Ahnekhet doesn't back down in the face of Almah's anger, but Lotus' gentle touch and Dashki's grunts do seem to calm the towering elf. As Almah speaks, Ahnekhet levels a whithering glare at Dashki.
Search Posts
Lotus' words seem to fall on deaf ears as Almah rivets her eyes to Ahnekhet and Ahnekhet alone. The tension in the room becomes as palpable and oppressive as the midday desert sun, and even the ever-calm Garavel seems hesitant to break the ensuing silence. But in that time frame, however long or short it was, the crackling fire that raged behind Almah's huge, brown eyes sputtered and died - replaced by cold, hard flint. It is as you say, Ahnekhet, her voice finally comes, though in an even whisper. I have brought you here for the sake of my family, but you are wrong if you believe that this is all for the sake of my legacy. She begins to turn toward the northern window and then seems to think better of it. With a momentary hesitation, she instead walks a few steps to one of the sturdier benches in the chapel sanctuary and sits down facing you. Garavel walks slowly to her side and places a hand on her shoulder. For a few moments she is lost in thought, and then she speaks, this time quite clearly. What happened in Kelmarane is a secret guarded closely by the Pactmasters themselves, for reasons that I neither know nor care to find out. You were not informed because it is a precondition for the re-establishment of Kelmarane that I keep it a secret - even from you. In fact, if I were to tell you, Garavel was to kill me on the spot, and then kill all of you, but... she looks at Garavel fondly, there are some things even the spells of the Pactmasters cannot prevent. At your side, a low growl issues from the throat of Dashki. Almah and Garavel seem not to notice. Her gaze returns to the four of you. I am paying you with the last of my inheritance from my grandfather. It is more dear to me than you can possibly imagine, and the conditions with which I will part with it are mine and mine alone. I will make the final decision as to what we do with these gnolls and you, Dashki, she fixes the mongrel with a wilting stare. But it is the mark of a fool to act or speak without first considering all of the implications, her gaze swings to Ahnekhet. Dashki snickers, but falls silent and stares forlornly at the ground as both Almah and Garavel lock their eyes on him. Almah sighs, then continues. I regret my earlier tone and I apologize, but my question remains. The flind and his minions are not dead, but stand within our hold. I suspect you have your reasons and I would like to hear them before I make my decision. She looks at you expectantly.
GM's Advice:
When you are within the confines of the sanctuary, far enough away from the guards and mercenaries to be heard, Almah whirls around with ferocity evident in her large eyes. What in the name of the gods were you thinking bringing them here?!
Almah looks expectantly at Siraaj for an explanation, but finds none forthcoming. With a shake of her head, as if to clear her thoughts, she glances around the promenade one more time. Her eyes briefly scan the gnolls and Narg for weapons, but she sees none. Trevvis, search them for weapons and remove any they have on them. Her tone is one of finality, and Trevvis does not argue. A quick search and pat-down, which the gnolls grudgingly endure, reveals only slings and a handful of bullets on three of the gnolls. The rest of their weaponry has apparently been left out in the sands. As Trevvis finishes his task, Almah gestures to her guards and the mercenaries. Watch them. If they so much as growl, castrate them and then kill them. She turns to the four of you and Dashki. Come, we must discuss this, and she and Garavel lead the way back to the sanctuary.
