Maroux looks at Gwenhwyfar with a raised brow but refrains from answering.
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Maroux looks disappointed. "Firewood is good." she replies without excitement.
Maroux ogles Jimmy while pondering what he could do to repay her...
"Hosco, go play with the cat." Maroux tells her familiar. "Grah, cats are stupid!" the raven caws from his position on the shelf.
"No." Maroux replies and takes a sip of the 'tea'. "I can dispel magic, throw fireballs, create a stinking cloud, cause blindness/deafness, can do a burning gaze, cure moderate wounds, call a flaming sphere into existance, or use burning hands, magic armor, a ray of enfeeblement and a shocking grasp. And the spells without limit are detect magic, detect poison, read magic, and resistance." "Which of these are you interested in?"
Tea is an aromatic beverage commonly prepared by pouring hot or boiling water over cured leaves of the Camellia sinensis, an evergreen shrub (bush) native to Tian. The steaming beverage in the mug is no tea. And the aroma makes ones toenails roll up. It is for sure an acquired taste.
Knowledge(Nature) or Profession Herbalist DC20:
This brew is made from about a dozen local plants, at least three of them are slightly poisonous and hallucinogenic. Maroux pours two more cups for Gwenhwyfar and herself noticing with dismay that the Lillend is still there.
"I think it's worth having a look at. Tea it is then." Maroux tells and fetches some mugs from a shelf and a pot of questionable dark liquid from the stove. Always keeping an eye on the Lillend. "How long til your ally leaves?"
"No! I want to see your powerful ally!" Maroux snorts.
Maroux listens interested but stays suspicious. "A mighty witch you are if that is true." she comments, the disbelief clearly showing. But also curiosity. After a long pause she demands "Show me!"
"Why? I can kill boggards and troglodytes. She doesn't need help with that, as you obviously killed all the boggards here and transformed the troglodytes into a tribe of sun worshiping hippies." Maroux hollers back at Jimmy ignoring Gwenhwyfar. "Gimme that 'token of good faith'" she demands and takes the heavy basket with one hand. Not all witches are slender. "Getting spells has a price that is not paid in food. You have to offer spells in return. What do you have?"
the witch laughs out loud the shaking of her body forcing Hosco to flap off her shoulder to sit on a crude shelf made of sticks.
Maroux' narrows her eyes to slits. "What do you want?"
Maroux opens the door, with a grumpy look like always. On her shoulder sits Hosco the raven. "It's the witch. It's the witch." Hosco caws. "You forgot something the last time? Or are you done with life and want to become stew?" Maroux inquires.
"Am I the tourist information or what?" Maroux retorts annoyed. "There is a boggard tribe and a troglodyte tribe on the cape. They are dangerous. And you have to get in line at the Lady's Light. There are some others who came here recently. Some women clad in armour." "Now get off my island I want to enjoy my stew in peace."
"Cry me a river. So you found out they don't like what you are? You know what? People suck! Find yourself a place where you're alone." "But not here. Here is my place to be alone. So let's get this over with. What do you want so you can be on your way again." Maroux asks impatiently.
"I'm just a hermit living far away from other people to be on my own. If the ohter people let me." Maroux replies giving Gwenhwyfar a glare. "But who are you? And why do you disguise yourself as clergy?"
"Whom are you trying to convince?" Maroux retorts. "Everyone who is not blind can see that this is no ordinary cat." She stirs her stew with a large wooden spoon. Staring Gwenhwyfar into the eyes with a grin she adds "But to know it's a witch's familiar... I guess it takes one to know one."
This amuses Maroux and she laughs. But the longer it lasts the more it sounds like mad cackling. "He looked through your clerical disguise." she says pointing at the holy symbol around Gwenhwyfar's neck. "You should put your cat in a bag if you don't want Hosco to notice."
The half orc woman takes the seaweed and puts it into her cauldron. "Alright. Now I won't put you into my stew any more if you step on my island. But that is no invitation." The raven on her shoulder croaks "She's a witch! She's a witch!" "Shhh! Shut up." the woman says grabbing the ravens head.
"No. I don't know specifics. I don't go there because you know, it's haunted." the half-orc woman explains.
"The shipreck might be haunted by the way." the half orc woman calls after them.
"If you have to." the half orc replies still grumpy.
"There is an old shipwreck off the north coast of the larger isle to the west of my island. There are several patches of delicious and relatively rare seaweed known as kelpie’s hair that grow in and around the wreck. And I always had a fondness for kelpie’s hair soup." the woman replies.
As the group comes close to the bridge cooking smells pervade the area, though the odor is not altogether pleasant. As they step on the bridge a half orc woman steps out of the hut and shouts The foul tempered orc woman glares at the intruders. |