facing," he says while gesturing to Elyda, "and preparing ourselves for the journey through the procurement of supplies. We had hoped that Lann or someone might be able to help us with these tasks as we are yet to familiarize ourselves with the town and it's inhabitants."
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Merixia chuckles at Crel's description of Aravashnial. "Yes, that sounds like Aravashnial. I'm glad that Seer Opoli was able to help him." She hefts the glaives that she's carrying. "We're looking for breakfast and someone to trade these with. Also, do you have any kind of sparring ground, a clear area where I can practice my sword forms? I like a more active form of prayer when possible." As a martial empyreal lord, Ragathiel approves of his faithful keeping their skills sharp. At least that's what Father Darian says, and Ragathiel has always granted Merixia spells when she prays while practicing. Regular sitting-down prayer works too, but she feels closer to him with her sword in hand.
Well, if you are looking for food and the like, Orin handles a lot of the supplies that our hunters bring in, as well as the surface goods that we traded for in the past. Not a great deal of that remains, but still we have some. Perhaps it will be of use to you? Seer Opoli has items of a more mystical bent, potions and suchlike, as well."
Storykeeper Borr, an elderly-looking forgotten child with long limbs, three fingers on each hand, and one staglike horn atop a wide, almost goblinoid skull, smiles widely to see them. "Surfacers! How wonderful to meet you. I am Borr, storykeeper of Neathholm. I have many questions for you, and I'm sure you have just as many for me."
The next couple of hours are spent exchanging questions and tales with the grinning storykeeper, though Aravashnial seems quite interested on the numbers and organization of the tribes, as well as their knowledge of the demons and the state of Mendev and the Worldwound.
Borr, for his part, seems more interested in how Kenabres has evolved since the time of the First Crusade - though he seems to know it has developed considerably, what that actually means is a mystery to him.
"Why, you look fully recovered, Crel. That's wonderful. And to know Seer Opoli was able to help Master Aravashnial makes good hearing." Verene is already involuntarily picking up the verbal habits of her hosts. "Let's talk to Orin first, then."
As they walk, Thamyris hops from her shoulder to circle around Crel, interspersing his excited greetings with thrush-song. He is delighted by Crel's ability to imitate sounds, and demonstrates a variety of calls, along with somewhat incoherent explanations of what they mean.
Thamyris proves a great hit once more with the forgotten children of Neathholm as Crel leads the group to a slightly larger hut that has a large box-shaped room attached to the back. He opens the door, waving them in.
The inside of the hut is lit by a few patches of the glowing fungus from the ceiling, and an androgynous forgotten child with a crustacean claw on one arm and sinuous reddish whiskers emerging from the left side of their face waves them in. Two tusks pull their mouth into a tight, persistent frown, but their voice is friendly as they speak. "Fair morn to you all. You must be the upworlders everyone's talking about. Now, if I should make a guess as to why you've come, you want to purchase some things to prepare for an attack on those dastardly traitors."
They turn on mismatched legs (one digitigrade and one plantigrade) to the small door that leads into the back room. "What is it you would like? If the item will kill some traitors directly, I will even accept a poorer deal..." Opening the door and entering, they continue speaking. "I also have some surface coinage in here somewhere, for when we need to buy things from the city above."
Merixia looks around the shop curiously. "Well, that depends on what you have."
"Good morning and well met Orin. We seek to strengthen our gear and buy some items to help us traverse the tunnels as we pursue these cultists. As my friend so put it, might you be so kind as to enlighten us to what you have that might help us in such ventures?" Thesius inquires with a smile.
However, after about two hours of talking, a female(?) forgotten child approaches her. With three solid black eyes (two on one side of her face, one on the other) and a single long, blackened arm ending in draconic claws, she nods slightly at Elyda. "You seek information about the traitors. I am Meron, and I know more about them than any here. What do you want to know?"
