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Retzack blatantly wipes his finger along one of the surfaces that drips with Hazell's spittle. He hesitates a moment, then his EYES GO BIG, and he grabs at his throat, as his face PURPLES and he STRUGGLES to BREATH. "Gak! Perhaps! I...was...wrong. I've...wasted my life! I now...see...that...I need... to...be more....gen...er...oussssssss...... Daaaaaaaaaah, I'm just screwin' with ya," he chortles, breathing normally. "Y'all are past your expiration date for tossing that stuff around. The spooooooooooooky spiiiiiiiiiiiirits say that your blood is the numero uno frat party for those things and I couldn't cure you with Blood Magic, even if I wanted to. Which I don't. 'Cause you can't afford it.
It could be his head wasn't screwed on just right.
Only as Zanbabe pipes up and offers real material gains (and material that doesn't even technically belong to her!) does Retzack seem to pipe up and take interest. "Ahhhhhhhh. Now we're getting somewhere. See there? That's how things should be! I'm assuming you're talking about this fine piece of machinery in front of me that destroyed half my bar as well as the hunk of flying junk attached to the Angel, yes? Then done!" Without waiting for Frank's permission, or even opinion, two skeletons circle out of the bar and start the business of inspecting the 'cycle. "Alright, now that we're bestie buddies, I ain't seen that lowlife Borak for two weeks--he's been busy with some big project, too busy to come down here for his usual delivery. But I know for certain that the hotel manager, Fr. Murphy, heard your good pal Commander Gurden talking on his comm with someone he was pretty sure was Borak. You should go bother him and see what he knows. Also, Frank, I'll need your keys to the 'Rocket, so I can take possession even if you meet an untimely end. Unless you're thinking of stiffing me, in which case security might get an anonymous tip about a certain crew heading to the hotel." The Gemini Hotel is fairly well known, and not too far away. But whether you can get an audience with the manager on such short notice and in a state of emergency will still be seen.
"Congratulations," Retzack deadpans, holding his chin in his hand as he rests on the bar. "You are now the proud owner of 15 million Gemini credits."
K'kth'ki, once he's himself again, Retzack shakes his head at you."And no, ten credits will not suffice. What, you think you're like a Jedi? Come on! Even Obi-Won didn't go for broke, he just jacked the price of the landspeeder up a couple creds so they could get their 2K. So had you asked me to accept, say, three quarters, or even half, you might have a shot. But no your limitations. Know thyself and thy enemy and all that...." Man this goblin is a real piece of work.
After his form is destroyed by a flurry of questionably reasoned gunshots, Retzack, or a form of him, re-rezzes a few meters to the left of the beer taps and walks back behind the bar, raising another two skeletons in front of him. "Sorry. Shooting the bartender only works in cheesy westerns. I've had more people threaten me than people you -know-. You think a few puny guns are gonna work? You know what my bottom line would look like if people found out that they could get something from me with something that _wasn't_ money? I shudder at the thought."
BAM! POW! ZAP! ZOT! Between SO 4-45's howling, and Eruaphen blasting everything in sight the two skeletons are BLASTED apart and reduced to evil, life-hating dust. Retzack glowers, coughs, makes a motion, and two more skeletons arise, ripped from their eternal sleep and shackled to his cold desire for a forward-looking paradigm and a maximized profit margin. "Hmmm. Yes. Very impressive. You break into my bar, destroy my property, murder my servants and my guests. And THAT is what grieves me the most!
Anyway, very clever. We can do this all day. You must be hungry, please, eat something." The server comes by and gives everyone who wants one a basket of pipin' hot curly fries.
"Oh, my greatest apologies for your incredible bad luck which is completely not my fault and none of my concern," the goblin says sardonically. "Please. On the house." He makes a motion with his hand an robot crafted to look like an improbably-endowed human roller-skates in an deposits a sizable platter of hot, spiced curly fries in front of Able. "That's for you. Now, as for the other thing," he makes another motion and a no, seriously, pair of fragging skeletons raise up from the ground in front of him. They're dressed in rusty chainmail and wield broken swords. They gaze at the party with baleful hatred of all things living. There had been rumors of Retzack being a necromancer, but this...well, in the police business we call this "evidence". "I run a seedy bar on a corrupt space station and you don't think I have to handle a few drunken toughs two or a hundred times? Now, make with the soft talk and the phat stacks," he says, rubbing two fingers together in the universal sign of filthy lucre.
"DAMMIT Frank!" the goblin spits at you. "They hadn't paid their bill yet! Do you know how much business I turned away for their private party? And how much I had to spend on their champ-pag-en?? Hell, I even got those little chocolate things that look like...you know. And those robo-dancers aren't free y'know! I don't give two large femurs for what you just asked. And I don't know, even if I did care, which I don't. But for THIS? You know what this will take. Money. More."
Now outside the immediate area of danger, Retzack gazes thoughtfully at his hands. He...remembers. He...used to be able to do that. He used to...sense the magic. But...not now. He shakes his head and comes out of his revelry. He looks at his magnum opus, the crocolich. "The human is proving quite resourceful. Annihilate him." The words are unneeded, but he felt like they should be said. He holds the rest of the troops back. He's lost too much already. The gargantuan lizard crawls his way in to the bar, ready to do battle. Retzack keeps the door open a hair's breath, watching the fight.
