With the goo impeding the monster’s attacks, Hawk could try to impede it a bit more or try to finish the fight by piling on damage. It was a flip of a coin as to which would help best. He hopes that extra damage will bring the matter to a close before the drake can strike again.
"Just die already." He mutters.
2nd Spells (4): x
1st Spells (7): xxxx
Dancing Lights (3):
Effects:
Mage Armor = +4 AC/FF for 4 hrs
Perhaps the gods heard Hawk's hushed words, or perhaps it was simply the attrition and the numerous blows the battered beast had taken, but his spell is enough to finish off the fire drake. Blood dripping from half a dozen different wounds, red liquid on red scales, the force missiles find their target and the dragon's eyes close for the last time. Its reptilian body slumps to the floor beside that of its companion.
This time when the post-battle hush falls, it remains. No third drake makes an appearance and with heavy sighs of relief, you have pause to stop and nurse your wounds. In the stillness of the giant cave, at least for the moment, you are its masters.
In the sudden silence, the sorcerer glances at his comrades. Some are hurt but no one is dead or even face down. That was as good an outcome as could be hoped. Lucky. ”I think we won,” he offers speculatively.
2nd Spells (4): x
1st Spells (7): xxxx
Dancing Lights (3):
Effects:
Mage Armor = +4 AC/FF for 4 hrs
Majara picks her way closer, warily. "That.... was momentarily not looking good. Two drakes. A bit of a surprise," she says with dry understatement.
"Right, who's hurt badly? We should attend to that before we try and check the rest of the area out and make sure it's clear for Nappin's return. Gods willing there isn't a THIRD somewhere."
Nerissia relaxes after the second drake drops (only slightly, though), moving to check on Alocer as the rest of the group pulls themselves together. Seeing him slightly burned, she frowns.
”Well that was disappointingly easy.” She says with a huff, a bit frustrated. ”Alocer is a bit singed, but I honestly expected more of a fight from my first dragon kill. Though, I suppose they weren’t true dragons, were they? Do you think they count, should I count them?” she rattles off, thinking out loud more than anything.
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"Right, who's hurt badly?"
”Badly? I wouldn’t say badly…”
Hawk looks across the battlefield punctuated by the two very large bodies. ”We need an artist to immortalize this moment.” He chuckles, ”I forgot… that’s me.” He pulls out his sketchbook and charcoal then begins sketching the fallen monsters. He also sketches the team… whether they stand still for it or not.
2nd Spells (4): x
1st Spells (7): xxxx
Dancing Lights (3):
Effects:
Mage Armor = +4 AC/FF for 4 hrs
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"Well, I've been better, but I've been worse- Wouldn't mind a tap or two." Roger is currently picking bits of teeth out of himself, though he's standing close enough to the drake that if Hawkren takes a few liberties with the pose it could look heroic enough.
"An', don't look a gift dragon in the mouth, Nerissia. That's where the fire and the teeth are."
"Tch, alright, let's see..."
The wand is getting a workout. Majara glances around to see if anyone else needs a touch-up, then holsters it again. "...we should probably drag the carcasses out, after we search. They're going to be rather large and unwieldy for my size of people-- several of you are big and strong, at least."
Once you are sufficiently healed, you begin to deal with the bodies, heaving them over towards the entrance and cutting them up to ease the process as necessary.
Job done, you commence your exploration of the lair - just to ensure that there were only the two fire drakes occupying it. The air by the entrance to the main cavern feels warmer, and not just from the lingering heat of the dragon’s fiery breath. It’s a drop down, and from the smooth-looking stone floor the ceiling looms fully 50 feet overhead. Rather than clambering down, you opt for the circuitous route and head up the narrow passageway where the goblin dogs had come from. Emma looks relieved at this, a bad memory of a not-so-dignified climb from the Mermaid’s Klivanion floating into her mind.
The most notable thing about the cave you come out into is either the smell of the mess, quickly followed by the other. Gnawed bones, rotting meat, and filthy beds make it clear that the goblin dogs had been living here and largely left to their own devices. A smashed barrier at the neck of the long passage must have prevented them leaving the area. Three sloping passages at the other end lead down to a natural balcony wrapping around the main cavern. The 20-foot drop to the floor, coupled with the dogs’ craven nature in the face of the considerably larger and more powerful predators likely prevented them trying to escape this way.
Following the balcony round leads to a large, domed alcove with a 40-foot-high apex. A large nest of dried grasses, leaves, and boughs covers the ground in what is clearly the dragons’ roost. There is a faint odour of smoke here, though no obvious sign of fire damage. Likely this is from the beasts themselves as the nest looks like it would go up in flames all too easily.
Continuing past the dragons’ bed, you pass above the pond. Steam gently rises from it, presumably the product of some kind of natural heating and a likely explanation for the warmth of the cave. Somewhere overhead there must be a vent in the ceiling as the steam disappears from view.
