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"I am ready to see more of this new land. Hopefully there are less bandits and more game." As before, Wetscale avoided the difficult discussion of what to do with the bandits they had. Others' opinions on the matter seemed to be stronger, and he didn't particularly have a taste for the topic to begin with.
Wetscale nods. "I am sorry. I just worry they will make the decision for us."
Wetscale nods and sets the potions down. "Thank you. I hope we never truly need them." He took a sip of his non-magical beverage. "What do we think of the mites and other bandits that may be around? Should we find them and drive them out? Or should we let them make themselves known before dealing with them?"
Wetscale chimes in with agreement. "You're right. The ring is a band of metal you can remake, but you will be much safer now that the bandit woman is dead." It was not the most tactful reply, but then Wetscale was not the most tactful person. In his eyes, he was happy she had "moved past" the ring. For as much as the sack of coin was likely to be worth, the lizardfolk had more desire for the second reward - the ale. It was a practical gift, and Wetscale was thirsty. He rose a hearty-sized amount to the group and downed it. By the way he grimaced slightly when he swallowed, it was clear he didn't have alcohol frequently enough to acclimate himself. It's not he was averse to it, but rather his difficulty fitting in and affinity for water made the ubiquitous rivers of the land a more convenient source. Wetscale hefted one potion of the pair. "How do these work? Are they like this drink? Will I feel them after a few glasses or hours?" He didn't open the elixir, but held it gingerly for someone his size and strength. His confusion genuine, it was clear adventuring had not been his forte.
Wetscale thanked the investigator. [/b]"He did not try to claim me as his own, so I can let his talk be. I just would not be around him when I can."[/b] His acclimation to such treatment gave Wetscale a greater patience for those people. In a eay, it was understandable; in their eyes, he was very alien to them. In looking glasses, the truth could not be more evident. Yet he hoped there was a common goodness between peopke. It was why Wetscale did not rush to judgment with the Mites. It was also why Kressle'S actions disappointed him so. He sought out Svetlaena to see if the ringless woman needed assistance with chores and the like.
Upon the uneventful return, much like what he expected the others might feel, Wetscale was at first fearful their greeter was a usurper of the violent variety. Though it turned out this man of House Garess was non-violent, he was a usurper nonetheless - words were his weapons. Yet that latter detail was beyond Wetscale's ken of diplomacy, so instead of responding with the guarded rejection and assertion Tyanos projected, Wetscale took the man's speech at face value. Initially, he was furious at the man, spreading his stance a bit in a readiness to intimidate him or fight him if need be. Simple lowborn. Counterintuitive to some, Wetscale had been used to being seen as a beast for so long, he expected to be treated as one. The man's patronizing tone bothered him more, as did his indirect assertion of him being better than others by virtue of his birth. Were Wetscale initially treated as a serf, he might have been acclimated to that reality, though his placement in a separate, lower caste of pseudo-"people" servants paradoxically opened his eyes to that injustice. "We are not your servants. We are friends of Oleg!" It was hard for him to get more words in edgewise though. The others were quicker with their speech, and it was well - at first because he was irate, but later because he was embarrassed. I am a burden to them. Hadin's words were heartwarming, but they only drove home Wetscale's feelings of inadequacy. He kept his mouth shut for the noble imposter henceforth, the humility trumping his rage.
Let's hope the mites still have Svetlana's ring. I guess Oleg and his wife will be happy to know some of the bandits will no longer pose a threat. "What would they want with a ring? It might not even fit them."
"Mites?" Wetscale tested out the word. "They do not sound dangerous. Why not let them be?"
Wetscale hadn't noticed the ambush, though the dance of diplomacy that followed after was somewhat more surprising. He never truly grasped the parley at arrowpoint between people, and his curiosity grew into mild astonishment at their opponent's relinquishment of his superior position at Hadin's words. Were I on my own, I would've had to fight or flee. Then again, they would have probably just shot him, he thought - ferocious-looking creatures didn't get second chances. So he made his first impression decidedly NOT that. He instead waved to them, knowing extending a clawed had often had the reverse-desired impression. "They call me Wetscale. Kressle's kind mentioned something about small blue people bothering them. Do you know who they might be?" Though not tactful in many regards, Wetscale had become adept at making himself seem less weird in a relative fashion over the years. If a tall, scaled warrior would be out of place, then perhaps blue raiding assassins would make him seem a bit more palatable to these new folk.
Wetscale shakes his head in dissent to Dendarial. "We have a prisoner, and he will make things difficult if we encounter another problem."
"It is just a trinket. There are other rings that can be made for her. She still has the husband. The loss could have been the other way around. She is lucky.
"Let us keep moving. I would not like to see what other new animals are around here." Wetscale didn't hate the bloodbats for what they were, but he had no desire to be a part of another safari. "Hopefully, nothing happened while we were away."