Retzack quickly wrangles the squad into teams, sending various reinforcements into each of the three buildings, trying to get a somewhat even disposition. Into the tailor's and cobbler's--smaller buildings with (probably) fewer patrons of less-unruly disposition--he sends 3 goblins and 4 kobolds. That leaves 4 goblins and 5 kobolds for him to lead personally into the tavern. "Remember!" he shouts as he organizes the assault teams. "If they cower, just keep them in place until I can attend them! But if they fight against you, no mercy!" Thematically, Iris joins the team going into the cobbler's, and Bart follows the team going into the tailor's.
Retzack congratulates his troops and making the building safe...or at safer than any other random building. "Alright guys, take a knee, take a knee. Get some water. We're gonna rest for ten, then we're gonna--" at that moment he's interrupted by a young female kobold, delivering Oadir's message.
No go deliver your message, and tell MY messenger to get back here!"
Retzack turns away and addresses his troops again. After making small talk so they may rest after their labors, he addresses them in earnest. "Alright, as I was saying, we've done good work here, but it's time to start looking for trouble. We're still gonna sweep&clear each house, but we're not gonna loot in earnest. Face it--we own this town! All we need to do is get rid of all the stinking humans! Hence, every house gets a quick search, but only stop for two things: Weapons and people. Weapons just drag out and dump outside the door--we'll take what we need. If you find people and they resist--Yell loudly and kill them. If you find people they cower...then you MUST leave them alone and come find me! I will deal with them. I shall convert them to our cause. I've been known to be...quite persuasive. Now move out! And let none deny you your Crown and Ring!"
"Klaatu, Barata...Nikto." Retzack stiffens. "Someone is playing with powers...FAR BEYOND THEIR COMPREHENSION!!!1!" *dun Dun DUNN!!*Rule number one: If you come across a screaming book bound in human flesh, always open it and start reading aloud. That's never gone poorly. =p
Retzack looks about gleefully upon seeing that they have started on such a good foot-hold into the city. He calls a halt to the work and gathers every around.
This last building is a handsome house with good stone walls. Let us take an hour's pause in our advance and fortify it somewhat. We'll knock down the house next to it, and build up the walls and create some rough ground around it. I don't mean for it to withstand a siege, but if ever we are scattered, or, should you ever lose heart, simply make your way back here and we'll re-group before another push to victory! Eats-Bugs, go and run and find Oadir or Thunk. Let them know that we're pausing in the advance to fortify our position, but we'll press on again shortly."
Retzack gleefully congratulates the ones that found such a rich trove of armors, and happily claps each trooper on the helm as he sees that all can wear something do so. As every member clamps helm to head, Retzack starts to move out in earnest. He restricts their looting to the street they are on, methodically cleaning out the adjacent building, and working their way to the center. As nice as looting the buildings of his former gaolers is, he knows that the primary mission of Squad Warhammer is to divert the attention of any formal resistance remaining. As they clear out one building after another, moving inexorably closer to the center of power, he keeps a watch for any attack.
As Squad Warhammer moves out, Retzack is surprised, if not disappointed, to find no immediate resistance. Still, one does not go looking for trouble if it's not quick in the offering. As the abandonment becomes clear, Retzack quickly gathers his small band in a nearby schoolhouse. It's an old building, and though the facade shows signs of years of rough treatment and spilled fluids, the stout brick that peaks out through holes in the whitewash holds a strength that one can count on. "Alright, we are here to kill and loot. Since we have nothing to kill, we can begin to loot! Take what you can. Whatever precious you find and can fit upon thy person, you may, but no doubt we shall find things of more weight or quantity than we can easily carry. So, we claim THIS as our basecamp. Whatever loot find that is not small enough to easily carry, just bring here. If you find something of note that is too heavy to carry, bring it to my attention and I'll have a Reborn assist you. Remember, we still have hard fighting ahead! Be not stingy or greedy, there is loot aplenty to make us all princes! Take thee heed of weapons, armor, and equipment of a martial capacity. So too, an he find items of magicks, bring those to me and ye shall find thyself with great favor! Vae Victus!"
The lighting crashes brightly and the thunder rumbles as a mighty wind blows powerfully on Retzack's cloak. He drinks in the power and energy of the storm like a thirsty Irishman in a pool of whiskey, uncaring of the droplets that pelt his keen-eyed frame. He glances about him one last time, then both arms rise, one hand clenching his other wrist in the Sign of the Hammer. It is the sign that says "Many stand against us, but they will never win
As his small army flows forward, they hear him mutter, "Wipe them out. All of them."
Retzack stands with his small warband, drinking in the sights and the conquest to come. He takes breath and is about to give word to move out--
Retzack nods at Greas' parting form. "Agreed. The time to plan has passed. We must needs now act. Even if what we are doing is wrong, any action is now better than now action. Methinks 'tis only a matter of time until yon Rainmaker drowns us in thinks more violent than water." He splashes over to the eating area and gathers up the goblins and kobolds. He counts off 10 kobolds at bids them to go to Oadir. The rest he gathers about him, noticing that the goblins have gathered themselves on one side, and the kobolds on another. Looking at the goblins, he places his a fist over his heart and again says "Werze."