Almah marches to within ten feet of your group, still holding her scimitar and visibly seething. Her eyes glitter dangerously and it is obvious by her grip on the scimitar and the position in which she holds it that she has used her blade before. Garavel steps up beside her and Trevvis stands a step behind her, just to her left, with his bow still drawn and an arrow loosely nocked. From the southern hallway, two pactmaster guards enter the promenade, weapons drawn and ready. two more emerge from the sanctuary in similar fashion. Almah's gaze passes over the mangy gnolls and lingers on the impressive and repulsive figure of Narg. In the better light of the monastery's interior, the Flind's various scars and piercings come into jarring focus. Three humanoid jawbones, in various stages of decay, pierce through both his thick hide and muscle in his right shoulder. What appear to be the claws and teeth of a dire leopard trace his pectorals, with the massive canines thrust gaudily through the meat at the center of his chest, parallel to his sternum. Most of the flesh of his ears is missing, the holes filled with rings of semi-precious metal and the bones of other victims. In the light, however, it is not the flind's fleshly accessories that jar those who look upon him as much as his eyes. Rather than having dark pupils, like those of his kin, his eyes are a milky blue color with the edges of his pupils nearly indistinct from the rest of his eye. Sandscourge remains where he stands, leaving his hands raised. He holds the woman's gaze and speaks. I am Narg, the Sandscourge, servant of the Three Jaws. We come at the will of Hakkur, our chieftain, in answer to our brother Dashki's request. Together we will pour and drink the blood of the Kuldis gnolls! Some of the fire goes out of Almah's eyes, replaced by surprise and confusion. Her gaze shifts to the bound Dashki, who hangs limply and breathing heavily in the grasp of Siraaj. ...Brother, Dashki? Seeing the woman's gaze upon him, Dashki squirms weakly. Almah... he gasps, They... I brought you aid... and this... and they... this monster, he weakly attempts to flail one leg at Siraaj, missing him, ... he... he tried to kill me, Almah. With a weak cough he spits blood from his torn lips into a foamy puddle on the worked stone floor. Almah shakes her head in bewilderment, sweeping her gaze back over the gnolls, their leader, and her bound and bedraggled scout. What the... Will someone please tell me what is going on here? Her scimitar point drops to the floor.
Dashki grimaces as his head ricochets off of the worked stone with a subdued thud. A look of genuine shock and, for a brief moment, fear, replace the smoldering anger, and his protestations choke off in his suddenly dry throat. He whimpers slightly as Siraaj hauls him off of the wall and hangs limply over his shoulder as the large man roughly hauls him inside. As Ahnekhet and the gnolls arrive, shortly after the trio has entered the monastery with their bound captive, Dashki casts a plaintive look at the Flind, whose arms remain raised. Narg, seeing Dashki trussed up and slung ingloriously over Siraaj's shoulder, cannot resist a howl of glee at the man's plight. His laugh is cut short as he remembers his place and situation, but he grins wickedly at Dashki's dagger-like glare. Suddenly, as the party finishes trickling into the monastery, the unmistakable voice of Almah cuts as hot as the mid-day desert wind through the cool night air: What in the cursed bowels of every bloody hell is this?! Looking up, the party sees Almah - Garavel and Trevvis a step or two behind - double-timing up the hallway, her scimitar drawn and angled dangerously at her side.
Dashki's bout of laughter suddenly ceases mid-guffaw as Siraaj begins to drag him through the dust and gravel back to the monastery. Flopped ingloriously on his face, he spits venomous curses at his captors, most of which are unintelligible through the mouthfuls of dirt he is forced to take in when he opens his lips to speak. His voice becomes increasingly shrill the closer you get to the monastery, and as you round the southwestern corner he manages to turn his head to one side and scream with primal rage, I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU ALL!
If you can find it, I'll wear it.
Dashki glares over his shoulder at Lotus as she gives chase and lights up the area with her divine magics. His glare quickly turns to panic as Siraaj quickly takes up the chase, his quarry now clearly visible. His long strides quickly overtake the smaller man, but his clumsy attempt to grab Dashki leaves only empty desert air in his embrace. Siraaj:
As Siraaj recovers from his failed attempt he finds that Dashki has come to a dead stop and is looking at him with a queer grin that is slowly growing wider. A sudden giggle tears from the dark man's throat like a hiccup and before Siraaj can react Dashki doubles over, gales of manic laughter shattering the silence of the desert night. Dashki, despite the gleeful sounds he is making, has a look of sheer panic in his eyes - as though he has completely lost control of his body. With an ecstatic hoot he drops onto his back in the dry soil.
