Fair enough. I had a lot of fun with Eskra and Caregeorn as well, but IRL comes first. Take care of yourself!
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”Killed him dead. Long overdue, as far as I’m concerned.”
Eskra looks the man in the eye. Their tone is casual, almost conversational, but the razor edge beneath it is plainly detectable, "Listen, old-timer. We can throw you right back in that cellar if we want, so you're lucky we don't. Now, do you wanna behave and treat your saviors with some respect, or do you want to go back to that cellar you came from?"
Eskra tries to assess what might be good at impressing Jaethal, but can't get a read on the uncanny elf.
Not one to give up too easily, Eskra keeps on studying her. It goes a little better, but still not well by any stretch of the imagination.
Eskra nods, ”Name’s Eskra. You two are in luck…” They reach to their side, producing the jug of moonshine they’ve been nursing the past few days. ”If a drink’s your request, then consider it granted.”
They nod over to Carageorn, sending a glance that says, ”Introduce yourself, big guy.”
Eskra nods, ”I’m game to hit the road whenever. Can’t say I mind the vagabond life, but gods will a bath and a bed do me wonders.” They do a once-over of the fort, returning with a few jugs of moonshine and a large cured ham, ”Gonna be a long trip, might as well enjoy it.”
Eskra and Carageorn survey the bandits together. The human looks up at their fey companion, "So, Carageorn, any of them seem fit to be squires? I'm fine with having any of them as henchmen, but I figure I'll give you first pick."
Eskra smiles broadly, ”Well, I suppose you’re right on one front. At least for myself, I have a purpose, but having fulfilled a major goal along the way to that, I fully intend to drink myself into a stupor to celebrate. But yeah, not bandits, though I can’t say we’re the straight and narrow types either.”
Eskra nods to Sarea, ”Kinda sorta, best as I understand we have a charter from Restov. If we were able to take out the Stag Lord and his toadies, which turned out pretty easy, they’d make good on the charter and help us get some sort of kingdom off the ground.”
Both Eskra and Carageorn power through the worst of the fear. Owlbears are frightening, but Carageorn's bluster that he's more frightening still helps the both of them stand fast. Eskra moves to get a better angle on the two remaining foes, letting Carageorn seize the moment.
Eskra takes a moment to focus. With the Stag Lord dead and their tale of Carageorn concluded, all that was left was the mop-up. Reaching out to their bond with the fey warrior, they focus on protecting him from harm.
Eskra begins spinning a tale of Carageorn's great and mighty deeds, "And so, in the grim and ancient days when the tyrant stag still ruled the Greenwoods, did brave and noble Carageorn appear to slay him, at his ide noble hounds and hunting-mates aplenty!" As they speak, faint sounds of barking dogs and bugling horns can be heard in the room. They then place a hand on Carageorn's shoulder, "Get the bastard." Carageorn's blades then begin to glow with shifting green light.
Eskrar mutters, [b]”Alright Carageorn, let’s get us that kingdom.”[/ooc] With that, they begin to conjure forth their fey companion.
Eskra shrugs, "May as well be now."
Eskra goes to find Topper Red. A rogue with pretentions of heroism, exactly the type of person they could play like a fiddle.
They shrug, "Figured I did by saying that gender and all that nonsense didn't matter to me, but it's water under the bridge." Eskra gives a sharp look to Carageorn, who huffs and strides off. They then lean in to Sarea, saying softly, "Don't worry 'bout Carageorn. He's prickly to strangers, all the more so to folks who he thinks have infringed on my honor. We're...how should I put it, we're bound by soul. What he thinks is a slight to me, well, it's a slight to him too. I've got my own more subtle ways of dealing with things but Carageorn's pretty single-tracked. If something can't be solved by the application of blade or bluster, it's out of his conception. Don't know how familiar you are with the fey, but they've got no tether to their emotions, no half-measures. It's all or nothing and it changes on a whim." Eskra straightens their collar, "Sorry about the rocky start. I'll make sure Carageorn knows there's no bad blood."