Still holding fist on heart, Retzack turns to the Kobolds and says, in their own language, "Et Takardem" The kobolds need known to sell them on this point, and they mirror that statement. "Et Takardem" "We will count off in pairs--one goblin to one kobold. This will represent our unity in purpose. There is but one distinction: Us, and the Humans. Let none say otherwise." The demihumans reluctantly pair off. A few look on the boarder of rebellion, but the Crocolcih paddling in the water and the look of RedTooth's arm quell any poison tongues before they wag. That left on kobold alone. "You there," said the Necromancer. "By what are you called?" "Me...Me am...Me am Runs-Like-Coward." The kobold took a great interest in his wet feet. "No, that is not a name fitting one who holds such an august position in this army! No name like that should be given to...our flag bearer!" Runs looks up in interest, and, at a gesture, Bart went over to a thick oaken eating table and smashed his undead fist through a board, returning with a stout plank five feet in length.
"Ah, but white is no color for a conquering army that shall never know defeat!"
Now, we must needs have weapons for our culling of the humans. Since they have provided the material, let us harvest it from them!" Bart's fists again attack the table, smashing the oaken boards into planks a few feet long. Each of these make-shift clubs are lifted by goblin and kobold hands, and brandished proudly as though they were fine Aquilonian steel. "Yes. YES! Now for Wrath! Now for Ruin! Let us muster at the gate and await the sign of our Revenge!" Retzack gathers his force at the front door, pausing for sign that the other Squads are on the ready line. Goblin:
"I believe." Draconic: "For Tanard."
Um, what? Honestly I was just trying to work out the logistics of who has what when we go on the attack. You said you wanted the biggest ones, and I though Thunk would like the orcs, and the Strix and Tieflings were already sopken for, so it just made sense that I'd get a scattering of what was left. And then I wrote it down so we could be about it. If we let the NPCs decide, I'm sure Mooshy is gonna ruin us six was from Sunday how -that- is gonna play out. But if you want to run all the NPCs, feel free. I thought it would be a bit of a burden, but if that's what you're going for, by all means let fly.
"Ah! You have the right of it, of course of course. We should maintain unity, so take all 3 Tieflings. We don't want them to get uncomfortable surrounded by orcs. Greas and 3 Tieflings shall be "Squad Spider" and will assassinate high value targets of opportunity." He updates the list of chalk:
Retzack nods. He takes a piece of chalk and begins drawing on the wall. "Smoog, take all 5 Strix. You shall be 'Squad Phoenix Hawk,' and take to the skies. Try to infiltrate as far back as you can, targetting their leadership and logistics. Thunk, take the 5 Orcs and 3 Tieflings. You shall be 'Squad Vindicator', and will act on the ground as you see fit, probably supporting Oadir. I will take all 12 goblins, and 13 kobolds. We shall be 'Squad Warhammer' and will go up the middle, causing as much noise and chaos as possible, occupying the bulk of their forces. Oadir, take the Half-Giant, all 3 Trolls, the Duergar, and 10 kobolds as infantry support. You shall blitz up, penetrating deeply, killing much, and disallowing them a secure point to retreat to and gather a counterattack, or to form a solid defensive line.
'Squad... Atlas.' There. I think that's pretty basic. Anyone not mentioned, my darling and capable wife included, may attach thyselves where you see best and act as you see fit. Any questions?"
Retzack resumes his places in the council of Greas, Sees, and Smoog. "If you are willing, as you lead the Teams of Sneakiness, I am willing to take the rest of the horde and move out in strength, forcing them to send their might against a broad front. Surely this will leave the leadership in the far rear vulnerable?"
Retzack nods at Sees. "Of course, of course. Just keep me in the loop. In addressing the goblins, I will play the "Alpha". When Greas approaches the Strix they will assume he is the "Subtle" and may look upon him with greater favor." Spoiler'd for length:
Retzack, flanked by his three Reborn, goes down and joins his kinfolk goblins as they chatter amongst themselves. "Greetings, greetings my brothers! And how do you find this find day? I have it on good authority that we shall move out soon and subject the humans to glorious warfare...all in Tanard's wondrous name. How does that strike you?" The majority of goblins chitter and nod, knowing a war leader when they see one.
Retzack takes this calmly, and sits down, crossing one leg over another. "Well, that's a very noble aspiration you have, but, alas, the ways of dragons are never so direct as that. The kobolds, and myself, act as Tanard's agents. And you, as newly come acolytes, then take the word from us. And Tanard already has a high priest. His name is Thunk and he...well, let's say he is quite fervent of his position, and would not be willing to step aside for a goblin. Understand? And what are you called, my overly brash cousin?" The goblin is clearly not wooed by such soft words. "Me am RedTooth! Me am strongest and smartest! You talk with weak kobolds! You weak! We no follow you weakness! Go, or me stuff you down potty hole!" The rest of the goblins chuckle and laugh at the naughty threat. They've even seen RedTooth do that a couple times so it's also true. Funny -and- true! Retzack reclines deeper in his chair, at quite ease, and nods in understanding. "Well, that is an unfortunate position to take, and I see that I'll need to speak to you in a language that everyone here can understand." He makes a small motion with his hand and Bret comes up behind RedTooth. The Reborn grabs the goblin by the neck and lifts him up. He puts his other hand on the back of the goblin's head so he can't escape. Lily grabs RedTooth's arm, just below the elbow, and places it down on the table, her iron-hard grip allowing no motion. The croc-o-lisk makes no move, save to look at the rest of the goblins, flicking his tongue out, smelling for further betrayal. Retzack, still calm, says, "True, I myself am weak, but I command with ABSOLUTE certainty a power GREATER than you can comprehend!" Lily holds the goblin's arm still and with her other hand draws and lifts up her heavy kitchen knife. "While I -should- gut you like a fish for your INSOLENCE, I sense that you are having a change of heart. Perhaps you find that I am not so weak? That I have commanded before and that you would find it honorable to march with my army?" RedTooth cranks his eyes in Retzack's direction, but can make no move, so tight is Bret's grip on his neck and head. The other goblins cower and grovel, whimpering in hope that after RedTooth is killed, they will not be next. "No need to say it. I know of your deep affection for Tanard, and for me. I--" Retzack seems to pause. 'Well done. They have your loyalty now.'
