| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Ritti is both curious... and appalled. "Wait. Can they do that? Turning animals into like zombies and such?" She considers the problem. They couldn't stop the caravan. Trying to figure a safe path around the 'herd' might be just as dangerous. She looks to Sandru, "Sooo, it seems like someone is gonna need to sneak over there to take a peek right? Figure out if these are wounded animals or 'zom-bison' or whatever."
The large half-orc stops the lad with a raised, meaty hand. He throws the saddlebags from the messenger’s horse over one shoulder before unstrapping the large chest on the mule. Improbably, he hefts it onto his other shoulder with a grunt. ”Now you can take the animals. Thanks.” With some effort, Hûnidark lugs his burden into the Inn and glances around… looking to see how many have hard eyes for a half-orc in their midst. It wouldn’t be the first time a tavern wouldn’t serve him or some fool with more balls than brains picked a fight.
Ritti grits her teeth at Sandru’s request - being inspiring was definitely outside her wheelhouse. But his attitude of late had shown the slim signs of a possible thaw so she was willing to make a fool of herself to maybe earn a little respect. Besides, she was Varisian and knew the importance of a good attitude when the road got rough… So, she tries a bit of everything: The thief starts with talk and tall tales among the caravanners. ”Yeah, it’s cold and kinda scary but I tell you I’ve made it through worse. This one time I was hired to steal a Frost Giant’s snowballs… let me tell you I grabbed the wrong pair on the first go…”
After that, she starts luring people into exercising with her, trying to make it a game. ”’S colder than a white witch’s teat out here! Keep moving to stay warm. Let’s dance!” She makes a point of dragging anyone who was vaguely friendly with her into a dance, and then anyone interested in them. Once she has a few dancers, she expands it into a game of misdirection – dancing and trying to quickly switch hats with other dancers with only the audience noticing.
”As for Lugruk," he spits on the tied up goblin, "let him rot. I owe neither him nor Zuka anything." Purely on instinct, Moon lowers her blade and signals Erigga to lower her bow a bit. She steps toward Krosk and wipes her blade clean with some snow. ”That’s fine. You’d be making trouble for Lugruk and maybe Zuka if you did let some of their scouts know you are leaving this fight… but that is your decision.” "Dik know nothing... Dik harmless. Dik no trouble." She looks to the unhelpful goblin for a long moment before pointing her blade at him. ”If you want to be free, don’t lie to us again. You aren’t clever enough to do it.” Moon turns her attention back to Krosk, ”May I see the map? And what can you tell us about this meeting?”
Moon glances at the prisoners and takes a quarter-step – making sure the two most wounded ones are within the range of her sword. Given they are next to each other, she might be able to slice them both with a single stroke. She replies almost sympathetically to Honey, ”You aren’t going to die unless Krosk makes another mistake.” She turns to the self-proclaimed God of Sexiness and matches his dark tone. ”You don’t make demands here. That was a mistake. Don’t do it again. Your ladies are under our weapons until an agreement is reached. Now, shall we talk?”
”The ladies have told us that you have a map we could use to find Lugruk and the other leaders. They want to exchange that and other information for their lives. For their freedom, we’ll need more. They also said they would try to convince you to walk away from this fight. My questions for you are simple: Will you leave this fight and not attack us or the town? If you do leave, will you let Lugruk’s army know or just vanish?”
Have also added an XP Tracker to the Campaign tab gang. woo hoo! Just 1604 XP more to L2!
He also moves closer to Moon and whispers "I share your outrage, and if you like, I will also share my pants. You'd have to cut off a section of the length, but I got spare breaches if you want something to cover up, keep you a bit warmer." A half-smile crosses the half-elf's face, despite her anger. Not quite how I planned on getting into his pants, but... Moon glances down to see what she's exposing. Her pants are ragged but not irreparable. She puts a hand on his arm for seemingly no reason at all. "I may take that offer for a little while... Betz, Maidie, you repaired my clothes before. Do either of you have that spell currently? I'm catching a draft."
Moon paces like a caged animal. ”We want everything you know about Lugruk, his location, his plans, his alliances and how strong they are. Why did you join this fight? Also, anything you know about a goblin called Meep… to start.”
