Betzolte Ironhame |
Betzolte replies "I humbly and gratefully accept your hospitality, O noble Prince of Dancing Leaves," before beginning to eat with gusto, now reassured no unexpected transformations or durances would begin. She listens to the Wyldlord's stories with rapt attention, and asks more about him and his exploits, his sister's health after retrieving her heart from Ganny Black Tongue, what ways they can strategize to deal with the hag's foul influence among Lugruk's ranks and save Meep from harm. By the time the strange bottle is brought out, there's a stack of plates to Betzolte's side almost as tall as Maidie now is, while Betzolte herself leans back in her chair, one hand in a fist covering her mouth as she belches and the other patting her very full stomach.
"Excuse me...Your cooks *hic!* have my sincerest compliments, Fernan. This was almost as good as my mother's cooking!" she says with a smile.
When Fernan begins explaining what they're about to do, her smile shifts to a more serious expression and she nods. She chuckles a bit at Erigga's bold statement and nods.
"Ready when you are," she says. "What kind of dwarf OR wizard would I be if I was afraid of an after-dinner tipple, magic or no magic?"
She quaffs the goblet, noting the flavor as it hits her tongue and trying not to drink too quickly to puzzle out its nuances, before turning her attention to Emerald and waiting for the magic to kick in.
DM-Salsa |
1 person marked this as a favorite. |
The flavor of the wine is unlike anything you have ever had before. The flavor seems to remind you of every delicious thing you have had before, but while also having its own unique flavor. It makes your minds blaze even as you can feel the pull of sleep on you.
All eyes turn to Emerald after Kernan downs his own goblet. The dragon turned human girl looks at her own goblet nervously before steeling her nerves and draining her own goblet. As she sets it down, everyone's eyelids begin to feel heavy. Before anyone can say anything, sleep takes you and carries you off into the realm of dreams and memories.
It is like many other dinners you had as a child. Everyone in the Henrod family talking and laughing as a thick, rich stew is ladled into bowls. Your brothers, their wives, your sister, your nieces and nephews, and your parents all laugh and smile, but something feels off. The smell of the food is muddled by an iron tang. The cold clamminess of death hangs heavy in the air. The moonlight streaming through the windows is red, the color of blood.
You look down at your bowl and find it is full of blood with bits of meat you can't identify floating in it, at least until a halfling's finger floats to the surface. You feel the color drain from your face as a human's toe joins it.
"Maidie? What's wrong," your mother asks. Looking up, you see that everyone else at the table is now a werewolf, their red glowing eyes fixed on you as blood drips from the fur around their mouths. The plinking sound of a drop of water falling into a still pool cuts through the thunder of your beating heart. The hunger they look at you with grows with each passing moment as you realize you can't remember your spells, any of them.
"You haven't touched your food," your mother continues as Jayden absently takes another bite, the crack of splitting bone deafening in the quiet. Garth and Lizzie lick their lips as they lean forward in their chairs. "Are you felling well," your mother asks, a low, eager growl slowly building as she speaks. "You're worrying me. You're starting to smell like prey."
In the far distance, a wolf howls, and it is answered by a chorus of hunger. Your heart beats faster as you see over a score of red-glowing and hungry eyes fixed on you, watching, waiting.
What do you do?
You find yourself as you were when you were about five or six years old. The other kids had told you they couldn't play with you. You are too big, and their parents are all scared that you would hurt them badly by accident, not knowing your own strength, at least those that don't think you'd do it on purpose. Your mother is busy with an order, and you are too young to be able to help. All that is left to you is to wander and hide while you try to figure out where you belong or how you can make friends.
Kassen is covered in fog as you trudge down the streets and to the gate that lead to your favorite part of the woods, a clearing where you can be alone and not worry about others. Everything feels too small and cramped as you pass house after house. When you make it to the gate, you have to duck through it to avoid banging your head against the lintel. as you walk through the woods, you hear nor birds or other animals, just the rustling of the leaves.
You come to your senses on the street just outside of the house Maidie and the rest of the Henrods live in. The air is cold and the snow stained red by the light of the bright-red moon that hangs huge and full in the night sky. Kernan, the Prince of Dancing Leaves, stands next to you with a frown on his face. Looking around, neither of you see the others. Mist obscures the trees and the scent of blood and death are everywhere. Fresh blood leaves dark streaks and pools in the snow and on the half-frozen mud left behind by days of people walking back and forth through the small town. In the distance, a wolf howls to be answered by a chorus of its fellows.
"Well, it seems that at least one of your friends has fallen too deeply into their dreams. This one does not appear to be a pleasant one, either," he says quietly.
The two of you and Emerald come to in the middle of Kassen's square. Fog covers the town, though there's enough light to see each other clearly, at least when you aren't obscured by fog. All three of you are young girls, Moon and Erigga appear to be about six or seven years old, while Emerald looks about five years old. Erigga wears a simple dress over a chemise that are both large on her. Moon wears a far more elegant dress that is clearly of elven make and design, and one that Moon recognizes as the one she had Meep wear when they had supper with Grobradon and Coldanna what seems like a lifetime ago. Emerald looks at herself in confusion as she sees she's wearing a strange, at least to her and Erigga, outfit of layered silken robes with the image of a stylized green dragon on the left side of the bottom of the outermost robe. A wide silken sash covering from her waist to her bust ties the robes closed.
Before anyone can say anything, a giant-sized version of Grobradon as a young boy strides through the square and towards one of the town's gates where he ducks through it and out into the woods.
Moon:
You recognize the direction he is heading in as towards a secluded grove in the forest where both you and he spent much of your time growing up in solitude.
What do y'all do?
Grobradon |
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It HURTS! it hurts it hurts... to be told you're a monster. Oh they don't all say he is but too big? how can he be too big? he's Grob sized, it isn't HIS fault. He grabs a stick and swings it angrily. He knows where to go...
to the trees. Trees don't tell him he's too big. Some of them are huge after all. He moves through the fog, he can see in the dark better than most. Does that make him a monster? He listens for animals and wonders if the fog is making them shush?
Or do even the animals think he's a monster now?
That hurts even more.
He makes his way towards his goal, ducking his head.
Betzolte Ironhame |
"One of them, but you're not sure who?" she says, more seeking confirmation of her own suspicion than asking a question. "I'm suddenly regretting coming into this experience with a full stomach. Apologies in advance if I get sick, milord."
DM-Salsa |
Kernan actually laughs as you apologize in advance.
"It's hardly the first time I've had someone-- Hmm, what was the phrase again? Toss their cookies?" He shrugs before hold up a hand. "I can try easing your stomach if you wish, but it will probably make things worse when we do wake up."
Whether or not you accept his offer, he looks around.
"Unfortunately, I don't know who, but this place is likely a clue. Do you recognize it," he asks.