Diplomacy, Gather Information, bonus for saving Crel, Lann, and Dyra: 1d20 + 5 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 5 + 2 = 24
Hours?: 1d4 ⇒ 2
"It is good to meet you, Meron. I am Elyda. I do not seek to cause you unease, yet we have tasked ourselves with removing the threat of the traitors and the cultists they are allied to." The young inquisitor was not disturbed by the appearance of the forgotten child Meron - yet she could not instantly settle on which of her eyes to focus on as she talked.
In a discreet and steady voice, Elyda began to ask her questions, pausing after each to give the woman a chance to respond before asking the next question.
"What are their numbers and who is their leader??"
"Can they be reasoned with or will they simply attack on sight?"
"What kinds of weapons do they use? Are there any ranged fighters among them? If so, how many?"
"Are there spellcasters among them (as in both traitors and cultists), and, if so, how powerful are they?"
"Is there a way through the caverns to reach them so to catch them by surprise? The element of surprise would certainly be a boon to us. Have they posted traps to be wary of - are they mundane or magical or both? And, where are these traps located?"
"Are the traitors under the direct command of the cultists? If so, what have they promised the traitors - power, coin, position?"
"What can unnerve the traitors? Are they afraid of something in particular?"
"You guess correctly, Orin," Verene says with a smile and a respectful nod. "I am Verene, and this is Thesius, and Merixia. To begin with the weapons that might help us in our fight against the fallen ones, I think we had discussed a simple blunt weapon as a backup choice for Merixia, perhaps something like a mace or morningstar. Also, some regular arrows, and a few with cold iron heads if you have them, for Thesius and Anevia, our archers. As far as other gear, I think we are looking for some backpacks, bedrolls, waterskins - half of us, and I include myself in that number, were not at all prepared for this kind of venture, you see. So we were also considering navigational aids, like a compass, if you have one, and perhaps some digging tools? And we would welcome your suggestions for other useful items. Though our actual coin at the moment is sadly limited, Thesius has prepared a list of items we can offer in trade, some of which we hope you may find useful."
Verene makes small talk with Orin as best she can to help smooth the transaction throughout, hoping to trade some of their items (especially weapons and armor) at full value for those on offer here.
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The upper right pitch black eye narrows, falling half shut. "Their leader is a male traitor, an unholy warrior of their false bull god. He and his mate rule their tribe through fear and muscle."
She sighs. "Most of them use clubs for weapons, as do we - there is not much metal in our caverns, so what we have is traded from above. I did steal a crossbow on my way out, however, so it is likely they have been receiving weapons from their foul allies."
"Speaking of whom, I saw a human woman wearing a bull's head around her neck. She had a glaive and was speaking in Hallit with the traitors, so I know not what words were exchanged. I have no doubt they boded ill, however." Meron pauses, considering for a moment. "I believe she may have had a companion, but I cannot remember."
The forgotten child abruptly grabs one of Elyda's shoulders, remembering something suddenly. "But most importantly, they have demons. Not large ones, they stand only about yea high." She releases Elyda and lifts her hand about four feet off the ground "Not impressive individuals, bloated and slow, but they chased me through a small maze for hours. I only ever saw a handful, but they may have more."
They are resistant to non-cold iron weapons, acid, cold, and fire, and immune to fire and poisons. Rather stupid, they aren't fond of physical labor, but they do have the telepathic abilities common to demons, and can summon more of their own... sometimes.
Abruptly, Meron's expression grows cold. "If you intend to reason with them, I will say this - don not. They deserve death for their betrayal, and are ruthless monsters besides."
"As for your other questions - I know not. I did not see any traps, but I was captured and thrown into their demon-infested maze. The traitors spoke only Hallit with the surfacers, so I know not what unholy bargains were made, only that there were some. I saw no spells cast, but the woman may be a priestess - and they seem to be frightened of her. That is how I escaped, you see - imitating her voice in anger. They didn't realize that I was speaking the beneath-tongue until after I fled."