Round 2 Moon ignores her torn pants… and the goblin’s plea. This was a day for crimson skies. She hears Grob’s voice and knows he and Betz are still alive, so the goblin gets the mercy of a swift and heavy blow. Moon slashes at the creature's neck.
BOOM:
Status: HP: 35 / 35 | AC:19 / T:14 / FF:15 | CMD:22/18
Arrows (45): Blunts (45): Iron Arrows (3): Human Bane Arrows (3): Lead Blades (1): Hero Points (3): Kassen Battle Boon: 1x Kassen Death Boon: 1x
Shaggar chuffs his disagreement. "Our luck is good. No one dead and few injuries." He takes a hold of one of the levers and motions the others to get to the other one. When they are ready, he cranks the lever open as the metal squeals in protest.
Round 1: Moon & Histya
At the explosion and heat wave behind her, the ranger involuntarily ducks then glances back over her shoulder to assess the damage. Betz is down, possibly dead. Grob is badly burned. Only Maidie and Erigga seems unscathed. She turns back to glare at the goblins standing before her. Arnama had taught her well – Anger can be valuable when put to constructive uses. She taps the cat and points at the goblin in the open snow. ”Make me proud. Tear that whore’s throat out.”
The cat crouches and growls, tail swishing. She takes two long bounds across the snow before leaping at the goblin, tail windmilling to keep her perfectly balanced in the air. Claws seem to spring from all four paws and her bared teeth seek the goblin’s throat as she lands on the small creature in a tumble of blood and snow.
HISTYA BOOM:
Moon follows along the cat’s path more slowly before ducking beneath the tree to attack the other goblin. She wasn’t sure which goblin had thrown the fireball, but it was important to engage as many as possible. Without preamble, she speaks the word that sends lightning coursing along the length of her blade and slashes at the little git before her.
MOON BOOM:
Histya Status:
HP: 18 / 18 | AC:17 / T:16 / FF:12 | CMD:16/11 Moon Status: HP: 35 / 35 | AC:19 / T:14 / FF:15 | CMD:22/18
Arrows (45): Blunts (45): Iron Arrows (3): Human Bane Arrows (3): Lead Blades (1): Hero Points (3): Kassen Battle Boon: 1x Kassen Death Boon: 1x
Well, being friends is always preferable...
"Can't be that bad..." Moon's eyebrow rises at that hopeful assessment. "I agree with circling around, but you should pray they don't have spellslingers or alchemists."
Ritti looks at Ameiko briefly before turning her attention to the group in general, weighing the choices. ”I came late to this party, so I don’t know the skullduggery that happened before me or all the ‘eyes’ that are worrying you folks. So, to me, deciding the best path hinges on one question: What d’you see as the biggest danger? If enemies finding you is more of a threat than rough terrain and running low on food… then we should take the north path. If a blade is coming for you, best not to let it find you. But, if you think being spotted is less a problem than a hungry belly and a chance to get supplies before the crossing, then we should take the familiar path.” She shrugs, ”Sorry, if that was no help.”
I don’t have any complaints. I think momentum is important to a game. Related to Yuto’s point – especially if you feel that the pacing is lagging – I’m fine with you pushing things along without giving people days to respond. If any player missed their window to have a conversation, they can throw it in a spoiler and the NPC can do likewise. That way the action isn’t slowed down by a conversation that only involves a single player. Corollary to that, IMO, pacing is the responsibility of everyone in the game, not just the GM. So, if I’m slowing something down, please drop me an AHEM publicly or privately and I’ll try to jump into the game as quickly as I can.
The echoes of the fighting and the dropping body distract our furry hero...
Huni assists with the grisly search. He looks at the messenger's capsa. "I suppose we should open this to see where we need to deliver it."
Ritti steadfastly avoids philosophizing. ”The giant is dead. The wolf is badly wounded… and may or may not come at us again. It said it would leave us alone until it was fully healed up. That might take a week. Yuto pressed it to agree to leave us be or die right then. Maybe it lied. Maybe it told the truth. Its pal was just killed so emotions were runnin’ high. In the cold light of a new day, it’ll know it’s alone and we put down its pal – hard. It can seek vengeance and most likely die for it or it can go on living. I’d opt for living, but I ain’t a wolf. My advice is we get this caravan rolling and get as much distance as we can, maybe even get out of its territory, before it is healed enough to take a good go at us.” ”As for the fella in the wagon… without looking closely to figure out what et him, my bet is on the giant and wolf. The wagon seems like the larder the giant used to store his… food.”