Betzolte Ironhame |
"This is Kassen, our home. More specifically, that's Maidie and her family's house...but if we're here and Maidie isn't, what does that mean? Especially with the...ambiance?" she says, gesticulating a bit around her.
Moon Akechi |
I’m offering a suggestion. Erigga, do you have a better idea?
DM-Salsa |
"Most likely? I think we're in a nightmare of Maidie's," Kernan answers.
Going to wait for Maidie's response before continuing this further.
Emerald blushes at Moon's compliment. She looks around, seeming more curious than scared before saying anything.
"Where is he going? Where are we? I've never seen this place or this robe before," she says. Her voice, while still recognizable as hers, is very much that of a child's.
As you make your way through the forest, you see a few animals out in the dense fog. They seem to treat you no differently than before. If anything, they seem more at ease around you than you recall them being. The minutes pass by before you arrive at the quiet place you found. The soft sound of the brook running over the stones in it's bed is muted in the gloomy mist, but the quiet and the peace soothe the burgeoning anger and carry it away with the cool running water, leaving only the painful sorrow behind.
Moon Akechi |
Betzolte Ironhame |
"Most likely, yes...hrmm...raises a lot of questions: if this is Maidie's nightmare, where is she? And why are the two of us here specifically instead of with the others? Do we go in the house? Into the woods? See if there's a dream version of Holgast's tower?"
She's more thinking out loud than asking questions.
[ooc]Understand we're waiting for Maidie, just showing Betzolte's more analytical side! ;)
Maidie Henrod |
With abject horror, Maidie realizes that her entire family have succumbed to the bloodlust of the lycanthropy curse. And that she now has only three options, each equally horrible and uncceptable: Join them, destroy them or be devoured by them.
Gripped by fear, her otherwise sharp and analytical mind refuses to process those options any further, and her only response is to push back her chair, spilling the gory stew as a shriek of utter terror escapes her clenched throat.
You hear Maidie scream with dread from within the house.
Betzolte Ironhame |
"That answers that question, let's go!"
Betzolte slams her body into the door to force it open.
"Maidie?" she calls. "I'm here! What in Hell's going on?!"
DM-Salsa |
Emerald's eyes sparkle as Moon tells her about the robe and Kassen, but she bites back the questions that she desperately wants to ask. Instead she looks at Erigga to see what she thinks of this. Moon's plan sounds like a good one, but there's a part of her that would find it comforting to know that she's not the only one feeling out of her depth, especially since she is, or was at least, a dragon.
Kernan follows behind Betzolte after she breaks the door down in a hail of splintering wood. Maidie scrambles and slides on the seat of her pants away from the table and the overturned bowl that had been full of severed digits, chunks of meat, and steaming blood. Almost a dozen werewolves, all of Maidie's family, surround the table and lean towards Maidie, blood and gore dripping from slavering maws. They turn lambent red eyes on the newcomers.
"Prey!"
"Food!"
"Intruders!"
The words come as hunger and rage draws forth a chorus of growls. Kernan's eyes blaze with fire as he raises a wall of flame between the werewolves and Maide, Betzolte, himself, and the door.
"Questions later! We need to go," he says as he rushes past Betzolte and hauls Maidie to her feet and drags both mages out the door as the werewolves howl in rage and fear. As the trio flee the house, the breaking of wood and the snarling of wolves announces that Maidie's family is now free to hunt.
It feels as if an eternity passes before you stop running. Your breathing is heavy and your legs feel both like jelly and like lead. The howling of the wolves and werewolves is far into the distance. Overhead, the full moon has not moved at all. A chill wind blows your scent away from the direction of the howls, a small mercy for the moment as you catch your breath.
"Maidie," Kernan says. "Do you remember us?"
Maidie Henrod |
"I do...you're the Prince of Dancing Leaves...and we drank the Dreamwalker Wine." Maidie stammers, her mental faculties slowly escaping the grip of terror. She looks at the fey prince with pleading eyes.
"Please tell me that this is just a bad dream...that none of this is real."
DM-Salsa |
"It is just a bad dream," Kernan says with a reassuring smile. He holds his hands out to one side as if he's holding something before flicking his wrists and a warm-looking blanket appears in them. He wraps the blanket around both Maidie's and Betzolte's shoulders. It's a warm, comforting weight, like the hug of a parent or a beloved pet napping by your side.
"I do not know what all that we saw portends, but you are safe. It is only a dream. See," he asks as he gestures up at the moon. As Maidie calms down, it loses its ominous red-tint, casting the night-time forest in a less foreboding light. "You have nothing to worry about here."
As silence settles over the three of you, the howling of the wolves fades into nothing. Before long, it is just a calm, cold, winter's night lit by the white glow of a full moon in a clear and starry sky.
Grobradon |
The anger passes, the sorrow remains.
Something is familiar about this pain, this sorrow.
Something is off.
And yet, this is a true thing; the pain and sadness is true.
He moves to the stream, it's too fast to see his reflection really, so he runs his fingers through it. His green big ole for his age fingers.
And now that he's alone , or at least away from people, he sniffles a bit.
Betzolte Ironhame |
"Magrim's saggy marblesack, THAT'S a cramp!" she complains after a long groan. "Yeah, running on a full stomach is NOT fun."
As they settle into the warm blanket, however, her expression softens and she offers Maidie a hug of her own as well.
Should I make a Sense Motive check or something to understand the significance of what we've seen?
Moon Akechi |
While Erigga and Emerald adapt to their new surroundings, Moon isn’t going to stand around. She takes a different tack. ”Let’s divide and conquer. I’ll get Grob while you guys try to find the rest of the group. We’ll meet up in the town square.” She points in different directions, ”Maidie’s house is that way and Betz’s is over there.”
Little Moon nods decisively, spins, and heads out the gate in pursuit of Grobradon.
DM-Salsa |
You can, but it might be quicker to ask Maidie.
Kernan grimaces in sympathy as a full belly causes Betzolte more than a little pain and discomfort.
"Hardly seems fair that we should experience something like that when we're not even awake," he says.
It becomes clear after a minute that there's no one in town. Maidie's house is empty, not just of people but of furniture or anything else that would be in a home. The interior is fuzzy, as if viewed through sleep bleary eyes or only vaguely remembered. Checking Betzolte's house reveals the same. Without much other choice, Erigga and Emerald chase after Moon, the dragon-girl having a bit of a hard time keeping up despite her best efforts.
After a short while, Moon leads the trio to a grove where a babbling brook passes through it. Sitting next to it, his fingers feeling the flow of the water as it rushes past them, is Grobradon, looking the same age as Emerald but standing as tall as a giant. He sniffles, unaware that you are there.
Feel free to announce yourselves.
The water is cool, but not uncomfortably so. The patterns the rippling water makes as it passes by dance and swirl around in a hypnotic ballet that soon has almost all of your attention as you study the movements of the water.