Finally, after following another narrow passage, you come into another sizeable chamber and you're greeted with a sight to make a pirate’s heart sing. Two hefty-looking chests are pushed to one side and a third one has been smashed open, revealing a small fortune. Coins of all varieties, gems and semi-precious stones, decorative items and jewellery spill out from the wreckage. It’s not a large enough quantity to go swimming in but there looks to be sufficient that you could at least hide a body within. If the other two chests contain similar amounts of treasure it is fair to say that Nappin must be very wealthy indeed. With no sign of any other creatures within - and it’s a brave or foolhardy sort that would consider sharing a home with a pair of fire drakes - this concludes your tour of the caves.
"Well," Hawk says, wiping his hands on his pants for no obvious reason, "I'll go fetch Nappin so we can collect our reward. I suppose we'll all have to practice fending off Pava on the way back to Saringallow. She strikes me as the sort to get all weepy and handsy with gratitude... typical Golden Erinyes behaviour."
Reaching Roger's side, Emma is grateful that she manages to draw the drake's attention to try and attack her. The attack goes wide and she readies her sword--
Unnecessarily, as it turns out. Hawkren, from behind, manages to slay the beast with his magic, causing the beast to slump down against it's fallen companion.
A silence fills the area, and Emma glances to the mouth of the cave, as though daring the universe to try and throw yet a third drake at them. When no such beast appears for the moment, she lets out a sigh of relief, though a small part of her is a little disappointed that she never got to get a hit in on the second one.
She walks up to it and sticks it with her sword. Not quite the same, but it was the principle of the thing, right? It made her feel better, at any rate. Deed done, she wiped the blade off against it's scaly hide.
She happens to glance over at the nearby Roger and gives a shrug. "Just...making sure," she mutters.
Still, her disappointment is short-lived, because as a whole, their group managed to not only take out one of the beasts, but two. An impressive feat, not least of all because none of them had known there would be a second one.
"Never hurts to be sure," Majara says of Emma's insurance-stab. Brushing her hands off, the gnome nods brusquely to Hawkren.
"All in all, that could have gone much worse," she says, rather satisfied over the whole affair. "Let's see what Nappin has to say for our work. Perhaps there will be a two-drake bonus."
She casts a slightly regretful look at the piles of treasure, but... no. Not that she's never ever ever been above theft as a concept but-- not from a fellow gnome, anyway.
"Thanks Majara. Potion came in quite handy!" Roger is appreciative of the healing, and puts his freshly healed body to work assisting with the grim work of hauling the drakes and exploring the rest of the place.
Of course, at the sight of such a proper haul of treasure is enough to bring tears to the eyes of any true Pirate, and he can't help but take his hat in his hand and stand in awe of it for a minute. "It's right beautiful it is."
Satisfied that your work is done, you make your way back from the depths of the treasure chamber and out of the cave. Once out, you climb back up to the surface level and hail the gnomish pair.
”Oho! The adventurers return!” Nappin calls, his eyes scanning you carefully, perhaps to check for wounds or even that you all made it back alive.
”All fine up here,” Bearjaw says with a smile. ”Thought something was keeping an eye on us and wondering what was going on but we had a quick patrol and nothing showed its face. Would assume goblins,” he says, defaulting to the most likely - and by far the most populous - source of sneaking and snooping in the Chitterwood.
”Probably,” the other gnome rumbles in agreement. ”Probably thought better of it. Anyway, enough about our ‘heroics’, how did you fare below?”
”Matters went well and we solved a mystery. Goblin-dogs were the guards… and the reason you never got in here without facing a drake is because there were two of them. Alas, no longer. We also found three chests of treasure – two of them unopened. If that is the sum of your personal wealth, it’s intact and waiting for you.”
He smiles, ”I’d credit the intrepidity and strong weapons of my allies for the victory… but I believe my new hat provided the extra amount of luck needed to win the day. Sunarinda is a millinery wizard.”
”Well, that explains a lot,” Bearjaw says, looking at his companion. ”That sounds like a very good result and a very impressive piece of work to take out two drakes,” he adds, genuinely impressed. ”I’m very pleased to see you and your hat back in one piece, Hawkren Hargraves.”
With a cry of joy, any affectation of indifference vanishes and Nappin begins dancing about. He bounces around you in a wide circle, springing surprisingly high, and somewhere in this celebration the gnomish body disappears too. It takes you a second to realise the change happening before your eyes but where Nappin had been, the unmistakable form of another dragon is now in his place.
This one, you are certain, is a true dragon. Smaller and slighter than the fire drakes it may be but there is unquestionably something different here. The drakes were fearsome predators, but this doesn’t just look like a dragon, it feels like one too. From its size it is clearly not particularly old, at least as dragons reckon these things, but there is an ageless presence about it that makes it easy to imagine the creature still here centuries hence when you are all long underground and, if you’re lucky, a half-forgotten memory of some valiant tales.