Narg looks surprised at Ahnekhet's words. His beady, jaundiced eyes leap to the deadly serious figure approaching him and take in his set jaw, tense forearmed, and - most visibly - the mold tattoo that weaves up the arm wielding Tempest. For a moment, the Flind's bravado fades and his wounds seem more prominent. The change is temporary and brief. The bones of Thakkur bleach in the sun with the bones of his father. The monster rises to his feet, keeping his hands on his head. Even at this distance, it's clear he stands a head taller than the elf. He straddles the bar he had previously cast to the ground. His guts lie in the guts of Hakkur and his strength is in the arms of Hakkur. Hakkur sets his eyes on the end of the Kuldis tribe and the Userper, so he sends the Sandscourge to see that his will is done. Narg looks from Ahnekhet to his weapon and back again. He clearly does not want to leave it behind. Behind him, the gnolls rise to their feet in similar fashion, ready to follow their leader.
Dashki takes off into the gloom of night, heading northeast into the desert.
As soon as Dashki feels the grip of the larger man relax a barely perceptible grin flits across his dry lips. In a tone ripe with venom he spits, Fool, eh? Takes one to know one, Camel-sack. Turning with the speed and agility of a desert hare, he attempts a tumbling leap to the side, away from his captors.
Trevvis holds his position for a moment as he watches Ahnekhet approach the gnolls and begin to talk to them. He keeps an arrow drawn and trained in that direction as he slowly begins to back toward the monastery, uncertain of how acute the monsters' vision is in the dark.
Narg maintains his crouched and subservient position. His body is twisted slightly from watching the hapless, formerly fleeing gnoll. He offers a snarl and a spat Runt! at the dying beast, then turns in the direction the arrows have been coming from. The vermin of Kelmarane are not fit to be called gnolls! They let themselves be ruled by one who is not a gnoll. Together we will slaughter them, bathe in their blood and feast on their young! The gnolls behind him howl in unison at his pronouncement, then continue staring uneasily into the darkness around them. The raspy gasps for breath from the deserting gnoll continue, growing ever farther apart.
Dashki does not resist as Siraaj steers him toward the monastery entrance. He makes eye-contact with Nadia as they pass, but does not speak. His chest is still heaving.
IX didn't work, either. Better go with both, and maybe throw in the ability to invert your eyelids, and upgrade to X.
IX?! IX?! That's way beyond your level!
In all seriousness though, I am also strongly considering having his next favored enemy selection be influenced by Vardishal. Would there be a suitable enemy type that Vardishal would have encountered frequently in that ancient war? Outsiders. Of the lawful, evil, or fire variety.
Ahnekhet:
A foreign shudder passes through your body at the mention of the Three Jaws tribe.
It is the custom of the Three Jaws to bury their trophies of battle in their flesh. The more gruesome and painful the disfigurement, and the more numerous the amount of piercings, the greater respect the individual gnoll is afforded within the tribe. This more sets them apart from the other gnolls of the Pale Mountain region. As this realization sets in, you notice various objects glittering in the hides of the gnolls, reflecting the spastic torchlight. Narg's hide is the most pierced and stretched of the group before you.
Ahnekhet's arrow streaks into the night after the fleeing gnoll, taking it through the back of the neck and lodging there as soon as the fletching reaches the gnoll's thick hide. The tip and two-thirds of the arrow protrude, bloody and glistening in the moonlight from just beneath the foul creature's lower jaw. The beast's tongue lolls out between it's pronounced canines as it tries to scream, but no sound emanates from the impaled windpipe and voicebox. The gnoll flops awkwardly to the ground and sucks breath in horrible, raspy gasps. Limbs spasm for a brief moment, one arm reaching for the arrow, grabbing it in disbelief, then flopping back to the dust. The gnoll lies still, the ragged, labored breathing growing shallower. Trevvis grins as he watches the gnoll squirm and then lie still. He listens intently to the gasping, then snaps back to reality as he processes what Ahnekhet has just told him. He turns his head to make eye contact with him, his already small eyes narrowing to slits. Gettin' awful big for your boots, there, Longears. You want a pow-wow wit' the mongrels, you do it. I prefer my hide attached t'me.