Moon Akechi |
DM-Salsa |
Moon, and for that matter both Erigga and Emerald all look to be between five and seven years old. Moon is wearing the same dress Meep wore the first night the two of them had supper with Grobradon and his mother. Erigga is wearing a dress and chemise that look a little big on her tiny frame, and Emerald is wearing a black kimono with the image of a stylized green dragon on the left side of the bottom and a wide, green silken sash that's tied in the back. Grobradon, meanwhile, looks to be only five years old himself, dressed in a simple tunic and pants. The only difference is that he's already the size of a giant.
Emerald looks from Moon to Erigga, a nervous frown on her face that tells anyone looking that she's not certain what to do.
Grobradon |
The boy whirls at the intrusion on his hidey spot.
But then her words, and the dresses, memories that.... haven't happened yet? No wait, they did.
He shakes his head "What am I doing? I'm.. wow, I got caught up in... I forgot what year this was. I..well, this is mortifying." He rises.
[B]"We were here for a job right? Help learn what happened to Tailliere??"
Betzolte Ironhame |
1 person marked this as a favorite. |
DM-Salsa |
Okay, I'm just going to rule that with that roll you don't know enough to really interpret anything unless Maidie wants to say what Betzolte can figure out.
Moon Akechi |
Maidie Henrod |
Despite the comfort of the magic blanket, Maidie suppresses a shudder at Kernan's words.
"What we saw may have been just a dream, but like all nightmares it was seeded by real fears...if we don't stop Ganny Black Tongue, we'll soon have to fight the werewolf goblins of the Bloodmoon tribe and risk infection that could turn us into bloodthirsty beast as well," she says, unwilling to reveal the true source of her nightmare.
After a moments hesitation, she adds:
"Prince Kernan, do you have the power to lift the curse of lycanthropy or knowledge about how to do it?"
Erigga Ironheart |
"Kernan said we were supposed to help Emerald and that we should have focused on her as we drunk the wine... if this is Dreamland, it feels odd we are in Kassen, for Emerald isn't from there, right?" She asks Emerald.
So Erigga was a small girl and those clothes were Ro's old ones, ill fitting as they used to be. None of them knew about it but her, so it made sense her 'form' was somewhat drawn from her own memory. "Don't think we are in her dream. We are not in mine as well for I did not know this place." Aside from the fact she wasn't naked. For some reason Desna found it fit to have her being naked in a good amount of her dreams. Figures.
"Just based on Grob's size and because we three were already together, I'd say it is pretty safe bet we are in Grob's dream. Or nightmare." She states, looking at Grob. "So you are our guide, Grob." She almost said 'big guy', but felt she shouldn't. "Do you feel you can get us out of it? Perhaps you can work with Emerald to reach hers." Or his. That would be a plot twist.
Moon Akechi |
Moon begins to stroll in a widening circle, looking for anything out of place or tracks other than their own.
Perception: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (12) + 12 = 24 (+2 vs Undead; +2 in forests)
Survival (Track): 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (8) + 12 = 20 (+2 vs Undead; +2 in forests)
Grobradon |
He shakes his head, "Haven't seen them, honestly? Until now I haven't been thinking of them. I got ...mired." Yes, that's the word.
At the idea he's a guide, he frowns "I'm not sure about that, Erigga. I don't remember ANYTHING in my childhood that had to do with green dragons."
As Moon looks for Clues, he ponders where a Green Dragon might build a lair nearby if anywhere.
No Knowledge Arcana, but if it helps
Knowledge Nature: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (4) + 11 = 15
Knowledge Geography: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20
Betzolte Ironhame |
I gotta invest in Sense Motive at some point, Betzolte is far too trusting. :P
"And just as importantly," she adds, turning to Kernan, "What about the others? Are they in the same dream or do we have to do some kind of 'dreamwine magic' to catch up with them?"
DM-Salsa |
"The others are probably in someone else's dream. It's not unheard of for people in the same dream to wind up in different places, but it is unusual. We should have run into them by now if they were in this dream," he says before turning to Maidie and giving her curious look. "Lycanthropy is a powerful curse. It can be undone, but anything I or any other fey short of those that do possess godlike power can do will leave a mark. Trust me when I say that you do not want to ask those fey that can simply unravel the curse without changing the person affected by it to do so. They are a capricious lot that are always looking for entertainment."
He stands up and helps the two of you to your feet.
"If you two are feeling better, I think it's time to see where we can find our other companions."
Kernan leads you to a hill with a large cave in its side. As you follow him deeper into it, the darkness grows thick and muffles everything as it smothers your vision. Even Betzolte cannot see anything, as all either of you can hear are your footsteps and the beating of your hearts. You hold each other close as you instinctively follow as closely as you can on Kernan's heels.
Erigga's suggestion has merit. As Grobradon and Moon look for clues and places where a green dragon might make a lair, Emerald starts to feel a pull on her mind. As Moon discovers the tracks of a dragon and Grobradon recognizes the path to a large cave not too far from town, the dragon turned human girl falls into a trance and leads the others deep into the cave.
As you follow Emerald, the darkness grows thick and muffles everything as it smothers your vision. Even Grobradon cannot see anything, as all you hear are your footsteps and the beating of your own hearts. You can feel the heat of the others as you instinctively huddle closer together and follow Emerald as closely as you can.
Bit by bit, your awareness of your surroundings and your senses fade away. Soon all that is left is the steady beat of your heart. Slowly, things come into focus. The beating of your clutchmates', your sibling's hearts, the rumble of your parents' voices. The heavy thudding of their footsteps as they moved around. You are a dragon, a green dragon, intelligent, cunning, keen, and strong. Instinctively, you know what that means, what it is to be, and what you are. The only flaw is that you can't remember your name. You should, you know you should, but where your name should be is a singing, hollow void.
Before you can ponder more on that, you feel an urge. You need to breathe, to move. You have to get out of this prison you're in. Your heart beats faster and faster as you fight through what's left of the fluid in your egg and use your horn to pierce its shell. You fight to spread your wings and your legs, but the shell of your egg is still too strong. You thrash and writhe, breaking through bit by bit with your horn as your lungs cry out for air. You have to breath, but you know that doing so now will kill you.
Just as you are sure you'll die before you can even live, your head breaks free and you take in a deep gulp of air. You pull yourself out of the egg, coughing up what's left of the fluid in your lungs. You're the last one to hatch, the smallest of the brood. Looking around, you see contempt in the eyes of your siblings and parents and three eggs with cracks where the wyrmlings they held had begun to hatch, but lacked the strength to carry through. A chill runs through you as you realize that was almost your fate. The chill is soon banished, however, as you feel rage at your siblings and parents, your family for whatever that is worth. How dare they look down on you. You are strong enough to survive, to live. That proves you are worth more than the contempt they show you.
Hunger chases away all thought as a pair of deer carcasses are dropped before you and your siblings. You rush in to sate your hunger, but your stronger and larger siblings push you away, snapping at you when you try again. All that is left for you are the scraps of meat left on the bone and the bits of marrow the others did not bother digging out. It's enough to keep you going, but even as you fall asleep, you know that it's not enough to do so for long.