Lily's heavy knife comes down and chops Redtooth's arm off neatly below the elbow. Redtooth looks on in silent horror as his blood comes out in a swiftly gathering pool, and his feet stamp in pain, but Bart's iron grip allows him no further action. Every other goblin is on their knees in supplication of a Warleader's wrath. Retzack is lost in a momment of horror, but he realizes he can show no weakness, or all is already lost. He continues. "See now! See what you have brought upon yourself! But! But I am not without mercy. Or Power! Witness!" From Lily's body emerges the heavy-jawed ants and the three-sectioned centipedes. The bugs infest the severed arm heavily, and the jaws of the ants clamp down upon the arm, suturing it all along the sundered circumference.
At last the arm is reattached, and the table and floor and not overly reddened by too much blood. At last Bart and Lily release their silent grip on Redtooth, who is surprised sublimely that his arm now functions as it always had. Now Retzack rises. He gazes at the kneeling goblins and places one closed fist over his heart. "Werze." The goblins, all kneeling now, including Redtooth, mirror the gesture. "Werze. "Rise, my brothers. Soon we go to kill and plunder. I would have you of a joyous heart when that hour is upon us." Retzack gathers his Reborn and leaves. On his way out he catches the eye of the Strix and gives them a quick wink. Goblin: "I Believe."
Retzack sees Sees and Greas talking about something (probably the best way to kill him. Another day, another death plot) and he casually walks over to them. "Greetings. A fine day for a mild rain storm, eh? I was just wondering if you had any plans for bringing the scheming Strix to heel? If I might be so bold, perhaps I would be best employed for this? I already must needs bring my devious kinfolk into the fold, so the Strix no doubt already see we Goblins and -assume- we are up to something. Hence, if I approach them and say I need them for a "plan," they will already be half interested, leaping to the conclusion that I, of course, have something cooking. The longer I act without deceit, the more loyal they will be, since they'll simply guess that I have a longer, and more convoluted, game planned out. Whereas if you kobolds try to get them in a plot, and I mean no offense here, but they might immediately start to look out for a way to double-cross you, if only out of habit. What say you?"
Retzack takes a minutes' pause and regains his breath. Gathering his strength he makes a monumental effort and stands upright. He addresses Greas, and then seeks out Oadir and gives him the same message. "My friend, we all know that in this time of strife, we must have unity of purpose. Alas, I know my kind, and though we might be filled with sublime zeal one moment, we can be easily distracted and change purpose, or even loyalties, the next. I would not see our cause fail because some cunning human offered the goblins shiny objects, so I shall bend their will. Indeed, I hope to craft their will into an unbreakable shield, though I will settle for a castle of sand that at least does not collapse at the first wisps of rain. Note, though, I must do this -my- way. Goblins respect -strength-. Though my darling wife--" 'Oh my but it feels odd to say that.'
"--says the pretty words, words are but dust in the wind to the average goblin. Do not interfere. Do not condemn...openly. I do what I do for the greater good. If you halt my hand, you will forever have to watch your back against these dozen new goblins." After the deep council, the necromancer stops off in the kitchen and Bart and Lily pick up two heavy kitchen knives, stowing them in their sashes.
Spoilered for length: Retzack nods humbly. "As you wish. Prepare thy fingers. They shall be yours again." Retzack takes Greas into a side room and closes the door. He holds the severed fingers in his palm and meditates on them for several minutes. Bugs of every color and description crawl over, around, and inside the blackened, necrotic, fingers.
"Hold out the hand you want them attached to."
Again the familiar phrase is heard. Not in his normal voice, but in a deep, somber tone that reverberates around the room. "Embrace the pain. It is the only way." The croc-o-lich, which had slithered around behind Greas, again rears up on its hind legs, and six powerful, tree-thick limbs clamp down upon the kobold no weaker than would a steel vice, or the tender grip of the iron maiden. Bart and Lily come forward and lift the mangeled hand up, clamping the arm straight with four hands made powerful by a full-body treatment which even now graces the severed digits. Bugs that look like ants but with four large wings and mandibles as long as their body land on the kobold's hand and begin biting hard, opening up the wound. Again and again they bite until blood flows freely.
The pain is excruciating. Retzack extends his hand and the fingers move as if by their own volition, but they are carried by hundreds of cargo bugs that look like small dragonflies. They hover the fingers over to the bleeding stumps. At last the spiders, tiny as dust motes, begin sewing vein to vein, tendon to tendon, flesh to flesh. The pain slowly fades, and fades...and fades. The three Reborn release the kobold. Within another minute the only evidence that the fingers had ever been severed is a minute scar running along the circumference. Retzack hunches down, exhausted with effort. 'Impressive. Your technique has improved since last I saw you work.'