The Flind is now breathing in a somewhat labored fashion. His head nods forward slightly and he growls something into his chest. DC: 15:
Brother Dashki... Why? ... It's a trap ... Why? ... Then, with a furious howl, he pitches forward onto his knees, placing his hands behind his massive canine head. He glares angrily in the direction the arrows are coming from, searching the darkness beyond his vision in vain. Enough! I am Narg the Sandscourge! We come from the Three Jaws Tribe. We are here to help you slaughter the gnolls of Kelmarane! The gnolls behind him gawk for a moment at the flind's posture and look confusedly at each other. Then, one by one, they kneel behind him and place their hands behind their heads in similar fashion - all of them, that is, except for the last. With a snarl of disgust, he turns and begins to run northeast into the desert wastes. He is followed by the harsh, angry syllables of a gnoll curse spat from the mouth of the flind. If you speak gnoll:
Roughly translated: May we beat the maggots to your rotting corpse!
Dashki squirms and kicks madly in Siraaj's firmly locked grasp. His words become garbled and shorten into growls and snarls. Nature DC: 13: The sounds Dashki is making are the sounds of a cornered animal - specifically like those of a hyena. They are also the sounds that an enraged gnoll makes in combat. Linguistics DC: 10:
Dashki is using linguistic elements common to the speech of gnolls. The sounds he is making are typically used by gnolls in combat to coax other gnolls into a frenzy. His movements become savage and he fights with a strength his wiry form belies. Escape Artist Check: Despite the furious motions of the small man, Siraaj keeps his arms locked and will not let him free.
Ahnekhet's third arrow thuds viciously into the gut of the flind, and it a grunt spouts from it mouth, followed by a trickle of blood. The massive, hideous creature staggers back a step, but keeps his arms raised in surrender. Trevvis can't hide a smirk and he similarly ignores the gesture of nonviolence offered them. He sends another arrow screaming toward the gnolls.
Had the flind stood his ground after taking Ahnekhet's arrow, Trevvis' arrow would have nestled neatly in his left eye. Instead, the projectile whistles harmlessly past his head and vanishes into the night.
The wounded flind glares in disgust at the arrows jutting from his shoulders, drawing a heavy bar from a sheath on his back, and immediately throwing it to the ground at his feet. He makes a crude gesture toward the plains east of the monastery and raises his hands in a posture of nonviolence. Enough! He bellows, spit and froth launching from his teeth. The gnolls behind him raise their hands in similar fashion. They have all come to a halt.
Siraaj grabs Dashki roughly and hauls him up against the monastery wall. The putrid man grunts in surprise and blinks repeatedly. The surprise quickly fades, however, and the cold, dispassionate glimmer returns to his eyes. Take your mangy hands off me, you damned ox! Those are gnolls of the Three Jaws tribe -- they are here to help us kill the gnolls of Kelmarane! He squirms a little, uncomfortable in the big man's grasp. Whose brilliant idea was it to start shooting?! Call them off before they start attacking us!
Initiative:
Before the gnolls can gather their wits and assemble a sufficient defense, Ahnekhet quickly pulls a second arrow and fires. His arrow takes the flind in the left shoulder this time, perfectly symmetrical to the first arrow he fired. A pink froth begins to form at the gum line of the beast as it snarls angrily into the darkness. Trevvis follows suit, sending another arrow at the gnoll beginning to resemble a pin-cushion.
His shot falls short of the intended target, burying itself to the fletching in sand two feet in front of the flind.
Man! I knew Dashki was going to be out here! I cannot be held responsible if Ahnekhet fills him with arrows. You can be, and you will be.