Somewhere in the dragon’s triumph you realise it is no longer jumping but has taken flight and is circling around the clearing. Its wings ripple with movement and run nearly the whole way down its body, almost to the tip of its tail, giving it a distinctive profile. Its copper scales catch the sunlight that beats down through the tree cover, causing the dragon more to glow rather than reflect the light outwardly in a radiant fashion. After a few laps above your heads it arcs its neck towards the sky and releases a roar. There is a bustle of activity in response as birds take to the wing and unseen creatures scatter, before a hush and then a bump as the dragon lands a short distance away.
As it pads over you are able to fully take in the dragon’s full appearance. The larger scales of its body have a touch of dullness to them around the edges, a ruddy brown that is then burnished into a metallic coppery sheen in the middle. The smaller scales, those along the neck and tail and on its head have a softer, warm gloss to them, somehow unflashy and comfortable. A short face with no beak is framed by frills on its lower jaws and a small layer of triangular blades pointing down from its chin. Twinkling turquoise eyes meet your own as the dragon allows you to get a good look and bask in its majesty.
”Being as I have you down as intelligent folk, I trust you’ve worked out what’s happening here?” it asks drily. The voice is surprisingly feminine and you realise - whether you are an expert in identifying dragons by gender or have never thought about the question before this moment - that unlike its gnome guise, this is definitely a female dragon. Something in the eyes, maybe, or perhaps it's the way she holds herself, but whatever it is, you instinctively know it to be true.
”My name is Ladunappindon,” she says, almost as if she is reading your thoughts. ”Most of Umok knows me as Duna. It’s a pleasure to spend time amongst the gnomes. They’re a good audience and a lot of fun - someone always has a new joke or a riddle, a story or an idea. But with the utmost respect to your kin,” she looks at Majara as she says this, ”occasionally it does get a little exhausting. Hence Nappin. Only a few trusted friends are aware of this guise.” She stretches her sinuous neck to gesture with her head at Bearjaw. The gnome tips his hat in response. Ladunappindon flexes one of her wings, carefully rotating it at the shoulder joint. The movement doesn’t look entirely smooth, suggesting that Nappin’s sling was not merely for effect. ”And thank you,” she says, with genuine feeling, ”I am most appreciative of your efforts.”
Hawk watches the gnome-turned-dragon-turned-aerialist cavort with a sigh that falls somewhere in the thorny ground betwixt appreciation and envy.
”Being as I have you down as intelligent folk, I trust you’ve worked out what’s happening here?” it asks drily.
Having practiced his hat-doffing in town, Hawk does a smooth swoop with his feathered titfer and offers the lady-dragon a half-bow. ”Why, yes! My hat is even more magical, having transformed you into a dragon.” He offers, with a wink.
He continues, a large measure less confidently, in a different tongue. ”मुझे आपकी मदद करके बहुत खुशी हुई, मेरी महिला। एक हार्ग्रेव के रूप में, हम अपने परिवार की वंशावली में कम से कम एक ड्रैगन को गिनते हैं... और वह भी इस संबंध में बहुत गर्व की भावना के साथ। इसलिए... अगर कोई और सेवा मैं कर सकता हूँ - अभी या भविष्य में - तो मुझे सम्मानित महसूस होगा।”
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Majara blinks, having truly not expected the transformation, though she then smacks her thigh with her hand.
"THAT'S WHY THE ACID AND ORBIES!" she exclaims, then shakes her head in something like appreciation or 'I shoulda known' or both.
"And I was right to think the treasure was practically a hoard. Well! A fine game you played us, Ladunappindon, but it was a worthy one. A pleasure to meet you properly, as it were."
Majara chuckles, giving another headshake. "Too bad Miss Venator missed this one-- that'd be a story for her little books, eh? Though I suppose you don't want that particular story getting out... would rather ruin the Nappin-sona."
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"Well, we were joking about there being a third dragon."
”An excellent trick, Mister Hargraves - I shall consider adding something similar to repertoire. Might be a bit much for some of the gnome children though,” the dragon muses, starting to go off on a tangent, before bringing it back. As Hawk switches language, Ladunappindon lowers her head and holds it closer to the tattoo artist, locking eyes with him and viewing him in a new light as a result of his words.
”अच्छा ऐसा है। अरे हाँ, मैं सचमुच देख सकता हूँ। अभी तो कुछ भी नहीं - तुम पहले ही मेरे लिए बहुत कुछ कर चुके हो। बस इस बात से अवगत रहें कि यह एक साहसिक प्रस्ताव है - ड्रेगन की यादें लंबी होती हैं और हो सकता है कि मैं आपको इससे जोड़े रखूं। यह थोड़ा गंभीर था, है ना?“ she adds as an afterthought, mostly to herself.
