Xorn
First Post
“Are you kidding me!? Did you hear the gurgling from his throat? He was still trying to breath, so he wasn’t dead yet!” Percy was absently digging through a pouch at the hobgoblins waste, oblivious to the blood pooling around his booted feet.
“Ach! Jus’ a reflex ya lil’ runt, an’ ya know it!” Omar pointed the head of his warhammer at the deformed remains of the huge goblin’s skull. “Me blow killed him sound, so don’t think yer gonna finagle this aroun’ ta make ye tha victor.” The dwarf pulled out a small knife from his belt, too small to be good for anything but whittling, and creased a small notch in the end of the shaft. “Asides, I already put tha notch in me weapon.”
Percy’s stunned expression clearly illustrated that he felt the fighter had crossed a boundary that he didn’t think was fair. “Oh. Oh I see, so that’s how it is.” The halfling held his hands up in surrender, “Fine. I’ll let you take credit for my skill.”
“Speaking of skill, rogue,” interjected the tiefling, still locked inside the holding cage in the corner of the room, “perhaps you could unlock the door, if you’re not too busy.”
Noticing how Daichot had gotten himself imprisoned in the cage quickly lightened Percy’s mood. With a flick of his wrist, the little halfling padded lightly over to the door of the cage, two thin metal lockpicks and a tension bar held in his left hand, as he examined the lock.
“Really,” Percy boasted, “if this is the best lock you could manage, why bother even locking the door?” With a flourish he drew one of his mundane daggers out of a sheath from beneath his cloak, and in the same motion his lockpicks ceased to exist. Rather than work the lock like a master thief, he jammed the blade into the lock hastily and twisted it slightly before leveraging his weight on the pommel, and a loud combination of snaps and clicks sounded from the mechanism. Grinning satisfactorily to himself, he examined the blade for damage, and content that the weapon had survived the process, he returned it to the folds of his cloak, as Daichot pushed the door open.
“You picked the lock with a dagger?” asked Vrax.
“Well, depends on your definition of picking a lock. Does the lock still have to work afterwards.”
Vrax thought about that question briefly as Percy started across the room, towards the cells where he had seen movement during the fighting. “Let’s assume that answer is: Yes.”
“Then, no, I didn’t pick the lock.”
“Did you kill that filthy bastard!?” Shouted a squeaking, shrill voice from the cells to the west.
Omar spun about from his inspection of one of the goblin corpses, as a ball of arcane energy sprang to life in Vrax’s palm. Daichot raised his axe and looked for the source, but Percy was calmly walking towards the hallway.
“Oh, I think there’s a goblin or something in one of the cells. I saw it during the fighting.”
“Why didn’t you say something!?” demanded Daichot.
“Um… you just asked me. Before that I was busy letting you out of jail, remember.”
“Let’s just kill it and be on with it.” Growled the agitated tiefling.
“Yeah, I’m planning to, just wanted to see why he’s locked up first. Maybe it’ll help us.”
“Don’t kill! Don’t kill! Please!” cried the squeaky voice from the middle cell on the north face of the corridor.
“We don’t have time for this,” grumbled Omar, standing where he could see out the door they entered and down the hallway Percy was walking quickly. “I’ll bash it’s head in so it can’t warn anyone about us.”
“Actually,” hissed Vrax, assessing the opportunity, “perhaps a prisoner could be useful.” The dwarf and tielfling looked at him, considering the possibility since someone who was not Percy was thinking of the notion. “After all, if the little beast has been locked up by his own kind… the enemy of thy enemy, and what not.” The last sound of the sentence clicked hollowly across the chamber as the dragonborn’s taloned feet scraped on the floor.
Daichot stood at the opening of the jail cells and watched the halfling carefully, not particularly content with the idea of interacting with the goblins in any manner that didn’t involve his weapon. Percy was jabbering away with the creature inside the middle cell, and it was responding with even squeakier sounds in it’s own tongue.
“Hmmph. Didja know Percy spoke Goblin?”
Daichot shook his head at the dwarf’s question. “No. Who would have thought?”
“He is a thief.” Offered Vrax.
Daichot shrugged, not really understanding why that was important, and whether or not Vrax detected the uncertainty, he added his own thoughts. “Many thieves in Fallcrest speak Goblin as their form of a trade language. Most people don’t understand the language, which uses a lot of hand-symbols in conjunction with short, two-word guttural sentences. It’s often a safe way to communicate, or even recognize other members of a guild, even in crowded places.”
Daichot and Omar both watched Vrax for a moment, till the wizard felt their unspoken question pressing through his flesh. “So I’ve read, anyway.”
“Why in blazes would anyone know that?”
The recent sound of snapping and scraping metal aroused their attention again as the halfling returned his dagger-lockpick back under the drape of his cloak, and a skinny, half-dressed goblin spilled onto the floor, groveling at the halfling’s feet, which Percy seemed to be enjoying.
“He’s gonna help us find the portal. He knows where it is… kinda.”
Daichot narrowed his gaze. “Kinda?”
The little goblin shifted on his knees to face the others, clasping his hands together as he begged for their belief in him. “Splugg not gone all there. Just most there. Splugg take you!”