===
In the months since your hatching, you've grown the least of your siblings. Despite being the runt of the brood, you have ingratiated yourself with your parents. You don't harbor any illusions that they love you. Love is a luxury of the weak and feckless, after all. However, you know that they do value what you have done, organizing their hoard and cataloguing their tomes. Since learning to hunt for yourself, they've been delighted that all you have asked for is permission to read their library whenever you wish. They find your bookishness amusing if nothing else.
That is fine with you. After all, knowledge can be just as important as strength, so why wouldn't you arm yourself with something that your siblings have yet to see the value of? Knowing that you are developing an edge over your siblings, however, is only part of the reason you derive so much pleasure from your reading. It is learning new things and imagining places you've never been that has been the true joy you've found in reading. That your parents allowed you to have a few works of fiction they cared nothing for meant that you were the first to start your own hoard is just something that makes your reading habit just a bit sweeter.
Two of your siblings, only a little larger and stronger than yourself, come up to you as you are enjoying your passtime. Ghidonrioch and Trintheria, you remind yourself. You wonder why they have come, considering that you made it clear that you wouldn't help any of your clutchmates steal from your parents' hoard, and your parents had brutally punished the one that tried to kill you for your refusal. None of them before now had bothered.
"---," Ghidonrioch said, your name erased even when in others' mouths. "Trintheria and I have been wondering. Would you like to join us?"
You cock your head curiously at the proposal. You're not so trusting as to accept it right away, no dragon could be, and you're the weakest of your clutch. Trust is a luxury you cannot afford.
"Why me? Why not someone stronger? Lanthriax or Xualanath seem better choices," you tell them. It stings to admit as much, but lies about yourself are also a luxury you can't afford.
"They are stronger, true," Trintheria agrees, "but you are smarter. You know more about the world. You've even made Glorianax and Nidhonrioch acknowledge you and defend you from the others by making yourself valuable to them."
That you must admit is true. It was more about survival than being smart, you feel, but there's no reason to tell your siblings that.
"If I join you, what would you have me do," you ask. "Would you give your word to this alliance as I would give mine?"
They hesitate, knowing what that would mean, but they slowly nod. Excellent. Now the negotiations can begin.
===
The years pass as the three of you slowly amass wealth and a hoard that rivals dragons far more powerful than the three of you. Using your knowledge and skill at appraisals, you come up with various schemes to acquire treasure and favors that you can use to further your ends. After leaving your parents' lair, you travel around the southern shore of Lake Encarthan before settling in a forest that soon becomes part of the kingdom of Razmiran, the country of the Living God. You scoff at his claim to divinity, but you are under no illusions about the power Razmir wields, and you make it clear that none of you should do anything to attract the attention of him or his church.
While some of your hoard is amassed through raids, most comes from various dealings you have with the lesser races. By far the biggest and most satisfying was taking the wealth of a Kalistocrat that had all but drained his Druman business partner's coffers dry. You may not care for the softskins, but you despise people who cheat others by breaking their word. The Druman had died since that day, but his granddaughter still sent a tithe to them even after three decades. That you are able to provide expertise that she can use to make better deals for herself and her village, for a fee, of course, only makes her more willing to keep up her end of the deal that you had struck makes it just that much better. Besides, you admit to yourself, you have a soft spot for the human woman. She is shrewd and calculating. It is a shame that she is doomed to die before you've made it even fifteen decades.
Life, you admit, is good. You have access to almost any book you want, and with your siblings' help, you have amassed a hoard that would make dragons many times your age jealous. You can hardly imagine anything going wrong, now, so long as you, Ghidonrioch, and Trintheria keep a low profile and stay hidden.
You really should have known better.
You don't know why, but your siblings broke their oath to you, even as you had kept yours to them. They will be pariahs among the other green dragons if word ever gets out. They have to kill you. The fight is vicious, as you are mauled and beaten by two dragons that have grown stronger than you. Even after seventy-five years, you are still the runt. You ask why, but your questions are met with fury and violence. The betrayal hurts more than you could ever have imagined, and with no other options, you take wing into the cold winter's night as a storm blows in. Behind you, you hear the roars of contempt and promises that they will hunt you down from your siblings. It hardly matters, though. Even as your instincts and will fight it, you know that you will die in the brewing storm.
===
You're exhausted as you see a snow-covered clearing below. It's all you can do not to just plummet out of the sky and crash into the glade. You have survived the storm, but now what? You have no haven, no lair, no hoard. You are weakened and injured. Anyone that finds you won't have a hard time killing you, and even a young dragon's remains can make for valuable materials. You land near one end of the glade, intending to slink into the trees and hope you can find a place to rest and lick your wounds.
Fickle fate has other ideas.
Oh! Dragonses! Let's play! Let's Play, an unfamiliar voice calls out in your mind. You shake your head, hoping to clear the voice away.
I am in no mood to play, you reply, putting as much steel as you can into the thought, but even in your mind and to yourself, you sound defeated and tired. Just let me be.
But I wantses to play! We play! We play! I wantses to have fun. I'll have funses with you whether you wantses to or not!
Your ire roused, you start to reply, but everything gets bigger and much colder as you feel something odd happening to you. Your wings are gone, your scales have turned into soft, pinkish skin. Your mouth is smaller, and your teeth are blunt. Everything feels duller and more muddled, save the cold. Before you can comprehend what is going on, you feel yourself falling. You yelp in surprise as you land in freezing cold snow. The voice talks again after you pick yourself up and look at what you have become.
Oh! Goody! More funses to be had! More toyses to play with! Maybe they playses with you?
You hardly hear the voice as you look at your hands in horror. Something has been taken from you. You can tell. You feel less. You were a dragon, but now you are just a human. A human that is doomed to die here in this cold, frozen forest. You start to demand that you be changed back, but the sinister way the voice asks that last question chokes off the words with a sudden fear. You are young for a dragon, and weak for one as well, and it seems that has carried over into your new form. Panic fills you as you imagine what could happen to you if you're found.
You have no choice. You hide and hope that they don't see you. You shiver from the cold and the fear as you wait. The minutes tick past, turning into an hour before you see someone on the other side of the clearing. Your heart leaps up into your chest, but slowly, you see that it is four females of different races and one male half-orc. That is hardly the type of band you fear it is, but what do you do now?
Just as you ask yourself that question, you see one of them look your way, and pull your head back behind the tree you were hiding behind as they call out to you. You close your eyes as you try to think and wonder if maybe asking for help would be as degrading as you think it will be.
===
When you open them again, you're back in the room where you had been enjoying dinner with your host, Kernan, Prince of the Dancing Leaves. At one end of the table sits Emerald, staring straight ahead as tears run down her face. She looks shocked, as if all of those memories and the emotions attached to them have hit her all at once. Silence hangs in the air as the wind moans around the wyldlord's home.
