Dashki - NPC's page

Zhalet gestures toward the bridge. ”Will you walk with me for a bit Dashki?”

As they begin to walk, (assuming he agrees) Zhalet says to him ”I am so very sorry for what happened in there. I want you to know that Alexander does not speak for all of us, or perhaps even most of us, on the question of aid from the Three Jaws, or you.”

”As you know now, Alexander is gruff and does not bother much with niceties when speaking. Remember that only a short time earlier he and Andrus exchanged sharp words as well. You brought an offer of aid. He attacked your offer unfairly, demanding you prove things that cannot be proven. You are the wronged party Dashki, and I apologize.”

”I would have preferred to accept the offer from the Three Jaws. I do not doubt their bravery or skill, and they offered help that would have been very valuable. But I think we have passed the time when that is possible. To join together in retaking Kelmarane would require a degree of trust between us and the Three Jaws that is no longer attainable. We cannot cooperate if each of us is trying to anticipate the moment when one will turn on the other. “

”Both you and Alexander have seen great cruelty in your past. In that way, you are like brothers. Certainly you don’t share brotherly affection, but the link is still there. The cruelties you have both seen have sparked an anger in you both that cannot be put aside. I do not say this as an accusation, nor do I judge either of you for it. It is what it is, and I am in no position to comment.”

”Alexander will never trust the Three Jaws enough to accept their offer. You understand why. The Three Jaws cannot trust us either, not only because of Alexander, but also Andrus and Filliped, perhaps others. When Kelmarane is taken, what then? I for one do not wish to see more blood spilled at that point. I hope you feel the same way.”

When they reach the bridge Zhalet stops.

”There, that should be far enough. By the time I return to...

Dashki seems like he will refuse, but after a moment he gives a sharp nod and falls into step with Zhalet. He does keep some distance from her, though, making it impossible to speak quietly.

Once they reach the bridge, he stops with Zhalet and listens to the last of her words, and much of the anger seems to have faded within him, "I will tell Narg your words, Zhalet. I do not wish to fight against you either, and though I would happily fight with Alexander right now, I have no desire to slay him. I cannot predict how NArg will react, but I will do what I can to stave off bloodshed."

With that he turns and heads out of Kelmarane at a loping run, moving surprisingly similarly to a gnoll, now that the connection has been pointed out.

Dashki looks at Solomon, ignoring both Kilarra and Alexander, "Yes, lets take a step back from this..." With that he turns and stalks out the stable door, turning left and heading out of town.

Dashki simply looks at Alexander's hand, and for a moment it seems like you may have gotten through to him. But the expression on his face hardens, he steps back putting the open stable doors at his back, and his angry voice rings in the quiet stable, "None of you know what you are talking about! You don't know me! If you wish to spurn the aid of the Three Jaws, then so be it. I will convey to them your decision. But Dashki will no longer aid you!"

Dashki pales slightly as Alexander finishes his story and issues his threat. Though none was explicitly stated, Dashki heard it there.

He takes a deep breath and begins to speak, his voice quiet, "Gnolls killed my mother and grandfather when I was a young boy. They put fire to our village and slew hundreds. Somehow I escaped with my father to the town of Solku, not far from here. It was a long time ago, and I’ve forgotten most of what I saw. Terrible things. But I find it’s the sounds that stay with me. The shrill howls and barks—hundreds of them at once—that sounded deliriously close to an audience. Laughing at us."

"Father raised me to know everything about the gnolls, their customs, their language. So as better to track them down and wipe them out. All of them. Together we scouted out their lairs, studied their tribes, listened to them speak until we could understand what they were saying. They’re not dumb animals, you know. Not like you might think. In some ways they’re even smarter than us."

Dashki's voice is barely above a whisper as he continues, "Dad didn’t survive our first raid on a gnoll camp of the Three Jaws tribe. I saw them fall on him like hyenas on an abandoned kill, slathering themselves in his blood and innards. I can still hear the tearing of his flesh and the sound of his bones against frenzied teeth. Against this scene I was forgotten. Ignored."

Dashki takes a breath as if to speak, then pauses and lets it out. He looks around at all assembled, then seems to nod to himself and continues speaking in nearly a monotone, "Ignored for only as long as it took for the beasts to devour my father. I tried to escape while they feasted, but they chased me and caught me. I expected to be dessert. Though I spoke their language, and could understand their words long before this time, I have no knowledge of what they said as they stood over me while I trembled in my fear."

While he speak, Dashki's hands move absently to pluck a few stands of thread hanging from his clothing. With the automatic motions of a nervous tic, they begin to weave the threads into something. His voice continues in its monotone as his hands twist, weave, and tie, "I was taken to the camp of the Three Jaws tribe and tossed in among a pack of their own pups. I expected to be devoured by the young gnolls, but one of the adults spoke: 'Your new brother', it said, 'teach him'."