”Just not necessarily this one?” Ladunappindon grins at Roger’s comment. ”And the pleasure is mine, Ms Pricknettle. I hope you understand the need for caution - and don’t begrudge me a little fun. As you say, there were clues if you knew where to look.” At the mention of storytelling, the dragon says, ”If you want to sing of my majesty then you’re welcome to, though please mind to keep certain details secret or use a bit of, hmm, bardic licence. Reputation hopefully prevents some threats by making would-be attackers think better of it, though it does have an unfortunate side effect of bringing treasure hunters and self-styled dragon slayers. On which note, I believe I owe you a reward. If you’ll excuse me.”
With that the dragon hops down to the cave entrance and disappears into her lair, returning a short while later. ”A full accounting will have to wait but it doesn’t look like the interlopers have squandered too many of my possessions on ill-considered schemes. The brutes probably lacked the intelligence to make good use of it,” she mutters. In one of her front claws she grasps a mace and on her outside talon a ring just barely fits over the tip. It looks tiny in comparison to the dragon and she removes it delicately, laying both ring and weapon on the ground in front of her. ”These are the items you seek,” she says. ”A fair reward for services rendered and, perhaps, future friendship.”
"Indeed, not the way we were expecting the wind to blow."
Hawk doesn’t quail under the dragon’s gaze.
His smile is genuine. ”शायद, थोड़ा गंभीर, मेरी महिला।” He takes on a more earnest tone. ”मैं चेतावनी की सराहना करता हूँ... लेकिन मैं अपने प्रस्ताव पर कायम हूँ। यह मेरी ओर से साहस से ज़्यादा पारिवारिक परंपरा है। इस्गर में 'हार्ग्रेव्स' का कोई मतलब नहीं है लेकिन वारिसिया में कुछ लोग हमें जानते हैं। हम एक रहस्यमय परिवार हैं, एक अटूट वंश, जिसका इतिहास अलौकिक दोस्ती का है। हमारी निष्ठाएँ मानव जाति या एकल जीवनकाल से कहीं आगे तक फैली हुई हैं। मेरी हिम्मत या अभिमान, शायद, यहाँ एक रिश्ते का बीज बोने की कोशिश में है। चुनाव पूरी तरह से आपका है।”
Ladunappindon sniffs in agreement, a puff of air lightly warming Hawk's face. "आप सुंदर ढंग से अपना सम्मान व्यक्त करें। योग्य मित्र एक अनमोल वस्तु हैं। यह किया गया है, और अच्छा किया गया है।"
Hawk offers the dragon another half-bow, minus the flourish of his hat. ”As I’ll be visiting my parents shortly, I’ll deliver that compliment to them in person. Credit goes to their tutelage, not any gift I might have for words.”
He fluidly shifts into the other language briefly, ”मैं घर आने पर हमारी चर्चा को पारिवारिक पुस्तक में शामिल करूँगा। इस तरह, अगर मैं मर जाऊँ, तो अन्य हरग्रेव्स मेरी प्रतिज्ञा को पूरा करने के लिए बाध्य होंगे। यदि आप कभी यात्रा करने के मूड में हों या आपको यात्रा करने की आवश्यकता हो, तो मार्खम एबे नामक एक गाँव है जहाँ सोनोस फ़ॉरेस्ट मालगोरियन पर्वत से मिलने के लिए ऊपर उठता है। गाँव से थोड़ी दूरी पर एक गोलाकार मीनार है। अपनी गहरी इंद्रियों के साथ, आप इसे मिस नहीं करेंगे। वह मेरा पारिवारिक घर है। आप एक स्वागत योग्य आगंतुक और सम्मानित अतिथि होंगे।”
The sorcerer switches back to the common tongue, hand ready to pull his backpack down ”My lady, would you mind if I sketched you? There will be nothing to identify you or where we stand. After the battle with the drakes, I’m sketching everyone with a mind to trying my hand at painting.”
”अगली बार जब मुझे कुछ समय की आवश्यकता होगी तो मैं इसे ध्यान में रखूंगा। वैसे भी, अपने ही घर से निर्वासित होने के बाद मैं कुछ समय के लिए कुछ घरेलू सुखों का आनंद लूंगा। मुझे यह स्वीकार करना होगा कि कुछ गंदगी साफ करने के बाद मैं भीगने का इंतजार कर रहा हूं“ Ladunappindon stretches her wings out, a not dissimilar motion to a human flexing their shoulders or stretching out their arms to relieve tension. ”और शायद, चूँकि आपने खुद को सक्षम साबित कर दिया है, मैं एहसान का बदला चुका सकता हूँ और उसी समय आपको यहाँ जगह दे सकता हूँ - मेरी अनुपस्थिति में थोड़ी अतिरिक्त सुरक्षा ख़राब नहीं होगी।“
”Whether it’s due to good breeding or you being naturally silver-tongued, you do know how to make a dragon feel special,” she rumbles, with a distinct undertone of “As things should be.” ”You may.” Ladunappindon preens, twisting her neck one way and then the other. ”I’ve always felt this was my best side but you’re the artist.”