The sun was setting, and Meep's captors were in foul moods. Thistlewing had been gone all day, and every passing minute had only made the trio's attitudes worse. Most of the time, they were content to grumble and growl at each other, but whenever Meep drew their attention, their growing ire found an acceptable target. She'd been roughly handled a few times as the day passed, especially when she'd needed to relieve herself. She shuddered as she started to understand one reason most Avistani didn't want others to see their naked bodies. The looks Grimscar, Gargle, and Higgs had given her reminded her all too much of the looks the goblin dogs and wolves had given her whenever she'd been held above their pens, hungry and feral.
She curled up tight, wondering if she would ever see her home again. After having given up on ever feeling like she was a part of her tribe, it hurt so much more to have found people that accepted her, were even her friends, to finally have a home, only for it to be taken from her. From the way these three talked, she doubted she'd ever see her friends ever again. For that matter, she would likely not live to see the next spring. Before learning from Betzolte and Maidie what books were, before Moon helped her see herself as someone that was pretty and worth knowing, before getting to know Grobradon and his mother, Coldanna, and before meeting Erigga and Ethulfel and everyone else in Kassen that had been kind and accepting of her, she might have welcomed the end and knowing that there was no more hope. Not now, though. Not when she desperately wanted to help her friends, their families, and her new home, her new tribe.
She wanted to live.
The cold wind blew through the cave they'd hidden in all day, making the fire dance and twisting the shadows on the three men's faces to make them appear like leering demons. The fluttering sound of beating wings announced Thistlewing's arrival. The sprite floated before Grimscar, just out of reach of the surly half-orc's hands.
"Where tha 'ells 'ave ye been," Grimscar growled. "I should pluck yer bloody wings for makin' us wait all godsdamned day!"
"Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you," an old, creaky voice full of venom and malice said. "I am fond of him, and I would be cross with anyone that would have the nerve to threaten my dear Thistlewing, much less follow through on said threats." A stooped crone with skin as pale as the moon and a face that looked like a skull stepped into the cave and the light of the fire. Her thin and lank hair fluttered in the breeze, and a tongue as black as pitch licked her lips. Her red eye was larger than the milky black one and spun about like an ill balanced top before stopping and focusing squarely on Grimscar. "I would say that anyone who would do such things to my dear, sweet Thistlewing would not be a wise person," she says, her tone saccharine sweet and a broad smile on her face. Her eyes, however, only held hatred and contempt for the half-orc. The light and warmth in the cave disappeared as the crone's malevolent shadow filled the space and choked them out.
"Wouldn't you agree," she asks Grimscar.
"A-aye, I-I would," he stammered as Meep saw every instinct in his body tell him that his death, should he answer incorrectly, would not be a pleasant one.
"Oh, good. I would hate to be mistaken about something so important," the crone said with a chuckle that twisted the air and scraped unpleasantly on everyone's nerves, save that of the crone and the sprite.
"Enough of these pleasantries," she says as her expression turns serious. "Thistlewing says you've completed your task. Where is she?"
Grimscar stepped out of the way and nodded to the back of the cave where Meep had curled up for most of the day. As the unsettling eyes focused on her, terror gripped her. She tried to push herself back, but with bound hands and feet and a wall of solid stone behind her, she had nowhere to go. Her breathing turned shallow and quick as she felt her doom approaching, an ill-omened doom that would leave nothing of her left.
Meep cowered as the crone loomed over her. One thin-boned hand with gnarled fingers reached down and gripped her chin with surprising strength. She moved Meep's head this way and that to get a better look at her, and Meep could do nothing to resist.
"You were told unspoiled and intact," she growls, her grating voice far more effective at instilling fear than Grimscar's had ever been. "Where did the bruises come from?"
"I-it 'appened when we caught 'er," Grimscar explained. "She kept squimin' while we were tyin' 'er up."
The crone glared at the bruises for a moment longer before turning the glower onto Grimscar.
"Is that all," she asked, her tone promising unspeakable pain for any falsehoods.
"I-it is! R-right lads?! We didn't do nothin' to 'er. 'Onest," Grimscar said while Gargle and Higgs nodded their agreement. The crone glared at them a moment longer before turning back to Meep and smiling as she let go of her chin and petted her head.
"Now, now, young Meep," the crone cooed, "you have nothing to fear from me, so long as you do as I ask." The black-toothed smile did nothing to calm the fear boiling up and threatening to drown all reason and thought in Meep's mind. The crone's eyes gleamed with wicked delight and amusement, a look the young goblin had seen far too many times from other goblins to mistake. She wanted to go home. She wanted to curl up next to Moon and take a nap. She wanted Coldanna and Morg to teach her more about cooking. She wanted to get to know Erigga more and find out how to thank the halfling for standing up for her. She wanted to wake up from this nightmare.
But the nightmare was all too real, and Meep let out a soft cry of panic as the crone's hand snapped down to the front of her coat and lifted her into the air. She started to stuggle, but the crone had already started chanting a spell. Meep fought to keep her eyes open, but soon they fluttered close as she slipped into the dark embrace of unconsciousness.
===
Meep woke with a start some time later. Silken strands had replaced the hempen rope binding her hands and feet, and the familiar weight of her mail shirt was gone. She looked around, seeing trees pass by like she were on a horse again. She wondered what was going on. The ride was far too smooth for her to be on a galloping horse, and as she tried to get her bearings back, she realized whatever she was on was no natural beast at all. It was a spider that could easily spread its legs thirty feet across. She saw her armor and most of her gear in a pile to one side before a wicked-looking sprite flew before her and filled her view.
"Oh good! You're awake," it said in a high-pitched voice. The smile it gave her did nothing to ease the fear that was already building within her. "Now, now. Don't struggle. Ganny would hate to see you hurt."
Liar, she thought, but with the speed they were moving at and their apparent height above the ground, Meep decided it was better to not risk the fall, especially since she doubted she could get free. She closed her eyes and tried not to think about where the old crone, Ganny Black Tongue, she guessed, and this sprite were taking her.
"We're almost there! Why do you want to go back to sleep," the sprite asked.
Meep didn't answer. Why should she? She's as good as dead now anyway. Either Ganny Black Tongue would experiment on her and wind up killing her, or the old crone would hand her over to those she was working with. If she did that, Lugruk was certain to kill her as an example of what disobedience costs. Perhaps she'd get lucky and be able to slit her own throat before then, assuming she had the courage.
"Wake up," the crone hissed in her ear.
Meep blinked as she realized she had fallen asleep. It was late in the night, and she could hear the pounding of drums and the chants of goblins as they prayed for victory over their foes coming from a cave in the side of a rocky hill the spide had stopped next to. The little goblin started to struggle, her legs and arms wriggling as she fought against the bindings, but Ganny Black Tongue slapped her across the face, the sting in her cheek bringing tears to her eyes.