Orin spreads their arms wide. "Ah, I see, I see. Well, our metals are limited to what we can trade from above or below - we have no veins of metals around Neathholm, and we have thus lost much of the art of working metal. We do have a few hefty clubs, however, which I am more than happy to part with freely - it doesn't take much effort to make one, after all." They pull out a heavy-looking white club. "In fact, I insist you take this. I would be honored if you would use it to smash a few traitors for me. They set it on the table before returning to their stockroom.
"Arrows we have a'plenty, as well as a few with cold iron heads - only five of those, however. Seer Opoli's predecessor also enchanted a handful of arrows to strike true and hard, but those are in her hut. As for digging tools, we've a few - old picks taken from foes below, the odd shovel or two... no compasses, I fear." They scratch their chin with their humanoid hand. "But bedrolls and backpacks we have, as well as waterskins..."
They turn their eyes back to the group. "So, what is it you have to trade, then? I'm quite willing to help, but... well, some of those things are necessary to help us, as well."
"Is it good to meet you too, Elder Borr. Thank you for indulging in our curiosity," Elliot responds, inclining his head in show of respect. His immediate question was how all the Forgotten Children could look so differently, and why the animal traits manifested in them the way it did when it was supposedly the result of lingering Abyssal energy on their parents.
But that didn't quite seem like the most polite or non-confrontational issue to start with. Instead, he tried a list of other questions first, ones he'd quickly written down earlier to make sure he wouldn't forget!
-How do the Forgotten Children survive down here? What do they mainly eat? What materials are vital to them, but do they struggle to acquire?
-Do they have contact with other races down here, or other significant factions of power other than the traitor crusaders who were here recently?
-Did anyone else from the surface ever try to contact them? When was the last time someone came here before the traitor crusaders, and when exactly was their presence detected?
-What are the most significant historic events for the Forgotten in their century of existence? Is there anything vital we should know about?
-How should we adress or treat members of other tribes if we encounter them?
-How do the Forgotten feel about the Crusaders at large, or upworlders in general?
-How do they feel about gods other than Iomedae?
-Do they feel they have any lingering loyalty to either, and that they might be inclined to help the conflict on the surface; currently fighting back in the retaking of what is left of Kenabres?
-Are any of the original first Crusaders still alive here somewhere, either in this tribe or a different one?
-(To then move onto his first impulse:) What is their theory on why they all have wildly varying mainly animalistic to slightly demonic body parts? If it was lingering energy from the abyss, why aren't the demonic ones more explicit or dominant?
-How old can a Forgotten get down here? Do they age Slowly? Quickly? Does the 'Abyssal' transformation give them other boons or banes? And has there been some kind of change or trend in this over the last hundred years?
-(He leaves questions about the number of tribes and their numbers to his master, though he is interested in that as well)
"We may be able to afford you some metal weapons. Currently we have two glaives, a pair of spiked gauntlets, a hand crossbow with some bolts, and a masterwork warhammer. Not to mention a rapier which I had forgot about earlier. I don't think any of us chose to use that. We also have a set of leather armor, a masterwork chain shirt, and a light steel shield. In regards to more mundane items, we are also looking to part with this statue which we are unsure about. We would be thankful for to anyone that could enlighten us on it," Thesius says while looks over what each of them carried with them. As he nears the end of what he is saying, he pulls forth the marble statue and holds it out for Orin to see.
With a glance to Verene and Merixia, he inquires, "Did I forget anything?"
"I think that's about it." Merixia takes her pack off, untying the glaives from their makeshift fastenings and leaning them against the wall. She takes Orin's club in return, hefting it and smiling at the weight and balance. "Thank you very much, Orin. I'll be glad to use it on your behalf."
"That seems right," Verene agrees. "Your club seems perfect for the purpose, too. I think we will certainly buy all the cold iron arrows you can spare. Come to think of it..." She pulls the quiver of bolts from her side to show it to Orin. "I have some nineteen cold iron crossbow bolts remaining. If you only have five arrows, do you think you or someone here could take the heads from some of my bolts and attach them to arrow shafts instead?"