“And why would you help us?” asked the warlord, lowering his axe slightly. The little goblins was shuffling on his knees closer to them, while Percy followed closely behind him, dagger ready.
“Splugg not good! Cheat!” he proclaimed.
The three of them stared blankly at the goblin’s statement, as Percy shook his head and sighed.
“Wow. Splugg’s Common really sucks.” Percy explained. “He meant he’s not going to cheat us, because we’re good, like him.”
“He’s sniveling scum,” fumed the warlord, his brow creased with a desire to cleave the evil creature in half.
Percy nodded. “True. He probably is. He also knows who this Kalarel guy is, and can show us the way to him. He’s only been down that low in the keep once, though.”
“Why was he inna jail?”
It was obvious that Splugg was having trouble following the conversation in Common, but Percy nodded to the goblin that he had it under control. “Told me he was a victim of circumstance. He won the brandy rations from the other goblins in a game of dice, they accused him of cheating, and he ended up in jail.” Percy explained. “I can relate, I’ve gambled with plenty of sore losers. So quick to call you a cheat.”
Holding up his hand to stop the rogue, Daichot offered the next question. “Okay. So maybe it’s true. Then he tells us where to go now, then we’ll take him with us.”
“No!” protested Splugg, understanding enough of the sentence to answer. “Splugg show you. Not kill Splugg now!”
Having no mood for negotiation, Daichot closed the distance to the goblin in three long strides, raising his axe above his head. “Yes, I think I will!” he flatly stated.
“Wait!” Splugg curled into a ball, grabbing his arms tightly over his knees, cowering in submission. “Back to start, south through stone door and dooown…” He trailed the last word in a hollow echo from within the ball of spindly limbs his face was hidden beneath.
Daichot hesitated. “Continue.”
“Don’t know rest. Only once go. Can remember!”
“You know that if you betray us, I will kill you slowly?”
Splugg popped his head out of arms and nodded eagerly. “Splugg not break deal!”
Diachot looked back to Omar and Vrax, who both shrugged in unison, not having any real protest to the notion. Splugg certainly didn’t look dangerous enough to be a real threat.
“You walk in front of Percy,” the warlord pointed at the halfling, “if you try to trick us, you die.”
They started heading back towards the entrance quietly, as Vrax made an observation. “I think he’s telling us the truth, more or less. I think he’s taking us towards the portal, in fact.”
“Why are you so sure?” asked Daichot, looking at the scorched stone door that Vrax had engulfed in flames hours before.
Vrax inclined his head towards the goblin, who was standing by Percy at the stone frame speaking softly in goblin to the halfling.
“Because the little runt is terrified.”
***************
“Ach! Jus’ a reflex ya lil’ runt, an’ ya know it!” Omar pointed the head of his warhammer at the deformed remains of the huge goblin’s skull. “Me blow killed him sound, so don’t think yer gonna finagle this aroun’ ta make ye tha victor.” The dwarf pulled out a small knife from his belt, too small to be good for anything but whittling, and creased a small notch in the end of the shaft. “Asides, I already put tha notch in me weapon.”
Percy’s stunned expression clearly illustrated that he felt the fighter had crossed a boundary that he didn’t think was fair. “Oh. Oh I see, so that’s how it is.” The halfling held his hands up in surrender, “Fine. I’ll let you take credit for my skill.”
“Speaking of skill, rogue,” interjected the tiefling, still locked inside the holding cage in the corner of the room, “perhaps you could unlock the door, if you’re not too busy.”
Noticing how Daichot had gotten himself imprisoned in the cage quickly lightened Percy’s mood. With a flick of his wrist, the little halfling padded lightly over to the door of the cage, two thin metal lockpicks and a tension bar held in his left hand, as he examined the lock.
“Really,” Percy boasted, “if this is the best lock you could manage, why bother even locking the door?” With a flourish he drew one of his mundane daggers out of a sheath from beneath his cloak, and in the same motion his lockpicks ceased to exist. Rather than work the lock like a master thief, he jammed the blade into the lock hastily and twisted it slightly before leveraging his weight on the pommel, and a loud combination of snaps and clicks sounded from the mechanism. Grinning satisfactorily to himself, he examined the blade for damage, and content that the weapon had survived the process, he returned it to the folds of his cloak, as Daichot pushed the door open.
“You picked the lock with a dagger?” asked Vrax.
“Well, depends on your definition of picking a lock. Does the lock still have to work afterwards.”
Vrax thought about that question briefly as Percy started across the room, towards the cells where he had seen movement during the fighting. “Let’s assume that answer is: Yes.”
“Then, no, I didn’t pick the lock.”
“Did you kill that filthy bastard!?” Shouted a squeaking, shrill voice from the cells to the west.
Omar spun about from his inspection of one of the goblin corpses, as a ball of arcane energy sprang to life in Vrax’s palm. Daichot raised his axe and looked for the source, but Percy was calmly walking towards the hallway.
“Oh, I think there’s a goblin or something in one of the cells. I saw it during the fighting.”
“Why didn’t you say something!?” demanded Daichot.