"None of that, now," Ganny Black Tongue scolded. "He wanted you alive, unharmed, and unspoiled. I won't have you hurting yourself trying to escape, at least not until I've handed you to him."
"L-lugruk," Meep asked, the dread she feels now has a name, and her fear is all the sharper for it.
"Chief Lugruk," Ganny Black Tongue corrected. "He's been looking forward to seeing you again, Meep, daughter of Hosskill."
Meep felt terror grip her as she realized her death was close, very close. Lugruk would kill her, he almost had to. He would do it in the most painful way he could think of, too. Her only hope was that her death would be quick. So deep was her despair, she didn't flinch when Ganny Black Tongue caressed her bruised cheeks with her clammy hands and restored them with a chant.
She was going to die.
That was the only thought that went through her head as Ganny Black Tongue picked her up and carried her into the cave. The sound of the chanting grew louder and more frenzied the deeper they went. Guards scurried ahead at the crone's approach, bringing word of Ganny Black Tongue's arrival. Nearing the large chamber where the goblins were gathered, the chanting voices joined as one, shouting one name loudly enough to wake the dead over and over again.
Lugruk.
Silence fell over the gathered goblins as Ganny Black Tongue entered. She held Meep by the back of the neck of her coat and hoisted her high into the air in a display of unnatural strength for such a frail seeming frame. All eyes were on Meep as the gathered Bugwumps recognized her. The Runt. The Unlucky One. The Traitor.
"Chief Lugruk of the Bugwump Tribe, I bring you a gift," the crone called out, pausing for a moment to let the anticipation build. "I bring you Meep, The Traitor!"
Dozens of goblin voices rose up in a hungry shout of glee edges with wicked anticipation. Their reverie was soon quieted as Lugruk stood from his throne.
"A gracious gift, Ganny Black Tongue. I am humbled by your generosity," he said with a bow before turning to two of his guards. "Bring her here," he commanded.
The crowd parted ways and allowed the guards through so they could take Meep from Ganny Black Tongue. They grabbed her arms and carried her to Chief Lugruk as the old crone followed and pulled something from under the many folds and layers of her ragged clothing. Meep hardly noticed anything other than the look that Lugruk was giving her—a hateful, hungry look that promised pain and suffering. The guards dragged her up to the raised section of stone his throne had been set upon and threw her prostrate at their chief's feet.
Meep started to look up, but as soon as she moved, Lugruk put a foot on the back of her head and pressed her face into the ground. Meep clenched her jaw to keep from crying out. Doomed to die she may be, but she would not give Lugruk the satisfaction of hearing her cry out in pain or mewl in fear, she decided.
"Do with her as you see fit, Chief Lugruk," Ganny Black Tongue said over the clinking of glass vials. "But I think you shall find more enjoyment using these."
Meep couldn't hear what the crone whispered in Lugruk's ear, but she did hear the wicked chuckle that turned into uproarous laughter that Lugruk gave when she finished.
"Oh, I would love to see that," Lugruk said after he calmed down, "but it is not my decision. I thought this would be a wonderful present for my mate, Rooshi."
Meep felt her heart quail as she learned who would be deciding her fate. There was no hope, not now. Not with Rooshi. The only question was how much the priestess would humiliate Meep before allowing her to die as painfully as she could manage. That she would die was a given.
She said a silent prayer that whatever happened, it wouldn't drive her friends into a mistake. That was something Kassen could not afford.
Betzolte Ironhame |
Betzolte gives a panicked gasp as she returns to reality, and she gets up and rushes over to Emerald's side.
"I've...I've never been so glad to have been wrong before. What happened to you wasn't your fault...it wasn't your fault at all."
She offers the former dragon a hug.
Really hitting the heartstrings hard with Meep's side of the story, GM! ;.;
DM-Salsa |
Emerald doesn't resist Betzolte when the dwarf pulls her into a hug. The contact does a lot to pull her back to what is going on, though reliving everything has certainly put a toll on her. She sniffles as she tries not to cry. Moon's question draws her attention, and it's clear to see that hope and despair are warring within her in her eyes.
"It did. Felidaan certainly hasn't gotten any better with age," Kernan says as his mouth twists in disgust. He looks to Maidie and Emerald, his expression softening into one of apology.
"There's nothing I can do for either of you at the moment. Emerald's curse is a powerful one. I'm assuming that none of you set foot in that glade. If you had, I'm not sure there is anything I could do to help. The only reason she's not that vile monster's plaything is because she is a dragon. The one he laid upon Maidie isn't as powerful, but it's still strong enough that I would need some time to unravel it, and from what I have heard and seen, time is something you don't have."
He sighs and rubs his eyes.
"If I could fight along side of you, this would be far easier, but I can't. I can, however, give you information, equipment, and aid in other ways. There is another matter that we need to talk about, though, and that's what is going to happen with Emerald."
Maidie Henrod |
"Equipment and information is why we came here. We know that this is our fight, but we assumed - correctly, it seems - that we have a common interest in stopping Ganny Black Tongue from wreaking more havoc and misery." Maidie says, whirring her wings.
"We need to find her and find out where Meep is being kept captive. If she has her hair, we need to know how that might be used against us. And if you can help us travel, it would save us valuable time."
She looks at herself and Emerald.
"The dream sequence was not a total loss. It did not reveal the stolen name, but it did reveal the names of all of Emerald's clutchmates and the general location of her activities for the past many years. You're smart and resourceful, Emerald, and I have no doubt you can use those leads to track down more information."
"As for my current situation, I'll manage for the time being. Being a fairy has as many advantages as disadvantages for someone who wield magic instead of a blade, and I have no doubt I'll be able to reverse the transformation in due time."
DM-Salsa |
At Grobradon's quip, Emerald lets out a snort of laughter.
Going to give the others a chance to reply before Kernan speaks up.
Erigga Ironheart |
So that was pretty weird, Emerald's family feeling alien to her very traditional one, even if she could find some similarities between their siblings. It would be a stretch, though.
As she regains her bearings, Erigga frowns but keeps to herself.
DM-Salsa |
Kernan nods as Maidie states she's happy to keep her currently form. He does look worried however.
"I'll have my subjects keep an eye out for Meep. As for what a caster could do with her hair, there are a number of things. She could change her shape, warp her mind, control her actions, make her see things that aren't what they appear or even there at all, or lay a curse upon her. Probably less useful is finding those that are related to her by blood, but it is something that could be done. Besides using the lock of hair as a scrying focus, I think that's everything that one could do with it that would be a concern."
"As far as travel is concerned, I'll ask some that I know can help. They likely won't be much use in a fight, however. Equipment shouldn't be an issue, though. What we don't have we can make. I only need know what you want. We'll make sure that you're well supplied before you leave."
He hesitates for a moment, the worry more evident in his creased brow.