Retzack looks to where Greas is pointing and his eyes focus on the disembodied fingers as if for the first time. "Ah! Oh my, -those- are what you wish to put on your hand? Oh dear me I had thought those were some burned, mangled, half-eaten sausages you had gotten somewhere. Oh my oh my, no no no no no. Tsk tsk tsk, those would...they would never work. No no. Too much trauma. Far too much. I would...I don't even know if I could.... Come now, wouldn't you like some human fingers? Or even entire hands! Wouldn't it feel better to have, supple, pink, human hands? Or what about the troll?? Oh, oh course, they would look immense on your hands, much like the croc-o-claw that Eats-Bugs has (and where has the boy gotten to?) but think of the advantages!" 'So you can't help him? My how powerful you are you can't even attach a few fingers.'
"Then again, they are very fine fingers. It would be a waste to not use them.
Retzack nods at Greas. "Oh, of course of course. Ah, do you have the missing body part with you? If you do not, I shall need to scrounge to find something suitable. Ah, um, we seem to have a lack of dead kobolds, so which would you prefer? Alas, we have nought but humans in large stock. 'Twould serve, of course, but I can understand the, ah, stigma that such might accompany. Alas...well, there is...and the things I could do! O, great things. Indeed, none would be harmed. And you! You might glean part of the power of such a thing! Yes...yes I think that might do. Which would you rather have, my brother-in-kobold. Human fingers.... or troll?"
'Awwww, you can't even control your own creations.'
Retzack stops in hsi tracks and frowns. Tiny winged messengers, the size of dust-motes and barely visible, fly from him to the red-eyed bride. The Dead-Movers along the stabilizing Rectus capitus group of muscles, as well as the large sternocleidomastoid are given impetus to grow and strengthen. Retzack smiles at the perfect and alabaster unliving thing. "You had red, red roses. Dozens and dozens of them. They represented the blood of slaves spilled so those in your audience could grow soft and not live to their full potential. We only work as hard as we need to, and slavery of the living is a great retardant of economic growth. No society can grow great with it." He turns, his smile gone as if it had never been. More Viators fly. M̷ȩ͞m͜͡or̶̢y̴͝ ̷̀͡s͝͏ù̡͢p̶͢p̀͘ŗ́e̷̸s̸s̸̛i̷̶͏o̧͘n͜͏ =̨͝ MO̕͞R͘E͟ Retzack follows Greas and Oadir to the commotion. They handle it admirably and he feels no need to interfere. "I concur, Lord Oadir." 'Why am I calling him 'Lord' now?'
"The humans are certainly mustering in force. What are your plans for striking at the town and securing our freedom?"
Retzack stands and exchanges rings: The priceless Diamond of Massiveness to her, and the Stone of Irrationality for him. He puts it on...and begins to feel more calm already. 'Oooooooooooooooh yeah. Thaaaaat's the good stuff. What was I ever worried about in the first place?' He endures Oadir's ceremony, wishing the demon had at least put in a little better of a veneer of sincerity in it. Even marriages of convenience should start off on a golden foot. At the end he, being a goblin of tradition, leans in for a kiss from the female kobold.
As both business and ceremony is completed, Retzack's words follow Oadir's deeds. 'Indeed indeed! There is busineess to be done and a kingdom to be won! We have promises to keep...and miles to go before we sleep. Still, I'm infinitely glad of the words that have been said and deeds done. Truthfully the future will be--" Retzack seems to stutter over the last word, as if inhaling before finishing the sentence.
inner thoughts:
'Hello again.' 'YOU?!? What in the name of Propoket's throbbing member are YOU doing here???' 'You leave my side for a few short years and I find you already carting around with some hussy. Not even a goblin!' 'You left ME! Without so much as a by-your-leave, I found you AND the Stone missing! Wait a minute! What are you doing HERE?' 'Ya, lover-boy, you never fully understood the Stone. Turns out it doesn't so much 'relieve' you of emotion as 'store' them. Spoiler alert: I'm immortal now. And a good thing too. I've been waiting for -ages- for someone suitable--as in, not her--to put this thing on. You can't imagine how glad I am that it's you. And just in time too. You were about to make a terrible mistake. Well, more than the one you've already made. I got a lot of work to do to make things right.' 'NO! No no no no no no NO! You can NOT ruin things now! I've, I've, I've done so much and I'm so close to--' 'Shhhhhh. Sh sh sh sh shhhhh. There there. Mellisand's here to make everything--' "--much better." Retzack leaves the room and summons his minions. He stalks out, taking stock of the situation.
Retzack nods at Greas. "You are of course correct, as always, wise Greas. We can't be expected to leave so many alone for so long without expecting them to blow up -something-. Let's just hope they haven't done anything too wacky like try to find the wine cellar or something. And, but though we shall be hasty, we can not be too hasty. Sees? There is a minor detail to complete. Unless you would rather wait until the perfect moment, though, alas, in hectic times such as this, one can hardly promise a peaceful rest, let along a picnic of wine and cheese along a moon-dappled coastline." Again the diamond ring is in his hands, presented forward. "Shall we?"