“Um… you just asked me. Before that I was busy letting you out of jail, remember.”
“Let’s just kill it and be on with it.” Growled the agitated tiefling.
“Yeah, I’m planning to, just wanted to see why he’s locked up first. Maybe it’ll help us.”
“Don’t kill! Don’t kill! Please!” cried the squeaky voice from the middle cell on the north face of the corridor.
“We don’t have time for this,” grumbled Omar, standing where he could see out the door they entered and down the hallway Percy was walking quickly. “I’ll bash it’s head in so it can’t warn anyone about us.”
“Actually,” hissed Vrax, assessing the opportunity, “perhaps a prisoner could be useful.” The dwarf and tielfling looked at him, considering the possibility since someone who was not Percy was thinking of the notion. “After all, if the little beast has been locked up by his own kind… the enemy of thy enemy, and what not.” The last sound of the sentence clicked hollowly across the chamber as the dragonborn’s taloned feet scraped on the floor.
Daichot stood at the opening of the jail cells and watched the halfling carefully, not particularly content with the idea of interacting with the goblins in any manner that didn’t involve his weapon. Percy was jabbering away with the creature inside the middle cell, and it was responding with even squeakier sounds in it’s own tongue.
“Hmmph. Didja know Percy spoke Goblin?”
Daichot shook his head at the dwarf’s question. “No. Who would have thought?”
“He is a thief.” Offered Vrax.
Daichot shrugged, not really understanding why that was important, and whether or not Vrax detected the uncertainty, he added his own thoughts. “Many thieves in Fallcrest speak Goblin as their form of a trade language. Most people don’t understand the language, which uses a lot of hand-symbols in conjunction with short, two-word guttural sentences. It’s often a safe way to communicate, or even recognize other members of a guild, even in crowded places.”
Daichot and Omar both watched Vrax for a moment, till the wizard felt their unspoken question pressing through his flesh. “So I’ve read, anyway.”
“Why in blazes would anyone know that?”
The recent sound of snapping and scraping metal aroused their attention again as the halfling returned his dagger-lockpick back under the drape of his cloak, and a skinny, half-dressed goblin spilled onto the floor, groveling at the halfling’s feet, which Percy seemed to be enjoying.
“He’s gonna help us find the portal. He knows where it is… kinda.”
Daichot narrowed his gaze. “Kinda?”
The little goblin shifted on his knees to face the others, clasping his hands together as he begged for their belief in him. “Splugg not gone all there. Just most there. Splugg take you!”
“And why would you help us?” asked the warlord, lowering his axe slightly. The little goblins was shuffling on his knees closer to them, while Percy followed closely behind him, dagger ready.
“Splugg not good! Cheat!” he proclaimed.
The three of them stared blankly at the goblin’s statement, as Percy shook his head and sighed.
“Wow. Splugg’s Common really sucks.” Percy explained. “He meant he’s not going to cheat us, because we’re good, like him.”
“He’s sniveling scum,” fumed the warlord, his brow creased with a desire to cleave the evil creature in half.
Percy nodded. “True. He probably is. He also knows who this Kalarel guy is, and can show us the way to him. He’s only been down that low in the keep once, though.”
“Why was he inna jail?”
It was obvious that Splugg was having trouble following the conversation in Common, but Percy nodded to the goblin that he had it under control. “Told me he was a victim of circumstance. He won the brandy rations from the other goblins in a game of dice, they accused him of cheating, and he ended up in jail.” Percy explained. “I can relate, I’ve gambled with plenty of sore losers. So quick to call you a cheat.”
Holding up his hand to stop the rogue, Daichot offered the next question. “Okay. So maybe it’s true. Then he tells us where to go now, then we’ll take him with us.”
“No!” protested Splugg, understanding enough of the sentence to answer. “Splugg show you. Not kill Splugg now!”
Having no mood for negotiation, Daichot closed the distance to the goblin in three long strides, raising his axe above his head. “Yes, I think I will!” he flatly stated.
“Wait!” Splugg curled into a ball, grabbing his arms tightly over his knees, cowering in submission. “Back to start, south through stone door and dooown…” He trailed the last word in a hollow echo from within the ball of spindly limbs his face was hidden beneath.
Daichot hesitated. “Continue.”
“Don’t know rest. Only once go. Can remember!”
“You know that if you betray us, I will kill you slowly?”
Splugg popped his head out of arms and nodded eagerly. “Splugg not break deal!”
Diachot looked back to Omar and Vrax, who both shrugged in unison, not having any real protest to the notion. Splugg certainly didn’t look dangerous enough to be a real threat.
“You walk in front of Percy,” the warlord pointed at the halfling, “if you try to trick us, you die.”
They started heading back towards the entrance quietly, as Vrax made an observation. “I think he’s telling us the truth, more or less. I think he’s taking us towards the portal, in fact.”
“Why are you so sure?” asked Daichot, looking at the scorched stone door that Vrax had engulfed in flames hours before.
Vrax inclined his head towards the goblin, who was standing by Percy at the stone frame speaking softly in goblin to the halfling.
“Because the little runt is terrified.”
***************
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