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"Hmm... glaives we might be able to train ourselves to use, as well as the hammer. Gauntlets would need to be resized to fit our hands - those of us who have hands that are similar enough to yours, at any rate." Orin examines the weapons carefully as Thesius mentions them. "But they are metal, and we might be able to melt them down into something more useful. Of course, we might not."
"We would need to make new bolts for the crossbow, yes... not terrible, but something to note..." They mutter to themselves before looking up. "Armor... yes, I am certain some of us will be able to make use of them... somehow." Despite their words, there's a hint of doubt in Orin's voice. "Well, if you're willing to part with them, they shall surely be of more use to us than they would be in your packs."
"As for refitting the crossbow bolts... if you are certain, I think we will be able to manage it. Not I," they lift their clawed arm, "but Crel, you could refit them, surely."
"Aye, I could." The forgotten child chirps from behind the group. "For certain." He wriggles his fingers before moving to examine the bolts. "They might fly a trifle odd, but it is naught that a skilled archer couldn't adjust for."
"The statue..." Orin examines it with a frown. "Err... I'm no artisan, I'm afraid, but it might be from one of the other tribes' sculptors. The deep folk of Chasmsong supposedly have a talented sculptor or two." They shrug. "It might be worth a favor from them, so... I suppose we'll treat it as fairly valuable, then."
Borr considers Elliot's questions carefully.
"We mostly survive off of fish and small game - lizards, larger insects, the occasional bat. Sometimes we have a feast when our traders come back with larger amounts of food." The grey-skinned forgotten child scratches his chin.
"There have been some who have snatched our people away in the past - darkened demon worshippers with magic beyond our own. They have not been seen for decades, however, and we may well have lost their attention."
"The surfacers don't know we exist for the most part. Only a few trusted traders know that we exist at all, but none have ever come below."
With regards to their history, he chuckles. "I could speak to you of so many things in our history - the tale of Tulas Bloodeye, who slaughtered on her lonesome the devourer beast. What of Mokk the Bold, who rescued the young of Neathholm from the Jaws of Despair? Or Kalot the Bridge, who formed a network of communication between our tribe and the others? No, I cannot summarize these tales and do them justice. If you should like, we can discuss them more once your other questions are answered."
"Well, if you're headed to the traitors' home, belike you shall not meet any other tribes. They live deeper and to the north and west, by and large. Nevertheless, you must remain courteous, and be aware that most do not trust upworlders - especially of late." He nods significantly - the demon cultists are likely responsible for that.
"Crusaders... we all have our own feelings on our ancestors' successors. By and large we accept they fight for what is right, but that does not make them perfect... not at all." His tone grows dark. "Many of us do not appreciate humans overmuch."
Aravashnial shifts slightly, his face expressionless. "Yet you are willing to aid us?"
"Yes. We are trueborn children of the crusades, and we shall honor our ancestors."
Borr continues. "The other gods may well impact the surface, but our ancestors were, by and large, Iomedaeans. We acknowledge the other gods of good, but our focus is upon the Lady of Valor."
"Our ancestors died of violence most often - living beneath the earth was - and is - hard for full humans - they lack our vision and our resiliency. We've adapted to living here over the generations, but... they could not. Inasmuch as I am aware, there are no survivors who remain."
"We don't know why we manifest so differently from each other and humans - it is my personal belief that the Abyssal taint is so hateful to our bodies that it simply warps us to be whatever would make us suffer the most. Relatedly, our lifespans vary tremendously - another curse of the Abyss, no doubt... but we rarely have the chance to die of old age, unless our lifespan be shorter than a human's."
Aravashnial launches into a discussion of the number of tribes, how they were founded, and how they became separated. Elliot learns that there are about eight or so tribes scattered across the tunnels beneath Kenabres - not counting the traitorous tribes. Most of them have less than forty members - the difficulty in finding food and the hostility of the environment controls the population rather significantly.
