Eddrikk is no expert at sneaking around or hiding, he hides as best he can behind a wood pile.
The day is pretty much uneventful.
Then the afternoon is disturbed by a pair of dwarves, wander out of the building, and make their way over to the "humans". They are armed, the are armoured... but seem casual enough as they mutter in what might be dwarvish with each other.
Eh, ye tall stilted bastard, who we need to kill t' get a meal? Ya got a stew goon' or sum sort of lobscouse?, one says.
Hey, where's Stevi at? You buggers new?, asks the other.
”Ah, ya wee knee high sproots. Tha laydee called fer maw folk to replace bluddy Gyrion’s braw fools who gots theirsells slottered. Comm in fer sa’ stew, Stevi cannae cook but salt cures all sins.” Sarn attempts to be genial, aping Brother Hergix who claimed he was dwarvish on his father’s side. ”Eddrikk? Eddrikk, stop pissin’ by the woodpile and meet your friends!”
Din listened to the conversation through the tent walls waiting to see how the conversation goes.
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Eddrikk wanders out from behind the wood pile. "Aye an who might these friends be?" He walks to the tent axe in hand. "It's been a while since I last saw dwarven faces, well met."
Hang on... we're meant to be exclusive like! What's the go 'ere. Explain yerself!, hands are put to weapon hilts but not weapons are not drawn.
Just how many offers did that twat Gyrion and his witch make anyway? And what's this about th' boys bein' slaughtered?
Sarn smiles. ”See, Eddrikk, I told you it’s no wonder people say dwarves become aggressive at the slightest provocation.”
Hands are to weapon hilts and the dwarves glare belligerently at the party.
They are both armed AND armoured, wearing chainmail that covers elbow to chest to knees. Along with their iron caps? They'll be some tough foes. Dwarfs have a reputation for being able to soak up punishing amounts of pain and injuries. The only thing in your favour is they aren't carrying shields... perhaps a sign they weren't expecting a fight.
That said... what in the name of the lord of the seven hells would Dwarves be sharing the same structure as goblins?!
Eddrikk wanders out from behind the wood pile. "Aye an who might these friends be?" He walks to the tent axe in hand. "It's been a while since I last saw dwarven faces, well met."
I am Cagbral Maryam, and this 'ere is Urias Banhammer.
”We heard some of Gyrion’s men were killed on the road” - Terion shrugged, his own hand testing casually on the morningstar - ”Don’t know, don’t really care. Not sure where Stevi wandered off to, but no one told us we were supposed to be on cook duty here anyway” - he added - ”You wouldn’t want to taste my stew, that’s for damn sure” - the warrior finished with a chuckle.
Hands never leave weapons but the tension comes down a notch.
Well... f*~@ on a stick. I'm gonna wait for Valanunthe to find out about that shit nugget. She's very expressive for an elf. Gonna be pissed off if she's undercut us and hired multiple dwarf crews.
Banhammer scratches his beard with his off hand.
So that's no on food eh? Good thing we have a bit of cram and other rations then. Just remember you mob need to stop sunside. Those f$!~ing ugly bastards they have in th' building will rob, kill, gut and eat you. Hopefully in that order.
Sarn struggles to both understand more than half of what Banhammer says, and to not say anything incriminating.
”Staying sunside alreet, not a wurry thair.” he nods with a slight sideswipe of his head and squinting of one eye to indicate a positive intent.
”I thought we were all working together” - Terion grumbled - ”Do you mean them lizard like things? Why don’t they turn on the gobbos then?”
That knife eared witch has her ways. For us? A pretty decent contract - our work proper starts when she leaves. For the gobbos? Well, we understand a bit of their mewling. Seems she promised them this site once she was done with it.
Banhammer gave the party a grim smile.
Pretty sure she promised those man lizards the Gobbos.
Cagbral gave Urias a dig with his elbow, as if to shut him up.
Yeah, said too much. Just stay sunside is all eh'? More than jus' us down there okay?
”Yairs. There are goblins and the scalykind as well.” Sarn nods knowingly.
His brows knit suddenly as a thought occurs.
”Hang on, what about at night time? How do we stay sunside then?” he asks, completely forgetting to use his “dwarvy” accent.
Din listens to the conversation through the tent ready to bash the prisoner over the head with his staff if he does anything to try to alert the dwarves. He looks menacingly down at the man, He never mentioned dwarves. There will be a reckoning once this is settled.
The remaining bandit looks enthusiastic about keeping quiet...