I can use the scimitar and the smaller expert blades but there really isn't a point to it unless we run into some monster that is immune to getting punched in the face. :) So, I'm happy to let anyone who can use <weapon x> get first and second dibs.
Best wishes to you and yours, Rannock. I’ve built and updated a loot sheet, accessible from my profile and character header.
“Nice shot,” he called out, his drawl carrying down to Samara. “Next time, save me one to chase, eh?” Samara gives the archer a friendly wave to acknowledge the compliment. She wasn’t quite sure if his question was a subtle part of the compliment or a genuine request. ”Umm… OK, next time.”
”I don’t think any more fingers need to be pointed. Rissa acknowledges that she was in the wrong.” She turns to the gnome and continues, ”I’m sure you know as well as I do that Tunfer is going to require you to undertake some kind of penance, and he will be right to do so. I’m disappointed, too, Rissa.” The anger doesn’t leave the Bedine woman’s stance or face - which is somewhat hidden by her veil. Men were dead - broken at the base of the wall - along with four (in this case) innocent wyverns. And Samara had no small part in making those latter deaths happen. Guilt fueled her anger. And it seemed the gnome’s only punishment was going to be soft words. Little wonder she had gotten into trouble before; she had faced no real consequences. The Dalelands were not Anauroch, that much was clear. And Samara had no place imposing her views about ‘proper’ punishment… so she suppressed her anger and concentrated on memorizing the face of the egg-thief. If they met, there would be a reckoning.
Hûnidark emerges from the redoubt slightly confused and shaking the bone-dust from his gauntlet, ”Why did they run?”
"Whoever you are, come out. I don't care for ambushers." Well, sh!t… Ritti stays exactly where she is, back pressed to the armored wagon, and replies in Skald, ”Yeah? I don’t like ambushers either… and that cost your friend his life. And stepping out to give you an easy target for your anger is just plain stupid, so no I’m not doing that. Also, I’m going to move as soon as I finish talking to keep you on your toes.” She lets that hang for a moment before continuing. ”I’m a ‘do-er’ not a ‘talker’, as you can probably tell. So, let’s keep this honest and simple as I like… I think maybe both sides bungled this meeting. But gnawing on that question don’t make anyone less dead. So – seems to me – the only important question is what happens to you now?” ”These folks want to get back on the trail and keep our caravan safe. But you seem like you might carry a grudge and that’s the problem. We’re safer if you’re dead and can’t come after us when and where you want. You're a predator, I'm not telling you anything you don't know. So, can you let this go? Can you convince these folks you’ll let this go… or should we get to killing?” True to her word, Ritti slinks around the wagon.
The thief waits silently to see how this moment plays out. If they could be assured the wolf would leave them alone, she was happy to 'live and let live'. But it was hard to trust a giant, ice-breathing, presumably evil warg to stick to an agreement.
Oh Druid, what a pity you don't understand.
The curiously dressed woman notes the explosions and glances at the tower from behind her khimar (veil). She seems no more surprised by them than any of the locals. She had visited Dagger Falls twice before and information was her stock and trade (one way or another). So, she had heard the tales of the Constable’s Tower and its importance to Lord Morn. But that was not her business this day.