Neathholm is the settlement closest to the surface, and has the most contact with Kenabres proper, though even that much isn't exactly a great deal.
"We would much rather trade these things for equipment we can use than have to lug them back to the surface." Normally it's a bad idea to let a merchant know these things, but goodwill from the people of Neathholm is worth a great deal right now.
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The forgotten child abruptly grabs one of Elyda's shoulders, remembering something suddenly. "But most importantly, they have demons. Not large ones, they stand only about yea high." She releases Elyda and lifts her hand about four feet off the ground . "Not impressive individuals, bloated and slow, but they chased me through a small maze for hours. I only ever saw a handful, but they may have more."
It was fortunate that Meron did not grab her shoulder with her draconic claws for they looked sharp. She considered the description of the demons and recognition dawned on her,
"They are dretches, the lowest demons of the Abyss, born of slothful, evil souls, and, summoned, most likely from the demonic army that ruined Kenabres. So your people are aware, the dretch is resistant to non-cold iron weapons, acid, cold, and fire, and are immune to fire and poisons. They are rather stupid and they aren't fond of physical labor, but they do have the telepathic abilities common to demons, and can, sometimes, summon more of their own. I will share this information with my companions, as well."
Abruptly, Meron's expression grows cold. "If you intend to reason with them, I will say this - do not. They deserve death for their betrayal, and are ruthless monsters besides."
"I did not mean to cause you distress. There are some among my companions who prefer reasoning to killing as our first recourse. Not all creatures can be redeemed, however, so I shall pass along your message to my friends. Better to know the enemy we will be facing soon enough."
Looking at Meron, she added quietly, "You are brave. You escaped the enemy with your wits and survived. Together, we shall defeat them, Meron. Thank you for sharing what you know with me and my people. If you require anything, you may come to me. I have no further questions for now. I will speak with my companions once we regather this day. May the Lady's Light shine upon you." Elyda inclined her head in due respect and turned back to find her companions.
When the companions completed their various, individual tasks, and gathered back at the stone hut, Elyda shared with them what she had learned from Meron.
"I did not have much success with the other forgotten children until Meron found me and recollected what she had seen/heard during her imprisonment. Being a prisoner, her knowledge is limited, however, still helpful."
• There are at least 6 traitors who tormented and fed Meron. The forgotten child strongly believes there are more, but not too many more as their lair is not as large as Neathholm.
• The leader of the traitors is a male, unholy warrior of their false god. He and his mate rule the tribe through fear and muscle.
• Most of the traitors use clubs, However, Meron stole a crossbow when she escaped, so she believes the cultists may be sharing their weapons with the traitors.
• There was a surfacer human woman wearing a bull's head around her neck. She spoke in Hallit to the traitors and it appears that is the tongue they communicate in (they only spoke in Hallit, which Meron does not speak/understand). This woman may have a companion.
• They have bloated and small demons in their company (around 4 ft tall). There are 5 of them that Meron saw, however there could be more. Elyda believes they are dretches, the lowest demons of the Abyss, born of slothful, evil souls, and, summoned, usually by dabblers in demonology but most likely from the demonic army that ruined Kenabres. The dretch is resistant to non-cold iron weapons, acid, cold, and fire, and are immune to fire and poisons. They are rather stupid and they aren't fond of physical labor, but they do have the telepathic abilities common to demons, and can, sometimes, summon more of their own.
• Meron said that we should not reason with these ruthless traitors and allies. She says they deserve death for their betrayal.
• Meron did not see any traps in the area where they have made their camp, but she was waylaid and thrown into a pit.
• Meron saw no spells cast, but believes the woman with the bull's head neck necklace may be a priestess and the traitors were duly afraid of her.
Thesius stands back while Verene negotiates. He has already received plenty and has found himself more on the front line than at range recently, so he wishes to see his companions better geared and he is not sure what they made need beyond what they have brought up already. Silently he contemplates on whether there is anything they are forgetting.