----
With a grunt the dwarves head back in...
See about throwin' something together to eat tonight an' we'll throw in a skin of beer for it.
Din smacks the restrained bandit over the head, ”Is there anything else you failed to mention? Like the dwarves!”
Ooow! Well, shit, I had other things I my mind didn't it? Like half me friends being murdered...'sides, they're only little like.
Sarn wanders in to see Din whacking Stevi. Having seen (and felt) the effects of such forward education he thinks little of it.
He crouches by Stevi, offering him a bite of his rations.
”So, goblins and scalykind, dwarves and humans and a lass with daggers for ears. A rude lot indeed. Well, Stevi (and here Sarn tilts his head forward and squints one eye, fixing the other on Stevi at an odd upward angle in an effort to look suitably…mysterious and commanding) would ye like some water?”
Course I would!
The mage shakes his head at the cleric and interrupted, ”We’ll get you some water once you are more forth coming about the occupants. Have ye remembered anyone or anything else,” the mage asked angrily.
Sarn eyes the young man balefully, and for good measure sloshes his waterskin meaningfully and takes a swig.
”Mm-hmm. Aqua vitae, the water of life. Which wolf wants a drink Stevi, the good one or the one’s gonna hang? Answer the magician, and answer truthfully lest he turn you into something unmentionable.”
The mage looks down at the brigand and began to wiggle his fingers in parody of casting a spell.
Well shit! I don't know! Honest! I forgot about the runty bastards and I don't know what else her hotpantsness has stashed beyond that door!
All clear Nilelane.
Interrogation aside, the time... so far... is passing quietly enough. While jerky seems in short supply, no doubt due to the lizard monster things raiding the barrel, there are rations enough for a midday meal.
No sign of goblins but now would be their hide and sleep part of their day.
Terion had taken some time to ponder all the info they had - "It seems to me the dwarves we've just met are kinda 'neutral' on all this - they were paid to do a job, that is all. Just not completely sure what the job is - if it means only as hired muscle or something more. But I guess if we manage to cook them a decent dinner, they might be more forthcoming with info" - he commented - "Stevie, what do you do for food around here?"
”Well, answer the man Stevie, the mage encouraged with a sneer.
Well... bean stew, y'know... Pottage... and maybe some oat porridge with dried apricots for desert if we're feeling fancy. Not exactly a lot of options here. I mean you could try hellfire stew as well, hard tack that's fried in bacon grease and broken up in the pan, throw in some crushed pepper corns and it ain't too bad.
"That is not what I was asking" - Terion chuckled - "Do you have the supplies here, or do you forage and hunt? Dessert..." - he adds, shaking his head - "Boy's a veritable chef, it seems"
Remembering the honeyed treats and greasy morsels that occasionally appeared at mealtimes from Brother Fentivr’s kitchen makes Sarn’s stomach growl. He begins to rummage in his own pack for rations.
”There’ll be a pot of grease hereabouts I’m sure. But supplementing the supplies here [waves airily over his shoulder as he crams hard, dry rations in his mouth] wif frefsh meat is what vey’ll do. *Koff*. Bruvver Fentivr did ve fame at ve temple.”
One is a supply tent... but thin on supplies. Some canvas bags of hard tack, a small portable stone mill, some half filled bags of grain and a nearly empty barrel of meat jerky... probably horse jerky.
Just what's in the tent over ways there... there's some bacon grease there I reckon. The cook guy went out with the Cap'n... he's probably dead.
”Fee? Juft like I fed.” nods Sarn, crumbs liberally spilling from his mouth. ”Need a drink…”
Just what's in the tent over ways there... there's some bacon grease there I reckon. The cook guy went out with the Cap'n... he's probably dead.
"Solid! I am sure we can make something good with that, then we may get the dwarves on our side" - he turns to the others - "Are we in agreement? We can offer them payment?"
"If we could get the dwarves on our side before any of those scaled things come out, I say we should try to take it down. If not, I think we should play it safe and keep a low profile" - he ponders - "If any gobbos come out, we can just plant the seeds that the scaled ones were promised they could eat them, and that should be confusion enough when they go back in" - he chuckles.
Sarn tries his hardest to follow along. There is talk of payment, and planting seeds and a low profile. Mostly though he nods along completely flummoxed. After the plan is explained, slowly and a few times he understands. The priest is amenable to going on a small hunting and foraging expedition.
”Brother Fulx showed me how to make snares, and I’m sure between us we can snag something bigger than coneys…”