Vasorn, the World Under Dragonfire
Kalanyr
Explorer
OOC- Assuming I can see the details now if not ignore this post.
Elaugaufein eyes the beholder and then speaks quietly and slowly
"I know this is not how things are traditionally done, but it seems these are not traditional circumstance. This is a healing potion it may be of use to you. "
With that Elaugaufein places the healing potion on the ground in front of the beholder and backs away.
OOC2 - Healing Potion = Potion of Cure Moderate Wounds
Elaugaufein eyes the beholder and then speaks quietly and slowly
"I know this is not how things are traditionally done, but it seems these are not traditional circumstance. This is a healing potion it may be of use to you. "
With that Elaugaufein places the healing potion on the ground in front of the beholder and backs away.
OOC2 - Healing Potion = Potion of Cure Moderate Wounds
*The beholder floats slowly forward, making no sudden moves. Seeing the healing potion on the ground, it wordlessly floats over, and with remarkable dexterity, picks it up with its mouth and swallows it whole. In a few seconds some of the wounds start to close.*
*Dessa starts when Gortag points out the beholder, and holds herself tensely. After a few strained minutes, the beholder finally speaks.*
"Dragonkith," it says shortly in explaination. "A very highly trained one with a squad of young sorcerers and spellblades. They won't bother you anymore. Their bodies are ahead, should you want anything from them." It waits another few heartbeats, considering. "I am called Grathax," it says grudgingly.
*Dessa starts when Gortag points out the beholder, and holds herself tensely. After a few strained minutes, the beholder finally speaks.*
"Dragonkith," it says shortly in explaination. "A very highly trained one with a squad of young sorcerers and spellblades. They won't bother you anymore. Their bodies are ahead, should you want anything from them." It waits another few heartbeats, considering. "I am called Grathax," it says grudgingly.
*Zykovian, it's late morning in the Darkstone mines, and Gardanax has called you to his presence. The amethyst is not as imposing as your own sire, but he still is not to be trifled with. Reclining on a bed of coins made expressly for his lounging, regarding the latest batch of cut jewels, he seems to be a very content dragon. However, you know better. The posture of repose is little more than a facade. He is quite capable of striking at any moment... just as your sire.*
"Zykovian, go to the slave pens today. Examine them closely, and look for signs of weapon use, magic use, or any... insolence. We break through to a lower level soon, and I'd like to forestall any surprises. Question those few that are there now, and then question the others later when they return. Use any methods you like to get the truth from them, but leave them capable. Go," he says, flicking his jewel-studded claws at the half-dragon.
*The slave pens are surrounded by a smooth rock wall, put in place by sorcerery when the mine was opened. The slave huts are also stone, shaped up from the rock floor to provide study housing for privacy... and to lock in the slaves at night.*
*The signs you're looking for are ones you've been trained to seek out. The impact signs on the walls that indicate practice in throwing things. Repeated cuts on side walls, or crude practice dummies (broken down into pieces) covered with scars from improvised weapons. Stone daggers hidden in boots, eating knives honed to killing sharpness, stone strapped to firewood to make crude maces and clubs, all of these are the signs of weapons you're looking for. Scorch marks where none should be indicate signs of sorcerery in the slaves that has to be rooted out before it taints the entire pool, and unusual areas of color also warn of magic use.*
*You walk past the dragonkin guards at the gates, who give you a respectful nod. The slave pens are impeccably clean, as to not offend draconic noses. Even now the elderly gnome women and young children are scrubbing the walls and floors, sweeping up debris, and arranging their things. Another similar group, under guard, is cleaning the quarters of the overseers.*
*The remaining slaves bow, kneeling on the ground, their noses touching rock, as you pass. You examine the walls, search through belongings, and carefully watch and listen the slaves as they converse quietly. As you walk through, you notice nothing untoward, until a faint, rythmic thudding and a shink! reach you ears. Cautiously you edge around the side of a slave hut, and are able to observe without being seen.*
*A spry elder gnome woman, probably only recently demoted to cleaning, is carefully showing one of the older children how to hold a small eating knife. It's obvious from the way he's being show to hold it that it is meant for killing... or defense, rather than for eating. As you watch, the boy comes at the old woman again, and she deflects it on her forearm. You can see she has some thin, old plates of worn armor, the kind discarded in the junk heap, that she's pressed into service as a kind of shield. As the boy leaps back from the deflection, he lunges unexpectedly and manages to tap the old woman against the shoulder.*
*The old woman breaks into a smile and gathers the young boy to her in a hug.*
"That was so good Raffie! You're doing so well. The won't be able to hurt you now, and you'll have a way to defend yourself. I'm so proud of you," she says happily, crushing the boy to her in a hug.