Elliot listens to Bokk's answers to his equally extensive questions with great intent. "Fascinating! These stories about your heroes sound grand, and I'd like to know more about them, yes. And this Kalot managed to build communications between the tribes? What does that mean? Do you have some other way of reaching far outlying tribes than messengers...?"
"If they do, maybe we could use that to get a message to the surface? ...If they're still alive, that is... can anything up there really stand up to Kharroumzadeh after he killed Terendelev THAT easily...?" He privately wonders, trying to suppress the worry to his family.
When the discussion shifts towards help for the surface, he leans forward intently, on the edge of his seat. "Really!? You'd help us despite your low numbers, and without compensation...? Do you think the other tribes would also answer such a call?"
After Elliot hitches a ride with one of the fishers and manages to catch a few small ones on the Forgotten Fisherman's instructions, he walks back over to the group after they finish gutting and salting the prey. Fortunately, he had just the spell to get rid of the smell and blood, which masked how inefficient he'd definitely been. "Hey everyone, how's the shopping going? Anything useful we traded for? Or do you need a critical eye? My mom is a pretty fierce trader above ground!"
"Thank you, Crel." Verene smiles at him, then does some quick and purely mental arithmetic. Three bedrolls, two backpacks, three waterskins, a club, five cold iron arrows, one shovel, one pickaxe, refitting about a dozen arrowheads... All together, to purchase from a regular merchant, it would be about the same price as just the two glaives and gauntlets Merixia had found. "The glaives are certainly yours, then. And the gauntlets could be melted down with no real loss, but to do so to the chain shirt would be a sad waste, for as you can see, the craftsmanship is very fine and light for the amount of protection it offers. The leather armor, now, could more easily be taken apart and reshaped to conform to a different body type, and of course almost anyone who can hold a weapon can learn to use a shield..."
Verene gets down to the business of haggling.
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Borr shrugs slightly. "Compensation? What would you give us? We will fight the demons, but if you have anything more to offer, we would of course take it." He grins - his mouth disconcertingly wide. "The other tribes might. They might not. We do not like you upworlders overmuch. Chief Sull would know more than I in this."
Aravashnial gently taps his apprentice's shoulder with his staff, a signal to allow him to speak. "We cannot speak for the rest of the Crusaders, nor even the rest of Kenabres, but I suspect that Queen Galfrey, at the least would happily welcome you all with open arms."
"But would her subjects?"
To that, all Aravashnial can do is sigh and shrug.
Orin nods with what is probably intended to be a smile - their tusks make it harder to tell. "Very good. Crel, could I trouble you to get to work on the bolts and arrows?"
"Yes, in just a moment. You all seemed to want to go visit the Seer, no? Shall I take you there?" He inquires.
With their affirmation, the young man leads them through the fungus-lit streets of Neathholm, where they meet up with Elyda. Elyda explains what she's learned on the way to a small hut covered in fetishes and odd symbols - including one instance of the signature bleeding-eye-radiant-sword combination that the forgotten children have embraced.
Just as the group arrives there, Elliot approaches as well - ready to help as much as he can.
"Seer Opoli? The upworlders wish to speak to you about some of the items you may be able to exchange with them. They've already -"
"Yes, yes, I heard you the first time." A woman of indeterminate age emerges from the hut, a beetle the size of an adult's hand on her shoulder. She seems almost normal compared to some of her kindred. Her sole mutations are a grayish fur coat that haphazardly covers her back, upper arms, and splotches across the rest of her body, as well as golden-brown eyes with vertically slitted pupils, and seven long, slender fingers on her left hand.
Behind her, Anevia emerges and waves at the group somewhat cheerily. "Oh, hey! Thanks for dropping by. I almost thought you'd all forgotten me." She winks to take any accusation out of her words.
"You have been a most pleasant guest, Anevia Tirablade, but I would not want to keep you here for another day." The other woman says. "Crel... go do whatever it was you were going to do before you took the excuse of guiding them here to get out of it."