The slender woman walks gracefully into the meeting room, her white abaya (robe) and tan bisht (outer cloak) whispering across the floor. Little can be seen of her between her floor-length robe, the hood/scarf that wraps her head before trailing down her back, and the fine black veil covering her face. What can be seen are olive-skinned, sand-roughened hands and a hint of a long mane of wavy black hair peeking out from beneath the trailing end of her hijab (hood/scarf) somewhere near her knees – one would guess. With a bit of effort and patience, the contours beneath her veil can be seen. She has a pretty but unexceptional face marked by penetrating black eyes. She debates sitting and then is drawn – like iron filings to a magnet – to the side table. She ignores the tartlets and hovers by the water pitchers. She carefully pours a glass then dips two fingers into her cup to pull out an ice cube. She regards it for a moment before her hand moves beneath her veil to place it in her mouth. She sucks on it like it is the first summer strawberry, relishing the experience. She takes a chair at the table and regards both their hostess and the red-armored warrior for a somewhat too long period of time. She speaks in curiously accented Common, ”Hello. I am Samara, daughter of the Bedine. From Anauroch.” She continues, unused to speaking about herself, ”I am sahira and earaaf… a, hm, lizard, in your words?”
LOL A couple city-folk, a backwoods druid, and a desert nomad walk into a bar...
Samara, delighted to be selected and signing in. I'll do a little Daggerdale reading and then get you an answer on that.
Seeing her moment, Ritti slides unseen up to the giant. She becomes visible just as she delivers a brutal, lightning-fast, combination of punches and kicks to his freshly wounded leg and kneecap.
BOOM:
Status: HP: 41 / 41 | AC:23 / T:20 / FF:23 | CMD:27/27 (29 Grapple)
Sanity Score: 40 | Threshold: 3 | Edge: 20 Stunning Fist (4):
Effects:
Ritti hears the unearthly howl, feels the thundering steps of their enemies, and hears (more than sees) the pitched battle on the other side of the eldritch mist. Judging by the cries, the fight was going badly for her people. Giants and big wolves… real, REAL bad. The thief is pretty sure she can’t survive a hit from a giant… so she better make sure her first shot is her best shot because she’s likely to only get one. It will take a lot of skill and a bit of luck to make it happen. Commending her foolish soul to Irori, Ritti triggers the shozoku and vanishes from sight. Then she dances across the snow (again thanking her boots for not leaving a trail) through the mist. She moves as far as she can through the impenetrable mist and arrives on the fading edge of the fog, ready to flank the giant and deliver a brutal reprisal. To buttress her courage, she repeats a mantra in her head Bigger they are, harder they fall… Bigger they are, harder they fall…
Aja moves toward the wounded. Disconcertingly, she sniffs at Robert’s burn and prods the wound gently before clucking largely to herself, ”Don’t have time to fix this in the old ways… Gather ‘round all of you.” From the bodice of her dress, she pulls a silver talisman to no god you can identify. ”Amina, friend of life, I am. Salve these wounds, spirits of flesh untainted.” A wave of light rolls off the Oracle, healing those around her, including a limping rat struggling across a sewer grate.
”What?! You don’t wait for game to emerge, you flush’em out! Drop a fireball in the center of that mist and he’ll come out or burn!” Ritti rolls her eyes. Even to her, it sounded like a ham-handed lie… but the idea behind it was right. Drop enough fire bombs and you'd smoke him out.
She pulls her one and only thunderstone from her kit and hurls it into the center of the mist towards the rocking outcropping, hoping to disorient her spell-casting opponent before she goes after him.
Status: HP: 41 / 41 | AC:23 / T:20 / FF:23 | CMD:27/27 (29 Grapple)
Sanity Score: 40 | Threshold: 3 | Edge: 20 Stunning Fist (4):
Effects:
Moon listens for quite a while. ”Are you in such a hurry to die? It seems like this tragedy, the deeds you do now, will add to your legacy… once we get your name back. Stay with us until we speak with this Prince. If we fail to find a way to recover your name… then I will fight you so you can die with honor.”
Since approaching people hadn’t changed many (if any) opinions of her for the better, Ritti switches tactics. She spends the week focusing on her job and helping out where she can. She doesn’t approach anyone, curious to see if anyone seeks her out.
After finishing the cap, Yuto presents it to Ritti with a shy smile. "Ritti San, I made this for you. I hope it helps you stay warm and hidden when you're out scouting." Ritti fingers the woolen cap and stares at it for a moment. ”You made this? For me?” She puts it on her head and pulls it down low, bits of red hair peeking out. She says brightly, ”I’m gonna be like a snow ninja. This is great! Thanks, Yuto. No one has ever made me something to wear before… well, except my Mum, and those were resized hand-me-downs.” Ritti can’t help but wonder if this was just a very kind gesture or if it maybe meant something more. Was this the frozen equivalent of handing her flowers?