Both his voice and his hands are still for a few moments as he stares into nothing. His eyes snap to his hands and he drops the threads he was weaving, and a half tied poppet falls to the stable floor. His voice shakes a little as he continues, but evens out into the monotone with which he has related the whole tale thus far, "They treated me like one of their own pups. I was given raw meat to eat, and was forced to defend my meat against the other pups if I wanted anything to eat at all. I was trained like they were, pitted against the other pups in 'mock' games of stalking, hide and beat, and 'fake' combats. I was smaller, weaker, and lacking the natural weapons the gnoll pups were born with. I will not dwell on the years of cruelty, abuse, and humiliation. I was forced to give up my humanity to survive. I became as they were in all but body."

He turns away from the others, staring past Andrus out the stable doors, and his voice shakes again with pent up emotions, "I embraced my savagery to survive. I became like them. I became one of them." Relaxing once more with a few deep, measured breaths, he continues in a monotone, "Then they cast me out saying I must now learn to reclaim my humanity. I did as they asked, desperate to regain what little of their trust and companionship I had for I found that I craved it as I had wanted nothing else in this life. I became Dashki once more. But they never came back for me. I took to working as a scout, a guide to whoever would pay. That is how I met Lady Almah, and how I came to this point."

He turns back to Alexander, "There, you have my story. A story I have told to no other living creature. They are horrible and cruel, but the Three Jaws are all the family I have. Accept the alliance or do not, I care not one way or the other, but I will not fight the Three Jaws. I will happily kill any other gnolls, but I will not fight my family. Are the Three Jaws responsible for the death of your brother? I do not know." A look seeps into his eyes that is very difficult to read, "But I find it unlikely. For, you see, his body was recovered. The Three Jaws do not waste food."

Dashki nods, "Something like that might work. But let me advise you: do not simply lay a trail of it. Only the most absolutely simple-minded gnolls would follow a trail of bread crumbs. Put it where it cannot be seen easily, and if you can, make it sparkle just when the last gnoll in a group can see it. That way he has motivation and opportunity to separate from the group quietly and rejoin after collecting his find."

"Gnolls covet anything that is valuable, or that might make them more powerful, but not well known for going off alone to obtain some new trinket or weapon. It might work, but it might not. As for patrols, Gnolls cannot be described as highly disciplined. They may be roughly on a schedule or assigned route, but do not count on regularity. If my experience with Gnolls is any guide, their patrol instructions will be more along the lines of 'the lower market after breakfast' or something like that."

Dashki shrugs, "Alone and outnumbered, Gnolls can be cowards; you might be able to bully one into surrendering. Otherwise, hit it really hard until it stops being awake. The isolate part is the hard part. They do not like to not be part of a group. Your best bet is to ambush a small group and leave one alive."

Dashki perks up with interest, "Scouting closer to Kelmarane, eh? Well, gnolls mostly hunt by sight. Some can track by scent, but those are pretty rare. Stay downwind just in case, and if you want to take a patrol out, do it swiftly. As you hear last night, they can howl pretty loudly. If a patrol howls an alarm, others might come. But they are unruly at best and might ignore a howl of alarm. If a patrol goes missing, they will likely assume desertion unless it is a lot of them, so feel free to slaughter the Kulldis bastards."

When you find Dashki, he is sitting in the shadows of the ruined nave looking out over Kelmarane. He looks up at your approach, "Morning."

Dashki shudders, then seems to steel his nerve, "I am going to go help them; by all the gods of my people, I hate pugwampis."

Dashki begins carefully picking his way through the cacti.

Acrobatics DC 15 (check #1): 1d20 ⇒ 141d20 ⇒ 13: 13 + 7 = 20.
Acrobatics DC 15 (check #2): 1d20 ⇒ 11d20 ⇒ 7: 1 + 7 = 8.
Damage from Cactus: 1d3 ⇒ 2.
Acrobatics DC 15 (check #3): 1d20 ⇒ 91d20 ⇒ 16: 9 + 7 = 16.

Once he stumbles straight into the open arms of a catis and yelps in pain, but otherwise is able to pick his way through safely.

This takes him some small amount of time and he will not arrive in time to affect the outcome of the current goat-caused mayhem.

Dashki grimaces, "Puwampis are very small. About the size of a cat. They are also very good at hiding. They have no particular weaknesses of which I am aware. I, for one, do not relish the thought of blundering about in the darkness out there, unable to see. If you could conjure light that would be better than torch light."

As she is about to head out she realizes the sincerity of Dashki's warning and decides to head out with the others. In addition she will do her best to go undected while out and about as well. If they are anything like Dashki's description then they are likely not going to meet them head on, stealth may be the only way to catch one.