Question the first:
Retzack listens patiently as the other questions and answers are received and delivered. He feels contended, pleased that he is included in a session of honesty among those that had so recently been openly accusing him of much mischief. He grins. "Excellent! Isn't this fun? The open and free give and take. Burdens being shared and lifted. Feelings explored and explained. Deepest desires being given voice. Greas, here's something I can do for you: By the power vested in me by Propoket the Many, and the goblin tribal leader Meatsnacks, my Propoket bless him and keep him, I hereby absolve you of all burdens related to prior actions. Propoket teaches us that the crimes committed weigh on the hand that committed them, there is no other burden. I do not blame myself for the loss of my former tribe, I blame the human army that attacked them. So, too, you did not wage death upon those you cared about, this band of adventurers did. Hence, to blame thyself for the actions of others is to blame thyself for the sin of not being omnipotent. If you wage war for revenge, that is different. But do not mistake a burden of action for a burden of inaction. It seems to me the only thing more you could have done is die by their side, and then who would meet out righteousness upon their murderers?" Retzack leaves the rhetorical question aside and turns to Sees. "Ah, my beautiful bride-to-be. How little I know about you--the real you. I know only what I've seen you do--or not do--over the little time we've been together. Hence, since we have so little time and so few questions, I must needs cut to the quick. We are not the mask we show the world, but the inner face we hide from all. Hence, that is what I would know of you. My first question to you is: What do you desire most? The -really- interesting thing will be what my second question is." Question the second: Retzack absorbs Sees' answer to his first question. He follows her answer with, "Well! What I truly want to know is:How can I get you to Love me?"
The Devil and Retzack: Retzack cocks an eyebrow at Greas. "Really? Truly? Really and truly? Remember, all we are promised here is the truth. If you just want to hear soft words that you find pleasing, you would best wait outside. But if you are prepared to Stare into the Abyss, then by all means...." He returns a libidinous wink at Sees. "Yes, remember we are uttering truths...not wishes. Retzack follows Sees into the quiet room and stands amicably as she decorates the place--he has no desire to sit while she is not, so he waits patiently.
'Whom do you Serve?' The question rings out, and it is not unexpected. "Propoket teaches us that as each does what is best for himself, he does what is best for the group. He tells us it is less advantageous to steal a coin from a stranger for one day, than it is to sell him something for a coin for five days.
Propoket tells us that by the sweat of our brow the tomorrow we create is one that is deserved. You do not bite the hand that feeds you--you become prosperous and employ it. You do not tax your peons heavily--you tax them lightly and gain more coin when your neighbor's peasants become your own of their own volition. Hence, I serve all--by serving myself." What do you most desire? This, too, already has an answer. "I will rule. A vast empire who's lowest provinces are rich estates compared to the hovel that fool Meatsnacks ruled over. A great host of beings from all corners will pledge to me as their ruler, and all will love me. Through the fires of industry will all hands be made industrious and all heads be made prosperous. No man will be born noble, save if he can make himself so through the sweat of his own brow or the fat of his intellect." Retzack opens his eyes and stares about, refreshed as though getting up from a brief nap. "Well, how was that?"
Retzack smiles and stands up. "Excellent! I'm so glad that we could finally get all that negative karma behind us. Now, if you'll excuse me, the three of us need to go get to know each other, O, -very- well indeed!" He looks at Oadir and winks. "Careful, big man. She did say we would 'suffer naked'. She might mean it literally! We might finally get to see how you can channel your shadow, aye? Wink wink nudge nudge, aye? Now, my dear, let's do this thing and get it done with. The rest of you, again, much gratitude for taking the time, but I think I hear the distinctive sound of torches being lighted and pitchforks sharpened, so we'd best see to our own defense. And if by 'defense' you mean 'offense' then I'm happy to help! After you, darling." Retzack's mind, never idle, is weighing the sociological factors that he saw of the human town. Based on the size of the knight force just vanquished, the amount of slaves and ex-slaves counted, and the general population of the town, how long would they have until a large-scale assault was mounted by the humans, and of what size would it be?
Oadir, that is an extremely concise, accurate, lucid, and self-aware summation of the situation to date. I think the exemplary point of action was early on. We had just gotten out and were eating rations (back when I forgot I started with rations). Retzack walked up to someone (I forget who, not important) and said "Hi friend," and was told something like "We're not friends. Go away." Eventually someone else did give Retzack a ration...but didn't even say anything. Hence the message was learned that "You'll find no friends here." At no point did anyone walk up to him and say "Oh, hey, Retzack, right? Hi, I'm Dave and we're on this big quest to avenge something and we're after some bad guys and it's gonna be awesome. It's so cool that you can join us on this thing. We even got our own dragon named Tanard and she's rocks. We're gonna go whomp ass on a Time Temple. Yeah!" So, given that, anyone would answer the request of "You who we totally ignored up to this point, you should act like a saint and worship our gal," would be "Why?" 2) The really amazing part here is that everyone is up in arms about how they "think" what Retzack's "intentions" will be in the "future". It's not like Retzack actually killed, or even harmed, a party member. There just seems to be a general agreement that Retzack is gonna...do something...and that something would...somehow be really bad. We think. 2.5) With that said, I've never understood Greas' hatred of Retzack. It seems like it just showed up one day, and is just because he's an outsider. Like a space marine's xenophobia? Sort of? 3) His name is Eats-Bugs. Ummmm, yeah, I got a whole narrative lined up for him. Uh, you're won't have any trouble remembering who he is then. =)
Whoa whoa whoa. Let's just take a sec now. Okay, the fastest and most surefire solution here is for Thunk to look contemplative for a moment and then say something to the affect of "Okay. Sees smart. You good for now. But you try hurt red nard and you get thumped dead!" Retzack will of course be most amenable and joyous that a mutual understanding has been reached. How's that sound?