Hawk looks through the goods with a discerning (and Detect Magic-y) eye. He examines the potion closely before rendering his unhelpful verdict. ”Yes, well, this appears to be a magic potion of some sort.” He tosses the bottle to Majara for a hopefully useful analysis.
Shaggar sits down at the beautiful piano and tentatively bangs out a few notes.
Shaggar adds, "She was very pleasant, to us. She isn't fond of you. She didn't say 'send Gix to me'... but she had a look. If you remain helpful, I think she will be appeased with the souls of these wolf-people, not you." Not for the first time, the gnoll realises he needed to learn how to lie. Sticking to what was strictly true was, at times, cumbersome.
In the parlour, Hawkren steps into view with an awkward wave. ”Hi! Don’t mind me, just passing through. I’m not in your disagreement. My mother always said I’m a lover, not a fighter.” He slides past Roger with a pat on the pirate’s shoulder as he moves into the main hallway and starts backing away. He pauses, now that he has the leader firmly in sight. ”I quite agree with you about sabre-rattling and boasts. But – if I may – a salient point: your hair looks flammable.” Hawk weaves a spell and hurls a ball of fire that strikes the leader then caroms between the two bandits in front of him before fizzling out.
Status: HP: 22 / 24 | AC: 19 / T:14 / FF:16 | CMD:16
2nd Spells (4): xx 1st Spells (7): xxx Dancing Lights (3): CLW (1): Effects:
The ranger smiles, "Probably not... but I wouldn't try petting her. She tore up a goblin scout at my enclosure. Would you tell Captain Wisslo when you see him?" Moon and Histya continue on to Arnama's house. After a brief introduction to Moon's mentor, she takes the cat into the bath for a thorough cleaning and to look her over for ticks... And so it happens that Meep, coming home a bit later (from what activities we cannot say), is directed to the bathroom where she finds Moon nude in the bathtub with a very large cat that seems to enjoy warm water and finds bubbles curious. Moon holds up a staying hand. "Before you get nervous... this is not a dog or a horse."
So, as they trudge back into town with the cat practically brushing Moon’s thigh, the ranger trips and falls for the third time. Or rather, the cat bats her ankle at the ideal moment so Moon faceplants into the snow. She rolls over and looks at the cat. ”Can we stop that now? Please don’t make me look like a fool in town.” The cat licks a paw and ignores the argument. Moon hopes that means she’ll comply.
Shaggar has doubts about working with the goblins but - properly watched - countering their inevitable betrayal should be possible. And he certainly knows Ari is going to be as vigilant as he is in that regard. Rutilux looks dubious about this alliance, but... well, so far so good. "Better to build a bridge" He remembers the old saying. The gnolls regards the halfling, intrigued by the nonsensical half-phrase. Ears perking forward he prompts, "Go on."
Ritti slides over to stand next to Shalelu, fairly certain they were of a similar opinion about the wikawakks. She says quietly, ”This is going to end badly.”