Hawk’s reply is succinct and applicable to both the Common and Draconic conversations, ”I’m gratified, my lady.” He pulls out his pad and begins sketching the dragon from her preferred angles and a few poses.
Looking at your recovered treasures, the mace is a solid piece of equipment, primed for cracking skulls. Forged of cold iron, the head bears the pentacle of Asmodeus and sits atop a black haft wrapped tightly in thick silver wire to form the grip. A short word is engraved in the Infernal language on the end of the handle.
The ring is a bit dirty but clearly a valuable item. Made of gold it has a ruby mounted on it and the Irrica house crest etched on the inside of the band, as well as a short word in Infernal opposite the coat of arms. Between these two points on either side is a dense mass of minute script in intricate calligraphy. As you stare at it, the words seem to twist and move around each other.
”The writing appears to have been done by the same hand. Aside from that, I can’t make heads or tails of this infernal language!” He grins at his unintentional pun.
"Let's take a look," Majara says, not deigning to honor Hawk's pun with a response, mostly because she's grumpy he beat her to it.
Majara frowns, turning it this way and that, and finally hands it off to Nerissia. "You speak the tongue of Hell, don't you? Anything you can make of it?"
Nerissia is able to translate the script, which provides some additional insight to the three who are putting their heads together over the rod.
"Hmm."
Majara pulls out her formula book and tears the last page free of the volume in order to write the three phonemes down: AVO - FEX - TI.
"I'd advise saying these aloud until we're sure we know what the outcome is-- don't want to be summoning a fiend," she says matter-of-factly, before tearing each piece off and rearranging them a few times.
Avotifex. Avofexti...
"There are four items-- if the pattern continues, then the last one, Althea's missing locket, should have the fourth phoneme to name this creature, bound devil or whatever it is," the gnome pronounces. "So three down, one to go, eh?"
Nerissia watches Majara write the letters down, following her train of thought. "That could work," she agrees. "And wise decision not to speak it aloud. Do you have any leads on where this locket might be?" she asks.
Hawk finishes his sketches and puts his pad away. "I was very hot at the time because the librarian didn't appreciate me fanning myself... but if I recollect matters rightly, there is a distant heir in Valten - Delara Adnen - who might have inherited the locket along with some odd bits."
He weighs whether they should head back to Saringallow or continue on. "If we head to Valten, it will give me a few more chances to decipher the mystery of that stick." He glares at Hellfire Rod as if it were a schoolboy nemesis.
With three of the four Irrica family treasures now recovered, you head off on the trail of the final one, listed in Rutillo Irrica’s will as a locket belonging to his daughter Althea. Following a lead from your archival research you make the journey north across Isger towards Valten, a small town on the Druman border. Your target is one Delara Adnen, apparently a distant cousin of the Irricas and the relatively recent beneficiary of a few belongings. Exactly what these may be was not detailed but you hope that Desna is smiling upon you and that the locket is amongst what was described as ‘minor possessions and trinkets’.
It’s a fair journey to Valten: after bidding Ladunappindon farewell, you accompany Bearjaw back to Umok before the trek north to Wolfpoint. From there you pick up a river barge, heading first through Saringallow, then forking off to Elidir and continuing north past the capital towards the source of this branch of the Conerica in the Menador Mountains.
You depart the boat at a trail heading due east towards Valten and the Druman border. Away from the river that is the main trade route through Isger and the country’s lifeblood, this is much more of a wilderness and feels a whole lot less civilised. Hills roll and rise on both sides but the road, such as it is, runs through open countryside between them. Although it lacks the densely packed trees and constant chatter of the Chitterwood, it is wise to remain vigilant. At times you feel like you are being observed but there’s nothing to see and no obvious hiding places in the open land. No goblin raiders or bandit gangs show themselves - or indeed anything worse - and nothing comes from it except a vague sense of unease for a while.
Valten itself is a bit of a surprise. It may be small but for a remote countryside town it seems to be bustling and a busier trade hub than you may have anticipated. Nestled next to a lake, a hill gently rises above the community. Asking around, you are able to locate Delara Adnen’s estate without issue - it sits alongside three others on the hill overlooking town. From what you can gather, Delara was a Blackjacket, one of Druma’s Mercenary League who played an important part in quelling the goblinoid threat during the Goblinblood Wars. Now retired, she has settled in Valten and built a lavish estate funded by her ownership of several trading caravans. Known as an astute businesswoman, she is well-regarded by the locals as somebody who has invested her fortune in the town and carries a fair amount of influence as a result.
Past the houses and shops clustered at the town’s centre, you make your way a short distance up the hill to a large mansion overlooking the lake. A wrought-iron fence encircles the beautifully maintained grounds of the estate, its gate standing open and adorned by a family crest.