"Zykovian, go to the slave pens today. Examine them closely, and look for signs of weapon use, magic use, or any... insolence. We break through to a lower level soon, and I'd like to forestall any surprises. Question those few that are there now, and then question the others later when they return. Use any methods you like to get the truth from them, but leave them capable. Go," he says, flicking his jewel-studded claws at the half-dragon.
*The slave pens are surrounded by a smooth rock wall, put in place by sorcerery when the mine was opened. The slave huts are also stone, shaped up from the rock floor to provide study housing for privacy... and to lock in the slaves at night.*
*The signs you're looking for are ones you've been trained to seek out. The impact signs on the walls that indicate practice in throwing things. Repeated cuts on side walls, or crude practice dummies (broken down into pieces) covered with scars from improvised weapons. Stone daggers hidden in boots, eating knives honed to killing sharpness, stone strapped to firewood to make crude maces and clubs, all of these are the signs of weapons you're looking for. Scorch marks where none should be indicate signs of sorcerery in the slaves that has to be rooted out before it taints the entire pool, and unusual areas of color also warn of magic use.*
*You walk past the dragonkin guards at the gates, who give you a respectful nod. The slave pens are impeccably clean, as to not offend draconic noses. Even now the elderly gnome women and young children are scrubbing the walls and floors, sweeping up debris, and arranging their things. Another similar group, under guard, is cleaning the quarters of the overseers.*
*The remaining slaves bow, kneeling on the ground, their noses touching rock, as you pass. You examine the walls, search through belongings, and carefully watch and listen the slaves as they converse quietly. As you walk through, you notice nothing untoward, until a faint, rythmic thudding and a shink! reach you ears. Cautiously you edge around the side of a slave hut, and are able to observe without being seen.*
*A spry elder gnome woman, probably only recently demoted to cleaning, is carefully showing one of the older children how to hold a small eating knife. It's obvious from the way he's being show to hold it that it is meant for killing... or defense, rather than for eating. As you watch, the boy comes at the old woman again, and she deflects it on her forearm. You can see she has some thin, old plates of worn armor, the kind discarded in the junk heap, that she's pressed into service as a kind of shield. As the boy leaps back from the deflection, he lunges unexpectedly and manages to tap the old woman against the shoulder.*
*The old woman breaks into a smile and gathers the young boy to her in a hug.*
"That was so good Raffie! You're doing so well. The won't be able to hurt you now, and you'll have a way to defend yourself. I'm so proud of you," she says happily, crushing the boy to her in a hug.
Keia
I aim to misbehave
Zykovian strode through the pens cautiously and alertly. His muscles still rippled form his earlier exercises and he was confident in his abilities and actions . . . or at least that was what appeared on the surface. Zykovian tilted his head to the side as though listening, though also discretely urging a rebellious lock of hair out of his eyes. If someone else had prepared his hair today, Zykovian would have had them beaten . . . but he had prepared the intricate braid himself.
Zykovian mused as he walked through the slave pens, ‘The game becomes tedious . . . Has Gardanax sent me because he respects my abilities, because he wants me out of the way, or because he is testing me? Any of these scenarios could result in my death . . . though it is much less likely here than at home if I perform to the best of my abilities’
Initially, Zykovian was disappointed in what he discovered . . . or didn’t discover. At almost the point in which he was beginning to think that the was either nothing or something had gotten past him, Zykovian heard the tell-tale sounds. His first reaction was to check if he himself was being observed.
*Zykovian stepped quietly and cautiously to the side and peered around to see if his actions were being observed. He hadn’t looked before because there was no need – he hadn’t found anything worth risking a glance.**
He watched the two gnomes with a hint of pride – remembering his happier times, training and learning of the martial skills. He didn’t want to ruin the moment . . . he didn’t want to hurt them or question them . . . he supposed they had a right to live life the way they wished. But to ignore them was to fail in his assigned task, and that failure could mean his life was forfeit – not that Zykovian was opposed to giving his life for a cause – he wouldn’t give it for no real reason.
Confident in his abilities, Zykovian again adopted his stride and approached the two gnomes. Smiling on the way, revealing teeth that were much sharper than one would have thought, Zykovian slid his emotions under his mask and said quietly to the gnomes, “I can’t say that I’m proud of you though, Raffie . . .”