He opens his mouth, looking wounded, before shutting it and bowing his head politely at the heroes. "I'll catch up with you all later."
"So, what can I offer you all? I imagine you want some number of healing potions, but is there aught else?"
Merixia follows Crel to the seer's hut, looking around with evident interest. "Hello, Seer Opoli. Thank you for treating Anevia and Aravashnial, it's most appreciated. As for magic items... I think potions are probably our highest priority right now." She gives the rest of the group an inquiring look.
Thesius listens intently to Elyda's recounting of what she has found. "It would seem what cold iron we have come across has been a fortuitous find then and that as we feared, we are outnumbered. I wonder if there might be a way for us to catch them in smaller groups. I would hate to face them in those numbers, especially with a priestess to back them up."
After arriving at Soul Opoli's, Thesius agrees with Merixia and asks for leniency for Crel. "Please forgive Crel his meanderings, we distracted him in our pursuits to prepare ourselves for the journey ahead. I agree with my friend that potions of healing would be beneficial to our cause."
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When the bargaining reaches its conclusion, Verene is well pleased and thanks Orin effusively for the time. All told, the group is able to trade the warhammer, rapier, hand crossbow, hand crossbow bolts, steel shield, leather armor, marble statue, chain shirt, glaives, and spiked gauntlets, for the three bedrolls, two backpacks, three waterskins, a club, five cold iron arrows, one shovel, one miner's pick, the refit of thirteen arrowheads, and an understanding with the settlement totaling 482 gold and seven silver pieces, to take with them to Seer Opoli. "I hope these items may help the people of Neathholm, as you have helped us, and that we may trade many times more in the future, Orin," she says with a bow before Crel leads them away.
On the way, when they meet up with Elyda, Verene listens in silence to what she was able to learn from Meron. The small line between her brows deepens over the course of the explanation, especially at learning the sheer number of their foes and that one of them may even be a true priestess of Baphomet, with spells granted to use in his service. "At least seven humanoids and five demons, even lesser demons like dretches, seems a very steep hill to climb," she remarks finally, agreeing with Thesius.
As the hut covered in fetishes and strange symbols comes into view, Verene raises an eyebrow. "These sigils and talismans represent a kind of arcane magic I have little experience with, not that of a divinity, despite the presence of the same holy symbol we have seen elsewhere. Chief Sull told us, I believe, that Seer Opoli is no servant of any deity, though she communes with the spirits. But I would rather have a hedge-witch with healing in my village, than the most devout priest with none."
Though her tone and expression are of mild academic interest, the way her calm glance turns momentarily to Elyda, then away, is easy enough to interpret: many of Iomedae's servants in the Inquisition incorrectly conflate witchcraft itself with demon-worship or malevolence, and if the possibility for any such misunderstanding exists here, she would like to head it off at the pass with a simple and matter-of-fact treatment of the seer's brand of magic.
When Seer Opoli comes out of the hut and dismisses Crel, Verene quickly corroborates Thesius's words. She waves back at Anevia, saying hastily, "Truly, Crel has been an immense help to us. Though I'm sure he has more interesting things to do, he has not only guided us around, but agreed to refit some cold iron arrowheads for us, so that we will be better prepared for the coming confrontations. Thank you very much, Crel, and we'll see you again soon."
Thamyris, who quailed somewhat at Seer Opoli's gruff words, pipes up to add, "See soon! Friend-Crel!"
Verene then turns her attention fully to the Seer. "It is an honor to meet you, Seer Opoli. I am Verene, and this is my familiar and friend Thamyris. No doubt you have many demands on your time, so I will get to the point: in addition to a few healing potions, as discussed, I would be interested in the inks and reagents suitable for writing spells into a wizard's spellbook, and I believe Elliot here was hoping you might have some alchemist's fire available."