Dashki looks ready to follow you into the dark, but glances around at the others to see if any of them are going.

"What is a pugwampis?"

Dashki looks as though he is about to reply when

Erizi comes storming back into camp breathing hard from the exhertion. "Something laughed at me out there! I swear, I was looking around for Rombard, and heard something laugh! I bet whatever it was is responsible for the trouble!"

Before Kilarra leaves the camp, Dashki nods more confidently, "A pugwampi. Some pugwampis. They are far from adorable, though. I am sure of it. It must be pugwampis. They are terrible critters what crawled up from the Darklands below the earth. ‘Jackal rats,’ some folks call ’em, on account of their pointed little heads. They worship gnolls as gods and infest their communities like rats. Wherever pugwampis go, bad luck is sure to follow. The gnolls hate pugwampis because of it, and try to kill them all the time. But they always come back. Perhaps their bad luck caused the fortune-man’s candles to start a fire? Yes, pugwampis. I am certain it was pugwampis.” He looks closely at Kilarra, "If you go hunting Pugwampis, you are going to run into bad luck. Best to go in numbers. Especially in the dark."

None of you have heard of such a creature, nor does the description sound like one you know.

With a light smile Kilarra takes Dashki's sudden defense in stride. You are absolutely correct. However, if I or my companions were the type to simply take what others have to say and pass judgement then I would not have taken the time to get to know you better. I am glad that I have and I hope that you will continue to talk with me in the future. I have not deceived you...I am and continue to be genuinely interested and yes part of that is to try and learn the truth of what happened but the other part is because you seem a person worth getting to know. If left up to those in the camp that did not just arrive I would say you are also correct to assume that they would likely blame you. I am not interested in who is liked or not, believe it or not I was orphaned at a young age and grew up an outcast so I know what it is like to be an outsider. In the end, right now I am interested in what really happened and do I need to worry about it happening again so that I can protect my friends." Kilarra places a hand on Dashki's forearm. "I am a very discerning lady and know how to keep secrets. Won't you please tell me what it is you know?"

Dashki continues to become more defensive, his voice rising in volume, "I don't know what happened! There was no fire, then there was a fire! Since you are so focused on me, I can only assume everyone else has a good alibi!" He stands up abruptly, shaking Kilarra's hand off, "Since I didn't do it, it must have been bad luck! The pugwampis must be the reason. He always had candles burning, if one was nearby, they could have easily started the wagon on fire!"

"It is a valid question to ask if this was merely and accident. Is there any evidence that the fire could have happened inadvertently? Additionally, If we really want to be thorough, while it may be socially unacceptable to do so, I think we should also question Lady Almah. However, before we do I wish to know what it is Dashki is hiding. Would the rest of you casually keep an eye on me while I go and question him further?"

Kilarra then proceeds over to talk with Dashki and sits down with him so as to be less threatening and takes some time to get to know him. Asking him about where he is from and just talking to him about how impressed she is with Lady Almah and the whole expedition. How I am sad to have arrived at such a hard time for the caravan. I will allow him to talk about whatever he wants to and follow the conversation in the direction he takes it. I will even get out some food explaining that we had not eated yet on the road and then proceed to offer him some as well.

there is no deceit on my part so no bluff check, I am genuinely interested in getting to know who he is and what he is about

Given enough time he should begin to relax. When I feel that some sort of connection or common ground has been established I will bring the conversation back around to the questions from earlier saying something to the effect of "Dashki, earlier when we were talking I felt like there was more that you know that you did not share. If there is anything you could add it would help. If you are concerned that I may share it with the others you have my word that I will not tell anyone what you have to say." this is also true

Dashki seems to settle down when faced with a friendly, good-looking, exotic woman, and opens up a bit, “Almah hired me about a month ago to tell her all about the gnolls living in these hills. Gnolls killed my mother and grandfather when I was a boy. They put fire to our village and slew hundreds. Somehow I escaped with my father to the town of Solku, not far from here. It was a long time

His voice has gotten a little distant, as if his mind is not really in the present, "Father raised me to know everything about the gnolls, their customs, their language. So as better to track them down and wipe them out. All of them. Together we scouted out their lairs, studied their tribes, listened to them speak until we could understand what they were saying. They’re not dumb animals, you know. Not like you might think. In some ways they’re even smarter than us."

He pauses to accept a little food and takes a drink from a small flask, holding it out to you in exchange. A bitter note enters his voice as he continues, “Dad didn’t survive our first raid on a gnoll camp of the Three Jaws tribe. I saw them fall on him like hyenas on an abandoned kill, slathering themselves in his blood and innards. I can still hear the tear of his scalp and the sound
of his bones against frenzied teeth. Against this scene I was forgotten. Ignored."