Combat Order:
Initiatives: Flind: Gnolls: Dashki:
** spoiler omitted **
Ahnekhet:
From his hiding place in the shadows, Ahnekhet whispers the incantation necessary for his spell and then lets loose a lone arrow. The projectile streaks toward the lead gnoll, who despite the torches he carries is unaware of the danger he is in. The arrow takes him in the shoulder, just above his breastplate, causing him to drop the torch he grasps in his right hand. The torch sputters in the gravel and the flames dance wildly before dying out. Haaaaaaargh!!! The flind growls, and he quickly drops the second torch, grabbing his wounded shoulder and glancing in irritation at the shaft protruding from it. Deep red blood is visible in a thin rivulet beginning to trace the contour of his armor. Immediately Trevvis lets loose an arrow of his own (). Even in the darkness he gets off an accurate shot, taking the flind high in the chest, nearly pinning his left arm to his breastplate. The metal plate on his chest prevents the arrow from piercing one of the gnoll's lungs, possibly even his heart, and limits the damage to a flesh wound. At the arrival of a second arrow, the gnoll simply glares at it without making a sound, and then peers into the darkness in the direction from which they came. The gnolls behind him glance nervously to the east and west, and one of them peers south, but they do not drop the torches or break formation. Siraaj: Creeping slowly and as quietly as possible from the southern face of the monastery, Siraaj begins to carefully make his way toward the crouching Dashki. As he does, he slowly brings his meteor hammer into a ready position.
At a distance of 15 feet, Dashki suddenly stirs and Siraaj tenses, ready to unleash full fury on the wiry man, but Dashki appears engrossed in the plains to the north and gives no indication that he hears anything. Instead, he begins to angle the dagger blade and tilt it forward and back to slight degrees. The movement at first seems odd, but Siraaj soon realizes that the man is giving off a signal - reflecting the moonlight off of his blade.
Siraaj closes the remaining distance hurriedly, reaching for Dashki's shoulder, but as he takes the final step, Dashki suddenly leaps to his feet - What? Who shot? Wait -- WAIT! His voice is shrill and agitated. Siraaj's hand pauses merely inches from his shoulder.
Ahnekhet:
You and Trevvis make your way out into the plains north of the monastery. You close as near to the incoming gnolls as you dare and then crouch, waiting for them to close to the desired distance. Trevvis, for his part, does an admirable job of keeping pace with you and maintaining some silence.
The gnolls draw nearer and nearer and give no indication that they sense your presence. They continue to regularly glance east of the monastery and periodically over their shoulders.
As Lotus, Siraaj, and Nadia reach the southeast corner of the monastery, all three peek cautiously around to the eastern side. Unfortunately, Lotus can make out very little in the night. The plains to the east are dotted with shrubbery and shadows, but she sees no movement - nothing that would appear to be of any interest to a gnoll. Siraaj: Siraaj eases up to the corner of the monastery and cautiously slips his head around the corner, taking in the eastern plains and monastery wall. His sister and Lotus do the same, but the sharp eyes of Siraaj and Nadia are able to pick out the most detail. The ground slopes gently away from the eastern wall and flattens out about twenty feet from their location. Various dry bushes and weeds cast long, strange shadows in the soft light of the moon, but nothing is thick enough to provide cover -- at least not for an encroaching force.
But as the brother and sister scan the terrain, a slight, barely perceptible movement at the base of the wall near the northeast corner of the monastery catches their eyes. Both of them snap their gazes to that point simultaneously and are able to make out the crouching form of a human. The man is facing away from them, engrossed in watching something to the north, but they do not need to see his face to know who he is -- Dashki! As recognition dawns on them, both of them see Dashki slowly reach a hand into his baggy jerkin and withdraw a dagger, his eyes still locked on the northern plains.
My inspiration for birds came from seeing Ryan Stiles imitate one in Whose Line is it, Anyway?. Thank you for the encouragement. Communicating subtleties is something that I make an effort to do, rather than just telling you outright or after the fact. Personally, I get more satisfaction out of it and I'm glad that you do, too.
Siraaj, Nadia and Lotus follow the walls of the monastery south, then east along the southern face. As they pass the window into the old dining hall, a figure just inside draws breath sharply and jumps a bit, cursing under its breath. Damnation! Whispers the figure, and you realize it's just one of the guards, either Fixx or Keldon. I thought you lot were an ambush! Lucky I didn't put an arrow in you - I'm not the best shot, but I can't miss you from here! Anyway, I've just sent Keldon back to report. No sign of anything this direction. You reach the corner of the southern face of the monastery and the eastern plains lie before you - along with whatever it was the gnolls seemed to be looking for.
Ahnekhet:
Trevvis:
|