Wetscale looks at the fluid on his claws with caution. "I do not like the look of these birds." Whether they were birds or not, he didn't know, but it was the closest descriptor for them in his vocabulary.
These were no ordinary birds. What sort of predator attacked large prey from the skies at night? There is something wrong with this place... However, with no opposition in his heart, Wetscale didn't hesitate to react, shredding the nearest avian.
"I will take the first watch." Wetscale looked back to the man carried along with them. He will not be a problem, but what are these blue people? Wetscale had never heard of such a thing, and he hoped tonight wasn't the night he found out.
The opposite of Karina, Wetscale left the inquisition to those skilled at it. Moving into the remnants of the camp, there was a disturbing silence. Though he could have been ambushed, the lack of happenings was almost more worrisome. Perhaps someone else escaped like at Oleg's. They would need a more permanent defense in this lawless wild; nomadic chance would get them killed. Wetscale finds both a green liquor and a music box, expensive objects more fit for his old masters than these bandits. Though he had no interest in the ale, he had a soft spot for the artistic creation; Fondel had one of them...
Wetscale passes Hadin and Tyanos on the way to the banks. "If there are more though, they might not wait for this group to return. We must be quick about it." Heading to the river, he submerged himself a few times to wash off the blood and dirt before returning.
As angry as Wetscale was at the despicable bandits, being knocked-out had a halting effect on his ire. As Thomas lead them aside to work his healing, he felt greater restraint come over him. "You have done much already."
The man seemed a good mender, and though Wetscale was still rather injured, he had all his functionality back. [i]Which is good because there are likely more about. "Maybe with the woman dead they will not need to attack more."
I have parent-teacher conferences tomorrow, so feel free to NPC me. Assuming the foes don't attempt last-ditch offenses, Wetscale will not pursue/be hostile towards them.
Wetscale regained consciousness, though very sore, feeling the priest's hand against him. It would take him a few moments to regain his senses. All he could do is manage to stand - and to give his thanks. "Bless your soul, priest."
His eyes made a cursory glance to find Kressle unmoving on the ground. Good.
The woman was too fast for Wetscale - a remarkable feat considering his natural agility. Perhaps practice really did make perfect. The lizardfolk fell to the ground.
Her wicked blade digging into him, Wetscale hissed in pain. The blow was solid, and it would take some time to heal. Yet he had no time to waste; the deadly woman who liked to add insult to injury needed to be put down first.
The blow knocking his accuracy aside, his claws missed their mark. Hopefully, her axe will miss too...
As expected, it was Wetscale's unorthodox height above that seemed to save him from detection. Knowing he should put it to good use, he waited until one of the bandits walked past him before dropping onto the next one.
Their environment definitely had worked against them until this point. Missed arrows, getting ambushed in the first place ... their foes knew the ground better than they did. Yet if there was one thing Wetscale had learned in his time about the riverlands, it was what was beneath and above the surface was left unnoticed to many. Though his height afforded him poor cover at eye level, it was uncommon for people to look down or up. Hearing the voices, Wetscale chose the latter and scaled the nearest girthy tree, then was still.
Sure enough, it was arrows they used against them. We can't let them get back to their camp! Wetscale dashed after their assailants, pouncing on one if he could catch him.
"When we are ready, I will lead us forward. My scales will keep me safer from their arrows."
"Yes. If we head out now, they will expect us."
Fair enough. As I read, we are waiting for you/your falcon to return to us.
Wetscale enjoyed the pristine wilderness. Free of judgment and bountiful of resources, it seemed the area would make a find foundation for the time ahead. Yet it had to be purged first. As they approached the river, he gave it a glance in both directions. "If there is no wasted washed shore, I think they are downriver. I will see if anything is at the bottom." Doing just that, the amphibious reptile kept his eyes peeled for manmade debris; lack thereof was a good indicator their foes lay in one direction and not the other.
"I hope we can rid this place of them. Then things might go back to how they were." Yet for all the reversion he hoped for the bandits' presence, Wetscale enjoyed his new freedom. And these people see me as a person too. Their manners lead him to respect them out of volition, not necessity.
Wetscale remains focused on their hosts, hoping to speak of something more pleasant. "What was this land like before the bandits? Did you have many traders? Was the hunting good?" Right now, Wetscale knew little more than the climate and some vague geography; if they were to make their home here, a little more insight would help.
I rather like the squabbling disagreement; a leader would remove much of it.
Oleg's speech with the exaggerations was amusing to Wetscale, but the man's mention of guards coming was sobering. We'd better be on our way. "Thank you for sharing your food and drink with us." The man might be brash, but he was honest.