An Elven Mother/Daughter Conversation: Translated from the Elvish
Sleep comes quickly when you finally arrive back at Arnama's home with Awyn in tow. When you awake, the sun is up. Dale is up already, cooking breakfast. Arnama and Meep, though, are still fast asleep. After eating and getting ready, you head out to run the errands you had planned, buying a cold iron weapon and picking up the nails you asked for from Braggar and talking to you mother about a lot of what has happened in the past month and a half among them. The mayor's head maid greets you when you arrive at Mayor Uptal's house and leads up to your mother's room. She looks as if she hadn't slept well, indeed, you can't recall seeing her in a more disheveled state as she sits up in bed with her loose hair hanging however it pleases over her back and shoulders. A bowl of hot cereal with honey and fruit preserves sit untouched on a tray in her lap as she stares into it. When the door opens, she looks up as the maid announces your arrival. "Please call if you need anything," the middle-aged woman says before closing the door behind you. Moon takes a chair and watches her mother stare at her uneaten breakfast for a moment. “It may be the last thing on your mind, mother, but you should try to eat. It is often a comfort when things have gone wrong. It can ground you.” Ellianna flinches when you speak, but then nods before taking a few bites of the oat pottage. After a minute or so, she puts the spoon down and stares into the bowl again. "How long have I been blind? How long have you been someone strong and capable? How did I miss you turning into the person I wished I could be," she asks. "My siblings are right. I'm nothing more than the Brat of Dallion, so how did you turn out so much better than me? Was it your father?" Moon has had years to consider how she could have turned out so differently from either of her parents. Some parts of the truth would sting her mother too much to say. Ellianna was already beating on herself, Moon didn’t need to join in. “To borrow some Dwarven wisdom… people are molded and forged. Some become decorative or beautiful. Some are shattered when their tempering fails. Others become tools or weapons.” She doesn’t quite laugh, “As you can guess, I believe I am one of the latter… Hardship, mother, is what forged me – and it’s been a long process.” Knowing her mother wouldn’t let that comment stand unexplained, she continues, “My hardships were: never being Elven enough for a’Shaeyel, never being Human enough for Kassen, and definitely never being Minkaian or daughter enough for Temue. From all this came the hardship of isolation, being a misfit toy. There was no place in this world for me, so I was forced to make one. That is how Akechi Moon came to be.” She quickly changes pace. “But don’t think there weren’t good things in my metal as well. As Braggar, our smith, would say, “you can’t forge a good sword out of bad iron.” Our elven family has embraced me despite my pedigree. I have had - and do have - friends, and mentors, and teachers. The values you and Temue taught me have played no small part as well.” Moon falls into silence, letting the other woman weigh it all. She was surprised her mother aspired to be other than she was… that was an idea that was going to take getting used to. Ellianna had always projected she was exactly where she wished to be. Ellianna listens and winces when Moon calls herself a toy. For a long moment, she's quiet. "Moon, I'm so sorry. I failed you. I failed you as your mother. I-- I treated you like a doll. I realized that when I started thinking about how I would dress you up and was more concerned with how you looked and how you presented yourself rather than about how you felt. I know you and Teowyn don't think it's my fault, but it is! If-- If I hadn't wanted to drag you back. If I hadn't wanted to make you a doll again, I wouldn't-- They wouldn't have died. They wouldn't have been killed. Ardyll, Galaeron, Halueth, Lyari, and Simimar wouldn't have been murdered and butchered. I'm sorry Moon. I'm so sorry!" She sobs into her hands, and for several long minutes she weeps. When she exhausts herself and her tears, she lowers her hands again and looks to you. "What did-- What did you mean by Temue not seeing you as enough of a daughter," she asks. Some hooks have to stay in the flesh. “Not to correct you, mother, but I said it isn’t all your fault. You bear some responsibility, as do I. But the majority of the blame falls on the murderers, not their victims. As for your failings… we all fail, a lot. The better question for you, right now, is what are you going to do about it? You have people here, survivors, and they will be looking to you for strength and to lead them. Me being a ‘doll’… that’s not important.” Moon couldn’t disagree with her mother’s assessment of their relationship. But with war coming and a whole bunch of dead and traumatized elves in town, hashing out Ellianna’s mis-steps as a parent was less than useless. If they lived past the next full moon, it might be worth a discussion. She needed to get her mother to focus, to stop beating on herself so she could make decisions that mattered for her people. But it didn’t seem like that was going to happen until some of Ellianna’s personal questions were answered, so reluctantly Moon digs in – maybe giving Ellianna an example of her father’s parenting would make her