Retzack turns to Sees. "Darling, again your wisdom surpasses my own and shines like a star in darkest night. Truly your words are the only ones worth listening to. I see now that I was a fool to doubt your sincerity. I was like an animal sorely wounded, seeing threat at every corner, but your voice is as a soothing balm. Ah, but of all the questions asked this day, there is still one that hangs like the Sword of Damacles. Does your speech mean the answer is 'yes'? "
One moment Retzack was gazing deeply into Sees-Death's entrancing eyes, and in the next moment he had not one but THREE men standing over him, debating his true intentions. Alright, he had to admit--this was interesting. As he seemed to be the center of attention, he set himself up to give each speaker their due. He sat at ease in his chair, the two human Reborn taking up flanking positions behind him. The croc-o-lich meandered in, flicking its tongue in idle smelling, and eventually laid down next to his chair. With one hand he contentedly petted the giant reptile, and his other hand held the soft, tender hand of the death-seer. He smiles, amicably. "Gentlemen, gentlemen. I thank you for coming to me with these concerns. Now that everything is out in the open, I think we can best move forward, and I promise to address each of you in turn. First, do please obey Oadir and back off. You could never trust any words that I said under promise of violence anyway, so your martial stance does nothing for anyone here. the LARGE difference between the two questions of divinity is that I venerate Propoket the Many in my own way. Never have I even spoken before of him, for I believe how one worships is their business, and their business alone. I am NOT standing over you, stating that you also must worship Propoket, or find thyself 'thumped'. To do so would be the act of the tyrant, and trying to enforce religion on a populace has never gone well. As to the rest...what would have of me? Yes, I admit that I have discovered the ability to increase my flock of servants if they come to me willingly. What of it? After one is dead, your soul goes on and the rest can either be eaten by wolves or worms....or, it can be an assistant to a higher purpose. Let us say that and one of the ex-slaves below goes into battle against the humans. The ex-slave is killed, and Smoog finds himself beset by a group of humans and he knows he will surely perish. Which would you rather: That he fights against the humans -alone- and dies, OR that the ex-slave rises and kills all the humans, and Smoog lives to see another day? I know I would choose the option that allows us to take vengeance against those that have done us wrong, while maximizing the chance that we will live to see a happy day in victory. Is that somehow unreasonable? It is my belief that ALL my actions up to this point have been for all of our betterments. Indeed, unlike...some...I have not stabbed anyone seated here. When you justify THAT action, THEN you may preach to me of SELFISH ACTIONS! Ah, forgive me, forgive me. That was rude. But you must admit that you met words with blades, and that is not always the best option. Hence, now that I've explained my actions, can it not be said that I have your best interests at heart? how can you say that my cause is not yours? In this very building we attacked a -large- group of humans. One of them was quite strong, but all of you were able to concentrate against him because -my- servant decimated the masses of humans that might otherwise have acted against you. Indeed, there was even one human warrior of some skill that opposed my servant, which, if I had not been here, might have turned the tide in the druid's favor! Does that not prove that my cause is cleaved to yours? Does not the fact that I have spilled blood in your protection grant us some degree of brotherhood? Heh. But if you require mind-delving, there is no need to involve Sees. I'm certain she has...other ways of loosing tongues." He gives Sees a sidelong-glance and winks at her. "But if Smoog wishes to take a dive into the deep end of the pool, I shall not interfere. Let us put your mind to rest and be back in the business of our righteous cause!"
As Thunk looks pointedly at Retzack, he necromancer untangles himself from Sees' grasp and returns the gaze. "Eh? Why should you come soliciting at my door? I already have a gawd, and he is Propoket, the Many. He cares not for immaterial, and cares greatly for the material. He is the body you posess, the clothes you wear, the weapon you wield. He is the coin in your pocket as you hand it to the merchant. He gathers not souls, and knows the body is but a broken vessel when you are done with it. He has given me the power to move corpses. What can your 'red nards' (is that what you are saying? My dear boy, I can't understand half your words) offer me? You say that you have great power in your red nards, but what have I seen of this power? And even thy own flock denies you. Greas denies you his life, Oadir denies too his divinity. And now you come to me looking for the coin that thy clan gives you not? Begone with you. Come back when a real deity rides by thy side." Retzack gazes returns to Sees-Death (a bit too purposfully?) and he seems to ponder. He turns his head back to Thunk. "Ah! But it seems I am bested by your cunning plan! My bride-to-be hath purchased all thy stock, and, if she is important to me, then so must her causes carry some weight, yes? If I am to be a good partner. Fine." The two human Reborn return. Lily is extending her hand to Retack, as if to present something small in her closed fist. "I PLEDGE UNTO THEE! So long as this intelligent, lovely, capable, wise, skilled, resourceful, beautiful, bold, brilliant Sees-Death is joined unto me in loyalty and love, I shall return an...equal...measure of loyalty to thee and thy cause. Everybody wins." He holds a hand out and Lily puts something in it. He leans forward to Sees-Death and presents something to her, mirroring the sapphire ring that Sees-Death is presenting to Retzack. It is a ring. It is a shiny, spectacular, bejeweled diamond ring, the kind a woman of importance and standing would have. "I believe the human phrase here is, 'Will you marry me?'"