As the inquisition proceeded, it was clear to Wetscale these bunch were talkers - much like the nobles which had lorded over him in his path. Even the captured elf had quite a speech. Is everyone a diplomat now? Though the monk felt bad for the youths, he harbored no mercy towards their master; the man as as evil as they came. As his life drained away, his steely eyes gazing in stubbornness back at Karina were proof enough of that for him. Yet hate him as he may, there as truth in his words: A greater predator was always out there. At dinner, he reminded the group of that last point, dousing the banter a touch perhaps. "Karina, you did what should have been done with their leader. Thank you." The manners were perhaps not well-suited to the topic, but subservience was common in Wetscale's history. "But those escaped will bring others to strike at us. I think we should take the fight to them. Otherwise they catch us off-guard." While no master of a battlefield, the lizardfolk was a master of agility and understood counterweights, even if he couldn't put it into words. If they push us first, we fall where they make us. If we push them, we choose the direction of things.
The giant reptile gazed down at the youth reacting in fear and blinked slowly. I have no desire to eat these people... Such misconceptions were common though. It was part of the reason the nobles had visitors observe him, Wetscale learned. He wasn't about to put truth to that suspicion though. With the latest disclosure, he asked the youth one question: "This fortress ... what is it made of?" His speech - probably a surprise in and of itself for the man - was, perhaps unexpectedly, slow and calm. In a queer twist of circumstance, the terrain here was quite similar to that of where a substantial number of his kind were known to live. Maybe they have similar structures... Wetscale's inquiry was aimed at curing his curiosity about his heritage as it was tactically determining how hard of an obstacle it was that lay against them. As Thomas gives his verdict, the monk gives a silent nod of agreement.
As Pudge exited, Wetscale looked down at him. He was likely to give the man a shock, but the feeling wasn't mutual - his was more of curiosity. There's so much open land out here. Why resort to theft? Before the next is brought in, he steps inside with the others. "I have climbed to their roof. I could not see any scout of theirs running, but there are many trees. It will be difficult to find them without help. They may also ambush us if we must go through the forest."
While able to hear some talking within, Wetscale could not make out the words. It was probably for the better anyway - he didn't want the choices here to be harder than they had to be.
Regrettably, that is our scaly friend's domain. GM Helio has weakness to spreadsheets. Permissions should be fixed.
Woo! Loot sheet now available at the top of the page. Thanks, lizard-bro. *slurp*
Apologies, here you go. Crude at present, but I'm not sure what people desires for formatting. Editing permissions should be on. Assume Wetscale fills you in about the scout and absence thereof, lizardlisp aplenty.
Unfortunately, no glimpse of the scout was available. But the land here seems good. It was a bit exciting to Wetscale to see so much uninhabited land. That's really why they were here: to start something for themselves. Refreshed, he descended from the ground and made his way to the outside of the stable. He'd seen some milling about with the place, so he didn't want to disrupt anything delicate inside. Upon meeting-up with his cofoudners though, he indicated the absence of detecting the runners.
Wetscale was glad to have removed himself from those proceedings. He could hear the earlier squabbles, but they trailed off. A pang of worry struck him when the watchman was mentioned. Well, I am to fix this roof anyway...
The agile fighter made his way up to the top of the tallest structure, partially to inspect it, but moreso to get a lay of the land around. And maybe catch a glimpse of their scout.
Karina was leading one of them to the stables. It was an odd change of ways; in the past, Wetscale had been the one to tend to the horses. Although there weren't others' to tend to, he was sure the prisoner would soon wish he were a horse instead.
For all of us!
Wetscale is no debater. On a RL note, I'll be scarce this weekend through Wednesday afternoon due the midterms. Posting still, just less frequently.
Wetscale looked back towards their path of entry. "Ask them too if there are others like them - and where they made their camp. We can claim it for ourselves. Even if it is small, it may ward off their rivals if they have some." The monk was not a specialist in politics, but he did know a show of dominance would lessen forays from other bandits.
Wetscale stands guard over the boss, ready to strike him against if he was feigning.
I've been told it has the feel of Civilization mechanics in a theme that doesn't mesh with the series. Given the 2-D hex map, technology tree-->web, factions, requests, and pseudo-individualization of units, I am seeing much alteration and little augmentation - which is why I viewed it as an expansion. This made me surprised by the $50 price tag, so I will probably take Helio's advice and wait until the sales come around.
Though still regaining his balance, Wetscale's eyes saw the archer was the true threat among them. But perhaps they wanted him alive for questioning? He closed the distance between the two of them and made to knock out the man.
The torch across the spine only served to steel the lizardfolk's resolve. He turned on the luminous assailant with both claws.
Wetscale was no stranger to hiding, but his use as a hunting "dog" also had its uses here. He knew the drill: Wait until the arrows had been loosed, then charge in for the pounce. The smug leader needed to be de-saddled by claw, he felt. And hopefully they won't hit the horses - they've done nothing wrong.
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