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Hon gives a grumble at the sudden creatures and their apparent blood list as he drops an image of himself behind the creature. As it's distracted he takes a moment to exploit vulnerability on it.
Hon, sopping wet off the side of the boat gives a grumble at the boat tossing him out, despite it being fairly clear he was trying to make sure that Granny was okay in the water. He gives a look at the wreck and reflects a copy of himself into the ocean, using the mirror to ferry things up to the surface.
He works quickly and efficiently, but overtaxes himself and quickly slows down in efficiency. "Ugh, this swimming thing is tiring."
Standing behind Granny Thistledown is an unhappy looking Hon, carrying a small tree sapling for the druid. He seems unfocused on the conversation going on around him as he recalls what happened after getting back to the Pathfinder camp... It was an absolute pleasure to finally find the organization he'd been tracking down for these past few weeks, or was it months, of traveling. He finally got to sign on the dotted line and even got rewarded his first Wayfinder. The feeling of accomplishment and hopes of finally finding a new group to belong to since he'd been booted from his tribe by his reflection... But then the next day, getting informed 'there's no free assignments' an d 'it'd probably be better if you kept traveling,' and 'we'll contact you when we need you.' So instead, he decided to keep following Granny and company. Shifting the plant to his other hand, Hon comes back to the present and steps up behind Granny. "I thought we'd agreed you'd stop complaining about the lack of nature here if we brought a sapling around. This things heavy and if it's not helping couldn't we just give it to someone and be done with it. *Honored-elder* Granny?"
Hon gives a shrug and heads into the caverns. He takes a look at the mushrooms and something seems to light up in his eyes. "Think I heard some iruxi from this area claim that some brightly colored mushrooms can give you magical powers. And, no, Savan, I mean actual magic not the kind you're thinking of. Might be good to keep some samples."
Hon pauses and narrows his eyes for a moment. "Right... I forgot about that... but that was two weeks ago. Jig, were you really following us for THAT long? And that's not even mentioning you Zarisha! Did we leave that obvious of a trail? We ought be more careful, *honored* Granny." Hon hoists his ubiquitous mirror into his left hand and extends his heavily scarred right hand to Savan and then X-23 in turn. Taking in the unusual cat and very nearly unique fish...thing? "Right, the name is Hon Utushi and I'm hoping to finally find someone to properly admit me to the Pathfinders. Hear they have all sorts of information about... and you're staring at a gun that shoots silverware. Great."
Having followed Granny from Belkezen, hoping to find some proper Pathfinders as the promised ones apparently never showed. Hon glances over her shoulder at the board, not really wanting to take another job, that is until he realizes that the Pathfinders had posted this one. He snatches up a copy of the flier as Granny seems to engage with the catfolk. He glances at the cat from the side of his eyes as the man lays on unnecessary charm. To each their own, I guess. He is surprised by the sudden appearance of Jig from nowhere. "Jiug? How long have you been there? You didn't follow us from Belkezen did you? Was I that blind?"
Hon strides closer to Green and makes a glint reflect off his mirror as another duplicate of him shows up in the space opposite the green spider. The new Hon has proves to be a perfect reflection of the original(?) Hon, holding his weapon and mirror in opposite hands and other things being reflected, but otherwise appears teh same. Both of them raise their weapons and swing down on the spider at the same time.
The two then both turn to face the water and island, hoping to help
Both Hons take a moment to think about what they might know about the spiders, as both mirrors turn to reflect the spiders.
He fails to find a specific weakness, but does remember he has a fly swatter of the great orc Onzalack that was purported to be the antithesis of any insect or arachnid, both Hons put their swatter on their longsword, before the one on the island where Unzgrin's cocoon was moves closer to the spiders, the Hon near everyone else shattering into tiny mirror shards that quickly dissipate. Getting up to the closest spider, he takes a swing with the longsword with a growl and grunt.
The two Hons give a shared look of surprise at the living woman that quickly melted into worry as they both pull out some spider lily. The one near the adventurer wraps it around any apparent wounds, while the other one near the edge of the water wraps his in open air. The Vines falling to the ground. "Right, she's stable and shouldn't be suffering anymore, but some actual healing would be needed to get her up and about."
Hon noting that the humans have the backpack covered moves closer to the pool and with his mirror in hand moves it to reflect a sudden flash of light before there's a second exact copy of him standing next to the humanoid shaped web cocoon. In stereo he comments, "Should check this out. Might be our 'adventerer.'" The Hon near the Web-thing then lifts his longsword and starts to cut into the Web thing as the one near the shores of the pool readies to step away and dispel the copy.
Hon nods in thanks to Granny, clearly wanting to say something disparaging about his fellow orcs, but ultimately stays silent. He instead turns to look down the cave, now brightly lit. "Hrmm, there are some boot tracks there. You have some keen eyes, *Honored-distant-elder*, doubt I would have ever found them. Take it we're going to get this explorer? Not a bad way to pass the storm." He grips the large mirro shard in one hand and his longsword in the other, before traipsing further into the cave.
Hon looks over Granny and shakes his head. "Metal's much better at keeping one safe, *honored-distant-elder*. Besides, any leather worth it's salt in protection ought be boiled to rock solid hardness and would soften in the rain as well." He then turns back to Fynn, giving the man a toothy grin and a laugh. "Being cautious never hurt, and I know how bad the, what do you call it, uhh, 'mob mentality' can get with my brethren. You're being smart, and I like that." He picks up the letter and gives it a glance over. "Seems like someone went spelunking on their own without warning anyone. Now this is just being stupid, going into ruins on your own, ya never know what might come about." ...like an enchanted mirror that makes an evil living reflection of you that steals your armor and takes your place in the tribe claiming you as the imposter. Shaking his head to clear the memories of his own stupidity, Hon starts gathering firewood and other materials for a fire. "It's not magic, but the second best way to dry out would be a good campfire. We probably ought to eat something before we go rescue that wayward traveler too. Never know when the opportunity will arise again."
Hon takes a moment to pause at the sudden reaction of the man in the cave already, but doesn't take any aggressive actions. "Not one to call friendship quickly, but we sure ain't enemies, and I have no beef nor bad blood with anyone here... yet. But, with Arazni as my witness, you try something stupid and I will respond likewise."
Hon moves away from the cave entrance a bit, realizing after a moment that he might be imposing and keeping people from getting inside. "Ain't my cave, nor my land, so come get some shelter. If you're this far in orc lands, I'm assuming you got proper passage rights, and so on. You haven't seen nothing of the Pathfinder Society have ya?" He pauses as he watches the near gallon of water gush out of a gun that looks like it could hold a quarter of that at best, " Sudden cloud bursts like this can last up to a few hours. It'd be good to have something to do."
A tall and imposing orc in chainmail that is definitely not of orc make, but with a proper orc helm on tromps into the cave and shakes off the water from the sudden cloudburst outside. "Damn stuff's going to rust! Hate when the weather turns like this!" He takes his time in drying, pulling out a surprising number of towels with odd sigils on them, and takes care with his sword, a weapon one could readily classify as a longsword, if they could be made in the shape of an isosceles triangle. He adjusts the various accoutrements he carries, from a small drum to what looks like a weathered banner of some forgotten warlord, but takes a long moment to make sure the large jagged shard of a mirror that he has partially wrapped in leather is okay. Peering out of the cave, Hon looks around for anyone else. Sighing in dispair, he plops down on the floor of the cave, clear view of the outside and not showing much interest in the note. "Signed up with the Pathfinders, said I was to meet a group of them around here and there's no one. Great! How am I going to find the way to kill my living reflection and go back to my tribe if the guides never show up?" |