Filled with optimism at his chances of success now that they have three related items, the sorcerer dives into his analysis of the Hellfire Rod. After an hour of ‘fiddling with it’, he feels he is closer to understanding it than ever before… but still, how to control it eludes him. I’d be better off using it for a ‘bonk stick’ than a magical tool!
##############
Certain today will be the day… Hawk experiments with all three items. He believes the conjunction of the items will finally reveal the Rod’s secrets. There is a bright moment of revelation… then it slips away.
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Hawk stares at the ‘Bonk Stick’ morosely while going through a recently purchased bottle of wine. Periodically, he mutters at it. Majara has some concerns for the sorcerer’s sanity. At the end of the day, he announces this was a ‘strategic reset’ and he wasn’t ‘brooding’.
##############
Possibly calling yesterday a ‘reset’ wasn’t entirely a rationalization or at least it wasn’t entirely wrong… because Hawk finally gets the better of the Rod after, only, seven tries. He finishes off the dregs of the yesterday’s bottle of wine in celebration (and relief).
On the first day on the road back out of Umok, Hawk has a minor breakthrough during his study of the Hellfire Rod. He is able to cause a small flame to appear, like a struck match, out from the end. However, the fire disappears as quickly as it comes. He's close to working it out though and a couple of days later the sorcerer finally unravels its mystery and understands how to cause it to belch forth an arrow of flame. It's not as immediately devastating as some fire magics, but it is annoyingly persistent - as Roger can testify - clinging to its victim and continuing to burn, making it a potent weapon.
Majara is perhaps fractionally grumpy over the fact that they're hitting the trail once more, and for a longer trek. Gellion had better not be burning down her shop, and, also, there had better be a decent inn in Valten with a good bed.
In the latter, at least, she will be pleasantly enough surprised. The town lacks Umok's pleasant scale, of course, but there is one nice thing about being a gnome in a world sized for larger folk: every bed is a king bed, as it were.
In the meantime, the journey is amusing enough in its way as Hawkren's frustration is palpable. It is likely for the best that he figures the stick out halfway through the voyage, or Majara would have been tempted to hide the thing just to get him to stop sulking over it. Instead, she's able to swap stories with Roger-- his many tales of battles survived and strange things ingested can find some echoes in tales of Majara's own adventuring days, albeit she is currently in their second installment.
There are also herbs to gather en route-- interesting berries to eat-- hawks overhead to watch-- paladins to lightly tease-- and in short, the journey at least goes quicker than it could.
All the same, she's glad when they reach Valten.
"So," she says, as they stand at the base of the gate of their quarry's home, "any suggestions for how we proceed? Honestly, I favor a forthright approach: we are hired to retrieve familial belongings by Pava, and we'd like to negotiate for the locket if she has it. Of course, it runs the risk of her deciding to crank the price up high-- it sounds like she believes in making deals to benefit herself. I don't know what leverage we might have to bring. Pava's goodwill? And therefore a good connection in Saringallow? That presumably would have some weight."
The gnome shrugs. "Open to ideas. But likely best to have an idea for our negotiation tactic before we enter, hmn? Miss Blackford and Hawkren, you both have a reasonably convincing way with people, I think one of you should do most of the talking and the other chime in as needed."
Shoulders dropping a bit, Hawk nods glumly. ”Majara, stop making so much sense. It’s an irritating habit.” He strokes his beard for a moment, ”Emma is an honest broker… disconcertingly honest. The price may be very high if we’re that honest. I’m prepared to shade the truth and see if a bargain can be reached. In terms of tactics, we’re inquiring about family mementos, perhaps with an eye to purchasing them. Nothing specific, and no talk of lockets. Are we agreed?”
"Being as I have you down as intelligent folk, I trust you've worked out what's happening here?" The voice is surprisingly feminine, and you realize—whether you're an expert in identifying dragons by gender or have never contemplated the question before this moment—that unlike its gnome guise, this is definitely a female dragon. Something in the eyes, perhaps, or the way she holds herself, but whatever it is, you instinctively know it to be true.
"My name is Ladunappindon. Most of Umok knows me as Duna."
A sound that's part gasp, part choke of surprise escapes Emma as her hand twitches toward her sword before stopping. Clearly, the dragon before them is no threat, and it would be rather poor form to attempt to smite one's employer—but still, the paladin hadn't been expecting that.
"It's a pleasure to spend time amongst the gnomes. They're a good audience and great fun—someone always has a new joke or riddle, a story or an idea. But with the utmost respect to your kin," she glances at Majara, "occasionally it does get a little exhausting. Hence Nappin. Only a few trusted friends are aware of this guise." Ladunappindon's voice warms with genuine feeling. "And thank you. I am most appreciative of your efforts."
Hawk performs a smooth sweep with his feathered titfer, offering the lady-dragon a half-bow. "Why, yes! My hat is even more magical, having transformed you into a dragon," he quips with a wink.
This time, the noise from Emma is a strangled mixture of cough and laugh.