Eskra gives Carageorn a solid whack on the shoulder, ”Lay off her, you damn lun! It was an honest mistake.” Oddly, they wince slightly as they hit Carageorn, as if it affected both of them.
They shrug, "Truth be told, never thought about it much. The whole concept of it...well, never mattered to me. Might be polite where you're from, but out here, we live and let live." They raise their eyebrows, "You want to meet Carageorn? Fine, let me see if I can rouse him." The vine shaped birth-mark on their arm glows with soft green light and a hazy outline of a humanoid form comes into being beside them. Stepping out of it is a tall, somewhat human figure, horns protruding from his forehead and gossamer wings from his shoulders.
Eskra nods, "Well, afternoon then, Sarea. Name's Eskra. Got a big fey fella who hangs around me most of the time named Carageorn. You might meet him. For all you know, we might be worse bandits than the Stag Lord?" They laugh, "I'm kidding, we aren't, don't worry." A few moments pass and their face grows serious, "Unless I'm not kidding, hard for you to know." A few more..... "Nah, I am kidding."
Having dismissed Carageorn for the time being, Eskra plays along with the ruse of being bandits. They give the bandits a quizzical look, ”New recruits? That’s really what you think we are. Nidintu there was slitting throats and taking coin back when your granddaddy was still staining his trousers brown. Nah, we’re some tough bastards, come north at the request of the Stag Lord to whip all the incompetent bastards that call themselves bandits into shape. Now here’s the deal I can give you. Hand over your prisoner, we take both to the Stag Lord ourselves. In return, when we start training you louts, we’ll go easy on you.”
Eskra shrugs to Nidintu, "No, idea, what?"
Eskra grins and shakes their head, ”Nah, won’t be me. It’ll be Carageorn, sure as sunrise. Terms of our agreement, bound in soul. I’m to return him his royal destiny, to do all in my power to make him a king. That just means he’ll be the mayor, ruler, whatnot on paper. He doesn’t wanr to rule, just wants the title.” They take a moment to inspect their nails, acting nonchalant as possible, ”I, however, want the opposite. Damn the titles, I want the power, not a whit of the pomp. Carageorn will be the Lord-Mayor, what have you, and I will be his humble Seneschal, ruling from the shadows as an indispensable attendant to Carageorn’s magnanimous leadership.”
Eskra shrugs, "Sure, just don't go trying to preach to me. I'm quite happy with my lack of gods or masters."
Eskra smirks, "Yeah, we plan on associating our blades with his neck." Carageorn reaches down to give Eskra a quick high give before they continue, "Name's Eskra. Big horned fellow beside me is Carageorn. As far as profession goes, hell, I've never really had one. Didn't really need one, long as there were rubes out there willing to part with coin."
As the bear's claws rake into Carageorn, the very same wounds appear on Eskra, wounds rent by phantasmal force. They stumble, clearly badly injured, but they hang on by a thread. Tristian's healing patches up the worst of the damage, however. They motion to Carageorn and then to the pool, and the fey warrior beelines over to it.
The blessed water takes care of the rest, and Eskra takes a deep breath, "Damn that was close. Big bastard nearly had us down. Good on you for showing him what's what Nidintu."
Eskra begins to spin a tale of Carageorn’s heroics, magic coursing through the air as they inspire his heroics and ward him against danger, ”And lo, as he rambled the green woods wild, did the great bear of the Seething Thicket assail him, jealous of his whimsy and fire!”
Figuring there's enough fey nonsense going on, Eskra gives the two fey a nod. Not their farm, not their donkeys. Or something like that.
I could make good use of that! I can apply it to some handwraps or my crossbow and it’ll apply to Carageorn’s attacks as well.
Eskra gives him a slightly concerned look, ”A guardian? What kind?”
Eskra takes a look at the strange happenings and shrugs, "Eh, no idea. The woods do odd things sometimes, no point dwelling on it."
Eskra shrugs as he walks off, "He'll tire himself out eventually."