"Driving Ganny Black Tongue away or even killing her would likely unravel the alliances that have been built up, but it wouldn't be immediately. You would still need to take care of the leaders of the Gruls and the goblins. She'll be a difficult foe to defeat. Not only is she a formidable and hardy spellcaster, she has a knack for surrounding herself with skilled and dangerous allies. If she's calling out to her daughter, then there will be two more hags, at least, that you will have to face in addition to anything and anyone else she can convince to guard her. I mean no disrespect by saying this, but I do not think you are strong enough to face her and prevail, not yet. As much as I would love to see her miserable life snuffed out, I would hate for some or all of you to die in the attempt and not be able to prevent the attack on Kassen."
He sighs as he looks at Maidie.
"I'm sorry, but that is the truth, and she'll do everything she can to wear you do before you can reach her and her coven. You're not the first group she's faced, and she'll do everything she can to make sure you're not the last, either."
Moon Akechi |
Moon wasn’t surprised to learn the hag was beyond their skills to fight. Kernan had spent far too much time building her up. Nevertheless, it was irritating. ”So, we’re back to our original battle plan – kill a lot of goblins, ogres, wolves, spiders, possibly some orcs, and gut the lesser leaders. You said you can equip us… what sort of gear do you mean? Mundane weapons and armor or magical ones? Potions, scrolls, and the like? Rings and cloaks?”
DM-Salsa |
Kernan gives Erigga a wickedly vicious grin that sends chills down everyone's spines.
"Oh needn't worry about him. It is the duty of all Wyldlords to hunt that one down," he says before his expression returns to a more normal smile. "It is one of the reasons that I can't, personally anyway, help you. This one, however, I don't regret much. Removing the stain that is his existence will be a net good for our worlds, both yours and mine."
Betzolte Ironhame |
As put out as Betzolte is that saving Meep would probably have to be more roundabout than she'd wanted, sticking with the original plan and hoping to every god and his mother that Ganny Black Tongue wasn't keeping her in a cage hanging in her witch's hut or whatever sour hole she called home so that maybe, just maybe, Meep could escape on her own or buy enough time for them to grow in strength, she knew there was no point in arguing it. Kernan was right. For all her might, mystical and mundane, she was still nowhere near ready to challenge a would-be Wyldlord.
Especially when an ACTUAL Wyldlord could be so intimidating.
"Sounds like Felidaan is only going to regret what he did to Emerald for a little while...Will there be anything left for Pharasma to judge when you're done?" she murmurs, more to herself than anything else.
DM-Salsa |
"Perhaps," Kernan says. "He was not originally fey, so his soul may go to her for judgement. If not, well," He shrugs. "He will go the Well of Souls to be born anew. Into what, who can say, though in his case, I would guess it is most likely a gremlin."
Maidie Henrod |
"If you estimate that we're not ready to strike directly at Ganny, then we'll heed your advice, Prince Kernan. After all, someone who has survived centuries of malicious dealings, including angering a Linnorm, should not be underestimated. And we will not help Meer or Kassen by dying." Maidie says, struggling to remain hopeful.
"Perhaps it is better to strike at the goblin and Grul leaders as we originally intended?"
Erigga Ironheart |
"I think so." A nod "At least before a certain phase of the Moon hits."
"I personally fight extra mean in that phase of the moon."
Betzolte Ironhame |
"Still, it's best we probably take care of them before that time comes. Fighting extra mean could put you at more risk of getting bitten and becoming a danger to everyone, including yourself," Betzolte replies, remembering Maidie's werewolf nightmare.
She turns back to Emerald.
"What do you wanna do now that we've at least got most of your memories back and assurance that the bastard who did this to you's gonna get what's coming to him?"
DM-Salsa |
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That Night
After the ordeal of learning more about what happened to Emerald, you are shown to the baths, where you can warm up, wash yourselves off, and relax for a little while. When you are ready, you're shown to one of the guest rooms that have been made available for you. The warm beds, full bellies, and long day have you soon fast asleep. The night passes peacefully, though each of you wakes and vaguely remembers an odd dream where a couple of fey took your measurements while asking a variety of questions so quickly you barely have time to answer them.
Just as you are about to lay down and go to sleep, there's a knock at your door. Emerald stands in front of it, looking nervously off to one side.
"I-- I don't want to sleep alone," she says as she rubs her arm and blushes in embarrassment.
The next morning you wake to find that your stack of gear has been added to with a number of new finely made items. After getting dressed, a maid leads you all to a dining hall where Prince Kernan and a young woman that looks a lot like him are waiting for you. Before your host can say a word, the woman hurries up and greets you with the enthusiasm of a knight-mad young boy meeting an actual knight for the first time.
"Oh! Good Morning! I'm Iridellia! My friends call me Delli. Please call me Delli! I've heard so much about you! Are you really from the mortal realm? What's it like? Does your sky really have three moons? I heard that it's made of green cheese! Is that true?"
The torrent of questions and blather is cut off by Kernan loudly clearing his throat.
"Iridellia, at least let our guests get seated and something into their bellies before burying them with questions," he says with all of the patience of an older brother to a younger sibling before turning to all of you and gesturing to the chairs and table laded with all sorts of delicious smelling dishes. "Please," he says graciously, "have a seat and enjoy breakfast. I have some information for you, and we'll be joined by someone who's agreed to help guide you shortly."
As you eat, Prince Kernan lays out what he's been able to learn while you slept. There are numerous groups of goblinoids, orcs, and ogres roaming about the forest, apparently trying to catch anyone unaware that they can. There are a few large gatherings that have begun to break up and surround Kassen, tightening the noose before the full moon, it seems. Thankfully, most of the groups should be within your ability to handle, especially if you can set up an ambush for them. Of particular note are two groups. One is just three men, two humans and a half-orc, camping in a small cave to the west of Kassen. The other is closer, just a short walk south of the grove where you summoned the Prince of Dancing Leaves and crossed over into Prince Kernan's domain. It consists of several goblins, one male and the rest female. While he can't say for certain, Prince Kernan says that those he sent out to look said they appear to be looking for something. As for where Ganny Black Tongue, Pappy Ruhk, and the goblin chiefs are, he cannot say, and he is hesitant to push his subjects' luck in trying to find them.
As he finishes laying out what he knows, Rhia appears and whispers in his ear. He smiles and nods. A moment later, she returns, leading a strange figure that stands perhaps as tall as Maidie, a pile of wild hair with a nose that is as large as a chicken egg sticking out from it.
"Ah, Dofferykin Woodstumpleson. I'm happy you agreed to guide these brave souls," the prince says before being cut off with a wave of a hand and bare arm that appears from under the pile of curly hair that looks to have never seen comb nor brush.
"Aye, aye. I agree, yer highness," he says, adding the honorific with a tone of resignation and resentment after receiving a glare from Rhia. "Now who are you, ye lot of too tall folk," he asks brusquely.