"THAT'S WHY THE ACID AND ORBIES!" Majara suddenly cries, making Emma jump and emit another choked sound.
"Well, we were joking about there being a third dragon," Roger adds dryly.
It's only then that Emma finally finds her voice, strained though it is. "Happy to help... uh... Miss Dragon." She keeps to herself the thought that she'd enjoyed the challenge—best not to risk offense.
-------
Emma glances between Majara and Hawk, then shrugs her shoulders. "I'll take disconcertingly honest as a compliment, even if it wasn't intended as such," she notes wryly. "That being said, in this particular case, I would say that Hawkren should probably take the lead, though I would be happy to - what is it you said, Majara? - chime in as needed."
"It's a compliment, when the wind is blowing Northwest. But we might be feeling a Southeast breeze."
With no other options apparent, Hawk steps up to the gate and knocks on it before stepping into the open gateway and calling out "Hellooo, the house! Visitors come!"
Shortly after Hawk’s call, the door is opened by a woman with dark blonde hair still just about in the last flush of youth. She is smartly dressed in a servant’s outfit of white blouse, black trousers and bottle green waistcoat. Upon learning that you wish to speak to her mistress, she invites you inside and ushers you into an elegantly decorated parlour. ”I will check if Mistress Adnen can see you now,” she bows. ”She’s a busy woman so you may need to come back at a more suitable time.”
After waiting for a few minutes, giving you the opportunity to peruse the two large paintings in the well-appointed room, a muscular, middle-aged woman with greying hair strides into the room. She regards you thoughtfully before speaking. ”Good day. I am Delara Adnen. My butler informs me you wish to see me, though she neglected to give your names. Have a seat, and we can discuss what brings a group of mysterious strangers - adventurers, if I’m not mistaken - to my door.”
Hawk removes his hat, without affectation, and offers her a half-bow. ”Good day, ma’am. My name is Hawkren Hargraves - tattooist by trade, adventurer by happenstance. With me are Majara, Emma, Nerissia, and Roger. They are indeed adventurers.” He indicates each one with a gesture. Hawk sits only after the lady of the house does. ”Thank you for taking the time to speak with us. We’ll be brief as your butler made it clear you are rather busy…”
Hawk gets right to the point, ”We represent a distant relative of yours. As a child, she was thought lost along with the rest of the Irrica line in the Goblinblood Wars. In truth, she somehow survived the sacking of the family estate and the war, only to wind up in a Chelaxian orphanage for some years.” He continues. ”At any rate, she is digging into her lost history. She has hired us to retrieve items of her family and her childhood.” From his backpack, he removes a couple of the burned children’s toys and presents them to Delara. ”We recovered these from – we believe – what was left of her bedroom at the Irrica manor-house.”
After Delara has a chance to view the toys, he carefully puts them away in his pack. ”Which brings us to your doorstep, ma’am. We found a record that said you may have received some ‘minor possessions and trinkets’ from the Irrica estate as part of an inheritance in the last couple of years. If you have, we’d appreciate a chance to view the trinkets with an eye to acquiring them for Miss Irrica.”
Hawk removes his hat, without affectation, and offers her a half-bow. ”Good day, ma’am. My name is Hawkren Hargraves - tattooist by trade, adventurer by happenstance. With me are Majara, Emma, Nerissia, and Roger. They are indeed adventurers.”
Emma inclines her head when her name is mentioned, and when Hawk pauses, she offers an introduction of her own. "A pleasure, Lady Adnen. You have a lovely home."
She follows Hawk's cue for social niceties.
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"Adventurers indeed. Ever you have trouble, we're close to call in Saringallow." Roger nods his agreement. As the discussion continues, he sort of stares at a couch, then at his own dirty clothes, then raises a hand as though to attempt to dust himself off, thinks better of it, and sort of stands there with an awkward smile.
Delara listens carefully before replying. ”Good day to you too, Hawkren, and your companions.”
She doesn’t get any further before a light knock on the door and a serving girl enters bearing refreshments. She lays them on a side table and inclines her head towards her employer. ”Thank you, Sally,” Delara says and the girl takes her leave.
”Please,” she gestures towards the drinks and nibbles. ”Business is better conducted on a full stomach, don’t you think?” Delara allows the group to help themselves before pouring herself a glass of water from a jug liberally garnished with mint and lemons.
She nods at Roger’s comment and smiles fondly. ”I will bear that in mind. My sword-swinging days are well behind me, but I’m always interested to hear tales of fame and fortune.” Judging from her house and from what you gleaned of your hostess in town, Delara Adnen clearly has no need to hire herself out as a mercenary any more. Either of those landscapes on the wall alone could probably buy her at least a couple of masterwork parrots.