He waited for their reactions – reactions that would go a long in determining how he dealt with the small ones.
**OOC: Spot +11
Zykovian mused as he walked through the slave pens, ‘The game becomes tedious . . . Has Gardanax sent me because he respects my abilities, because he wants me out of the way, or because he is testing me? Any of these scenarios could result in my death . . . though it is much less likely here than at home if I perform to the best of my abilities’
Initially, Zykovian was disappointed in what he discovered . . . or didn’t discover. At almost the point in which he was beginning to think that the was either nothing or something had gotten past him, Zykovian heard the tell-tale sounds. His first reaction was to check if he himself was being observed.
*Zykovian stepped quietly and cautiously to the side and peered around to see if his actions were being observed. He hadn’t looked before because there was no need – he hadn’t found anything worth risking a glance.**
He watched the two gnomes with a hint of pride – remembering his happier times, training and learning of the martial skills. He didn’t want to ruin the moment . . . he didn’t want to hurt them or question them . . . he supposed they had a right to live life the way they wished. But to ignore them was to fail in his assigned task, and that failure could mean his life was forfeit – not that Zykovian was opposed to giving his life for a cause – he wouldn’t give it for no real reason.
Confident in his abilities, Zykovian again adopted his stride and approached the two gnomes. Smiling on the way, revealing teeth that were much sharper than one would have thought, Zykovian slid his emotions under his mask and said quietly to the gnomes, “I can’t say that I’m proud of you though, Raffie . . .”
He waited for their reactions – reactions that would go a long in determining how he dealt with the small ones.
**OOC: Spot +11
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Velenne
Explorer
Durlp watches the exchange from his hiding place, hoping the creature of many eyes pays him no heed. Mmm...bodies, it says! Loot! The little creature chews its lips and twitches as if driven by some force. Yet he stays, driven above all else by the need for self-preservation, and watches the Eye Tyrant for the opportune moment to either strike, run away, or move on to where the loot awaits...
Paxus Asclepius
First Post
Isida Kep'Tukari said:
*Seeing no one else stepping forward, Grim does so, feeling at least as uncomfortable as the beholder must, and sheathing his blade.* Never thought I'd have something in common with an eye tyrant.
"We are grateful. Were they tracking you, or simply on patrol?"
*The beholder looks at Grim for a moment (and the 11-eyed stare of a beholder is not something anyone wants to endure for long), then finally consents to speak.*
"I was looking for something to eat. These tunnels were supposed to be free of those scum... They've expanded their patrols. But they're dead now. I ate the two littlest ones, but there should be plenty left for you. Where are you off to?" it asks gruffly.
~~~~~~~~~~~
*Zykovian, the gnome woman gasps and grabs her child. Raffie promptly drops the knife and both of their faces become masks of fear.*
"Please m'lord! Don't kill us, I'm sorry! I was just afraid that Raffie wouldn't be able to defend himself if there's a raid. I know it's against the law m'lord, but I was so afraid for him!" the gnome woman says. Raids by rebels are not exactly common, but there are enough of them to be a worry. Slaves have died in them before, particularly those ordered to act as a rear guard for the half-dragon and dragonkin overseers. Those that defend their draconic masters are often treated no different than dragons by the rebels.
*Raffie is almost old enough, by your reckoning, to enter the workforce as an apprentice miner, which is probably the reason for the illegal lesson.*
"I was looking for something to eat. These tunnels were supposed to be free of those scum... They've expanded their patrols. But they're dead now. I ate the two littlest ones, but there should be plenty left for you. Where are you off to?" it asks gruffly.
~~~~~~~~~~~
*Zykovian, the gnome woman gasps and grabs her child. Raffie promptly drops the knife and both of their faces become masks of fear.*
"Please m'lord! Don't kill us, I'm sorry! I was just afraid that Raffie wouldn't be able to defend himself if there's a raid. I know it's against the law m'lord, but I was so afraid for him!" the gnome woman says. Raids by rebels are not exactly common, but there are enough of them to be a worry. Slaves have died in them before, particularly those ordered to act as a rear guard for the half-dragon and dragonkin overseers. Those that defend their draconic masters are often treated no different than dragons by the rebels.
*Raffie is almost old enough, by your reckoning, to enter the workforce as an apprentice miner, which is probably the reason for the illegal lesson.*