The party as a whole receives:
- a Campfire Stone: This magic stone creates a campfire and a ring of stones around it when placed on the ground and the command word is spoken. The fire can be hidden underground if desired but is only half as effective at combating cold weather. The intensity of the fire can be adjusted for cooking, though the fire cannot make things more than a comfortable temperature nearby. The campfire reverts to a stone when the command word is spoken again.
- The Forest King's Lodge: This enchanted tent is the size of a small tent from the outside and only takes five minutes to set up. Inside it is a pavilion tent with enough room for up to ten medium creatures to sleep comfortably. In addition to the area in the center for a campfire, the tent also boasts a bath and a small portable kitchen that is always fully stocked with herbs, spices, and other staples, such as rice, flour, vinegars, sauces, etc. While one could make a meal out of what's available, it would hardly be a satisfying one.
- 2 Potions of Lesser Restoration
- 2 Potions of Cure Serious Wounds
- 6 Potions of Cure Moderate Wounds
- 1 fully charged Wand of Cure Light Wounds
Everyone receives the following:
- 1 Courtier's Outfit worth about 50 gp with 75 gp of jewelry
- 1 Explorer's Outfit worth about 30 gp
- 1 Cold Weather Outfit worth 30 gp I think some of you have one already, but just in case, everyone should have one now. And these are much fancier.
- 1 Handy Haversack
- 1 silver bell that can be used once to contact Prince Kernan
Betzolte - Your dwarven waraxe is now a flaming dwarven waraxe.
Erigga - Your masterwork khukri is now an acid khukri.
Grobradon - You now have thundering quarterstaff.
Maidie - You now have a wand of magic missile (CL 5th, 50 charges), 3 new outfits (1 artisan's outfit and 2 explorer's outfits) in your new size, and a Fairy Hat.
Fairy Hat
This whimsically styled hat allows its wearer to cast invisibility at will. However, there is a 5% chance of a side effect occurring whenever it is used. Each use per day increases the chance by 5%. (I'll post the chart I'll use for the effects whenever I figure that out in the Campaign Info Tab.)
Moon - Your elven curve blade is now a shocking elven curve blade.
Lugruk's guards carried her deeper into the caves that the most recent chief of the Bugwump tribe had set up his warcamp in. They led their leader, who grinned with wicked delight as he watched Meep shivering, deeper into the cavern. She'd started to struggle when they first picked her up, but after getting the breath knocked from her lungs and hearing the vile promise of what Lugruk would allow them to do to her if she fought back, it was enough to cow her. She was too weak to break free; she knew she was, but fighting back at least let her hang onto enough hope to keep from crumbling from the inside. Now, though, she didn't know how much longer she could maintain her brittle composure. Little by little, she could feel it cracking and falling away.
They hauled her over to one of the larger side chambers that had been set aside for Lugruk's growing harem. The sickly sweet perfume that the goblins preferred hung thick in the air, a noxious vapor that made her stomach twist and curl. Her eyes watered as she fought to hold whatever was sloshing around in her belly down. The sickening stench only grew stronger when the once fine and now ragged curtains were pulled open and the small entourage was led inside. Meep blinked away the tears caused by the burning of the inside of her nose from the caustic aromas filling the air as the curtain was left to fall back and seal off the room again.
No sooner had she begun to orient herself, the guards threw her to the ground. The hard landing again knocked the wind from her lungs, and before she could recover, Lugruk pinned her down with one boot in the center of her back. A part of her, the part that could still feel anger, raged at the thought of this goblin ruining and dirtying her clothes, the clothes that Moon, Dimira, and Agatha had so kindly given to her. That part of her was crushed as Lugruk pressed down until she cried out in pain.
"Rooshi, my queen," Lugruk called out. "I come with a gift."
Rooshi came from an area walled off by another curtain made of layers of crudely patched velvet and mismatched beads. She looked hungrily at Lugruk before seeing Meep. An eyebrow rose in confusion as she turned her attention back to her mate.
"And what gift might that be, my dear and gracious chief," she asked. A few more goblin women poked their heads out from behind the curtain, curious as to what was going on. Seeing Meep, they looked to Lugruk to learn what was happening.
"A toy to play with," Lugruk answered as he pressed down harder, forcing another pained gasp from Meep. Rooshi's eyes sparkled with malevolent glee as she grinned widely at the goblin chief as he pulled out one of the vials Ganny Black Tongue had given him.
"This should make things even more fun," he said as he handed it over to Rooshi. "Make her drink it."
The priestess grinned and looked down at Meep before calling out to the rest of Lugruk's harem.
"Come on out girls! We have something fun to do tonight," she tells them as half a dozen goblin women come out from behind the curtain. "Grab the traitor. I don't want her getting herself killed just yet."
Meep tried to struggle again, but there were too many, and she had never been all that strong. They haul her up to her knees and painfully twist their fingers into her frazzled hair. She tried to keep her mouth closed, but Lugruk forced it open for Rooshi to pour the vial's contents down her throat. The liquid burned as it went down, making Meep cough. As it settled in her belly, she could feel her limbs growing heavier and every sensation on her skin becoming sharper. She felt as if she were freezing and on fire all at once. Her sense of touch had become much more acute even as she grew weaker. She could hardly lift her head after the coughing fit had passed.
"Oh! These are pretty," one of the harem girls said as she picked up the ends of Meep's ribbons. "Too pretty for a traitor," she laughed before painfully tearing them from Meep's hair.
"Her boots are nicer than mine!"
"I want her coat!"
"Why does she have such nice clothes?"
Greedy hands stripped Meep of everything and made her cry out whenever she struggled or started to protest. Everything turned into a blur of pain and humiliation as Lugruk's harem played with their victim. Meep tried to shut them out, tried to find some refuge where she could hide, but she couldn't think, couldn't pull herself free of what was going on. She lost all sense of time as they beat her and bullied her; the pain made all the worse by Ganny Black Tongue's potion. How long that nightmare lasted, Meep would never know.
She came to her senses, weeping as she lay curled up on the ground. Her blood was hot on her bruised skin and splattered over the stone floor of the harem chamber. Rough hands pulled her to her knees by her hair, and she shivered as a cold draft flowed through the chamber. She didn't have the strength to even cry out in pain any more as it lanced through her body like lightning. She saw Rooshi uncorking another vial, and some instinct told her this one was much, much worse than the last one. Fear took hold as she heard Rooshi chanting.
"Serve me now, on traitorous daughter. Serve me and guard my life with your own, Meep Hearthseeker," the priestess said before pouring the contents of the second vial Ganny Black Tongue Had handed over to Lugruk down Meep's throat.
Pain unlike anything Meep had ever experienced wracked the small goblin as her flesh boiled and twisted. Her bones cracked and grew as she found the strength to scream from the white-hot agony she felt all over her, just as she lost all sense of self and knew no more as the mad, gleeful laughter of goblins washed over her.