He pauses for a moment, shaking off the memories. His voice is toneless as he finishes his tale, "I escaped, and I carry on the work of my father.”

His eyes focus on you suddenly, with a strangely disconcerting intensity, "I am not stupid either, you know. I know you have been interviewing us all to find out 'who did it'. No one here much likes me, and I am sure they are all insinuating or accusing me. It is true I did not like Eloais. It is true I was jealous of the attention he received from Almah. But I had nothing to do with his death. Nothing! How do we even know the fire was set? That idiot burned a hundred candles in his wagon. Perhaps he just got unlucky. We’re in gnoll country. It was probably pugwampis. I may be a little too fond of Almah, but I had nothing to do with Eloais' death!"

"I doubt this crystal you mention was much shakes, bit the Harrow is real. And dangerous in the wrong hands," Alexander says.

Slowly, the old man raises a balled fist, a signet ring on his middle finger sparkling in the light of the magic orbs. "As for the Gnolls... Should you ever spot one with a ring identical to this one in its possession, I would appreciate your telling me. I would appreciate it in gold."

Dashki looks closely at your ring and smiles grimly, an expression that looks downright sinister on his unwashed face, "I will certainly keep an eye out for it."

Zhalet replies "Ah! Dinner! We were hoping we would arrive in time for some. But, we only got this instead." She gestures toward the burning wagon.

"What did you have for dinner?"

I'd like to shoehorn this in between Dashki's reply and the start of Alexander's conversation with Dashki for the sake of continuity. After Dashki tells her, or not I guess..

"Anything at all sounds good right now. I think I will go see what I can find."

Zhalet bids the two men goodbye and wanders over to the campfire to see what was prepared, and if it matches Dashki's answer.

Dashki looks intently at Zhalet, and his attitude turns surly, "Not that it matters, but I had some stew and a chuck of bread."

Dashki watches you leave with narrowed eyes and does not respond to your farewell.

"My interest is easily explained," Alexander says. "I intend to start a collection. Now, the fortune-teller... Was he merely a charlatan, or did he have any genuine powers?"

Dashki smiles grimly, "Have a bone to pick with the Gnolls? Or are you just after the bounties? As to Eloais, the princess says he is the real thing, but I never seen him do nothin' real. He just look at his crystal ball and make wise noises, and play with his funny cards and make more 'educated' sounds."

Sense motive 1d20+1

"Gnolls," Alexander says in a musing tone, index finger tapping the head of his cane. "Apologies, but I am going to question you a bit. Are there any gnoll packs hereabouts? Any with strong magic or alchemical lore? Did you know the fortune-teller well? Any enemies - or indeed, a lamentable tendency to fall asleep with the candles still burning?"

Dashki looks at Alexander, "Yes, there are many gnolls in this region. Many. You have the Al'Choraiv, The Cirlce, Three Jaws, and Wormhollow. They are the major tribes in the region, but there are many others. Why are you so curious about gnolls? I do not personally know of any that have strong magic, but there are always rumors." He turns to consider the ruined wagon, and his voice holds hints of contempt when he speaks of the deceased, "Eloais had no enemies that I know of. He was very skilled in telling people what they wished to hear most of the time and seemed well-liked. I know nothing of his sleeping tendencies."

Perception 1d20+1

Alexander mutters a Word, which causes three swirling, coruscating orbs of light to pop out of empty air above his head.

"Is there something you wish to say?" he asks as he slowly starts to limp towards the unkempt man.

Ready action to draw my sword if he gets hostile. Diplomacy 1d20+2

The man flinches when the lights appear over his head, but recovers himself quickly. His hair is unclean and ragged, his clothing ill-fitting and filthy, and he props himself up on a gnarled staff. When Alexander speaks he smiles hesitantly. It seems he might speak, but he stops when Zhalet approaches.

Zhalet's cheeks redden slightly with embarrassment. Her question has poorly worded. She had not meant to ask Garavel to interpret the card, merely why the cards were floating about. Now she appeared daft.

Her questions was answered though. They belonged to Eloais.

She decides to speak with the man who is watching them, and walks over to where he stands. "Good evening to you Sir, may I ask you about what you saw of the fire?"

[dice=diplomacy]1d20 + 4

As you both approach the man, the most significant thing you notice is the powerful smell of unwashed human. He ducks his head in a short bow to Zhalet and Alexander, " Good evening, young miss. I am Dashki, guide and hunter of gnolls. I am sorry, I do not know anything about the fire. The first I knew of it was when the fortune teller's wagon was simply aflame. I was finishing my dinner over by the campfire when the fire was noticed."