Eskra takes a long swig, surprisingly long even given their slim frame, ”Eh, weaker than the hooch my pops made. As for meat on my bones, don’t need it. Carageorn’s the muscle of our little operation, I’m the charm.” They get an odd look on their face, "Speaking of him, damn, he's getting antsy. Give me a minute." The vinelike birthmark on their arm glows with a greenish light and Carageorn appears beside them.
Eskra surveys the assembled company before heading over to Kressle and Amiri. Linzi and Valerie were a bit too goody-goody and stick-up-the-rear, respectively, for Eskra's taste, but the two warrior women felt more in line with Eskra's outlook and preferred company. They have a slim smile as they approach the two of them, "So, ladies, what does a wandering con artist turned aspiring monarch like myself need to do to get a stiff drink around here?"
Despite not wanting to be seperated from their trusty companion, Eskra sends Carageorn back to his strange limbo-space where he waits when he isn't summoned. They didn't know how he might act in a tense moment like this, and decided not to take any chances.
Eskra raises an eyebrow at Oleg. They take a deep breath before they begin to speak, "I understand your anger. I've grown up on the edges of the Stolen Lands, and I'm well acquainted with the scourge that the bandits pose. But look at it this way, Kressle here is a part of the whole...bandit hierarchy, let's say. If we killed her, sure, it'd be one less bandit. But she's alive, and on our side. The intel she's got about the bandits, the fact that they still see her as one of their own, well, that's a whole lot more valuable. I understand you want justice, but the best justice will be seeing the Stag Lord dead. Kressle will help with that."
They then take a look over at Kesten Garess, "Think I've heard of you. Mercenary, right?"
I like that idea.
Eskra shrugs, "No idea. Don't think I've known what day it was for, hell, a long damn time until you said so. I've been through nineteen winters I can remember, probably a few I can't, and that's all that truly matters to me."
Eskra heads forward and begins spinning a tale of Carageorn’s long-lost and possibly fictional heroics, ”And so, in ancient days, as brave Carageorn delved in the bones of the earth, did he come across a dragon, wretched and cruel! With unfading valor did his blades slice and dice and snicker-snack!”
Eskra runs their hand along Carageorn's longer knife, "Alright, friend. Show them what we're made of." As they speak the words, their hand pulses with magical energy that drains into the knife. The patterns of twisting thorny vines blaze to life with shifting green light.
Eskra gives a smile and a nod to Nakpik, "Well, good day Nakpik. I am Eskra, that there is Carageorn. The two of us, and the rest of this gaggle of misfits, are the Wildwood Band."
Eskra nods, ”Sure, why not? Carageorn and I wouldn’t mind taking a load off.” They spend the 20 minutes playing cards with Carageorn, though the game seems to consist mostly of bickering, magical tricks, and accusations of cheating. Only a few hands of cards actually get played.
Eskra gives Amiri a broad smile, "My, my, all by yourself? Well done."
Eskra, too, examines the eggs but doesn't parse much more than Xavin.
Eskra feels a tug at their psyche. Carageorn, as always, with a wordless phrase that translates in their mind as, "Hold up, I got this." Doubtless his phrasing would have been more wordy, but Eskra smirks nonetheless. They murmur a few words in Sylvan and a glowing shield spins into being in front of Carageorn.
Eskra heads over to Roots. Though only Carageorn was wounded in the fight, it seems the fey warrior's wounds are mirrored on Eskra's body. "Oy, Roots, we're hurt too. Mind patching us up?"
Eskra tries to hurl a bolt of fire at the leader of the mites but can't quite connect with it.
Eskra focuses for a moment, channeling more of their willpower into bolstering Carageorn’s offensive capabilities. His swords flare with magical power, and Eskra gives him a soft punch on the shoulder, ”Go and get ‘em, friend.”
Eskra shakes their head, "Cool it. Let's talk to those kobolds. There's glory in the silver tongue, as well as the bloodied blades."
Don’t believe I do, Carageorn can get one but not til level 6.
I’m fine with things being a bit slower, I’m really enjoying my character and I see some good potential for the group so I’m game to keep going.
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