True to his word, Retzack maintains a stony silence, letting others fill the air with words and ideas of their own. Even when the sultry and tempting visage of the death-seer drapes her lithe and nubile form around him, he maintains his silent vigil, keeping his word. But at last his mind returns from the long, and quite fun, vacation it had been on, and he feels great need to address events as they happen, especially the ring he is presented. 'Oh by Propoket's bulging coin purse, is that the Stone of Irrationality? No, it could not be. Though I know that stone intimately and that ring has the same look...how would she have come to posses it??' He turns his head toward Sees-Death. He makes an obvious attempt to keep a stony face, but he loses the struggle and a smile grows on his mouth. First the edges of his lips spring upwards slightly, and as happiness wages a successful war in his head, the smile grows and grows, until he is grinning like a young a boy on Winters Eve. He's grinning like pauper learning that he's to become king. He's grinning like gambler seeing his last dollar find a winning horse. He's grinning because he's happy. He snaps his fingers at his two followers. They exchange glances and move out of the room. He leans in close, and whispers sweet nothings into her ear. Sees-Death: "I admit that this is equally wanted as it is unforeseen. Long has my gaze rested upon your form, wishing that you might desire me as I desire you.
And breath." At first there is no noticeable change, but suddenly you notice that the constant noise of buzzing insects is...gone. No little wings fly in the air about him, the fine hairs of his arm do not move as signs of passing traffic. It's as if he never had them to begin with. And then you breath, and not only is there no stench of rot or tell-tale scent of insectoid life, but the air is beyond fresh. It is...clean. And is...is that lilacs? Yes, the air definitely smells like lilacs. And something else. Something...manly. With a slight hint of apple. Apple pie. You feel like this is what you would smell if you were walking through the private garden of some large keep, and you passed under a window as a hulking shirtless kitchen boy put a steaming apple pie on the windowsill to cool.
"My power grows as my flock of Reborn grows. I would have given word sooner, but you always seemed surrounded by champions. I saw no opening, no moment when you were unguarded or alone. But now I see my apprehension was unneeded." He places a hand on your back and begins caressing your shoulders. Softly, carefully. Relax. His touch is warm and soft. Relax. He knows how to move his hands. Relax. He's done this before. He was obviously trained in it. Relax. There's no need for worry. Relax. You're safe now. Just then Thunk begins barking about loyalty to Tanard and Retzack looks confused. "That's odd. Why would he demand my fealty now when he has no power over me? That's like selling me a store with no stock. There's nothing he can offer me. There's no part of this that holds my intre--." The hand stops. He freezes. Realization comes. "You set this up with him. You knew of my desire and you now come, with no forewarning, in a coordinated effort to shackle me to your cause. This isn't about me. It's all about that dragon. ... Fine. Had you not made your duplicity so obvious it might have worked. I would have given myself to you freely, but now that I know I play your game, you shall play mine." He sighs. He feels honest loss. "The humans have ripped my tongue. Now kobolds have broken . . . my heart."
boring NPC stuff:
The threat from the humans seeming to have greatly diminished with the dissolution of the their armed forces, Retzack made sure that everyone got a hearty meal. As the various escaped slaves enter and utilize the ad hoc mess hall, Retzack makes sure to shake each hand in warm greeting, and to get every name and some personal detail nailed down in his immersive intellect. Each demi-human is made to feel that they are a part of something, that they are safe...that they are on the winning team. He tries to punctuate it as his two human minions see to -everyone's- needs. If it looks like a few ex-slaves would enjoy a demeaning speech like he had Bart give before the goblin, then that is done, by Bart, or Lily, or both, if need be. He tries to combine food and friendship and good cheer to make them know that while the kobolds care for Tanard and care about other goals, the goblin is down here, caring about them. Of course he's not corrupting their loyalty. He'd never dream of such. Just making it plain.
Retzack makes sure to gather the goblins around him and he fills their glasses himself from a bottle of strong liqueur he found amongst the wedding wreckage.
O! If we can but work together, then we shall ALL be chieftains! All of us shall have a tribe of our own! With vast, rich lands and gold and jewels and food enough to throw away. Doesn't that sound sweet, eh? You could handle that, eh? Just sit tight and we shall show those humans that their TRUE masters are at hand. Primo Victoria! Now...can I trust you?"
In time the keen-witted and trustworthy Smoog gathers Retzack, who has simply been milling away in the kitchen and mess hall, and they all meet in the Library to discuss long-term strategy. "Eh? Who is Krondor? What does he have to do with any of this? But whatever. I am but a poor, ignorant goblin and I do not have so great a calling as you all. Indeed, each of you have been divinely gifted, what with a real-live dragon and all. Were I to give opinion, and I realize I should not, so I will hold my tongue still, but if did I would just say something unforgivably primitive, like a desire to crush the humans before us and establish this city as a slavery-free zone, raising it up as a safe bastion for all demi-human kind.
Retzack pops in briefly to the main area. He's wearing an apron of some abyssal color that was once called 'green' and "k1ss teh cheph" is still somewhat visible on it's front. His hands are covered to the elbow in flour. He chats amicably with the newest recruits, assuring them that the savory smell of hot meats means that food will soon be served to the loyal Legions of Tanard.
He briefly pokes his head out the window as the cacophony explodes. "Hm. Someone has deliquesced the militant humans. Effective. Very, very wasteful, but effective." He scurries off, back to the kitchens.
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