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"Worry not about Crel." Opoli waves away the requests with her seven-fingered hand, her lips curving in a somewhat mischievous smile. "Crel knows that I simply jest with him - he used to be a layabout when he was in his youth. Fortunately, he has grown out of it since."
As the heroes explain their requests, she considers. "I have five potions with which I am willing to part - we won't need them as much if we are not venturing out ourselves. We do have some components with which you may write spells into your spellbook - some of my predecessors discovered them, and we have since been collecting them infrequently." Opoli beckons the heroes into her hut, which is covered in more magical fetishes and totems. She begins pulling out the equipment they've requested, placing them on the table.
"As for alchemist's fire... we have some, but it is rather old. Be careful with it - it may be unstable. We have not had a true alchemist among us for some time. I do have acid, which is considerably more stable and therefore, however."
Elliot notes the apparent ease at which Anevia now walks and nods appreciatively to Opoli. "Oh, thanks for your concern, Madam. I'll be sure to handle them carefully. I've studied magic able to use them as reagents, and should be able to make good use of them."
"Of course, healing potions and the like would have priority, I agree. I'd prefer all of us to live first and foremost!" he adds to Merixia. "And as far as I'm concerned, Verene is correct on Crel as well. He was a great guide, along with Lann and the others. I was expecting some of them to show us the way to the traitors, actually? I really wouldn't want to get lost down here while the city needs us above..."
Thesius gives a smile at Seer Opoli's explanation, glad to hear there were no true ill feelings against Crel. The forgotten children had been quite gracious since their first encounter and he would hate to cause grief on their part.
Upon hearing Elliot's words, a thought comes to Thesius. "That raises a good point. A guide would be beneficial. A map as well." Putting a finger to his chin in a sign of thought, he adds, "It may also be worth talking to the rest of our group about whether they wish to journey forward with us now or if we should come back for them. While I do not wish to delay our journey, we have at least one who is not combat trained as far as I can tell."
Looking from Elliot to Thesius, Elyda steadily added, "Chief Sull told us there were several ways to return to the surface and that the traitors had taken up residence in the closest one. If we could be shown toward the closest way out, then it will not interfere with us getting to the city soon after we take care of the traitors and their dark allies."
"If there are still as many of them as Meron observed, we may well have to use strike-and-run tactics to pick them off, and could have to return to the safety of Neathholm at least once before being able to push through to the surface. So leaving Lord Horgus and perhaps Master Aravashnial behind at first could make sense. On the other hand, I worry about any of the other three becoming separated from us, for different reasons," Verene says to her companions.
"Seer Opoli, the acid is a good suggestion. So, perhaps three of the five healing potions, two flasks of alchemist's fire, one flask of acid, and as much of the arcane inks and reagents as you have, up to a value of... say, 250 gold pieces? That will all together be a little less than the value of the goods we traded to Orin. Can anyone think of anything else we can afford?"
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Opoli purses her lips. "Well, if you would rather have the fire, that is your prerogative. Just avoid being struck - even though these vials are as strong as the sort you would find on the surface, a sharp impact might disrupt the stability and cause the alchemist's fire to erupt... whilst it remains on your body."
"Yes, a guide might help you." Opoli muses aloud. "I am not the one to speak to on that matter, however - you should speak with Sull. He knows more about that particular direction than I. I am sure that he or one of the scouts could draw you up a map, however."
Anevia speaks up. "While I don't know about Aravashnial or Horgus, I, for one, want to help you take care of these traitors and the cultists." She taps her splinted leg. "Assuming you're willing to let me slow you up."
The Seer narrows her catlike eyes at Verene before nodding. "Very well. Your bargain is fair, especially as you will be taking the fight to the traitors. Let me fetch what it is you need."
With that, she turns and swiftly sorts through the seemingly chaotic mess with a baffling ease, pulling out potions, alchemist's fire, and acid, before picking up a few dozen oddments and inks. "These are not the sort you will be used to, but they are equally effective, or so I am given to understand." As far as Elliot and Verene can tell, she's completely correct in that assessment.