”Interesting,” she says at Hawk’s explanation of their mission. ”I was aware that a claim had been made but not that it had been settled in the girl’s - well, woman’s - favour. Pava Irrica, is it?” She bows her head respectfully as Hawk unveils the damaged toys, before raising her eyebrows and asking, surprised, ”She wants the summer house down towards Swiftrun? Oh yes, I did my research and took a look at it. Don’t worry, I know enough of Chelaxian law to know I have no claim to it and frankly it looked like a terrible investment,” she smiles. ”I didn’t get rich throwing money into costly renovation projects like that, though I suppose as her family seat she probably places rather more value on it than an uninterested party.”
”It would also appear that either you or your employer have done your research too, I did indeed inherit a number of possessions - jewellery and small knick-knacks - at the turn of last year. I will add that per the law these came to me by right as there was no known heir at the time. I’m sure Ms Irrica is also familiar enough with the law to know this too, hence your choice of the term ‘acquire’, no doubt.” She smiles at Hawk, demonstrating the typical Druman head for business. ”As it happens, you’re in luck. Beyond getting a valuation and taking out a commensurate insurance policy, I still have them all. Frankly none of them are to my tastes, though my daughter has taken a couple of pieces. I’ll have Stefani fetch them.” She rings a small handbell and, after she enters, instructs the blonde woman who initially greeted you at the house to retrieve the items.
Majara nods courteously to Lady Adnen as they are introduced, but otherwise allows the more socially adept Hawkren to carry the matter. She settles herself on a footstool and has a glass of the mint-lemon water, which she samples with a professional interest for the flavor balance. Mm, not bad.
She gazes around the room, idly assessing various furnishings, as they wait for the items to be brought in.
The sorcerer enjoys a couple of the savory petit fours with a nod of thanks. Even while eating (and swallowing before speaking) he keeps his answers succinct and candid.
”I was aware that a claim had been made but not that it had been settled in the girl’s - well, woman’s - favour. Pava Irrica, is it?”
”Yes, ma’am, it is Pava Irrica. Cheliax recently decided the matter in her favor.”
”She wants the summer house down towards Swiftrun? Oh yes, I did my research and took a look at it.”
Hawk chuckles, ”I agree. It will need a LOT of work, particularly after the Scorchfeather goblins made an example of its interior.”
“Don’t worry, I know enough of Chelaxian law to know I have no claim to it and frankly it looked like a terrible investment… …I will add that per the law these came to me by right as there was no known heir at the time. I’m sure Ms Irrica is also familiar enough with the law to know this too, hence your choice of the term ‘acquire’, no doubt.”
Addressing the undertone of Delara’s comments, he replies, ”Ma’am, none of us are barristers. We discovered the note about your inheritance ourselves during our search for information. I don’t recall any of us mentioning it to Miss Irrica. It’s possible she knew about the note beforehand and thought it funny to have us spend hours combing through old records. But we are here of our own accord. Miss Irrica didn’t send us to approach you.” He taps his backpack, on the pocket where the children’s toys are stored. ”But with our unimpressive finds at the ‘summer house’, we decided that coming to see you was a prudent choice to satisfy Miss Irrica’s desires.”
He takes a sip of the flavored water, ”If I may be so bold as to say… I’m a Varisian, from Varisia. I’ve only been in this region for half a year. My dealings with the legal machinations of Cheliax have been few and unpleasant. If you and Miss Irrica wish to exchange legal blows over the summer house or your respective inheritances… I would be amused to hear about it. Miss Irrica isn’t the warmest employer. That said, we’d rather deal with you in a forthright manner so we can deliver a set of keepsakes to her and conclude our business with Miss Irrica as quickly as possible.”
Delara nods, "I appreciate you candour, Hawkren. In the same spirit, I will be clear. I make no claim on any Irrica property beyond that which was already legally given to me before Ms Irrica's claim became known and settled. By both blood and law Pava Irrica is demonstrably the family heir and welcome to it. You'll have no trouble from me." She takes a drink and smooths her iron grey hair.
"In truth I am but a very distant relation and was frankly surprised to find that I was to inherit anything, especially after so many years. As I said, I'm not personally attached to it and more than happy to come to an arrangement that will satisfy all parties. I trust we understand each other?"
Hawk nods, "We do, ma'am. And we'll convey your position on her inheritance to Miss Irrica when next we see her. It should please her."
Emma notices Roger appraising the state of his clothes, and then glances down at her own. Decent enough, she supposes, though in need of a wash at the next opportunity. She was never really one for pomp and circumstance, though there is at least something genuine about Delara that she finds agreeable.
She tries some of the flavored water and glances around at the room, glad that Hawkren is handling most of the nitty gritty details.
Delara’s steward returns in due course, bringing forth a jewellery box and a collection of assorted ornaments, which she places on a table. The pieces include a large, beautifully symmetrical seashell and half a dozen abstract statuettes of figures around six inches in height. Opening the box, much of the jewellery is obsidian, as well as a few cheap silver rings. There is also a gold locket in the shape of a heart. The surface is smooth and devoid of inscription, but a tiny mechanism looks like it will open it.