feel a bit better. “Temue hates Avistan and Avistanis. He hates my profession. He hates that I have mentors and friends here. He hates that I don’t behave as a ‘proper’ Minkaian woman should. In his mind, I think that means subservient and unquestioning, but we never discussed it. Simply put… I wasn’t good enough for him. He told me I dishonored his name and I’m worthless. So, between the two of you, his ‘parenting’ was worse, by leagues.” In speaking that truth, Moon realized she had moved past grief over her father. Now it was a dry-eyed recitation of facts. Ellianna stares in disbelief as she hears what Akechi Temue had told their daughter. For the first time since she woke from being knocked out by one of her own entourage, an emotion besides pain, grief, and guilt shows in her eyes. Incandescent rage burns in the depths her eyes like witches' fire. She clenches her jaw as she moves past the disbelief and throttles her anger as her mind starts to work again. "I suppose that should teach me to be more careful about whom I share a bed with," she mutters. "Can you tell me what's going on here, Moon? I think I need to know that before I can make any decisions about what to do." As Moon well knew, properly channeled, anger was an asset. She didn’t want her mother to spiral in rage… but the rest of the story might come out and it was better if Ellianna heard it from her daughter, not some chatty local. “Temue is gone… he left town. He waited until I was away on a mission then slunk away. He sold the house, all the furniture, and everything of mine that had any value. He stole the gems out of some of my clothes and your gifts to me, I’m sorry to say. Anything else of mine, he just destroyed out of spite. Fortunately, I have some magically gifted friends who were able to repair much of the damage. For the time being I’m staying with Arnama until my own house can be built.” Moon tries to quickly transition to the military situation. “When we go about the village, you’ll notice the locals are building defenses. We are expecting an assault on the town, at the next full moon. Until your capture, we thought we were ‘just’ fighting a hag or witch, a group of ogres, and four tribes of goblins. The two most worrisome tribes are the ones that fight with giant spiders and the others are were-creatures. Somewhat less worrisome is the tribe that are skilled sailors, but that means they can bypass our fences and attack from the heart of town. After what happened to you, we now know the enemy has cast a wider net and an orc marauder and some of his folk have joined their ranks. We suspected the enemy had spies in town. Last night, Unseelie surrounded one of our ally’s home with a dome of vines. When the vines came down, the house and everyone inside was gone. In addition to everything else, the enemy have some fae on their side.” Moon lets that sink in. “We’re hoping to get some Seelie help, if we have time. While the townsfolk fortify defenses, some of us are going into the woods to skirmish with the enemy, disrupt their plans, kill their leaders if possible, and do anything to force this alliance to come apart before the full moon.” She looks at her mother soberly, “That’s where things stand. If you know anything about the Fae that would help us, or have any suggestions that don’t involve me abandoning this town to slaughter… I’m willing to listen.” As you tell your mother about what happened, you can she her physically throttle the urge to shout "he did what," when you tell her about how he'd not only abandoned you, but had also destroyed everything you owned while taking anything of value from the various gifts you'd been given over the years. She listens to the rest, her expression calm, but you can see the rage and bitter resentment on your behalf seething in her eyes. "I guess everyone just leaving is out of the question," she says, sounding more like herself. "No, I may not be all that good of a person, but I don't think I could abandon these people either, even if they weren't the people that helped you after what happened." She sighs as she things about what she knows. "Music and song are beloved by most fey. Some like gifts of cream and honey, others favor beauty and purity, so may ask for a lock of hair from a fair maiden. A few prefer to be entertained, though I think all of them crave entertainment to some extent." She shrugs as she looks you in the eyes. "That is all I can really say with any certainty. Do you have an idea of what kind of fey you may be looking for or facing?" To Ellianna’s first statement, Moon confirms her assumption. “It’s winter and many of these folks have nowhere else to go. They’d rather defend their homes than flee.” Moon manages to both laugh and become sober about the lock of hair. “Grob and Ethufel made a deal with a Fae ‘prince’ to help their mothers. Part of the cost was a lock of my hair, Meep’s, and Talliree’s. I don’t know anything else about him… but I can find out. Speaking of which…. As for the Unseelie, we don’t know anything yet. But Grob and Olmira, our druids, are looking into it. Whatever they find, I’ll share.” Moon hates doing it, particularly given the death toll already, but Kassen had few allies and too many enemies. “Mother, I know a’Shaeyel is far from here and the concerns of men… but the blood of our house was spilled here. Do you think Great Aunt Aerilaya would consider sending help to Kassen?”
Ellianna is shaken both by what you have done and what was implied in Awyn's tale, but at least she isn't falling back into that self-flagellating despondency from earlier. "I can send a letter to ask, but even if she does agree, House Dallion isn't a large house. I don't know if she could gather enough help to send here in time to do any good. She may decide it's better to send someone to get you and I out of here instead of risking still more lives." She puts a hand over yours as she looks you in the eyes. "Moon, if she does do that, I'll follow where you lead. I think you've proven yourself to be far better at this sort of thing than I am, and I trust you know better than I what our chances are." Moon wasn’t surprised by Ellianna’s assessment of what House Dallion could or couldn’t do. She knew it was a faint hope but she had to give it a try. “Please contact her and, at least, let her know what happened here – to our House, you, and Kassen. Also, please ask her to not demand I leave these people. I’ll have to disobey her, and I’d rather not do that.” She considers the rest of her mother’s words and her hand. She squeezes it in appreciation. “Mom, I can’t make that decision for you… you are the head of our family with seven more elven lives hanging in the balance. But I’ll give you my assessment. The ‘heroes of Kassen’”, she says somewhat tongue in cheek, “are going to take the fight to the Fangwood. If we fail to substantially break up this alliance or fail to kill their leaders, and/or we all die in the woods… the enemy will descend on Kassen in force. These are brave people but most are not warriors. I’ll be very surprised if the town can survive that kind of assault… especially with were-creatures in the mix. If we fail to break the enemy or fail to return, then – a week or so before the full moon – you should consider escaping. Adding more bodies to the pile won’t do anyone any good. And if it comes to that, I would beg a favor of you. Despite her objections, take Awyn with you… whether she wants to go or not. She’s had enough horror for one lifetime. I’d like her to have a long life where she can find some sliver of happiness.” "I will see what aid Aunt Laya can send, and I will let her know that you intend to stay and do what you can for these people, but Moon, please, if it looks hopeless, run. What you have told me about adding bodies to the pile applies to you, too," she says as tears well up in her eyes. She sniffles and wipes them away before continuing. "And I will take Awyn along if we have to flee, but please, don't make me have to light a candle for you." She wipes away her tears again and puts on a smile. It's a ghost of the one she normally wears, the one that dazzles everyone in the room, but it is a smile, nonetheless. "Besides, I still want to meet your friends," she laughs. Moon replies, "My plan is to add enemies to the pile and not die. Beside I've got a 'date' with Temue in the spring that I don't want to miss. So, if I can live, I will." She adds, "We'll have to arrange something so you can meet my friends... and a couple people who are more than that." Ellianna’s smile fades as Temue is brought up again, but at least it seems she's mostly back to her old self. She wraps you in a hug and kisses you on the cheek. "Be safe, my little Moonbeam," she whispers in your ear.
Moon blinks and smiles, ”So, I do nice things for your mom and I get kisses? I can work with that.” She looks like she is planning a string of good deeds when Betz ruins the mood. ”That makes it worse! … Grobradon, that means she's going to have to watch you grow into an old man and pass away while she's still young." She rounds on the dwarf. ”Nonsense! Losing people isn’t a nefarious torment, it’s life. I’ll be dead for a century before my mother sees old age. Grob, I’m sad to say, will likely live only half as long as I do, IF we don’t get killed in the next two weeks. That’s life. Should I not…” She quickly amends the lewd thing she was going to say, Damn, that was a good kiss. ”not be with him because he’s likely to die before me? Shouldn’t I enjoy the time we do have instead of dreading the time we won’t? And finally… would you stop busting his b@ll@cks, I’ve got a better use for them!” Moon clamps a hand over her mouth - in as much shock she said it as anyone might have been hearing it. Don’t apologize – own it. She puts her hand down and adds, ”My internal monologue periodically chooses to speak.” Then she point to Erigga, "She's right."
Moon was going to speak but stops as Betz jumps with her question. She shrugs and makes an 'after you' gesture to Grob. It was his story to tell... and Moon was slightly curious to see how long Grob could continue to talk. She had a feeling he was going to set a personal best.
Shaggar moves in fast, putting himself in a position to bring his axe to bear, if needed. He had no wish to kill out-of-hand, and the goblin had intriguing information... But if they thought they could leave without 'spilling the tea' (Shaggar's current favorite colloquialism), he was ready to correct that assumption. He tries, in his charmless way, to back Kiley's play. "Tell us what you know and an arrangement for you leaving safely is possible."
|